[illustration: _an inner gate._] the chronicles of newgate by arthur griffiths major late rd regiment; one of h. m. inspectors of prisons author of "the memorials of millbank," etc., etc. [illustration] _in two volumes.--vol. ii._ london: chapman and hall (limited) [_all rights reserved._] bungay: clay and taylor, printers. contents of vol ii. chapter i. page crimes and criminals chapter ii. newgate down to chapter iii. philanthropy in newgate chapter iv. the beginnings of prison reform chapter v. the first report of the inspectors of prisons chapter vi. executions (_continued_) chapter vii. newgate notorieties chapter viii. newgate notorieties (_continued_) chapter ix. later records chapter x. newgate notorieties chapter xi. newgate reformed list of illustrations. vol. ii. an inner gate _frontispiece_ charles price, _alias_ old patch justice hall in the old bailey _to face_ p. whipping at the old bailey " rev. mr. whitfield preaching on kennington common _to face_ p. entrance to mrs. fry's ward " bellingham preparing for an execution _to face_ p. exhibition of body of williams " conspirators' stable in cato street " fauntleroy in the dock courvoisier execution shed ( ) _to face_ p. interior of chapel ( ) " chronicles of newgate. chapter i. crimes and criminals. state of crime on opening new gaol--newgate full--executions very numerous--ruthless penal code--forgery punished with death--its frequency--how fostered--some notable forgers--the first forgery of bank of england notes--gibson--bolland--the two perreaus--dr. dodd--charles price, _alias_ old patch--clipping still largely practised--john clarke hanged for it--also william guest, a clerk in bank of england--his elaborate apparatus for filing guineas--coining--forty or fifty private mints for making counterfeits--always at work--town and country orders regularly executed-- prosecutions for coining in seven years--offences against life and property--streets unsafe--high roads infested by robbers--no regular police--inefficiency of watchmen--assaults on the weaker sex--renwick williams "the monster"--daring robberies at lévees--the duke of beaufort robbed by gentleman harry--george barrington, the gentleman thief, frequents ranelagh, the palace, the opera house--his depredations--he aids authorities to suppress a mutiny, turns police officer and becomes chief constable of new south wales before he dies--gentlemen of the road ubiquitous and always busy--highwaymen put down by the horse patrol--horse patrol described--executions still numerous, but transportation now adopted as a secondary punishment for lesser offenders--some of these described--"long firm" swindlers--alexander day, _alias_ marmaduke davenport, esq.--female sharpers--elizabeth grieve pretends to sell places under the crown--so does david james dignam--traffic in places flourished in this corrupt age--mrs. clarke and the duke of york--other forms of swindling--jacques defrauds warden of the fleet--juvenile depravity--increased by committing the young to newgate--various youthful crimes--a girl for sale--prize-fighting--writers in gaol--the north briton--wilkes--the press oppressed--mr. walter of the 'times' in newgate--sir francis burdett and mr. john gale jones--william cobbett in newgate--also the marquis of sligo. in the years immediately following the erection of the new gaol, crime was once more greatly in the ascendant. after the peace which gave independence to the united states, the country was overrun with discharged soldiers and sailors. they were mostly in dire poverty, and took to depredation almost as a matter of course. the calendars were particularly heavy. at the september sessions of the old bailey in , fifty-eight were convicted for capital offences. the deputy recorder, in passing sentence, remarked that it gave him inexpressible pain, and that it was truly alarming "to behold a bar so crowded with persons whose wickedness and imprudence had induced them to commit such enormous crimes as the laws of their country justly and necessarily punish with death. those laws," he added, being thoroughly imbued with the ferocious spirit of the times, "while they are founded in equity, and executed with lenity, (!) impartiality, and rectitude, are written in blood." the exemplary punishment of so many failed to have a very deterrent effect. in the december sessions following the number of trials was greater, although there were not so many capital convictions. twenty-four received sentence of death, and ninety were convicted of single felonies. "two such sessions," says a contemporary writer, "were never known before in london." the same depravity, dealt with in the same ruthless manner, prevailed throughout england. in the lent assizes of the judges on every circuit dealt out death with a liberal hand. at kingston there were twenty-one capital sentences, and nine executions. at lincoln twelve of the former, and at gloucester sixteen, with, in both cases, nine executions; seven executions at warwick, six at exeter, winchester, and salisbury, five at shrewsbury, and so on. the total number of capital sentences in england alone was two hundred and forty-two, of whom one hundred and three suffered, and only at stafford, oakham, and ludlow was there a "maiden assize," or no capital conviction. at this date there were forty-nine persons lying in newgate under sentence of death, one hundred and eighty under sentence of transportation, and prisoners of other categories, making the total prison population up to nearly six hundred souls. speaking of those times, mr. townshend, a veteran bow street runner, in his evidence before a parliamentary committee in ,[ ] declared that in the years - as many as twelve, sixteen, or twenty were hanged at one execution; twice he saw forty hanged at one time. in there were twenty at two consecutive executions. he had known, he said, as many as two hundred and twenty tried at one sessions. he had himself obtained convictions of from thirteen to twenty-five for returning from transportation. upon the same authority we are told that in the secretary of state advised the king to punish with all severity. the enormity of the offences was so great, says mr. townshend, and "plunder had got to such an alarming pitch," that a letter was circulated among judges and recorders then sitting, to the effect that his majesty would dispense with the recorders' reports, and that the worst criminals should be picked out and at once ordered for execution. the penal code was at this period still ruthlessly severe. there were some two hundred capital felonies upon the statute book. almost any member of parliament eager to do his share in legislation could "create a capital felony." a story is told of edmund burke, that he was leaving his house one day in a hurry, when a messenger called him back on a matter which would not detain him a minute: "only a felony without benefit of clergy." burke also told sir james mackintosh, that although scarcely entitled to ask a favour of the ministry, he thought he had influence enough to create a capital felony.[ ] it is true that of the two hundred, not more than five-and-twenty sorts of felonies actually entailed execution. it is true too that some of the most outrageous and ridiculous reasons for its infliction had disappeared. it was no longer death to take a falcon's egg from the nest, nor was it a hanging matter to be thrice guilty of exporting live sheep. but a man's life was still appraised at five shillings. stealing from the person, or in a dwelling, or in a shop, or on a navigable river, to that amount, was punished with death. "i think it not right nor justice," wrote sir thomas more in , "that the loss of money should cause the loss of man's life; for mine opinion is that all the goods in the world are not able to countervail man's life." three hundred years was still to pass before the strenuous efforts of sir samuel romilly bore fruit in the amelioration of the penal code. in he carried a bill through the house of commons, which was, however, rejected by the lords, to abolish capital punishment for stealing to the amount of five shillings in a shop. his most bitter opponents were the great lawyers of the times, lords ellenborough, eldon, and others, lords chancellors and lords chief justice, who opposed dangerous innovations, and viewed with dismay any attempt "to alter laws which a century had proved to be necessary." lord eldon on this occasion said that he was firmly convinced of the wisdom of the principles and practice of our criminal code. romilly did not live to see the triumph of his philanthropic endeavours. he failed to procure the repeal of the cruel laws against which he raised his voice, but he stopped the hateful legislation which multiplied capital felonies year by year, and his illustrious example found many imitators. within a few years milder and more humane ideas very generally prevailed. in the number of offences to which the extreme penalty could be applied was only seven, and in that year only eight persons were executed, all of them for murders of an atrocious character.[ ] forgery, at the period of which i am now treating, was an offence especially repugnant to the law. no one guilty of it could hope to escape the gallows. the punishment was so certain, that as milder principles gained ground, many benevolent persons gladly withdrew from prosecution where they could. instances were known in which bankers and other opulent people compromised with the delinquent rather than be responsible for taking away a fellow-creature's life.[ ] the prosecutor would sometimes pretend his pockets had been picked of the forged instrument, or he destroyed it, or refused to produce it. an important witness sometimes kept out of the way. persons have gone so far as to meet forged bills of exchange, and to a large amount. in one case it was pretty certain they would not have advanced the money had the punishment been short of death, because the culprit had already behaved disgracefully, and they had no desire he should escape a lesser retribution. prosecutors have forfeited their recognizances sooner than appear, and have even, when duly sworn, withheld a portion of their testimony. but at the time of which i am now writing the law generally took its course. in the years between and there had been two hundred and seven executions for forgery; more than for either murder, burglary, or robbery from the person. it may be remarked here that the bank of england was by far the most bitter and implacable as regards prosecutions for forgery. of the above-mentioned two hundred and seven executions for this crime, no less than seventy-two were the victims of proceedings instituted by the bank. forgeries upon this great monetary corporation had been much more frequent since the stoppage of specie payments, which had been decreed by parliament in to save the bank from collapse. alarms of invasion had produced such a run upon it, that on one particular day little more than a million in cash or bullion remained in the cellars, which had already been drained of specie for foreign subsidies and subventions. following the cessation of cash payments to redeem its paper in circulation, the bank had commenced the issue of notes to the value of less than five pounds, and it was soon found that these, especially the one-pound notes, were repeatedly forged. in the eight years preceding but few prosecutions had been instituted by the bank; but in the eight immediately following there were one hundred and forty-six convictions for the offence. at last, about , a strong and general feeling of dissatisfaction grew rife against these prosecutions. the crime had continued steadily to increase, in spite of the awful penalties conviction entailed. it was proved, moreover, that note forgery was easily accomplished. detection, too, was most difficult. the public were unable to distinguish between the good and bad notes. bank officials were themselves often deceived, and cases were known where the clerks had refused payment of the genuine article. juries began to decline to convict on the evidence of inspectors and clerks, unless substantiated by the revelation of the private mark, a highly inconvenient practice, which the bank itself naturally discountenanced. efforts were made to improve the quality of the note, so as to defy imitation; but this could not well be done at the price, and, as the only effective remedy, specie payments were resumed, and the one-pound note withdrawn from circulation.[ ] but execution for forgery continued to be the law for many more years. fauntleroy suffered for it in ;[ ] joseph hunton, the quaker linen-draper, in ; and maynard, the last, in the following year. i am, however, anticipating somewhat, and must retrace my steps, and indicate briefly one or two of the early forgers who passed through newgate and suffered for the crime. the first case i find recorded is that of richard vaughan, a linen-draper of stafford, who was committed to newgate in march, , for counterfeiting bank of england notes. he employed several artists to engrave the notes in various parts, one of whom informed against him. the value of the note he himself added. twenty which he had thus filled up he had deposited in the hands of a young lady to whom he was paying his addresses, as a guarantee of his wealth. vaughan no doubt suffered, although i see no record of the fact in the newgate calendar. mr. gibson's was a curious case. he was a prisoner in newgate for eighteen months between conviction and execution, the jury having found a special verdict, subject to the determination of the twelve judges. as gibson remained so long in gaol, it was the general opinion that no further notice would be taken of the case. the prisoner himself must have been buoyed up with this hope, as he petitioned repeatedly for judgment. he had been sentenced in sept. , and in , at hilary term, the judges decided that his crime came within the meaning of the law. gibson had been a solicitor's clerk, who gave so much satisfaction that he was taken into partnership. the firm was doing a large business, and among other large affairs was intrusted with a chancery case, respecting an estate for which an _ad interim_ receiver had been appointed. gibson's way of life was immoral and extravagant. he had urgent need of funds, and in an evil hour he forged the signature of the accountant-general to the court of chancery, and so obtained possession of some of the rents of the above-mentioned estate. the fraud was presently discovered; gibson was arrested, and eventually, as already stated, condemned. "after sentence," says the calendar, "his behaviour was in every way becoming his awful situation; ... he appeared rational, serious, and devout. his behaviour was so pious, so resigned, and in all respects so admirably adapted to his unhappy situation, that the tears of the commiserating multitude accompanied his last ejaculation. he was carried to execution in a mourning coach," an especial honour reserved for malefactors of aristocratic antecedents and gentle birth. james bolland, who was executed in , deserved and certainly obtained less sympathy. bolland long filled the post of a sheriff's officer, and as such became the lessee of a spunging-house, where he practised boundless extortion. he was a man of profligate life, whose means never equalled his extravagant self-indulgence, and he was put to all manner of shifts to get money. more than once he arrested debtors, was paid all claims in full, and appropriated the money to his own use, yet escaped due retribution for his fraud. he employed bullies, spies, and indigent attorneys to second his efforts, some of whom were arrested and convicted of other crimes with the clothes bolland provided them still on their backs. his character was so infamous, that when he purchased the situation of upper city marshal for £ , the court of aldermen would not approve of the appointment. he tried also to succeed to a vacancy as sergeant-at-mace, and met with the same objection. the deposit-money paid over in both these affairs was attached by his sureties, and he was driven to great necessities for funds. when called upon to redeem a note of hand he had given, he pleaded that he was short of cash, and offered another man's bill, which, however, was refused unless endorsed. bolland then proceeded to endorse it with his own name, but it was declared unnegotiable, owing to the villanous character it bore. whereupon bolland erased all the letters after the capital, and substituted the letters "anks," the name of banks being that of a respectable victualler of rathbone place, in a large way of trade. when the bill became due, banks repudiated his signature, and bolland, who sought too late to meet it and hush up the affair, was arrested for the forgery. he was tried and executed in due course. the case of the twin brothers perreau in was long the talk of the town. it evoked much public sympathy, as they were deemed to be the dupes of a certain mrs. rudd, who lived with daniel perreau, and passed as his wife. daniel was a man of reputed good means, with a house in harley street, which he kept up well. his brother, robert perreau, was a surgeon enjoying a large practice, and residing in golden square. the forged deed was a bond for £ , purporting to be signed by william adair, a well-known agent. daniel perreau handed this to robert drummond perreau, who carried it to the bank, where its validity was questioned, and the brothers, with mrs. rudd, were arrested on suspicion of forgery. daniel on his trial solemnly declared that he had received the instrument from mrs. rudd; robert's defence was that he had no notion the document was forged. both were, however, convicted of knowingly uttering the counterfeit bond. it was, however, found impossible to prove mrs. rudd's complicity in the transaction, and she was acquitted. the general feeling was, however, so strong that she was the guilty person, that the unfortunate perreaus became a centre of interest. strenuous efforts were made to obtain a reprieve for them. robert perreau's wife went in deep mourning, accompanied by her three children, to sue for pardon on their knees from the queen. seventy-two leading bankers and merchants signed a petition in his favour, which was presented to the king two days before the execution. but all to no purpose. both brothers suffered the extreme penalty at tyburn on the th january, , before an enormous multitude estimated at , . they asserted their innocence to the last. in the following year a clergyman, who had at one time achieved some eminence, also fell a victim to the vindictive laws regarding forgery. dr. dodd was the son of a clergyman. he had been a wrangler at cambridge, and was early known as a litterateur of some repute. while still on his promotion, and leading a gay life in london, he made a foolish marriage, and united himself to the daughter of one of sir john dolben's servants, a young lady largely endowed with personal attractions, but certainly deficient in birth and fortune. this sobered him, and he took orders in the year that his 'beauties of shakespeare' was published. he became a zealous curate at west ham; thence he went to st. james', garlick hill, and took an active part in london church and charitable work. he was one of the promoters of the magdalen hospital, also of the humane society, and in , twelve years after ordination, he was appointed chaplain in ordinary to the king. about the same time he was presented to a prebend's stall in brecon cathedral, and was recommended to lord chesterfield as tutor to his son. he hoped to succeed to the rectory of west ham, but being disappointed he now came to london, and launched out into extravagance. he had a town house, and a country house at ealing, and he exchanged his chariot for a coach. having won a prize of £ in a lottery, he became interested in two proprietary chapels, but could not make them pay. but just then he was presented with a living, that of hockliffe, in bedfordshire, which he held with the vicarage of chalgrove, and his means were still ample. they were not sufficient, however, for his expenditure, and in an evil moment he attempted to obtain the valuable cure of st. george's, hanover square, by back-stair influence. the living was in the gift of the crown, and dodd was so ill advised as to write to a great lady at court, offering her £ if he were presented. the letter was forthwith passed on to the lord chancellor, and the king, george iii., hearing what had happened, ordered dr. dodd's name to be struck off the list of his chaplains. the story was made public, and dodd was satirized in the press and on the stage. dodd was now greatly encumbered by debts, from which the presentation to a third living, that of winge, in buckinghamshire, could not relieve him. he was in such straits that, according to his biographer, "he descended so low as to become the editor of a newspaper," and he tried to obtain relief in bankruptcy, but failed. at length, so sorely pressed was he by creditors that he resolved to do a dishonest deed. he forged the name of his old pupil, now lord chesterfield, who had since become his patron, to a bond for £ . he applied to certain usurers, in the name of a young nobleman who was seeking an advance. the business was refused by many, because dr. dodd declared that they could not be present at the execution of the bond. a mr. robertson proved more obliging, and to him dr. dodd, in due course, handed a bond for £ executed by lord chesterfield, and witnessed by himself. a second witness being necessary, mr. robertson signed his name beneath dr. dodd's. the bond was no sooner presented for payment, and referred to lord chesterfield, than it was repudiated. robertson was forthwith arrested, and soon afterwards dr. dodd. the latter at once, in the hope of saving himself, returned £ ; he gave a cheque upon his bankers for £ , a bill of sale on his furniture worth £ more, and the whole sum was made up by another hundred from the brokers. nevertheless dr. dodd was taken before the lord mayor and charged with the forgery. lord chesterfield would not stir a finger to help his old tutor, although the poor wretch had made full restitution. dr. dodd, when arraigned, declared that he had no intention to defraud, that he had only executed the bond as a temporary resource to meet some pressing claims. the jury after consulting only five minutes found him guilty, and he was regularly sentenced to death. still greater exertions were made to obtain a reprieve for dr. dodd than in the case of the perreaus. the newspapers were filled with letters pleading for him. all classes of people strove to help him; the parish officers went in mourning from house to house, asking subscriptions to get up a petition to the king, and this petition, when eventually drafted, filled twenty-three skins of parchment. petitions from dodd and his wife, both drawn up by dr. johnson, were laid before the king and queen. even the lord mayor and common council went in a body to st. james's palace to beg mercy from the king. as, however, clemency had been denied to the perreaus, it was deemed unadvisable to extend it to dr. dodd.[ ] the concourse at his execution, which took place at tyburn, was immense. it has been stated erroneously that dr. dodd preached his own funeral sermon. he only delivered an address to his fellow-prisoners in the prison chapel by the permission of mr. villette, the ordinary. the text he chose was psalm li. , "i acknowledge my faults; and my sin is ever before me." it was delivered some three weeks before the doctor's execution, and subsequently printed. it is a curious fact that among other published works of dr. dodd, is a sermon on the injustice of capital punishments. he was, however, himself the chief witness against a highwayman, who was hanged for stopping him. among other spectators at the execution of dr. dodd was the rev. james hackman, who afterwards murdered miss reay.[ ] it is said that a scheme was devised to procure dodd's escape from newgate. he was treated with much consideration by mr. akerman, allowed to have books, papers, and a reading-desk. food and other necessaries were brought him from outside by a female servant daily. this woman was found to bear a striking resemblance to the doctor, which was the more marked when she was dressed up in a wig and gown. she was asked if she would co-operate in a scheme for taking the doctor's place in gaol, and consented. it was arranged that on a certain day, dr. dodd's irons having been previously filed, he was to change clothes with the woman. she was to seat herself at the reading-desk while dr. dodd, carrying a bundle under his arm, coolly walked out of the prison. the plan would probably have succeeded, but dodd would not be a party to it. he was so buoyed up with the hope of reprieve that he would not risk the misconstruction which would have been placed upon the attempt to escape had it failed. in his own profession dr. dodd was not very highly esteemed. dr. newton, bishop of bristol, is said to have observed that dodd deserved pity, because he was hanged for the least crime he had committed. one of the most notorious depredators in this line, whose operations long eluded detection, was charles price, commonly called old patch. he forged bank-notes wholesale. his plans were laid with the utmost astuteness, and he took extraordinary precautions to avoid discovery. he did everything for himself; made his own paper, with the proper water-mark, engraved his own plates, and manufactured his own ink. his method of negotiating the forged notes was most artful. he had three homes; at one he was price, properly married, at a second he lived under [illustration: charles price, _alias_ old patch.] another name with a woman who helped him in his schemes, at a third he did the actual business of passing his notes. this business was always effected in disguise; none of his agents or instruments saw him except in disguise, and when his work was over he put it off to return home. one favourite personation of his was that of an infirm old man, wearing a long black camlet cloak, with a broad cape fastened up close to his chin. with this he wore a big, broad-brimmed slouch hat, and often green spectacles or a green shade. sometimes his mouth was covered up with red flannel, or his corpulent legs and gouty feet were swathed in flannel. his natural appearance as price was a compact middle-aged man, inclined to stoutness, erect, active, and not bad-looking, with a beaky nose, keen grey eyes, and a nutcracker chin. his schemes were very ingenious. on one occasion he pretended, in one disguise, to expose a swindler (himself in another disguise), whom a respectable city merchant inveigled into his house in order to give him up to the police. the swindler proposed to buy himself off for £ ; the offer was accepted, the money paid by a thousand-pound note, for which the swindler got change. the note, of course, was forged. he victimized numbers of tradesmen. disguised as an old man, he passed six forged fifty-pound notes on a grocer, and then as price backed up his victim in an action brought against the bank which refused payment of the counterfeits. but his cleverest coup was that organized against the lottery offices. having in one of his disguises engaged a boy to serve him, he sent the lad, dressed in livery, round the town to buy lottery tickets, paying for them in large (forged) notes, for which change was always required. by these means hundreds and hundreds of pounds were obtained upon the counterfeits. the boy was presently arrested, and a clever plot was laid to nab the old man his master, but price by his vigilance outwitted the police. another dodge was to hire boys to take forged notes to the bank, receive the tickets from the teller, and carry them back to him (price). he forthwith altered the figures, passed them on by the same messenger to the bank cashier, and obtained payment for the larger amount. these wholesale forgeries produced something like consternation at the bank. it was supposed that they were executed by a large gang, well organized and with numerous ramifications, although price, as i have said, really worked single-handed. the notes poured in day after day, and still no clue was obtained as to the culprits. the bow street officials were hopelessly at fault. "old patch" was advertised for, described in his various garbs. it was now discovered that he had a female accomplice. this was a mrs. poultney, alias hickeringill, his wife's aunt, a tall, rather genteel woman of thirty, with a downcast look, thin face and person, light hair, and pitted with the small-pox. fate at last unexpectedly overtook old patch. one of many endorsements upon a forged note was traced to a pawnbroker, who remembered to have had the note from one powel. the runners suspected that powel was price, and that he was a member of old patch's gang. a watch was set at the pawnbroker's, and the next time powel called he was arrested, identified as price, searched, and found to have upon his person a large number of notes, with a quantity of white tissue-paper, which he declared he had bought to make into air-balloons for his children. price was committed to prison, and a close inquiry made into his antecedents. he was found to be the man who had decoyed foote the actor into a partnership in a brewery, and decamped with the profits, leaving foote to pay liabilities to the extent of £ . then, he had started an illicit still, and had been arrested and sent to newgate till he had paid a fine of £ . he was released through the intercession of lord littleton and foote, and forgiven the fine. he next set up as a fraudulent lottery office keeper, and bolted with a big prize. after this he elaborated his system of forgery, which ended in the way i have said. price was alert and cunning to the last. one of his first acts was to pass out a clandestine letter to mrs. poultney, briefly telling her to "destroy everything." this she effected by burning the whole of his disguises in the kitchen fire, on the pretence that the clothes were infected by the plague. the engraving press was disposed of; the copper plates heated red hot, then smashed into pieces and thrown with the water-mark wires on to a neighbouring dust-heap, where they were subsequently discovered. price attempted to deny his identity, but to no purpose, and when he saw the grip of the law tightening upon him, he committed suicide to avoid the extreme penalty. he was found hanging behind the door of his cell, suspended from two hat-screws, strengthened by gimlets. price's depredations, it was said, amounted to £ , ; but how he disposed of his ill-gotten gains, seeing that he always lived obscurely, and neither gambled nor drank, remained an inscrutable secret to the last. two deliberate cases of forging bank of england notes about this time may be mentioned, although neither of the criminals passed through newgate. one was james elliot, who suffered at maidstone in , the other joshua crompton, who was executed at gangley green, near guildford, in . the circulation of counterfeit paper was not the only kind of monetary fraud in vogue. the coinage of the realm still suffered. clipping could not be quite put down by act of parliament. the punishment was still capital, and generally inflicted without hope of reprieve. it was a crime affected more particularly by workers in the precious metals. thus john clarke, in , was a london watch-case maker of good repute, who was in the habit of working alone in a private closet. his apprentice, jealously suspecting him to be engaged in some secret branch of his trade, bored a hole through the wainscot, and caught his master filing guineas. the apprentice immediately informed; clarke was arrested, convicted, and soon afterwards hanged. persons in a higher station, however, succumbed to special temptations. william guest was the son of a clergyman living at worcester, who had sufficient interest to get him a clerkship in the bank of england. the constant handling of piles of gold was too much for guest's integrity, and he presently resolved to turn his opportunities to account. taking a house in broad street buildings, he devoted the upper part of it to his nefarious trade. he abstracted guineas from his drawer in the bank, carried them home, filed them, then remilled them in a machine he had designed for the purpose, and returned them--now light weight--to the bank. the filings he converted into ingots and disposed of to the trade. no suspicion of his malpractices transpiring, he was in due course advanced to the post of teller. but a fellow-teller having observed him one day picking out new guineas from a bag, watched him, and found that he did this constantly. on another occasion he was seen to pay away guineas some of which, on examination, proved to have been recently filed. they were weighed, and found short weight. to test mr. guest still further, his money-bags were opened one night after hours, and the contents counted and examined. the number was short, and several guineas found which appeared to have been recently filed, and which on weighing proved to be light. a descent was forthwith made upon guest's house, and in the upper rooms the whole apparatus for filing was laid bare. in a nest of drawers were found vice, files, the milling machine, two bags of gold filings, and a hundred guineas. a flap in front of the nest of drawers could be let down, and inside was a skin fastened to the back of the flap, with a hole in it to button on to the waistcoat, and equip the workman after the method of jewellers. more evidence was soon forthcoming against guest. his fellow-teller had seen him in possession of a substantial bar of gold; jewellers and others swore to having bought ingots from him, and an assayer at guest's trial deposed to their being of the same standard as the guinea coinage. his guilt was clearly made out to the jury, and he was sentenced to death. a petition signed by a number of influential persons was forwarded to the crown, praying for mercy, but it was decided that the law ought to take its course. as his crime amounted to high treason, he went to tyburn on a sledge, but he suffered no other penalty than hanging. the flagitious trade of coining was in a most flourishing condition during the last decades of the eighteenth and the early part of the nineteenth centuries. the condition of the national coinage was at this time far from creditable to the mint. a great part of both the silver and copper money in circulation was much worn and defaced. imitation thus became much easier than with coins comparatively fresh and new. hence the nefarious practice multiplied exceedingly. there were as many as forty or fifty private mints constantly at work, either in london or in the principal country towns. the process was rapid, not too laborious, and extremely profitable. a couple of hands could turn out in a week base silver coins worth nominally two or three hundred pounds. the wages of a good workman were as much as a couple of guineas a day. much capital was invested by large dealers in the trade, who must have made enormous sums. one admitted that his transactions in seven years amounted to the production of £ , in counterfeit half-crowns and other silver coins. so systematic was the traffic, that orders for town and country were regularly executed by the various manufacturers. boxes and parcels of base coin were despatched every morning by coach and waggon to all parts of the kingdom, like any other goods. the trade extended to foreign countries.[ ] the law, until it was rectified by the geo. iii. cap. , did not punish the counterfeiting of foreign money, and french louis-d'or, spanish dollars, german florins, and turkish sequins were shipped abroad in great quantities. our indian possessions even did not escape, and a manufactory of spurious gold or silver pagodas was at one time most active in london, whence they were exported to the east. the number of persons employed in london as capitalists and agents for distribution alone amounted to one hundred and twenty at one time; and besides there was a strong force of skilful handicraftsmen, backed up by a whole army of "utterers" or "smashers," constantly busy in passing the base money into the currency. the latter comprised hawkers, peddlers, market-women, hackney-coach drivers, all of whom attended the markets held by the dealers in the manufactured article, and bought wholesale to distribute retail by various devices, more particularly in giving change. they obtained the goods at an advantage of about one hundred per cent. when the base money lost its veneer, the dealers were ready to repurchase it in gross, and after a repetition of the treatment, issue it afresh at the old rates. gold coins were not so much counterfeited as silver and copper, but there were bad guineas in circulation. the most dexterous method of coining them was by mixing a certain amount of alloy with the pure metal. they were the proper weight, and had some semblance of the true ring, but their intrinsic value was not more than thirteen or fourteen shillings, perhaps only eight or nine. the fabrication was, however, limited by the expense and the nicety required in the process. to counterfeit silver was a simpler operation. of base silver money there were five kinds; viz. flats, plated goods, plain goods, castings, and fig things. the _flats_ were cut out of prepared flattened plates composed of silver and blanched copper. when cut out the coins were turned in a lathe, stamped in a press with the proper die, and subjected to rubbing with various materials, including aquafortis to bring the silver to the surface, sand-paper, cork, cream of tartar, and last of all blacking to give the appearance of age. _plated goods_ were prepared from copper; the coins cut the proper size and plated, the stamping being done afterwards. as these coins were most like silver, they generally evaded detection. _plain goods_ consisted of copper blanks the size of a shilling, turned out from a lathe, then given the colour and lustre of metal buttons, after which they were rubbed with cream of tartar and blacking. _castings_, as the word implies, were coins made of blanched copper, cast in moulds of the proper die; they were then silvered and treated like the rest. it was very common to give this class of base money a crooked appearance, by which means they seemed genuine, and got into circulation without suspicion. the _figs_, or _fig things_, were the lowest and meanest class, and was confined chiefly to sixpences. copper counterfeit money was principally of two kinds, stamped and plain, made out of base metal; the profit on them being about a hundred per cent. they were mostly halfpennies; but farthings were also largely manufactured, the material being real copper, but the fraud was in their being of light weight, and very thin. the prosecutions for coining were very numerous. the register of the solicitor to the mint recorded as many as in a period of seven years. the offence of making or uttering, till a very recent date, constituted petty treason, and met with the usual penalties. these, in the case of female offenders, included hanging and burning at a stake. the last woman who suffered in this way was burnt before the debtors' door, in front of newgate, in , having been previously strangled. in the following year, as i have already said, the geo. iii. cap. was passed, which abolished the practice of burning women convicted of petty treason.[ ] persons guilty of only selling or dealing in base money were more leniently dealt with. the offence was long only a misdemeanour, carrying with it a sentence of imprisonment for a year and a day, which the culprit passed not unpleasantly in newgate, while his friends or relations kept the business going outside, and supplied him regularly with ample funds. there was as yet little security for life and property in town or country. the streets of london were still unsafe; high roads and bye roads leading to it were still infested by highway robbers. the protection afforded to the public by the police continued very inefficient. it was still limited to parochial effort; the watchmen were appointed by the vestries, and received a bare pittance,--twelve and sixpence a week in summer, seventeen and sixpence in winter,--which they often eked out by taking bribes from the women of the town, or by a share in a burglar's "swag," to whose doings they were conveniently blind. these watchmen were generally middle-aged, often old and feeble men, who were appointed either from charitable motives, to give them employment, or save them from being inmates of the workhouse and a burthen to the parish. their hours of duty were long, from night-fall to sunrise, during which, when so disposed, they patrolled the streets, calling the hour, the only check on their vigilance being the occasional rounds of the parish beadle, who visited the watchmen on their various beats. in spite of this the watchmen were often invisible; not to be found when most wanted, and even when present, powerless to arrest or make head against disorderly or evilly-disposed persons. besides the watchmen there were the parish constables, nominated by the court of burgesses, or court leet. the obligation of serving in the office of constable might fall upon any householder in turn, but he was at liberty to escape it by buying a substitute or purchasing a "tyburn ticket," of which more directly. the parish constables were concerned with pursuit rather than prevention, with crime after rather than before the fact. in this duty they were assisted by the police constables, although there was no love lost between the two classes of officer. the police constables are most familiar to us under the name of "bow street runners," but they were attached to all the police offices, and not to bow street alone. they were nominated from whitehall by the secretary of state, the minister now best known as the home secretary. the duties of the "runners" were mainly those of detection and pursuit, in which they were engaged in london and in the country, at home and abroad. individuals or public bodies applied to bow street, or some other office, for the services of a runner. these officers took charge of poaching cases, of murders, burglaries, or highway robberies. some were constantly on duty at the court, as depredations were frequently committed in the royal palaces, or the royal family were "teased by lunatics." the runners were remunerated by a regular salary of a guinea a week; but special services might be recognized by a share in the private reward offered, or, in case of conviction, by a portion of the public parliamentary reward of £ , which might be granted by the bench.[ ] the policy of making these grants was considered questionable. it tended to tempt officers of justice "to forswear themselves for the lucre of the reward," and the thirst for "blood-money," as it was called, was aggravated till it led many to sell the lives of their fellow-creatures for gain. there were numerous cases of this. jonathan wild was one of the most notorious of the dishonest thief-takers. in several scoundrels of the same kidney were convicted of having obtained the conviction of innocent people, simply to pocket the reward. their offence did not give under penal statute, so they were merely exposed in the pillory, where, however, the mob pelted one to death and nearly killed another. again, in , a police officer named vaughan was guilty of inciting to crime, in order to betray his victims and receive the blood-money. on the other hand, when conviction was doubtful the offender enjoyed long immunity from arrest. officers would not arrest him until he "weighed his weight," as the saying was, or until they were certain of securing the £ reward. another form of remuneration was the bestowal on conviction of a "tyburn ticket"; in other words, of an exemption from service in parish offices. this the officer sold for what it would fetch, the price varying in different parishes from £ or £ to £ or £ . it was not to be wondered at that a weak and inadequate police force, backed up by such uncertain and injudicious incentives to activity, should generally come off second-best in its struggles with the hydra-headed criminality of the day. robberies and burglaries were committed almost under the eyes of the police. it was calculated that the value of the property stolen in the city in one month (_circa_ ) amounted to £ , , and none of the parties were even known or apprehended, although sought after night and day.[ ] such cases as the following were of frequent occurrence. "seven ruffians, about eight o'clock at night, knocked at the door of mrs. abercrombie in charlotte street, rathbone place, calling out 'post!' and on its being opened, rushed in and took from mrs. a. her jewels and fifty or sixty guineas in money, with all the clothes and linen they could get. the neighbourhood was alarmed, and a great crowd assembled, but the robbers sallied forth, and with swords drawn and pistols presented, threatened destruction to any who opposed them. the mob tamely suffered them to escape with their booty without making any resistance." the officers of justice were openly defied. there were streets, such as duck lane, gravel lane, or cock lane, in which it was unsafe for any one to venture without an escort of five or six of his fellows. "they (the ruffians) would have cut him to pieces if he was alone." still more dastardly were the wanton outrages perpetrated upon unprotected females, often in broad daylight, and in the public streets. these at one time increased to an alarming extent. ladies were attacked and wounded without warning, and apparently without cause. the injuries were often most serious. on one occasion a young lady was stabbed in the face by means of an instrument concealed in a bouquet of flowers which a ruffian had begged her to smell. when consternation was greatest, however, it was reported that the cowardly assailant was in custody. he proved to be one renwick williams, now generally remembered as "the monster." the assault for which he was arrested was made in st. james's street, about midnight, upon a young lady, miss porter, who was returning from a ball to her father's house. renwick struck at her with a knife, and wounded her badly through her clothes, accompanying the blow with the grossest language. the villain at the time escaped, but miss porter recognized him six months later in st. james's park. he was followed by a mr. coleman to his quarters at no. , jermyn street, and brought to miss porter's house. the young lady, crying "that is the wretch!" fainted away at the sight of him. the prisoner indignantly repudiated that he was "the monster" who was advertised for, but he was indicted at the old bailey, and the jury found him guilty without hesitation. his sentence was two years' imprisonment in newgate, and he was bound over in £ to be of good behaviour. gentlemen, some of the highest station, going or returning from court, were often the victims of the depredations committed in the royal precincts. in a gang of thieves dressed in court suits smuggled themselves into a drawing-room of st. james's palace, and tried to hustle and rob the prince of wales. the duke of beaufort, returning from a levee, had his "george," pendant to his ribbon of the garter, stolen from him in the yard of st. james's palace. the order was set with brilliants, worth a very large sum of money. the duke called out to his servants, who came up and seized a gentlemanly man dressed in black standing near. the "george" was found in this gentleman's pocket. he proved to be one henry sterne, commonly called gentleman harry,[ ] who, being of good address and genteel appearance, easily got admission to the best company, upon whom he levied his contributions. george barrington, the notorious pickpocket, also found it to his advantage to attend levees and drawing-rooms. barrington, or waldron, which was his real name, began crime early. when one of a strolling company in ireland, he recruited the empty theatrical treasury and supplemented meagre receipts by stealing watches and purses, the proceeds being divided among the rest of the actors. he found thieving so much more profitable than acting that he abandoned the latter in favour of the former profession, and set up as a gentleman pickpocket. having worked dublin well, his native land became too hot to hold him, and came to london. at ranelagh one night he relieved both the duke of leinster and sir william draper of considerable sums. he visited also the principal watering places, including bath, but london was his favourite hunting-ground. disguised as a clergyman, he went to court on drawing-room days, and picked pockets or removed stars and decorations from the breasts of their wearers. at covent garden theatre one night he stole a gold snuff-box set with brilliants, and worth £ , , belonging to prince orloff, of which there had been much talk, and which, with other celebrated jewels, barrington had long coveted. the russian prince felt the thief's hand in his pocket, and immediately seized barrington by the throat, on which the latter slipped back the snuff-box. but barrington was arrested and committed for trial, escaping this time because prince orloff would not prosecute. he was, however, again arrested for picking a pocket in drury lane theatre, and sentenced to three years' hard labour on board the hulks in the thames. from this he was released prematurely through the good offices of a gentleman who pitied him, only to be reimprisoned, but in newgate, not the hulks, for fresh robberies at the opera house, pantheon, and other places of public resort. once more released, he betook himself to his old evil courses, and having narrowly escaped capture in london, wandered through the northern counties in various disguises, till he was at length taken at newcastle-on-tyne. another narrow escape followed, through the absence of a material witness; but he was finally arrested for picking a pocket on epsom downs, and sentenced to seven years' transportation. he made an affecting speech at his trial, urging, in extenuation of his offence, that he had never had a fair chance of earning an honest livelihood. he may have been sincere, and he certainly took the first opportunity of trying to do well. on the voyage out to new south wales there was a mutiny on board the convict ship, which would have been successful but for barrington's aid on the side of authority. he kept the passage to the quarter-deck single-handed, and the mob of convicts at bay with a marline-spike, till the captain and crew were able to get arms and make head against the revolt. as a reward for his conduct, barrington was appointed to a position of trust, in charge of other prisoners at paramatta. within a year or two he was advanced to the more onerous and responsible post of chief constable, and was complimented by the governor of the colony for his faithful performance of the duty. he fell away in health, however, and retiring eventually upon a small pension, died before he was fifty years of age. the gentlemen of the highway continued to harass and rob all travellers. all the roads were infested. two or three would be heard of every morning; some on hounslow heath, some on finchley common, some on wimbledon common, some on the romford road. townshend, the bow street runner, declared that on arriving at the office of a morning people came in one after the other to give information of such robberies. "messrs. mellish, bosanquet, and pole, merchants of the city," says a contemporary chronicle, "were stopped by three highwaymen on hounslow heath. after robbing them, without resistance, of their money and their watches, one of the robbers wantonly fired into the chaise and mortally wounded mr. mellish." the first successful effort made to put down this levying of blackmail upon the king's highway was the establishment of the police horse patrol in . it was organized by the direction of the chief magistrate at bow street, then sir nathaniel conant, and under the immediate orders of a conductor, mr. day. this force consisted of mounted constables, who every night regularly patrolled all the roads leading into the metropolis. they worked singly between two stations, each starting at a fixed time from each end, halting midway to communicate, then returning. the patrol acted on any information received _en route_, making themselves known as they rode along to all persons riding horses or in carriages, by calling out in a loud tone "bow street patrol." they arrested all known offenders whom they met with, [illustration] and were fully armed for their own and the public protection. the members of this excellent force were paid eight-and-twenty shillings a week, with turnpike tolls and forage for their horses, which, however, they were obliged to groom and take care of. marked and immediate results obtained from the establishment of this patrol. highway robbery ceased almost entirely, and in the rare cases which occurred before it quite died out, the guilty parties were invariably apprehended. there was as yet no very marked diminution in the number of executions, but other forms of punishment were growing into favour. already transportation beyond the seas had grown into a system. since the settlement of new south wales as a penal colony in , convicts were sent out regularly, and in increasingly large batches. the period between conviction and embarkation was spent in newgate, thus adding largely to its criminal population, with disastrous consequences to the health and convenience of the place. besides these, the most heinous criminals, there were other lesser offenders, for whom various terms of imprisonment was deemed a proper and sufficient penalty. hence gaols were growing much more crowded, newgate more especially, as i shall presently show. for the present i propose to give the reader some of the types of persons who became lodgers in newgate, not temporarily, as in the case of all who passed quickly from the condemned cells to the gallows, but who remained there for longer periods, whether awaiting removal as transports, or working out a sentence of imprisonment in the course of law. as london, increased in size and life, became more complex, chances multiplied for rogues and sharpers, who tried with chicane and stratagem to prey upon society. swindling was carried out more systematically and upon a wider scale than in the days of jenny diver or the sham german princess.[ ] a woman named robinson was arrested in , who, under the pretence of being a rich heiress, had obtained goods fraudulently from tradesmen to the value of £ , . again, some years later, a gang resembling somewhat the "long firms" of modern days carried on a fictitious trade, and obtained goods from city merchants worth £ , . there were many varieties of the professional swindler in those days. some did business under the guise of licensed and outwardly respectable pawnbrokers, who _sub rosâ_ were traffickers in stolen goods. others roamed the country as hawkers, general dealers, and peddlers, distributing exciseable articles which had been smuggled into the country, carrying on fraudulent raffles, purchasing stolen horses in one county and disposing of them in another. the "duffer" went from door to door in the town, offering for sale smuggled tobacco, muslins, or other stuffs, and, if occasion served, passing forged notes or bad money as small change. where the swindler possessed such qualifications as a pleasing manner and a gentlemanly address, with a small capital to start with, he flew at higher game. alexander day, alias marmaduke davenport, esq., was one of the first of a long line of impostors who made a great show, in a fine house in a fashionable neighbourhood, with sham footmen in smart liveries, and a grand carriage and pair. the latter he got in on approval, taking care while he used them to be driven to the duke of montague's and other aristocratic mansions. in the carriage too he called on numbers of tradesmen and gave large orders for goods: yards of spanish point-lace, a gold "equipage" or dinner-service, silks in long pieces, table and other linen enough to furnish several houses. by clever excuses he postponed payment, or made off with the property by a second door. among other things ordered was a gold chain for his squirrel, which already wore a silver one. the goldsmith recognized the silver chain as one he had recently sold to a lady, and his suspicions were aroused. on reference to her she denounced day as a swindler, who had cheated her out of a large sum of money. day was forthwith arrested and sent to newgate. at his trial he declared that he meant to pay for everything he had ordered, that he owned an estate in durham worth £ a year, but that it was heavily mortgaged. the case occupied some time, but in the end day was sentenced to two years' imprisonment in newgate, to stand twice in the pillory, find security for his good behaviour, and pay a fine of £ . the cleverest swindles were often effected by the softer sex. female sharpers infested all places of public resort. they dressed in the best clothes, and personating ladies of the highest fashion, attended entertainments and masquerades; they even succeeded in gaining admission to st. james's palace, where they got into the general circle and pilfered right and left. one woman, the wife of a notorious chevalier d'industrie, was known to have been at court at the king's birthday (george iii.). her costume was in irreproachable good taste; her husband attended her in the garb of a dignitary of the church. between them they managed to levy contributions to the extent of £ , and made off before these thefts were discovered or suspected. a notable female sharper was elizabeth harriet grieve, whose line of business was to pretend that she possessed great influence at court, and promise preferment. she gave out that she was highly connected: lord north was her first cousin, the duke of grafton her second; she was nearly related to lady fitz-roy, and most intimate with lord guildford and other peers. in those days places were shamelessly bought and sold, and tradesmen retiring from business, or others who had amassed a little property, invested their savings in a situation under the crown. when the law at length laid hands on the hon. elizabeth harriet, as she styled herself, a great number of cases were brought against her. a coach-carver, whose trade was declining, had paid her £ to obtain him a place as clerk in the victualling office. another man gave her £ down, with a conditional bond for £ , to get the place of a "coast" or "tide"-waiter. both were defrauded. there were many more proved against her, and she was eventually sentenced to transportation. she was only one of many who followed the same trade. david james dignum was convicted in of pretending to sell places under government, and sentenced to hard labour on the thames. dignum's was a barefaced kind of imposition. he went the length of handing his victims, in exchange for the fees, which were never less than a hundred guineas, a stamped parchment duly signed by the head of the public department, with seals properly attached. in one case he got £ for pretending to secure a person the office of "writer of the 'london gazette.'" of course the signatures to these instruments were forged, and the seals had been removed from some legal warrant. when the time came for dignum's departure for the hulks, he resolved to go to woolwich in state, and travelled down in a post-chaise, accompanied by his negro servant. but on reaching the ballast lighter on which dignum was to work, his valet was refused admittance, and the convict was at once "put to the duty of the wheelbarrow." he made a desperate effort to get off by forging a cheque on drummonds, which he got others to cash. they were arrested, but their innocence was clearly shown. dignum had hoped to be brought up to london for examination. he had thought to change his lot, to exchange the hulks for newgate, even at the risk of winding up at tyburn. but in this he was foiled, as the authorities thought it best to institute no prosecution, but leave him to work out his time at the hulks. that the dishonest and evilly-disposed should thus try to turn the malversation of public patronage to their own advantage was not strange. the traffic in places long flourished unchecked in a corrupt age, and almost under the very eyes of careless, not to say culpable, administrators. the evil practice culminated in the now nearly forgotten case of mrs. mary ann clarke, who undoubtedly profited liberally by her pernicious influence over the duke of york when commander-in-chief of the army. the scandal was brought prominently before the public by colonel wardle, m.p., who charged her with carrying on a traffic in military commissions, not only with the knowledge, but the participation, of the duke of york. a long inquiry followed, at which extraordinary disclosures were made. mrs. clarke was proved to have disposed of both military and ecclesiastical patronage. she gave her own footman a pair of colours, and procured for an irish clergyman the honour of preaching before the king. her brokership extended to any department of state, and her lists of applicants included numbers of persons in the best classes of society. the duke of york was exonerated from the charge of deriving any pecuniary benefit from this disgraceful traffic; but it was clear that he was cognizant of mrs. clarke's proceedings, and that he knowingly permitted her to barter his patronage for filthy lucre. mrs. clarke was examined in person at the bar of the house. in the end a vote acquitted the duke of personal corruption, and the matter was allowed to drop. but a little later colonel wardle was sued by an upholsterer for furniture supplied at his order to mrs. clarke, and the disinterestedness of the colonel's exposure began to be questioned. in mrs. clarke was sentenced to nine months' imprisonment for a libel on the irish chancellor of the exchequer. a clever scheme of deception which went very near success was that perpetrated by robert jaques. jaques filled the post of "clerk of the papers" to the warden of the fleet, a place which he had himself solicited, on the plea that he was a man of experience, able to guard the warden against the tricks incident to his trust. jaques admitted that his own antecedents were none of the best, that he had been frequently in gaol, but he pleaded that "men like himself, who had been guilty of the worst offences, had afterwards become the best officers." no sooner was jaques appointed than he began to mature a plot against his employer. the warden of the fleet by his office became responsible for the debt of any prisoner in his custody who might escape. jaques at once cast about for some one whom he might through a third party cause to be arrested, brought to the fleet on a sham action, and whom he would assist to escape. the third party's business would then be to sue the warden for the amount of the evaded debt. jaques applied to a friend, mr. tronson, who had been a servant, an apothecary, a perfumer, and a quack doctor. tronson found him one shanley, a needy irishman, short of stature and of fair complexion, altogether a person who might well be disguised as a woman. jaques next arranged that a friend should get a warrant against shanley for £ . upon this, shanley, who was easily found, being a "dressy young gentleman, fond of blue and gold," was arrested and carried to a spunging-house. while there a second writ was served upon shanley for £ , at the suit of another friend of jaques. shanley was next transferred to the fleet on a habeas, applied for by a fictitious attorney. the very next sunday, jaques gave a dinner-party, at which his wife, a brother, mr. john jaques, and his wife, with some of the parties to the suits, and of course shanley, were present. later in the day shanley exchanged clothes with mrs. john jaques, and, personating her, walked out of the prison. it was at a time when an under turnkey was on duty at the gate, and he let the disguised prisoner pass without question. by-and-by mrs. jaques got back her clothes, and also left. shanley had meanwhile proceeded post haste to dover, and so reached the continent. as soon as the escape was discovered, suspicion fell on jaques's friends, who were openly taxed with connivance. the matter looked worse for them when they laid claim to the money considered forfeited by the disappearance of the debtor, and the law stepped in to prosecute inquiry. the head turnkey, tracking shanley to calais, went in pursuit. at the same time a correspondence which was in progress between the conspirators on either side of the channel was intercepted by order of the secretary of state, and the letters handed over to the warden's solicitors. from these the whole plot was discovered, and the guilt of the parties rendered the more sure by the confession of shanley. jaques was arrested, tried, and convicted at the old bailey, receiving the sentence of three years' imprisonment, with one public exposure on the pillory at the royal exchange. a curious accident, however, helped to obtain the premature release of jaques from newgate. a sir james saunderson having been robbed of a large sum in cash and notes, portion of the stolen property was brought into newgate by some of the thieves, who were arrested on another charge. the notes were intrusted to jaques, who pretended he could raise money on them. instead of this, he gave immediate notice to their rightful owner that he had them in his possession. jaques afterwards petitioned sir james saunderson to interest himself in his behalf, and through this gentleman's good offices he escaped the exposure upon the pillory, and was eventually pardoned. a peculiar feature in the criminal records of the early part of the present century was the general increase in juvenile depravity. this was remarked and commented upon by all concerned in the administration of justice: magistrates of all categories, police officers, gaolers, and philanthropists. it was borne out, moreover, by the statistics of the times. there were in the various london prisons, in the year , three thousand inmates under twenty years of age. nearly half of this number were under seventeen, and a thousand of these alone were convicted of felony. many of those sent to prison were indeed of tender years. some were barely nine or ten. children began to steal when they could scarcely crawl. cases were known of infants of barely six charged in the courts with crimes. this deplorable depravity was attributable to various causes: to the profligacy prevailing in the parish schools; the cruel and culpable neglect of parents who deserted their offspring, leaving them in a state of utter destitution, or were guilty of the no less disgraceful wickedness of using them as instruments for their nefarious designs; the artfulness of astute villains--prototypes of old fagin--who trained the youthful idea in their own devious ways. the last-named was a fruitful source of juvenile crime. children were long permitted to commit small thefts with impunity. the offence would have been death to those who used them as catspaws; for them capital punishment was humanely nearly impossible; moreover, the police officers ignored them till they "weighed their weight," or had been guilty of a forty-pound crime.[ ] the education in iniquity continued steadily. they went from bad to worse, and ere long became regular inmates of "flash houses," where both sexes mixed freely with vicious companions of their own age, and the most daring enjoyed the hero-worship of their fellows. when thus assembled, they formed themselves into distinct parties or gangs, each choosing one of their number as captain, and dividing themselves into reliefs to work certain districts, one by day and by night. when they had "collared their swag," they returned to divide their plunder, having gained sometimes as much as three or four hundred pounds. a list of these horrible dens prepared about this date showed that there were two hundred of them, frequented by six thousand boys and girls, who lived solely by this way, or were the associates of thieves. these haunts were situated in st. giles, drury lane, chick lane, saffron hill, the borough, and ratcliffe highway. others that were out of luck crowded the booths of covent garden, where all slept promiscuously amongst the rotting garbage of the stalls. during the daytime all were either actively engaged in thieving, or were revelling in low amusements. gambling was a passion with them, indulged in without let or hindrance in the open streets; and from tossing buttons there they passed on to playing in the low publics at such games as "put," or "the rocks of scylla," "bumble puppy," "tumble tumble," or "nine holes." still more demoralizing than the foregoing was the pernicious habit, commonly, but happily not invariably followed, of committing these young thieves to newgate. here these tyros were at once associated with the veterans and great leaders in crime. old house-breakers expatiated upon their own deeds, and found eager and willing pupils among their youthful listeners. the elder and more evilly experienced boys soon debased and corrupted their juniors. one with twenty previous convictions against him, who had been in newgate as often, would have alongside him an infant of seven or eight, sent to gaol for the first time for stealing a hearth-broom. it was as bad or worse for the females. girls of twelve or thirteen were mixed up with the full-grown felons; one of the latter, as in a known case, who was what we should style in these days an habitual criminal, and who had been committed thirty times to newgate, residing there generally nine months out of every twelve, was the wardswoman or prisoner-officer, with nearly unlimited power. the crying evils of the system had moved private philanthropy to do something in remedy. charitable schools, the forerunners of our modern reformatories, or the germ and nucleus of time-honoured institutions still flourishing, and worthy all praise, were started. i shall refer to these more particularly in a later chapter.[ ] other well-meaning people, each with their own pet scheme, began to theorize and propose the construction of juvenile penitentiaries, economical imitations mostly of the great penitentiary which was nearly completed at millbank. but juvenile crime still grew and flourished, the offences were as numerous as ever, and their character was mostly the same. the most favourite pastime was that of picking pockets. boys then as now were especially skilful at this in a crowd; short, active little chaps, they slipped through quickly with their booty, and passed it on to the master who was directing the operations. shop-lifting, again, was much practised, the dodge being to creep along on hands and feet to the shop fronts of haberdashers and linen-drapers, and snatch what they could. again, there were clever young thieves who could "starr" a pane in a window, and so get their hands through the glass. but there were boys convicted of highway robbery, like joseph wood and thomas underwood, one fourteen and the other twelve, both of whom were hanged. another boy, barely sixteen, was executed for setting his master's house on fire. the young incendiary was pot-boy at a public-house, and having been reprimanded for neglect, vowed revenge. another boy was condemned for forming one of a gang of boys and girls in a street robbery, who fell upon a man in liquor. the girls attacked him, and the boys stripped him of all he had. perhaps the most astounding precocity in crime was that displayed by a boy named leary, who was tried and sentenced to death at thirteen years of age for stealing a watch and chain from some chambers in the temple. he began at the early age of eight, and progressed regularly from stealing apples to burglary and household robbery. he learnt the trade first from a companion at school. after exacting toll from the tart-shops, he took to stealing bakers' loaves, then money from shop counters and tills, or breaking shop windows and drawing their contents through. he often appeared at school with several pounds in his pocket, the proceeds of his depredations. he soon became captain of a gang known as leary's gang, who drove about, armed with pistols, in a cart, watching for carriages with the trunks fastened outside, which they could cut away. in these excursions the gang was often out for a week or more, leary's share of the profits amounting sometimes to £ . once, the result of several robberies in and about london, he amassed some £ , but the money was partly stolen from him by older thieves, or he squandered it in gambling, or in the flash houses. after committing innumerable depredations, he was captured in a gentleman's dining-room in the act of abstracting a quantity of plate. he was found guilty, but out of compassion committed to the philanthropic school. he was recaptured, however, and eventually sentenced to transportation for life. the prevailing tastes of the populace were in these times low and depraved. their amusements were brutal, their manners and customs disreputable, their morality at the lowest ebb. it is actually on record that little more than a hundred years ago a man and his wife were convicted of offering their niece, "a fine young girl, apparently fourteen years of age," for sale [illustration: whipping at the old bailey.] at the royal exchange. mr. and mrs. crouch were residents of bodmin, cornwall, to which remote spot came a report that "maidens were very scarce in london, and that they sold there for a good price." they accordingly travelled up to town by road, two hundred and thirty-two miles, and on arrival hawked the poor girl about the streets. at length they "accosted an honest captain of a ship, who instantly made known the base proposal they had made to him." the crouches were arrested and tried; the man was sentenced to six months' imprisonment in newgate, but his wife, as having acted under his influence, was acquitted. traffic in dead bodies was more actively prosecuted. the wretches who gained the name of resurrection men despoiled graveyards to purvey subjects for the dissecting knife. there were dealers who traded openly in these terrible goods, and, as has been seen in the chapter on executions, their agents haggled for corpses at the foot of the gallows. sometimes the culprits were themselves the guardians of the sacred precincts. i find that the grave-digger of st. george's, bloomsbury, was convicted, with a female accomplice, of stealing a dead body, and sentenced to imprisonment. they were also "whipped twice on their bare backs from the end of king's gate street, holborn, to dyot street, st. giles, being half a mile." to this crime, and its development in the persons of burke and hare, i shall recur on a later page. disorderly gatherings for the prosecution of the popular sports were of constant occurrence. the vice of gambling was openly practised in the streets. it was also greatly fostered by the metropolitan fairs, of which there were eighty annually, lasting from easter to september, when bartholomew fair was held. these fairs were the resort of the idle and the profligate, and most of the desperate characters in london were included in the crowd. another favourite amusement was bull-baiting or bullock-hunting. sunday morning was generally chosen for this pastime. a subscription was made to pay the hire of an animal from some drover or butcher, which was forthwith driven through the most populous parts of the town; often across church-yards when divine service was in progress, pursued by a yelling mob, who goaded the poor brute to madness with sharp pointed sticks, or thrust peas into its ears. when nearly dead the poor beast rejoined its herd, and was driven on to smithfield market. a system of bull-baits was introduced at westminster by two notorious characters known as caleb baldwin and hubbersfield, otherwise slender billy, which attracted great crowds, and led to drunkenness and scenes of great disorder. towards the close of the eighteenth century a still lower and more debasing amusement sprang suddenly into widespread popularity. the patronage of pugilism or prize-fighting was no doubt supposed by many to be the glorification of the national virtues of courage and endurance. it was also greatly due to the gradual disuse of the practice of carrying side-arms, when it was thought that quarrels would be fought out with fists instead of swords. hence the "noble art of self-defence," as it was styled magniloquently, found supporters in every class of society. prize-fights first became fashionable about , following a great encounter between two noted pugilists, named richard humphreys and daniel mendoza, a jew. sporting papers were filled with accounts of the various fights, which peer and pickpocket attended side by side, and which even a royal prince did not disdain to honour. these professional bruisers owned many noble patrons. besides, the prince of wales, the dukes of clarence and york, the duke of hamilton, lords barrymore and others, attended prize-fights and sparring matches at theatres and public places. a well-known pugilist, who was summoned for an assault at covent garden theatre, brought forward in his defence the terms of intimacy he was on with noted people; the very day on which he was charged, that he had dined at the piazza coffee house with general gwynne, colonel mcdouel, captains barkley and hanbury, after which they had all gone to the theatre. these aristocratic friends were, moreover, ready to be useful at a pinch, and would bail out a pugilist in trouble, or give him their countenance and support. at the trial of one william ward, who had killed a man in a fight, the pugilist was attended by his patrons in court. the case was a bad one. ward, on his way to see a fight in the country, had been challenged by a drunken blacksmith, and proved to him after a few rounds that he was no match for the trained bruiser. the blacksmith did not like his "punishment," and tried to escape into the bar, when his antagonist followed him, and actually beat him to death. at the trial ward was found guilty of manslaughter, fined one shilling, and only sentenced to be imprisoned three months in newgate. yet the judge who inflicted this light punishment condemned boxing as an inhuman and disgraceful practice, a disgrace to any civilized nation. to the foregoing categories of undoubted criminals must be added another pretty numerous class of offenders, who were at least so deemed by contemporary codes, and who now frequently found themselves relegated to newgate. these were days when the press had far from achieved its present independence; when writers, chafing under restraints and reckless of consequence, were tempted into licence from sheer bravado and opposition; when others far more innocent were brought under the same ban of the law, and suffered imprisonment and fine for a hardly unwarrantable freedom of speech. it is to be feared that the frequent prosecutions instituted had often their origin in political antipathy. while ministerial prints might libel and revile the opponents of the governments, journals which did not spare the party in power were humiliated and brow-beaten, difficulties were thrown in the way of their obtaining intelligence, and if they dared to express their opinions freely, "an information _ex officio_," as it was styled, was issued by the attorney-general. prosecution followed, protracted to the bitter end. even what seems to us the harmless practice of parliamentary reporting was deemed a breach of privilege; it was tolerated, but never expressly permitted. offending journalists were often reprimanded at the bar of the house, and any member who felt aggrieved at the language attributed to him was at liberty to claim the protection of the house. when legislators and executive were so sensitive, it was hardly likely that the great ones, the supposed salt of the earth, should be less thin-skinned. any kind of criticism upon princes of the blood was looked upon as rank blasphemy; the morals of a not blameless or too reputable aristocracy were guaranteed immunity from attack, while the ecclesiastical hierarchy was apparently not strong enough to vindicate its tenets or position without having recourse to the secular arm. as time passed, the early martyrs to freedom of speech, such men as prynne bastwick and daniel defoe, were followed by many victims to similar oppression. one of the first to suffer after defoe was the nonjuring clergyman lawrence howell, who died in newgate. he was prosecuted about for writing a pamphlet in which he denounced george i. as a usurper. he was tried at the old bailey, convicted, and sentenced to pay a fine of £ to the king, to find sureties for an additional sum, to be imprisoned in newgate for three years, and during that term to be twice whipped. he was also to be degraded and stripped of his gown by the common executioner. howell asked indignantly of his judges, "who will whip a clergyman?" "we pay no deference to your cloth," replied the court, "because you are a disgrace to it, and have no right to wear it." the validity of his ordination was also denied by the court, and as howell continued to protest, the hangman was ordered to tear off his gown as he stood there at the bar. the public whipping was not inflicted, but howell died soon afterwards in newgate. next came nathaniel mist, who was sentenced in to stand in the pillory, to pay a fine, and suffer imprisonment for reflecting upon the action of george i. as regards the protestants in the palatinate. his paper, the 'weekly journal' or 'saturday's post,' was notoriously jacobite in its views. soon afterwards he came under the displeasure of the house of commons for instituting comparisons between the times of the ' rebellion and those which followed, and was committed to newgate for uttering a "false, malicious, and scandalous libel." this interference by the house with mist's publications in a matter which did not concern its privileges is characterized by hallam as an extraordinary assumption of parliamentary power. tom paine, whose rationalist writings gained him much obloquy later on, was one of the next in point of time to feel the arm of the law. in he was convicted of three libels on the government, fined £ , and imprisoned for a year. a clergyman, william rowland, was put in the pillory in for commenting too freely in print on two magistrates who had failed to convict and punish prisoners charged with unnatural crimes. mr. rowland was pilloried in his canonical habit, and preached all the time to the multitude, complaining of the injustice of his sentence, "whereupon the people, and amongst them were several women, made a collection for him." about , newspapers were especially established for purposes of political party warfare, and each side libelled or prosecuted the other in turn. the 'craftsman' about this date sprang into the first rank for wit and invective. its editors were constantly in trouble; the statesmen who supported it had to defend their bantling with their swords. in the printer, henry haines, was sentenced to two years' imprisonment for producing the paper. in dr. shebbeare was fined, put in the pillory, and imprisoned for three years, his offence being the publication of what was deemed a scandalous libel in his 'sixth letter to the english people.' four years later, john wilkes, m.p., started the 'north briton,' a liberal print, in opposition to smollet's 'briton,' a tory paper, which was subsidized and supported by lord bute, then in power. john wilkes was no doubt assisted by lord temple and john churchill the satirist. the 'north briton' had been intended to assail lord bute's government, but it was not until its forty-fifth number that the dash and boldness of its contributors attracted general attention. in this number a writer rashly accused the king of falsehood.[ ] the matter was at once taken up; proceedings were instituted against printer and publisher, who were arrested, as was also wilkes. these arrests subsequently formed the subject of lengthy lawsuits; they were in the end declared illegal, and all three got heavy damages. wilkes was, however, expelled from the house, by whose order the offending numbers of the 'north briton' were burnt by the common hangman. but these measures did not extinguish the 'north briton,' which was continued as far as the two hundred and seventeenth number, when mr. william bingley, a bookseller, who at that time owned it, was committed to newgate, and kept there a couple of years for refusing to reply to interrogatories connected with an earlier number of the paper. wilkes, who had fled to france to escape imprisonment, next fell under the displeasure of the house of lords. the 'london evening post,' a paper which had already come into collision with the commons for presuming to publish reports of debates, committed the seemingly venial offence of inserting a letter from wilkes, in which he commented rather freely upon a peer of the realm at that time british ambassador in paris. the house of lords could not touch wilkes, but they took proceedings against the printer for breach of privilege in presuming to mention the name of one of its members,[ ] and fined him £ . the precedent soon became popular, and in succeeding sessions printers were constantly fined whenever they mentioned, even by accident, the name of a peer. journalism was in these days an ill-used profession. the reign of george iii. must always be remembered as a time when newspapers and those who wrote them were at the mercy of the people in power. grant[ ] declares that the despotic and tyrannical treatment of the press during the several administrations under george iii. had no parallel in english history. the executive was capriciously sensitive to criticism, and readily roused to extreme measures. no newspaper indeed was safe; the editors of liberal prints, or their contributors, who touched on political subjects were at the mercy of the attorney-general. any morning's issue might be made the subject of a prosecution, and every independent writer on the wrong side went in daily dread of fine, the pillory, or committal to newgate.[ ] among the early records of the great organ which custom has long honoured with the title of the "leading journal," are several instances of the dangers journalists ran. the 'daily universal register,' started by the first mr. john walter in , became the 'times' in . on the th july, , the publisher--at that time mr. walter himself--of the paper was tried and convicted of alleged libels on three royal dukes, york, gloucester, and cumberland, whose joy at the recovery of the king the 'times' dared to characterize as "insincere." the sentence decreed and inflicted was a fine of £ , imprisonment in newgate for one year, and exposure on the pillory at charing cross. a second prosecution followed, intended to protect, and if possible rehabilitate, the prince of wales, and mr. walter, having been brought from newgate for the trial, was sentenced to a further fine of £ , and a like sum for a libel on the duke of clarence. mr. walter remained in newgate for eighteen months, and was released in march , having been pardoned at the instance of the prince of wales. nor was the law invoked in favour of our own princes alone. a few years later a foreign monarch obtained equal protection, and the editor, printer, and publisher of the 'courier' were fined and imprisoned for stigmatizing the czar of russia as a tyrant among his own subjects, and ridiculous to the rest of europe. the house of peers, including the bench of bishops, continued very sensitive. in the printer of the 'cambridge intelligence' was brought to the bar of the house, charged for reflecting on the speech of the bishop of llandaff concerning the union with ireland. lord grenville moved that the printer should be fined £ and committed to newgate; lord holland protested, but it was justified by lord kenyon, and the motion was carried. lord kenyon did not spare the unfortunates arraigned before him for libel. one thomas spence, who published a pamphlet called 'spence's restorer of society,' in which the abolition of private ownership of land was advocated, and its investment in parishes for the good of the public at large, was brought before lord kenyon, and sentenced by him to twelve months' imprisonment and a fine of £ . another peer, lord ellenborough, who prosecuted messrs. white and hart for a libel in , obtained a conviction against them, and a sentence of three years' imprisonment. in the house of commons distinguished itself by a prosecution which led to rather serious consequences. at a debate on the walcheren expedition, a member, mr. yorke, had insisted from day to day upon the exclusion of strangers, and another, mr. windham, had inveighed violently against press reporting. upon this a question was discussed at a debating society known as the "british forum," as to whether mr. yorke's or mr. windham's conduct was the greater outrage on the public feeling. the decision was given against mr. yorke, and the result announced in a placard outside. this placard was constituted a breach of privilege, "comment upon the proceedings of the house being deemed a contravention of the bill of rights." a mr. john gale jones confessing himself the author of the placard, he was forthwith committed to newgate. sir francis burdett took jones' part, and published his protest, signed, in cobbett's 'weekly register.' the house on this ordered the sergeant-at-arms to arrest sir francis and take him to the tower. sir francis resisted, and was carried off by force.[ ] a riot occurred _en route_, the crowd attacked the escort, and the troops fired, with fatal consequences, upon the crowd. sir francis appealed to the law courts, which in the end refused to take cognizance of the questions at issue, and he was released, returning home in triumph. mr. john gale jones claimed to be tried, and refused to leave newgate without it; but he was got out by a stratagem, loudly complaining that he had been illegally imprisoned, and illegally thrust out. jones was sentenced in the autumn of the same year to twelve months' imprisonment in coldbath fields gaol. another and a better known writer found himself in newgate about this time. in william cobbett was tried for animadverting too openly upon the indignity of subjecting english soldiers to corporal punishment, for which he was sentenced to two years' imprisonment in newgate, and a fine of £ . this was not his first prosecution, but it was by far the most serious. shorter sentences of imprisonment were imposed on his printers and publishers, messrs. hansard, budd, and bagshaw. some other notable criminals found themselves in newgate about this date. in it became the place of punishment for two government officials who were convicted of embezzlement on a large scale. the first, mr. alexander davison, was employed to purchase barrack-stores for the government on commission. he was intrusted with this duty by the barrack-master general, as a person of extensive mercantile experience, to avoid the uncertainty of trusting to contractors. mr. davison was to receive a commission of - / per cent. instead of buying in the best and cheapest markets, he himself became the seller, thus making a profit on the goods and receiving the commission as well; or, in the words of mr. justice grose, davison, when "receiving a stipend to check the frauds of others, and insure the best commodities at the cheapest rate, became the tradesman and seller of the article, and had thereby an interest to increase his own profit, and to commit that fraud it was his duty to prevent." davison disgorged some £ , of his ill-won profits, and this was taken into consideration in his sentence, which was limited to imprisonment in newgate for twenty-one months. the other delinquent was mr. valentine jones, who had been appointed commissary-general and superintendent of forage and provisions in the west indies in . a large british force was at that time stationed in the west indian islands, which entailed vast disbursements from the public exchequer. the whole of this money passed through the hands of mr. jones. his career of fraud began directly he took over his duties. mr. higgins, a local merchant, came to him proposing to renew contracts for the supply of the troops, but mr. jones would only consent to their renewal on condition that he shared mr. higgins' profits. higgins protested, but at length yielded. within three years the enormous sum of £ , sterling was paid over to jones as his share in this nefarious transaction. mr. jones was tried at the king's bench and sentenced to three years' imprisonment in newgate. soon afterwards a person of very high rank was committed to newgate. this was the marquis of sligo, who was convicted of enticing british men-of-war's men to desert, and sentenced to imprisonment, with a fine of £ . lord sligo went to malta soon after leaving college, and there hired a brig, the 'pylades,' intending to make a yachting tour in the grecian archipelago. the admiral at malta and other naval officers helped lord sligo to fit out the 'pylades,' and he was welcomed on board the various king's ships. from one of these several trusty seamen were shortly afterwards missing. their captain trusted to lord sligo's honour that he had not decoyed these men, and that he would not receive them; but at that moment the deserters were actually on board the 'pylades,' having been enticed from the service by lord sligo's servants. the 'pylades' then went on her cruise along the mediterranean. suspicion seems to have still rested on lord sligo, and after leaving palermo the 'pylades' was chased and brought to by h.m.s. 'active.' a boat boarded the 'pylades,' her crew was mustered and examined, but the deserters had been securely hidden in the after hold, and were not discovered. a little later lord sligo sailed for patmos, where some of the crew landed and were left behind; among them were the men-of-war's-men, through whom the whole affair was brought to light. lord sligo was arrested on his return to england, and tried at the old bailey. the evidence was conclusive. in the course of the trial a letter was put in from lord sligo, to the effect that if the business was brought into court he should do his best to defend himself; if he did not succeed, he had an ample fortune, and could pay the fines. no money, however, could save him from incarceration, and in accordance with the sentence of sir william scott, who was supported on the bench by lord ellenborough and mr. baron thompson, the marquis of sligo was sent to newgate for four months. chapter ii. newgate down to . newgate still overcrowded--some statistics--description of interior--the various "sides" and wards--their dimensions and uses--debtors in middlesex, generally paltry debts and colossal costs--various debtors' prisons in london described--the king's bench--the fleet--the marshalsea--the compters, ludgate, giltspur street, and borough--debtors in newgate--fees extorted--garnish--scanty food--little bedding--squalor and wretchedness prevail throughout--constant quarrels and fighting--discipline maintained only by prisoner wardsmen--their tyranny and extortion--a new debtors' prison indispensable--building of whitecross street--the criminal side--indiscriminate association of all classes--the middle yard greatly crowded with transports awaiting deportation, and with whom mere children were constantly mixed--deterioration rapid--mock courts for trials of new-comers who would not adopt the ways of the gaol--case of a decent man completely ruined--greater ease in the master felons' side--fees--the best accommodation was in the state side, and open to all who could pay--high fees charged--cobbett in state side, and the marquis of sligo--the press yard--recklessness of the condemned--cashman--the condemned cells--summary of glaring defects in newgate--scanty diet--irons--visitors admitted in crowds, including low females--crimes constantly being hatched in newgate--the corporation roused to reform newgate--appoint committee to examine other gaols--its report, and many useful recommendations--few are carried out. under the conditions referred to in the previous chapter, with criminals and misdemeanants of all shades crowding perpetually into its narrow limits, the latter state of newgate was worse than the first. the new gaol fell as far short of the demands made on it as did the old. the prison population fluctuated a great deal, but it was almost always in excess of the accommodation available, and there were times when the place was full to overflowing. neild[ ] gives some figures which well illustrate this. on the th june, , there were debtors and felons in the prison. on the th april, in the following year, these numbers had risen to and respectively, or in all. for two more years these high figures were steadily maintained, and in the total rose to . after that they fell as steadily, till, , the lowest point was touched of debtors and felons, or in all. the numbers soon increased, however, and by had again risen to ; and mr. neild was told that there had been at one time debtors and criminals in newgate, or prisoners in all. previous to that date there had been or frequently, and once, in mr. akerman's time, . trustworthy evidence is forthcoming to the effect that these high figures were constantly maintained for many months at a time. the inadequacy of the gaol was noticed and reported upon again and again by the grand juries of the city of london, who seldom let a session go by without visiting newgate. in the grand jury made a special presentment to the court of common council, pointing out that on the debtors' side, which was intended for only , no less than were crowded, to the great inconvenience and danger of the inmates. on the female side matters were much worse; "the apartments set apart for them, being built to accommodate persons, now contain about ." returns laid before the house of commons showed that persons had been committed to newgate in the three years between and , and this number did not include the debtors, a numerous class, who were still committed to newgate pending the completion of the white cross street prison. in order to realize the evils entailed by incarceration in newgate in these days, it is necessary to give some account of its interior as it was occupied and appropriated in . full details of the arrangements are to be found in mr. neild's 'state of prisons in england, scotland, and wales,' published in . the gaol at that date was divided into eight separate and more or less distinct departments, each of which had its own wards and yard. these were-- i. the male debtors' side. ii. the female debtors' side. iii. the chapel yard. iv. the middle yard. v. the master felons' side. vi. the female felons' side. vii. the state side. viii. the press yard. i. the male debtors' side consisted of a yard forty-nine feet by thirty-one, leading to thirteen wards on various floors, and a day room. of these wards, three were appropriated to the "cabin side," so called because they each contained four small rooms or "cabins" seven feet square, intended to accommodate a couple of prisoners apiece, but often much more crowded.[ ] two other wards were appropriated to the master's side debtors; they were each twenty-three feet by fourteen and a half, and supposed to accommodate twenty persons. the eight remaining wards were for the common side debtors, long narrow rooms--one thirty-six feet, six twenty-three feet, and the eighth eighteen, the whole about fifteen feet wide. the various wards were all about eleven feet in height, and were occupied as a rule by ten to fifteen people when the prison was not crowded, but double the number was occasionally placed in them. the day room was fitted with benches and settles after the manner of the tap in a public-house. ii. the female debtors' side consisted of a court-yard forty-nine by sixteen feet, leading to two wards, one of which was thirty-six feet by fifteen, and the other eighteen by fifteen; and they nominally held twenty-two persons. a high wall fifteen feet in height divided the females' court-yard from the men's. iii. the chapel yard was about forty-three feet by twenty-five. it had been for some time devoted principally to felons of the worst types, those who were the oldest offenders, sentenced to transportation, and who had narrowly escaped the penalty of death. this arrangement was, however, modified after , and the chapel yard was allotted to misdemeanants and prisoners awaiting trial. the wards in this part were five in number, all in dimensions twenty feet by fifteen, with a sixth ward fifteen feet square. these wards were all fitted with barrack-beds, but no bedding was supplied. the chapel yard led to the chapel, and on the staircase were two rooms frequently set apart for the king's witnesses, those who had turned king's evidence, whose safety might have been imperilled had they been lodged with the men against whom they had informed. but these king's witnesses were also put at times into the press yard among the capital convicts, seemingly a very dangerous proceeding, or they lodged with the gatesmen, the prisoner officers who had charge of the inner gates. iv. the middle yard was at first given up to the least heinous offenders. after it changed functions with the chapel yard. it was fifty feet by twenty-five, and had five wards each thirty-eight by fifteen. at one end of the yard was an arcade, directly under the chapel, in which there were three cells, used either for the confinement of disorderly and refractory prisoners, or female convicts ordered for execution. v. the master felons' side consisted of a yard the same size as the preceding, appropriated nominally to the most decent and better-behaved prisoners, but really kept for the few who had funds sufficient to gain them admission to these more comfortable quarters. here were also lodged the gatesmen, the prisoners who had charge of the inner gates, and who were intrusted with the duty of escorting visitors from the gates to the various wards their friends occupied. vi. the state side was the part stolen from the female felons' side. it was large and comparatively commodious, being maintained on a better footing than any other part of the prison. the inmates were privileged, either by antecedents or the fortunate possession of sufficient funds to pay the charges of the place. neild takes it for granted that the former rather than the latter prevailed in the selection, and tells us that in the state side "such prisoners were safely associated whose manners and conduct evince a more liberal style of education, and who are therefore lodged apart from all other districts of the gaol." the state side contained twelve good-sized rooms, from twenty-one by eighteen feet to fifteen feet square, which were furnished with bedsteads and bedding. vii. the press yard was that part set aside for the condemned. its name and its situation were the same as those of the old place of carrying out the terrible sentence inflicted on accused persons who stood mute.[ ] the long narrow yard still remained as we saw it in jacobite times, and beyond it was now a day room for the capital convicts or those awaiting execution. beyond the press yard were three stories, condemned cells, fifteen in all, with vaulted ceilings nine feet high to the crown of the arch. the ground floor cells were nine feet by six; those on the first floor were rather larger on account of a set-off in the wall; and the uppermost were the largest, for the same reason. security was provided for in these condemned cells by lining the substantial stone walls with planks studded with broad-headed nails; they were lighted by a double-grated window two feet nine inches by fourteen inches; and in the doors, which were four inches thick, a circular aperture had been let in to give ventilation and secure a free current of air. in each cell there was a barrack bedstead on the floor without bedding. viii. the female felons were deprived of part of the space which the architect had intended for them. more than half their quadrangle had been partitioned off for another purpose, and what remained was divided into a master's and a common side for female felons. the two yards were adjoining, that for the common side much the largest. there were nine wards in all on the female side, one of them in the attic, with four casements and two fireplaces, being allotted for a female infirmary, and the rest being provided with barrack beds, and in dimensions varying from thirty feet by fifteen to fifteen feet by ten. the eight courts above enumerated were well supplied with water; they had dust-bins, sewers, and so forth, "properly disposed,"[ ] and the city scavenger paid periodical visits to the prison. the prisoners had few comforts, beyond the occasional use of a bath at some distance, situated in the press yard, to which access was granted rarely and as a great favour. but they were allowed the luxury of drink--if they could pay for it. a recent reform had closed the tap kept by the gaoler within the precincts, but there was still a "convenient room" which served, and "near it a grating through which the debtors receive their beer from the neighbouring public-houses. the felons' side has a similar accommodation, and this mode of introducing the beverage is adopted because no publican as such can be permitted to enter the interior of this prison."[ ] the tap-room and bar were just behind the felons' entrance lodge, and beyond it was a room called the "wine room," because formerly used for the sale of wine, but in which latterly a copper had been fixed for the cooking of provisions sent in by charitable persons. "on the top of the gaol," continues neild, "are a watch-house and a sentry-box, where two or more guards, with dogs and firearms, watch all night. adjoining the felons' side lodge is the keeper's office, where the prison books are kept, and his clerk, called the clerk of the papers, attends daily."[ ] having thus briefly described the plan and appropriation of the prison, i propose to deal now with the general condition of the inmates, and the manner of their life. of these the debtors, male and female, formed a large proportion. the frequency and extent of processes against debtors seventy or eighty years ago will appear almost incredible in an age when insolvent acts and bankruptcy courts do so much to relieve the impecunious, and imprisonment for debt has almost entirely disappeared.[ ] but at the time of which i am writing the laws were relentless against all who failed to meet their engagements. the number of processes against debtors annually was extraordinary. neild gives, on the authority of mr. burchell, the under sheriff of middlesex, a table showing the figures for the year ending michaelmas . in that period upwards of , writs had been issued for the arrests of debtors in the kingdom, for sums varying from fourpence to £ and upwards. fifteen thousand of these were issued in middlesex alone, which at that time was reckoned as only a fifteenth of great britain. the number of arrests actually made was , for the kingdom, and for middlesex. barely half of these gave bail bonds on arrests, and the remainder went to prison. quite half of the foregoing writs and arrests applied to sums under £ . neild also says that in , writs and executions for debts between £ and £ were issued in middlesex, and the aggregate amount of debts sued for was £ , . he also makes the curious calculation that the costs of these actions if undefended would have amounted to £ , , and if defended, £ , ; in other words, that to recover eighty odd thousand pounds, three times the amount would be expended. an elaborate machinery planned for the protection of the trader, and altogether on his side, had long existed for the recovery of debts. alfred the great established the court baron, the hundred court, and the county court, which among other matters entertained pleas for debt. the county court was the sheriff's, who sat there surrounded by the bishop and the magnates of the county; but as time passed, difficulties and delays in obtaining judgment led to the removal of causes to the great court of king's bench, and the disuse of the inferior courts. so much inconvenience ensued, that in the corporation obtained from parliament an act empowering two aldermen and four common councilmen to hold courts of requests, or courts of conscience, to hear and determine all causes of debt under _s._ arising within the city. these courts were extended two centuries later to several large provincial towns, and all were in full activity when neild wrote, and indeed supplied the bulk of the poor debtors committed to prison. these courts were open to many and grave objections. the commissioners who presided were "little otherwise than self-elected,[ ] and when once appointed continued to serve _sine die_;"[ ] they were generally near in rank to the parties whose causes they decided. often a commissioner had to leave the bench because he was himself a party to the suit that was _sub judice_. the activity as well as the futility of these courts may be estimated from the statement given by neild, that debtors were committed by them to newgate between and , and that no more than creditors recovered debts and costs. the latter indeed hung like millstones round the neck of the unhappy insolvent wretches who found themselves in limbo. costs were the gallons of sack to the pennyworth of debt. neild found at his visit to newgate in , fourteen men and women who had lain there ten, eleven, and thirteen years for debts of a few shillings, weighted by treble the amount of costs. thus, amongst others, thomas blackburn had been committed on october th for a debt of _s._ _d._, for which the costs were _s._ _d._ thomas dobson, on nd august, , for _s._, with costs of _s._ _d._; and susannah evans, in october the same year, for _s._, with costs of _s._ _d._ other cases are recorded elsewhere, as at the giltspur street compter, where in mr. neild found a man named william grant detained for _s._ _d._, with costs of _s._, and john lancaster for _s._ _d._, with costs of _s._ _d._ "these surely, i thought," says mr. neild, "were bad enough! but it was not so." he recites another most outrageous and extraordinary case, in which one john bird, a market porter, was arrested and committed at the suit of a publican for the paltry sum of _d._, with costs of _s._ _d._ bird was, however, discharged within three days by a subscription raised among his fellow-prisoners. mr. buxton, in his 'inquiry into the system of prison discipline,' quotes a case which came within his own knowledge of a boy sent to prison for non-payment of one penny. the lad in question was found in coldbath fields prison, to which he had been sent for a month in default of paying a fine of forty shillings. he had been in the employ of a corn-chandler at islington, and went into london with his master's cart and horse. there was in the city road a temporary bar, with a collector of tolls who was sometimes on the spot and sometimes not. the boy declared he saw no one, and accordingly passed through without paying the toll of a penny. for this he was summoned before a magistrate, and sentenced as already stated. the lad was proved to be of good character and the son of respectable parents. mr. buxton's friends at once paid the forty shillings, and the boy was released. the costs in heavier debts always doubled the sum; if the arrest was made in the country it trebled it. neild gives a list of the various items charged upon a debt of £ , which included instructions to sue, affidavit of debt, drawing præcipe (£ _s._), capias, fee to officer on arrest, affidavit of service, and many more, amounting in all to twenty-seven, and costing £ _s._ _d._, within ten days.[ ] before dealing with the debtors in newgate, i may refer incidentally to those in other london prisons, for newgate was not the only place of durance for these unfortunate people. there were also the king's bench, the fleet, and the marshalsea prisons especially devoted to them, whilst ludgate, the giltspur street, and borough compters also received them--the latter two being also a prison for felons and vagrants arrested within certain limits. the king's bench was a national prison, in which were confined all debtors arrested for debt or for contempt of the court of the king's bench. the population generally amounted to from five hundred to seven hundred, the accommodation being calculated for two hundred. every new-comer was entitled to a "chummage" ticket, but did not always get it, being often obliged to pay a high rent for a bed at the coffee-house or in some room which was vacated by its regular occupant. no fixed rates or rules governed the hiring out of rooms or parts of a room, and all sorts of imposition was practised. the best, or at least the most influential prisoners, got lodging in the state house, which contained "eight large handsome rooms." besides those actually resident within the walls, another two hundred more or less took advantage of "the rules," and lived outside within a circumference of two miles and a half. in these cases security was given for the amount of the debt, and a heavy fee at the rate of £ per £ , with £ for every additional hundred. besides these, a number had the privilege of a "run on the key," which allowed a prisoner to go into the rules for the day. the foregoing rentals and payments for privileges, together with fees exacted on commitment and discharge, went to the marshal or keeper of the prison, whose net annual income thus entirely derived from the impecunious amounted to between three and four thousand pounds. the office of marshal had been hereditary, but in the th geo. ii. the right of presentation was bought by the crown for £ , . the marshal was supposed to be resident either within the prison or the rules. he seems to have felt no responsibility as to the welfare or comfort of those in charge, and out of whom he made all his money. the prison was always in "the most filthy state imaginable."[ ] the half or wholly starved prisoners fished for alms or food at the gratings. when they were sick no more notice was taken of them than of a dog. a man dying of liver complaint lay on the cold stones without a bed or food to eat. dissolute habits prevailed on all sides; drunkenness was universal, gambling perpetual. the yards were taken up with rackets and five courts, and here and there were "bumble puppy grounds," a game in which the players rolled iron balls into holes marked with numbers. how to make most profit out of the wretched denizens of the gaol was the marshal's only care. he got a rent for the coffee-house and the bake-house; the keeper of the large tap-room called the brace, because it was once kept by two brothers named partridge, also paid him toll. the sale of spirits was forbidden, but gin could always be had at the whistling shops, where it was known as moonshine, sky blue, mexico, and was consumed at the rate of a hogshead per week. the fleet, which stood in farringdon street, was a prison for debtors and persons committed for contempt by the courts of chancery, exchequer, and common pleas. it was so used for the date of the abolition of the star chamber in the th charles i. the shameful malpractices of bambridge, the warden of the fleet at the commencement of the eighteenth century, are too well known to need more than a passing reference. a committee of the house of commons investigated the charges against bambridge, who was proved to have connived at the escape of some debtors, and to have been guilty of extortion to others. one sir william rich, bart., he had loaded with heavy irons. in consequence of these disclosures, both bambridge and huggin, his predecessor in the office, were committed to newgate, and many reforms instituted. but the condition of the prison and its inmates remained unsatisfactory to the last. it contained generally from six to seven hundred inmates,[ ] while another hundred more or less resided in the rules outside. the principle of "chummage" prevailed as in the king's bench, but a number of rooms, fifteen more or less, were reserved for poor debtors under the name of bartholomew fair. the rentals of rooms and fees went to the warden, whose income was £ . the same evils of overcrowding, uncleanliness, want of medical attendance, absence or neglect of divine service, were present as in the king's bench, but in an exaggerated form. the committee on gaols[ ] reported that "although the house of the warden looked into the court, and the turnkeys slept in the prison, yet scenes of riot, drunkenness, and disorder were most prevalent." the state of morals was disgraceful. any woman obtained admission if sober, and if she got drunk she was not turned out. there was no distinct place for the female debtors, who lived in the same galleries as the men. disturbances were frequent, owing to the riotous conduct of intoxicated women. twice a week there was a wine and beer club held at night, which lasted till two or three in the morning. in the yard behind the prison were places set apart for skittles, fives, and tennis, which strangers frequented as any other place of public amusement. matters were rather better at the marshalsea. this very ancient prison, which stood in the high street, southwark, was used for debtors arrested for the lowest sums within twelve miles of the palace of whitehall; also for prisoners committed by the admiralty court. at one time the marshalsea was the receptacle of pirates, but none were committed to it after . the court of the marshalsea was instituted by charles i. in the sixth year of his reign, to be held before the steward of the royal household, the knight marshal, and the steward of the court, with jurisdiction to hold pleas in all actions within the prescribed limits. the court was chiefly used for the recovery of small debts under £ , but its business was much reduced by the extension of the courts of conscience. the prison was a nest of abuses, like its neighbour the king's bench, and came under the strong animadversion of the gaol committee of . as the business of the marshalsea court declined, the numbers in its prison diminished. the population, as reported by the committee in , averaged about sixty, and the prison, although wives and children resided within the walls, was not overcrowded. their conduct too was orderly on the whole. drunkenness was not common, chiefly because liquor was not to be had freely, although the tapster paid a rent of two guineas a week for permission to sell it. the inmates, who euphemistically styled themselves "collegians," were governed by rules which they themselves had framed, and under which subscriptions were levied and fines imposed for conduct disapproved of by the "college." a court of the collegians was held every monday to manage its affairs, at which all prisoners were required to attend. a committee of collegians was elected to act as the executive, also a secretary or accountant to receive monies and keep books, and a master of the ale-room, who kept this the scene of their revels clean, and saw that boiling water was provided for grog. bad language, quarrelling, throwing water over one another was forbidden on pain of fine and being sent to coventry; but the prevailing moral tone may be guessed from the penalty inflicted upon persons singing obscene songs _before_ nine p.m. yet the public opinion of the whole body seems to have checked dissipation. the poorer prisoners were not in abject want, as in other prisons, owing to many charitable gifts and bequests, which included annual donations from the archbishop of canterbury, the lord steward of the household, the steward and officers of the marshalsea court, and others. legacies had also been left to free a certain number of debtors, notably that of £ per annum left by a mr. henry allnutt, who was long a prisoner in the marshalsea, and came into a fortune while there. his bequest, which was charged upon his manor at goring, oxon, and hence called the oxford charity, was applied only to the release of poor debtors whom £ each could free. the supreme control of the marshalsea was vested in the marshal of the royal household; but although he drew a salary of £ a year, he did nothing beyond visiting the prison occasionally, and left the administration to the deputy marshal. the latter's salary, with fees, the rent of the tap and of the chandler's shop, amounted to about £ a year. the compters of ludgate, giltspur street, and the borough were discontinued as debtors' prisons (as was newgate also) on the opening of whitecross prison for debtors in . ludgate to the last was the debtors' prison for freemen of the city of london, clergymen, proctors, attorneys, and persons specially selected by the corporation. at one time the ludgate debtors, accompanied by the keeper, went outside and beyond the prison to call on their creditors, and try to arrange their debts, but this practice was discontinued. there were fifteen rooms of various sizes, and as the numbers imprisoned rarely exceeded five-and-twenty, the place was never overcrowded, while the funds of several bequests and charities were applied in adding to the material comfort of the prisoners. the giltspur street compter received sheriffs' debtors, also felons, vagrants, and night charges. it was generally crowded, as debtors who would have gone to the poultry compter were sent to giltspur street when the former was condemned as unfit to receive prisoners.[ ] the demands for fees were excessive in giltspur street. those who could not pay were thrown into the wards with the night charges, and denied admission to the "charity wards," which partook of all the benefits of bequests and donations to poor debtors. the borough compter was in a disgraceful state to the last. the men's ward had an earth, or rather a mud, floor, and was so unfit to sleep on that it had not been used for many years, so that the men and women associated together indiscriminately. the rooms had no fireplaces, so it mattered little that no coals were allowed. there were no beds or bedding, no straw even. in one room mr. neild found a woman ill of a flux shut up with three men; the latter raised eighteenpence among them to pay for a truss of straw for the poor woman to lie on. neild found the prisoners in the borough compter ragged, starving, and dirty. i come now to the debtors in newgate. the quarters they occupied were divided, as i have said,[ ] into three principal divisions--the master's side, the cabin side, and the common side. payment of a fee of _s._ gained the debtor admission to the two first named; those who could pay nothing went, as a matter of course, to the common side; a further fee was, however, demanded from the new-comer before he was made free of either the master's or the cabin side. this was the reprehensible claim for "garnish," which had already been abolished in all well-conducted prisons, but which still was demanded in newgate. garnish on the cabin side was a guinea at entrance for coals, candles, brooms, &c., and a gallon of beer on discharge; on the master's side it was thirteen and fourpence, and a gallon of beer on entrance, although mr. newman, in his evidence in , said it was more, and gave the garnish for the common side at that sum, which is five shillings more than mr. neild says was extorted on the common side. numerous tyrannies were practised on all who would not and could not pay the garnish. they were made to wash and swab the ward, or they were shut out from the ward fireplace, and forbidden to pass a chalked line drawn on the floor, and so were unable either to warm themselves or to cook their food. besides these fees, legitimate and illegitimate, there were others which must be paid before release. the sheriff demanded _s._ _d._ for his liberate, the gaoler _s._ _d._ more, and the turnkey _s._; and thus when the debtor's debt had been actually paid, or when he had abandoned his property to the creditors, and, almost destitute, looked forward to his liberty, he was still delayed until he had paid a new debt arising "only out of a satisfaction of all his former debts." the fees were not always extorted, it is true; nor was non-payment made a pretext for further imprisonment, thanks to the humanity of the gaoler, or the funds provided by various charities. there was this much honest forbearance in newgate in these days, that debtors who could afford the cabin and master's side were not permitted to share in the prison charities. these were lumped together into a general fund, and a calculation made as to the amount that might be expended per week from the whole sum, so that the latter might last out the year. it generally ran to about six pounds per week. the money, which at one time had been distributed quarterly, and all went in drink, was after , through the exertions of the keeper[ ] of the gaol, spent in the purchase of necessaries. but this weekly pittance did not go far when the debtors' side was crowded, as it often was; notably as when numbers filled newgate in anticipation of lord redesdale's bill for insolvent debtors, and there were as many as three hundred and fifty prisoners in at one time. the city also allowed the poor debtors fourteen ounces of bread daily, and their share of eight stone of meat, an allowance which never varied, issued once a week, and divided as far as it would go--a very precarious and uncertain ration. the bread was issued every alternate day; and while some prisoners often ate their whole allowance at once, others who arrived just after the time of distribution were often forty-eight hours without food. the latter might also be six days without meat. share in the weekly allowance of meat might also be denied to debtors who had not paid "garnish," as well as in the weekly grant from the charitable fund. hence starvation stared many in the face,[ ] unless friends from outside came to their assistance, or the keeper made them a special grant of _d._ per diem out of the common stock; or the sixpenny allowance was claimed for the creditors, which seldom happened, owing to the expense the process entailed. the poor debtors were not supplied with beds. those who could pay the price might hire them from each other, or from persons who made a trade of it, or they might bring their beds with them into the prison. failing any of these methods, seeing that straw was forbidden for fear of fire, they had to be satisfied with a couple of the rugs provided by the city, the supply of which was, however, limited, and there were not always enough to give bedding to all. the stock was diminished by theft; female visitors carried them out of the prisons, or the debtors destroyed them when the weather was warm, and they were not in great demand, in order to convert them into mop-heads or cleaning-rags. sometimes rugs were urgently required and not forthcoming; a severe winter set in, the new stock had not been supplied by the contractors, and the poor debtors perished of cold. again, there was no regular allowance of fuel. coals were purchased out of the garnish money and the charitable fund; so were candles, salt, pepper, mops and brooms. but the latter could have been of little service. dirt prevailed everywhere; indeed the place, with its oak floors caulked with pitch, and smoked ceilings, could not be made even to look clean while there was no obligation of personal cleanliness on individuals, who often came into the prison in filthy rags. only now and again, in extreme cases, an unusually nasty companion was stripped, haled to the pump, and left under it in a state of nature until he was washed clean. the squalor and uncleanness of the debtors' side was intensified by constant overcrowding. prisoners were committed to it quite without reference to its capacity. no remonstrance was attended to, no steps taken to reduce the number of committals, and the governor was obliged to utilize the chapel as a day and night room. besides this, although the families of debtors were no longer permitted to live with them inside the gaol, hundreds of women and children came in every morning to spend the day there, and there was no limitation whatever to the numbers of visitors admitted to the debtors' side. friends arrived about nine a.m., and went out at nine p.m., when as many as two hundred visitors have been observed leaving the debtors' yards at one time. the day passed in revelry and drunkenness. although spirituous liquors were forbidden, wine and beer might be had in any quantity, the only limitation being that not more than one bottle of wine or one quart of beer could be issued at one time. no account was taken of the amount of liquors admitted in one day, and debtors might practically have as much as they liked, if they could only pay for it. no attempt was made to check drunkenness, beyond the penalty of shutting out friends from any ward in which a prisoner exceeded. quarrelling among the debtors was not unfrequent. blows were struck, and fights often ensued. for this and other acts of misconduct there was the discipline of the refractory ward, or "strong room" on the debtors' side. bad cases were removed to a cell on the felons' side, and here they were locked in solitary confinement for three days at a time. order throughout the debtors' side was preserved and discipline maintained by a system open to grave abuses, and which had the prescription of long usage, and which was never wholly rooted out for many years to come. this was the pernicious plan of governing by prisoners, or of setting a favoured few in authority over the many. the head of the debtors' prison was a prisoner called the steward, who was chosen by the whole body from six whom the keeper nominated. this steward was practically supreme. all the allowances of food passed through his hands; he had the control of the poor-box for chance charities, he collected the garnish money, and distributed the weekly grant from the prison charitable fund. in the latter duties he was, however, supervised by three auditors, freely chosen by the prisoners among themselves. the auditors were paid a shilling each for their services each time the poor-box was opened. the steward was also remunerated for his trouble. he had a double allowance of bread, deducted, of course, from the already too limited portion of the rest, and no doubt made the meat also pay toll. under the steward there were captains of wards, chosen in the same way, and performing analogous duties. these subordinate chiefs were also rewarded out of the scanty prison rations. the same system was extended to the criminal side, and cases were on record of the place of wardsman being sold for considerable sums. so valuable were they deemed, that as much as fifty guineas was offered to the keeper for the post. enough has been said, probably, to prove that there was room for improvement in the condition and treatment of debtors in the prisons of the city of london. this gradually was forced upon the consciousness of the corporation, and about application was made to parliament for funds to build a new debtors' prison. authority was given to raise money on the orphans' fund to the extent of £ , . a site was purchased between red lion and white cross streets, and a new prison planned, which would accommodate the inmates of newgate and of the three compters, ludgate, giltspur street, and the poultry, or about four hundred and seventy-six in all. the evils of association for these debtors were perpetuated, although the plan provided for the separation of the various contingents committed to it. there was no lack of air and light for the new gaol, and several exercising yards. the completion of this very necessary building was, however, much delayed for want of funds, and it was not ready to relieve newgate till late in . the reforms which were to be attempted in that prison, more particularly as regarded the classification of prisoners, and which were dependent on the space to be gained by the removal of the debtors, could not be carried out till then. it is to be feared that long after the opening of white cross street prison, newgate continued to be a reproach to those responsible for its management. i pass now to the criminal side of newgate, which consisted of the six quarters or yards already enumerated and described.[ ] the inmates of this part, as distinguished from the debtors, were comprised in four classes:--( ) those awaiting trial; ( ) persons under sentence of imprisonment for a fixed period, or until they shall have paid certain fines; ( ) transports awaiting removal to the colonies, and ( ) capital convicts, condemned to death and awaiting execution. at one time the whole of these different categories were thrown together pell-mell, young and old, the untried with the convicted. an imperfect attempt at classification was, however, made in , and a yard was as far as possible set apart for the untried, or class ( ), with whom, under the imperious demand for accommodation, were also associated the misdemeanants, or class ( ). this was the chapel yard, with its five wards, which were calculated to hold seventy prisoners, but often held many more. a further sub-classification was attempted by separating at night those charged with misdemeanours from those charged with felony, but all mingled freely during the day in the yard. the sleeping accommodation in the chapel-yard wards, and indeed throughout the prison, consisted of a barrack bed, which was a wooden flooring on a slightly inclined plane, with a beam running across the top to serve as a pillow. no beds were issued, only two rugs per prisoner. when each sleeper had the full lateral space allotted to him, it amounted to one foot and a half on the barrack bed; but when the ward was obliged to accommodate double the ordinary number, as was frequently the case, the sleepers covered the entire floor, with the exception of a passage in the middle. all the misdemeanants, whatever their offence, were lodged in this chapel ward. as many various and, according to our ideas, heinous crimes came under this head, in the then existing state of the law, the man guilty of a common assault found himself side by side with the fraudulent, or others who had attempted abominable crimes. in this heterogeneous society were also thrown the unfortunate journalists to whom i have already referred,[ ] and on whom imprisonment in newgate was frequently adjudged for so-called libels, or too out-spoken comments in print. it was particularly recommended by the committee on gaols in that some other and less mixed prison should be used for the confinement of persons convicted of libels. but this suggestion was ignored. indeed the partial classification attempted seems to have been abandoned within a year or two. the hon. h. g. bennet, who visited newgate in , saw in one yard, in a total of seventy-two prisoners, thirty-five tried and thirty-seven untried. of the former, three were transports for life, four for fourteen years, and three of them persons sentenced to fines or short imprisonment--one for little more than a month. two of the untried were for murder, and several for house-breaking and highway robbery. nor were the misdemeanants and bail prisoners any longer separated from those whose crimes were of a more serious character. mr. bennet refers to a gentleman confined for want of bail, who occupied a room with five others--two committed by the bankruptcy commissioner, one for perjury, and two transports. persons convicted of publishing libels were still immured in the same rooms with transports and felons. the middle yard, as far as its limits would permit, was appropriated to felons and transports. the wards here were generally very crowded. each ward was calculated to hold twenty-four, allowing each individual one foot and a half; "a common-sized man," says the keeper, mr. newman, "can turn in nineteen inches."[ ] these twenty-four could just sleep on the barrack bed; when the number was higher, and it often rose to forty, the surplus had to sleep on the floor. the crowding was in consequence of the delay in removing transports. these often remained in newgate for six months, sometimes a year, in some cases longer; in one, for seven years--that of a man sentenced to death, for whom great interest had been made, but whom it was not thought right to pardon. occasionally the transports made themselves so useful in the gaol that they were passed over. mr. newman admitted that he had petitioned that certain "trusty men" might be left in the gaol. constantly associated with these convicted felons were numbers of juveniles, infants of tender years. there were frequently in the middle yard seven or eight children, the youngest barely nine, the oldest only twelve or thirteen, exposed to all the contaminating influences of the place. mr. bennet mentions also the case of young men of better stamp, clerks in city offices, and youths of good parentage, "in this dreadful situation," who had been rescued from the hulks through the kindness and attention of the secretary of state. "yet they had been long enough," he goes on to say, "in the prison associated with the lowest and vilest criminals, with convicts of all ages and characters, to render it next to impossible but that, with the obliteration of all sense of self-respect, the inevitable consequence of such a situation, their morals must have been destroyed; and though distress or the seduction of others might have led to the commission of this their first offence, yet the society they were driven to live in, the language they daily heard, and the lessons they were taught in this academy, must have had a tendency to turn them into the world hardened and accomplished in the ways of vice and crime." mr. buxton, in the work already quoted, instances another grievous case of the horrors of indiscriminate association in newgate. it was that of a person "who practised in the law, and who was connected by marriage with some very respectable families. having been committed to clerkenwell, he was sent on to newgate in a coach, handcuffed to a noted house-breaker, who was afterwards cast for death. the first night in newgate, and for the subsequent fortnight, he slept in the same bed with a highwayman on one side, and a man charged with murder on the other. spirits were freely introduced, and although he at first abstained, he found he must adopt the manners of his companions, or that his life would be in danger. they viewed him with some suspicion, as one of whom they knew nothing. he was in consequence put out of the protection of their internal law." their code was a subject of some curiosity. when any prisoner committed an offence against the community or against an individual, he was tried by a court in the gaol. a prisoner, generally the oldest and most dexterous thief, was appointed judge, and a towel tied in knots was hung on each side in imitation of a wig. the judge sat in proper form; he was punctiliously styled "my lord." a jury having been selected and duly sworn, the culprit was then arraigned. justice, however, was not administered with absolute integrity. a bribe to the judge was certain to secure acquittal, and the neglect of the formality was as certainly followed by condemnation. various punishments were inflicted, the heaviest of which was standing in the pillory. this was carried out by putting the criminal's head through the legs of a chair, and stretching out his arms and tying them to the legs. the culprit was then compelled to carry the chair about with him. but all punishments might readily be commuted into a fine to be spent in gin for judge and jury. the prisoner mentioned above was continually persecuted by trials of this kind. the most trifling acts were magnified into offences. he was charged with moving something which should not be touched, with leaving a door open, or coughing maliciously to the disturbance of his companions. the evidence was invariably sufficient to convict, and the judge never hesitated to inflict the heaviest penalties. the unfortunate man was compelled at length to adopt the habits of his associates; "by insensible degrees he began to lose his repugnance to their society, caught their flash terms and sung their songs, was admitted to their revels, and acquired, in place of habits of perfect sobriety, a taste for spirits." his wife visited him in newgate, and wrote a pitiable account of the state in which she found her husband. he was an inmate of the same ward with others of the most dreadful sort, "whose language and manners, whose female associates of the most abandoned description, and the scenes consequent with such lost wretches, prevented me from going inside but seldom, and i used to communicate with him through the bars from the passage." one day he was too ill to come down and meet her. she went up to the ward and found him lying down, "pale as death, very ill, and in a dreadfully dirty state, the wretches making game of him, and enjoying my distress; and i learned he had been up with the others the whole night. though they could not force him to gamble, he was compelled to drink, and i was obliged afterwards to let him have five shillings to pay his share, otherwise he would have been stripped of his clothes." felons who could pay the price were permitted, irrespective of their character or offences, to purchase the greater ease and comfort of the master's side. the entrance fee was at least _s._ _d._ a head, with half-a-crown a week more for bed and bedding, the wards being furnished with barrack bedsteads, upon which each prisoner had the regulation allowance of sleeping room, or about a foot and a half laterally. these fees were in reality a substantial contribution towards the expenses of the gaol; without them the keeper declared that he could not pay the salaries of turnkeys and servants, nor keep the prison going at all. besides the gaol fees, there was garnish of half-a-guinea, collected by the steward, and spent in providing coals, candles, plates, knives, and forks; while all the occupants of this part of the prison supported themselves; they had the ration of prison bread only, but they had no share in the prison meat or other charities, and they or their friends found them in food. all who could scrape together the cash seem to have gladly availed themselves of the privilege of entering the master's side. it was the only way to escape the horrors, the distress, penury, and rags of the common yards. idleness was not so universally the rule in this part of the gaol. artizans and others were at liberty to work at their trades, provided they were not dangerous. tailoring and shoemaking was permitted, but it was deemed unsafe to allow a carpenter or blacksmith to have his tools. all the money earned by prisoners was at their own disposal, and was spent almost habitually in drink, chambering, and wantonness. the best accommodation the gaol could offer was reserved for the prisoners on the state side, from whom still higher fees were exacted, with the same discreditable idea of swelling the revenues of the prison. to constitute this the aristocratic quarter, unwarrantable demands were made upon the space properly allotted to the female felons,[ ] and no lodger was rejected, whatever his status, who offered himself and could bring grist to the mill. the luxury of the state side was for a long time open to all who could pay--the convicted felon, the transport awaiting removal, the lunatic whose case was still undecided,[ ] the misdemeanant tried or untried, the debtor who wished to avoid the discomfort of the crowded debtors' side, the outspoken newspaper editor, or the daring reporter of parliamentary debates. the better class of inmate complained bitterly of this enforced companionship with the vile, association at one time forbidden by custom, but which greed and rapacity long made the rule. the fee for admission to the state side, as fixed by the table of fees, was three guineas, but mr. newman declared that he never took more than two. ten and sixpence a week more was charged as rent for a single bed; where two or more slept in a bed the rent was seven shillings a week each. prisoners who could afford it sometimes paid for four beds, at the rate of twenty-eight shillings, and so secured the luxury of a private room. a mr. lundy, charged with forgery, was thus accommodated on the state side for upwards of five years. but the keeper protested that no single prisoner could thus monopolize space if the state side was crowded. the keeper went still further in his efforts to make money. he continued the ancient practice of letting out a portion of his own house, and by a poetical fiction treated it as an annexe of the state side. mr. davison, sent to newgate for embezzlement, and whose case is given in the preceding chapter, was accommodated with a room in mr. newman's house at the extravagant rental of thirty guineas per week; mr. cobbett was also a lodger of mr. newman's; and so were any members of the aristocracy, if they happened to be in funds--among whom was the marquis of sligo in . the female felons' wards i shall describe at length in the next chapter, which will deal with mrs. fry's philanthropic exertions at this period in this particular part of the prison. these wards were always full to overflowing; sometimes double the number the rooms could accommodate were crowded into them. there was a master's side for females who could pay the usual fees, but they associated with the rest in the one narrow yard common to all. the tried and the untried, young and old, were herded together; sometimes girls of thirteen, twelve, even ten or nine years of age, were exposed to "all the contagion and profligacy which prevailed in this part of the prison." there was no separation even for the women under sentence of death, who lived in a common and perpetually crowded ward. only when the order of execution came down were those about to suffer placed apart in one of the rooms in the arcade of the middle ward. i have kept till the last that part of the prison which was usually the last resting-place of so many. the old press yard has been fully described in a previous chapter.[ ] the name still survived in the new press yard, which was the receptacle of the male condemned prisoners. it was generally crowded, like the rest of the prison. except in murder cases, where the execution was generally very promptly performed, strange and inconceivable delay occurred in carrying out the extreme sentence. hence there was a terrible accumulation of prisoners in the condemned cells. once, during the long illness of george iii., as many as one hundred were there waiting the "report," as it was called. at another time there were fifty, one of whom had been under sentence a couple of years. mr. bennet speaks of thirty-eight capital convicts he found in the press yard in february , five of whom had been condemned the previous july, four in september, and twenty-nine in october. this procrastination bred certain callousness. few realizing that the dreadful fate would overtake them, dismissed the prospect of death, and until the day was actually fixed, spent the time in roystering, swearing, gambling, or playing at ball. visitors were permitted access to them without stint; unlimited drink was not denied them provided it was obtained in regulated quantities at one time. these capital convicts, says mr. bennet, "lessened the ennui and despair of their situation by unbecoming merriment, or sought relief in the constant application of intoxicating stimulants. i saw cashman[ ] a few hours before his execution, smoking and drinking with the utmost unconcern and indifference." those who were thus reckless reacted upon the penitent who knew their days were numbered, and their gibes and jollity counteracted the ordinary's counsels or the independent preacher's earnest prayers. for while roman catholics and dissenters were encouraged to see ministers of their own persuasion, a number of amateurs were ever ready to give their gratuitous ministrations to the condemned. the prisoners in the press yard had free access during the day to the yard and large day room; at night they were placed in the fifteen cells, two, three, or more together, according to the total number to be accommodated. they were never left quite alone for fear of suicide, and for the same reason they were searched for weapons or poisons. but they nevertheless frequently managed to secrete the means of making away with themselves, and accomplished their purpose. convicted murderers were kept continuously in the cells on bread and water, in couples, from the time of sentence to that of execution, which was about three or four days generally, from friday to monday, so as to include one sunday, on which day there was a special service for the condemned in the prison chapel. this latter was an ordeal which all dreaded, and many avoided by denying their faith. the condemned occupied an open pew in the centre of the chapel, hung with black; in front of them, upon a table, was a black coffin in full view. the chapel was filled with a curious but callous congregation, who came to stare at the miserable people thus publicly exposed. well might mr. bennet write that the condition of the condemned side was the most prominent of the manifold evils in the present system of newgate, "so discreditable to the metropolis." yet it must have been abundantly plain to the reader that the other evils existing were great and glaring. a brief summary of them will best prove this. the gaol was neither suitable nor sufficiently large. it was not even kept weather-tight. the roof of the female prison, says the grand jury in their presentment in , let in the rain. supplies of common necessaries, such as have now been part of the furniture of every british gaol for many years, were meagre or altogether absent. the rations of food were notoriously inadequate, and so carelessly distributed, that many were left to starve. so unjust and unequal was the system, that the allowance to convicted criminals was better than that of the innocent debtor, and the general insufficiency was such that it multiplied beyond all reason the number of visitors, many of whom came merely as the purveyors of food to their friends. the prison allowances were eked out by the broken victuals generously given by several eating-house keepers in the city, such as messrs. birch of cornhill and messrs. leach and dollimore of ludgate hill. these were fetched away in a large tub on a truck by a turnkey. amongst the heap was often the meat that had made turtle soup, which, when heated and stirred together in a saucepan, was said to be very good eating. the bedding was scanty; fuel and light had to be purchased out of prisoners' private means; clothing was issued but rarely, even to prisoners almost in nakedness, and as a special charitable gift. extortion was practised right and left. garnish continued to be demanded long after it had disappeared in other and better-regulated prisons. the fees on reception and discharge must be deemed exorbitant, when it is remembered the impoverished class who usually crowded the gaol; and they were exacted to relieve a rich corporation from paying for the maintenance of their own prison. this imposition of fees left prisoners destitute on their discharge, without funds to support them in their first struggle to recommence life, with ruined character, bad habits, and often bad health contracted in the gaol. a further and a more iniquitous method of extorting money was still practised, that of loading newly-arrived prisoners until they paid certain fees. ironing was still the rule, not only for the convicted, but for those charged with felonies; only the misdemeanants escaped. at the commencement of every sessions, such of the untried as had purchased "easement" of irons were called up and re-fettered, preparatory to their appearance in the old bailey. irons were seldom removed from the convicted until discharge; sometimes the wearer was declared medically unfit, or he obtained release by long good conduct, or the faithful discharge of some petty office, such as gatesman or captain of a ward. the irons weighed from three to four pounds, but heavier irons, seven or eight pounds' weight, were imposed in case of misconduct; and when there had been an attempt at escape, the culprit was chained down to the floor by running a chain through his irons which prevented him from climbing to the window of his cell. among other excuses offered for thus manacling all almost without exception, was that it was the best and safest method of distinguishing a prisoner from a stranger and temporary visitor. clothes or prison uniform would not have served the purpose, for a disguise can be rapidly and secretly put on, whereas irons cannot well be exchanged without loss of time and attracting much attention.[ ] the unchecked admission of crowds of visitors to the felons' as well as the debtors' side was another unmixed evil. by this means spirits, otherwise unattainable and strictly prohibited, were smuggled into the gaol. searches[ ] were made certainly, but they were too often superficial, or they might be evaded by a trifling bribe. hence the frequent cases of drunkenness, of which no notice was taken, unless people grew riotous in their cups, and attracted attention by their disorderly behaviour. another frightful consequence of this indiscriminate admission was the influx of numbers of abandoned women, only a few of whom had the commendable prudery to pass themselves off as the wives of prisoners. any reputed, and indeed any real, wife might spend the night in newgate if she would pay the shilling fee, commonly known as the "bad money," a base payment which might have done something towards increasing the prison receipts, had it not been appropriated by the turnkey who winked at this evasion of the rules. among the daily visitors were members of the criminal classes still at large, the thieves and burglars who carried on the active business of their profession, from which their confederates were temporarily debarred. one notorious character, while a prisoner awaiting transfer to the hulks, kept open house, so to speak, and entertained daily within the walls a select party of the most noted thieves in london. this delectable society enticed into their set a clerk who had been imprisoned for fraud, and offered him half the booty if he would give full information as to the transactions and correspondence of his late employers. owing to the facility of intercourse between inside and outside, many crimes were doubtless hatched in newgate. some of the worst and most extensive burglaries were planned there. forged notes had been fabricated, false money coined, and both passed out in quantities to be circulated through the country. "i believe," says mr. bennet in the letter already largely quoted, "that there is no place in the metropolis where more crimes are projected or where stolen property is more secreted than in newgate." these malpractices were fostered by the absence of all supervision and the generally unbroken idleness. although attempted partially at bridewell, and more systematically at the new millbank penitentiary, but just open ( ), the regular employment of prisoners had never yet been accepted as a principle in the metropolitan prisons. insuperable difficulties were still supposed to stand in the way of any general employment of prisoners at their trades. there was fear as to the unrestricted use of tools, limits of space, the interference of the ill-disposed, who would neither work nor let others do so, and the danger of losing material, raw or manufactured. many years were to elapse before these objections should be fairly met and universally overcome. it was not strange, therefore, that the inmates of newgate should turn their unoccupied brains and idle hands to all manner of mischief; that when they were not carousing, plotting, or scheming, they should gamble with dice or cards, and play at bumble puppy or some other disreputable game of chance. the report of the committee of the house of commons painted so black a picture of newgate as then conducted, that the corporation were roused in very shame to undertake some kind of reform. the above-mentioned report was ordered to be printed upon the th may. upon the th july the same year, the court of aldermen appointed a committee of its own body, assisted by the town clerk, mr. dance, city surveyor, son to the architect of newgate, and mr. addison, keeper of newgate, to make a visitation of the gaols supposed to be the best managed, including those of petworth and gloucester.[ ] this committee was to compare allowances, examine rules, and certify as to the condition of prisoners; also to make such proposals as might appear salutary, and calculated to improve newgate and the rest of the city gaols. this committee made its report in september the following year, and an excellent report it is, so far as its recommendations are concerned. the committee seems to have fully realized, even at this early date ( ), many of the indispensable conditions of a model prison according to modern ideas. it admitted the paramount necessity for giving every prisoner a sleeping cell to himself, an amount of enlightenment which is hardly general among european nations at this the latter end of the nineteenth century,[ ] several of which still fall far short of our english ideal, that all prisoners should always be in separate cells by night, and those of short sentences by day. it recommended day cells or rooms for regular labour, which should be compulsory upon all transports and prisoners sentenced to hard labour, the work being constant and suitable, with certain hours of relaxation and for food and exercise. the personal cleanliness of all prisoners was to be insisted upon; they should be made to wash at least once a day, with the penalty of forfeiting the day's allowance of food, an increase of which the committee had recommended. the provision of more baths was also suggested, and the daily sweeping out of the prison. the clothes of prisoners arriving dirty, or in rags, should be fumigated before worn in the gaol, but as yet no suggestion was made to provide prison uniform. a laundry should be established, and a matron appointed on the female side, where all the prisoners' washing could be performed. proper hours for locking and unlocking prisoners should be insisted upon; a bell should give notice thereof, and of meal-hours, working-hours, or of escapes. the committee took upon itself to lay down stringent rules for the discipline of the prison. the gaoler should be required to visit every part and see every prisoner daily; the chaplain should perform service, visit the sick, instruct the prisoners, "give spiritual advice and administer religious consolation" to all who might need them;[ ] the surgeon should see all prisoners, whether ill or well, once a week, and take general charge of the infirmaries. all three, governor, chaplain, and surgeon, should keep journals, which should be inspected periodically by the visiting magistrates. it should be peremptorily forbidden to the keeper or any officer to make a pecuniary profit out of the supplies of food, fuel, or other necessaries. no prisoner should be allowed to obtain superior accommodation on the payment of any fees. fees indeed should be generally abolished, garnish also. no prisoners should in future be ironed, except in cases of misconduct, provided only that their security was not jeopardized, and dependent upon the enforcement of another new rule, which recommended restrictions upon the number of visitors admitted. no wine or beer should be in future admitted into or sold in the gaol, except for the use of the debtors, or as medical comforts for the infirmary. drunkenness, if it ever occurred, should be visited with severe punishment; gaming of all sorts should be peremptorily forbidden under heavy pains and penalties. the feelings of the condemned prisoners should no longer be outraged by their exposure in the chapel, and the chapel should be rearranged, so that the various classes might be seated separately, and so as not to see each other. it will hardly be denied that these proposals went to the root of the matter. had they been accepted in their entirety, little fault could in future have been found with the managers of newgate. in common justice to them, it must be admitted that immediate effect was given to all that could be easily carried out. the state side ceased to exist, and the female prisoners thus regained the space of which their quadrangle had been robbed. the privileges of the master's side also disappeared; fees were nominally abolished, and garnish was scotched, although not yet killed outright. a certain number of bedsteads were provided, and there was a slight increase in the ration of bread. but here the recommendations touched at once upon the delicate subject of expense, and it is clear that the committee hesitated on this score. it made this too the excuse for begging the most important issue of the whole question. the committee did not deny the superior advantages offered by such prisons as gloucester and petworth, but it at once deprecated the idea that the city could follow the laudable example thus set in the provinces. "were a metropolitan prison erected on the same lines, with all the space not only for air and exercise, but for day rooms and sleeping cells," it would cover some thirty acres, and cost a great deal more than the city, with the example of whitecross street prison before it, could possibly afford. the committee does not seem to have yet understood that newgate could be only and properly replaced by a new gaol built on the outskirts, as holloway eventually was,[ ] and permitted itself to be altogether countered and checked in its efforts towards reform by the prohibitory costliness of the land about newgate. with the seeming impossibility of extending the limits of the prison as it then stood, all chances of classification and separation vanished, and the greatest evils remained untouched. all the committee could do in this respect was to throw the responsibility on others. it pointed out that the government was to blame for the overcrowding, and might diminish it if it chose. it was very desirable that there should be a more speedy removal of transports from newgate to the ships. again, there was the new millbank penitentiary now ready for occupation. why not relieve newgate by drawing more largely upon the superior accommodation which millbank offered? chapter iii. philanthropy in newgate. absence of religious and moral instruction in newgate a hundred years ago--chaplains not always zealous--unprofessional amateur enthusiasts minister to the prisoners--christian knowledge society--silas told, his life and work--wesley leads him to prison visitation--goes to newgate regularly--chaplain opposes his visits--attends the condemned to the gallows--attends mary edmondson--the gentlemen highwaymen--mrs. brownrigg--alexander cruden of the 'concordance' also visits newgate--more precise account of a neglectful chaplain--dr. forde--his hatred of amateur preachers--in his element in the chair of a 'free-and-easy'--private philanthropy active--various societies formed--prison schools--the female side the most disgraceful part of the prison--mrs. fry's first visit--her second visit--awful description of interior of gaol--ill-treatment of female prisoners--their irons--where mrs. fry commenced--the school--the matron--work obtained--rules framed--rapid improvement of newgate--female prison reformed--publicity follows--newgate becomes a show. among the many drawbacks from which the inmates of newgate suffered through the eighteenth and the early part of the nineteenth century, was the absence of proper religious and moral instruction. the value of the ministrations of the ordinary, who was the official ghostly adviser, entirely depended upon his personal qualities. now and again he was an earnest and devoted man, to whom the prisoners might fully open their hearts. more often he was careless and indifferent, satisfied to earn his salary by the slightest and most perfunctory discharge of his sacred duties. there were ordinaries whose fame rested rather upon their powers of digestion than in polemics or pulpit oratory. the newgate chaplain had to say grace at city banquets, and was sometimes called upon to eat three consecutive dinners without rising from the table. one in particular was noted for his skill in compounding a salad, another for his jovial companionship. but the ordinary took life easy, and beyond conducting the services, did little work. only when executions were imminent was he especially busy. it behoved then to collect matter for his account of the previous life and the misdeeds of the condemned, with their demeanour at tyburn, and this, according to contemporary records, led him to get all the information he could from the malefactors who passed through his hands. in the history of the press yard there is an account of the proceedings of the chaplain, mr. smith, which may be somewhat over-coloured, but which has the appearance of truth. it was the ordinary's custom to give interviews in his private closet to those condemned to death, and cross-examine them closely. one day a young fellow was brought before him, to whom he said at once, "well, boy, now is the time to unbosom thyself to me. thou hast been a great sabbath-breaker in thy time i warrant thee? the neglect of going to church regularly has brought thee under these unhappy circumstances." "not i, good sir," was the reply; "i never neglected going to some church, if i was in health, morning and evening every lord's day." the lad told truth, for his business took him to such places of resort for the better carrying on his trade, which was that of a pickpocket. mr. smith was not to be done out of his confession. "no sabbath-breaker? then thou hast been an abominable drunkard?" this the criminal denied, declaring that he had always had a mortal aversion to strong drinks. the chaplain continued to press the criminal, but could find that he had been guilty of nothing more than thieving, and as this was a topic he could not enlarge upon in his pamphlet, he dismissed the lad, to be entered in his account as an obstinate, case-hardened rogue. but while the official lacked zeal or religious fervour, there were not wanting others more earnest and enthusiastic to add their unprofessional but devoted efforts to the half-hearted ministrations of the ordinary of newgate. towards the end of the seventeenth century, when the society for the promotion of christian knowledge was first formed, dr. bray and other members visited newgate, and made its inmates their especial care for a time. a prominent figure in the philanthropic annals of newgate a little later is that of silas told, who devoted many years of his life to the spiritual needs of the prisoners. told's career is full of peculiar interest. he was a pious child; both father and mother were religious folk, and brought him up carefully. according to his own memoirs, when quite an infant he and his sister dulcibella were wont to wander into the woods and fields to converse about "god and happiness." told passed through many trials and vicissitudes in his early years. at thirteen he went to sea as an apprentice, and suffered much ill-usage. he made many voyages to the west indies and to the guinea coast, being a horrified and unwilling witness of some of the worst phases of the slave trade. he fell into the hands of piratical spaniards, was cast away on a reef, saved almost by a miracle, last of all was pressed on board a man-of-war. here, on board h.m.s. 'phoenix,' his religious tendencies were strengthened by a pious captain, and presently he married and left the sea for ever. after this he became a schoolmaster in essex, then a clerk and book-keeper in london. here he came under the influence of john wesley, and although predisposed against the methodists, he was profoundly impressed by their leader's preaching. while listening to a sermon by john wesley on the suddenness of conversion, told heard another voice say to him, "this is the truth," and from that time forth he became a zealous methodist. it was wesley who led him to prison visitation. he was at that time schoolmaster of the foundry school, and his call to his long and devoted labours in newgate were brought about in this wise. "in the year ," to quote his own words, "i attended the children one morning at the five o'clock preaching, when mr. wesley took his text out of the twenty-fifth chapter of st. matthew. when he read 'i was sick and in prison, and ye visited me not,' i was sensible of my negligence in never visiting the prisoners during the course of my life, and was filled with horror of mind beyond expression. this threw me well-nigh into a state of despondency, as i was totally unacquainted with the measures requisite to be pursued for that purpose. however, the gracious god, two or three days after, sent a messenger to me in the school, who informed me of the malefactors that were under sentence of death, and would be glad of any of our friends who could go and pray with them. the messenger, whose name was sarah peters, gave me to understand that they were all much awakened, and that one of them, john lancaster, was converted, and full of the grace of god. in consequence of this reviving information, i committed my school without an hour's delay to my trusty usher, and went with sarah peters to newgate, where we had admittance to the cell wherein they were confined." silas told found lancaster in a state of religious exaltation, thanking god that he had been sent to newgate, and praying while they knocked his irons off, till even the attendant sheriff shed tears. [illustration: _rev. mr. whitfield preaching on kennington common_] silas accompanied the condemned men to tyburn, and saw the gallows for the first time. he tells us that he went not without much shame and fear, because he clearly perceived the greater part of the spectators considered him as one of the sufferers. lancaster, on arriving at the fatal tree, lifted up his eyes thereto, and said, "blessed be god," then prayed extemporary in a very excellent manner, and the others behaved with great discretion. lancaster was friendless, and no one came forward to give the body interment; so the "surgeon's mob" secured it, and carried it over to paddington for dissection. scarcely had it disappeared before a party of sailors came on the scene and demanded what had become of it. they followed the "surgeon's mob," recovered the body, and carried it in state through islington and hounsditch till they were tired. then they dropped it upon the first doorstep. the story ends most dramatically, and told declares that an old woman, disturbed by the uproar, came down and recognized in john lancaster's corpse the body of her own son. after this first visit told went regularly to newgate. he describes the place, twenty-one years later, but still remembered vividly, as "such an emblem of the infernal pit as he never saw before." however, he struggled bravely on, having a constant pressure upon his mind "to stand up for god in the midst of them," and praying much "for wisdom and fortitude." he preached as often as he was permitted to both felons and debtors. but for the first few years, when attending the malefactors, he met with so many repulses from the keeper and ordinary, as well as from the prisoners themselves, that he was often greatly discouraged. "but notwithstanding i more vehemently pressed through all," becoming the more resolute and "taking no denial." his most bitter opponent, as was not unnatural, was the ordinary, mr. taylor, who would constantly station himself on sunday mornings a few doors from newgate, and wait there patiently for a couple of hours or more to obstruct his entrance, at the same time forbidding the turnkeys to give him admittance. told's persistence generally got him through, so that most sunday mornings he had an opportunity of preaching on the debtors' side to a congregation of forty or more. his influence among the debtors was so great that they readily formed themselves, at his request, into a society or organization, bound by rules and regulations to strict religious observances. in this he was ably seconded by the "circumspection" of two or three prisoners who highly approved of his proposals, and exercised a close watch on the others, whom they would not "suffer to live in any outward sin." for a considerable time the debtors paid regular attention to his preachings and the meetings of the society. after some time, however, the ordinary "raised a great tumult," and managed ever after to shut silas told out from that side of the prison. told was not to be repressed entirely. in spite of all opposition, he still visited the felons, among whom there was a blessed work, especially among the condemned malefactors. he frequently preached during the space which intervened between sentence and execution; he constantly visited the sick in all parts of the prison, which he tells us he had "reason to believe was made a blessing to many of their souls." his zeal was so great that he spared no pains to do all the good in his power, "embracing every opportunity, both in hearing and speaking, so that in process of time he preached in every prison, as well as in every workhouse, in and about london, and frequently travelled to almost every town within twelve miles of the metropolis." silas told has left us several of his personal experiences in attending upon the condemned. one of the most interesting cases is that of mary edmonson, who was convicted of murdering her aunt, on slight evidence, and whose guilt seems doubtful. when the time of her departure for tyburn approached, silas begged the sheriff to let him visit her as soon as possible. the sheriff asked him if he was a clergyman. "no, sir," replied told. "are you a dissenting minister?" "i answered him 'no.'" "what are you then?" he went on. silas replied that he was one who preached the gospel, and who wished to be the means of bringing the prisoner to confession. the sheriff then bade told seize hold of his bridle-rein, and go by his side to the place of execution; although he cautioned him against the attempt, there being a riotous mob all along the streets, who were fiercely incensed against the poor condemned woman. "as we were proceeding on the road,"--let silas tell his own story,--"the sheriff's horse being close to the cart, i looked at her from under the horse's bridle, and said, 'my dear, look to jesus.' this salutary advice quickened her spirit, insomuch that although she did not look about her before, yet she turned herself round to me and joyfully answered, 'sir, i bless god i can look to jesus for my comfort!' this produced a pleasant smile on her countenance, which when the sons of violence perceived, they d--d her in a shameful manner; this was accompanied with a vengeful shout, 'see how bold she is! see how the ---- laughs!' "at length we came to the gallows, where many officers were stationed on horseback, besides numbers more on foot, furnished with constables' staves. when the cart was backed under the gallows, a very corpulent man trod on my foot with such weight that i really thought he had taken it quite off; however, the sheriff soon cleared the way, and formed an arrangement of constables round the cart, then directed some of them to put me into it, in order that i might be of all the service to the malefactor which lay in my power; the sheriff himself standing behind the cart, the better to avail himself of my discourses with her. when she was tied up i began to address her nearly in the same words i did at the peacock, pressing upon her an acknowledgment of the murder in the most solemn manner, but she declared her innocence in the presence of the sheriff. i then interrogated her. 'did you not commit the fact? had you no concern therein? were you not interested in the murder?' she answered, 'i am as clear of the whole affair as i was the day my mother brought me into the world.' the sheriff on hearing these words shed plenty of tears, and said, 'good god! it is a second coleman's case!' this circumstance likewise brought tears from many persons who heard her. when i was getting out of the cart the executioner put the handkerchief over her eyes, but she quickly moved it away, and, addressing herself to the multitude, begged them to pray that god would bring to light, when she was departed, the cause of the assassination, saying she had no doubt but the prayers of such persons would be heard; but repeated her innocence, solemnly declaring that she was as ignorant of the crime for which she was going to suffer as at the day of her birth; and added also, 'i do not lay anything to the charge of my maker, he has an undoubted right to take me out of this world as seemeth him good; and although i am clear of this murder, yet i have sinned against him in many various instances; but i bless god he hath forgiven me all my sins.' her kinsman then came up into the cart, and would fain have saluted her; but she mildly turned her face aside, strongly suspecting him to be the assassin. "after her kinsman had gone out of the cart, the executioner a second time was putting the handkerchief over her face, when she again turned it aside, looking at the sheriff, and saying, 'i think it cruel that none is suffered to pray by me.' the sheriff then desired me, for god's sake, to go a second time into the cart and render my prayers with her, which when finished, she began to pray extempore, and in a most excellent manner. when she had concluded her prayer, the executioner performed his part, and being turned off, her body dropped against my right shoulder, nor did she once struggle or move, but was as still as if she had hung for three hours." one other case i will extract from silas told, as it possesses some peculiar features. it is that of the amateur highwaymen who took to the road as a fitting frolic to end a day's pleasure. messrs. morgan, whalley, brett, and dupree, and two more, had dined freely at chelmsford to celebrate an election. having "glutted themselves with immoderate eating and drinking," they went out on the highway to rob the first person they came across. this happened to be an essex farmer, whom they stripped of all he had. the farmer got help, followed them into chelmsford, where they were captured, sent to london, tried at the old bailey, and cast for death. they were all of good station--brett the son of a clergyman in dublin, whalley a man of fortune, dupree a gentleman, and morgan an officer on board one of his majesty's ships of war. the last was engaged to lady e---- howard, a daughter of the duke of norfolk, who frequently visited mr. morgan in newgate, told being generally present at their interviews. lady e---- went daily to the king, as did many other persons of great influence, to beg mr. morgan's life; but his majesty steadfastly rejected all petitions, stating that to do so would be to show partiality and a want of justice. but the devoted woman would not forego all hope, and, the morning before the execution, again appeared, and fell upon her knees at the king's feet. "my lady," said his majesty, "there is no end to your importunity. i will spare his life upon condition that he is not acquainted therewith till he arrives at the place of execution." this was accordingly carried. brett, whalley, and dupree were actually tied up to the gallows. morgan and two others followed in a second cart, when the sheriff rode up with the respite for morgan. "it is hard to express"--i again quote from told--"the sudden alarm this made among the multitude; and when i turned round and saw one of the prisoners out of the cart, falling to the ground, he having fainted away at the sudden news, i was seized with terror, as i thought it was a rescue rather than a reprieve; but when i beheld morgan put into a coach, and perceived that lady e. h. was seated therein, my fear was at an end. "as soon as morgan was gone, a venerable gentleman, addressing himself to dupree, begged him to look steadfastly to god, in whose presence he would shortly appear, and hoped the mercy his companion had received would have no bad effect upon him. dupree, with all calmness and composure of mind, said, 'sir, i thank god that him they reprieved; it doesn't by any means affect me.' this gave the gentleman much satisfaction. when prayers were ended, i addressed each of them in the most solemn words i was capable of, which i hope was not in vain, as they all appeared entirely resigned to their fate. brett earnestly craved the prayers of the multitude, and conjured them all to take warning by the untimely end of the three objects of their present attention. when they were turned off, and the mob nearly dispersed, i hastened back to newgate, and there seriously conversed with morgan, who, in consequence of the unexpected reprieve, was scarcely recovered." silas told continued his labours for many years. in he visited the notorious mrs. brownrigg, who was sentenced to be hanged for whipping her servant-maid to death, and whom he accompanied to the gallows. his death occurred in . he lived to hear of howard's philanthropic exertions, and to see the introduction of some small measure of prison reform. while silas told was thus engaged, another but a more erratic and eccentric philanthropist paid constant visits to newgate. this was alexander cruden, the well-known, painstaking compiler of the 'concordance.' for a long time he came daily to the gaol, to preach and instruct the prisoners in the gospel, rewarding the most diligent and attentive with money, till he found that the cash thus disbursed was often spent in drink the moment his back was turned. he did more good than this. through mr. cruden's solicitations a sentence of death upon a forger, richard potter, was commuted to one of transportation. more precise details of the manner in which a newgate ordinary interpreted his trust will be found in the evidence of the rev. brownlow forde, ll.d., before the committee of . dr. forde took life pretty easy. had a prisoner sent for him, he told the committee, he might have gone, but as no one did send, except they were sick and thought themselves at death's door, he confined his ministrations to the condemned, whom he visited twice a week in the day room of the press yard, or daily after the order for execution had arrived. he repudiated the notion that he had anything to do with the state of morals of the gaol. he felt no obligation to instruct youthful prisoners, or attend to the spiritual needs of the mere children so often thrown into newgate. he never went to the infirmary unless sent for, and did not consider it his duty to visit the sick, and often knew nothing of a prisoner's illness unless he was warned to attend the funeral. among other reasons, he said that as the turnkeys were always busy, there was no one to attend him. while the chaplain was thus careless and apathetic, the services he conducted were little likely to be edifying or decorous. the most disgraceful scenes were common in the prison chapel. as the prisoners trooped into the galleries they shouted and halloed to their friends in the body of the church. friends interchanged greetings, and "how d'ye do, sall?" was answered by "gallows well, conkey beau," as the men recognized their female acquaintances, and were recognized in turn. the congregation might be pretty quiet after the chaplain had made his appearance, but more often it was disorderly from first to last. any disposed to behave well were teased and laughed at by others. unrestricted conversation went on, accompanied by such loud yawning, laughing, or coughing as almost impeded the service. no one in authority attempted to preserve order; the gatesmen, themselves prisoners, might expostulate, but the turnkeys who were present ignored any disturbance until reminded of their duty by the chaplain. the keeper never attended service. it was suggested to him that he might have a pew in the chapel with a private entrance to it from his own house, but nothing came of the proposal. it was not incumbent upon the prisoners, except those condemned to death, to attend chapel. sometimes it was crowded, sometimes there was hardly a soul. in severe weather the place, in which there was no fire, was nearly empty. it was very lofty, very cold, and the prisoners, ill clad, did not care to shiver through the service. on "curiosity days," those of the condemned sermon, more came, including debtors and visitors from outside, who thronged to see the demeanour of the wretched convicts under the painful circumstances already described. the service must have been conducted in a very slovenly and irreverent manner. dr. forde had no clerk, unless it chanced that some one in the condemned pew knew how to read. if not, there were sometimes no responses, and the "whole service was apt to be thrown into confusion."[ ] a man who did so little himself could hardly be expected to view with much favour the undisciplined efforts of amateurs and outsiders. in his opinion the prisoners were only harassed and worried by the dissenting ministers and others who "haunted the gaol." dr. forde said they (the prisoners) did not like it. "it was not to be expected of them, with their habits, that they should be crammed with preaching and prayers." they bore with the visitation, however, hoping to get from the preacher a loaf, or money, or bread and cheese; although the tables were occasionally turned on them, and the visitor, according to dr. forde, "would eat up the mutton chop and drink the beer of some well-to-do prisoner, then go to prayers, and depart." these ministers he styled methodist preachers, or "clergymen who affect to be methodistical preachers," although one, according to him, was a "raggedly-dressed thames lighterman," who presumed to come in and expound the scriptures. dr. forde makes no mention of mr. baker, who must have been a constant visitor in his day--a "white-headed old man" who was in frequent attendance upon the prisoners when mrs. fry began her labours, and who had for years "devoted much time and attention to unostentatious but invaluable visits in newgate."[ ] dr. forde seems to have been more in his element when taking the chair at a public-house 'free-and-easy.' in the 'book for a rainy day,' already quoted, mr. smith gives us an account of a visit paid to dr. forde at a public-house in hatton garden. "upon entering the club-room, we found the doctor most pompously seated in a superb masonic chair, under a stately crimson canopy placed between the windows. the room was clouded with smoke, whiffed to the ceiling, which gave me a better idea of what i had heard of the 'black hole of calcutta' than any place i had seen. there were present at least a hundred associates of every denomination." it is consoling to find that while officials slumbered, private philanthropy was active, and had been in some cases for years. various societies and institutions had been set on foot to assist and often replace public justice in dealing with criminals. the marine society grew out of a subscription started by justices fielding and welch, in , for the purpose of clothing vagrant and friendless lads and sending them on board the fleet. the philanthropic society had been established in by certain benevolent persons, to supply a home for destitute boys and girls, and this admirable institution steadily grew and prospered. in it moved to larger premises, and in it had an income of £ a year, partly from subscriptions and legacies, partly from the profit on labour executed by its inmates.[ ] in another body of well-meaning people, moved by the "alarming increase of juvenile delinquency in the metropolis," formed a society to investigate its causes, inquire into the individual cases of boys actually under sentence, and afford such relief upon release as might appear deserved or likely to prevent a relapse into crime. the members of this society drew up a list containing seven hundred names of the friends and associates of boys in newgate, all of whom they visited and sought to reform. they went further, and seriously discussed the propriety of establishing a special penitentiary for juveniles, a scheme which was never completely carried out. another institution was the refuge for the destitute, which took in boys and girls on their discharge from prison, to teach them trades and give them a fair start in life. there were also the magdalen hospital and the female penitentiary, both of which did good work amongst depraved women. matters had improved somewhat in newgate after the report of the committee in , at least as regards the juveniles. a school had been established, over which the new ordinary, mr. cotton, who about this time succeeded dr. forde, presided, and in which he took a great interest. the chaplain was in communication with the philanthropic and other institutions, and promising cases were removed to them. the boys were kept as far as possible apart from the men, but not at first from one another. hence in the one long room they occupied and used for all purposes, eating, drinking, and sleeping, the elder and more vitiated boys were still able to exercise a baneful influence over the young and innocent. more space became available by the removal of the debtors to whitecross street, and then the boys were lodged according to categories in four different rooms. mr. cotton believed that the boys benefited morally from the instruction and care they received. this juvenile school was one bright spot in the prevailing darkness of newgate at that particular time. another and a still more remarkable amelioration in the condition of the prisoners was soon to attract universal attention. the great and good work accomplished by that noble woman mrs. fry on the female side of newgate forms an epoch in prison history, and merits a particular description. bad as were the other various courts and so called "sides" in newgate prison, the quadrangle appropriated to the females was far worse. its foul and degraded condition had attracted the sympathies of elizabeth fry as early as . the winter had been unusually severe, and mrs. fry had been induced by several friends, particularly by william forster, to visit newgate and endeavour to alleviate the sufferings of the female prisoners. the space allotted to the women was at that time still curtailed by the portion given over to the state side.[ ] they were limited to two wards and two cells, an area of about one hundred and ninety-two superficial yards in all, into which, at the time of mrs. fry's visit, some three hundred women with their children were crowded, all classes together, felon and misdemeanant, tried and untried; the whole under the superintendence of an old man and his son. they slept on the floor, without so much as a mat for bedding. many were very nearly naked, others were in rags; some desperate from want of food, some savage from drink, foul in language, still more recklessly depraved in their habits and behaviour. everything was filthy beyond description. the smell of the place was quite disgusting. the keeper himself, mr. newman, was reluctant to go amongst them. he strove hard to dissuade mrs. fry from entering the wards, and failing in that, begged her at least to leave her watch in his office, assuring her that not even his presence would prevent its being torn from her. mrs. fry's own account fully endorses all this. "all i tell thee is a faint picture of the reality; the filth, the closeness of the rooms, the ferocious manners and expressions of the women towards each other, and the abandoned wickedness which everything bespoke, are quite indescribable." "one act, the account of which i received from another quarter, marks the degree of wretchedness to which they were reduced at that time. two women were seen in the act of stripping a dead child for the purpose of clothing a living one."[ ] mrs. fry must have gone again, for she wrote under date feb. th, --"yesterday we were some hours in newgate with the poor female felons, attending to their outward necessities; we had been twice previously. before we went away dear anna buxton uttered a few words in supplication, and very unexpectedly to myself i did also. i heard weeping, and i thought they appeared much tendered. a very solemn quiet was observed; it was a striking scene, with the poor people around in their deplorable condition." mrs. fry's charity extended to the gift of clothing, for it is recorded in her memoirs that many members of her domestic circle had long a vivid recollection of the "green baize garments," and their pleasure in assisting to prepare them. nearly four years elapsed before elizabeth fry resumed her visits. newgate and what she had seen there had no doubt made a deep impression on her mind, but a long illness and family afflictions had prevented her from giving her philanthropic yearnings full play. she appears to have recommenced her visits about christmas , and on feb. th, , there is an entry in her journal to the effect that she had been "lately much occupied in forming a school in newgate for the children of the poor prisoners, as well as the young criminals." it was in this way that she struck at the hearts of these poor degraded wretches, who were only too eager to save their children from a life of crime. "the proposal was received," mrs. fry says, "even by the most abandoned with tears of joy." the three intervening years between and had brought no improvement in the female side. its inmates--the very scum of the town--were filthy in their habits and disgusting in their persons. mrs. fry tells us she found the railings in the inner yard crowded with half-naked women, struggling together for the front situations with the most boisterous violence, and begging with the utmost vociferation. as double gratings had now been fixed at some distance apart to prevent close communication between prisoners and their visitors, the women had fastened wooden spoons to the end of long sticks, which they thrust across the space as they clamoured for alms. mrs. fry tells us that she felt as if she were going into a den of wild beasts, and that she well recollects quite shuddering when the door closed upon her, and she was locked in with such a herd of novel and desperate companions. the women, according to another eye-witness, sat about the yard on the stones, squalid in attire, ferocious in aspect. on this occasion a woman rushed out from the ward "yelling like a wild beast;" she made the circuit of the yard, brandishing her arms and tearing the caps or coverings from the heads of the other women. in spite of these terrible scenes, the ladies, several friends having joined with mrs. fry, continued to give their attention to the school. "it was in our visits to the school," she afterwards observed, when giving evidence before the parliamentary committee of , "where some of us attended every day, that we were witnesses of the dreadful proceedings that went forward on the female side of the prison; the begging, swearing, gaming, fighting, singing, dancing, dressing up in men's clothes; the scenes are too bad to be described, so that we did not think it suitable to admit young persons with us." this awful place had long been aptly entitled "hell above ground." it was not strange that these miserable women should be absolutely unsexed. they were often subjected to brutal ill-treatment even before their arrival at newgate. many were brought to the prison almost without clothes. if coming from a distance, as in the case of transports lodged in newgate until embarkation, they were almost invariably ironed, and often cruelly so. one lady saw the female prisoners from lancaster castle arrive, not merely handcuffed, but with heavy irons on their legs, which had caused swelling and inflammation. others wore iron-hoops round their legs and arms, and were chained to each other. on the journey these poor souls could not get up or down from the coach without the whole of them being dragged together. a woman travelled from cardigan with an iron hoop round her ankle, and fainted when it was removed. this woman's story was, that during a long imprisonment she had worn an iron hoop round her waist, a second round her leg above the knee, a third at the ankle, and all these connected by chains. in the waist hoop were two bolts or fastenings, in which her hands were confined at night when she went to bed. her bed was only of straw. these wretched and ill-used creatures might be forgiven if they at times broke out into rebellion. for a long time it was the practice with the female transports to riot previous to their departure from newgate, breaking windows, furniture, or whatever came in their reach. their outrageous conduct continued all the way from the gaol to the water-side, whither they were conveyed in open waggons, noisy and disorderly to the last, amidst the jeers and shouts of the assembled crowds. mrs. fry, as i have said, endeavoured first to form a school. for this purpose an unoccupied room was set apart by the authorities. although looking upon her experiment as hopeless, she received cordial support from the sheriffs, the governor, mr. newman, and the ordinary of newgate, mr. cotton. the prisoners selected from among themselves a schoolmistress, mary connor by name, who had been committed for stealing a watch, and "who proved eminently qualified for her task." the school, which was for children only and young persons under twenty-five, prospered, and by degrees the heroic band of ladies were encouraged to greater efforts. the conduct of the prisoners, their entreaties not to be excluded from the benefits of the school, inspired mrs. fry with confidence, and she resolved to attempt the introduction of order, industry, and religious feeling into newgate. in april eleven members of the society of friends and another lady, the wife of a clergyman, formed themselves into "an association for the improvement of the female prisoners in newgate."[ ] these devoted persons gave themselves up entirely to their self-imposed task. with no interval of relaxation, and with but few intermissions from the call of other and more imperious duties, they lived among the prisoners.[ ] they arrived, in fact, at the hour of unlocking, and spent the whole day in the prison. the more crying needs of the newgate female prison at that date are indicated in a memorandum found among mrs. fry's papers. it was greatly in need of room, she said. the women should be under the control and supervision of female, and not, as heretofore, of male officers. the number of visitors should be greatly curtailed, and all communications between prisoners and their friends should take place at stated times, under special rules. the prisoners should not be dependent on their friends for food or clothing, but should have a sufficiency of both from the authorities. employment should be a part of their punishment, and be provided for them by government. they might work together in company, but should be separated at night according to classes, under a monitor. religious instruction should be more closely considered. it was to supply these needs that the committee devoted its efforts, the ladies boldly promising that if a matron could be found who would engage never to leave the prison day or night, they would find employment for the prisoners and the necessary funds until the city could be induced to meet the expense. the matron was found, and the first prison matron appointed, an elderly respectable woman, who proved competent, and discharged her duties with fidelity. mrs. fry next sought the countenance and support of the governor and chaplain, both of whom met her at her husband's house to listen to her views and proposals. mr. cotton, the ordinary, was not encouraging; he frankly told her that "this, like many other useful and benevolent designs for the improvement of newgate, would inevitably fail." mr. newman, however, bade her not despair; "but he has since confessed that when he came to reflect on the subject, and especially upon the character of the prisoners, he could not see even the possibility of success. both, however, promised their warmest co-operation." mrs. fry next saw one of the sheriffs, asking him to obtain a salary for the matron, and a room in the prison for the ladies' committee. this sheriff, mr. bridges, was willing to help her if his colleagues and the corporation agreed, "but told her that his concurrence or that of the city would avail her but little--the concurrence of the women themselves was indispensable; and that it was in vain to expect such untamed and turbulent spirits would submit to the regulations of a woman armed with no legal authority, and unable to inflict any punishment." nevertheless, the two sheriffs met mrs. fry at newgate one sunday afternoon. the women, seventy in number, were assembled, and asked whether they were prepared to submit to the new rules. all "fully and unanimously" agreed to abide by them, to the surprise of the sheriffs, who doubted their submitting to such restraints. upon this the sheriffs addressed the prisoners, telling them that the scheme had official support; then turning to mrs. fry, one of the two magistrates said, "well, ladies, you see your materials." the next business was to obtain work. it had occurred to mrs. fry that the manufacture of clothing for botany bay would be a suitable sort of employment, and she accordingly called upon the city firm, messrs. richard dixon and co., of fenchurch street, who had hitherto supplied these articles. she told them plainly that she was seeking to deprive them of a part of their trade, whereupon they magnanimously altogether relinquished it, feeling loth "to obstruct her laudable designs." the work obtained, the work-room was next prepared. the sheriffs sent in carpenters, and the old prison laundry was speedily cleaned, whitewashed, and got ready; after which mrs. fry assembled all the convicted prisoners, told them her views and hopes, read them her proposed rules, which, as she did not come among them with "any absolute or authoritative pretensions," should be put to the vote. the women present voluntarily subscribed to all, although they were stringent, and aimed at the reform of evil and probably long-cherished habits. these rules need not be inserted here at length. it will suffice to say that they laid down the principle of constant employment at knitting, needlework, or so forth; that begging, swearing, gambling, quarrelling, and immoral conversation were forbidden; that the women should submit themselves to their monitors, elected by themselves, to the yard-keeper, similarly elected, and to the matron; that personal cleanliness, a quiet, orderly demeanour, and silence at the work-tables should be incumbent on all. these rules were not only adopted readily, but strictly observed. in one month a complete transformation had taken place in the women. at first mrs. fry had wished to keep this gratifying result a secret, but it was thought expedient to report progress to the corporation, so that the new system might be approved and established by the authority of the city. on a day fixed the lord mayor, accompanied by the sheriffs and several aldermen, attended at newgate, and saw with their own eyes the remarkable change effected in so short a time. the daily routine went on before them exactly as usual. the prisoners assembled; one of the ladies read a chapter in the bible, then the women proceeded quietly to their work. "their attention during the time of reading, their orderly and sober deportment, their decent dress, the absence of anything like tumult, noise, or contention, the obedience and respect showed by them, and the cheerfulness exhibited in their countenance and manners, conspired to excite the astonishment and admiration of their visitors. many of these knew newgate, had visited it a few months before, and had not forgotten the painful impressions made by a scene exhibiting perhaps the very utmost limits of misery and guilt."[ ] the city magistrates at once accepted the results achieved. mrs. fry's rules were adopted into the prison system, power was conferred on the ladies to punish the refractory, and the salary of the matron was incorporated with the regular expenses of the prison. the evidence of a gentleman who visited newgate within a fortnight of the adoption of the new rules may fitly be added here. he went one day to call on mrs. fry at the prison, and was conducted to the women's side. "on my approach," he says, "no loud or dissonant sounds or angry voices indicated that i was about to enter a place which i was credibly assured had long had for one of its titles that of 'hell above ground.' the court-yard into which i was admitted, instead of being peopled with beings scarcely human, blaspheming, fighting, tearing each other's hair, or gaming with a filthy pack of cards for the very clothes they wore, which often did not suffice even for decency, presented a scene where stillness and propriety reigned. i was conducted by a [illustration: _entrance to mrs. fry's ward._] decently-dressed person, the newly-appointed yards-woman, to the door of a ward where at the head of a long table sat a lady belonging to the society of friends. she was reading aloud to about sixteen women prisoners, who were engaged in needlework around it. each wore a clean-looking blue apron and bib, with a ticket having a number on it suspended from her neck by a red tape. they all rose on my entrance, curtsied respectfully, and then at a signal given resumed their seats and employments. instead of a scowl, leer, or ill-suppressed laugh, i observed upon their countenances an air of self-respect and gravity, a sort of consciousness of their improved character, and the altered position in which they were placed. i afterwards visited the other wards, which were the counterparts of the first." the efforts of the ladies, which had been at first concentrated upon the convicted, were soon directed also upon the untried. these still continued in a deplorable state, quarrelling and disorderly, bolder and more reckless because they were in doubt as to their future fate. unhappily the same measure of success did not wait upon the attempt on this side. many of these women counted upon an early release, and would not take heartily to work, although when they did they were "really and essentially improved." nor could it be expected that the new régime could be established without occasional insubordination and some backsliding. the rules were sometimes broken. spirits had been introduced more than once; six or seven cases of drunkenness had occurred. but the women were careful not to break out before the ladies; if they swore, it was out of hearing, and although they still played cards, it was when the ladies' backs were turned. mrs. fry told the parliamentary committee how she expostulated with the women when she found they still gambled, and how she impressed upon them, "if it were true that there were cards in the prison," that she should consider it a proof of their regard if they would have the candour and kindness to bring her their packs. by and by a gentle tap came at her door as she sat alone with the matron, and a trembling woman entered to surrender her forbidden cards; another and another followed, till mrs. fry had soon five packs of cards in her possession. the culprits fully expected reproof, but mrs. fry assured them that their fault was fully condoned, and, much to their surprise, rewarded them for their spontaneous good feeling. this seems to have been in the ascendant on the whole, and at the end of the first year it was satisfactorily proved to competent judges, the past and present lord mayor, the sheriffs, gaolers, and various grand juries, the ordinary, and others, that an extraordinary change for the better had shown itself in the conduct of the females. the work done in newgate soon obtained much publicity, to the undoubted and manifest distaste of those who had accomplished it. it was first noticed in the newspapers by the well-known robert owen, who adduced it as a proof of the effects of kindness and regular habits. prison discipline was at this time attracting attention, and mrs. fry's labours were very remarkable in this line. very soon the female side at newgate became quite a show. every one of any status in society, every distinguished traveller, all people with high aims or deep feelings, were constrained to visit the prison. royalty for the first time took an interest in the gaol. the duke of gloucester was among the visitors, and was escorted round by mrs. fry in person. another day she was engaged with the chancellor of the exchequer; on a third with the home secretary and the speaker of the house of commons. still higher and more public honour was done to this noble woman by the marquis of lansdowne in the house of lords, who in , in moving an address on the state of the english prisons, spoke in terms of the highest eulogy of what had been effected "by mrs. fry and other benevolent persons in newgate." after this, admission to view the interior of newgate was eagerly sought by numbers of persons whose applications could not well be refused, in spite of the inconvenience occasioned by thus turning a place of durance into a sentimental lounge. a more desirable and useful result of these ministrations was the eagerness they bred in others to imitate this noble example. numbers of persons wrote to mrs. fry from all parts of the country, seeking advice and encouragement as to the formation of similar societies. even magistrates appealed to her regarding the management of their prisons. in consequence of the numerous communications received by the newgate association, a "corresponding committee" was formed to give information and send replies. letters came from various capitals of europe, including st. petersburgh, turin, and amsterdam, which announced the formation of ladies' societies for prison visiting. during many years following its inauguration, the "ladies' association" continued their benevolent exertions with marked and well-deserved success. they did not confine their labours to newgate, but were equally active in the other metropolitan prisons. they also made the female transports their peculiar charge, and obtained many reforms and ameliorations in the arrangement of the convict ships, and the provision for the women on landing at the antipodes. that the first brilliant successes should be long and continuously maintained could hardly be expected. as time passed and improvements were introduced, there was not the same room for active intervention, and it was difficult to keep alive the early fire. the energy of the ladies' committee might not exactly flag, but it came later on to be occasionally misapplied. and it will be found in a later chapter, that the inspectors of prisons were not altogether satisfied with the ground taken up by the association. chapter iv. the beginnings of prison reform. prison reform generally taken up--mr. neild's visitation--howard's great work repeated--neglect of prisons not the fault of the legislature--numerous gaol acts passed, but not carried out by local authorities--prison discipline society formed in --its distinguished members--mr. buxton a leading spirit--his views and arguments for insisting on prison reform--idea of classification first given in gaol act of , but never carried out--the society animadverts upon condition of various prisons--the borough compter--guildford--irons--their weight--overcrowding--underground dungeons--"the pit"--a few brilliant exceptions--bury st. edmunds--ilchester--newgate compared badly with last-named, but diet improved, and irons removed from untried--complete reform still indispensable for real improvement--prisoners committed to newgate taken through the streets in gangs, chained--opponents of reform--sydney smith laughs at efforts of prison discipline society--it continues to work undeterred--gives attention to tread-wheels--also to plans for prison construction--faulty prison architecture--society rewarded by new legislation, and devotes itself to seeing that new acts are observed--borough prisons the worst--acts did not apply to them--great diversity of practice and discipline prevail--various hours of labour--borough gaols continue bad because municipalities beyond reach of the law--description of worst borough gaols--newgate continues a bye-word--its shortcomings--further legislation--report of lords' committee in --reform of municipal corporations brings about reform in borough prisons. while mrs. fry was diligently engaged upon her self-imposed task in newgate, other earnest people, inspired doubtless by her noble example, were stirred up to activity in the same great work. it began to be understood that prison reform could only be compassed by continuous and combined effort. the pleadings, however eloquent, of a single individual were unable to more than partially remedy the widespread and colossal evils of british prisons. howard's energy and devotion were rewarded by lively sympathy, but the desire to improve which followed his exposures was but short-lived. it was so powerless against the persistent neglect of those intrusted with prison management, that, five-and-twenty years later, mr. neild, a second howard, as indefatigable and self-sacrificing, found by personal visitation that the condition of gaols throughout the kingdom was, with a few bright exceptions, still deplorable and disgraceful. mr. neild was compelled to admit in that "the great reformation produced by howard was in several places merely temporary: some prisons that had been ameliorated under the persuasive influence of his kind advice were relapsing into their former horrid state of privation, filthiness, severity, or neglect; many new dungeons had aggravated the evils against which his sagacity could not but remonstrate; the motives for a transient amendment were becoming paralyzed, and the effect had ceased with the cause." i have shown in a previous chapter what newgate was at this period, despite a vast expenditure and boasted efforts to introduce reforms. some of the county gaols, and one or two borough gaols, had been rebuilt, generally through the personal activity of influential and benevolent local magnates, but the true principles of prison construction were as yet but imperfectly understood, and such portions of the "improved" gaols of that period as were still extant a few years back, contrast ludicrously with the prison architecture based upon a century's experience of our own age. the neglect of prison reform in those days was not to be visited upon the legislature. the executive, although harassed by internal commotion and foreign war, was not entirely callous to the crying need for amelioration in gaols. measures remedial, although at best partial and incomplete, were introduced from time to time. thus in the exaction of gaol fees had been forbidden by law, and two other acts more peremptory and precise followed on the same subject in succeeding years. in a bill was brought in to insist upon the appointment of chaplains in gaols, and when this had passed into law, it was subsequently amplified, and the rates of salaries fixed. various acts were also passed to consolidate and amend previous gaol acts. the erection of new prison buildings was made imperative under certain conditions and following certain rules; the principle of classification was freshly enunciated; prison regulations were framed for general observance. but the effect of this legislation was rather weakened by the remoteness of the pressure exercised. the onus of improvement lay upon the magistracy, the local authorities administering local funds, and they were not threatened with any particular penalties if they evaded or ignored the new acts. moreover, the laws applied more particularly to county jurisdictions. the borough gaols, those in fact under corporate management, were not included in the new measures; it was hoped that their rulers would hire accommodation in the county prisons, and that the inferior establishments would in course of time disappear. yet the borough gaols were destined to survive many years, and to exhibit for a long time to come all the worst features of gaol mismanagement. it was in that a small band of philanthropists resolved to form themselves into an association for the improvement of prison discipline. they were hopeless of any general reform by the action of the executive alone. they felt that private enterprise might with advantage step in, and by the collection and diffusion of information, and the reiteration of sound advice, greatly assist the good work. the association was organized under the most promising auspices. a king's son, the duke of gloucester, was the patron; among the vice-presidents were many great peers of the realm, several bishops, and a number of members of the house of commons, including mr. manners sutton, mr. sturges bourne, sir james mackintosh, sir james scarlett, and william wilberforce. an active committee was appointed, comprising many names already well known, some of them destined to become famous in the annals of philanthropy. one of the moving spirits was the honourable h. g. bennet, m.p., whose vigorous protests against the lamentable condition of newgate have already been recorded. mrs. fry's brother, mr. samuel hoare, junior, was chairman of the committee, on which also served many noted members of the society of friends--mr. gurney, mr. fry, messrs. forster, and mr. t. f. buxton, the coadjutor of wilberforce in the great anti-slavery struggle. mr. buxton had already been associated with mrs. fry in the newgate visitation, and his attention had thus been drawn to the neglected state of english prisons. when in belgium he had examined with great satisfaction the admirable management of the great "maison de force" at ghent,[ ] which howard had eulogized some forty years before. mr. buxton communicated what he had seen at ghent to the prison discipline society, and was induced to make the account public. in order to give greater value to the pamphlet, he personally visited several english gaols, and pointed his observations by drawing forcible contrasts between the good and bad. mr. buxton's small work on prison discipline[ ] gave a new aspect to the question he had so much at heart. for the first time the doctrine was enunciated that prisoners had rights of their own. the untried, and in the eyes of the law still innocent, could claim pure air, wholesome and sufficient food, and opportunities for exercise. they had a right, mr. buxton affirmed, to be employed in their own crafts, provided it could be safely followed in prison. "you have no right," he says, addressing the authorities, "to subject a prisoner to suffering from cold, by want of bed-clothing by night or firing by day; and the reason is plain: you have taken him from his home, and have deprived him of the means of providing himself with the necessaries or comforts of life, and therefore you are bound to furnish him with moderate indeed but suitable accommodation." "you have for the same reason," he goes on, "no right to ruin his habits by compelling him to be idle, his morals by compelling him to mix with a promiscuous assemblage of hardened and convicted criminals, or his health by forcing him at night into a damp, unventilated cell, with such crowds of companions as very speedily render the air foul and putrid; or to make him sleep in close contact with the victims of contagious and loathsome disease, or amidst the noxious effluvia of dirt and corruption. in short, attention to his feelings, mental and bodily, a supply of every necessary, abstraction from evil society, the conservation of his health and industrious habits, are the clear, evident, undeniable rights of an unconvicted prisoner." nor even when found guilty and his liberty forfeited did his privileges cease. the law appointed a suitable punishment for the offence; it was for those charged with the administration of the law to guard carefully against any aggravation of that punishment, to see that "no circumstances of severity are found in his treatment which are not found in his sentence." no judge ever condemned a man to be half-perished with cold by day, or half-suffocated with heat by night. "who ever heard of a criminal being sentenced to catch the rheumatism or the typhus fever?" "disease, cold, famine, nakedness, and contagious and polluted air are not lawful punishments in the hands of the civil magistrates; nor has he a right to poison or starve his fellow-creatures."[ ] "the convicted delinquent has his rights," said mr. buxton authoritatively. "all measures and practices in prison which may injure him in any way are illegal, because they are not specified in his sentence; he is therefore entitled to a wholesome atmosphere, decent clothing and bedding, and a diet sufficient to support him." these somewhat novel but undoubtedly indisputable propositions were backed up, not by sound arguments only, but by the letter of the law. as mr. buxton pointed out, many old acts of parliament designed to protect the prisoner were still in full force. some might be in abeyance, but they had never been repealed, and some were quite freshly imported upon the statute book. as far back as the reign of charles ii., a law was passed[ ] declaring that sufficient provision should be made for the relief and setting on work of "poor and needy prisoners committed to the common jail for felony and other misdemeanours, who many times perish before their trial; and the poor there living idle and unemployed become debauched, and come forth instructed in the practice of thievery and lewdness." as a remedy, justices of the peace were empowered to provide materials for the setting of poor prisoners to work, and to pay overseers or instructors out of the county rates. again, the charles ii. c ordered the gaoler to keep felons and debtors "separate and apart from one another, in distinct rooms, on pain of forfeiting his office and treble damages to the party aggrieved." a much later act, the geo. iii. c. ( ), which was contemporaneous with howard's first journeys, laid down precise rules as regards cleanliness, and the proper supply of space and air. this act set forth that "whereas the malignant fever commonly called the jail distemper is found to be owing to want of cleanliness and fresh air in the several jails, the fatal consequences whereof might be prevented if the justices of the peace were duly authorized to provide such accommodations in jails as may be necessary to answer this salutary purpose, it is enacted that the justices shall order the walls of every room to be scraped and white-washed once every year." ventilators, hand and others, were to be supplied. an infirmary, consisting of two distinct rooms, one for males and one for females, should be provided for the separate accommodation of the sick. warm and cold baths, or "commodious bathing tubs," were to be kept in every gaol, and the prisoners directed to wash in them before release. these provisions were almost a dead letter. yet another act passed in , if properly observed, should have insured proper attention to them. by the geo. iii. c. , s. , two or more justices were appointed visitors of prisons, and directed to visit and inspect three times every quarter. they were to report in writing to quarter sessions as to the state of the gaol, and as to all abuses which they might observe therein. the most important gaol act of that early period, however, was the geo. iii. c. , s. ( ), which was the first legislative attempt to compel the classification of prisoners, or their separation into classes according to their categories or crimes. it was made incumbent upon the justices to provide distinct places of confinement for five classes of prisoners, viz.-- . prisoners convicted of felony. . prisoners committed on a charge or suspicion of felony. . prisoners guilty of misdemeanours. . prisoners charged with misdemeanours. . debtors. it was further ordered that male prisoners should be kept perfectly distinct from the females. king's evidences were also to be lodged apart. infirmaries separating the sexes were also to be provided, a chapel too, and warm and cold baths. "care also was to be taken that the prisoners shall not be kept in any apartment underground." in an early report of the prison discipline improvement society, published some six-and-thirty years after the promulgation of this act, the flagrant and persistent violations of it and others, which had continued through that long period, are forcibly pointed out. in , out of five hundred and eighteen prisons in the united kingdom, to which a total of upwards of one hundred thousand prisoners had been committed in the year, only twenty-three prisons were divided according to law; fifty-nine had no division whatever to separate males and females; one hundred and thirty-six had only one division for the purpose; sixty-eight had only two divisions, and so on. in four hundred and forty-five prisons no work of any description had been introduced for the employment of prisoners; in the balance some work was done, but with the most meagre results. the want of room was still a crying evil. in one hundred gaols, capable of accommodating only eight thousand five hundred and forty-five persons, as many as thirteen thousand and fifty-seven were crowded. many of the gaols were in the most deplorable condition: incommodious, as has been stated, insecure, unhealthy, and unprovided with the printed or written regulations required by law. to specify more particularly one or two of the worst, it may be mentioned that in the borough compter the old evils of indiscriminate association still continued unchecked. all prisoners passed their time in absolute idleness, or killed it by gambling and loose conversation. the debtors were crowded almost inconceivably. in a space twenty feet long by six wide, twenty men slept on eight straw beds, with sixteen rugs amongst them, and a piece of timber for a bolster. mr. buxton, who found this, declared that it seemed physically impossible, but he was assured that it was true, and that it was accomplished by "sleeping edgeways." one poor wretch, who had slept next the wall, said he had been literally unable to move for the pressure. "in the morning the stench and heat were so oppressive that he and every one else on waking rushed unclothed into the yard;" and the turnkey told mr. buxton that the "smell on first opening the door was enough to knock down a horse." the hospital was filled with infectious cases, and in one room, seven feet by nine, with closed windows, where a lad lay ill with fever, three other prisoners, at first perfectly healthy, were lodged. of course they were seized with the fever; so that the culprit, in addition to his sentence, had to endure by "the regulations of the city a disease very dangerous in its nature," and ran the risk of a lingering and painful death.[ ] at guildford prison, which mr. buxton also visited in , there was no infirmary, no chapel, no work, no classification. the irons, which nearly every one wore, were remarkably heavy; those double ironed could not take off their small clothes.[ ] no prison dress was allowed, and half the inmates were without shirts or shoes or stockings. the diet was limited to dry bread, which was of the best certainly, and a pound and a half in weight. matters were on much the same footing at st. albans. they were far worse at bristol, although at mr. buxton's visit a new gaol was in process of erection, the first step towards reform since howard's visitation in . in the old gaol was so densely packed that it was nearly impossible to pass through the yards for the throng. one hundred and fifty were lodged in a prison just capable of holding fifty-two. in the crowd, all of them persons who had "no other avocation or mode of livelihood but thieving," mr. buxton counted eleven children--children hardly old enough to be released from the nursery. all charged with felony were in heavy irons, without distinction of age. all were in ill health; almost all were in rags; almost all were filthy in the extreme. the state of the prison, the desperation of the prisoners, broadly hinted in their conversation and plainly expressed in their conduct, the uproar of oaths, complaints, and obscenity, "the indescribable stench," presented together a concentration of the utmost misery and the utmost guilt. it was "a scene of infernal passions and distresses," says buxton, "which few have imagination sufficient to picture, and of which fewer still would believe that the original is to be found in this enlightened and happy country." there was still worse to come. having explored the yards and adjacent day rooms, and sleeping cells, a door was unlocked, the visitors were furnished with candles, and they descended eighteen long steps into a vault. at the bottom was a circular space, through which ran a narrow passage, and the sides of which were fitted with barrack bedsteads. the floor was on the level of the river, and very damp. the smell at one o'clock of the day "was something more than can be expressed by the term disgusting." on the dirty bedstead lay a wretched being in the throes of severe illness. the only ventilation of this pit, this "dark, cheerless, damp, unwholesome cavern--a dungeon in its worst sense"--was by a kind of chimney, which the prisoners kept hermetically sealed, and which had never been opened in the memory of the turnkey. untried persons were often lodged in this nauseous underground den, and sometimes slept in "the pit," loaded with heavy irons for a whole year, waiting the gaol delivery. confinement for twelve months in the bristol gaol was counted a punishment equivalent to seven years' transportation. in this prison there was no female infirmary. sick women and their children remained in the ordinary wards, and propagated disease. no prison dress was allowed; no reception-room was provided, no soap, towels, or baths. the bedclothes consisted only of a single "very slight" rug. the allowance of food daily to felons was a fourpenny loaf, a price which in those days fluctuated enormously--as much as a hundred per cent. in a couple of years; but as no similar variation occurred in the prisoner's appetite, his ration was somewhat precarious. as for the debtors, they had no allowance whatever, and were often in imminent danger of starvation. with all this, the inmates were crowded together at night to such a degree as to excite surprise that they should escape suffocation. there reigned through the whole edifice a chilly, damp, unwholesome atmosphere, and the effluvia from the prisoners was so nauseous that the chaplain found it necessary to take his place before they entered chapel, as he could not otherwise have faced the smell. it is consoling to know that there were a few brilliant exceptions to this cruel, callous neglect. already, as early as , a prison existed at bury st. edmunds which was a model for imitation to others at that time, and which even fulfilled many of the exacting requirements of modern days. the great principles of classification, cleanliness, and employment were closely observed. there were eighty-four separate sleeping-cells, and unless the gaol was overcrowded, every inmate passed the night alone, and in comparative comfort, with a bed and proper bedding. the prison stood on a dry, airy situation outside the town. prisoners on reception were treated as they are now-a-days--bathed, dressed in prison clothes, and inspected by the surgeon. no irons were worn except as a punishment. personal cleanliness was insisted upon, and all parts of the prison were kept scrupulously clean. there was an infirmary, properly found and duly looked after. no idleness was permitted among the inmates. trades were taught, or prisoners were allowed to follow their own if suitable. there was, besides, a mill for grinding corn, somewhat similar to a turn-spit, which prisoners turned by walking in rows. this made exertion compulsory, and imposed hard labour as a proper punishment. another gaol, that of ilchester, was also worthy of all commendation. it exhibited all the good points of that at bury. at ilchester the rule of employment had been carried further. a system not adopted generally till nearly half a century later had already prevailed at ilchester. the new gaol had been in a great measure constructed by the prisoners themselves. masons, bricklayers, carpenters, painters had been employed upon the buildings, and the work was pronounced excellent by competent judges. industrial labour had also been introduced with satisfactory results. blanket weaving and cloth spinning was carried on prosperously, and all the material for prisoners' apparel was manufactured in the gaol. there were work-rooms for wool-washing, dyeing, carding, and spinning. the looms were constantly busy. tailors were always at work, and every article of clothing and bedding was made up within the walls. there was a prison laundry too, where all the prisoners' linen was regularly washed. the moral welfare of the inmates was as closely looked after as the physical. there was an attentive chaplain, a schoolmaster, and regular religious and other instruction. compared with those highly meritorious institutions newgate still showed but badly. its evils were inherent and irremediable, but some ameliorating measures had been introduced, mainly through the exertions of a new governor, mr. brown, who succeeded mr. newman at newgate in .[ ] the most noticeable of the improvements introduced was a better regulation of dietaries within the prison. the old haphazard system, by which meat was issued in bulk, a week's allowance at a time, was abolished, and there was a regular scale of daily rations adopted. the diet was now ample. it consisted of a pound and a half of bread per diem; for breakfast a pint of gruel; for dinner half a pound of boiled meat, or a quart of soup with vegetables, on alternate days. the food was properly prepared in the prison kitchen. meat was no longer issued raw, to be imperfectly cooked before a ward fire and bolted gluttonously, the whole two pounds at one sitting. mr. brown confidently asserted that no gaol in england now fed its inmates so well as did newgate. so plentiful was this dietary, that although the old permission remained in force of allowing the friends of prisoners to bring them supplies from outside, the practice was falling into abeyance, and the prisoners seldom required private assistance to eke out their meals.[ ] it was also claimed for the more ample and more orderly distribution of victuals, that the general health of the prisoners had greatly improved. mr. brown also, much to his own credit, brought about the abandonment of the practice of ironing all prisoners as a matter of course. in prisoners awaiting trial in newgate, were at length relieved from this illegal infliction. convicts were not even compelled to wear irons, providing they behaved well. it was found that shackles might be safely dispensed with, even in the case of the most desperate characters. this was effected by stopping the nearly indiscriminate admission of visitors, which had hitherto prevailed all over the gaol. ironing it will be remembered,[ ] was a distinguishing badge, so that when the gaol was cleared the free might be readily known from the captive, and escapes prevented. under the new rule visitors were not allowed to pass into the interior of the prison, but were detained between the grating. this change led to some discontent, until it was found that the much greater boon of relief from irons accompanied it, and the reform was quietly accepted. indeed the best consequences followed from the removal of irons. the prisoners were much better disposed; there were no riots, and fewer disturbances. but nothing short of radical reform and complete reconstruction could touch the deep-seated evils of association, overcrowding, and idleness. the first still produced deplorable results--results to be observable for many years to come. mr. buxton mentions the case of a boy whose apparent innocence and artlessness had attracted his attention. he had been committed for an offence for which he was acquitted. he left newgate utterly corrupted, and after lapsing into crime, soon returned with a very different character. other cases of moral deterioration have already been recorded. some attempt was made to reduce the overcrowding, on the recommendation of the house of commons committee of , but this applied only a partial remedy. the bulk of the prisoners were still left in idleness. a few fortunate criminals, many of them kept back from transportation on purpose, who were skilled in trades, were employed at them. painters, plasterers, and carpenters were allowed to follow their handicrafts, with the reward of sixpence per diem and a double allowance of food. they used their own tools, and this without any dangerous consequences as regards facilitating the escape of others, thus disposing of the objection so long raised against the industrial employment of prisoners in newgate. but this boon of toil was denied to all but a very limited number. as the prison discipline society pertinently observed in a report dated , "it is obvious that reformation must be materially impeded, and in some cases utterly defeated, when the prisoners are defectively classed, remain without constant inspection or employment, and are consequently condemned to habits of idleness and dissipation." newgate prisoners were the victims to another most objectionable practice which obtained all over london. persons committed to a metropolitan gaol at that time were taken in gangs, men and women handcuffed together, or linked on to a long chain, unless they could afford to pay for a vehicle out of their own funds. even then they were not certain of the favour, for i find a reference to a decent and respectable woman sent to newgate, who handed a shilling to the escort warder to provide her with a hackney coach; but this functionary pocketed the cash, and obliged the woman to walk, chained to the rest. as the miserable crew filed through the public streets, exposed to the scornful gaze of every passenger, they were followed by a crowd of reckless boys, who jeered at and insulted them. many thus led in procession were in a shocking condition of dirt and misery, frequently nearly naked, and often bearing upon them the germs, more or less developed, of contagious disease. "caravans," the forerunners of the prison vans, were first made use of about . that the need for prison reform was imperative may be gathered from the few out of many instances i have adduced, yet there were those who, wedded to ancient ideas, were intolerant of change; they would not admit the existence of any evils. one smug alderman, a member of the house of commons, sneered at the ultra philanthropy of the champions of prison improvement. speaking on a debate on prison matters, he declared that "our prisoners have all that prisoners ought to have, without gentlemen think they ought to be indulged with turkey carpets." the society for the improvement of prison discipline was taxed with a desire to introduce a system tending to divest punishment of its just and salutary terrors; an imputation which the society indignantly and very justly repudiated, the statement being, as they said, "refuted by abundant evidence, and having no foundation whatever in truth." among those whom the society found arrayed against it was sydney smith, who, in a caustic article contributed to the 'edinburgh review,' protested against the pampering of criminals. while fully admitting the good intentions of the society, he condemned their ultra humanitarianism as misplaced. he took exception to various of the proposals of the society. he thought they leant too much to a system of indulgence and education in gaols. he objected to the instruction of prisoners in reading and writing. "a poor man who is lucky enough," he said, "to have his son committed for a felony educates him under such a system for nothing, while the virtuous simpleton who is on the other side of the wall is paying by the quarter for these attainments." he was altogether against too liberal a diet; he disapproved of industrial occupations in gaols, as not calculated to render prisons terrible. "there should be no tea and sugar, no assemblage of female felons around the washing-tub, nothing but beating hemp and pulling oakum and pounding bricks--no work but what was tedious, unusual."... "in prisons, which are really meant to keep the multitude in order, and to be a terror to evil-doers, there must be no sharings of profits, no visiting of friends, no education but religious education, no freedom of diet, no weavers' looms or carpenters' benches. there must be a great deal of solitude, coarse food, a dress of shame, hard, incessant, irksome, eternal labour, a planned and regulated and unrelenting exclusion of happiness and comfort."[ ] undeterred by these sarcasms and misrepresentations, the society pursued its laudable undertaking with remarkable energy and great singleness of purpose. the objects it had in view were set forth in one of its earliest meetings. it sought to obtain and diffuse useful information, to suggest beneficial regulations, and circulate tracts demonstrating the advantages of classification, constant inspection, regular employment, and humane treatment generally, with religious and moral instruction. it earnestly advocated the appointment of female officers to take exclusive charge of female prisoners, a much-needed and, according to our ideas, indispensable reform, already initiated by the ladies' committee at newgate.[ ] it made the subject of the newly-invented tread-wheels, or stepping-wheels, as they were at first called, its peculiar affair, and obtained full details, from places where they had been adopted, of the nature of these new machines,[ ] the method by which they were worked, and the dietaries of the prisoners employed upon them. nor did it confine itself to mere verbal recommendations. the good it tried to do took active shape in the establishment of temporary refuges--at hoxton for males, and in the hackney road for females--for the reception of deserving cases discharged from prison. the governor of newgate and other metropolitan prisons had orders of admission to this refuge, which he could bestow on prisoners on release, and so save the better-disposed or the completely destitute from lapsing at once into crime. the refuge, which had for its object the training of its inmates in habits of industry, and in moral and religious duty, and which after a time sought to provide them with suitable situations, was supported entirely out of the funds of the society. at the time of its greatest prosperity, its annual income from donations and subscriptions was about £ . another point to which the society devoted infinite pains was the preparation of plans for the guidance of architects in the construction of prisons. a very valuable volume published by the society traced the progress of prison architecture from the days when the gaol was the mere annexe of the baronial or episcopal castle, or a dungeon above or below the gate of a town, to the first attempts at systematic reconstruction carried out under the advice and supervision of howard.[ ] it is interesting to observe that the plan of "radiation," by which the prison blocks radiated from a central hall, like spokes in a wheel, was introduced as early as by mr. blackburn, an architect of eminence who was very largely employed in the erection of prison buildings at the close of the last century. with some important modifications this principle of radiation is still the rule. the society did not limit its remarks to the description of what had already been done, but it offered suggestions for future buildings, with numerous carefully-executed drawings and designs of the model it recommended for imitation. experience has since shown that in some respects these plans are defective, especially in the placing of the governor's residence in the centre of the prison. it was thought that this would guarantee constant supervision and inspection, but it did nothing of the kind, and only the presence of warders on duty is found now-a-days to be really efficacious. the main recommendations, however, are based upon common sense, and none are more commendable than that which deprecates the excessive ornamentation of the external parts of the edifice. "the new gaols," as howard says, "having pompous fronts, appear like palaces to the lower class of people, and many persons are against them on this account." the prison society reproves the misdirected efforts of ambitious architects, who by a lavish and improvident expenditure of public money sought to "rank the prisons they built among the most splendid buildings of the city or town." absence of embellishment is in perfect unison with the character of the establishment. these are principles fully recognized now-a-days, and it may fairly be conceded that the prison discipline society's ideal differed little from that kept in view in the construction of the latest and best modern gaols. after a few years of active exertion the society was rewarded by fresh legislation. to its efforts, and their effect upon parliament and the public mind, we must attribute the new gaol acts of geo. iv. cap. , and geo. iv. cap. , which having gone through several sessions, at last became law in - . by the preamble of the first-named act it was declared "expedient to introduce such measures and arrangements as shall not only provide for the safe custody, but shall also tend more effectually to preserve the health and improve the morals of the prisoners, and shall insure the proper measure of punishment to convicted offenders." accordingly due provision was made for the enforcement of hard labour on all prisoners sentenced to it, and for the employment of all others. as a rider to this enactment, it was laid down that any prisoner who could work and would not had no claim to be supported in gaol, "unless such ability (to work) should cease by reason of sickness, infirmity, the want of sufficient work, or from any other cause." it was distinctly laid down that male and female prisoners should be confined in separate buildings or parts of the prison, "so as to prevent them from seeing, conversing, or holding any intercourse with each other." classification was insisted upon, in the manner laid down by the geo. iii. cap. ,[ ] with such further separation as the justices should deem conducive to good order and discipline. female prisoners were in all cases to be under the charge of female officers. every prison containing female prisoners was to have a matron who was to reside constantly in the prison. the religious and moral welfare of the prisoners were to be attended to, the first by daily services, the latter by the appointment of schoolmasters and instruction in reading and writing. last, but not least, the use of irons was strictly forbidden, "except in cases of urgent and absolute necessity," and every prisoner was to be provided with a hammock or cot to himself, suitable bedding, and, if possible, a separate cell. the second act, passed in the following year, enlarged and amended the first, and at the same time gave powers to the house to call for information as to the observance of its provisions. the promulgation of these two gaol acts strengthened the hands of the prison discipline society enormously. it had now a legal and authoritative standard of efficiency to apply, and could expose all the local authorities that still lagged behind, or neglected to comply with the provisions of the new laws. the society did not shrink from its self-imposed duty, but continued year after year, with unflagging energy and unflinching spirit, to watch closely and report at length upon the condition of the prisons of the country. for this purpose it kept up an extensive correspondence with all parts of the kingdom, and circulated queries to be answered in detail, whence it deduced the practice and condition of every prison that replied. upon these and the private visitations made by various members the society obtained the facts, often highly damnatory, which were embodied in its annual reports. the progress of improvement was certainly extremely slow. it was long before the many jurisdictions imitated the few. gaols, of which the old prison at reading was a specimen, were still left intact. in that prison, with its cells and yards arranged within the shell of an ancient abbey chapel, the prisoners, without firing, bedding, or sufficient food, spent their days "in surveying their grotesque prison, or contriving some means of escape by climbing the fluted columns which supported the gothic arches of the aisles, and so passing by the roof down into the garden and on to freedom." in a county prison adjoining the metropolis, the separation between the male and female quarters was supposed to be accomplished by the erection of an iron railing; in this same prison capital convicts were chained to the floor until execution. in another gaol not far off male and female felons still occupied the same room--underground, and reached by a ladder of ten steps. in others the separation between the sexes consisted in a hanging curtain, or an imaginary boundary line, and nothing prevented parties from passing to either side but an empty regulation which all so disposed could defy. numbers of the gaols were still unprovided with chaplains, and the prisoners never heard divine service. in many others there were no infirmaries, no places set apart for the confinement of prisoners afflicted with dangerous and infectious disorders. no attempt was made to maintain discipline. half the gaols had no code of rules properly prepared and sanctioned by the judges, according to law. by degrees, however, the changes necessary to bring the prisons into conformity with the recent acts were attempted, if not actually introduced into the county prisons, to which, with a few of the more important city or borough prisons, these acts more especially applied.[ ] most of the local authorities embarked into considerable expenditure, determined to rebuild their gaols _de novo_ on the most approved pattern, or to reappropriate, reconstruct, and patch up the existing prisons till they were more in accordance with the growing requirements of the times. religious worship became more generally the rule; chaplains were appointed, and chapels provided for them; surgeons and hospitals also. workshops were built at many prisons, various kinds of manufactures and trades were set on foot, including weaving, matting, shoe-making, and tailoring. the interior of one prison was illuminated throughout with gas,--still a novelty, which had been generally adopted in london only four years previously,--"a measure which must greatly tend to discourage attempts to escape." there were tread-wheels at most of the prisons, and regular employment thereon or at some other kind of hard labour. in many places too where the prisoners earned money by their work, they were granted a portion of it for their own use after proper deduction for maintenance. only a few glaring evils still demanded a remedy. the provision of separate sleeping cells was still quite inadequate. for instance, in twenty-two county gaols there were sleeping cells in all (in ), and the average daily number committed that year amounted to . the want of sleeping cells long continued a crying need. four years later the prison society reported that in four prisons, which at one time of the year contained prisoners, there were only sixty-eight sleeping rooms or cells, making an average of nineteen persons occupying each room. at the new prison, clerkenwell, which had become the principal reception gaol of middlesex, and so took all the untried, the sleeping space per head was only sixteen inches, and often as many as men[ ] had to be accommodated on barrack beds occupying barely feet lineal. the "scenes of tumult and obscenity" in these night rooms are said to have been beyond description; a prisoner in one nocturnal riot lost an eye. yet to clerkenwell were now committed the juveniles, and all who were inexperienced in crime. great want of uniformity in treatment in the various prisons was still noticeable, and was indeed destined to continue for another half century, in other words, until the introduction of the prison act of .[ ] at the time of which i am writing there was great diversity of practice as regards the hours of labour. in some prisons the prisoners worked seven hours a day, in others ten and ten and a half. the nature of the employment varied greatly in severity, especially the tread-wheel labour. in some county gaols, as i have already said, female prisoners were placed upon the tread-wheel; in others women were very properly exempted from it, and also from all severe labour. earnings were very differently appropriated. here the prisoners were given the whole amount, there a half or a third. sometimes this money might be expended in the purchase of extra articles of food.[ ] the rations varied considerably everywhere. it was still limited to bread in some places, the allowance of which varied from one to three pounds; in others meat, soup, gruel, beer were given. here and there food was not issued in kind, but a money allowance which the prisoner might expend himself. bedding and clothing was still denied, but only in a few gaols; in others both were supplied in ample quantities, the cost varying per prisoner from twenty shillings to five pounds. it was plain that although the law had defined general principles of prison government, too much discretion was still left to the magistracy to fill in the details. the legislature only recommended, it did not peremptorily insist. too often the letter of the law was observed, but not its spirit. one great impediment to wide amelioration was that a vast number of small gaols lay out of reach of the law. when the new acts were introduced, numerous prisons under local jurisdiction were exempted from the operation of the law. they were so radically bad that reform seemed hopeless, and it was thought wiser not to bring them under provisions which clearly could not be enforced. mr. peel, who as home secretary had charge of the bill, which became the geo. iv. cap. , said that he had abstained from legislating for these small jurisdictions "on mature deliberation." "it is not," he said, "that i am insensible of the lamentable and disgraceful situation in which many of them are, but i indulge a hope that many of them will contract with the counties, that many of them will build new gaols, and that when in a year or two we come to examine their situation, we shall find but few which have not in one or other of these ways removed the grievance of which such just complaint is made. when that time arrives i shall not hesitate to ask parliament for powers to compel them to make the necessary alterations, for it is not to be endured that these local jurisdictions should remain in the deplorable situation in which many of them now are." at this time there were in england one hundred and seventy boroughs, cities, towns, and liberties which possessed the right of trying criminals for various offences. nearly every one of these jurisdictions had its own prison, and there were one hundred and sixty such gaols in all. many of them consisted of one or two rooms at most. the total number of prisoners they received during the year varied from two persons to many hundreds. it was in these gaols, withdrawn from the pressure of authority, that the new rules were invariably ignored. the right and privilege of the borough to maintain its own place of confinement was so "ancient and indisputable," that for long no idea of interfering with them was entertained. all that was urged was that the borough magistracy had no right to govern their gaols so as to corrupt those committed, "to the injury of the peace and morals of the public." as time passed, however, these magistrates made no effort at reform. they neither built new gaols nor contracted with the counties, as had been expected, for the transfer of their prisoners. as the society put it in , "the friends to the improvement of prison discipline will regret to learn that the gaols attached to corporate jurisdictions continue to be the fruitful sources of vice and misery, debasing all who are confined within their walls, and disseminating through their respective communities the knowledge and practice of every species of criminality." the society proceeded to support this indictment by facts. it is much the old story. the prisoners were lodged in rooms whence they could converse with passengers in the streets, and freely obtain spirits and other prohibited articles. all descriptions of offenders congregated together in the felons' wards. the keeper and his officers resided at a distance from the gaol, and left its inmates to their own devices. there was no decency whatever in the internal arrangements; still no separation of the sexes, no means of ablution or other necessary services. one borough prison consisted of nothing more than a couple of cells, about ten yards square, and absolutely nothing more. in another borough, with a population of ten thousand, the prison was of the same dimensions. one cell was a dungeon, and the other an "improper and unhealthy abode for any human being," with a watercourse running through it. most of these small gaols were still in existence and in much the same state eight years later, as is shown by the report of the commissioners to inquire into the state of the municipal corporations in . an examination of this report shows how even the most insignificant township had its gaol. thus dinas mwddy, in merionethshire, had, "besides the pinfold and the stocks or crib, a little prison." clun, in shropshire, had a lock-up under the town hall. at eye, in suffolk, the gaol was part of the poor-house; so it was at richmond, in yorkshire, where the master of the workhouse was also keeper of the gaol. at godmanchester there was no gaol, but a cage to secure prisoners till they could be taken before a magistrate. kidderminster had a prison, one damp chill room, "the only aperture through which air could be admitted being an iron grating level with the street, through the bars of which quills or reeds were inserted, and drink conveyed to the prisoners." at walsall, in staffordshire, the gaol consisted of six cells, frequently so damp that the moisture trickled down the walls; there was not space for air or exercise, and the prison allowance was still limited to bread and water. newgate through all these years continued a bye-word with the society. some reforms had certainly been introduced, such as the abolition of irons, already referred to, and the establishment of male and female infirmaries. the regular daily visitation of the chaplain was also insisted upon. but it was pointed out in that defective construction must always bar the way to any radical improvement in newgate. without enlargement no material change in discipline or interior economy could possibly be introduced. the chapel still continued incommodious and insufficient; female prisoners were still exposed to the full view of the males, the netting in front of the gallery being perfectly useless as a screen. in newgate had no glass in its windows, except in the infirmary and one ward of the chapel yard; and the panes were filled in with oiled paper, an insufficient protection against the weather; and as the window-frames would not shut tight, the prisoners complained much of the cold, especially at night. there was a diminution in the numbers in custody, due to the adoption of the practice of not committing at once to newgate every offender for trial at the old bailey, but nothing had been done to improve the prison buildings. in the society was compelled to report that "no material change had taken place in newgate since the passing of the prison laws,[ ] and that consequently the observance of their most important provisions was habitually neglected." it was enacted that the court of aldermen should make rules for the government of the prison, and that these should be posted publicly within the walls. as yet no rules or regulations had been printed or prepared. by another clause of the gaol act, two justices were to be appointed to visit the prison at least thrice in every quarter, and "oftener if occasion required." these justices were to inspect every part of the prison, and examine into the state and condition of prisoners. the city justices had not fulfilled this obligation. idleness was still the general rule for all prisoners in newgate, in defiance of the law. there was no instruction of adult prisoners, in accordance with the law. the sleeping accommodation was still altogether contrary to the latest ideas. the visits of friends was once more unreservedly allowed, and these incomers freely brought in extra provisions and beer. last, and worst of all, the arrangements for keeping the condemned prisoners between sentence and execution were more than unsatisfactory. they were not confined apart from each other, but were crowded thirty or forty together in the press yard, so that "corrupt conversation obliterated from the mind of him who is doomed to suffer every serious feeling and valuable impression."[ ] i shall have more to say on this subject, and upon the state of newgate generally, in the following chapter. the prison society did not relax its efforts as time passed, but its leading members had other and more pressing claims upon their energies. mr. buxton had succeeded to the great work which william wilberforce had commenced, and led the repeated attacks upon slavery in british colonies till the whole body of the slaves were manumitted in . in the year immediately preceding this, parliament was too busy with the great question of its own reform to spare much time for domestic legislation. nevertheless a committee of the house of commons was appointed in to report upon the whole system of secondary punishments, which dealt with gaols of all classes, as well as transportation. this committee animadverted strongly upon the system in force at the metropolitan gaols, and more especially upon the condition of newgate, where "prisoners before and after trial are under no efficient superintendence," and where "there was no restraint, or attempt at restraint." mr. samuel hoare was examined by this committee, and stated that in his opinion newgate, as the common gaol of middlesex, was wholly inadequate to the proper confinement of its prisoners. from the moment of a person's committal he was certain to be plunged deeper and deeper in guilt. the prisoners were crowded together in the gaol, contrary to the requirements of the geo. iv. again in prisons and their inmates became once more the care of the senate, and the subject was taken up this time by the house of lords. a committee was appointed, under the presidency of the duke of richmond, "to inquire into and report upon the several gaols and houses of correction in the counties, cities, and corporate towns within england and wales; upon the rules and discipline therein established with regard to the treatment of unconvicted as well as convicted persons." the committee was also to report upon the manner in which sentences were carried out, and to recommend any alterations necessary in the rules in order to insure uniformity of discipline. it met on the st march, , and continued its sittings well into july, during which time a host of witnesses were examined, and the committee presented three separate reports, embodying recommendations which may be said to have formed the basis of modern prison management. it was laid down as a first and indispensable principle that uniformity of discipline should prevail everywhere, a theory which did not become a practical fact for forty more years. as a means of securing this uniformity, it was suggested that the rules framed for prison government should be subjected to the secretary of state for approval, and not, as heretofore, to the judges of assize; that, both to check abuses and watch the progress of improvement, inspectors of prisons should be appointed, who should visit all the prisons from time to time and report to the secretary of state. it was recommended that the dietaries should be submitted and approved like the rules; that convicted prisoners should not receive any food but the gaol allowance; that food and fuel should be issued in kind, and never provided by the prisoners themselves out of monies granted them. the use of tobacco, hitherto pretty generally indulged in both by men and women, should be strictly prohibited, "as a stimulating luxury inconsistent with any notion of strict discipline and the due pressure of just punishment." prison officers should not have any share in prisoners' earnings, which should be paid into general prison funds, and no part of them handed over to the prisoners themselves. as a means of increasing the severity of imprisonment, letters and visits from outside should not be permitted during the first six months of an imprisonment. various other recommendations were made as regards the appointment of chaplain and schoolmasters; the limitation of the powers of wardsmen, or prisoners employed in positions of trust, who should not be permitted to traffic with their fellow-prisoners in any way. the committee most of all insisted upon the entire individual separation of prisoners, except during the hours of labour, religious worship, and instruction, as "absolutely necessary for preventing contamination, and for securing a proper system of prison discipline." this was the first enunciation of the system of separate confinement, which was eventually to replace the attempted arrangement of prisoners by classes according to antecedents and crimes, an incomplete and fallacious method of preventing contamination. the lords' committee fully recognized the painful fact that the greatest mischief followed from the intercourse which was still permitted in so many prisons; to use its words, "the comparatively innocent are seduced, the unwary are entrapped, and the tendency to crime in offenders not entirely hardened is confirmed by the language, the suggestions, and the example of more depraved and systematic criminals." this committee, as well as the one preceding it, also reported in terms of strong reprobation on the small prisons and gaols still under the borough corporations. the commons' committee gave it as their opinion that they were in a deplorable state. the same language was used by the commissioners appointed to inquire into the municipal corporations in , when speaking more particularly of the borough gaols. in these the commissioners found "additional proof of the evils of continuing the present constitution of the local tribunals. instances rarely occur in which the borough gaols admit of any proper classification of the prisoners. in some large towns, as at berwick on tweed, southampton, and southwark, they (the prisons) are in a very discreditable condition. in many of the smaller boroughs they are totally unfit for the confinement of human beings. in these places the prisoners are often without a proper supply of air and light; frequently the gaols are mere dungeons under the town hall.... it was frequently stated in evidence that the gaol of the borough was in so unfit a state for the reception of prisoners, that plaintiffs were unwilling to consign the defendants against whom they had obtained execution to confinement within its walls." the lords' committee on gaols were of the same opinion, and considered the prisons under corporate or peculiar jurisdiction in a very unsatisfactory condition. they therefore recommended that the prisoners should be removed to the county gaols from such prisons as were past improvement, and that the borough funds should be charged for the accommodation. the whole question was again dealt with in lord john russell's bill for the reform of the municipal corporations, and with a more liberal election of town councillors, and the establishment of municipal institutions upon a proper footing, the borough gaols were brought more into accordance with the growing demand for a more humane system of prison management. chapter v. the first report of the inspectors of prisons. appointment of inspectors of prisons--their names and antecedents--mr. crawford and mr. whitworth russell at once visit newgate, and make a searching inquiry--find old evils still present--overcrowding no longer excusable--want of classification--the governor, mr. cope, blamed for this--prisoners' treatment--no beds, uncleanly, and in rags--baleful despotism of prisoner wardsmen, who have more power than the officers--again proofs of mr. cope's neglect--scenes of horror in newgate--gambling, drinking, debauchery--flash books allowed--libel of stockdale v. hansard grows out of this--serious affrays in the wards--prisoners badly wounded by one another--extra and luxurious food admitted--also visitors of both sexes indiscriminately--same evils to a lesser degree on female side--ladies' association--no real separation of the sexes--mr. cope an offender in this respect--the press-yard or condemned convicts' yard the worst of all--culpable and indiscriminate association--brutal behaviour of many of those sentenced to death--the ordinary checked in his zeal--criminal lunatics allowed to remain in newgate--house of commons' prisoners monopolize hospital and best accommodation in the gaol--abuses of state side revived in their case--evils rampant briefly recapitulated by inspectors--their report raises a storm in the city--protest of the corporation--some attempt at reform--many of the charges reiterated in later reports--no radical reform possible without complete reconstruction. in the preceding chapter i have been tempted by the importance of the general question to give it prominence and precedence over the particular branch of which i am treating. newgate has remained rather in the background while the whole of the gaols as a body were under discussion. but this digression was necessary in order to present a more complete picture of the state of gaols in the early part of the present century, just before the public mind was first awakened to the need for thorough reform. i shall now return to the great gaol of the city of london, and give a more detailed account of its condition and inner life as the inspectors of prisons found them in - . these gentlemen were appointed in october , owing to the strong representations of the lords' committee,[ ] backed up by the evidence of several influential witnesses. mr. samuel hoare, when examined, considered it indispensably necessary, to carry out whatever system might be established, that inspectors should watch over the observance of the law. he saw no objection on the score of their probable interference with the local jurisdiction, but he would not arm them with any authority lest their co-operation might be offensive. sir frederick roe was of the same opinion as regards the appointment, but he would give the inspectors the power of acting as well as reporting. they should be persons, he thought, selected from the highest class; the duty was most important, one which required discretion, judgment, and knowledge of law, with sufficient insight and experience to discover defects in prison discipline. these considerations no doubt had weight with those who made the selection of the first inspectors, and the two gentlemen appointed were probably the most fitted in england to be so employed. one was mr. william crawford, the other the rev. whitworth russell. the first named had long been an active philanthropist, devoting himself more particularly to the reformation of juvenile criminals.[ ] william crawford had been one of the promoters and managers of the philanthropic society's farm school. later on he had devoted himself to the personal investigation of the prisons of the united states. at that time the mild and intelligent prison discipline in force in pennsylvania, the legacy of the old quaker immigrants, had made such prisons as auburn a model for imitation. several european states had despatched emissaries to examine and report upon them. france had sent mm. beaumont and de tocqueville, who subsequently published several interesting works on the subject. england was represented by mr. crawford, and the result of his inquiry was given to the public as an appendix to the house of commons' 'report on secondary punishments.' it is an able and exhaustive state paper, testifying to the keenness of the writer's perception, and his unremitting labour in pursuing his researches. mr. crawford was thoroughly versed in the still imperfectly understood science of prison management, and fully qualified for his new duties. the second inspector, the rev. whitworth russell, was the chaplain of millbank penitentiary, the great architectural experiment which grew out of the strong representations of jeremy bentham and others, and was the first national recognition of the principle that punishment must be reformatory as well as deterrent. messrs. crawford and russell proceeded to carry out their new functions with commendable energy, and without a moment's loss of time. the ink was barely dry upon their letters of appointment before they appeared at newgate, and commenced a searching investigation. they attended early and late; they mustered the prisoners, examined into their condition, took voluminous evidence from all classes of individuals, from the governor down to the convict in the condemned cells. they visited the wards after locking-up time, and saw with their own eyes what went on. having started with the proposition that the metropolitan prisons must monopolize their attention, as constituting, to use their own words, "a subject of magnitude and importance sufficient to exclude other gaols," they soon narrowed their inquiry still further, and limited it to newgate alone. newgate indeed became the sole theme of their first report. the fact was that the years as they passed, nearly twenty in all, had worked but little permanent improvement in this detestable prison. changes introduced under pressure had been only skin deep. relapse was rapid and inevitable, so that the latter state of the prison was worse than the first. the disgraceful overcrowding had been partially ended, but the same evils of indiscriminate association were still present; there was the old neglect of decency, the same callous indifference to the moral well-being of the prisoners, the same want of employment and of all disciplinary control. all these evils were set forth at length in the inspectors' first report. there was no longer the faintest possible excuse for overcrowding. the numbers now committed to newgate had sensibly diminished. the prison had become more or less a place of detention only, harbouring mainly those awaiting trial. to these were still added an average of about fifty expecting the last penalty of the law; a certain number of transports awaiting removal to the colonies; an occasional prisoner or two committed by the houses of parliament, the courts of king's bench, common pleas, and exchequer, the commissioners of bankruptcy and of taxes; smugglers, and a larger number sentenced for very short terms, and for offences of the most varying description, by the central criminal court. the sum total thus produced was inconsiderable compared with the hundreds that had formerly filled the gaol, and the whole by proper management might have been so accommodated as to prevent overcrowding. but incredible as it may appear, the authorities of newgate declined to avail themselves of the advantages offered them, and when the population fell they shut up one half the gaol and crowded up the other. some rooms remained quite empty and unoccupied, while others were full to overflowing. not only were the wards thus needlessly crammed, and for no reason but the niggardliness of the corporation which refused a proper supply of bedding, but the occupants of each were huddled together indiscriminately. the inspectors found in the same wards in the chapel yard the convicted and the untried, the felon and the misdemeanant, the sane and the insane, the old and young offender. the classification prescribed by the gaol act, which laid down that certain prisoners should not intermix, was openly neglected, and "the greatest contempt shown for the law." in another part there were men charged with and convicted of unnatural offences shut up with lads of tender years; minor offenders charged with small thefts or non-payment of small sums were cheek by jowl with convicts sentenced to long terms of transportation. in the master's side yard, which had only one washing place, as many as seventy-eight prisoners, frequently more, were associated together, "of every variety of age, habit, and delinquency, without employment, oversight, or control." in the middle yard it was still worse. "here," say the inspectors, "are herded together the very worst class of prisoners; certainly a more wretched combination of human beings can hardly be imagined. we have reason to fear that poverty, ragged clothes, and an inability to pay the ward dues, elsewhere exacted for better accommodation, consign many of the more petty and unpractised offenders to this place, where they inevitably meet with further contamination from the society of the most abandoned and incorrigible inmates of the gaol." no doubt the governor for the time being, mr. cope, was in a great measure to blame for all this, and for the want of proper classification. i shall have occasion to speak again, and more at length, of mr. cope's careless and perfunctory discharge of his many manifest duties, but i shall here confine myself to animadverting on his neglect as regards the appropriation of his prison. he was unable to give any reason whatever for not utilizing the whole of the wards. he saw certain rooms fill up, and yet took no steps to open others that were locked up and empty. he blamed the construction of newgate for the neglect of classification, and was yet compelled to confess that he had made no attempt whatever to carry it out. the fact was, he did not keep the classification of prisoners on first arrival in his own hands, nor even in that of his officers. a new prisoner's fate, as to location, rested really with a powerful fellow-prisoner. the inspectors found that prisoners had their places assigned to them by the inner gatesman, himself a convicted prisoner, and a "wardsman" or responsible head of a room. the wardsman still exacted dues, of which more directly, and this particular official took excellent care to select as residents for his own ward those most suitable from his own point of view. "so great is the authority exercised by him, and so numerous were his opportunities of showing favouritism, that all the prisoners may be said to be in his power. if a man is poor and ragged, however inexperienced in crime, or however trifling may be the offence for which he has been committed, his place is assigned among the most depraved, the most experienced, and the most incorrigible offenders in the middle yard." it must be admitted that so far but little effort had been made to counteract the evils of indiscriminate association. it was not likely that a system which left innocent men--for the great bulk of new arrivals were still untried--to be pitchforked by chance anywhere, into any sort of company, within this the greatest nursery of crime in london, should exercise even the commonest care for the personal decency or comfort of the prisoners. their treatment was also a matter of chance. they still slept on rope mats on the floor, herded together in companies of four or more to keep one another warm, and under the scanty covering of a couple of dirty stable-rugs apiece. so closely did they lie together, that the inspectors at their night visits found it difficult in stepping across the room to avoid treading on them. sometimes two mats were allotted to three sleepers. sometimes four slept under the same bedding, and left their mats unoccupied. the rugs used were never washed; an order existed that the bedding should be taken into the yards to be aired, but it was not very punctually obeyed. the only convenience for personal ablutions were the pumps in the yards, and the far-off baths in the condemned or press-yard. water might not be taken into the ward for washing purposes. there was some provision of clothing, but it was quite insufficient, and nothing at all was given if prisoners had enough of their own to cover their nakedness. the inspectors paraded the prisoners, and found them generally ragged and ill-clad, squalid and filthy in the extreme; many without stockings, and with hardly shoes to their feet; some, who had the semblance of covering on the upper part of their feet, had no soles to the shoes, and their bare feet were on the ground. this, too, was in the depth of the winter, and during a most inclement season. the allowance of food was not illiberal, but its issue was precarious, and dependent on the good will of the wardsmen, who measured out the portions to each according to his eye, and not with weights and measures, no turnkey being present. too much was left to the wardsman. it was he who could issue small luxuries; he sold tea, coffee, sugar, tobacco, although prohibited, and extra beer. he charged a weekly sum as ward dues for the use of knives, forks, and plates--a perpetuation under another form of the old detestable custom of garnish. he had power where his exactions were resisted of making the ward most uncomfortable for the defaulter. he could trump up a false complaint against his fellow-prisoner, and so get him punished; he might keep him from the fire, or give him his soup or gruel in a pail instead of a basin. the authority of these wardsmen so improperly exalted, and so entirely unchecked, degenerated into a baneful despotism. they bought their offices from one another, and were thus considered to have a vested interest in them. their original capital had been a few shillings, and for this they purchased the right to tax their fellows to the extent of pounds per week. the wardsman had a monopoly in supplying provisions, gave dinner and breakfast at his own price, and was such complete master of the ward that none of its inmates were suffered to make tea or coffee for themselves lest it should interfere with his sales. he made collections when it suited him for ward purposes, to be spent as he chose, in candles and so forth. when the wardsman was a man of some education, with some knowledge of legal chicanery gained by personal experience, he might add considerably to his emoluments by drawing briefs and petitions for his fellows. there was a recognized charge of _s._ per brief, for a petition of from _s._ _d._ to _s._, according to its length, and by these payments a wardsman had been known to amass as much as £ . the man intrusted with this privilege was often the inner gatesman, the prisoner official already mentioned, who held the fate of new arrivals as regards location in his hands. it was not strange that he should sometimes misuse his power, and when prisoners were not to be cajoled into securing his legal services, had been known to employ threats, declaring that he was often consulted by the governor as to a prisoner's character, in view of speaking to it at the trial, and he could easily do them a good turn--or a very bad one. the brief-drawing gatesman and wardsman at the time of the inspectors' first visit must have been a particularly powerful personage. he was on the most intimate and improperly familiar terms with the turnkeys, had a key of both the master's side and middle side yards, was the only person present at the distribution of beer, and was trusted to examine, and, if he chose, pass in, all provisions, money, clothes, and letters brought for prisoners by their friends. all the wardsmen alike were more or less irresponsible. the turnkeys complained bitterly that these old prisoners had more power than they themselves. the governor himself admitted that a prisoner of weak intellect who had been severely beaten and much injured by a wardsman did not dare complain, the victim of this cruel ill-usage having "more fear of the power of the wardsman to injure him, than confidence in the governor's power to protect him." these wardsmen, besides thus ruling the roast, had numerous special privileges, if such they can be called. they were not obliged to attend chapel, and seldom if ever went; "prisoners," said one of them under examination, "did not like the trouble of going to chapel." they had a standing bedstead to sleep on, and a good flock mattress; double allowance of provisions, filched from the common stock. nobody interfered with them or regulated their conduct. they might get drunk when so disposed, and did so frequently, alone or in company. evidence was given before the inspectors of eight or ten prisoners seen "giddy drunk, not able to sit upon forms." the female wards-women were also given to intemperance. the matron deposed to having seen the gates-woman "exceedingly drunk," and having been insulted by her. there was no penalty attached to drunkenness. a wardsman did not necessarily lose his situation for it. nor was drink the only creature comfort he might enjoy. he could indulge in snuff if a snuff-taker, and might always smoke his pipe undisturbed; for although the use of tobacco had been prohibited since the report of the lords committee, it was still freely introduced into the prison. probably authority would not have been so recklessly usurped by the wardsmen had not the proper officials too readily surrendered it. the turnkeys left the prisoners very much to themselves, never entering the wards after locking-up time, at dusk, till unlocking next morning, and then only went round to count the number. many of them were otherwise and improperly occupied for hours every day in menial services for the governor, cleaning his windows or grooming his horse. one turnkey had been so employed several hours daily for nearly eleven years. it was not strange that subordinates should neglect their duty when superiors set the example. nothing was more prominently brought out by the inspectors than the inefficiency of the governor at that time, mr. cope. he may have erred in some points through ignorance, but in others he was clearly guilty of culpable neglect. we have seen that he took no pains to classify and separate prisoners on reception. this was only one of many grave omissions on his part. he did not feel it incumbent on himself to visit his prison often or see his prisoners. the act prescribed that he should do both every twenty-four hours, but days passed without his entering the wards. the prisoners declared that they did not see him oftener than twice a week; one man who had been in the condemned ward for two months, said the governor only came there four times. again, a turnkey deposed that his chief did not enter the wards more than once a fortnight. but it is only fair to mr. cope to state that he himself said he went whenever he could find time, and that he was constantly engaged attending sessions and going with drafts to the hulks. but when he did visit, his inspections were of the most superficial character; sometimes he looked at his bolts and bars, but he never examined the cupboards, coal-boxes, or other possible hiding-places for cards, dice, dangerous implements, or other prohibited articles. he only attended chapel once on sunday, never on the week-day, and generally devoted the time service was in progress to taking the descriptions of newly-arrived prisoners. he really did not know what passed in his gaol, and was surprised when the inspectors proved to him that practices of which he was ignorant, and which he admitted that he reprehended, went on without hindrance. he was satisfied to let matters run on as in the old times, he said in his own justification; with him what was, was right, and evils that should have been speedily rooted out remained because they had the prescription of long usage. he kept no daily journal of occurrences, and nothing, however important, was recorded at the time. the aldermen never called upon him to report, and left him nearly unsupervised and uncontrolled. in his administration of discipline he was quite uncertain; the punishments he inflicted were unequal, and it was not the least part of the blame imputed to him that he made special favourites of particular prisoners, retaining of his own accord in newgate, and for years, felons who should have been sent beyond the seas. but, indeed, his whole rule was far too mild, and under this mistaken leniency the interior of the gaol was more like a bear-garden or the noisy purlieus of a public-house than a prison. it was the same old story--evil constantly in the ascendant, the least criminal at the mercy of the most depraved. under the reckless contempt for regulations, the apathy of the authorities, and the undue ascendancy of those who, as convicted felons, should have been most sternly repressed, the most hardened and the oldest in vice had the best of it, while the inexperienced beginner went to the wall. edward gibbon wakefield,[ ] who spent three years in newgate a little before the time of the inspectors' first report, said with justice that "incredible scenes of horror occur in newgate." it was, moreover, in his opinion undoubtedly the greatest nursery of crime in london. the days were passed in idleness, debauchery, riotous quarrelling, immoral conversation, gambling, indirect contravention of parliamentary rules, instruction in all nefarious processes, lively discourse upon past criminal exploits, elaborate discussion of others to be perpetrated after release. no provision whatever was made for the employment of prisoners, no materials were purchased, no trade instructors appointed. there was no school for adults; only the boys were taught anything, and their instructor, with his assistant, were convicted prisoners. idle hands and unoccupied brains found in mischief the only means of whiling away the long hours of incarceration. gaming of all kinds, although forbidden by the gaol acts, was habitually practised. this was admitted in evidence by the turnkeys, and was proved by the appearance of the prison tables, which bore the marks of gaming-boards deeply cut into them. prisoners confessed that it was a favourite occupation, the chief games being "shoving halfpence" on the table, pitch in the hole, cribbage, dominoes, and common tossing, at which as much as four or five shillings would change hands in an hour. but this was not the only amusement. most of the wards took in the daily papers, the most popular being the 'times,' 'morning herald,' and 'morning chronicle'; on sunday the 'weekly dispatch,' 'bell's life,' and the 'weekly messenger.' the newsman had free access to the prison; he passed in unsearched and unexamined, and, unaccompanied by an officer, went at once to his customers, who bought their paper and paid for it themselves. the news-vendor was also a tobacconist, and he had thus ample means of introducing to the prisoners the prohibited but always much-coveted and generally procurable weed. in the same way the wardsman laid in his stock to be retailed. other light literature besides the daily journals were in circulation: novels, flash songs, play-books, such as 'jane shore,' 'grimm's german tales,' with cruikshank's illustrations, and publications which in these days would have been made the subject of a criminal prosecution. one of these, published by stockdale, the inspectors styled "a book of the most disgusting nature."[ ] there was also a good supply of bibles and prayers, the donation of a philanthropic gentleman, captain brown, but these, particularly the bibles, bore little appearance of having been used. drink, in more or less unlimited quantities, was still to be had. spirits certainly were now excluded; but a potman, with full permission of the sheriffs, brought in beer for sale from a neighbouring public-house, and visited all the wards with no other escort than the prisoner gatesman. the quantity to be issued per head was limited by the prison regulations to one pint, but no steps were taken to prevent any prisoner from obtaining more if he could pay for it. the beer-man brought in as much as he pleased; he sold it without the controlling presence of an officer. not only did prisoners come again and again for a "pint," but large quantities were carried off to the wards to be drunk later in the day. there were more varied, and at times, especially when beer had circulated freely, more uproarious diversions. wrestling, in which legs were occasionally broken, was freely indulged in; also such low games as "cobham," leap-frog, puss in the corner, and "fly the garter," for which purpose the rugs were spread out to prevent feet slipping on the floor. feasting alternated with fighting. the weekly introduction of food, to which i shall presently refer, formed the basis of luxurious banquets, washed down by liquor and enlivened by flash songs and thrilling long-winded descriptions of robberies and other "plants." there was much swearing and bad language, the very worst that could be used, from the first thing in the morning to the last thing at night.[ ] new arrivals, especially the innocent and still guileless debutant, were tormented with rude horse-play, and assailed by the most insulting "chaff." if any man presumed to turn in too early he was "toed," that is to say, a string was fastened to his big toe while he was asleep, and he was dragged from off his mat, or his bedclothes were drawn away across the room. the ragged part of the prisoners were very anxious to destroy the clothes of the better dressed, and often lighted small pieces of cloth, which they dropped smouldering into their fellow-prisoners' pockets. often the victim, goaded to madness, attacked his tormentors; a fight was then certain to follow. these fights sometimes took place in the daytime, when a ring was regularly formed, and two or three stood by the door to watch for the officer's approach. more often they occurred at night, and were continued to the bitter end. the prisoners in this way administered serious punishment on one another. black eyes and broken noses were always to be seen. more cruel injuries were common enough, which did not result from honest hand-to-hand fights. the surgeon's journal produced to the inspectors contained numerous entries of terrible wounds inflicted in a cowardly way. "a serious accident: one of the prisoners had a hot poker run into his eye." "a lad named matthew white has had a wound in his eye by a bone thrown at him, which very nearly destroyed vision." "there was a disturbance in the transport yard yesterday evening, and the police were called in. during the tumult a prisoner, ... who was one of the worst of the rioters, was bruised about the head and body." "watkins' knee-joint is very severely injured." "a prisoner baxter is in the infirmary in consequence of a severe injury to his wrist-joint." watkins' case, referred to above, is made the subject of another and a special report from the surgeon. he was in the transport side, when one of his fellows, in endeavouring to strike another prisoner with a large poker, missed his aim, and struck watkins' knee.... violent inflammation and extensive suppuration ensued, and for a considerable time amputation seemed inevitable. after severe suffering prolonged for many months, the inflammation was subdued, but the cartilage of the knee-joint was destroyed, and he was crippled for life. on another occasion a young man, who was being violently teased, seized a knife and stabbed his tormentor in the back. the prisoner who used the knife was secured, but it was the wardsman, and not the officers, to whom the report was made, and no official inquiry or punishment followed. matters were at times still worse, and the rioting went on to such dangerous lengths as to endanger the safety of the building. on one occasion a disturbance was raised which was not quelled until windows had been broken and forms and tables burnt. the officers were obliged to go in among the prisoners to restore order with drawn cutlasses, but the presence and authority of the governor himself became indispensable. the worst fights occurred on sunday afternoons; but nearly every night the act of locking up became, from the consequent removal of all supervision, the signal for the commencement of obscene talk, revelry, and violence. other regulations laid down by the gaol acts were still defied. one of these was that prisoners should be restricted to the gaol allowance of food; but all could still obtain as much extra, and of a luxurious kind, as their friends chose to bring them in. visitors were still permitted to come with supplies on given days of the week, about the only limitation being that the food should be cooked, and cold; hot meat, poultry, and fish were also forbidden. but the inspectors found in the ward cupboards mince-pies and other pasties, cold joints, hams, and so forth. many other articles were introduced by visitors, including money, tobacco, pipes, and snuff. from the same source came the two or three strong files which the inspectors found in one ward, together with four bradawls, several large iron spikes, screws, nails, and knives; "all of them instruments calculated to facilitate attempts at breaking out of prison, and capable of becoming most dangerous weapons in the hands of desperate and determined men." the nearly indiscriminate admission of visitors, although restricted to certain days, continued to be an unmixed evil. the untried might see their friends three times a week, the convicted only once. on these occasions precautions were supposed to be taken to exclude bad characters, yet many persons of notoriously loose life continually obtained egress. women saw men if they merely pretended to be wives; even boys were visited by their sweethearts. decency was, however, insured by a line of demarcation, and visitors were kept upon each side of a separated double iron railing. but no search was made to intercept prohibited articles at the gate, and there was no permanent gate-keeper, which would have greatly helped to keep out bad characters. some idea of the difficulty and inconvenience of these lax regulations as regards visiting, may be gathered from the statement that as many as three hundred were often admitted on the same day--enough to altogether upset what small show of decorum and discipline was still preserved in the prison. perhaps the worst feature of the visiting system was the permission accorded to male prisoners "under the name of husbands, brothers, and sons" to have access to the female side on sundays and wednesdays, in order to visit their supposed relations there. on this female side, where the ladies' association still reigned supreme, more system and a greater semblance of decorum was maintained. but there were evils akin to those on the male side, prominent amongst which was the undue influence accorded to prisoners. a female prisoner kept the registers. wards-women were allowed much the same authority, with the same temptations to excess, and intoxication was not unknown among them and others. the clothing was still meagre and ragged: the washing places insufficient, and wanting in decency; in some yards the pump was the only provision, and this in a place within sight of visitors, of the windows of the male turnkeys, and unprotected from the weather. there was the same crowding in the sleeping arrangements as on the male side; the same scarcity of bedding. it was a special evil of this part of the prison, that the devotional exercises, originally so profitable, had grown into a kind of edifying spectacle, which numbers of well-meaning but inquisitive people were anxious to witness. thus, when the inspectors visited there were twenty-three strangers, and only twenty-eight prisoners. the presence of so many strangers, many of them gentlemen, distracted the prisoners' attention, and could not be productive of much good. the separation of the sexes was not indeed rigidly carried out in newgate as yet. we have seen that male prisoners visited their female relations and friends on the female side. besides this, the gatesman who prepared the briefs had interviews with female prisoners alone while taking their instructions; a female came alone and unaccompanied by a matron to clean the governor's office in the male prison; male prisoners carried coal into the female prison, when they saw and could speak or pass letters to the female prisoners; and the men could also at any time go for tea, coffee, and sugar to mrs. brown's shop, which was inside the female gate. in the bail-dock, where most improper general association was permitted, the female prisoners were often altogether in the charge of male turnkeys. the governor was also personally responsible for gross contravention of this rule of separation, and was in the habit of drawing frequently upon the female prison for prisoners to act as domestic servants in his own private dwelling. some member of the ladies' association observed and commented upon the fact that a "young rosy-cheeked girl" had been kept by the governor from transportation, while older women in infirm health were sent across the seas. his excuse was that he had given the girl his promise that she should not go, an assumption of prerogative which by no means rested with him; but he afterwards admitted that the girl had been recommended to him by the principal turnkey, who knew something of her friends. this woman was really his servant, employed to help in cleaning, and taken on whenever there was extra work to be done. the governor had a great dislike, he said, to seeing strangers in his house. this girl had been first engaged on account of the extra work entailed by certain prisoners committed by the house of commons, who had been lodged in the governor's own house. the house at this time was full of men and visitors; waiters came in from the taverns with meals. some of the prisoners had their valets, and all these were constantly in and out of the kitchen where this female prisoner was employed. there was revelling and roystering, as usual, with "high life below-stairs." the governor sent down wine on festive occasions, of which no doubt the prisoner housemaid had her share. it can hardly be denied that the governor, in his treatment of this woman, was acting in flagrant contravention of all rules. eighteen years had elapsed since the formation of the "ladies' association," and mrs. fry with her colleagues still laboured assiduously in newgate, devoting themselves mainly to the female prison, although their ministrations were occasionally extended to the male side. the inspectors paid tribute to the excellence of the motives of these philanthropic ladies, and recognized the good they did. they had introduced "much order and cleanliness," had provided work for those who had hitherto passed their time in total idleness, and had made the treatment of female transports on the way to new south wales their especial care. they had tried, moreover, by their presence and their pious, disinterested efforts, to restrain the dissolute manners and vicious language of the unhappy and depraved inmates. but it was already plain that they constituted an independent authority within the gaols; they were frequently in conflict with the chaplain, who not strangely resented the orders issued by the aldermen, that women should be frequently kept from chapel in order that they might attend the ladies' lectures and exhortations. the admission of a crowd of visitors to assist in these lay services has already been remarked upon; as the inspectors pointed out, it had the bad effect of distracting attention, it tended to "dissipate reflection, diminish the gloom of the prison, and mitigate the punishment which the law has sentenced the prisoner to undergo." it is to be feared too that although the surface was thus whitewashed and decorous, much that was vicious still festered and rankled beneath, and that when the restraining influences of the ladies were absent, the female prisoners relapsed into immoral and uncleanly discourse. even in the daytime, when supervision was withdrawn, "the language used to be dreadful," says one of the women when under examination; "swearing and talking of what crimes they had committed, and how they had done it." another witness declared she had heard the most shocking language in the yard; she said "she had never witnessed such scenes before, and hopes she never shall again--it was dreadful!" after locking-up time, which varied, as on the male side, according to the daylight, the scenes were often riotous and disgraceful. the poor, who could afford no luxuries, went to bed early, but were kept awake by the revelries of the rich, who supped royally on the supplies provided from outside, and kept it up till ten or eleven o'clock. there were frequent quarrels and fights; shoes and other missiles were freely bandied about; and with all this "the most dreadful oaths, the worst language, too bad to be repeated," were made use of every night. bad as were the various parts of the gaol already dealt with, there still remained one where the general callous indifference and mismanagement culminated in cruel culpable neglect. the condition of the capitally-convicted prisoners after sentence was still very disgraceful. the side they occupied, still known as the press-yard, consisted of two dozen rooms and fifteen cells. in these various chambers, until just before the inspectors made their report, all classes of the condemned, those certain to suffer, and the larger number who were nearly certain of a reprieve, were jumbled up together, higgledy-piggledy, the old and the young, the murderer and the child who had broken into a dwelling.[ ] all privacy was impossible under the circumstances. at times the numbers congregated together were very great; as many as fifty and sixty, even more, were crowded indiscriminately into the press-yard. the better-disposed complained bitterly of what they had to endure; one man declared that the language of the condemned rooms was disgusting, that he was dying a death every day in being compelled to associate with such characters. in the midst of the noisy and blasphemous talk no one could pursue his meditations; any who tried to pray became the sport and ridicule of his brutal fellows. owing to the repeated entreaties of the criminals who could hardly hope to escape the gallows, some show of classification was carried out, and when the inspectors visited newgate they found the three certain to die in a day-room by themselves; in a second room were fourteen more who had every hope of a reprieve. the whole of these seventeen had, however, a common airing-yard, and took their exercise there at the same time, so that men in the most awful situation, daily expecting to be hanged, were associated continually with a number of those who could look with certainty on a mitigation of punishment. the latter, light-hearted and reckless, conducted themselves in the most unseemly fashion, and "with as much indifference as the inmates of the other parts of the prison." they amused themselves after their own fashion; played all day long at blind-man's-buff and leap-frog, or beat each other with a knotted handkerchief, laughing and uproarious, utterly unmindful of the companionship of men upon whom lay the shadow of an impending shameful death. "men whose cases were dangerous, and those most seriously inclined, complained of these annoyances," so subversive of meditation, so disturbing to the thoughts; they suffered sickening anxiety, and wished to be locked up alone. this indiscriminate association lasted for months, during the whole of which time the unhappy convicts who had but little hope of commutation were exposed to the mockery of their reckless associates. the brutal callousness of the bulk of the inmates of the press-yard may be gathered from the prison punishment-book, which frequently recorded such entries as the following: "benjamin vines and daniel ward put in irons for two days for breaking the windows of the day room in the condemned cells." "joseph coleman put in irons for three days for striking one of the prisoners," in the same place. there were disputes and quarrels constantly among these doomed men; it was a word and blow, an argument clenched always with a fight. the more peaceably disposed found some occupation in making newgate tokens, leaden hearts,[ ] and "grinding the impressions off penny-pieces, then pricking figures or words on them to give to their friends as memorials." turnkeys occasionally visited the press-yard, but its occupants were under little or no control. the chaplain, who might have been expected to make these men his peculiar care, and who at one time had visited them frequently, often several times a week, had relaxed his efforts, because, according to his own account, he was so frequently stopped in the performance of his duties. in his evidence before the inspectors he declared that "for years he gave his whole time to his duties, from an early hour in the morning till late in the afternoon. he left off because he was so much interfered with and laughed at, and from seeing that no success attended his efforts, owing to the evils arising from association." latterly his ministrations to the condemned had been restricted to a visit on sunday afternoons, and occasionally about once a fortnight on a week-day. it is only fair to mr. cotton to add that, according to his own journal, he was unremitting in his attentions to convicts who were actually cast for death, and the day of whose execution was fixed. he had no doubt a difficult mission to discharge; on the one hand, the ladies' association, supported and encouraged by public approval, trenched upon his peculiar province; on the other, the governor of the gaol sneered at his zeal, stigmatized his often most just strictures on abuses as "a bundle of nonsense," and the aldermen, when he appealed to them for protection and countenance, generally sided with his opponents. nevertheless the inspectors summed up against him. while admitting that he had had many difficulties to contend with, and that he had again and again protested against the obstacles thrown in his way, the inspectors "cannot forbear expressing their opinion that he might have shown greater perseverance, in the face of impediments confessedly discouraging," as regards the private teaching of prisoners; and they went on to say that "a resolved adherence, in spite of discouragements the most disheartening, to that line of conduct which his duty imposed on him, would, it is probable, have eventually overcome the reluctance of some of the prisoners at least, and would have possessed so much moral dignity as effectually to rebuke and abash the profane spirit of the more insolent and daring of the criminals." the lax discipline maintained in newgate was still further deteriorated by the presence of two other classes of prisoners who ought never to have been inmates of such a gaol. one of these were the criminal lunatics, who were at this time and for long previous continuously imprisoned there. as the law stood since the passing of the th geo. iv. c. , any two justices might remove a prisoner found to be insane, either on commitment or arraignment, to an asylum, and the secretary of state had the same power as regards any who became insane while undergoing sentence. these powers were not invariably put in force, and there were in consequence many unhappy lunatics in newgate and other gaols, whose proper place was the asylum. at the time the lords' committee sat there were eight thus retained in newgate, and a return in the appendix of the lords' report gives a total of thirty-nine lunatics confined in various gaols, many of them guilty of murder and other serious crimes. the inspectors in the following year, on examining the facts, found that some of these poor creatures had been in confinement for long periods: at newgate and york castle as long as five years; "at ilchester and morpeth for seven years; at warwick for eight years, at buckingham and hereford for eleven years, at appleby for thirteen years, at anglesea for fifteen years, at exeter for sixteen years, and at pembroke for not less a period than twenty-four years." it was manifestly wrong that such persons, "visited by the most awful of calamities," should be detained in a common prison. not only did their presence tend greatly to interfere with the discipline of the prison, but their condition was deplorable in the extreme. the lunatic became the sport of the idle and the depraved. his cure was out of the question; he was placed in a situation "beyond all others calculated to confirm his malady and prolong his sufferings." the matter was still further complicated at newgate by the presence within the walls of sham lunatics. some of those included in the category had actually been returned as sane from the asylum to which they had been sent, and there was always some uncertainty as to who was mad and who not. prisoners indeed were known to boast that they had saved their necks by feigning insanity. it was high time that the unsatisfactory state of the law as regards the treatment of criminal lunatics should be remedied, and not the least of the good services rendered by the new inspectors was their inquiry into the status of these unfortunate people, and their recommendation to improve it. the other inmates of the prison of an exceptional character, and exempted from the regular discipline, such as it was, were the ten persons committed to newgate by the house of commons in . these were the gentlemen concerned in the bribery case at ipswich in , when a petition was presented against the return of messrs. adam dundas and fitzroy kelly. various witnesses, including messrs. j. b. dasent, pilgrim, bond, and clamp, had refused to give evidence before the house of commons' committee; a speaker's warrant was issued for their arrest when they absconded. mr. j. e. sparrow and mr. clipperton, the parliamentary agents of the members whose election was impugned, were implicated in aiding and abetting the others to abscond, and a mr. o'mally, counsel for the two m.p.'s, was also concerned. pilgrim and dasent were caught and given into the custody of the sergeant-at-arms, and the rest were either arrested or they surrendered. a resolution at once passed the house without division to commit the whole to newgate, where they remained for various terms. dasent and pilgrim were released in ten days, on making due submission. o'mally sent in a medical certificate, declaring that the imprisonment was endangering his life, and after some question he was also released. the rest were detained for more than a month, it being considered that they were the most guilty, as being either professional agents, who advised the others to abscond, or witnesses who did not voluntarily come forward when the chance was given them. many of the old customs once prevalent in the state side, so properly condemned and abolished, were revived for the convenience of these gentlemen, whose incarceration was thus rendered as little like imprisonment as possible. a certain number, who could afford the high rate of a guinea per diem, fixed by the under sheriff, were lodged in the governor's house, slept there, and had their meals provided for them from the sessions house or london coffee-house. a few others, who could not afford a payment of more than half a guinea, were permitted to monopolize a part of the prison infirmary, where the upper ward was exclusively appropriated to their use. they also had their meals sent in, and, with the food, wine almost _ad libitum_. a prisoner, one of the wardsmen, waited on those in the infirmary; the occupants of the governor's house had their own servants, or the governor's. as a rule, visitors, many of them persons of good position, came and went all day long, and as late as nine at night; some to the infirmary, many more to the governor's house. there were no restraints, cards and backgammon were played, and the time passed in feasting and revelry. even mr. cope admitted that the committal of this class of prisoners to newgate was most inconvenient, and the inspectors expressed themselves still more strongly in reprehension of the practice. the infirmary at this particular period epitomized the condition of the gaol at large. it was diverted from its proper uses, and, as the "place of the greatest comfort," was allotted to persons who should not have been sent to newgate at all. all the evils of indiscriminate association were strongly accentuated by the crowd collected within its narrow limits. "it may easily be imagined," say the inspectors, in speaking of the prison generally, "what must be the state of discipline in a place filled with characters so various as were assembled there, where the tried and the untried, the sick and the healthy, the sane and the insane, the young and the old, the trivial offender and the man about to suffer the extreme penalty of the law, are all huddled together without discrimination, oversight, or control." enough has probably been extracted from this most damnatory report to give a complete picture of the disgraceful state in which newgate still remained in . the inspectors, however, honestly admitted that although the site of the prison was convenient, its construction was as bad as bad could be. valuable space was cumbered with many long and winding passages, numerous staircases, and unnecessarily thick and cumbrous inner walls. the wards were in some cases spacious, but they were entirely unsuited for separation or the inspection of prisoners. the yards were narrow and confined, mainly because the ground plan was radically vicious. these were evils inseparable from the place. but there were others remediable under a better system of management. more attention to ventilation, which was altogether neglected and inadequate, would have secured a better atmosphere for the unhappy inmates, who constantly breathed an air heavy, and, when the wards were first opened in the morning, particularly offensive. again, the discipline commonly deemed inseparable from every place of durance was entirely wanting. the primary object of committing a prisoner to gaol, as the inspectors pointed out, was to deter not only the criminal himself, but others from crime, and "to dispose him, by meditation and seclusion, to return to an honest life." but at newgate the convicted prisoner, instead of privation and hard fare, "is permitted to purchase whatever his own means or the means of his friends in or out of prison can afford, and he can almost invariably procure the luxuries of his class of life, beer and tobacco, in abundance. instead of seclusion and meditation, his time is passed in the midst of a body of criminals of every class and degree, in riot, debauchery, and gaming, vaunting his own adventures, or listening to those of others; communicating his own skill and aptitude in crime, or acquiring the lessons of greater adepts. he has access to newspapers, and of course prefers that description which are expressly prepared for his own class, and which abound in vulgar adventure in criminal enterprise, and in the histories of the police, the gaol, and the scaffold. he is allowed intercourse with prostitutes who, in nine cases out of ten, have originally conduced to his ruin; and his connection with them is confirmed by that devotion and generosity towards their paramours in adversity for which these otherwise degraded women are remarkable. having thus passed his time, he returns a greater adept in crime, with a wider acquaintance among criminals, and, what perhaps is even more injurious to him, is generally known to all the worst men in the country; not only without the inclination, but almost without the ability of returning to an honest life." these pungent and well-grounded strictures applied with still greater force to the unconvicted prisoner, the man who came to the prison innocent, and still uncontaminated, to be subjected to the same baneful influences, and to suffer the same moral deterioration, whether ultimately convicted or set free. the whole system, or more correctly the want of system, was baneful and pernicious to the last degree. the evils of such association were aggravated by the unbroken idleness; one "evil inflamed the other;" reformation or any kind of moral improvement was impossible; the prisoner's career was inevitably downward, till he struck the lowest depths. "forced and constant intercourse with the most depraved individuals of his own class; the employment of those means and agents by which the lowest passions and the most vulgar propensities of man are perpetually kept in the highest state of excitement--drink, gaming, obscene and blasphemous language; utter idleness, the almost unrestricted admission of money and luxuries; uncontrolled conversation with visitors of the very worst description--prostitutes, thieves, receivers of stolen goods; all the tumultuous and diversified passions and emotions which circumstances like these must necessarily generate, forbid the faintest shadow of a hope that in a soil so unfavourable for moral culture, any awakening truth, salutary exhortation, or imperfect resolutions of amendment can take root or grow." strong as were the foregoing remarks, the inspectors wound up their report in still more trenchant language, framing a terrible indictment against those responsible for the condition of newgate. their words deserve to be quoted in full. "we cannot close these remarks," say the inspectors, "without an expression of the painful feelings with which we submit to your lordship[ ] this picture of the existing state of newgate. that in this vast metropolis, the centre of wealth, civilization, and information; distinguished as the seat of religion, worth, and philanthropy, where is to be found in operation every expedient by which ignorance may be superseded by knowledge, idleness by industry, and suffering by benevolence; that in the metropolis of this highly-favoured country, to which the eyes of other lands turn for example, a system of prison discipline such as that enforced in newgate should be for a number of years in undisturbed operation, not only in contempt of religion and humanity, but in opposition to the recorded denunciations of authority, and in defiance of the express enactments of the law, is indeed a subject which cannot but impress every considerate mind with humiliation and sorrow. we trust, however, that the day is at hand when this stain will be removed from the character of the city of london, and when the first municipal authority of our land will be no longer subjected to the reproach of fostering an institution which outrages the rights and feelings of humanity, defeats the ends of justice, and disgraces the profession of a christian country." the publication of this report raised a storm in the city, and the corporation was roused to make an immediate protest. a committee of aldermen was forthwith appointed to report upon the inspectors' report, and the result was another lengthy blue book, printed in the parliamentary papers, , traversing where it was possible the statements of the inspectors, and offering explanation and palliation of such evils as could not be denied. the inspectors retorted without loss of time, reiterating their charges, and pointing out that the committee of aldermen by its own admission justified the original allegations. it was impossible to deny the indiscriminate association; the gambling, drinking, smoking, quarrelling in the gaol; the undue authority given to prisoners, the levying of garnish under another name, the neglect of the condemned convicts, the filthy condition of the wards, the insufficiency of bedding and clothing, the misemployment of officers and prisoners by the governor. the corporation evidently had the worst of it, and began to feel the necessity for undertaking the great work of reform. next year we find the inspectors expressing their satisfaction that "the full and faithful exposure which we felt it our duty to make of newgate has been productive of at least some advantage, inasmuch as it has aroused the attention of those upon whom parliamentary reports and grand jury presentments had hitherto failed to make the slightest impression." the measures of improvement introduced were mainly as follows: the fixing of "inspection holes" in the doors and walls, so as to insure more supervision; of windows opening into the well-holes, to give better light and ventilation; the construction of bed-places, three tiers high alongside the walls for males, two tiers for females; the provision of dining-rooms and dining-tables. the infirmary was enlarged, the admission of visitors limited, and the passing of articles prevented by a wire screen. the windows were to be glazed and painted to prevent prisoners from looking out; baths, fumigating places for clothing, wash-house, and the removal of dust-bins, completed the new arrangements in the main prison. in the press-yard, the press-room and ward above it were parcelled out into nine separate sleeping cells; each was provided with an iron bedstead, and a small desk at which the condemned man might read or write. but the one great and most crying evil remained unremedied. "the mischief of gaol associations," say the inspectors, "which has been demonstrably proved to be the fruitful source of all the abuses and irregularities which have so long disgraced newgate, is not only permitted still to exist in the prison, but is rendered more powerful than before."... in endeavouring to arrest contamination, prisoners were more closely confined, and associated in smaller numbers; but this had the effect of throwing them into closer contact, and of making them more intimately acquainted with, more directly influential upon, one another. in the inspectors' fourth report, dated , they return to the charge, and again call the corporation to task for their mismanagement of newgate. abuses and irregularities, which had been partially remedied by the reform introduced in , were once more in the ascendant. "in our late visits," they say, "we have seen manifest indications of a retrograde movement in this respect, and a tendency to return to much of that laxity and remissness which formerly marked the management of this prison." again the following year the inspectors repeat their charge. "the prominent evils of this prison (newgate)--evils which the alterations made within the last four years have failed to remove--are the association of prisoners, and the unusual contamination to which such association gives rise. for nearly twenty-two hours out of the twenty-four the prisoners are locked up, during which time no officer is stationed in the ward with them." they go on to say--"newgate is only less extensively injurious than formerly because it is less crowded. the effects of the imprisonment are to vitiate its inmates, to extend their acquaintanceship with each other, to corrupt the prisoner charged with an offence of which he may be innocent, and to confirm in guilt the young and inexperienced offender." the reports as the years flow on reiterate the same complaints. much bitterness of feeling is evidently engendered, and the corporation grows more and more angry with the inspectors. the prison officials appear to be on the side of the inspectors, to the great dissatisfaction of the corporation, who claimed the full allegiance and support of its servants. in a resolution passed by the court of aldermen on th march, , i find it ordered "that the ordinary of newgate be restricted from making any communications to the home office or the inspectors of prisons, and that he be required wholly to confine himself to the performance of his duty as prescribed by act of parliament." the inspectors were not to be deterred, however, by any opposition from the earnest discharge of their functions, and continued to report against newgate. in their tenth report they state that they are compelled by an imperative sense of duty to advert in terms of decided condemnation to the lamentable condition of the prisons of the city of london,--newgate, giltspur st. compter, and the city bridewell,--in which the master evil of gaol association and consequent contamination still continues to operate directly to the encouragement of crime. "the plan adopted for ventilating the dining-room on the 'master's side' and that of the middle yard is very inefficient; it consists of several circular perforations, about two inches in diameter, slanting downwards from the top of the walls to the outside adjoining the slaughter-houses of newgate market; and occasionally, in hot weather, instead of ventilating the apartments, they only serve to convey the offensive effluvia arising from the decaying animal matter into the dining-rooms. sometimes the stench in hot weather is said to be very bad. many rats also come through these so-called ventilators, as they open close to the ground at the back of the prison." at the same time the inspectors animadvert strongly upon the misconduct of prisoners and the frequency of prison punishments, both offences and punishments affording a sufficient index to the practices going forward; and they wind up by declaring that a strict compliance with their duties gave them no choice "but to report matters as we found them, and again and again to protest against newgate as it at present exists." no complete and permanent improvement was indeed possible while newgate remained unchanged. it was not till the erection of the new prison at holloway in , and the entire internal reconstruction of newgate according to new ideas, that the evils so justly complained of and detailed in this chapter were entirely removed. but these are matters which will occupy a later page in my narrative. chapter vi. executions (_continued_). executions not always in front of newgate after discontinuance of tyburn--old bailey by degrees monopolizes the business--description of the new gallows--same system had already been used in dublin--"the fall of the leaf"--last case of burning before newgate--phoebe harris, in --crowds as great as ever at the old bailey, and as brutal as of old--pieman, ballad-monger, and "rope"-seller did a roaring trade--governor wall--his demeanour and dress--enormous crowd at wall's execution--also at that of holloway and haggerty--frightful catastrophe and terrible loss of life in the crowd--the same anticipated at execution of bellingham, but avoided by extreme precautions taken--crowds to see fauntleroy and courvoisier suffer--description of an execution in --the demeanour, generally, of the condemned--long protracted uncertainty as to their fate--awful levity displayed--reasons for delay--the recorder's report--its arrival--communicated to convicts by chaplain--tenderness really shown to those certain to die--chaplain improves the occasion in preaching the condemned sermon--the chapel service on day it was preached described--demeanour of the condemned described in detail--abstract of a condemned sermon--service and returning thanks by the respited the day after the execution--callousness of those present--crowded congregation to hear courvoisier's condemned sermon, and dense throng to see him hanged--amelioration of the criminal code--executions more rare--capital punishment gradually restricted to murderers--dissection of the bodies abolished--some details of dissection--public exhibition of bodies also discontinued--the body of williams, who murdered the marrs, so shown--hanging in chains given up--failures at executions--culprits fight for life--case of charles white, of luigi buranelli, of william bousfield--calcraft and his method of hanging--other hangmen--story of the cost of a hangman. i propose to return now to the subject of newgate executions, which we left at the time of the discontinuance of the long-practised procession to tyburn. the reasons for this change were fully set forth in a previous chapter.[ ] the terrible spectacle was as demoralizing to the public, for whose admonition it was intended, as the exposure was brutal and cruel towards the principal actors. the decision to remove the scene of action to the immediate front of the gaol itself was in the right direction, as making the performance shorter and diminishing the area of display. but the old bailey was not exclusively used; at first, and for some few years after , executions took place occasionally at a distance from newgate. this was partly due to the survival of the old notion that the scene of the crime ought also to witness the retribution; partly perhaps because residents in and about the old bailey raised a loud protest against the constant erection of the scaffold in their neighbourhood. as regards the first, i find that in john hogan, the murderer of a mr. odell, an attorney who resided in charlotte street, rathbone place, was executed on a gibbet in front of his victim's house. lawrence jones, a burglar, was in ordered for execution in hatton garden, near the house he had robbed; and when he evaded the sentence by suicide, his body was exhibited in the same neighbourhood, "extended upon a plank on the top of an open cart, in his clothes, and fettered." again, as late as and , execution dock, on the banks of the thames, was still retained. here john sutherland, commander of the british armed transport 'the friends,' suffered on the th june, , for the murder of his cabin-boy, whom he stabbed after much ill-usage on board the ship as it lay in the tagus. on the th december, , two sailors, charles palm and sam tilling, were hanged at the same place for the murder of their captain, james keith, of the trading vessel 'adventure,' upon the high seas. they were taken in a cart to the place of execution, amidst a vast concourse of people. "palm, as soon as he was seated in the cart, put a quid of tobacco into his mouth, and offered another to his companion, who refused it with indignation.... some indications of pity were offered for the fate of tilling; palm, execration alone."[ ] but the old bailey gradually, and in spite of all objections urged, monopolized the dread business of execution. the first affair of the kind on this spot was on the rd december, , when, in pursuance of an order issued by the recorder to the sheriffs of middlesex and the keeper of his majesty's gaol, newgate, a scaffold was erected in front of that prison for the execution of several convicts named by the recorder. "ten were executed; the scaffold hung with black; and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, having petitioned the sheriffs to remove the scene of execution to the old place, were told that the plan had been well considered, and would be persevered in." the following rd april, it is stated that the malefactors ordered for execution on the th inst. were brought out of newgate about eight in the morning, and suspended on a gallows of a new construction. "after hanging the usual time they were taken down, and the machine cleared away in half-an-hour. by practice the art is much improved, and there is no part of the world in which villains are hanged in so neat a manner, and with so little ceremony." a full description of this new gallows, which was erected in front of the debtors' door, is to be found in contemporary records. "the criminals are not exposed to view till they mount the fatal stage. the last part of the stage, or that next to the gaol, is enclosed by a temporary roof, under which are placed two seats for the reception of the sheriffs, one on each side of the stairs leading to the scaffold. round the north, west, and south sides are erected galleries for the reception of officers, attendants, &c., and at the distance of five feet from the same is fixed a strong railing all round the scaffold to enclose a place for the constables. in the middle of this machinery is placed a movable platform, in form of a trap-door, ten feet long by eight wide, on the middle of which is placed the gibbet, extending from the gaol across the old bailey. this movable platform is raised six inches higher than the rest of the scaffold, and on it the convicts stand; it is supported by two beams, which are held in their place by bolts. the movement of the lever withdraws the bolts, the platform falls in;" and this, being much more sudden and regular than that of a cart being drawn away, has the effect of immediate death. a broadsheet dated april th, ,[ ] describing an execution on the newly-invented scaffold before the debtors' door, newgate, says, "the scaffold on which these miserable people suffered is a temporary machine which was drawn out of the yard of the sessions house by horses; ... it is supported by strong posts fixed into grooves made in the street; ... the whole is temporary, being all calculated to take to pieces, which are preserved within the prison." this contrivance appears to have been copied with improvements from that which had been used in dublin at a still earlier date, for that city claims the priority in establishing the custom of hanging criminals at the gaol itself. the dublin "engine of death," as the gallows are styled in the account from which the following description is taken, consisted of an iron bar parallel to the prison wall, and about four feet from it, but strongly affixed thereto with iron scroll clamps. "from this bar hang several iron loops, in which the halters are tied. under this bar at a proper distance is a piece of flooring or platform, projecting somewhat beyond the range of the iron bar, and swinging upon hinges affixed to the wall. the entrance upon this floor or leaf is from the middle window over the gate of the prison; and this floor is supported below, while the criminals stand upon it, by two pieces of timber, which are made to slide in and out of the prison wall through apertures made for that purpose. when the criminals are tied up and prepared for their fate, this floor suddenly falls down, upon withdrawing the supporters inwards. they are both drawn at once by a windlass, and the unhappy culprits remain suspended." this mode of execution, it is alleged, gave rise to the old vulgar "chaff," "take care, or you'll die at the fall of the leaf." the machinery in use in dublin is much the same as that employed at many gaols now-a-days. but the fall apart and inwards of two leaves is considered superior. the latter is the method still followed at newgate. the sentences inflicted in front of newgate were not limited to hanging. in the few years which elapsed between the establishment of the gallows at newgate and the abolition of the practice of burning females for petty treason, more than one woman suffered this penalty at the old bailey. one case is preserved by catnach, that of phoebe harris, who in was "barbariously" (_sic_ in the broadsheet) executed and burnt before newgate for coining. she is described as a well-made little woman, something more than thirty years of age, of a pale complexion and not disagreeable features. "when she came out of prison she appeared languid and terrified, and trembled greatly as she advanced to the stake, where the apparatus for the punishment she was about to experience seemed to strike her mind with horror and consternation, to the exclusion of all power of recollectedness in preparation for the approaching awful moment." she walked from the debtors' door to a stake fixed in the ground about half-way between the scaffold and newgate street. she was immediately tied by the neck to an iron bolt fixed near the top of the stake, and after praying fervently for a few minutes, the steps on which she stood were drawn away, and she was left suspended. a chain fastened by nails to the stake was then put round her body by the executioner with his assistants. two cart-loads of faggots were piled about her, and after she had hung for half-an-hour the fire was kindled. the flames presently burned the halter, the body fell a few inches, and hung then by the iron chain. the fire had not quite burnt out at twelve, in nearly four hours, that is to say. "a great concourse of people attended on this melancholy occasion." the change from tyburn to the old bailey had worked no improvement as regards the gathering together of the crowd or its demeanour. as many spectators as ever thronged to see the dreadful show, and they were packed into a more limited space, disporting themselves as heretofore by brutal horse-play, coarse jests, and frantic yells. it was still the custom to offer warm encouragement or bitter disapproval, according to the character and antecedents of the sufferer. the highwayman, whose exploits many in the crowd admired or emulated, was cheered and bidden to die game; the man of better birth could hope for no sympathy, whatever his crime. at the execution of governor wall, in , the furious hatred of the mob was plainly apparent in their appalling cries. his appearance on the scaffold was the signal for three prolonged shouts from an innumerable populace, "the brutal effusion of one common sentiment." it was said that so large a crowd had never collected since the execution of mrs. brownrigg, nor had the public indignation risen so high. pieman and ballad-monger did their usual roaring trade amidst the dense throng. no sooner was the "job" finished than half-a-dozen competitors appeared, each offering the identical rope for sale at a shilling an inch. one was the "yeoman of the halter," a newgate official, the executioner's assistant, whom mr. j. t. smith,[ ] who was present at the execution, describes as "a most diabolical-looking little wretch--jack ketch's head man." the yeoman was, however, under-sold by his wife, "rosy emma," exuberant in talk and hissing hot from pie corner, where she had taken her morning dose of gin-and-bitters.[ ] a little further off, says mr. smith, was "a lath of a fellow past three-score years and ten, who had just arrived from the purlieus of black boy alley, woebegone as romeo's apothecary, exclaiming, 'here's the identical rope at sixpence an inch.'" mr. smith's account of the condemned convict, whose cell he was permitted to enter, may be inserted here. he was introduced by the ordinary, dr. forde, a name familiar to the reader,[ ] who met him at the felons' door "in his canonicals, and with his head as stiffly erect as a sheriff's coachman." the ordinary "gravely uttered, 'come this way, mr. smith.' as we crossed the press yard a cock crew, and the solitary clanking of a restless chain was dreadfully horrible. the prisoners had not risen." they entered a "stone cold room," and were presently joined by the prisoner. "he was death's counterfeit, tall, shrivelled, and pale; and his soul shot out so piercingly through the port-holes of his head, that the first glance of him nearly petrified me.... his hands were clasped, and he was truly penitent. after the yeoman had requested him to stand up, 'he pinioned him,' as the newgate phrase is, and tied the cord with so little feeling that the governor (wall), who had not given the wretch his accustomed fee, observed, 'you have tied me very tight,' upon which dr. forde ordered him to slacken the cord, which he did, but not without muttering. 'thank you, sir,' said the governor to the doctor, 'it is of little moment.' he then made some observations to the attendant about the fire, and turning to the doctor, questioned him. 'do tell me, sir; i am informed i shall go down with great force; is it so?' after the construction and action of the machine had been explained, the doctor asked the governor what kind of men he had commanded at goree, where the murder for which he was condemned had been committed. 'sir,' he answered, 'they sent me the very riff-raff.' the poor soul then joined the doctor in prayer, and never did i witness more contrition at any condemned sermon than he then evinced. the sheriff arrived, attended by his officers, to receive the prisoner from the keeper. a new hat was partly flattened on his head, for, owing to its being too small in the crown, it stood many inches too high behind. as we were crossing the press yard, the dreadful execrations of some of the felons so shook his frame that he observed 'the clock had struck;' and quickening his pace, he soon arrived at the room where the sheriff was to give a receipt for his body, according to the usual custom. before the colonel[ ] had been pinioned he had pulled out two white handkerchiefs, one of which he bound over his temples so as nearly to conceal his eyes, the other he kept between his hands. over the handkerchief around his brows he placed a white cap, the new hat being on top of all. he was dressed in a mixed-coloured loose coat with a black collar, swandown waistcoat, blue pantaloons, and white silk stockings. thus apparelled he ascended the stairs at the debtors' door, and stepped out on to the platform, to be received, as has been said, by prolonged yells. these evidently deprived him of the small portion of fortitude he had summoned up. he bowed his head under extreme pressure of ignominy, and at his request the ordinary drew the cap further down over his face, when in an instant, without waiting for any signal, the platform dropped, and he was launched into eternity." whenever the public attention had been specially called to a particular crime, either on account of its atrocity, the doubtfulness of the issue, or the superior position of the perpetrator, the attendance at the execution was certain to be tumultuous, and the conduct of the mob disorderly. this was notably the case at the execution of holloway and haggerty in , an event long remembered from the fatal and disastrous consequences which followed it. they were accused by a confederate, who, goaded by conscience, had turned approver, of the murder of a mr. steele, who kept a lavender warehouse in the city, and who had gardens at feltham, whither he often went to distil the lavender, returning to london the same evening. one night he was missing, and after a long interval his dead body was discovered, shockingly disfigured, in a ditch. this was in . four years passed without the detection of the murderers, but in the beginning of one of them, at that time just sentenced to transportation, made a full confession, and implicated holloway and haggerty. they were accordingly apprehended and brought to trial, the informer, hanfield by name, being accepted as king's evidence. conviction followed mainly on his testimony; but the two men, especially holloway, stoutly maintained their innocence to the last. very great excitement prevailed in the town throughout the trial, and this greatly increased when the verdict was known. an enormous crowd assembled to witness the execution, amounting, it was said, to the hitherto unparalleled number of , . by eight o'clock not an inch of ground in front of the platform was unoccupied. the pressure soon became so frightful that many would have willingly escaped from the crowd; but their attempts only increased the general confusion. very soon women began to scream with terror; some, especially of low stature, found it difficult to remain standing, and several, although held up for some time by the men nearest them, presently fell, and were at once trampled to death. cries of murder! murder! were now raised, and added greatly to the horrors of the scene. panic became general. more women, children, and many men were borne down, to perish beneath the feet of the rest. the most affecting and distressing scene was at green arbour lane, just opposite the debtors' door of the prison. here a couple of piemen had been selling their wares; the basket of one of them, which was raised upon a four-legged stool, was upset. the pieman stooped down to pick up his scattered stock, and some of the mob, not seeing what had happened, stumbled over him. no one who fell ever rose again. among the rest was a woman with an infant at the breast. she was killed, but in the act of falling she forced her child into the arms of a man near her, and implored him in god's name to save it; the man, needing all his care for his own life, threw the child from him, and it passed along the heads of the crowd, to be caught at last by a person who struggled with it to a cart and deposited it there in safety. in another part seven persons met their death by suffocation. in this convulsive struggle for bare existence people fought fiercely with one another, and the weakest, of course the women, went under. one cart-load of spectators having broken down, some of its occupants fell off the vehicle, and were instantly trampled to death. this went on for more than an hour, and until the malefactors were cut down and the gallows removed; then the mob began to thin, and the streets were cleared by the city marshals and a number of constables. the catastrophe exceeded the worst anticipations. nearly one hundred dead and dying lay about; and after all had been removed, the bodies for identification, the wounded to hospitals, a cart-load of shoes, hats, petticoats, and fragments of wearing apparel were picked up. st. bartholomew's hospital was converted into an impromptu _morgue_, and all persons who had relatives missing were admitted to identify them. among the dead was a sailor lad whom no one knew; he had his pockets filled with bread and cheese, and it was generally supposed that he had come a long distance to see the fatal show. [illustration: bellingham, who murdered mr. spencer percival.] a tremendous crowd assembled when bellingham was executed in for the murder of spencer percival, at that time prime minister; but there were no serious accidents, beyond those caused by the goring of a maddened, over-driven ox which forced its way through the crowd. precautions had been taken by the erection of barriers, and the posting of placards at all the avenues to the old bailey, on which was printed, "beware of entering the crowd! remember thirty poor persons were pressed to death by the crowd when haggerty and holloway were executed!" the concourse was very great, notwithstanding these warnings. it was still greater at fauntleroy's execution in , when no less than , persons assembled, it was said. every window and roof which could command a view of the horrible performance was occupied. all the avenues and approaches, places even whence nothing whatever could be seen of the scaffold, were blocked by persons who had overflowed from the area in front of the gaol. at courvoisier's execution in it was the same, or worse. as early as six a.m. the number assembled already exceeded that seen on ordinary occasions; by seven a.m. the whole space was so thronged that it was impossible to move one way or the other. some persons were kept for more than five hours standing against the barriers, and many nearly fainted from exhaustion. every window had its party of occupants; the adjoining roofs were equally crowded. high prices were asked and paid for front seats or good standing room. as much as £ was given for the attic story of the lamb's coffee house; £ was a common price for a window. at the george public-house to the south of the drop, sir w. watkin wynn, bart., hired a room for the night and morning, which he and a large party of friends occupied before and during the execution; in an adjoining house, that of an undertaker, was lord alfred paget, also with several friends. those who had hired apartments spent the night in them, keeping up their courage with liquids and cigars. numbers of ladies were present, although the public feeling was much against their attendance. one well-dressed woman fell out of a first-floor window on to the shoulders of the crowd below, but neither she nor any one else was greatly hurt. the city authorities had endeavoured to take all precautions against panic and excitement among the crowd, and caused a number of stout additional barriers to be erected in front of the scaffold, and although one of these gave way owing to the extraordinary pressure, no serious accident occurred. some years later an eye-witness published a graphic account of one of these scenes.[ ] soon after midnight on the sunday night, for by this time the present practice of executing on monday morning had been pretty generally introduced, the crowd began to congregate in and about the old bailey. gin-shops and coffee-houses were the first to open doors, and touts began to bid for tenants for the various rooms upstairs. cries of "comfortable room!" "excellent situation!" "beautiful prospect!" "splendid view!" resounded on every side. by this time the workmen might be heard busily erecting the gallows; the sounds of hammer and saw intermingled with the broad jeers and coarse jests of the rapidly increasing mob. one by one the huge uprights of black timber were fitted together, until presently the huge stage loomed dark above the crowd which was now ranged round the barriers; a throng of people whom neither rain, snow, storm, nor darkness ever hindered from attending the show. they were mainly members of the criminal [illustration: preparing for an execution.] classes; their conversation was of companions and associates of former years, long ago imprisoned, transported, hanged, while they, hoary-headed and hardened in guilt, were still at large. they talked of the days when the convicts were hung up a dozen or more in a row; of those who had shown the white, and those who had died game. the approaching ceremony had evidently no terrors for these "idolaters of the gallows." with them were younger men and women: the former already vowed to the same criminal career, and looking up to their elders with the respect due to successful practitioners; the latter unsexed and brutalized by dissipation, slipshod and slovenly, in crushed bonnet and dirty shawl, the gown fastened by a single hook, their harsh and half-cracked voices full of maudlin, besotted sympathy for those about to die. "above the murmur and tumult of that noisy assembly, the lowing and bleating of cattle as they were driven into the stalls and pens of smithfield fell with a strange unnatural sound upon the ear.... hush! the unceasing murmur of the mob now breaks into a loud deep roar, a sound as if the ocean had suddenly broken through some ancient boundary, against which its ever restless billows had for ages battered; the wide dark sea of heads is all at once in motion; each wave seems trying to overleap the other as they are drawn onwards towards this outlet. every link in that great human chain is shaken, along the whole lengthened line has the motion jarred, and each in turn sees, coiled up on the floor of the scaffold like a serpent, the hangman's rope! the human hand that placed it there was only seen for a moment, as it lay, white and ghastly, upon the black boards, and then again was as suddenly withdrawn, as if ashamed of the deed it had done. the loud shout of the multitude once more subsided, or only fell upon the abstracted ear like the dreamy murmur of an ocean shell. then followed sounds more distinct and audible, in which ginger-beer, pies, fried fish, sandwiches, and fruit were vended under the names of notorious murderers, highwaymen, and criminals, famous in the annals of newgate for the hardihood they had displayed in the hour of execution, when they terminated their career of crime at the gallows. threading his way among these itinerant vendors was seen the meek-faced deliverer of tracts, the man of good intentions, now bonneted, now laughed at, the skirt of his seedy black coat torn across; yet, though pulled right and left, or sent headlong into the crowd by the swing of some brutal and muscular arm, never once from that pale face passed away its benign and patient expression, but ever the same form moved along in the fulfilment of his mission, in spite of all persecution. another fight followed the score which had already taken place; this time two women were the combatants. blinded with their long hair, they tore at each other like two furies; their bonnets and caps were trodden underfoot in the kennel, and lay disregarded beside the body of the poor dog which, while searching for its master in the crowd, was an hour before kicked to death by the savage and brutal mob. "another deep roar, louder than any which had preceded it, broke from the multitude. then came the cry of 'hats off!' and 'down in front!' as at a theatre. it was followed by the deep and solemn booming of the death-bell from the church of st. sepulchre--the iron knell that rang upon the beating heart of the living man who was about to die; and with blanched cheek, and sinking, we turned away from the scene." in thus describing the saturnalia before the gallows i have been drawn on somewhat beyond the period with which i am at present dealing. let me retrace my steps, and speak more in detail of the treatment of the condemned in those bloodthirsty and brutally indifferent days, and of their demeanour after sentence until the last penalty was paid. one of the worst evils was the terrible and long-protracted uncertainty as to the result. in the case of convicted murderers only was prompt punishment inflicted, and with them indeed this despatch amounted to undue precipitancy. forty-eight hours was the limit of time allowed to the unhappy man to make his peace, and during that time he was still kept on a bare allowance of bread and water. but the murderers formed only a small proportion of the total number sentenced to death, and for the rest there was a long period of anxious suspense, although in the long run mercy generally prevailed, and very few capitally convicted for crimes less than murder actually suffered. thus in the years between may st, , and th april, , no less than four hundred and fifty-one sentences of death for capital crimes were passed at the old bailey; but of these three hundred and ninety-six were reversed by the king in council, and only fifty-two were really executed. already the severity of our criminal code, and the number of capital felonies upon the statute book, had brought a reaction; and while the courts adhered to the letter of the law, appeals were constantly made to the royal prerogative of mercy. this was more particularly the practice in london. judges on assize were satisfied with simply recording a sentence of death against offenders whom they did not think deserved the extreme penalty. at the old bailey almost every one capitally convicted by a jury was sentenced to be hanged. the result in the latter case was left in the first place to the king in council, but there was a further appeal then, as now, to the king himself, or practically to the home secretary. neither in town or country were cases entirely taken on their own merits. convicted offenders might have good or bad luck; they might be arraigned when their particular crime was uncommon, and were then nearly certain to escape; or theirs might be one of many, and it might be considered necessary to "make an example." in this latter it might fairly be said that a man was put to death less for his own sins than for the crimes of others. the absurdity of the system, its irregularity and cruelty, were fully touched upon by the inspectors of prisons in their first report. they found at newgate, under disgraceful conditions as already described,[ ] seventeen capital convicts, upon all of whom the sentence of death had been passed. eventually two only of the whole number suffered; two others were sentenced to three months' imprisonment, and the balance to varying terms. nothing could be more strongly marked than the contrast between the ultimate destiny of different individuals all abiding the same awful doom: on the one hand the gallows, on the other a short imprisonment. the inspectors very properly desired to call attention to the inevitable tendency in this mode of dealing with "the most awful sanctions of the law," to make those sanctions an object of contemptuous mockery. the consequences were plainly proved to the inspectors. capitally convicted prisoners did, as a matter of fact, "treat with habitual and inexpressible levity the sentence of death." of this i have treated at length in the last chapter. the time thus spent varied considerably, but it was seldom less than six weeks. it all depended upon the sovereign's disposition to do business. sometimes the privy council did not meet for months, and during all that time the convicts languished with hope nearly indefinitely deferred. when the council had decided, the news was conveyed to newgate by the recorder, who made his "report," as it was called. the time of the arrival of this report was generally known at newgate, and its contents were anxiously awaited by both convicts in the press-yard and their friends collected in a crowd outside the gates. sometimes the report was delayed. on one occasion, mr. wakefield tells us, the recorder, who had attended the council at windsor, did not deliver the report till the following day. "the prisoners and their friends, therefore, were kept in a state of the most violent suspense for many hours, during which they counted the moments--the prisoners in their cells as usual, and their friends in the street in front of newgate, where they passed the night. i have heard the protracted agony of both classes described by those who witnessed it in terms so strong, that i am unwilling to repeat them."...[ ] "the crowd of men and women who passed the night in front of newgate, began, as soon as the hour was passed when they had expected the report, to utter imprecations against the recorder, the secretary of state, the council, and the king; they never ceased cursing until the passion of anger so excited was exchanged for joy in some and grief in others. i myself heard more than one of those whose lives were spared by that decision of the council, afterwards express a wish to murder the recorder for having kept them so long in suspense." the recorder's report generally reached newgate late at night. its receipt was immediately followed by the promulgation of its contents to the persons most closely concerned, which was done with a sort of ceremony intended to be impressive. the whole of the convicts were assembled together in one ward, and made to kneel down. to them entered the chaplain or ordinary of newgate in full canonicals, who in solemn tones communicated to each in turn the fate in store for him. the form of imparting the intelligence was generally the same. "so-and-so, i am sorry to tell you that it is all against you;" or, "a. b., your case has been taken into consideration by the king in council, and his majesty has been mercifully pleased to spare your life." the fatal news was not always received in the same way. the men who were doomed often fell down in convulsions upon the floor. sometimes any who had had a narrow escape fainted, but the bulk of those respited looked on with unfeeling indifference. the concluding part of the ceremony was, for those who had been pardoned, to recite a thanksgiving to god and the king. it is satisfactory to be able to record that some consideration was shown the capital convict actually awaiting execution. even so severe a critic as mr. wakefield states that "a stranger to the scene would be astonished to observe the peculiar tenderness, i was going to add respect, which persons under sentence of death obtain from all the officers of the prison. before sentence a prisoner has only to observe the regulations of the gaol in order to remain neglected and unnoticed. once ordered to the cells, friends of all classes suddenly rise up; his fellow-prisoners, the turnkeys, the chaplain, the keepers, and the sheriffs all seem interested in his fate, and he can make no reasonable request that is not at once granted by whomsoever he may address. this rule has some, but very few, exceptions; such as where a hardened offender behaves with great levity and brutality, as if he cared nought for his life, and thought every one anxious to promote his death." mr. wakefield goes on to remark that persons convicted of forgery "excited an extraordinary degree of interest in all who approached them." this was noticeable with fauntleroy, who, on account of his birth and antecedents, was allowed to occupy a turnkey's room, and kept altogether separate from the other prisoners until the day of his death. it cannot be denied, however, that the ordinary's treatment was somewhat unfeeling, and in proof thereof i will quote an extract from the reverend gentleman's own journal. he seems to have improved the occasion when preaching the condemned sermon before fauntleroy, by pointing a moral from that unhappy man's own case. for this the chaplain was a few days later summoned before the gaol committee of aldermen, and informed that the public would not in future be admitted to hear the condemned sermon. "i was also informed," writes mr. cotton, "that this resolution was in consequence of their (the aldermen's) disapproving of the last discourse delivered by me, previous to the execution of henry fauntleroy for uttering a forged security, in which it was said i had enlarged upon the heinous nature of his crime, and warned the public to avoid such conduct. i was informed that this unnecessarily harassed his feelings, and that the object of such sermons was solely to console the prisoner, and that from the time of his conviction nothing but what is consolatory should be addressed to a criminal. one of the aldermen, moreover, informed me that the whole court of aldermen were unanimous in their opinion on this subject. as to the exclusion of strangers on these occasions, the experience i have had convinces me that one, and perhaps the only, good of an execution, _i. e._ the solemn admonition to the public, will thereby be lost." probably the reader will side with the aldermen against the ordinary. this episode throws some doubt upon the tenderness and proper feeling exhibited by the chaplain towards the most deserving members of his criminal flock; and the idea will be strengthened by the following account of the sunday service in the prison chapel on the occasion when the condemned sermon was preached. the extract is from mr. e. gibbon wakefield's brochure, the date , just three years after fauntleroy's death. strangers were now excluded, but the sheriffs attended in state, wearing their gold chains, while behind their pew stood a couple of tall footmen in state liveries. the sheriffs were in one gallery; in the other opposite were the convicts capitally convicted who had been respited. down below between the galleries was the mass of the prison population; the schoolmaster and the juvenile prisoners being seated round the communion-table, opposite the pulpit. in the centre of the chapel was the condemned pew, a large dock-like erection painted black. those who sat in it were visible to the whole congregation, and still more to the ordinary, whose desk and pulpit were just in front of the condemned pew, and within a couple of yards of it. the occupants of this terrible black pew were the last always to enter the chapel. upon the occasion which i am describing they were four in number; and here i will continue the narrative in mr. wakefield's own words:-- "first is a youth of eighteen, condemned for stealing in a dwelling-house goods valued above five pounds. his features have no felonious cast; ... he steps boldly with head upright, looks to the women's gallery, and smiles. his intention is to pass for a brave fellow, but the attempt fails; he trembles, his knees knock together, and his head droops as he enters the condemned pew. the next convict is clearly and unmistakably a villain. he is a hardened offender, previously cast for life, reprieved, transported to australia, and since returned without pardon. for this offence the punishment is death. he has, however, doubly earned his sentence, and is actually condemned for burglary committed since his arrival in england. his look at the sheriffs and the ordinary is full of scorn and defiance. the third convict is a sheep-stealer, a poor ignorant fellow in whose crime are mitigating circumstances, but who is left to die on the supposition that this is not his first conviction, and still more because a good many sheep have of late been stolen by other people. he is quite content to die; indeed the chaplain and others have brought him firmly to believe that his situation is enviable, and that the gates of heaven are open to receive him." the last of the four is said to have been a clergyman of the church of england,[ ] condemned for forgery, "a miserable old man in a tattered suit of black. already he is half dead. great efforts have been made to save his life. friends, even utter strangers, have interceded for him, and to the last he has buoyed himself up by hope of reprieve. now his doom is sealed irrevocably, and he has given himself up to despair. he staggers towards the pew, reels into it, stumbles forward, flings himself on the ground, and, by a curious twist of the spine, buries his head under his body. the sheriffs shudder, their inquisitive friends crane forward, the keeper frowns on the excited congregation, the lately smirking footmen close their eyes and forget their liveries, the ordinary clasps his hands, the turnkeys cry 'hush!' and the old clerk lifts up his cracked voice, saying, 'let us sing to the praise and glory of god.' "the morning hymn is sung first, as if to remind the condemned that next morning at eight a.m. they are to die. the service proceeds. at last the burial service is reached. the youth alone is able to read, but from long want of practice he is at a loss to find the place in his prayer-book. the ordinary observes him, looks to the sheriffs, and says aloud, 'the service for the dead!' the youth's hands tremble as they hold the book upside down. the burglar is heard to mutter an angry oath. the sheep-stealer smiles, and, extending his arms upwards, looks with a glad expression to the roof of the chapel. the forger has never moved. "let us pass on. all have sung 'the lamentation of a sinner,' and have seemed to pray 'especially for those now awaiting the awful execution of the law.' we come to the sermon. "the ordinary of newgate is an orthodox, unaffected, church of england divine, who preaches plain, homely discourses, as fit as any religious discourse can be fit for the irritated audience. the sermon of this day, whether eloquent or plain, useful or useless, must produce a striking effect at the moment of its delivery. the text, without another word, is enough to raise the wildest passions of the audience.... for a while the preacher addresses himself to the congregation at large, who listen attentively--except the clergyman and the burglar, the former of whom is still rolled up at the bottom of the condemned pew, while the eyes of the latter are wandering round the chapel, and one of them is occasionally winked impudently at some acquaintance amongst the prisoners for trial. at length the ordinary pauses, and then, in a deep tone, which, though hardly above a whisper, is audible to all, says, 'now for you, my poor fellow mortals, who are about to suffer the last penalty of the law.' but why should i repeat the whole? it is enough to say that in the same solemn tone he talks about the minutest of crimes, punishments, bonds, shame, ignominy, sorrow, sufferings, wretchedness, pangs, childless parents, widows and helpless orphans, broken and contrite hearts, and death to-morrow morning for the benefit of society. what happens? the dying men are dreadfully agitated. the young stealer in a dwelling-house no longer has the least pretence to bravery. he grasps the back of the pew, his legs give way, he utters a faint groan, and sinks on the floor. why does no one stir to help him? where would be the use? the hardened burglar moves not, nor does he speak; but his face is of an ashy paleness; and if you look carefully you may see the blood trickling from his lip, which he has bitten unconsciously, or from rage, or to rouse his fainting courage. the poor sheep-stealer is in a frenzy. he throws his hands far from him, and shouts aloud, 'mercy, good lord! mercy is all i ask. the lord in his mercy come! there! there! i see the lamb of god! oh! how happy! oh! this is happy!' meanwhile the clergyman, still bent into the form of a sleeping dog, struggles violently; his feet, legs, hands, and arms, even the muscles of his back, move with a quick, jerking motion, not naturally, but, as it were, like the affected parts of a galvanized corpse. suddenly he utters a short sharp scream, and all is still. "the silence is short. as the ordinary proceeds 'to conclude,' the women set up a yell, which is mixed with a rustling noise, occasioned by the removal of those whose hysterics have ended in fainting. the sheriffs cover their faces, and one of their inquisitive friends blows his nose with his glove. the keeper tries to appear unmoved, but his eye wanders anxiously over the combustible assembly. the children round the communion-table stare and gape with childish wonder. the two masses of prisoners for trial undulate and slightly murmur, while the capital convicts who were lately in that black pew appear faint with emotion. "this exhibition lasts for some minutes, and then the congregation disperses, the condemned returning to the cells: the forger carried by turnkeys; the youth sobbing aloud convulsively, as a passionate child; the burglar muttering curses and savage expressions of defiance; whilst the poor sheep-stealer shakes hands with the turnkeys, whistles merrily, and points upwards with madness in his look." mr. wakefield winds up his graphic but somewhat sensational account by describing another religious service, which may appropriately be inserted here. he says, "on the day of execution there is no service in the chapel of newgate. on the following day the capital convicts, whose companions have been hanged, are required to return thanks for their narrow escape. the firmest disbeliever in religion, if he had not lately been irritated by taking part in such a scene as the condemned service in newgate, could hardly witness this ceremony without being affected. the men, who were so lately snatched from the jaws of death, kneel, whilst the rest of the congregation sit, and the ordinary, in a tone of peculiar solemnity, says, 'almighty god, father of all mercies, we thine unworthy servants do give thee most humble and hearty thanks for all thy goodness and loving-kindness to us, and to all men; _particularly to those who desire now to offer up their praises and thanksgivings for thy late mercies vouchsafed unto them._' could any one, knowing the late situation of the kneeling men, looking as they do at the empty pew, occupied when they saw it last, but a few hours ago, by their comrades who are now dead; could any one, not disgusted with the religious ceremonials of newgate, witness this scene without emotion? hardly any one. but what are the feelings of those who take part in it? i have been present at the scene not less than twenty times, and have invariably observed that many of the kneeling men or boys laughed while they knelt, pinched each other, and, when they could do so without fear of being seen by any officer of the prison, winked at other prisoners in derision of what was taking place; and i have frequently heard men and lads who had been of the kneeling party boast to their companions after the service that they had wiped their eyes during the thanksgiving, to make the ordinary believe they had been crying." although this misapplication of religious services still went on, the outside public continued to be excluded from the newgate chapel on the day the condemned sermon was preached. this very proper rule was, however, set aside on the sunday preceding courvoisier's execution. so many applications for admission were made to the sheriffs, that they reluctantly agreed to open the gallery which had formerly been occupied by strangers on these occasions. cards were issued, and to such an extent, that although the service was not to commence till half-past ten, by nine a.m. all the avenues to the prison gates were blocked by ticket-holders. in spite of the throng, owing to the excellent arrangements made by the sheriffs, no inconvenience was suffered by the congregation, among whom were lord adolphus fitz clarence, lord coventry, lord paget, lord bruce, several members of the house of commons, and a few ladies. contemporary accounts give a minute description of the demeanour of the convict upon this solemn occasion. he sat on a bench before the pulpit,--the hideous condemned pew had been swept away,--and never once raised his eyes during the service. "in fact his looks denoted extreme sorrow and contrition, and he seemed to suffer great inward agitation when the ordinary particularly alluded to the crime for the perpetration of which he stood condemned." mr. carver, the ordinary, appears to have addressed himself directly to courvoisier, and to have dwelt with more emphasis than good taste upon the nature of the crime, and the necessity for repentance. but the chaplain admitted that the solitude of the convict's cell was more appropriate for serious reflection and profitable ministration than "this exciting occasion before a large and public assembly." so far as i can find, courvoisier was the last condemned criminal who was thus exhibited to a crowd of morbidly curious spectators. the atrocity of the murder no doubt attracted extraordinary attention to it. the crowd outside newgate on the day of execution has already been described; but there was also a select gathering of distinguished visitors within the gaol. first came the sheriffs, the under-sheriffs, and several aldermen and city officials, then lord powerscourt and several other peers of the realm. mr. charles kean the tragedian was also present, drawn to this terrible exhibition by the example of his father, the more celebrated edmund kean, who had witnessed the execution of thistlewood "with a view," as he himself said, "to his professional studies." but there is little doubt that as executions became more rare they made more impression on the public mind. already a strong dislike to the reckless and almost indiscriminate application of the extreme penalty was apparent in all classes, and the mitigation of the criminal code, for which romilly had so strenuously laboured, was daily more and more of an accomplished fact. in capital punishment was abolished for forgery, except in cases of forging or altering wills or powers of attorney to transfer stock. nevertheless, after that date no person whatever was executed for this offence. in the same year capital punishment was further restricted, and ceased to be the legal sentence for coining, sheep or horse stealing, and stealing in a dwelling-house. house-breaking, as distinguished from burglary, was similarly exempted in the following year; next, the offences of returning from transportation, stealing post-office letters, and sacrilege were no longer punishable with death. in lord john russell's acts swept away a number of capital offences, including cutting and maiming, rick-burning, robbery, burglary, and arson. within a couple of years the number of persons sentenced to death in england had fallen from four hundred and thirty-eight in to fifty-six in . gradually the application of capital punishment became more and more restricted, and was soon the penalty for murder alone. while in london, for instance, in , twenty-four persons had been executed for crimes other than murder, from to not a single person had been executed in the metropolis except for this the gravest crime. in the death penalty was practically limited to murder or attempts to murder, and in this was accepted as the almost universally established rule. seven other crimes, however, were still capital by law, and so continued till the passing of the criminal consolidation acts of . with the amelioration of the criminal code, other cruel concomitants of execution also disappeared. in the dissection of bodies cut down from the gallows, which had been decreed centuries previously,[ ] was abolished; the most recent enactment in force was the th geo. iv. cap. , which directed the dissection of all bodies of executed murderers, the idea being to intensify the dread of capital punishment. that such dread was not universal or deep-seated may be gathered from the fact that authentic cases were known previous to the first cited act of criminals selling their own bodies to surgeons for dissection. this dissection was carried out for newgate prisoners in surgeons' hall, adjoining newgate, the site of the present sessions house of the old bailey, and the operation was witnessed by students and a number of curious spectators. lord ferrers' body was brought to surgeons' hall after execution in his own carriage and six; after the post mortem had been carried out, the corpse was exposed to view in a first-floor room. pennant speaks of surgeons' hall as a handsome building, ornamented with ionic pilasters, and with a double flight of steps to the first floor. beneath is a door for the admission of the bodies of murderers and other felons. there were other public dissecting rooms for criminals. one was attached to hicks' hall, the clerkenwell sessions house, built out of monies provided by sir baptist hicks, a wealthy alderman of the reign of james i.[ ] persons were still living in who had witnessed dissections at hicks' hall, and "whom the horrid scene, with the additional effect of some noted criminals hanging on the walls, drove out again sick and faint, as we have heard some relate, and with pale and terrified features, to get a breath of air."[ ] the dissection of executed criminals was abolished soon after the discovery of the crime of burking, with the idea that ignominy would no longer attach to an operation which ceased to be compulsory for the most degraded beings; and that executors or persons having lawful possession of the bodies of people who had died friendless, would voluntarily surrender them for the advancement of medical science. another brutal practice had nearly disappeared about the time of the abolition of dissection. this was the public exhibition of the body, as was done in the case of mrs. phipoe, the murderess, who was executed in front of newgate in , and "her body [illustration: exhibition of body of williams.] publicly exhibited in a place built for the purpose in the old bailey." about this time i find that the bodies of two murderers, clench and mackay, "were publicly exposed in a stable in little bridge street, near apothecaries' hall, surgeons' hall being let to the lieutenancy of the county for the accommodation of the militia." in williams, who murdered the marrs in ratcliffe highway,[ ] having committed suicide in gaol to escape hanging, it was determined that a public exhibition should be made of the body through the neighbourhood which had been the scene of the monster's crimes. a long procession was formed, headed by constables, who cleared the way with their staves. then came the newly-formed horse patrol, with drawn cutlasses, parish officers, peace officers, the high constable of the county of middlesex on horseback, and then the body of williams, "extended at full length on an inclined platform erected on the cart, about four feet high at the head, and gradually sloping towards the horse, giving a full view of the body, which was dressed in blue trousers and a blue-and-white striped waistcoat, but without a coat, as when found in the cell. on the left side of the head the fatal mall, and on the right the ripping chisel, with which the murders had been committed, were exposed to view. the countenance of williams was ghastly in the extreme, and the whole had an appearance too horrible for description." the procession traversed ratcliffe twice, halting for a quarter of an hour in front of the victims' dwelling, and was accompanied throughout by "an immense concourse of persons, eager to get a sight of the murderer's remains.... all the shops in the neighbourhood were shut, and the windows and tops of the houses were crowded with spectators." hanging in chains upon the gibbet which had served for the execution, or on another specially erected on some commanding spot, had fallen into disuse by . but there was an attempt to revive it at that date, when the act for dispensing with the dissection of criminals was passed. a clause was inserted to the effect that "the bodies of all prisoners convicted of murder should either be hung in chains, or buried under the gallows on which they had been executed, ... according to the discretion of the court before whom the prisoners might be tried." the revival of this barbarous practice caused much indignation in certain quarters, but it was actually tried in two provincial towns, leicester and durham. at the first-named the exhibition nearly created a tumult, and the body was taken down and buried, but not before the greatest scandal had been caused by the unseemly proceedings of the crowd that flocked to see the sight. a sort of fair was held, gaming-tables were set up, cards were played under the gibbet, to the disturbance of the public peace and the annoyance of all decent people.[ ] at jarrow stake, where the durham murderer's body was exposed, there were similar scenes, mingled with compassion for the culprit's family, and a subscription was set on foot for them then and there at the foot of the gibbet. later on, after dark, some friends of the deceased stole the body and buried it in the sand, and this was the end of hanging in chains. after this a law was passed which prescribed that the bodies of all executed murderers should be buried within the walls of the gaol. although these objectionable practices had disappeared, there were still many shocking incidents at executions, owing to the bungling and unskilful way in which the operation was performed. the rope still broke sometimes, although it was not often that the horrid scene seen at jersey at the beginning of the century was repeated. there the hangman added his weight to that of the suspended culprit, and having first pulled him sideways, then got upon his shoulders, so that the rope broke. "to the great surprise of all who witnessed this dreadful scene, the poor criminal rose straight upon his feet, with the hangman on his shoulders, and immediately loosened the rope with his fingers." after this the sheriffs sent for another rope, but the spectators interfered, and the man was carried back to gaol. the whole case was referred to the king, and the poor wretch, whose crime had been a military one, was eventually pardoned. a somewhat similar event happened at chester not long afterwards; the ropes by which two offenders were turned off broke a few inches from their necks. they were taken back to gaol, and were again brought out in the afternoon, by which time fresh and stronger ropes had been procured, and the sentence was properly and completely carried out. other cases might be quoted, especially that of william snow, _alias_ sketch, who slipped from the gallows at exeter and fell to the ground. he soon rose to his feet, and hearing the sorrowful exclamations of the populace, coolly said, "good people, do not be hurried; i am not, i can wait." similar cases were not wanting as regards the executions before newgate. others were not less horrible, although there was no failure of apparatus. sometimes the condemned man made a hard fight for life. when charles white was executed in for arson, he arranged a handkerchief in such a way that the executioner found a difficulty in pinioning his hands. white managed to keep his wrists asunder, and continued to struggle with the officials for some time. eventually he was pinioned with a cord in the usual manner. on the scaffold he made a violent attempt to loosen his bonds, and succeeded in getting his hands free. then with a strong effort he pushed off the white cap, and tried to liberate his neck from the halter, which by this time had been adjusted. the hangman summoned assistance, and with help tied the cap over white's face with a handkerchief. the miserable wretch during the whole of this time was struggling with the most determined violence, to the great horror of the spectators. still he resisted, and having got from the falling drop to the firm part of the platform, he nearly succeeded in tearing the handkerchief from his eyes. however, the ceremony went forward, and when the signal was given the drop sank. the wretched man did not fall with it, but jumped on to the platform, and seizing the rope with his hands, tried to avoid strangulation. the spectacle was horrible; the convict was half on the platform, half hanging, and the convulsions of his body were appalling. the crowd vociferously yelled their disapproval, and at length the executioner forced the struggling criminal from the platform, so that the rope sustained his whole weight. his face was visible to the whole crowd, and was fearful to behold. even now his sufferings were not at an end, and his death was not compassed until the executioner terminated his sufferings by hanging on to his legs. when luigi buranelli was executed in , through the improper adjustment of the rope his sufferings were prolonged for five minutes; "his chest heaved, and it was evident that his struggle was a fearful one."[ ] a worse case still was that of william bousfield, who, when awaiting execution for murder, about the same date, had attempted to throw himself upon the fire in his condemned cell. he was in consequence so weak when brought out for execution, that he had to be carried by four men, two supporting his body and two his legs. his wretched, abject condition, seated in a chair under the drop, was such as almost to unnerve the executioner calcraft, who bad been further upset by a letter threatening to shoot him when he appeared to perform his task. calcraft, the moment he had adjusted the cap and rope, ran down the steps, drew the bolt, and disappeared. "for a second or two the body hung motionless, then, with a strength that astonished the attendant officials, bousfield slowly drew himself up, and rested with his feet on the right side of the drop. one of the turnkeys rushed forward and pushed him off. again the wretched creature succeeded in obtaining foothold, but this time on the left side of the drop." calcraft was forced to return, and he once more pushed bousfield off, who for the fourth time regained his foothold. again he was repelled, this time calcraft adding his weight to the body, and the strangulation was completed. it was stated in evidence before the commission on capital punishment in , that calcraft's method of hanging was very rough, much the same as if he had been hanging a dog. there has never been much science in the system of carrying out the extreme penalty in this country; the "finisher of the law" has come more by chance than fitness or special education to exercise his loathsome office. calcraft, of whom mention has just been made, was by trade a lady's shoemaker, and before he took to hanging he was employed as a watchman at reid's brewery in liquorpond street. he was at first engaged as assistant to the executioner tom cheshire, but in due course rose to be chief. he was always known as a mild-mannered man of simple tastes, much given to angling in the new river, and a devoted rabbit fancier. he was well known in the neighbourhood where he resided, and the street _gamins_ cried "jack ketch" as he went along the street. while calcraft was in office other aspirants to fame appeared in the field. one was askern, who had been a convicted prisoner at york, but who consented to act as hangman when calcraft was engaged, and no other functionary could be obtained. it was not always easy to hire a hangman. there is still extant a curious petition presented to the treasury by ralph griffith, esq., high sheriff of flintshire, which sets forth that the petitioner had been at great expense by sending clerks and agents to liverpool and shrewsbury to hire an executioner. the man to be hanged belonged to wales, and no welshman would do the job. travelling expenses of these agents cost £ , and another £ were spent in the hire of a shropshire man, who deserted, and was pursued, but without success. another man was hired, himself a convict, whose fees for self and wife were twelve guineas. then came the cost of the gallows, £ _s._; and finally the funeral, cart, coffin, and other petty expenses, amounting to £ _s._, making the whole outlay close on £ . chapter vii. newgate notorieties. diminution in certain kinds of crime--fewer street robberies because people carried less cash about them--corresponding increase in cases of fraud, forgeries, jewel and bullion robberies--great commercial frauds--offences against the person confined to murder and manslaughter, the character of which remained much the same--another crime, that of attempt upon the sovereign--other forms of treason--the cato street conspiracy--thistlewood's history--discovery of the plot--the conspirators' plan--how defeated--their trial at the old bailey--the informer edwards--their sentence and execution--attacks on the sovereign--oxford fires at queen victoria--his attempt due to a craze for notoriety--"young england"--francis--bean--mr. pate--celebrated frauds and forgeries--fauntleroy--the last execution for forgery--captain montgomery--joseph hunton the quaker--richard gifford--maynard--sir robert peel's bill to amend forgery laws--the forgery act--latest cases of abduction--e. gibbon wakefield and miss turner--big "jobs," burglaries and other robberies, still perpetrated--howard robs mr. mullay--strange assault upon mr. gee--thieves prosper through connivance of fences and receivers--ikey solomons--his escape from custody--he leaves the country, but returns, and is eventually sentenced to transportation--large robbery of the custom house--while still undiscovered, robbery of diamonds at the custom house quay--leads to detection of both--the gold-dust robbery in --how discovered--done by jews, who cheat each other all round--a few of the most remarkable murders of this epoch--thurtell, hunt, and probert kill mr. weare--burke and hall--their imitators, bishop and williams, in london, murder an italian boy and sell the body--greenacre and mrs. gale murder hannah brown--horrible means of disposing of the corpse--detection, trial, and sentence. in chapter two of the present volume i brought down the record of crime to the second decade of the present century. i propose now to continue the subject, and to devote a couple of chapters to criminal occurrences of a more recent date, only premising that as accounts become more voluminous i shall be compelled to deal with fewer cases, taking in preference those which are typical and invested with peculiar interest. it is somewhat remarkable that a marked change soon comes over the calendar. certain crimes, those against the person especially, diminished gradually. they became less easy or remunerative. police protection was better and more effective; the streets of london were well lighted, the suburbs were more populous and regularly patrolled. people, too, were getting into the habit of carrying but little cash about them, and no valuables but their watches or personal jewellery. street robberies offered fewer inducements to depredators, and evil-doers were compelled to adopt other methods of preying upon their fellows. this led to a rapid and marked increase in all kinds of fraud; and prominent in the criminal annals of newgate in these later years will be found numerous remarkable instances of this class of offence--forgeries committed systematically, and for long periods, as in the case of fauntleroy, to cover enormous defalcations; the fabrication of deeds, wills, and false securities for the purpose of misappropriating funds or feloniously obtaining cash; thefts of bullion, bank-notes, specie, and gold-dust, planned with consummate ingenuity, eluding the keenest vigilance, and carried out with reckless daring; jewel-boxes cleverly stolen under the very noses of owners or care-takers. as time passed, the extraordinary extension of all commercial operations led to many entirely novel and often gigantic financial frauds. the credulity of investors, the unscrupulous dishonesty of bankers, the slackness of supervision over wholly irresponsible agents, produced many terrible monetary catastrophes, and lodged men like cole, robson, and redpath in newgate. while the varying conditions of social life thus brought about many changes in the character of offences against property, those against the person became more and more limited to the most heinous, or those which menaced or destroyed life. there was no increase in murder or manslaughter; the number of such crimes remained pretty constant proportionately to population. nor did the methods by which they were perpetrated greatly vary from those in times past. the causes also continued much the same. passion, revenge, cupidity, sudden ebullitions of homicidal rage, the cold-blooded, calculating atrocity born of self-interest, were still the irresistible incentives to kill. the brutal ferocity of the wild beast once aroused, the same means, the same weapons were employed to do the dreadful deed, the same and happily often futile precautions taken to conceal the crime. pegsworth, and greenacre, and daniel good merely reproduced types that had gone before, and that have since reappeared. esther hibner was as inhuman in her ill-usage of the parish apprentice she killed as martha brownrigg had been. thurtell and hunt followed in the footsteps of billings, wood, and catherine hayes. courvoisier might have lived a century earlier. hocker was found upon the scene of his crime, irresistibly attracted thither, as was theodore gardelle. now and again there seemed to be a recurrence of a murder epidemic, as there had been before; as in the year , a year memorable for the rush murders at norwich, the gleeson wilson murder at liverpool, that of the mannings in london, and of many more. men like mobbs, the miscreant known as "general haynau" on account of his blood-thirstiness, still murdered their wives; or like cannon the chimney-sweeper, who savagely killed the policeman. a not altogether new crime, however, akin to murder, although happily never passing beyond dastardly attempts, cropped up in these times, and was often frequently repeated within a short interval. the present queen very soon after her accession became the victim of the most cowardly and unmanly outrages, and the attempted murder of the sovereign by oxford in was followed in the very next year by those of francis and of bean in two consecutive months, while in her majesty was the victim of another outrage at the hands of one pate. these crimes had their origin too often in the disordered brains of lunatics at large, like captain goode. their perpetrators were charged with high treason, but met with merciful clemency as irresponsible beings. but at various dates treason more distinct and tangible came to the front: attempts to levy war against the state. the well-known cato street conspiracy, which grew out of disturbed social conditions after the last french war, amidst general distress, and when the people were beginning to agitate for a larger share of political power, was among the earliest, and to some extent the most desperate, of these. its ringleaders, thistlewood and the rest, were after capture honoured by committal as state prisoners to the tower, but they came one and all to newgate for trial at the old bailey, and remained there after conviction till they were hanged. later on, the chartists agitated persistently for the concession embraced in the so-called people's charter, many of which are by this time actually, and by more legitimate efforts, engrafted upon our constitution. but the chartists sought their ends by riot and rebellion, and gained only imprisonment for their pains. some five hundred in all were arrested, but as only three of these were lodged in newgate, i shall not recur to them in my narrative. the cato street conspiracy would have been simply ridiculous but for the recklessness of the desperadoes who planned it. that some thirty or more needy men should hope to revolutionize england is a sufficient proof of the absurdity of their attempt. but they proceeded in all seriousness, and would have shrunk from no outrage or atrocity in furtherance of their foolhardy enterprise. the massacre of the whole of the cabinet ministers at one stroke was to be followed by an attack upon "the old man and the old woman," as they styled the mansion house and the bank of england. at the former the "provisional government" was to be established, which under thistlewood as dictator was to rule the nation, by first handing over its capital to fire and pillage. this thistlewood had seen many vicissitudes throughout his strange, adventurous career. the son of a respectable lincolnshire farmer, he became a militia officer, and married a woman with £ , , in which, however, she had only a life interest. she died early, and thistlewood, left to his own resources, followed the profession of arms, first in the british service, and then in that of the french revolutionary government. it was during this period that he was said to have imbibed his revolutionary ideas. returning to england, he found himself rich in a small landed property, which he presently sold to a man who became bankrupt before he had paid over the purchase money. after this he tried farming, but failed. he married again and came to london, where he soon became notorious as a reckless gambler and a politician holding the most extreme views. in this way he formed the acquaintance of watson and others, with whom he was arraigned for treasonable practices, and imprisoned. on his release he sent a challenge to lord sidmouth, the home secretary, and was again arrested and imprisoned. on his second release, goaded by his fancied wrongs, he began to plot a dark and dreadful revenge, and thus the conspiracy in which he was the prime mover took shape, and came to a head. the government obtained early and full information of the nefarious scheme. one of the conspirators, by name edwards, made a voluntary confession to sir herbert taylor one morning at windsor; after which thistlewood and his accomplices were closely watched, and measures taken to arrest them when their plans were so far developed that no doubt could remain as to their guilt. the day appointed for the murder and rising actually arrived before the authorities interfered. it was the day on which lord harrowby was to entertain his colleagues at dinner in grosvenor square. the occasion was considered excellent by the conspirators for disposal of the whole cabinet at one blow, and it was arranged that one of their number should knock at lord harrowby's door on the pretence of leaving a parcel, and that when it was opened the whole band should rush in. while a few secured the servants, the rest were to fall upon lord harrowby and his guests. hand-grenades were to be thrown into the dining-room, and during the noise and confusion the assassination of the ministers was to be completed, the heads of lord castlereagh and lord [illustration: the stable &c. in cato street where the conspirators met.] sidmouth being carried away in a bag. lord harrowby's dinner-party was postponed, but the conspirators knew nothing of it, and those who watched his house were further encouraged in their mistake by the arrival of many carriages, bound, as it happened, to the archbishop of york's. meanwhile the main body remained at their headquarters, a ruined stable in cato street, edgeware road, completing their dispositions for assuming supreme power after the blow had been struck. here they were surprised by the police, headed by a magistrate, and supported by a strong detachment of her majesty's guards. the police were the first to arrive on the spot, the guards having entered the street at the wrong end. the conspirators were in a loft, approached by a ladder and a trap-door, access through which could only be obtained one by one. the first constable who entered thistlewood ran through the body with a sword, but others quickly followed, the lights were extinguished, and a desperate conflict ensued. the guards, headed by lord adolphus fitz clarence, now reinforced the police, and the conspirators gave way. nine of the latter were captured, with all the war material, cutlasses, pistols, hand-grenades, and ammunition. thistlewood and fourteen more succeeded for the moment in making their escape, but most of them were subsequently taken. thistlewood was discovered next morning in a mean house in white street, moorfields. he was in bed with his breeches on (in the pockets of which were found a number of cartridges), the black belt he had worn at cato street, and a military sash. the trial of the conspirators came on some six weeks later, at the old bailey. thistlewood made a long and rambling defence, the chief features of which were abuse of lord sidmouth, and the vilification of the informer edwards. several of the other prisoners took the same line as regards edwards, and there seems to have been good reason for supposing that he was a greater villain than any of those arraigned. he had been in a state of abject misery, and when he first joined "the reformers," as the cato street conspirators called themselves, he had neither a bed to lie upon nor a coat to his back. his sudden access to means unlimited was no doubt due to the profitable _rôle_ he soon adopted of government informer and spy, and it is pretty certain that for some time he served both sides; on the one inveigling silly enthusiasts to join in the plot, and denouncing them on the other. the employment of edwards, and the manner in which the conspirators were allowed to commit themselves further and further before the law was set in motion against them, were not altogether creditable to the government. it was asserted, not without foundation, at these trials, that edwards repeatedly incited the associates he was betraying to commit outrage, to set fire to houses, throw hand-grenades into the carriages of ministers; that he was, to use thistlewood's words, "a contriver, instigator, and entrapper." the government were probably not proud of their agent, for edwards, after the conviction had been assured, went abroad to enjoy, it was said, an ample pension, so long as he did not return to england. five of the conspirators, thistlewood, ings, brunt, davidson, and tidd, were sentenced to death, and suffered in the usual way in front of newgate, with the additional penalty of decapitation, as traitors, after they had been hanged. a crowd as great as any known collected in the old bailey to see the ceremony, about which there were some peculiar features worth recording. the reckless demeanour of all the convicts except davidson was most marked. thistlewood and ings sucked oranges on the scaffold; they with brunt and tidd scorned the ordinary's ministrations, but ings said he hoped god would be more merciful to him than men had been. ings was especially defiant. he sought to cheer davidson, who seemed affected, crying out, "come, old cock-of-wax, it will soon be over." as the executioner fastened the noose, he nodded to a friend he saw in the crowd; and catching sight of the coffins ranged around the gallows, he smiled at the show with contemptuous indifference. he roared out snatches of a song about death or liberty, and just before he was turned off, yelled out three cheers to the populace whom he faced. he told the executioner to "do it tidy," to pull it tight, and was in a state of hysterical exaltation up to the very last. davidson, who was the only one who seemed to realize his awful situation, listened patiently and with thankfulness to the chaplain, and died in a manner strongly contrasting with that of his fellows. after the five bodies had hung for half-an-hour, a man in a mask came forward to complete the sentence. contemporary reports state that from the skilful manner in which he performed the decapitation, he was generally supposed to be a surgeon. be this as it may, the weapon used was only an ordinary axe, which rather indicates that force, not skill, was employed. this axe is still in existence, and is preserved at newgate with various other unpleasant curiosities, but is only an ordinary commonplace tool. these were the last executions for high treason, but not the last prisoners by many who passed through newgate charged with sedition. attacks upon the sovereign, as i have said, became more common after the accession of the young queen victoria in . it was a form of high treason not unknown in earlier reigns. in a mad woman, margaret nicholson, tried to stab george iii. as he was alighting from his carriage at the gate of st. james's palace. she was seized before she could do any mischief, and eventually lodged in bethlehem hospital, where she died after forty years' detention, at the advanced age of one hundred. again, a soldier, by name hatfield, who had been wounded in the head, and discharged from the army for unsoundness of mind, fired a pistol at george iii. from the pit of drury lane theatre in . william iv. was also the victim of a murderous outrage on ascot race-course in , when john collins, "a person in the garb of a sailor, of wretched appearance, and having a wooden leg," threw a stone at the king, which hit him on the forehead, but did no serious injury. collins, when charged, pleaded that he had lost his leg in action, that he had petitioned without success for a pension, and that, as he was starving, he had resolved on this desperate deed, feeling, as he said, that he might as well be shot or hanged as remain in such a state. he was eventually sentenced to death, but the plea of lunacy was allowed, and he was confined for life. none of the foregoing attempts were, however, so dastardly or determined as that made by oxford upon our present gracious queen two years after she ascended the throne. the cowardly crime was probably encouraged by the fearless and confiding manner in which the queen, secure as it seemed in the affections of her loyal people, freely appeared in public. oxford, who was only nineteen at the time his offence was committed, had been born at birmingham, but he came as a lad to london, and took service as a pot-boy to a publican. from this he was promoted to barman, and as such had charge of the business in various public-houses. he left his last situation in april , and established himself in lodgings in lambeth, after which he devoted himself to pistol practice in shooting-galleries, sometimes in leicester square, sometimes in the strand, or the west end. his acquaintances often asked his object in this, but he kept his own counsel till the th june. on that day oxford was on the watch at buckingham palace. he saw prince albert return there from a visit to woolwich, and then passed on to constitution hill, where he waited till four p.m., the time at which the queen and prince consort usually took an afternoon drive. about six p.m. the royal carriage, a low open vehicle drawn by four horses, ridden by postilions, left the palace. oxford, who had been pacing backwards and forwards with his hands under the lapels of his coat, saw the carriage approach. he was on the right or north side of the road. prince albert occupied the same side of the carriage, the queen the left. as the carriage came up to him oxford turned, put his hand into his breast, drew a pistol, and fired at the queen. the shot missed, and as the carriage passed on, oxford drew a second pistol and fired again. the queen saw this second movement, and stooped to avoid the shot; the prince too rose to shield her with his person. again, providentially, the bullet went wide of the mark, and the royal party drove back to clarence house, the queen being anxious to give the first news of the outrage and of her safety to her mother, the duchess of kent. meanwhile the pistol-shots had attracted the attention of the bystanders, of whom there was a fair collection, as usual, waiting to see the queen pass. oxford was seized by a person named lowe, who was at first mistaken for the assailant. but oxford at once assumed the responsibility for his crime, saying, "it was i. i did it. i'll give myself up. there is no occasion to use violence. i will go with you." he was taken into custody, and removed first to a police cell, thence committed to newgate, after he had been examined before the privy council. oxford expressed little anxiety or concern. he asked more than once whether the queen was hurt, and acknowledged that the pistols were loaded with ball. a craze for notoriety, to be achieved at any cost, was the one absorbing idea in young oxford's disordered brain. after his arrest he thought only of the excitement his attempt had raised, nothing of its atrocity, or of the fatal consequences which might have ensued. when brought to trial he hardly realized his position, but gazed with complacency around the crowded court, and eagerly inquired what persons of distinction were present. he smiled continually, and when the indictment was read, burst into loud and discordant fits of laughter. these antics may have been assumed to bear out the plea of insanity set up in his defence, but that there was madness in his family, and that he himself was of unsound mind, could not be well denied. his father, it was proved in evidence, had been at times quite mad; and oxford's mental state might be inferred from his own proceedings. among his papers was found a curious document, purporting to be the rules of an association called "young england," which oxford had evolved out of his own inflated self-conceit, and which had never any real corporeal existence. "young england" was a secret society, with no aim or object. its sworn members, known only to oxford, and all of them mere shadows, were bound to provide themselves with sword, rifle, dagger, and a pair of pistols; to wear a black crape mask, to obey punctually the orders of their commander-in-chief, and to assume any disguise, if required to go into the country on the business of the association. the officers of the society were to be known only by "f_a_ctitious (_sic_) names." thus, among the presidents were those of gowrie, justinian, aloman, colsman, kenneth, and godfrey; hannibal and ethelred were on the council; anthony, augustus, and frederic were among the generals; louis and amadeus among the captains; and hercules, neptune, and mars among the lieutenants of the association. the various grades were distinguished by cockades and bows of different colours. the society was supposed to meet regularly, and its proceedings, together with the speeches made, were duly recorded. with oxford's other papers were found letters from the secretary, written as it seemed by oxford to himself, after the manner of mr. toots, all of which declared their approval of the commander-in-chief. one expressed pleasure that oxford improved so much in speaking, and declared that his (oxford's) speech the last time "was beautiful." this letter went on to say that a new member had been introduced by lieut. mars, "a fine, tall, gentlemanly young man, and it is said that he is a military officer, but his name has not yet transpired. soon after he was introduced we were alarmed by a violent knocking at the door; in an instant our faces were covered, we cocked our pistols, and with drawn swords stood waiting to receive the enemy. while one stood over the fire with the papers, another stood with lighted torch to fire the house. we then sent the old woman to open the door, and it proved to be some little boys who had knocked and ran away." another letter directed oxford to attend an extraordinary meeting of "young england" in consequence of having received some information of an important nature from hanover. "you must attend; and if your master will not give you leave, you must come in defiance of him." no serious importance could be attached to these, the manifest inventions of a disordered intellect. the whole of the evidence pointed so strongly towards insanity, that the jury brought in a verdict of acquittal on that ground, and oxford was ordered to be detained during her majesty's pleasure. he went from newgate first to bethlehem, from which he was removed to broadmoor on the opening of the great criminal lunatic asylum at that place. he was released from broadmoor in , and went abroad. within a couple of years a second attempt to assassinate the queen was perpetrated in nearly the same spot, by a man named john francis, who was arrested in the very act, just as he had fired one shot. his motives for thus imitating the dastardly crime of oxford are shrouded in obscurity. he could not plead insanity like his predecessor, and no attempt was made at his trial to prove him of unsound mind. here again probably it was partly the love of notoriety which was the incentive, backed possibly with the hope that, as in a much more recent case,[ ] he would be in some way provided for, he having been for some time previously in abject circumstances. the deed was long premeditated, and would have been executed a day earlier had not his courage failed him at the last moment. a youth named pearson had seen him present a pistol at the queen's carriage, but draw it back again, exclaiming presently, "i wish i had done it." pearson weakly allowed francis to go off without securing his apprehension, but later he gave full information. the queen was apprised of the danger, and begged not to go abroad; but she declared she would not remain a prisoner in her own palace, and next day drove out as usual in an open barouche. nothing happened till her majesty returned to buckingham palace about six p.m., when, on descending constitution hill, with an equerry riding close on each side of her carriage, a man who had been leaning against the palace garden wall suddenly advanced, levelled a pistol at the queen, and fired. he was so close to the carriage that the smoke of his pistol enveloped the face of colonel wylde, one of the equerries. the queen was untouched, and at first, it is said, hardly realized the danger she had escaped. francis had already been seized by a policeman named trounce, who saw his movement with the pistol, but too late to prevent its discharge. the prisoner was conveyed without delay to the home office, and there examined by the privy council, which had been hastily summoned for the purpose. on searching him the pistol was found in his pocket, the barrel still warm; also some loose powder and a bullet. there was some doubt as to whether the pistol when fired was actually loaded with ball, but the jury brought in a verdict of guilty of the criminal intent to kill. francis was sentenced to be hanged, decapitated, and quartered, the old traitor's doom, but was spared, and subsequently transported for life. the enthusiasm of the people at the queen's escape was uproarious, and her drive next day was one long triumphal progress. at the italian opera in the evening the audience, on the queen's appearance, greeted her with loud cheers, and called for the national anthem. this was in may . undeterred by the well-merited punishment which had overtaken francis, a third miscreant made a similar but far less serious attempt in the month of july following. as the queen was driving from buckingham palace to the chapel royal, a deformed lad among the crowd was seen to present a pistol at her majesty's carriage, in the mall, about half-way between buckingham and st. james's palaces. only one person saw the movement, a lad named dasset, who at once collared the cripple, and taking him up to two policemen, charged him with the offence. the policemen treated the matter as a hoax, and allowed the culprit to make off. later on, however, dasset was himself seized and interrogated, and on his information handbills were circulated, giving the exact description of the deformed youth, who had "a hump-back, and a long, sickly, pale face, with light hair;" his nose was marked with a scar or black patch, and he was altogether of a dirty appearance. it happened that a lad named bean had absconded from his father's home some weeks before, whose description, as given by his father to the police, exactly tallied with that of the deformed person "wanted" for the assault on the queen. a visit to the father's residence was followed by the arrest of the son, who had by this time returned. this son, john william bean, was fully identified by dasset, and presently examined by the privy council. he was eventually charged with a misdemeanour, the capital charge having been abandoned, and committed for trial. much the same motives of seeking notoriety seem to have impelled bean, who was perfectly sane, to his rash act; but it was proved that the pistol was not loaded with ball, and he was only convicted of an attempt "to harass, vex, and grieve the sovereign." lord abinger sentenced him to eighteen months' imprisonment in newgate, but the place of durance was changed, to meet the existing law, to millbank penitentiary. i shall mention briefly one more case, in which, however, there was no murderous intent, before i pass on to other crimes. on june the queen was once more subjected to cowardly outrage, the offender being a mr. pate, a gentleman by birth, who had borne the queen's commission, first as cornet, and then lieutenant, in the th hussars. pate was said to be an eccentric person, given to strange acts and antics, such as mixing whiskey and camphor with his morning bath-water, and walking for choice through prickly gorse bushes. he always kept the blinds down at his chambers in jermyn street; and as the st. james's clock chimed quarter-past three, invariably went out in a cab, for which he always paid the same fare, nine shillings, all in shillings, and no other coin. but this was not sufficient to constitute lunacy, nor was his plea of "momentary uncontrollable impulse" deemed valid as any palliation of his offence. that offence was a brutal assault upon her majesty, whom he struck in the face with a small stick just as she was leaving cambridge house. the blow crushed the bonnet and bruised the forehead of the queen, who was happily not otherwise injured. pate was found guilty, and sentenced to seven years' transportation, the judge, baron alderson, abstaining from inflicting the penalty of whipping, which was authorized by a recent act, on account of mr. pate's family and position in life. i have already remarked that as violence was more and more eliminated from crimes against the person, frauds indicating great boldness, extensive design, and ingenuity became more prevalent. the increase of bank forgeries, and its cause, i referred to in a previous chapter.[ ] at one session of the old bailey, in , no less than thirty-five true bills were found for passing forged notes. but there were other notorious cases of forgery. that of fauntleroy the banker, in , caused much excitement at the time on account of the magnitude of the fraud, and the seeming probity of the culprit. mr. fauntleroy was a member of a banking firm, which his father had established in conjunction with a gentleman of the name of marsh, and others. he had entered the house as clerk in ; in , and when only twenty-two, he succeeded to his father's share in the business. according to fauntleroy's own case, he found at once that the firm was heavily involved, through advances made to various builders, and that it could only maintain its credit by wholesale discounting. its embarrassments were greatly increased by the bankruptcy of two of its clients in the building trade, and the bank became liable for a sum of £ , . new liabilities were incurred to the extent of £ , by more failures, and in , by the death of one of the partners, a large sum in cash had to be withdrawn from the bank to pay his heirs. "during these numerous and trying difficulties"--it is mr. fauntleroy who speaks--"the house was nearly without resources, and the whole burthen of management falling on me, ... i sought resources where i could;" in other words, he forged powers of attorney, and proceeded to realize securities lodged in his bank under various names. among the prisoner's private papers, one was found giving full details of the stock he had feloniously sold out, the sum total amounting to some £ , , with a declaration in his own handwriting to the following effect. "in order to keep up the credit of our house, i have forged powers of attorney for the above sums and parties, and sold out to the amount here stated, and without the knowledge of my partners. i kept up the payments of the dividends, but made no entries of such payments in my books. the bank began first to refuse our acceptances, and to destroy the credit of our house; the bank shall smart for it." many stories were in circulation at the time of fauntleroy's trial with regard to his forgeries. it was said that he had by means of them sold out so large an amount of stock, that he paid £ , a year in dividends to escape detection. once he ran a narrow risk of being found out. a lady in the country, who had £ , in the stocks, desired her london agent to sell them out. he went to the bank, and found that no stocks stood in her name. he called at once upon fauntleroy, his client's bankers, for an explanation, and was told by mr. fauntleroy that the lady had desired _him_ to sell out, "which i have done," added the fraudulent banker, "and here are the proceeds," whereupon he produced exchequer bills to the amount. nothing more was heard of the affair, although the lady declared that she had never instructed fauntleroy to sell. on another occasion the banker forged a gentleman's name while the latter was sitting with him in his private room, and took the instrument out to a clerk with the ink not dry. it must be added that the bank of england, on discovering the forgeries, replaced the stock in the names of the original holders, who might otherwise have been completely ruined. a newspaper report of the time describes fauntleroy as "a well-made man of middle stature. his hair, though gray, was thick, and lay smooth over his forehead. his countenance had an expression of most subdued resignation. the impression which his appearance altogether was calculated to make was that of the profoundest commiseration." the crime, long carried on without detection, was first discovered in , when it was found that a sum of £ , , standing in the name of three trustees, of whom fauntleroy was one, had been sold out under a forged power of attorney. further investigations brought other similar frauds to light, and fixed the whole sum misappropriated at £ , , the first forgery dating back to . a run upon the bank immediately followed, which was only met by a suspension of payment and the closing of its doors. meanwhile public gossip was busy with fauntleroy's name, and it was openly stated in the press and in conversation that the proceeds of these frauds had been squandered in chambering, gambling, and debauchery. fauntleroy was scouted as a [illustration: fauntleroy in the dock.] licentious libertine, a deep and determined gamester, a spendthrift whose extravagance knew no bounds.[ ] the veil was lifted from his private life, and he was accused of persistent immorality. in his defence he sought to rebut these charges, which indeed were never clearly made out, and it is pretty certain that his own account of the causes which led him into dishonesty was substantially true. he called many witnesses, seventeen in all, to speak of him as they had found him; and these, all respectable city merchants and business men, declared that they had hitherto formed a high opinion of his honour, integrity, and goodness of disposition, deeming him the last person capable of a dishonourable action. these arguments availed little with the jury, who after a short deliberation found fauntleroy guilty, and he was sentenced to death. every endeavour was used, however, to obtain a commutation of sentence. his case was twice argued before the judges on points of law, but the result in both cases was unfavourable. appeals were made to the home secretary, and all possible political interest brought to bear, but without success. fauntleroy meanwhile lay in newgate, not herded with other condemned prisoners, as the custom was,[ ] but in a separate chamber, that belonging to one of the warders of the gaol. i find in the chaplain's journal, under date , various entries relative to this prisoner. "visited mr. fauntleroy. my application for books for him not having been attended, i had no prayer-book to give him." "visited mr. fauntleroy. the sheriffs have very kindly permitted him to remain in the turnkey's room where he was originally placed; nor can i omit expressing a hope that this may prove the beginning of a better system of confinement, and that every description of persons who may be unfortunately under sentence of death will no longer be herded indiscriminately together."[ ] the kindliness of the city authorities to fauntleroy was not limited to the assignment of a separate place of durance. as i have already said, they took the chaplain seriously to task for the bad taste shown in the condemned sermon preached before fauntleroy. this was on the text, "wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall," and was full of the most pointed allusions to the culprit. fauntleroy constantly groaned aloud while the sermon proceeded, and contemporary reports declared that "he appeared to feel deeply the force of the reverend gentleman's observations," especially when the chaplain spoke "of the great magnitude of our erring brother's offence, one of the most dangerous description in a trading community." the sermon ended with an appeal to the dying man, exhorting him to penitence. this "personality," and it can be called by no other name, is carefully excluded from prison pulpit utterances on the eve of an execution. a very curious and, in its way, amusing circumstance in connection with this case was the offer of a certain italian, edmund angelini, to take fauntleroy's place. angelini wrote to the lord mayor to this effect, urging that fauntleroy was a father, a citizen: "his life is useful, mine a burthen, to the state." he was summoned to the mansion house, where he repeated his request, crying, "accordez moi cette grâce," with much urgency. there were doubts of his sanity. he wrote afterwards to the effect that the moment he had offered himself, an unknown assassin came to aim a blow at him. "let this monster give his name; i am ready to fight him. i am still determined to put myself in the place of mr. fauntleroy. if the law of this country can receive such a sacrifice, my death will render to heaven an innocent man, and to earth a repentant sinner." fauntleroy was not entirely dependent upon the ordinary for ghostly counsel in his extremity. he was also attended by the rev. mr. springett and the indefatigable mr. baker, whose name has already been mentioned.[ ] when led out on the morning of his execution, these two last-named gentlemen each took hold of one of his arms, and so accompanied him to the scaffold. the concourse in front of newgate was enormous, but much sympathy was evinced for this unfortunate victim to human weakness and ruthless laws. a report was, moreover, widely circulated, and the impression long prevailed, that he actually escaped death. it was said that strangulation had been prevented by the insertion of a silver tube in his wind-pipe, and that after hanging for the regulated time he was taken down and easily restored to consciousness. afterwards, according to the common rumour, he went abroad and lived there for many years; but the story is not only wholly unsubstantiated, but there is good evidence to show that the body after execution was handed over to his friends and interred privately. some years were still to elapse before capital punishment ceased to be the penalty for forgery, and in the interval several persons were sentenced to or suffered death for this crime. there were two notable capital convictions for forgery in . one was that of captain montgomery, who assumed the aliases of colonel wallace and colonel morgan. his offence was uttering forged notes, and there was strong suspicion that he had long subsisted entirely by this fraud. the act for which he was taken into custody was the payment of a forged ten-pound note for half-a-dozen silver spoons. montgomery was an adept at forgery. he had gone wrong early. although born of respectable parents, and gazetted to a commission in the army, he soon left the service and betook himself to dishonest ways. his first forgery was the marvellous imitation of the signature of the hon. mr. neville, m.p., who wrote an extremely cramped and curious hand. he was not prosecuted for this fraud on account of the respectability of his family, and soon after this escape he came to london, where he practised as a professional swindler and cheat. for a long time justice did not overtake him for any criminal offence, but he was frequently in newgate and in the king's bench for debt. after three years' confinement in the latter prison he passed himself off as his brother, colonel montgomery, a distinguished officer, and would have married an heiress had not the imposture been discovered in time. he then took to forging bank-notes, and was arrested as i have described above. montgomery was duly sentenced to death, but he preferred suicide to the gallows. after sentence his demeanour was serious yet firm. the night previous to that fixed for his execution he wrote several letters, one of them being to edward gibbon wakefield, a fellow-prisoner,[ ] and listened attentively to the ordinary, who read him the well-known address written and delivered by dr. dodd previous to his own execution for forgery. but next morning he was found dead in his cell. in one corner after much search a phial was found labelled "prussic acid," which it was asserted he had been in the habit of carrying about his person ever since he had taken to passing forged notes, as an "antidote against disgrace." this phial he had managed to retain in his possession in spite of the frequent searches to which he was subjected in newgate. the second conviction for forgery in was that of the quaker joseph hunton, a man of previously the highest repute in the city of london. he had prospered in early life, was a slop-seller on a large scale at bury st. edmunds, and a sugar-baker in the metropolis. he married a lady also belonging to the society of friends, who brought him a large fortune, which, and his own money, he put into a city firm, that of dickson and co. he soon, however, became deeply involved in stock exchange speculations, and losing heavily, to meet the claims upon him he put out a number of forged bills of exchange or acceptances, to which the signature of one wilkins of abingdon was found to be forged. hunton tried to fly the country on the detection of the fraud, but was arrested at plymouth just as he was on the point of leaving england in the new york packet. he had gone on board in his quaker dress, but when captured was found in a light-green frock, a pair of light-grey pantaloons, a black stock and a foraging cap. hunton was put upon his trial at the old bailey, and in due course sentenced to death. his defence was that the forged acceptances would have been met on coming to maturity, and that he had no real desire to defraud. hunton accepted his sentence with great resignation, although he protested against the inhumanity of the laws which condemned him to death. on entering newgate he said, "i wish after this day to have communication with nobody; let me take leave of my wife, and family, and friends. i have already suffered an execution; my heart has undergone that horrible penalty." he was, however, visited by and received his wife, and several members of the society of friends. two elders of the meeting sat up with him in the press yard the whole of the night previous to execution, and a third, mr. sparks moline, came to attend him to the scaffold. he met his death with unshaken firmness, only entreating that a certain blue handkerchief, to which he seemed fondly attached, should be used to bandage his eyes, which request was readily granted. hunton's execution no doubt aroused public attention to the cruelty and futility of the capital law against forgery. a society which had already been started against capital punishment devoted its efforts first to a mitigation of the forgery statute, but could not immediately accomplish much. in the gallows claimed two more victims for this offence. one was richard gifford, a well-educated youth who had been at christ's hospital, and afterwards in the national debt office. unfortunately he took to drink, lost his appointment, and fell from bad to worse. suddenly, after being at the lowest depths, he emerged, and was found by his friends living in comfort in the waterloo road. his funds, which he pretended came to him with a rich wife, were really the proceeds of frauds upon the bank of england. he forged the names of people who held stock on the bank books, and got the value of the stock; he also forged dividend receipts and got the dividends. he was only six-and-twenty when he was hanged. the other and the last criminal executed for forgery in this country was one maynard, who was convicted of a fraud upon the custom house. in conjunction with two others, one of whom was a clerk in the custom house, and had access to the official records, he forged a warrant for £ , and was paid the money by the comptroller general. maynard was convicted of uttering the forged document, jones of being an accessory; the third prisoner was acquitted. maynard was the only one who suffered death. this was on the last day of . in the following session sir robert peel brought in a bill to consolidate the acts relating to forgery. upon the third reading of this bill sir james macintosh moved as an amendment that capital punishment should be abolished for all crimes of forgery, except the forgery of wills and powers of attorney. this amendment was strongly supported outside the house, and a petition in favour of its passing was presented, signed by more than a thousand members of banking firms. macintosh's amendment was carried in the commons, but the new law did not pass the lords, who re-enacted the capital penalty. still no sentence of death was carried out for the offence, and in the attorney-general introduced a bill to abolish capital punishment entirely for forgery. it passed the commons, but opposition was again encountered in the lords. this time they sent back the bill, re-enacting only the two penalties for will forging and the forging of powers of attorney; in other words, they had advanced in to the point at which the lower house had arrived in . there were at the moment in newgate six convicts sentenced to death for forging wills. the question was whether the government would dare to take their lives at the bidding of the house of lords, and in defiance of the vote of the assembly which more accurately represented public opinion. it was indeed announced that their fate was sealed; but mr. joseph hume pressed the government hard, and obtained an assurance that the men should not be executed. the new forgery act with the lords' amendment passed into law, but the latter proved perfectly harmless, and no person ever after suffered death for any variety of this crime. i will include in this part of the present chapter almost one of the last instances[ ] of a crime which in time past had invariably been visited with the death penalty, and which was of a distinctly fraudulent nature. the abduction of miss turner by the brothers wakefield bore a strong resemblance to the carrying off and forcible marrying of heiresses as already described.[ ] miss turner was a school-girl of barely fifteen, only child of a gentleman of large property in cheshire, of which county he was actually high sheriff at the time of his daughter's abduction. the elder brother, edward gibbon wakefield, the prime mover in the abduction, was a barrister, not exactly briefless, but without a large practice. he had, it was said, a good private income, and was already a widower with two children at the time of his committing the offence for which he was subsequently tried. he had eloped with his first wife from school. while on a visit to macclesfield he heard by chance of miss turner, and that she would inherit all her father's possessions. he thereupon conceived an idea of carrying her off and marrying her willy nilly at gretna green. the two brothers started at once for liverpool, where miss turner was at school with a mrs. daulby. at manchester, _en route_, a travelling carriage was purchased, which was driven up to mrs. daulby's door at eight in the morning, and a servant hurriedly alighted from it, bearing a letter for miss turner. this purported to be from the medical attendant of mr. turner, written at shrigley, mr. turner's place of residence; and it stated that mrs. turner had been stricken with paralysis. she was not in immediate danger, but she wished to see her daughter, "as it was possible she might soon become incapable of recognizing any one." miss turner, greatly agitated, accompanied the messenger who had brought this news, a disguised servant of wakefield's, who had plausibly explained that he had only recently been engaged at shrigley. the road taken was _viâ_ manchester, where the servant said a dr. hull was to be picked up to go on with them to shrigley. at manchester, however, the carriage stopped at the albion hotel. miss turner was shown into a private room, where mr. wakefield soon presented himself. miss turner, not knowing him, would have left the room, but he said he came from her father, and she remained. wakefield, in reply to her inquiries, satisfied her that her mother was well, and that the real reason for summoning her from school was the state of her father's affairs. mr. turner was on the verge of bankruptcy. he was at that moment at kendal, and wished her to join him there at once. miss turner consented to go on, and they travelled night and day towards the north. but at kendal there was no mr. turner, and, to allay miss turner's growing anxiety, wakefield found it necessary to become more explicit regarding her father's affairs. he now pretended that mr. turner was also on his way to the border, pursued by sheriffs' officers. the fact was, wakefield went on to say, an uncle of his had advanced mr. turner £ , , which had temporarily staved off ruin. but another bank had since failed, and nothing could save mr. turner but the transfer of some property to miss turner, and its settlement on her, so that it might become the exclusive property of her husband, "whoever he might be." wakefield added that it had been suggested he should marry miss turner, but that he had laughed at the idea. wakefield's uncle took the matter more seriously, and declared that unless the marriage came off mr. turner must be sold up. miss turner, thus pressed, consented to go on to gretna green. passing through carlisle, she was told that mr. turner was in the town, but could not show himself. nothing could release him from his trouble but the arrival of the marriage certificate from gretna green. filial affection rose superior to all scruples, and miss turner, having crossed the border, was married to wakefield by the blacksmith in the usual way. returning to carlisle, she now heard that her father had been set free, and had gone home to shrigley, whither they were to follow him. they set out, but at leeds wakefield found himself called suddenly to paris; the other brother was accordingly sent on a pretended mission to shrigley to bring mr. turner on to london, whither wakefield and miss turner also proceeded. on arrival, wakefield pretended that they had missed mr. turner, and must follow him over to france. the strangely-married couple thereupon pressed on to dover, and crossed over to calais. the fact of the abduction did not transpire for some days. then mrs. daulby learnt that miss turner had not arrived at shrigley, but that she had gone to manchester. friends went in pursuit and traced her to huddersfield and further north. the terror and dismay of her parents were soon intensified by the receipt of a letter from wakefield, at carlisle, announcing the marriage. mr. turner at once set off for london, where he sought the assistance of the police, and presently ascertained that wakefield had gone to the continent with his involuntary bride. an uncle of miss wakefield's, accompanied by his solicitor and a bow street runner, at once went in pursuit. meanwhile, a second letter turned up from wakefield at calais, in which he assured mrs. turner that miss turner was fondly attached to him, and went on to say, "i do assure you, madam, that it shall be the anxious endeavour of my life to promote her happiness by every means in my power." the game, however, was nearly up. miss turner was met by her uncle on calais pier as she was walking with wakefield. the uncle claimed her. the husband resisted. m. le maire was appealed to, and decided to leave it to the young lady, who at once abandoned wakefield. as he still urged his rights over his wife, miss turner cried out in protest, "no, no, i am not his wife; he carried me away by fraud and stratagem, and forced me to accompany him to gretna green.... by the same forcible means i was compelled to quit england, and to trust myself to the protection of this person, whom i never saw until i was taken from liverpool, and never want to see again." on this wakefield gave in. he surrendered the bride who had never been a wife, and she returned to england with her friends, while wakefield went on alone to paris. mr. william wakefield was arrested at dover, conveyed to chester, and committed to lancaster gaol for trial at the next assizes, when indictments were preferred against both brothers "for having carried away ellen turner, spinster, then a maid and heir apparent unto her father, for the sake of the lucre of her substance; and for having afterwards unlawfully and against her will married the said ellen turner." they were tried in march of the following year, edward wakefield having apparently given himself up, and found guilty, remaining in lancaster gaol for a couple of months, when they were brought up to the court of king's bench for judgment. the prosecution pressed for a severe penalty. edward wakefield pleaded that his trial had already cost him £ . mr. justice bayley, in summing up, spoke severely of the gross deception practised upon an innocent girl, and sentenced the brothers each to three years' imprisonment, william wakefield in lancaster gaol, and edward gibbon wakefield in newgate, which sentences were duly enforced. the marriage was annulled by an act of parliament, although wakefield petitioned against it, and was brought from newgate, at his own request, to oppose the second reading of the bill. he also wrote and published a pamphlet from the gaol to show that miss turner had been a consenting party to the marriage, and was really his wife. neither his address nor his pamphlet availed much, for the bill for the divorce passed both houses. that mr. wakefield was a shrewd critic and close observer of all that went on in the newgate of those days, will be admitted by those who have read his book on "the punishment of death," which was based on his gaol experiences, and of which i have availed myself in the last chapter. after their release from lancaster and newgate respectively, both wakefields went abroad. mr. w. wakefield served in a continental army, and rose to the rank of colonel, after which he went to new zealand, and held an important post in that colony. mr. e. g. wakefield took part in the scheme for the colonization of north australia, and for some years resided in that colony. miss turner subsequently married mr. legh of lym hall, cheshire. it must not be imagined that although highway robbery was now nearly extinct,[ ] and felonious outrages in the streets were rare, that thieves or depredators were idle or entirely unsuccessful. bigger "jobs" than ever were planned and attempted, as in the burglary at lambeth palace, when the thieves were fortunately disappointed, the archbishop having, before he left town, sent his plate-chests, eight in number, to the silversmith's for greater security. the jewellers were always a favourite prey of the london thieves. shops were broken into, as when that of grimaldi and johnson, in the strand, was robbed of watches to the value of £ . where robbery with violence was intended, the perpetrators had now to adopt various shifts and contrivances to secure their victim. no more curious instance of this ever occurred than the assault made by one howard upon a mr. mullay, with intent to rob him. the latter had advertised, offering a sum of £ to any one who would introduce him to some mercantile employment. howard replied, desiring mr. mullay to call upon him in a house in red lion square. mr. mullay went, and a second interview was agreed upon, when a third person, mr. owen, through whose interest an appointment under government was to be obtained for mullay, would be present. mr. mullay called again, taking with him £ in cash. howard discovered this, and his manner was very suspicious; there were weapons in the room--a long knife, a heavy trap-ball bat, and a poker. mr. mullay became alarmed, and as mr. owen did not appear, withdrew; howard, strange to say, making no attempt to detain him; probably because mullay promised to return a few days later, and to bring more money. on this renewed visit mr. owen was still absent, and mr. mullay agreed to write him a note from a copy howard gave him. while thus engaged, howard thrust the poker into the fire. mullay protested, and then howard, under the influence of ungovernable rage, as it seemed, jumped up, locked the door, and attacked mullay violently with the trap-ball bat and knife. mullay defended himself, and managed to break the knife, but not before he had cut himself severely. a life and death struggle ensued. mullay cried "murder!" howard swore he would finish him, but proved the weaker of the two, and mullay got him down on the floor. by this time the neighbours were aroused, and several people came to the scene of the affray. howard was secured, given into custody, and committed to newgate. the defence he set up was, that mullay had used epithets towards him while they were negotiating a business matter, and that, being an irritable temper, he had struck mullay, after which a violent scuffle took place. it was, however, proved that howard was in needy circumstances, and that his proposals to mr. mullay could only have originated in a desire to rob him. he was found guilty of an assault with intent, and sentenced to transportation for fourteen years. a more complicated and altogether most extraordinary case of assault, with intent to extort money, occurred a few years later. it was perpetrated upon a respectable country solicitor, mr. gee, of bishop stortford, who administered the estate of a certain mr. canning, deceased. this mr. canning had left his widow a life interest in £ so long as she remained unmarried. the money went after her to her children. mr. gee had invested £ of this, and was seeking how best to place the remaining £ , when he was asked to meet a mr. heath in london with regard to the sale of certain lands at bishop stortford. an appointment was made and kept by mr. gee, but on arrival he was met by a young sailor with a letter which begged mr. gee to go to heath's house, as the latter was not well. mr. gee went in the coach sent for him, and alighted at , york street, west, commercial road. the coach immediately drove off; mr. gee entered the house, asked for mr. heath, was told he would find him in the back kitchen at breakfast. he was about to descend the stairs when three persons, one of them the young sailor, fell upon him, and in spite of his resistance carried him into a sort of den partitioned off at the end of the back kitchen. there he was seated on some sort of wooden bench and securely fastened. "a chain fixed to staples at his back passed round his chest under his arms, and was padlocked on the left side;" his feet were bound with cords and made fast to rings in the floor. thus manacled, one of the party, who pretended to be mrs. canning's brother, addressed him, insisting that he should forthwith sign a cheque for the £ of the canning inheritance still uninvested, and write an order sufficient to secure the surrender of the other £ . mr. gee at first stoutly refused. then, as they warned him that he would be kept a prisoner in total darkness in this horrible den until he agreed to their demands, he gave in, and signed the documents thus illegally extorted. one was a cheque for £ on his bankers, the other an order to mr. bell of newport, essex, requesting the surrender of a deed. his captors having thus succeeded in their designs, left him, no doubt to realize the money. the door of his place of durance stood open, and mr. gee began to consider whether he might not escape. for three hours he struggled without success with his bonds, but at length managed to wriggle out of the chain which confined his body, and soon loosened the ropes round his feet. thus free, he eluded the vigilance of two of the party, who were at dinner in the front kitchen, and creeping out into the garden at the back, climbed the wall, and got into the street. his first act was to send a messenger to stop the cheque and the order to mr. bell, his next to seek the help of the police. two bow street runners were despatched to the house in york street, which had evidently been taken on purpose for the outrage. there was no furniture in the place, and the den in the kitchen had been recently and specially constructed of boards of immense strength and thickness. it was a cell five feet by three, within another, the intervening being filled with rammed earth to deaden the sound. a fixed seat, two feet, was at one end, and a foot above it was a bar with a staple, to which hung the body chain. on the arrival of the police the house was empty. the two men on guard had gone off immediately after mr. gee had escaped, but they returned later in the day, and were apprehended. inquiries set on foot also elicited the suspicion that the person who had represented mrs. canning's brother was a blind man named edwards, who had taken this house in york street, and who was known to be a frequent visitor at mrs. canning's. a watch was set on him at her house, where he was soon afterwards arrested. edwards, whom mr. gee easily identified with the others, at once admitted that he was the prime mover of the conspiracy. he had sought by all legal means to obtain possession of the £ , but had failed, and had had recourse to more violent means. it turned out that he was really married to mrs. canning, both having been recognized by the clergyman who had performed the ceremony, and the assault had been committed to secure the money which mrs. canning had lost by re-marriage. all three men were committed for trial, although edwards wished to exculpate the others as having only acted under his order. at the trial the indictment charging them with felony could not be sustained, but they were found guilty of conspiracy and assault. edwards was sentenced to two years' imprisonment in newgate, weedon and lecasser to twelve and six months respectively in coldbath fields. at no period could thieves in london or elsewhere have prospered had they been unable to dispose of their ill-gotten goods. the trade of fence, or receiver, therefore, is very nearly as old as the crimes which it so obviously fostered.[ ] one of the most notorious, and for a time most successful practitioners in this illicit trade, passed through newgate in . the name of ikey solomons was long remembered by thief and thief-taker. he began as an itinerant street vendor at eight, at ten he passed bad money, at fourteen he was a pickpocket and a "duffer," or a seller of sham goods. he early saw the profits to be made out of purchasing stolen goods, but could not embark in it at first for want of capital. he was taken up when still in his teens for stealing a pocket-book, and was sentenced to transportation, but did not get beyond the hulks at chatham. on his release an uncle, a slop-seller in chatham, gave him a situation as "barker," or salesman, at which he realized £ within a couple of years. with this capital he returned to london and set up as a fence. he had such great aptitude for business, and such a thorough knowledge of the real value of goods, that he was soon admitted to be one of the best judges known of all kinds of property, from a glass bottle to a five hundred guinea chronometer. but he never paid more than a fixed price for all articles of the same class, whatever their intrinsic value. thus, a watch was paid for as a watch, whether it was of gold or silver; a piece of linen as such, whether the stuff was coarse or fine. this rule in dealing with stolen goods continues to this day, and has made the fortune of many since ikey. solomons also established a system of provincial agency, by which stolen goods were passed on from london to the seaports, and so abroad. jewels were re-set, diamonds re-faced; all marks by which other articles might be identified, the selvages of linen, the stamps on shoes, the number and names on watches, were carefully removed or obliterated after the goods passed out of his hands. on one occasion the whole of the proceeds of a robbery from a boot shop was traced to solomons'; the owner came with the police, and was morally convinced that it was his property, but could not positively identify it, and ikey defied them to remove a single shoe. in the end the injured bootmaker agreed to buy back his stolen stock at the price solomons had paid for it, and it cost him about a hundred pounds to re-stock his shop with his own goods. as a general rule ikey solomons confined his purchases to small articles, mostly of jewellery and plate, which he kept concealed in a hiding-place with a trap-door just under his bed. he lived in rosemary lane, and sometimes he had as much as £ , worth of goods secreted on the premises. when his trade was busiest he set up a second establishment, at the head of which, although he was married, he put another lady, with whom he was on intimate terms. the second house was in lower queen street, islington, and he used it for some time as a depot for valuables. but it was eventually discovered by mrs. solomons, a very jealous wife, and this, with the danger arising from an extensive robbery of watches in cheapside, in which ikey was implicated as a receiver, led him to think seriously of trying his fortunes in another land. he was about to emigrate to new south wales, when he was arrested at islington and committed to newgate on a charge of receiving stolen goods. while thus incarcerated he managed to escape from custody, but not actually from gaol, by an ingenious contrivance which is worth mentioning. he claimed to be admitted to bail, and was taken from newgate on a writ of _habeas_ before one of the judges sitting at westminster. he was conveyed in a coach driven by a confederate, and under the escort of a couple of turnkeys. solomons, while waiting to appear in court, persuaded the turnkeys to take him to a public-house, where all might "refresh." while there he was joined by his wife and other friends. after a short carouse the prisoner went into westminster, his case was heard, bail refused, and he was ordered back to newgate. but he once more persuaded the turnkeys to pause at the public, where more liquor was consumed. when the journey was resumed, mrs. solomons accompanied her husband in the coach. half-way to newgate she was taken with a fit. one turnkey was stupidly drunk, and ikey persuaded the other, who was not much better, to let the coach change and pass petticoat lane _en route_ to the gaol, where the suffering woman might be handed over to her friends. on stopping at a door in this low street, ikey jumped out, ran into the house, slamming the door behind him. he passed through and out at the back, and was soon beyond pursuit. by-and-by the turnkeys, sobered by their loss, returned to newgate alone, and pleaded in excuse that they had been drugged. ikey left no traces, and the police could hear nothing of him. he had in fact gone out of the country, to copenhagen, whence he passed on to new york. there he devoted himself to the circulation of forged notes. he was also anxious to do business in watches, and begged his wife to send him over a consignment of cheap "righteous" watches, or such as had been honestly obtained, and not "on the cross." but mrs. solomons could not resist the temptation to dabble in stolen goods, and she was found shipping watches of the wrong category to new york. for this she received a sentence of fourteen years' transportation, and was sent to van diemen's land. ikey joined her at hobart town, where they set up a general shop, and soon began to prosper. he was, however, recognized, and ere long an order came out from home for his arrest and transfer to england, which presently followed, and he again found himself an inmate of newgate, waiting trial as a receiver and a prison-breaker. he was indicted on eight charges, two only of which were substantiated, but on each of them he received a sentence of seven years' transportation. at his own request he was reconveyed to hobart town, where his son had been carrying on the business. whether ikey was "assigned" to his own family is not recorded, but no doubt he succeeded to his own property when the term of servitude had expired. no doubt, on the removal of ikey solomons from the scene, his mantle fell upon worthy successors. there was an increase rather than an abatement in jewel and bullion robberies in the years immediately following, and the thieves seem to have had no difficulty in disposing of their spoil. one of the largest robberies of its class was that effected upon the custom house in the winter of . a large amount of specie was nearly always retained here in the department of the receiver of fines. this was known to some clerks in the office, who began to consider how they might lay hands on a lot of cash. being inexperienced, they decided to call in the services of a couple of professional housebreakers, jordan and sullivan, who at once set to work in a business-like way to obtain impressions of the keys of the strong room and chest. but before committing themselves to an attempt on the latter, it was of importance to ascertain how much it usually contained. for this purpose jordan waited on the receiver to make a small payment, for which he tendered a fifty-pound note. the chest was opened to give change, and a heavy tray lifted out which plainly held some £ in cash. some difficulty then arose as to gaining admission to the strong room, and it was arranged that a man, may, another custom house clerk, should be introduced into the building, and secreted there during the night to accomplish the robbery. may was smuggled in through a window on the esplanade behind an opened umbrella. when the place was quite deserted he broke open the chest and stole £ in notes, with a quantity of gold and some silver. he went out next morning with the booty when the doors were re-opened, and attracted no attention. the spoil was fairly divided; part of the notes were disposed of to a travelling "receiver," who passed over to the continent and there cashed them easily. this occurred in november . the custom house officials were in a state of consternation, and the police were unable at first to get on the track of the thieves. while the excitement was still fresh, a new robbery of diamonds was committed at a bonded warehouse in the immediate neighbourhood, on custom house quay. the jewels had belonged to a spanish countess recently deceased, who had sent them to england for greater security on the outbreak of the first carlist war. at her death the diamonds were divided between her four daughters, but only half had been claimed, and at the time of the robbery there were still £ worth in the warehouse. these were deposited in an iron chest of great strength on the second floor. the thieves it was supposed had secreted themselves in the warehouse during business hours, and waited till night to carry out their plans. some ham sandwiches, several cigar ends, and two empty champagne bottles were found on the premises next day, showing how they had passed their time. they had had serious work to get at the diamonds. it was necessary to force one heavy door from its hinges, and to cut through the thick panels of another. the lock and fastenings of the chest were forced by means of a "jack," an instrument known to housebreakers, which if introduced into a keyhole, and worked like a bit and brace, will soon destroy the strongest lock. the thieves were satisfied with the diamonds; they broke open other cases containing gold watches and plate, but abstracted nothing. the police were of opinion that these robberies were both the work of the same hand. but it was not until the autumn that they traced some of the notes stolen from the custom house to jordan and sullivan. about this time also suspicion fell upon huey, one of the clerks, who was arrested soon afterwards, and made a clean breast of the whole affair. there was a hunt for the two well-known house-breakers, who were eventually heard of at a lodging in kennington. but they at once made tracks, and took up their residence under assumed names in a tavern in bloomsbury. the police lost all trace of them for some days, but at length sullivan's brother was followed from the house in kennington to the above-mentioned tavern. both the thieves were now apprehended, but only a small portion of the lost property was recovered, notwithstanding a minute search through the room they had occupied. after their arrest, jordan's wife and sullivan's brother came to the inn, and begged to be allowed to visit this room; but their request, in spite of their earnest entreaties, was refused, at the instigation of the police. a few days later a frequent guest at the tavern arrived, and had this same room allotted to him. a fire was lit in it, and the maid in doing so threw a lot of rubbish, as it seemed, which had accumulated under the grate, on top of the burning coals. by-and-by the occupant of the room noticed something glittering in the centre of the fire, which, to inspect more closely, he took out with the tongs. it was a large gold brooch set in pearls, but a portion of the mounting had melted with the heat. the fire was raked out, and in the ashes were found seven large and four dozen small brilliants, also seven emeralds, one of them of considerable size. a part of the "swag" stolen from the bonded warehouse was thus recovered, but it was supposed that a number of the stolen notes had perished in the fire. the condign punishment meted out to these custom house robbers had no deterrent effect seemingly. within three months, three new and most mysterious burglaries were committed at the west end, all in houses adjoining each other. one was occupied by the portuguese ambassador, who lost a quantity of jewellery from an escritoire, and his neighbours lost plate and cash. not the slightest clue to these large affairs was ever obtained, but it is probable that they were "put up" jobs, or managed with the complicity of servants. the next year twelve thousand sovereigns were cleverly stolen in the mile end road. the gold-dust robbery of , the first of its kind, was cleverly and carefully planned with the assistance of a dishonest _employé_. a young man named caspar, clerk to a steam-ship company, learnt through the firm's correspondence that a quantity of gold-dust brought in a man-of-war from brazil had been transhipped at falmouth for conveyance to london. the letter informed him of the marks and sizes of the cases containing the precious metal, and he with his father arranged that a messenger should call for the stuff with forged credentials, and anticipating the rightful owner. the fraudulent messenger, by the help of young caspar, established his claim to the boxes, paid the wharfage dues, and carried off the gold-dust. presently the proper person arrived from the consignees, but found the gold-dust gone. the police were at once employed, and after infinite pains they discovered the person, one moss, who had acted as the messenger. moss was known to be intimate with the elder caspar, father of the clerk to the steam-ship company, and these facts were deemed sufficient to justify the arrest of all three. they also ascertained that a gold-refiner, solomons, had sold bar gold to the value of £ to certain bullion dealers. solomons was not straightforward in his replies as to where he got the gold, and he was soon placed in the dock with the caspars and moss. moss presently turned approver, and implicated "money moses," another jew, for the whole affair had been planned and executed by members of the hebrew persuasion. "money moses" had received the stolen gold-dust from moss' father-in-law, davis, or isaacs, who was never arrested, and passed it on to solomons by his daughter, a widow named abrahams. solomons was now also admitted as a witness, and his evidence, with that of moss, secured the transportation of the principal actors in the theft. in the course of the trial it came out that almost every one concerned except the caspars had endeavoured to defraud his accomplices. moss peached because he declared he had been done out of the proper price of the gold-dust; but it was clear that he had tried to appropriate the whole of the stuff, instead of handing it or the price of it back to the caspars. "money moses" and mrs. abrahams imposed upon moss as to the price paid by solomons; mrs. abrahams imposed upon her father by abstracting a portion of the dust and selling it on her own account; solomons cheated the whole lot by retaining half the gold in his possession, and only giving an i. o. u. for it, which he refused to redeem on account of the row about the robbery. moses, it may be added, was a direct descendant of ikey solomons.[ ] he was ostensibly a publican, and kept the black lion in vinegar yard, drury lane, where secretly he did business as one of the most daring and successful fencers ever known in the metropolis. his arrest and conviction cast dismay over the whole gang of receivers, and for a time seriously checked the nefarious traffic. it may be added that prison life did not agree with "money moses"; a striking change came over his appearance while in newgate. before his confinement he had been a sleek round person, addicted obviously to the pleasures of the table. he did not thrive on prison fare, now more strictly meagre, thanks to the inspectors and the more stringent discipline, and before he embarked for australia to undergo his fourteen years, he was reported to have fallen away to a shadow. having brought down the records of great frauds, forgeries, and thefts from about to , i will now retrace my steps and give some account of the more remarkable murders during that period. no murder has created greater sensation and horror throughout england than that of mr. weare by thurtell, hunt, and probert. as this was accomplished beyond the limits of the metropolis, and its perpetrators arraigned at hertford, where the principal actor suffered death, the case hardly comes within the limits of my subject. but probert, who turned king's evidence, and materially assisted conviction, was tried at the old bailey the following year for horse-stealing, and hanged in front of newgate. the murder was still fresh in the memory of the populace, and probert was all but lynched on his way to gaol. according to his statement, when sentenced to death, he had been driven to horse-stealing by the execration which had pursued him after the murder. "every door had been closed against him, every hope of future support blasted. since the calamitous event," he went on, "that happened at hertford, i have been a lost man." the event which he styles calamitous we may well characterize as one of the most deliberately atrocious murders on record. thurtell was a gambler, and weare had won a good deal of money from him. weare was supposed to carry a "private bank" about with him in a pocket in his under waistcoat. to obtain possession of this, thurtell with his two associates resolved to kill him. the victim was invited to visit probert's cottage in the country near elstree. thurtell drove him down in a gig, "to be killed as he travelled," in thurtell's own words. the others followed, and on overtaking thurtell, found he had done the job alone in a retired part of the road known as gill's hill lane. the murderer explained that he had first fired a pistol at weare's head, but the shot glanced off his cheek. then he attacked the other's throat with a penknife, and last of all drove the pistol barrel into his forehead. after the murder the villains divided the spoil, and went on to probert's cottage, and supped off pork-chops brought down on purpose. during the night they sought to dispose of the body by throwing it into a pond, but two days later had to throw it into another pond. meanwhile the discovery of pistol and knife spattered with human blood and brains raised the alarm, and suspicion fell upon the three murderers, who were arrested. the crime was brought home to thurtell by the confession of hunt, one of his accomplices, who took the police to the pond, where the remains of the unfortunate mr. weare were discovered, sunk in a sack weighted by stones. probert was then admitted as a witness, and the case was fully proved against thurtell, who was hanged in front of hertford gaol. hunt, in consideration of the information he had given, escaped death, and was sentenced to transportation for life. widespread horror and indignation was evoked throughout the kingdom by the discovery of the series of atrocious murders perpetrated in edinburgh by the miscreants burke and hare, the first of whom has added to the british language a synonym for illegal suppression. the crimes of these inhuman purveyors to medical science do not fall within the limits of this work. but burke and hare had their imitators further south, and of these bishop and williams, who were guilty of many peculiar atrocities, ended their murderous careers in front of the debtors' door at newgate. bishop, whose real name was head, married a half-sister of williams'. williams was a professional resurrectionist, or body-snatcher, a trade almost openly countenanced when "subjects" for the anatomy schools were only to be got by rifling graves, or worse. bishop was a carpenter, but having been suddenly thrown out of work, he joined his brother-in-law in his line of business. after a little bishop got weary of the dangers and fatigues of exhumation, and proposed to williams that instead of disinterring they should murder their subjects. bishop confessed that he was moved to this by the example of burke and hare. they pursued their terrible trade for five years without scruple and without detection. eventually the law overtook them, but almost by accident. they presented themselves about noon one day at the dissecting room of king's college hospital, accompanied by a third man, an avowed "snatcher" and _habitué_ of the fortune of war, a public-house in smithfield frequented openly by men of this awful profession. this man, may, asked the porter at king's college if "he wanted anything?" the euphemism for offering a body. the porter asked what he had got, and the answer was, a male subject. reference was made to mr. partridge, the demonstrator in anatomy, and after some haggling they agreed on a price, and in the afternoon the snatchers brought a hamper which contained a body in a sack. the porter received it, but from its freshness became suspicious of foul play. mr. partridge was sent for, and he with some of the students soon decided that the corpse had not died a natural death. the snatchers were detained, the police sent for, and arrest followed as a matter of course. an inquest was held on the body, which was identified as that of an italian boy, carlo ferrari, who made a living by exhibiting white mice about the streets, and the jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against persons unknown, expressing a strong opinion that bishop, williams, and may had been concerned in the transaction. meanwhile, a search had been made at nova scotia gardens, bethnal green, where bishop and williams lived. at first nothing peculiar was found; but at a second search the back-garden ground was dug up, and in one corner, at some depth, a bundle of clothes were unearthed, which, with a hairy cap, were known to be what ferrari had worn when last seen. in another portion of the garden more clothing, partly male and partly female, was discovered, plainly pointing to the perpetration of other crimes. these facts were represented before the police magistrate who examined bishop and his fellows, and further incriminating evidence adduced, to the effect that the prisoners had bartered for a coach to carry "a stiff 'un"; they had also been seen to leave their cottage, carrying out a sack with something heavy inside. on this they were fully committed to newgate for trial. this trial came off in due course at the central criminal court, where the prisoners were charged on two counts, one that of the murder of the italian boy, the other that of a boy unknown. the evidence from first to last was circumstantial, but the jury, after a short deliberation, did not hesitate to bring in a verdict of guilty, and all three were condemned to death. shortly before the day fixed for execution, bishop made a full confession, the bulk of which bore the impress of truth, although it included statements that were improbable and unsubstantiated. he asserted that the victim was a lincolnshire lad, and not an italian boy, although the latter was fully proved. according to the confession, death had been inflicted by drowning in a well, whereas the medical evidence all pointed to violence. it was, however, pretty clear that this victim, like preceding ones, had been lured to nova scotia gardens, and there drugged with a large dose of laudanum. while they were in a state of insensibility the murder was committed. bishop's confession was endorsed by williams, and the immediate result was the respite of may. a very painful scene occurred in newgate when the news of his escape from death was imparted to may. he fainted, and the warrant of mercy nearly proved his death-blow. the other two looked on at his agitation with an indifference amounting to apathy. the execution took place a week or two later, in the presence of such a crowd as had not been seen near newgate for years. i will close this chapter with a brief account of another murder, the memory of which is still fresh in the minds of londoners, although half a century has passed since it was committed. the horror with which greenacre's crime struck the town was unparalleled since the time when catherine hayes slew her husband. there were many features of resemblance in these crimes. the decapitation and dismemberment, the bestowal of the remains in various parts of the town, the preservation of the head in spirits of wine, in the hope that the features might some day be recognized, were alike in both. the murder in both cases was long a profound mystery. in this which i am now describing, a bricklayer found a human trunk near some new buildings in the edgeware road, one morning in the last week of . the inquest on these remains, which medical examination showed to be those of a female, returned a verdict of wilful murder against some person unknown. on the th july, , the lockman of "ben jonson lock," in stepney fields, found a human head jammed into the lock gates. closer investigation proved that it belonged to the trunk already discovered on the nd february. a further discovery was made in an osier bed near cold harbour lane, camberwell, where a workman found a bundle containing two human legs, in a drain. these were the missing members of the same mutilated trunk, and there was now evidence sufficient to establish conclusively that the woman thus collected piecemeal had been barbarously done to death. but the affair still remained a profound mystery. no light was thrown upon it till, towards the end of march, a mr. gay of goodge street came to view the head, and immediately recognized it as that of a widowed sister, hannah brown, who had been missing since the previous christmas day. the murdered individual was thus identified. the next step was to ascertain where and with whom she had last been seen. this brought suspicion on to a certain james greenacre, whom she was to have married, and in whose company she had left her own lodgings to visit his in camberwell. the police wished to refer to greenacre, but as he was not forthcoming, a warrant was issued for his apprehension, which was effected at kennington on the th march. a woman named gale, who lived with him, was arrested at the same time. the prisoners were examined at the marylebone police court. greenacre, a stout, middle-aged man, wrapped in a brown greatcoat, assumed an air of insolent bravado; but his despair must have been great, as was evident from his attempt to strangle himself in the station-house. suspicion grew almost to certainty as the evidence was unfolded. mrs. brown was a washer-woman, supposed to be worth some money; hence greenacre's offer of marriage. she had realized all her effects, and brought them with her furniture to greenacre's lodgings. the two when married were to emigrate to hudson's bay. whether it was greed or a quarrel that drove greenacre to the desperate deed remains obscure. they were apparently good friends when last seen together at a neighbour's, where they seemed "perfectly happy and sociable, and eager for the wedding day." but greenacre in his confession pretended that he and his intended had quarrelled over her property or the want of it, and that in a moment of anger he knocked her down. he thought he had killed her, and in his terror began at once to consider how he might dispose of the body and escape arrest. while she was senseless, but really still alive, he cut off her head, and dismembered the body in the manner already described. it is scarcely probable that he would have gone to this extremity if he had had no previous evil intention, and the most probable inference is that he inveigled mrs. brown to his lodgings with the set purpose of taking her life. his measures for the disposal of the _corpus delicti_ remind us of those taken by mrs. hayes and her associates, or of gardelle's frantic efforts to conceal his crime. the most ghastly part of the story is that which deals with his getting rid of the head. this, wrapped up in a silk handkerchief, he carried under his coat-flaps through the streets, and afterwards on his cap in a crowded city omnibus. it was not until he left the 'bus, and walked up by the regent's canal, that he conceived the idea of throwing the head into the water. another day elapsed before he got rid of the rest of the body, all of which, according to his own confession, made no doubt with the idea of exonerating mrs. gale, he accomplished without her assistance. on the other hand, it was adduced in evidence that mrs. gale had been at his lodgings the very day after the murder, and was seen to be busily engaged in washing down the house with bucket and mop. greenacre, when tried at the old bailey, admitted that he had been guilty of manslaughter. while conversing with mrs. brown, he declared the unfortunate woman was rocking herself to and fro in a chair; as she leant back he put his foot against the chair, and so tilted it over. mrs. brown fell with it, and greenacre, to his horror, found that she was dead. but the medical evidence was clear that the decapitation had been effected during life, and the jury, after a short deliberation, without hesitation brought in a verdict of wilful murder. the woman gale was also found guilty, but sentence of death was only passed on greenacre. the execution was, as usual, attended by an immense concourse, and greenacre died amidst the loudest execrations. gale was sentenced to penal servitude for life. chapter viii. newgate notorieties (_continued_). increase in crimes of fraud--edward beaumont smith--casting away ships--the 'dryad'--wrecked by the wallaces--another clergyman-forger, dr. bailey--the barber fletcher frauds to obtain unclaimed stock in the funds--the bank of england robbed by one of its clerks of £ --other daring robberies--burglaries at windsor castle and buckingham palace--ingenious plate robbery at lord fitzgerald's in belgrave square--stealing plate from clubs by a member--a large parcel of rough diamonds stolen--more murders--the valet courvoisier murders his master, lord william russell--his trial and sentence--his confession, attempted suicide, and demeanour at the scaffold--daniel good murders his wife--strange discovery of the crime--pursuit and arrest of the murderer--hocker kills mr. delarue--murderer cannot tear himself from the scene of his crime--epidemic of murder in - --rush--gleeson wilson--the mannings and their victim, o'connor--the cold-blooded scheme--how carried out, and how discovered--one of the first instances of the employment of the electric telegraph to arrest the murderers--their trial--violent conduct of mrs. manning--the execution at horsemonger lane gaol--charles dickens on this execution--other murderers--robert marley--cannon, the chimney-sweep, who makes a murderous assault upon and nearly killed a policeman--mobbs, the brutal husband--barthelemy--series of gigantic frauds, commencing in --walter watts, the inventor of the new crime--the two lives he led--immense defalcations--sentenced for stealing a bit of paper value one penny--commits suicide--the forgeries of r. f. pries--those of joseph windle cole--raises funds on fictitious dock warrants--the bankers messrs. strahan, paul, and bates tried for disposing of securities they held on deposit--systematic embezzlement by robson, a clerk in the crystal palace company--lionel redpath carries on still more audacious frauds--his way of life--a patron of art, and foremost in all good works--his detection and flight--is captured, tried, and sentenced to transportation--big prizes still to be had by daring thieves--the bullion robbery on the south-eastern--how planned and carried out--detected by accident--the bold and systematic forgeries of saward, or jem the penman--his method--how caught--sentenced to transportation. as the century advanced crimes of fraud increased. they not only became more numerous, but they were on a wider scale. the most extensive and systematic robberies were planned and carried out so as long to escape detection. one of the earliest of the big operators in fraudulent finance was edward beaumont smith, who was convicted in of uttering false exchequer bills to an almost fabulous amount. a not entirely novel kind of fraud, but one carried out on a larger scale than heretofore, came to light in this same year, . this was the wilful shipwreck and casting away of a vessel which, with her supposed cargo, had been heavily insured. the 'dryad' was a brig owned principally by two persons named wallace, one a seaman, the other merchant. she was freighted by the firm of zulueta and co. for a voyage to santa cruz. her owners insured her for a full sum of £ , after which the wallaces insured her privily with other underwriters for a second sum of £ . after this, on the faith of forced bills of lading, the captain, loose by name, being a party to the intended fraud, they obtained further insurances on goods never shipped. it was fully proved in evidence that when the 'dryad' sailed she carried nothing but the cargo belonging to zulueta and co. yet the wallaces pretended to have put on board quantities of flannels, cloths, cotton prints, beef, pork, butter, and earthenwares, on all of which they effected insurances. loose had his instructions to cast away the ship on the first possible opportunity, and from the time of his leaving liverpool he acted in a manner which excited the suspicions of the crew. the larboard pump was suffered to remain choked up, and the long-boat was fitted with tackles and held ready for use at a moment's notice. the ship, however, met with exasperatingly fine weather, and it was not until the captain reached the west india islands that he got a chance of accomplishing his crime. at a place called the silver keys he ran the ship on the reef. but another ship, concluding that he was acting in ignorance, rendered him assistance. the 'dryad' was got off, repaired, and her voyage renewed to santa cruz. he crept along the coast close in shore, looking for a quiet spot to cast away the ship, and at last, when within fifteen miles of port, with wind and weather perfectly fair, he ran her on to the rocks. even then she might have been saved, but the captain would not suffer the crew to act. nearly the whole of the cargo was lost as well as the ship. the captain and crew, however, got safely to jamaica, and so to england; the captain dying on the voyage home. the crime soon became public. mate, carpenter, and crew were eager to disavow complicity, and voluntarily gave information. the wallaces were arrested, committed to newgate, and tried at the old bailey. the case was clearly proved against them, and both were sentenced to transportation for life. while lying in newgate, awaiting removal to the convict ship, both prisoners made full confessions. according to their own statements the loss of the 'dryad' was only one of six intentional shipwrecks with which they had been concerned. the crime of fraudulent insurance they declared was very common, and the underwriters must have lost great sums in this way. the merchant wallace said he had been led into the crime by the advice and example of a city friend who had gone largely into this nefarious business; this wallace added that his friend had made several voyages with the distinct intention of superintending the predetermined shipwrecks. the other wallace, the sailor, also traced his lapse into crime to evil counsel. he was an honest sea-captain, he said, trading from liverpool, where once he had the misfortune to be introduced to a man of wealth, the foundations of which had been laid by buying old ships on purpose to cast them away. this person made much of wallace, encouraged his attentions to his daughter, and tempted him to take to fraudulent insurance as a certain method of achieving fortune. wallace's relations warned him against his liverpool friend, but he would not take their advice, and developing his transactions, ended as we have seen. a clergyman nearly a century later followed in the steps of dr. dodd, but did not under more humane laws lose his life. the rev. w. bailey, ll.d., was convicted at the central criminal court, in february , of forgery. a notorious miser, robert smith, had recently died in seven dials, where he had amassed a considerable fortune. but among the charges on the estate he left was a promissory note for £ , produced by dr. bailey, and purporting to be signed by smith. the executors to the estate disputed the validity of this document. miss bailey, the doctor's sister, in whose favour the note was said to have been given, then brought an action against the administrators, and at the trial dr. bailey swore that the note had been given him by smith. the jury did not believe him, and the verdict was for the defendants. subsequently bailey was arrested on a charge of forgery, and after a long trial found guilty. his sentence was transportation for life. a gigantic conspiracy to defraud was discovered in the following year, when a solicitor named william henry barber, joshua fletcher a surgeon, and three others were charged with forging wills for the purpose of obtaining unclaimed stock in the funds. there were two separate affairs. in the first a maiden lady, miss slack, who was the possessor of two separate sums in consols, neglected through strange carelessness on her own part and that of her friends to draw the dividends on more than one sum. the other, remaining unclaimed for ten years, was transferred at the end of that time to the commissioners for the reduction of the national debt. barber, it was said, became aware of this, and that he gained access to miss slack on pretence of conveying to her some funded property left her by an aunt. by this means her signature was obtained; a forged will was prepared bequeathing the unclaimed stock to miss slack; a note purporting to be from miss slack was addressed to the governor of the bank of england, begging that the said stock might be handed over to her, and a person calling herself miss slack duly attended at the bank, where the money was handed over to her in proper form. a second will, also forged, was propounded at doctors commons as that of a mrs. hunt of bristol. mrs. hunt had left money in the funds which remained unclaimed, and had been transferred, as in miss slack's case. here again the money, with ten years' interest, was handed over to barber and another calling himself thomas hunt, an executor of the will. it was shown that the will must be a forgery, as its signature was dated , whereas mrs. hunt actually died in . a third similar fraud to the amount of £ was also brought to light. fletcher was the moving spirit of the whole business. it was he who had introduced barber to miss slack, and held all the threads of these intricate and nefarious transactions. barber and fletcher were both transported for life, although fletcher declared that barber was innocent, and had no guilty knowledge of what was being done. barber was subsequently pardoned, but was not replaced on the rolls as an attorney till , when lord campbell delivered judgment on barber's petition, to the effect that "the evidence to establish his (barber's) connivance in the frauds was too doubtful for us to continue his exclusion any longer." banks and bankers continued to be victimized. in the bank of england was defrauded of a sum of £ by one of its clerks, burgess, in conjunction with an accomplice named elder. burgess fraudulently transferred consols to the above amount, standing in the name of mr. oxenford, to another party. a person, elder of course, who personated oxenford, attended at the bank to complete the transfer and sell the stock. burgess, who was purposely on leave from the bank, effected the sale, which was paid for with a cheque for nearly the whole amount on lubbock's bank. burgess and elder proceeded in company to cash this, but as they wanted all gold, the cashier gave them eight bank of england notes for £ each, saying that they could get so much specie nowhere else. thither elder went alone, provided with a number of canvas and one large carpet-bag. but when the latter was filled with gold it was too heavy to lift, and elder had to be assisted by two bank porters, who carried it for him to a carriage waiting near the mansion house. the thieves, for elder was soon joined by burgess, drove together to ben caunt's, the pugilist's, public-house in st. martin's lane, where the cash was transferred from the carpet-bag to a portmanteau. the same evening both started for liverpool, and embarking on board the mail steamer 'britannia,' escaped to the united states. burgess' continued absence was soon noticed at the bank. suspicions were aroused when it was found that he had been employed in selling stock for mr. oxenford, which developed into certainty as soon as that gentleman was referred to. mr. oxenford having denied that he had made any transfer of stock, the matter was at once put into the hands of the police. a smart detective, forrester, after a little inquiry, established the fact that the man who had personated mr. oxenford was a horse-dealer named joseph elder, an intimate acquaintance of burgess'. forrester next traced the fugitives to liverpool, and thence to halifax, whither he followed them, accompanied by a confidential clerk from the bank. at halifax forrester learnt that the men he wanted had gone on to boston, thence to buffalo and canada, and back to boston. he found them at length residing at the latter place, one as a landed proprietor, the other as a publican. elder, the former, was soon apprehended at his house, but he evaded the law by hanging himself with his pocket-handkerchief. the inn belonging to burgess was surrounded, but he escaped through a back door on to the river, and rowed off in a boat to a hiding-place in the woods. next day a person betrayed him for the reward, and he was soon captured. the proceeds of the robbery were lodged in a boston bank, but four hundred sovereigns were found on elder, while two hundred more were found in burgess' effects. burgess was eventually brought back to england, tried at the central criminal court, and sentenced to transportation for life. within a month or two the bank of messrs. rogers and co., clement's lane, was broken into. robberies as daring in conception as they were boldly executed were common enough. one night a quantity of plate was stolen from windsor castle; another time buckingham palace was robbed. of this class was the ingenious yet peculiarly simple robbery effected at the house of lord fitzgerald in belgrave square. the butler, on the occasion of a death in the family, when the house was in some confusion, arranged with a burglar to come in, and with another carry off the plate-chest in broad daylight, and as a matter of business. no one interfered or asked any questions. the thief walked into the house in belgrave square, and openly carried off the plate-chest, deposited it in a light cart at the door, and drove away. howse, the steward, accused the other servants, but they retorted, declaring that he had been visited by the thief the day previous, whom he had shown over the plate closet. howse and his accomplice were arrested; the former was found guilty and sentenced to fifteen years, but the latter was acquitted. stealing plate was about this period the crime of a more aristocratic thief. the club spoons and other articles of plate were long a source of profitable income to a gentleman named ashley, who belonged to five good london clubs--the junior united service, the union, reform, colonial, and erecthæum clubs. when one of these clubs was taken in at the army and navy, that establishment also suffered. suspicion fell at length upon ashley, who was seen to handle the forks and spoons at table in a strange manner. a watch was set on his house, in allington street, pimlico, and one day a police constable tracked him to a silversmith's in holborn hill, where ashley produced four silver spoons, and begged that his initials might be engraved upon them. ashley was arrested as he left the shop; the spoons were impounded, and it was found that the club monogram had been erased from them. on a search of the prisoner's lodgings in allington street, a silver fork was found, a number of pawnbrokers' duplicates, and three small files. it was proved at the trial that ashley had asked his landlady for brick-dust and leather, and it was contended that these with the files were used to alter the marks on the plate. at most of the clubs the servants had been mulcted to make good lost plate, which had no doubt been stolen by the prisoner. several pawnbrokers were subpoenaed and obliged to surrender plate, to the extent in some cases of a couple of dozen of spoons or forks, which the various club secretaries identified as the property of their respective clubs. ashley was the son of an army agent and banker, and many witnesses were brought to attest to his previous good character, but he was found guilty and sentenced to seven years' transportation. a robbery of a somewhat novel kind was executed in rather a bungling fashion by ker, a sea-captain, whose ship brought home a mixed cargo from bahia and other ports. part of the freight were four hundred rough diamonds valued at £ . these packages were consigned to messrs. shroeder of london; and as it was known that they were to arrive in ker's ship, one of the owners had met her at deal, but the captain had already absconded with the packages of precious stones in his pocket. ker came at once to london, and, by the help of the landlord of a public-house in smithfield and others, disposed of the whole of the diamonds. a jew named benjamin effected the sale to certain merchants named blogg and martin, who declared that the rough diamond market was in such a depressed condition that they could only afford to give £ for stones worth £ . the circumstances of this purchase of brilliants from a stranger at such an inadequate price was strongly commented upon at ker's trial. the moment it was discovered that the diamonds had disappeared, the affair was taken up by the police. forrester, the detective who had pursued and captured burgess at boston,[ ] tracked ker to france, and following him there, eventually captured him at montreuil. he was arraigned at the old bailey, and the case fully proved. his sentence was seven years' transportation. the gravest crimes continued at intervals to inspire the town with horror, and concentrate public attention upon the gaol of newgate, and the murderers immured within its walls. courvoisier's case made a great stir. there was unusual atrocity in this murder of an aged, infirm gentleman, a scion of the ducal house of bedford, by his confidential valet and personal attendant. lord william russell lived alone in norfolk street, park lane. he was a widower, and seventy-three years of age. one morning in may his lordship was found dead in his bed with his throat cut. the fact of the murder was first discovered by the housemaid, who, on going down early, was surprised to find the dining-room in a state of utter confusion; the furniture turned upside down, the drawers of the escritoire open and rifled, a bundle lying on the floor, as though thieves had been interrupted in the act. the housemaid summoned the cook, and both went to call the valet, courvoisier, who came from his room ready dressed, a suspicious circumstance, as he was always late in the morning. the housemaid suggested that they should see if his lordship was all right, and the three went to his bed-room. while courvoisier opened the shutters, the housemaid, approaching the bed, saw that the pillow was saturated with blood. [illustration: courvoisier.] the discovery of the murdered man immediately followed. the neighbourhood was alarmed, the police sent for, and a close inquiry forthwith commenced. that lord william russell had committed suicide was at once declared impossible. it was also clearly proved that no forcible entry had been made into the house; the fresh marks of violence upon the door had evidently been made inside, and not from outside; moreover, the instruments, poker and chisel, by which they had no doubt been effected, were found in the butler's pantry, used by courvoisier. the researches of the police soon laid bare other suspicious facts. the bundle found in the dining-room contained, with clothes, various small articles of plate and jewellery which a thief would probably have put into his pocket. upstairs in the bed-room a _rouleaux_ box for sovereigns had been broken open, also the jewel-box and note-case, from the latter of which was abstracted a ten-pound note known to have been in the possession of the deceased. his lordship's watch was gone. further suspicion was caused by the position of a book and a wax candle by the bedside. the latter was so placed that it could throw no light on the former, which was a 'life of sir samuel romilly.' the intention of the real murderer to shift the crime to burglars was evident although futile, and the police, feeling convinced that the crime had been committed by some inmate of the house, took courvoisier into custody, and placed the two female servants under surveillance. the valet's strange demeanour had attracted attention from the first. he had hung over the body in a state of dreadful agitation, answering no questions, and taking no part in the proceedings. three days later a close search of the butler's pantry produced fresh circumstantial evidence. behind the skirting board several of his lordship's rings were discovered; near it was his waterloo medal, and the above-mentioned ten-pound note. further investigation was rewarded by the discovery in the pantry of a split gold ring, used by lord william to carry his keys on; next, and in the same place, a chased gold key; and at last his lordship's watch was found secreted under the leads of the sink. all this was evidence sufficient to warrant courvoisier's committal for trial; but still he found friends, and a liberal subscription was raised among the foreign servants in london to provide funds for his defence. courvoisier, when put on his trial, pleaded not guilty; but on the second day the discovery of fresh evidence, more particularly the recovery of some of lord william's stolen plate, induced the prisoner to make a full confession of his crime to the lawyers who defended him. this placed them in a position of much embarrassment. to have thrown up their brief would have been to have secured courvoisier's conviction. mr. phillips, who led in the case, went to the other extreme, and in an impassioned address implored the jury not to send an innocent man to the gallows. it will be remembered that the question whether mr. phillips had not exceeded the limits usually allowed to counsel was much debated at the time. the jury without hesitation found courvoisier guilty, and he was sentenced to death. the prisoner's demeanour had greatly changed during the trial. coolness amounting almost to effrontery gave way to hopeless dejection. on his removal to newgate after sentence, he admitted that he had been justly convicted, and expressed great anxiety that his fellow-servants should be relieved from all suspicion. later in the day he tried to commit suicide by cramming a towel down his throat, but was prevented. next morning he made a full confession in presence of his attorney, and the governor, mr. cope. in this he gave as the motives of his crime a quarrel he had with his master, who threatened to discharge him without a character. lord william, according to the valet, was of a peevish, difficult temper; he was annoyed with his man for various small omissions and acts of forgetfulness, and on the night of the murder had taken courvoisier to task rather sharply. finally, on coming downstairs after bed-time, lord william had found courvoisier in the dining-room. "what are you doing here?" asked his lordship. "you can have no good intentions; you must quit my service to-morrow morning." this seems to have decided courvoisier, who took a carving-knife from the sideboard in the dining-room, went upstairs to lord william's bed-room, and drew the knife across his throat. "he appeared to die instantly," said the murderer, in conclusion. his account of his acts and movements after the deed varied so considerably in the several documents he left behind, that too much reliance cannot be placed upon his confession. his last statement contains the words, "the public now think i am a liar, and they will not believe me when i say the truth." this was no doubt the case, but this much truth his confession may be taken to contain: that courvoisier was idle, discontented, ready to take offence, greedy of gain; that he could not resist the opportunity for robbery offered him by his situation at lord william russell's; that when vexed with his master he did not shrink from murder, both for revenge and to conceal his other crimes. courvoisier wished to commit suicide in newgate, but was prevented by the vigilant supervision to which he was subjected while in gaol. the attempt was to have been made by opening a vein and allowing himself to bleed to death. the sunday night before his execution he would not go to bed when ordered. the governor insisted, but courvoisier showed great reluctance to strip. the order was, however, at length obeyed, and the whole of the prisoner's clothes were minutely searched. in the pocket of the coat mr. cope, the governor, found a neatly-folded cloth, and asked what it was for. courvoisier admitted that he had intended to bind it tightly round his arm and bleed himself to death in the night. the next inquiry was how he hoped to open a vein. "with a bit of sharpened stick picked out of the ordinary firewood." "where is it?" asked the governor. the prisoner replied that he had left it in the mattress of which he had just been deprived. the bed was searched, but no piece of sharpened wood was found. it was thought that it might have been lost in changing the mattresses. the cloth above referred to belonged to the inner seam of his trousers, which he had managed to tear out. there is nothing to show that courvoisier really contemplated self-destruction. a murder which reproduced many of the features of that committed by greenacre soon followed, and excited the public mind even more than that of courvoisier's. daniel good's crime might have remained long undiscovered but for his own careless stupidity. he was coachman to a gentleman at roehampton. one day he went into a pawnbroker's at wandsworth, and bought a pair of breeches on credit. at the same time he was seen to steal and secrete a pair of trousers. the shop-boy gave information. good was followed to his stables by a policeman, but obstinately denied the theft. the policeman insisted on searching the premises, at which good displayed some uneasiness. this increased when the officer, accompanied by two others, a neighbour and a bailiff, entered one of the stables. good now offered to go to wandsworth and satisfy the pawnbroker. just at this moment, however, the searchers found concealed under two trusses of hay a woman's headless and dismembered trunk. at the constable's cry of alarm good rushed from the stable and locked the door behind him. some time elapsed before the imprisoned party could force open the doors, and by then the fugitive had escaped. medical assistance having been summoned, it was ascertained how the dismemberment had been effected. at the same time an overpowering odour attracted them to the adjoining harness-room, where the missing remains were raked out half consumed in the ashes of a wood fire. in the same room a large axe and saw were found covered with blood. inquiry into the character of good exposed him as a loose liver, who "kept company" with several women. one called his sister, but supposed to be his wife, had occupied a room in south street, manchester square, with a son of good's by a former wife. another wife, real or fictitious, existed in spitalfields, and evidence was given of close relation between good and a third woman, a girl named butcher, residing at woolwich. the victim was the first of these three. good had told her, much to her perturbation, that she was to move from south street to roehampton, and one day he fetched her. they were seen together on barnes common, and again in putney park lane, where they were talking loud and angrily. the poor creature was never seen again alive. the actual method of the murder was never exactly ascertained. good himself remained at large for some weeks. he had tramped as far as tunbridge, where he obtained work as a bricklayer's labourer; he there gave satisfaction for industry, but he was taciturn, and would hold no converse with his fellows. the woman where he lodged noticed that he was very restless at night, moaning and sighing much. detection came unexpectedly. he was recognized by an ex-policeman who had known him at roehampton, and immediately arrested. in his effects were found the clothes he had on at the time of his escape from the stables, and under the jacket he was wearing was a piece of a woman's calico apron stained with blood, which he had used to save the pressure on his shoulder by the hod. good was committed to newgate, and tried at the central criminal court before a crowded court. he made a rambling defence, ending by saying, "good ladies and gentlemen all, i have a great deal more to say, but i am so bad i cannot say it." the case was clearly proved against him, and he was condemned, sentenced, and duly executed. hocker's murder is in its way interesting, as affording another proof of the extraordinary way in which the culprit returned to the scene of his guilt. the cries of his victim, a mr. delarue, brought passers-by and policemen to the spot, a lonely place near a dead wall beyond belsize hall, hampstead, but too late to give substantial aid. while the body lay there still warm, battered and bleeding from the cruel blows inflicted upon him by his cowardly assailant, a man came by singing. he entered into conversation with the policemen, and learnt, as it seemed for the first time, what had happened. his remark was, "it is a nasty job;" he took hold of the dead hand, and confessed that he felt "queer" at the shocking sight. this sight was his own handiwork, yet he could not overcome the strange fascination it had for him, and remained by the side of the corpse till the stretcher came. even then he followed it as far as belsize lane. it was here that the others engaged in their dismal office in removing the dead first got a good look at the stranger's face. he wanted a light for a cigar, and got it from a lantern which was lifted up and fully betrayed his features. it was noticed that he wore a mackintosh. next day the police, in making a careful search of the scene of the murder, picked up a coat-button, which afterwards played an important part in the identification of the murderer. a letter, which afforded an additional clue, was also found in the pocket of the deceased. still it was many weeks before any arrest was made. in the mean time the police were not idle. it came out by degrees that the person who had been seen in belsize lane on the night the body was found was a friend of the deceased. his name was hocker; he was by trade a ladies' shoemaker; and it was also ascertained that after the day of the murder he was flush of money. he was soon afterwards arrested on suspicion, and a search of his lodgings brought to light several garments saturated with blood; a coat among them much torn and stained, with three buttons missing, one of which corresponded with that picked up at hampstead. the letter found in the pocket of the deceased was sealed with a wafer marked f, and many of the same sort were found in the possession of the accused. this was enough to obtain a committal, after several remands; but the case contained elements of doubt, and the evidence at the trial was entirely circumstantial. a witness deposed to meeting hocker, soon after the cries of murder were heard, running at a dog-trot into london, and others swore that they plainly recognized him as the man seen soon afterwards in the lane. a woman whom he called on the same evening declared he had worn a mackintosh, his coat was much torn, there was a stain of blood on his shirt-cuff, and he was in possession, the first time to her knowledge, of a watch. this was delarue's watch, fully identified as such, which hocker told his brother delarue had given him the morning of the murder. these were damnatory facts which well supported the prosecution. the prisoner made an elaborate defence, in which he sought to vilify the character of deceased as the seducer of an innocent girl to whom he (hocker) had been fondly attached. when her ruin was discovered her brother panted for revenge. hocker, whose skill in counterfeiting handwriting was known, was asked to fabricate a letter making an assignation with delarue in a lonely part of hampstead. hocker and the brother went to the spot, where the latter left him to meet his sister's seducer alone. soon afterwards hocker heard cries of "murder," and proceeding to where they came from, found delarue dead, slain by the furious brother. hocker was so overcome, feeling himself the principal cause of the tragedy, that he rushed to a slaughter-house in hampstead and purposely stained his clothes with blood. such an extravagant defence did not weigh with judge or jury; the first summed up dead against the prisoner, and the latter, after retiring for ten minutes, found him guilty. hocker's conduct in newgate while under sentence of death was most extraordinary. he drew up several long statements, containing narratives purely fictitious, imputing crimes to his victim, and repeating his line of defence, that delarue had suffered by the hands of imaginary outraged brothers acting as the avengers of females deeply injured by him. hocker made several pretended confessions and revelations, all of which were proved to be absolutely false by the police on inquiry. his demeanour was a strange compound of wickedness, falsehood, and deceit. but at the fatal hour his hardihood forsook him, and he was almost insensible when taken out of his cell for execution. restoratives were applied, but he was in a fainting condition when tied, and had to be supported by the assistant executioner while calcraft adjusted the noose. there was an epidemic of murder in the united kingdom about - . in november of the first-named year occurred the wholesale slaughter of the jermys in their house, stanfield hall, by the miscreant rush. soon afterwards, in gloucestershire, a maidservant, sarah thomas, murdered her mistress, an aged woman, by beating out her brains with a stone. next year john gleeson wilson, at liverpool, murdered a woman, ann henrichson, also a maidservant and two children; while in ireland a wife dashed out her husband's brains with a hammer. london did not escape the contagion, and prominent among the detestable crimes of the period stands that of the mannings at bermondsey. these great criminals suffered at horsemonger lane gaol, but they were tried at the central criminal court, and were for some time inmates of newgate. their victim was a man named patrick o'connor, a custom-house gauger, who had been a suitor of marie de roux before she became mrs. manning. marie de roux up to the time of her marriage had been in service as lady's-maid to lady blantyre, daughter of the duchess of sutherland, and manning hoped to get some small government appointment through his wife's interest. he had failed in this as well as in the business of a publican, which he had at one time adopted. after the marriage a close intimacy was still maintained between o'connor and the mannings. he lived at mile end, whence he walked often to call at , minver place, bermondsey, the residence of his old love. o'connor was a man of substance. he had long followed the profitable trade of a money-lender, and by dint of usurious interest on small sums advanced to needy neighbours, had amassed as much as £ or £ , . his wealth was well known to "maria," as he called mrs. manning, who made several ineffectual attempts to get money out of him. at last this fiendish woman made up her mind to murder o'connor and appropriate all his possessions. her husband, to whom she coolly confided her intention, a heavy brutish fellow, was yet aghast at his wife's resolve, and tried hard to dissuade her from her bad purpose. in his confession after sentence he declared that she plied him well with brandy at this period, and that during the whole time he was never in his right senses. meanwhile this woman, unflinching in her cold, bloody determination, carefully laid all her plans for the consummation of the deed. one fine afternoon in august, o'connor was met walking in the direction of bermondsey. he was dressed with particular care, as he was to dine at the mannings and meet friends, one a young lady. he was seen afterwards smoking and talking with his hosts in their back parlour, and never seen again alive. it came out in the husband's confession that mrs. manning induced o'connor to go down to the kitchen to wash his hands, that she followed him to the basement, that she stood behind him as he stood near the open grave she herself had dug for him, and which he mistook for a drain, and that while he was speaking to her she put the muzzle of a pistol close to the back of his head and shot him down. she ran upstairs, told her husband, made him go down to look at her handiwork, and as o'connor was not quite dead, manning gave the _coup de grâce_ with a crowbar. after this mrs. manning changed her dress and went off in a cab to o'connor's lodgings, which, having possessed herself of the murdered man's keys, she rifled from end to end. returning to her own home, where manning meantime had been calmly smoking and talking to the neighbours over the basement wall, the corpse lying just inside the kitchen all the while, the two set to work to strip the body and hide it under the stones of the floor. this job was not completed till the following day, as the hole had to be enlarged, and the only tool they had was a dust-shovel. a quantity of quicklime was thrown in with the body to destroy all identification. this was on a thursday evening. for the remainder of that week and part of the next the murderers stayed in the house, and occupied the kitchen, close to the remains of their victim. on the sunday mrs. manning roasted a goose at this same kitchen fire, and ate it with relish in the afternoon. this cold-blooded indifference after the event was only outdone by the premeditation of this horrible murder. the hole must have been excavated and the quicklime purchased quite three weeks before o'connor met his death, and during that time he must frequently have stood or sat over his own grave. discovery of the murder came in this wise. o'connor, a punctual and well-conducted official, was at once missed at the london docks. on the third day his friends began to inquire for him, and at their request two police officers were sent to bermondsey to inquire for him at the mannings, with whom it was well known that he was very intimate. the mannings had seen or heard nothing of him, of course. as o'connor still did not turn up, the police after a couple of days returned to minver place. the house was empty, bare and stripped of all its furniture, and its former occupants had decamped. the circumstance was suspicious, and a search was at once made of the whole premises. in the back kitchen one of the detectives remarked that the cement between certain stones looked lighter than the rest, and on trying it with a knife, he found that it was soft and new, while elsewhere it was set and hard. the stones were at once taken up; beneath them was a layer of fresh mortar, beneath that a lot of loose earth, amongst which a stocking was turned up, and presently a human toe. six inches lower the body of o'connor was uncovered. he was lying on his face, his legs tied up to his hips so as to allow of the body fitting into the hole. the lime had done its work so rapidly that the features would have been indistinguishable but for the prominent chin and a set of false teeth. the corpse settled all doubts, and the next point was to lay hands upon the mannings. it was soon ascertained that the wife had gone off in a cab with a quantity of luggage. part of this she had deposited to be left till called for at one station, while she had gone herself to another, that at euston square. at the first the boxes were impounded, opened, and found to contain many of o'connor's effects. at the second exact information was obtained of mrs. manning's movements. she had gone to edinburgh. a telegraphic message, then newly adapted to the purposes of criminal detection, advised the edinburgh police of the whole affair, and within an hour an answer was telegraphed, stating that mrs. manning was in custody. she had been to brokers to negotiate the sale of certain foreign railway stock, with which they had been warned from london not to deal, and they had given information to the police. her arrest was planned, and, when the telegram arrived from london, completed. an examination of her boxes disclosed a quantity of o'connor's property. mrs. manning was transferred to london and lodged in the horsemonger lane gaol, where her husband soon afterwards joined her. he had fled to jersey, where he was recognized and arrested. each tried to throw the blame on the other; manning declared his wife had committed the murder, mrs. manning indignantly denied the charge. the prisoners were in due course transferred to newgate, to be put upon their trial at the central criminal court. a great number of distinguished people assembled as usual at the old bailey on the day of trial. the mannings were arraigned together; the husband standing at one of the front corners of the dock, his wife at the other end. manning, who was dressed in black, appeared to be a heavy, bull-necked, repulsive-looking man, with a very fair complexion and light hair. mrs. manning was not without personal charms; her face was comely, she had dark hair and good eyes, and was above the middle height, yet inclined to be stout. she was smartly dressed in a plaid shawl, a white lace cap; her hair was dressed in long _crêpe_ bands. she had lace ruffles at her wrist, and wore primrose-coloured kid gloves. the case rested upon the facts which have been already set forth, and was proved to the satisfaction of the jury, who brought in a verdict of guilty. manning, when sentence of death was passed on him, said nothing; but mrs. manning, speaking in a foreign accent, addressed the court with great fluency and vehemence. she complained that she had no justice; there was no law for her, she had found no protection either from judges, the prosecutor, or her husband. she had not been treated like a christian, but like a wild beast of the forest. she declared that the money found in her possession had been sent her from abroad; that o'connor had been more to her than her husband, that she ought to have married him. it was against common sense to charge her with murdering the only friend she had in the world; the culprit was really her husband, who killed o'connor out of jealousy and revengeful feelings. when the judge assumed the black cap mrs. manning became still more violent, shouting, "no, no, i will not stand it! you ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" and would have left the dock had not mr. cope, the governor of newgate, restrained her. after judgment was passed she repeatedly cried out shame! and stretching out her hand, she gathered up a quantity of the rue which, following ancient custom dating from the days of the gaol fever, was strewn in front of the dock, and sprinkled it towards the bench with a contemptuous gesture. on being removed to newgate from the court mrs. manning became perfectly furious. she uttered loud imprecations, cursing judge, jury, barristers, witnesses, and all who stood around. her favourite and most often-repeated expression was, "d--n seize you all." they had to handcuff her by force against the most violent resistance, and still she raged and stormed, shaking her clenched and manacled hands in the officers' faces. from newgate the mannings were taken in separate cabs to horsemonger lane gaol. on this journey her manner changed completely. she became flippant, joked with the officers, asked how they liked her "resolution" in the dock, and expressed the utmost contempt for her husband, whom she never intended to acknowledge or speak to again. later her mood changed to abject despair. on reaching the condemned cell she threw herself upon the floor and shrieked in an hysterical agony of tears. after this, until the day of execution, she recovered her spirits, and displayed reckless effrontery, mocking at the chaplain, and turning a deaf ear to the counsels of a benevolent lady who came to visit. now she abused the jury, now called manning a vagabond, and through all ate heartily at every meal, slept soundly at nights, and talked with cheerfulness on almost any subject. nevertheless, she attempted to commit suicide by driving her nails, purposely left long, into her throat. she was discovered just as she was getting black in the face. manning's demeanour was more in harmony with his situation, and the full confession he made elucidated all dark and uncertain points in connection with the crime. the actual execution, which took place at another prison than newgate, is rather beyond the scope of this work. but it may be mentioned that the concourse was so enormous that it drew down the well-merited and trenchant disapproval of charles dickens, who wrote to the 'times,' saying that he believed "a sight so inconceivably awful as the wickedness and levity of the immense crowd collected at the execution this morning could be imagined by no man, and presented by no heathen land under the sun. the horrors of the gibbet, and of the crime which brought the wretched murderers to it, faded in my mind before the atrocious bearing, looks, and language of the assembled spectators. when i came upon the scene at midnight, the shrillness of the cries and howls that were raised from time to time, denoting that they came from a concourse of boys and girls already assembled in the best places, made my blood run cold." it will be in the memory of many that mrs. manning appeared on the scaffold in a black satin dress, which was bound tightly round her waist. this preference brought the costly stuff into disrepute, and its unpopularity lasted for nearly thirty years. i will briefly describe one or two of the more remarkable murders in the years immediately following, then pass on to another branch of crime. robert marley at the time of his arrest called himself a surgical instrument maker. it was understood also that he had served in the army as a private, and had, moreover, undergone a sentence of transportation. but it was supposed that he had been once in a good position, well born, and well educated. when lying under sentence of death in newgate, he was visited by a lady, a gentlewoman in every sense of the word, who was said to be his sister. his determined addiction to evil courses had led to his being cast off by his family, and he must have been at the end of his resources when he committed the crime for which he suffered. his offence was the murder of richard cope, a working jeweller, shopman to a mr. berry of parliament street. it was cope's duty to stay in the shop till the last, close the shutters, secure the stock of watches and jewellery, then lock up the place and take on the keys to mr. berry's private house in pimlico. cope, a small man, crippled, and of weakly constitution, was alone in the shop about . ; the shutters were up, and he was preparing to close, when marley entered and fell upon him with a life-preserver, meaning to kill him and rifle the shop. the noise of the struggle was heard outside in the street, and bystanders peeped in through the shutters, but no one entered or sought to interfere in what seemed only a domestic quarrel. a milliner's porter, lerigo, was also attracted by the noise of the row, but after walking a few paces he felt dissatisfied, and returned to the spot. pushing the shop-door open, he saw marley finishing his murderous assault. lerigo turned for assistance to take the man into custody. marley, disturbed, picked up a cigar and parcel from the counter, then ran out, pursued by lerigo only. marley ran along the street, down into cannon row, then into palace yard, where the waterman of the cab-tank, in obedience to lerigo's shouts, collared the fugitive. escorted by his two captors, marley was taken back into parliament street to the jeweller's shop. the policemen were now in possession; two of them supported cope, who was still alive, although insensible, and marley was apprehended. the evidence against him was completed by his identification by cope in westminster hospital, who survived long enough to make a formal deposition before mr. jardine, the police magistrate, that marley was the man who had beaten him to death. marley at his trial was undefended, and the sheriffs offered him counsel; but he declined. the witnesses against him all spoke the truth, he said; there was no case to make out; why waste money on lawyers for the defence? his demeanour was cool and collected throughout; he seemed while in newgate to realize thoroughly that there was no hope for him, and was determined to face his fate bravely. after sentence, the newgate officers who had special charge of him noticed that he slept well and ate well, enjoying all his meals. one of them went into his cell just at dinner-time; the great clock of st. sepulchre's close by was striking the hour, and marley, who had his elbows on the table, with his head resting on his hands, looked up and observed calmly, "go along, clock; come along, gallows." on the dread morning he came out to execution quite gaily, and tripped up the stairs to the scaffold. his captors, it may be added (lerigo and allen), were warmly commended by the judge for their courage and activity. the former was given a reward of twenty and the latter of ten pounds. a murderous assault on a police constable, which so nearly ended fatally that the culprit was sentenced to death, although not executed, was perpetrated in . the case was accompanied with the most shocking brutality. cannon, by trade a chimney-sweep, had long been characterized by the bitterest hatred of the police force, and had been repeatedly sentenced to imprisonment for most desperate and ferocious attacks upon various constables. his last victim was dwyer, a fine young officer who had been summoned to take cannon into custody when the latter was drunk and riotous in front of a public-house. dwyer found cannon bleeding profusely from a wound in the head, and persuaded him to go to a doctor's. they walked together quietly for some little distance, then cannon, without the slightest warning, threw the constable on his back, and violently assaulted him by jumping on his chest and stomach, and by getting his hand inside dwyer's stock, with the idea of strangling him. dwyer managed to overpower his assailant, and got to his feet; but cannon butted at him with his head, and again threw him to the ground, after which he kicked his prostrate foe in the most brutal and cowardly manner, and until he was almost senseless, and bruised from head to foot. once more dwyer got to his feet, and managed, by drawing his staff, to keep cannon at bay until a second constable came to his aid. all this time not one of a numerous body of bystanders offered to assist the policeman in his extremity. on the contrary, many of them encouraged the brutal assailant in his savage attack. to cannon's infinite surprise, he was indicted for attempt to murder, and not for a simple assault, and found guilty. the judge, in passing sentence of death, told him he richly deserved the punishment. as dwyer survived, cannon escaped the death sentence, which was commuted to penal servitude for life. a handsome sum was subscribed for the injured constable, who was disabled for life. only a few have vied with cannon in fiendish cruelty and brutality. one of these was mobbs, who lived in the minories, generally known by the soubriquet of "general haynau," a name execrated in england about this time. mobbs systematically ill-used his wife for a long space of time, and at last cut her throat. for this he was executed in front of newgate in . emmanuel barthelemy again, the french refugee, was a murderer of the same description, who despatched his victim with a loaded cane, after which, to secure his escape, he shot an old soldier who had attempted to detain him. he was convicted and executed. he died impenitent, declaring that he had no belief, and that it was idle to ask forgiveness of god. "i want forgiveness of man; i want those doors (of the prison) opened." barthelemy was generally supposed to have been a secret agent of the french police. i will now pass to grave but less atrocious crimes. in occurred the first of a series of gigantic frauds, which followed each other at no long intervals, which had a strong family likeness, and originated all of them to make money easily, without capital, and at railroad speed. walter watts was an inventor, a creator, who struck an entirely new and original line of crime. employed as a clerk in the globe assurance, he with unusual quickness of apprehension discovered and promptly turned to account an inexcusably lax system of management, which offered peculiar chances of profit to an ingenious and unscrupulous man. it was the custom in this office to make the banker's pass-book the basis of the entries in the company's ledgers. thus, when a payment was made by the company, the amount disbursed was carried to account in the general books from its entry in the pass-book, and without reference to or comparison with the documents in which the payment was claimed. this pass-book, when not at the bank, was in the exclusive custody of watts. the cheques drawn by the directors also passed through his hands; to him too they came back to be verified and put by, after they had been cashed by the bank. in this way watts had complete control over the whole of the monetary transactions of the company. he could do what he liked with the pass-book, and by its adoption, as described as the basis of all entries, there was no independent check upon him if he chose to tamper with it. this he did to an enormous extent, continually altering, erasing, and adding figures to correspond with and cover the abstractions he made of various cheques as they were drawn. it seems incredible that this pass-book, which when produced in court was a mass of blots and erasures, should not have created suspicion of foul play either at the bank or at the company's board. implicit confidence appears to have been placed in watts, who was the son of an old and trusted _employé_, and, moreover, a young man of plausible address. watts led two lives. in the west end he was a man of fashion, with a town house, a house at brighton, and a cellar full of good wine at both. he rode a priceless hack in rotten row, or drove down to richmond in a mail phaeton and pair. he played high, and spent his nights at the club, or in joyous and dissolute company. when other pleasures palled he took a theatre, and posed as a munificent patron of the dramatic art. under his auspices several "stars" appeared on the boards of the marylebone theatre, and later he became manager of the newly rebuilt olympic at wych street. no one cared too closely to inquire into the sources of wealth. some said he was a fortunate speculator in stocks, others that he had had extraordinary luck as a gold-digger. had his west end and little-informed associates followed him into the city, whither he was taken every morning in a smart brougham, they would have seen him alight from it in cornhill, and walk forward on foot to enter as a humble and unpretending _employé_ the doors of the globe assurance office. his situation exactly described was that of check clerk in the cashier's department, and his salary was £ a year. nevertheless, in this position, through the culpable carelessness which left him unfettered, he managed between and to embezzle and apply to his own purposes some £ , . the detection of these frauds came while he was still prominently before the world as the lessee of the olympic. rumours were abroad that serious defalcations had been discovered in one of the insurance offices, but it was long before the public realized that the fraudulent clerk and the great theatrical manager were one and the same person. watts's crime was discovered by the secretary of the globe company, who came suddenly upon the extensive falsification of the pass-book. an inquiry was at once set on foot, and the frauds were traced to watts. the latter, when first taxed with his offence, protested his innocence boldly, and positively denied all knowledge of the affair; and he had so cleverly destroyed all traces that it was not easy to bring home the charge. but it was proved that watts had appropriated one cheque for £ , which he had paid into his own bankers, and on this he was committed to newgate for trial. there were two counts in the indictment: one for stealing a cheque value £ , the second for stealing a bit of paper value one penny. the jury found him guilty of the latter only, with a point of law reserved. this was fully argued before three judges, who decided that the act of stealing the bit of paper involved a much more serious offence, and told him they should punish him for what he had really done, and not for the slight offence as it appeared on the record. the sentence of the court, one of ten years' transportation, struck the prisoner with dismay. he had been led to suppose that twelve months' imprisonment was the utmost the law could inflict, and he broke down utterly under the unexpected blow. that same evening he committed suicide in newgate. the details of the suicide were given at the inquest. watts had been in ill-health from the time of his first arrest. in giltspur street compter, where he was first lodged, he showed symptoms of delirium tremens, and admitted that he had been addicted to the excessive use of stimulants. his health improved, but was still indifferent when he was brought up for sentence, and he was an occupant of the newgate infirmary. he returned from court in a state of gloomy dejection, and in the middle of the night one of the fellow-prisoners who slept in the same ward noticed that he was not in his bed. this man got up to look for him, and found him hanging from the bars of a neighbouring room. he had made use of a piece of rope cut out from the sacking of his bedstead, and had tied his feet together with a silk pocket-handkerchief. the prison officers were called, but watts was quite cold and stiff when he was cut down. strange to say, a second suicide occurred in newgate the same night, that of a prize-fighter named donovan, tried the same day, and convicted of manslaughter. sentence of death had been recorded against donovan, who, like watts, had seemingly been overcome with sudden despair. in a second case of gigantic fraud alarmed and scandalized the financial world. it outshone the defalcations of watts. nothing to equal the excitement caused by the forgeries of robert ferdinand pries had been known before in the city of london. he was a corn merchant who operated largely in grain. so enormous were his transactions, that they often affected the markets, and caused great fluctuations in prices. these had been attributed to political action; some thought that the large purchases in foreign grains, effected at losing prices, were intended by the protectionists to depress the wheat market, and secure the support of the farmers at the forthcoming election; others, that napoleon iii., but recently proclaimed emperor of the french, wished to gain the popularity necessary to secure the people. few realized that these mysterious operations were the "convulsive attempt" of a ruined and dishonest speculator to sustain his credit. pries, although enjoying a high reputation in the city, had long been in a bad way. his extensive business had been carried on by fraud. his method was to obtain advances twice over on the same bills of lading or corn warrants. the duplicates were forged. in this way he obtained vast sums from several firms, and one to which he was indebted upwards of £ , subsequently stopped payment. pries at length was discovered through a dishonoured cheque for £ , paid over as an instalment of £ , owing for an advance on warrants. inquiries were instituted when the cheque was protested, which led to the discovery of the forgeries. pries was lodged in newgate, tried at the old bailey, and transported for life. another set of frauds, which resembled those of pries in principle, although not in practice, were soon afterwards discovered. these were the forgeries of joseph windle cole. this clever but unscrupulous trader proposed to gain the capital he needed for business purposes by raising money on dock warrants for imported goods which had no real existence. when such goods arrived they were frequently left at a wharf, paying rent until it suited the importer to remove them. the dock warrant was issued by the wharfinger as certificate that he held the goods. the warrant thus represented money, and was often used as such, being endorsed and passed from hand to hand as other negotiable bills. cole's plan was to have a wharf of his own, nominally occupied by a creature trading as maltby and co. goods would be landed at this wharf; maltby and co. would issue warrants on them deliverable to the importer, and the goods were then passed to be stored in neighbouring warehouses. the owners of the latter would then issue a second set of warrants on these goods, in total ignorance of the fact that they were already pledged. cole quickly raised money on both sets of warrants. he carried on this game for some time with great success, and so developed his business that in one year his transactions amounted to a couple of millions of pounds. he had several narrow escapes. once a warrant-holder sent down a clerk to view certain goods, and the clerk found that these goods had already a "stop" upon them, or were pledged. cole escaped by throwing the blame on a careless partner, and at once removed the "stop." again, some of the duplicate and fictitious warrants were held by a firm which suspended payment, and there was no knowing into whose hands they might fall. cole found out where they were, and redeemed them at a heavy outlay, thus obtaining business relations with the firm that held them, which were soon developed, much to that firm's subsequent anger and regret. last of all, the well-known bankers overend and gurney, whose own affairs created much excitement some years later, wishing to verify the value of warrants they held, and sending to maltby and co.'s wharf, found out half the truth. these bankers, wishing for more specific information, asked davidson and gordon, a firm with which cole was closely allied, whether the warrants meant goods or nothing. they could not deny that the latter was the truth, and were forthwith stigmatized by mr. chapman, overend and gurney's representative, as rogues. but overend and gurney took no steps to make the swindle public, and therefore, according to people of more rigid principle, became in a measure a party to the fraud. the course of the swindlers was by no means smooth, but it was not till that suspicion arose that anything was wrong. a firm which held a lot of warrants suddenly demanded the delivery of the goods they covered. the goods having no existence, cole of course could not deliver them. about this time davidson and gordon, the people above-mentioned, who had fraudulent warrants out of their own to the extent of £ , , suspended payment and absconded. this affected cole's credit, and ugly reports were in circulation charging him with the issue of simulated warrants. these indeed were out to the value of £ , . cole's difficulties increased more and more; warrant-holders came down upon him demanding to realize their goods. cole now suspended payment. maltby, who had bolted, was pursued and arrested, to end his life miserably by committing suicide in a newgate cell. cole too was apprehended, and in due course tried at the central criminal court. he was found guilty, and sentenced to the seemingly inadequate punishment of four years' transportation. davidson and gordon were also sentenced to imprisonment. a more distressing case stands next on the criminal records--the failure and subsequent sentence of the bankers messrs. strahan, paul, and bates, for the fraudulent disposal of securities lodged in their hands. this firm was one of the oldest banking establishments in the kingdom, and dated back to the commonwealth, when, under the title of snow and walton, it carried on business as pawnbrokers. the strahan of the firm which came to grief was a snow who changed his name for a fortune of £ , ; he was a man esteemed and respected in society and the world of finance, incapable as it was thought of a dishonest deed. sir john dean paul had inherited a baronetcy from his father, together with an honoured name; he was himself a prominent member of the low church, of austere piety, active in all good works. mr. bates had been confidential managing clerk, and was taken into the firm not alone as a reward for long and faithful service, but that he might strengthen it by his long experience and known business capacity. the bank enjoyed an excellent reputation, it had a good connection, and was supposed to be perfectly sound. moreover, the partners were sober, steady men, who paid unremitting attention to business. yet even so early as the death of the first sir john paul, the bank was insolvent, and instead of starting on a fresh life with a new name, it should then and there have closed its doors. in december the balance sheet showed a deficiency of upwards of £ , . the bank had been conducted on false principles; it had assumed enormous responsibilities--on one side by the ownership of the mostyn collieries, a valueless property, and on the other by backing up an impecunious and rotten firm of contractors with vast liabilities and pledged to impossible works abroad. the engagements of the bank on these two heads amounting to nearly half a million of money, produced immediate embarrassment and financial distress. the bank was already insolvent, and the partners had to decide between suspending payment or continuing to hold its head above water by flagitious processes. they chose, unhappily for themselves, the latter alternative. money they must have, and money they raised to meet their urgent necessities upon the balances and securities deposited with them by their customers. this borrowing continued, and on such a scale that their paper was soon at a discount, and the various discount houses would not advance sufficient sums to relieve the necessities of the bank. then it was that instead of merely pledging securities, the bank sold them outright, and thus passed the rubicon of fraud. this went on for some time, and might never have been discovered had some good stroke of luck provided any of the partners with money enough to retrieve the position of the bank. but that passed from bad to worse; the firm's paper went down further and further in value; an application to the committee of bankers for assistance was peremptorily refused, then came a run on the bank, and it was compelled to stop payment. its debts amounted to three-quarters of a million, and the dividend it eventually paid was three and twopence in the pound. but worse than the bankruptcy was the confession made by the partners in the court. they admitted that they had made away with many of the securities intrusted to their keeping. following this, warrants were issued for their arrest, the specific charge being the unlawful negotiation of danish bonds and other shares belonging to the rev. dr. griffiths of rochester, to the value of £ , . bates was at once captured in norfolk street, strand. police officers went down at night to nutfield, near reigate, and arrested sir john paul, but allowed the prisoner to sleep there. next morning they only just saved the train to town, and left sir john behind on the platform, but he subsequently surrendered himself. mr. strahan was arrested at a friend's house in bryanston square. all three were tried at the central criminal court, and sentenced to fourteen years' transportation, passing some time in newgate _en route_. bates, the least guilty, was pardoned in . two cases of extensive embezzlement which were discovered almost simultaneously, those of robson and redpath, will long be remembered both within and without the commercial world. they both reproduced many of the features of the case of watts, already described, but in neither did the sums misappropriated reach quite the same high figure. but neither robson nor redpath would have been able to pursue their fraudulent designs with success had they not, like watts, been afforded peculiar facilities by the slackness of system and the want of methodical administration in the concerns by which they were employed. robson was of humble origin, but he was well educated, and he had some literary abilities. his proclivities were theatrical, and he was the author of several plays, one at least of which, 'love and loyalty,' with wallack in a leading part, achieved a certain success. he began life as a law-writer, earning thereby some fifteen or eighteen shillings a week; but the firm he served got him a situation as clerk in the office of the great northern railway, whence he passed to a better position under the crystal palace company. he now married, although his salary was only a pound a week; but he soon got on. he had a pleasant address, showed good business aptitudes, and quickly acquired the approval of his superiors. within a year he was advanced to the post of chief clerk in the transfer department, at a salary of £ a year. his immediate chief was a mr. fasson, upon whose confidence he gained so rapidly, through his activity, industry, and engaging manners, that ere long the whole management of the transfer department was intrusted to him. some time elapsed before robson succumbed to temptation. he was not the first man of loose morality and expensive tastes who preferred to risk his future reputation and liberty to the present discomfort of living upon narrow means. the temptation was all the greater because the chances of successful fraud lay ready to hand. shares in the company were represented by certificates, which often enough never left the company's, or more exactly robson's, hands. he conceived the idea of transferring shares, bogus shares from a person who held none, to any one who would buy them in the open market. he took it for granted that the certificates representing these bogus shares, and which practically did not exist, would never be called for. this ingenious method of raising funds he adopted and carried on without detection, till the defalcations from fraudulent transfers and fraudulent issues combined amounted to £ , . with the proceeds of these flagitious frauds robson feasted and made merry. he kept open house at kilburn priory; entertained literary, artistic, and dramatic celebrities; had a smart "turn out," attended all the race-meetings, and dressed in the latest fashion. to his wife, poor soul, he made no pretence of fidelity, and she enjoyed only so much of his company as was necessarily spent in receiving guests at home, or could be spared from two rival establishments in other parts of the town. to account for his revenues he pretended to have been very lucky on the stock exchange, which was at one time true to a limited extent, and to have succeeded in other speculations. when his friends asked why he, a wealthy man of independent means, continued to slave on as a clerk on a pittance, he replied gaily that his regular work at the crystal palace office was useful as a sort of discipline, and kept him steady. all this time his position was one of extreme insecurity. he was standing over a mine which at any moment might explode. the blow fell suddenly, and when least expected. one morning mr. fasson asked casually for certain certificates, whether representing real or fictitious shares does not appear; but they were certificates connected in some way with robson's long-practised frauds, and he could not produce them. his chief asked sternly where they were. robson said they were at kilburn priory. "let us go to kilburn for them together," said mr. fasson, growing suspicious. they drove there, and robson on arrival did the honours of his house, rang for lunch to gain time, but at mr. fasson's pressing demands went upstairs to fetch the certificates. he came back to explain that he had mislaid them. mr. fasson, more and more ill at ease, would not accept this subterfuge, and declared they must be found. robson again left him, but only to gather together hastily all the money and valuables on which he could lay his hands, with which he left the house. mr. fasson waited and waited for his subordinate to re-appear, and at last discovered his flight. a reward was forthwith offered for robson's apprehension. meanwhile the absconding clerk had coolly driven to a favourite dining-place in the west end, where a fish curry and a brace of partridges were set before him, and he discussed the latter with appetite, but begged that they would never give him curry again, as he did not like it. after dinner he went into hiding for a day or two, then, accompanied by a lady, not mrs. robson, he took steamer and started for copenhagen. but the continental police had been warned to look out for him, and two danish inspectors got upon his track, followed him over to sweden, and arrested him at helsingfors. thence he was transferred to copenhagen and surrendered in due course to a london police officer. little more remains to be said about robson. he appears to have accepted his position, and to have at once resigned himself to his fate. when brought to trial he took matters very coolly, and at first pleaded "not guilty," but subsequently withdrew the plea. sergeant ballantine, who prosecuted, paid him the compliment of describing him as "a young man of great intelligence, considerable powers of mind, and possessed of an education very much beyond the rank of life to which he originally belonged." robson was found guilty, and sentenced to two terms of transportation, one for twenty and one for fourteen years. newgate officers who remember robson still describe him as a fine young man, who behaved well as a prisoner, but who had all the appearance of a careless, thoughtless, happy-go-lucky fellow. in many respects the embezzlement of which leopold redpath was guilty closely resembled that of robson, but it was based upon more extended and audacious forgeries. redpath's crime arose from his peculiar and independent position as registrar of stock of the great northern railway company. this offered him great facilities for the creation of artificial stock, its sale from a fictitious holder, and transfer to himself. all the signatures in the transfer were forged. not only did he thus transfer and realize "bogus" stock, but he bought _bonâ fide_ amounts, and increased their value by altering the figures, by inserting say before , and thus making it £ , which larger amount was duly carried to his credit on the register, and entered upon the certificates of transfer. by these means redpath misappropriated vast sums during a period extending over ten years. the total amount was never exactly made out, but the false stock created and issued by him was estimated at £ , . even when the bubble burst redpath, who had lived at the rate of twenty thousand a year, had assets in the shape of land, house, furniture, pictures, and _objets d'art_ to the value of £ , . he began in a very small way. first a lawyer's clerk, he then got an appointment in the peninsular and oriental company's office; afterwards he set up as an insurance broker on his own account, but presently failed. his fault was generosity, an open-handed, unthinking charity which gave freely to the poor and needy the money which belonged to his creditors. after his bankruptcy he obtained a place as clerk in the great northern railway office, from which he rose to be assistant registrar, with the special duties of transferring shares. he soon proved his ability, and by unremitting attention mastered the whole work of the office. later on he became registrar, and in this more independent position developed to a colossal extent the frauds he had already practised as a subordinate. now he launched out into great expenditure, took a house in chester terrace, and became known as a mæcenas and patron of the arts. he had a nice taste in _bric-à-brac_, and was considered a good judge of pictures. leading social and artistic personages were to be met with at his house, and his hospitality was far famed. the choicest wines, the finest fruits, peas at ten shillings a quart, five-guinea pines, and early asparagus were to be found on his table. but his chief extravagance, his favourite folly, was the exercise of an ostentatious benevolence. the philanthropy he had displayed in a small way when less prosperous became now a passion. his name headed every subscription list; his purse was always open. not content with giving where assistance was solicited, he himself sought out deserving cases and personally afforded relief. when the crash came there were pensioners and other recipients of his bounty who could not believe that so good a man had really been for years a swindler and a rogue. down at weybridge, where he had a country place, his name was long remembered with gratitude by the poor. during the days of his prosperity he was a governor of christ's hospital, of the st. ann's society, and one of the supporters and managers of the patriotic fund. in his person he was neat and fastidious; he patronized the best tailors, and had a fashionable _coiffeur_ from hanover square daily to curl his hair. there was something dramatic in redpath's detection. just after robson's frauds had agitated the minds of all directors of companies, the chairman of the great northern (mr. denison) was standing at a railway station talking to a certain well-known peer of the realm. redpath passed and lifted his hat to his chairman; the latter acknowledged the salute. but the peer rushed forward and shook redpath warmly by the hand. "what do you know of our clerk?" asked mr. denison of his lordship. "only that he is a capital fellow, who gives the best dinners and balls in town." redpath had industriously circulated reports that he had prospered greatly in speculation; but the chairman of the great northern could not realize that a clerk of the company could honestly be in the possession of unlimited wealth. it was at once decided at the board to make a thorough examination of all his books. redpath was called in and informed of the intended investigation. he tried to stave off the evil hour by declaring that everything was perfectly right; but finding he could not escape, he said he would resign his post, and leaving the board-room, disappeared. the inquiry soon revealed the colossal character of the frauds. warrants were issued for redpath's arrest, but he had flown to paris. thither police officers followed, only to find that he had returned to london. a further search discovered him at breakfast at a small house in the new road. he was arrested, examined before a police magistrate, and committed to newgate. great excitement prevailed in the city and the west end when redpath's defalcations were made public. the stock market was greatly affected, and society, more especially that which frequents exeter hall, was convulsed. the central criminal court, when the trial came on, was densely crowded, and many curious eyes were turned upon the somewhat remarkable man who occupied the dock. he is described by a contemporary account as a fresh-looking man of forty years of age, slightly bald, inclined to embonpoint, and thoroughly embodying the idea of english respectability. his manner was generally self-possessed, but his face was marked with "uneasy earnestness," and he looked about him with wayward, furtive glances. when the jury found a verdict of guilty he remained unmoved. he listened without emotion to the judge's well-merited censures, and received his sentence of transportation for life without much surprise. redpath passed away into the outer darkness of a penal colony, where he was still living a year or two back. but his name lingers still in this country as that of the first swindler of his time, and the prototype of a class not uncommon in our later days--that of dishonest rogues who assume piety and philanthropy as a cloak for their misdeeds. in newgate redpath is remembered by the prison officer as a difficult man to deal with. from the moment of his reception he gave himself great airs, as a martyr and a man heavily wronged. by-and-by, when escape seemed hopeless, and after sentence, he suddenly degenerated into the lowest stamp of criminal, and behaved so as to justify a belief that he had been a gaol-bird all his life. it has been already remarked in these pages that with changed social conditions came a great change in the character of crimes. highway robberies, for instance, had disappeared, if we except the spasmodic and severely repressed outbreak of "garotting," which at one time spread terror throughout london. thieves preferred now to use ingenuity rather than brute force. it was no longer possible to stop a coach or carriage, or rob the postman who carried the mail. the improved methods of locomotion had put a stop to these depredations. people travelled in company, as a rule; only when single and unprotected were they in any danger of attack, and that but rarely. there were still big prizes, however, to tempt the daring, and none appealed more to the thievish instinct than the custom of transmitting gold by rail. the precious metal was sent from place to place carefully locked up and guarded, no doubt; but were the precautions too minute, the vigilance too close to be eluded or overcome? this was the question which presented itself to the fertile brain of one pierce, who had been concerned in various "jobs" of a dishonest character, and who for the moment was a clerk in a betting office. he laid the suggestion before agar, a professional thief, who was of opinion it contained elements of success. but the collusion and active assistance of _employés_ of the railway carriers were indispensable, and together they sounded one burgess, a guard on the south-eastern railway, a line by which large quantities of bullion were sent to the continent. burgess detailed the whole system of transmission. the gold, packed in an iron-bound box, was securely lodged in safes locked with patent chubbs. each safe had three sets of double keys, all held by confidential servants of the company. one pair was with the traffic superintendent in london, another with an official in folkestone, a third with the captain of the folkestone and boulogne boat. at the other side of the channel the french railway authorities took charge. the safes while on the line _en route_ between london and folkestone were in the guard's van. this was an important step, and they might easily be robbed some day when burgess was the guard, provided only that they could be opened. the next step was to get impressions and fabricate false keys. a new accomplice was now needed within the company's establishment, and pierce looked about long before he found the right person. at last he decided to enlist one tester, a clerk in the traffic department, whom he thought would prove a likely tool. the four waited patiently for their opportunity, which came when the safes were sent to chubbs' to be repaired; and chubbs sent them back, but only with one key, in such a way that tester had possession of this key for a time. he lent it to agar for a brief space, who promptly took an impression on wax. but the safes had a double lock; the difficulty was to get a copy of the second key. this was at length effected by agar and pierce. after hanging about the folkestone office for some time, they saw at last that the key was kept in a certain cupboard. still watching and waiting for the first chance, they seized it when the clerks left the office empty for a moment. pierce boldly stepped in, found the cupboard unlocked; he removed the key, handed it to agar outside, who quickly took the wax impression, handed it back to pierce; pierce replaced it, left the office, and the thing was done. after this nothing remained but to wait for some occasion when the amount transmitted would be sufficient to justify the risks of robbery. it was tester's business, who had access to the railway company's books, to watch for this. meanwhile the others completed their preparations with the utmost care. a weight of shot was bought and stowed in carpet bags ready to replace exactly the abstracted gold. courier bags were bought to carry the "stuff" slung over the shoulders; and last, but not least, agar frequently travelled up and down the line to test the false keys he had manufactured with pierce's assistance. burgess admitted him into the guard's van, where he fitted and filed the keys till they worked easily and satisfactorily in the locks of the safe. one night tester whispered to agar and pierce, "all right," as they cautiously lounged about london bridge. the thieves took first-class tickets, handed their bags full of shot to the porters, who placed them in the guard's van. just as the train was starting agar slipped into the van with burgess, and pierce got into a first-class carriage. agar at once got to work on the first safe, opened it, took out and broke into the bullion box, removed the gold, substituted the shot from a carpet bag, re-fastened and re-sealed the bullion box, and replaced it in the safe. at redhill tester met the train and relieved the thieves of a portion of the stolen gold. at the same station pierce joined agar in the guard's van, and there were now three to carry on the robbery. the two remaining safes were attacked and nearly entirely despoiled in the same way as the first, and the contents transferred to the courier bags. the train was now approaching folkestone, and agar and pierce hid themselves in a dark part of the van. at that station the safes were given out, heavy with shot, not gold; the thieves went on to dover, and by-and-by, with ostend tickets previously procured, returned to london without mishap, and by degrees disposed of much of the stolen gold. the theft was discovered at boulogne, when the boxes were found not to weigh exactly what they ought. but no clue was obtained to the thieves, and the theft might have remained a mystery but for the subsequent bad faith of pierce to his accomplice agar. the latter was ere long arrested on a charge of uttering forged cheques, convicted, and sentenced to transportation for life. when he knew that he could not escape his fate, he handed over to pierce a sum of £ , his own, whether rightly or wrongly acquired never came out, together with the unrealized part of the bullion, amounting in all to some £ , , and begged his accomplice to invest it as a settlement on a woman named kay, by whom he had had a child. pierce made kay only a few small payments, then appropriated the rest of the money. kay, who had been living with agar at the time of the bullion robbery, went to the police in great fury and distress, and disclosed all she knew of the affair. agar too, in newgate, heard how pierce had treated him, and at once readily turned approver. as the evidence he gave incriminated pierce, burgess, and tester, all three were arrested and committed to newgate for trial. the whole strange story, the long incubation and the elaborate accomplishment of the plot, came out at the old bailey, and was acknowledged to be one of the most extraordinary on record. scarcely had the conviction of these daring and astute thieves been assured, than another gigantic fraud was brought to light. the series of boldly-conceived and cleverly-executed forgeries in which james townshend saward, commonly called "jem the penman," was the prime mover, has probably no parallel in the annals of crime. saward himself is a striking and in some respects an unique figure in criminal history. a man of birth and education, a member of the bar, and of acknowledged legal attainments, his proclivities were all downward. instead of following an honourable profession, he preferred to turn his great natural talents and ready wits to the most nefarious practices. he was known to the whole criminal fraternity as a high-class receiver of stolen goods, a negotiator more especially of stolen paper, cheques and bills, of which he made a particular use. he dealt too in the precious metals, when they had been improperly acquired, and it was to him that agar, pierce, and the rest applied when seeking to dispose of their stolen bullion. but saward's operations were mainly directed to the fabrication and uttering of forged cheques. his method was comprehensive and deeply laid. burglars brought him the cheques they stole from houses, thieves what they got in pocket-books. cheques blank and cancelled were his stock-in-trade. the former he filled up by exact imitation of the latter, signature and all. when he could get nothing but the blank cheque, he set in motion all sorts of schemes for obtaining signatures, such as commencing sham actions, and addressing formal applications, merely for the reply. one stroke of luck which he turned to great account was the return from transportation of an old "pal" and confederate, who brought with him some bills of exchange. saward's method of negotiating the cheques was equally well planned. like his great predecessor old patch,[ ] he never went to a bank himself, nor did any of his accomplices. the bearer of the cheque was always innocent and ignorant of the fraudulent nature of the document he presented. in order to obtain messengers of this sort, saward answered advertisements of persons seeking employment, and when these presented themselves, intrusted them as a beginning with the duty of cashing cheques. a confederate followed the emissary closely, not only to insure fair play and the surrender of the proceeds if the cheque was cashed, but to give timely notice if it was not, so that saward and the rest might make themselves scarce. as each transaction was carried out from a different address, and a different messenger always employed, the forgers always escaped detection. but fate overtook two of the gang, partly through their own carelessness, when transferring their operations to yarmouth. one named hardwicke assumed the name of ralph, and, to obtain commercial credit in yarmouth, paid in £ to a yarmouth bank as coming from a mr. whitney. he forgot to add that it was to be placed to ralph's credit, and when he called as ralph, he was told it was only at mr. whitney's disposal, and that it could be paid to no one else. hardwicke, or "ralph," appealed to saward in his difficulty, and that clever schemer sent an elaborate letter of instructions how to ask for the money. but while hardwicke was in communication with saward, the bank was in communication with london, and the circumstances were deemed sufficiently suspicious to warrant the arrest of the gentlemen at yarmouth on a charge of forgery and conspiracy. saward's letter to hardwicke fell into the hands of the police and compromised him. while hardwicke and atwell were in newgate awaiting trial, active search was made for saward, who was at length taken in a coffee-shop near oxford street, under the name of hopkins. he resisted at first, and denied his identity, but on being searched, two blank cheques of the london and westminster bank were found in his pocket. he then confessed that he was the redoubtable jem saward, or jem the penman, and was conveyed to a police-court, and thence to newgate. at his trial atwell and hardwicke, two of his chief allies and accomplices, turned approvers, and the whole scheme of systematic forgery was laid bare. the evidence was corroborated by that of many of the victims who had acted as messengers, and others who swore to the meetings of the conspirators and their movements. saward was found guilty, and the judge, in passing sentence on him of transportation for life, expressed deep regret that "the ingenuity, skill, and talent, which had received so perverted and mistaken direction, had not been guided by a sense of virtue, and directed to more honourable and useful pursuits." the proceeds of these forgeries amounted, it was said, to some thousands per annum. saward spent all his share at low gaming houses, and in all manner of debaucheries. he was in person a short, square-built man of gentlemanly address, sharp and shrewd in conversation and manner. he was fifty-eight at the time of his conviction, and had therefore enjoyed a long innings. chapter ix. later records. latest cases of escape--charles thomas white--john williams--henry williams--other attempts frustrated--bell, brown, and barry escape together--krapps the sailor--the last case on record--suicides--latest executions--some account of calcraft and marwood--public executions continue, but much reprehended--the crowd at the 'flowery land' executions--prices paid for seats--the same at müller's--'times'' account of that execution--efforts to make executions private in gaols--royal commission--mr. hibbert's bill--- the fenian barrett's, last public execution at newgate--first private one, that of alexander mackay--private executions not popular with newgate officials--some account, by them, of the demeanour of murderers--wainwright--catherine wilson--kate webster. the old notion always prevailed that newgate was impregnable, so to speak, from within, and that none of its inmates could hope to escape from its secure precincts. yet the gaol, in spite of its fortress-like aspect, was by no means really safe. year after year prisoners determined to get free, and occasionally succeeded in their efforts. the inspectors' reports mention many cases of evasion accomplished. there were others less successful. charles thomas white, awaiting execution for arson, made a desperate effort to escape from newgate in . he had friends and auxiliaries inside the gaol and out. the cell he occupied was near the outer wall, and had he but been able to remove its iron bars, he might have descended into newgate street by means of a rope ladder. the ladder was actually made, of black sewing-thread firmly and closely interwoven. but white could not remove the bars; the instruments needed for the purpose never reached him. it was noticed that he was most anxious to receive a pair of shoes for which he had asked, and when they arrived they were closely examined. sewn in between the upper and lower leathers several spring saws were found, which would have easily cut through any bars. white, when taxed with his attempt, admitted that the accusation was true, and spoke "with pride and satisfaction of the practicability of his scheme." there is an attempt at escape mentioned in mr. wakefield's book, which might have been an intended suicide. john williams, a young fellow only twenty-three years of age, awaited execution in for stealing in a dwelling-house. on the very morning on which he was to suffer he eluded the vigilance, such as it was, of his officers, and climbed up the pipe of a cistern in the corner of the press yard; some thought with the idea of drowning himself. he never reached the cistern, but fell back into the yard, injuring his legs severely. although his execution was imminent, a surgeon attended to his wounds, and he was carried more dead than alive to the scaffold. a harrowing scene followed; the wounds broke open and bled profusely while the last dread penalty was being performed, to the manifest excitement and indignation of the crowd. a more daring and skilful escape was effected in by the chimney-sweep henry williams, who, while detained in the press-yard as a capital convict, under sentence of death for burglary, managed to get away in the very same spot where his namesake had nine years before so miserably failed. escape seemed absolutely hopeless, and would certainly have been impossible to any one less nimble than a chimney-sweep, trained under the old system to ascend the most intricate flues. even after williams had got out, persons were disposed to disbelieve that the escape had been accomplished in the manner indicated; they preferred to credit it to carelessness or collusion from officers of the gaol. yet from the circumstantial account given by williams after recapture, there can be little doubt that he got away as will be described. williams as a capital convict was lodged in the press-yard or condemned ward. he had access to the airing yard, and there was for hours no kind of supervision. in one corner of the airing yard stood a cistern at some height from the ground; the wall beneath and above it was "rusticated," in other words, the granite surface had become roughened, and offered a sort of foothold. about fifty feet from the ground level, and above the cistern, a revolving chevaux-de-frise of iron was fixed, with only a short interval between it and the wall, supported by a horizontal iron railing with upright points; in the wall above the chevaux-de-frise projected a series of iron spikes sharp enough to forbid further ascent. williams surveyed these formidable obstacles to evasion, and calmly proceeded to surmount them. his first task was to gain the top of the cistern; this he effected by keeping his back to one side of the angle, and working with his hands behind him, while he used his bare feet like claws upon the other side of the wall angle. the condition of the stone surface just mentioned assisted him in this, and he managed to get beyond the cistern to the railing below the chevaux-de-frise. the least slip now would have been fatal to him. but he could not thrust his body in through the narrow space left by the chevaux-de-frise, and was compelled to work along the railing round three-quarters of the square of the yard, and at length reached a point opposite the top of the building containing the condemned wards. this had been a perilous and painful task; the spikes of the railing penetrated his flesh and made progression slow and difficult. but the worst part of the business was to jump from this irksome foothold of the iron grating on to the top of the building just mentioned, a distance of eight or nine feet. he had here completed his ascent. his next job was to descend outside newgate. clambering along the roof, he passed to the top of the ordinary's residence, hoping to find an open sky-light by which he might enter and so work downstairs. if the worst came to the worst, he intended to have gone down some chimney, as he had often done before in the way of business. but he did not like the risk of entering a room by the fireplace, and the chances of detection it offered. he traversed vainly all the roofs in newgate street, running a great risk of discovery as he passed by a lot of workmen at tyler's manufactory in warwick square, which had formerly been the college of physicians. as his coat was an incumbrance, he left it on the top of the third house in newgate street, and thus in shirt-sleeves, barefoot and bareheaded, he worked along to the roofs in warwick lane. here he came upon a woman on the leads hanging out clothes to dry. williams concealed himself behind a chimney till she had re-entered her garret, and then following her down a step ladder into the house, told his story, appealed to and won her compassion. she suffered him to pass downstairs. below he met another woman and a girl, both of whom were terrified at his appearance, but when he explained that he was running away from the gallows they left him the road clear. to walk out into the street was an easy affair, and he was now free, with one and fourpence in his pocket and a shirt and trousers for all his clothing. denied admission everywhere as a ragged, half-naked beggar, he tramped across london bridge to wandsworth, where he refreshed himself with a pint of strong ale, the first sustenance he had taken since his escape, and continued his march to kingston, where he slept soundly under a hedge till next morning. entering a town, he obtained employment at once as a chimney-sweep from a widow woman, who gave him "bub and grub," or food and one-and-sixpence, for every nine days' work. dissatisfied with this remuneration, he again took to the road, and tramped into hampshire, where he presently committed a burglary at lymington, was caught, and lodged in winchester gaol. mr. cope, the governor of newgate, having been communicated with, proceeded to winchester, where he at once identified williams. the success, although very short-lived, which attended him, no doubt inspired other inmates of newgate to follow his example. it was for some time after this a constant practice to go up the chimneys in the hopes of escaping by the flue. even then, however, irons across barred the ascent after a certain distance, and in no one case did a fugitive get clear away. a man named lears, under sentence of transportation for an attempt at murder on board ship, got up part of the way, but had to come down again covered with soot and filth just as the officers entered the ward. lears was rewarded by being obliged to wear cross irons on his legs, a punishment rarely inflicted in newgate, and probably one of the few cases of a recurrence, but under proper safeguards and limitations, to the old system of chains. on another occasion mr. cope the governor came in and missed a man. the ward was one short of its number. what had become of the fellow? no one would answer. it was summer-time, and the grate was empty, but the governor promptly ordered a fire to be lighted. the effect was nearly instantaneous; the fugitive, uncomfortably ensconced in the flue, came down of his own accord, like colonel colt's racoon. after this great iron guards, just as are to be seen in lunatic asylums, were fixed over the fireplaces, and the prisoners had no longer access to the chimneys. among the escapes still remembered was one in , accomplished by a man who had been employed working at the roof of the chapel on the female side. he was engaged in whitewashing and cleaning; the officer who had him in charge left him on the stairs leading to the gallery. taking advantage of being unobserved, he got out through the roof on to the leads, and travelled along them towards no. , newgate street. this was a public-house. he stepped in at a garret window, coolly walked downstairs, and entered the bar. they asked him how he had cut his hand, which was bleeding, and he said he had done it while working up on the roof. no further notice was taken of him; no one seemingly suspected that he was a prisoner, and he was suffered to walk off without let or hindrance. in three men escaped in company from one of the wards in the middle yard. they were penal servitude men, their names bell, brown, and barry, and they were awaiting transfer to leicester, which with wakefield was utilized as a receptacle for convicts not going to western australia, or any of the new establishments at home, at portland, dartmoor, or elsewhere. these men managed to cut a hole in the ceiling of the ward near the iron cage[ ] on the landing, and so got access to the roof. at that time rope mats were still used as beds. one of the three, shamming ill, remained all day in his ward, where he employed himself unravelling the rope from the sleeping-mats. by evening he manufactured a good long length, and after all was quiet the three got on to the roof through the hole, and so on to tyler's manufactory close by, whence they let themselves down into the street by the rope. these men were all in prison dress at the time of their escape, but one of their number, bell, sent back his clothes a few days later by parcel's delivery, with a civil note to the governor, saying he had no further use for them. all three fugitives were recaptured, brown almost at once; then barry, who was taken at the east end in a public-house where he had arranged to meet a pal. the newgate officers obtained information of this, and went to the spot, where they effected the capture, but not till they had had an exciting chase down the street. the third, bell, remained longest at large. he too was run into at a lodging in the kingsland road. the officers dropped on to him while he was still in bed, but as they came upstairs he jumped up and hid in a cupboard. all three after recapture passed on, as originally intended, to leicester, where they did their "bit"[ ] and were released; but only to be taken soon afterwards for a fresh offence, and again pass through newgate with sentences of penal servitude. a later case was still more remarkable, as it was effected after the alteration of the prison and its reconstruction on the newest lines. a sailor, krapps by name, occupied one of the upper cells in the new block. the doors, through incomplete knowledge of prison needs, were not, as now, sheeted with iron. the prisoner had nothing to deal with but wooden panels, and by dint of cutting and chopping he got both the lower panels out. through the aperture he crept out on to the landing at the dead of night, and so down into the central space of the building. under superior orders all the doors and gates of this block were left open at night, to allow the night watchman to pass freely to all parts. this was considered safer than intrusting him with keys. krapps walked at once into the yard and across to the female side, where he found some of the washing still hanging out to dry. he made a strong rope with several of the sheets; then, returning to the male yard, got hold of the step ladder used in lighting the gas, and which under our more careful supervision would have been, as now-a-days, chained up. cutting the cord which fastened the two legs of the step ladder, he opened them out and made one long length; with this, placed against the wall near the chevaux-de-frise, he made an escalade. the top of the wall was gained without difficulty. along this krapps crawled, and then dropped down on to the cook-house. he now put in requisition the rope made of the sheets, and with its help lowered himself into the street. down below were market-carts waiting for daylight, and among them krapps found a refuge and friends. the first intimation of his escape was afforded by the police, who informed the prison authorities next day that a rope was hanging down from the cook-house roof. nothing more was heard of krapps. the curious thing in his case was that his offence was a trifling one; he was still untried, but would almost certainly have escaped with a minor penalty, say of three or four months' imprisonment. there is, however, no explanation of the motives which prompt prisoners to attempt escapes. cases well authenticated have been known of men who had all but completed their sentences, and for whom the prison gates would open within a few days, who yet faced extraordinary risks to advance their enlargement by only a few hours. on the other hand, at the great convict establishments, such is the moral restraint of a systematic discipline, that numbers of men, "lifers," and others with ten, fourteen, or twenty years to do, can be trusted to work out of doors without bolts and bars at a distance from the prison. the last escape from newgate was only three years ago, and occurred just before the final closing of the prison. no report of it was made public, as the man was almost immediately recaptured. he was at work under the supervision of the artisan warder of the prison, who permitted him to go up on to the roof of the old wards, in order to throw water for flushing purposes down a shoot. he was out of sight while so employed, and remained so long absent that the warder, becoming uneasy, went in search of him. he had disappeared. encouraged by the shouts and signals of some workmen employed on a building outside, the prisoner made one of the most marvellous jumps on record, from the building he was on to a distant wall, with a drop of sixty feet between. then he ran along the coping of the wall towards its angle with tyler's manufactory, and dropped down on to the gridiron below. this was not strong enough to carry him, and he fell through. suicides and executions were, however, always the most effectual methods of making exit from durance. suicides at newgate were numerous enough, but they seldom possessed any novel or unusual features; prison suicides seldom do, except as regards ingenuity and determination. only great resolution indeed, persisted in to the bitter end, would make death a certainty, so limited and imperfect are the means generally available. when a bit of rope carefully secreted, braces, shoe-strings, shirt torn into strips are the only instruments, and a bar or small hook at no elevation affords the only drop, strangulation would seldom supervene but for the resolution of the miserable _felo de se_. one curious instance of a suicide carried out under the most adverse and extraordinary circumstances may be quoted. it was that of a "long firm" swindler, by name johnson, who contrived to hang himself from a hammock hook only eighteen inches from the ground. the noose was one of his hammock straps, which he buckled round his throat. having carefully spread out a blanket on the floor just below the hammock as it lay suspended, he fastened one end of the strap above mentioned to the hook, and then fell down. he might have saved himself at any moment by merely extending an arm; but he lay there patiently till death supervened. when discovered next morning, quite dead, it was found that the strap actually did not touch his throat; three fingers might have been inserted between it and the flesh; the pressure was all on the arteries behind the ears, and surgical opinion stated that the stoppage of circulation was the cause of death. probably dissolution came as easily and almost without pain. a laudable desire to invest executions with more and more solemnity and decorum gained ground as they became more rare. as more humane principles were introduced into prison management, greater attention was paid to the capital convicts, and the horrors of their situation while awaiting sentence were as far as possible mitigated and toned down. but there was little improvement in the ceremony itself. there were still untoward accidents occasionally at executions, and even the chief practitioner of recent times, calcraft, was not always to be trusted to do his fell work efficiently. having mentioned calcraft's name, i may be permitted to digress for a moment to give a few particulars concerning the last officially appointed hangman of the city of london. after calcraft's resignation no successor was really appointed. marwood, whose name is so familiar with the present generation, had no official status, and was merely an operator selected by the corporation, and who, on the strength of it, contracted with sheriffs and conveners to work by the job. but calcraft regularly succeeded foxen, who followed botting, and dennis, the actor in the riots. calcraft was born at baddow, in essex, in ; he was a shoemaker by trade, and settled in london after his marriage in . the story goes, that about his attention was drawn early one morning to a man who leant against a lamp-post in finsbury square, coughing violently. calcraft, who, in spite of the dreadful calling he subsequently followed, was always reputed a kindly man, invited the man with the cough to enter a neighbouring house and try a little peppermint for it. the other accepted, and they got into conversation. he told calcraft that he was foxen the executioner, and that he was that moment on his way to newgate to hang a man, but that his cough was getting so much the master of him that he feared he would not be able to carry on his duties much longer. "i have no idea who the sheriffs will get to do the work after me," said foxen, adding that his assistant, tom cheshire, was given to drink, and not to be trusted. "i think i could do that sort of job," said calcraft, on the spur of the moment. foxen asked him his name and address, and went away. calcraft thought no more of what had occurred till the next sessions at the old bailey, when the sheriffs sent for him, and offered him the post of executioner for the city of london and middlesex. he accepted, having at first tom cheshire as his assistant, then for a time, when cheshire was dismissed for drunkenness, a man named osborne. after that he worked alone. i cannot find that calcraft was sworn in when appointed, or any exact information when the old forbidding ceremony ceased to be practised. it was customary to make the executioner take the bible in his hand, and swear solemnly that he would despatch every criminal condemned to die, without favouring father or mother or any other relation or friend. when he had taken the oath he was dismissed with the words, "get thee hence, wretch!" calcraft's emoluments were a guinea per week, and an extra guinea for every execution. he got besides half-a-crown for every man he flogged, and an allowance to provide cats or birch rods. for acting as executioner of horsemonger lane gaol he received a retaining fee of £ _s._, with the usual guinea for each job; he was also at liberty to engage himself in the country, where he demanded and was paid £ on each occasion. it was not always easy to get a hangman so cheap, as i have already indicated on a previous page. the onus and responsibility of carrying out the sentence is personal to the sheriff. a good story is told illustrating this. some wags in scotland seized calcraft and kept him in durance the night before the execution. meanwhile the convener or sheriff was in despair, expecting that, failing the executioner, he would have to do the job himself. but, fortunately for him, just at the last moment calcraft was set free. calcraft's salary was more than the proverbial "thirteenpence halfpenny--hangman's wages." the origin of this expression dates, it is said, from the time when the scottish mark, a silver coin bearing the same relation to the scottish pound that an english shilling does to an english pound, was made to pass current in england. the mark was valued at thirteenpence halfpenny, or rather more than the shilling, which from time immemorial had been the hangman's wages. that very ancient perquisite the convict's clothes was never claimed by calcraft, and it may be doubted whether he was entitled to it. on one particular occasion, however, he got them. a gentleman whose sins brought him to the gallows at maidstone wished to do calcraft a good turn, and sent to his london tailor for a complete new suit, in which he appeared at his execution. he expressly bequeathed them to calcraft, who was graciously pleased to accept them. on another occasion an importunate person begged calcraft eagerly to claim his right to the clothes, and give them to him. calcraft consented, got and bestowed the clothes, only to find that the person he had obliged exhibited them publicly. it may be added that of late years the clothes in which a convict has suffered are invariably burnt. capital convicts go to the gallows in their own clothing, and not in prison dress, unless the former is quite unfit to be worn. calcraft shared the odium which his office, not strangely, has always inspired. but he was admitted into the gaol, which his predecessors were not, and who were paid their wages over the gate to obviate the necessity for letting them enter. to this curious etiquette was due the appointment of an official whose office has long since disappeared, "the yeoman of the halter," whose business it was to provide the rope and do the pinioning, and who was paid a fee of five shillings. they did not dislike calcraft, however, at newgate. he was an illiterate, simple-minded man, who scarcely remembered what executions he had performed. he kept no record of them, and when asked questions, referred to the officers of the gaol. his nature must have been kindly. when he came to the prison for his wages his grand-children often accompanied him, affectionately clinging to his hands; and he owned a pet pony which would follow him about like a dog. in his own profession he was not unskilful, but he proceeded entirely by rule of thumb, leaving the result very much to chance and the strength of the rope. he was so much in favour of short drops that his immediate successor, marwood, stigmatized him as a "short-drop" man; marwood being, on the other hand, in favour of giving a man as much rope as possible. with calcraft's method there were undoubtedly many failures, and it was a common custom for him to go below the gallows "just to steady their legs a little;" in other words, to add his weight to that of the hanging bodies. marwood till latterly seemed to have done his work more effectually, and has been known to give as much as six feet fall. this generally produces instantaneous death, although cases where complete fracture of the spinal cord occurred are said to be rare. calcraft served the city of london till , when he was pensioned at the rate of twenty-five shillings per week. the last execution at which he acted was that of godwin, on the th may, . marwood, who succeeded him, and who died while these sheets were in the press, was a lincolnshire man, a native of horncastle, who first took to the work from predilection, and the idea of being useful in his generation, as he himself assured the writer of these pages. until the time of his death he kept a small shop close to the church in horncastle. over the door, in gilt letters, were the words "crown office"; in the window was a pile of official envelopes, ostentatiously displayed, while round about were shoe-strings, boot-laces, and lasts. marwood, strange to say, followed the same trade as calcraft. marwood was proud of his calling, and when questioned as to whether his process was satisfactory, replied that he heard "no complaints." the strange competition amongst hundreds to succeed marwood is a strange fact too recently before the public to need mention here. it may, however, be remarked that the wisdom of appointing any regular hangman is very open to question, and must be strongly deprecated on moral grounds, as tending to the utter degradation of one individual. possibly such changes may be introduced into the method of execution that the ceremony may be made more mechanical, thus rendering the personal intervention of a skilled functionary unnecessary. executions long continued to be in public, in spite of remonstrance and reprobation. the old prejudices, such as that which enlisted dr. johnson on the side of the tyburn procession, still lingered and prevented any change. it was thought that capital punishment would lose its deterrent effect if it ceased to be public, and the _raison d'être_ of the penalty, which in principle so many opposed, would be gone. this line of argument prevailed over the manifest horrors of the spectacle. these increased as time passed. the graphic and terrible account given by charles dickens of the awful scene before horsemonger lane gaol, at the execution of the mannings, has already been quoted. again, the concourse of people collected in front of newgate to witness the execution, simultaneously, of the five pirates, part of the mutinous crew of the 'flowery land,' was greater than on any previous occasion. it was a callous, careless crowd of coarse-minded, semi-brutalized folk, who came to enjoy themselves. few, if any, showed any feeling of terror, none were impressed with the solemnity, or realized the warning which the sight conveyed. the upturned faces of the eager spectators resembled those of the 'gods' at drury lane on boxing night; the crowd had come to witness a popular and gratuitous public performance--better than a prize-fight or a play. no notion that they were assisting at a vindication of the law filled the minds of those present with dread. on the contrary, the prevailing sentiment was one of satisfaction at the success of the spectacle. the remarks heard amongst the crowd were of coarse approval. "s'help me, ain't it fine?" one costermonger was heard to exclaim to his companion. "five of them, all darkies in a row!" the reply evinced equal satisfaction, and the speaker, with a profane oath, declared that he would like to act as jack ketch to the whole lot. to the disgrace of the better-educated and better-bred public, executions could still command the attendance of curious aristocrats from the west end. at müller's execution there was great competition for front seats, and the windows of the opposite houses, which commanded a good view, as usual fetched high prices. as much as £ was paid for a first-floor front on this occasion. never, indeed, had an execution been more generally patronized. this is proved by contemporary accounts, especially one graphic and realistic article which appeared in the 'times,' and which contributed in no small degree to the introduction of private executions. a great crowd was expected, and a great crowd came. they collected over night in the bright light of a november moon. "there were well-dressed and ill-dressed, old men and lads, women and girls." rain fell heavily at intervals, but did not thin the concourse. "till three o'clock it was one long revelry of songs and laughter, shouting, and often quarrelling, though, to do them mere justice, there was at least till then a half-drunken ribald gaiety among the crowd that made them all akin." there were preachers among the crowd, but they could not get a patient hearing. then one struck up the hymn of the promised land, and the refrain was at once taken up with a mighty chorus-- "oh, my! think i've got to die." this was presently superseded by a fresh catch-- "müller, müller, he's the man"; till a diversion was created by the appearance of the gallows, which was received with continuous yells. as day broke the character of the crowd was betrayed. there were but few women, except of the most degraded sort; the men were mostly young men--"sharpers, thieves, gamblers, betting men, the outsiders of the boxing ring, bricklayers' labourers, dock workmen, german artisans and sugar-bakers, ... with the rakings of cheap singing-halls and billiard-rooms, the fast young men of london. but all, whether young or old, men or women, seemed to know nothing, feel nothing, to have no object but the gallows, and to laugh, curse, or shout, as in this heaving and struggling forward they gained or lost in their strong efforts to get nearer where müller was to die." the actual execution made some impression. the crowd was for a moment awed and stilled by the quiet rapid passage from life to death! but before "the slight slow vibrations of the body had well ended, robbery and violence, loud laughing, oaths, fighting, obscene conduct, and still more filthy language reigned round the gallows far and near. such too the scene remained with little change or respite till the old hangman (calcraft) slunk again along the drop, amid hisses and sneering inquiries of what he had had to drink that morning. he, after failing once to cut the rope, made a second attempt more successfully, and the body of müller disappeared from view."[ ] it was preposterous to claim for such a scene as this that it conveyed any great moral lesson, or had any deterring influence. numbers of humane and thoughtful persons had long been convinced of this. already the urgent necessity for abolishing public executions had been brought before the house of commons by mr. hibbert, and the question, as part of the whole subject of capital punishment, had been referred to a royal commission in january . full evidence was taken on all points, and on that regarding public executions there was a great preponderance of opinion towards their abolition, yet the witnesses were not unanimous. some of the judges would have retained the public spectacle; the ordinary of newgate was not certain that public executions were not the best. another distinguished witness feared that any secrecy in the treatment of the condemned would invest them with a new and greater interest, which was much to be deprecated. foreign witnesses, too, were in favour of publicity. on the other hand, lords cranworth and wensleydale recommended private executions; so did mr. spencer walpole, m.p. sir george grey thought there was a growing feeling in favour of executions within the prison precincts. colonel (now sir edmund) henderson was strongly in favour of them, based on his experience of them in western australia. he not only thought them likely to be more deterrent, but believed that a public ceremony destroyed the whole value of an execution. other officials, great lawyers, governors of prisons, and chaplains supported this view. the only doubts expressed were as to the sufficiency of the safeguards, as to the certainty of death and its subsequent publication. but these, it was thought, might be provided by the admission of the press and the holding of a coroner's inquest. duly impressed with the weight of evidence in favour of abolition, the commission recommended that death sentences should be carried out within the gaol, "under such regulations as might be considered necessary to prevent abuse, and satisfy the public that the law had been complied with." but it is curious to note that there were several dissentients among the commissioners to this paragraph of the report. the judge of the admiralty court, the right hon. stephen lushington, the right hon. james moncrieff, lord advocate, mr. charles neate, mr. william ewart, and last, but not least, mr. john bright declared that they were not prepared to agree to the resolution respecting private executions. nevertheless, in the very next session a bill was introduced by mr. hibbert, m.p., and accepted by the government, providing for the future carrying out of executions within prisons. it was read for the first time in march , but did not become law till . the last public execution in front of newgate was that of the fenian michael barrett, who was convicted of complicity in the clerkenwell explosion, intended to effect the release of burke and casey from clerkenwell prison, by which many persons lost their lives. unusual precautions were taken upon this occasion, as some fresh outrage was apprehended. there was no interference with the crowd, which collected as usual, although not to the customary extent. but newgate and its neighbourhood was carefully held by the police, both city and metropolitan. in the houses opposite the prison numbers of detectives mixed with the spectators; inside the gaol was colonel frazer, the chief commissioner of the city police, and at no great distance, although in the background, troops were held in readiness to act if required. everything passed off quite quietly, however, and calcraft, who had been threatened with summary retribution if he executed barrett, carried out the sentence without mishap. the sufferer was stolid and reticent to the last. the first private execution under the new law took place within the precincts of maidstone gaol. the sufferer was a porter on the london, chatham, and dover railway, sentenced to death for shooting the station-master at dover. the ceremony, which was witnessed by only a few officials and representatives of the press, was performed with the utmost decency and decorum. the fact that the execution was to take place within the privacy of the gloomy walls, a fact duly advertised as completed by the hoisting of the black flag over the gaol, had undoubtedly a solemn, impressive effect upon those outside. the same was realized in the first private execution within newgate, that of alexander mackay, who murdered his mistress at norton folgate by beating her with a rolling-pin and furnace-rake, and who expiated his crime on the th september, . a more marked change from the old scene can hardly be conceived. instead of the roar of the brutalized crowd, the officials spoke in whispers; there was but little moving to and fro. almost absolute silence prevailed until the great bell began to toll its deep note, and broke the stillness with its regular and monotonous clangour, and the ordinary, in a voice trembling with emotion, read the burial service aloud. mackay's fortitude, which had been great, broke down at the supreme moment before the horror of the stillness, the awful impressiveness of the scene in which he was the principal actor. no time was lost in carrying out the dread ceremony; but it was not completed without some of the officials turning sick, and the moment it was over, all who could were glad to escape from the last act of the ghastly drama at which they had assisted. private executions at their first introduction were not popular with the newgate officials, and for intelligible reasons. the change added greatly to the responsibilities of the governor and his subordinates. hitherto the public had seemed to assist at the ceremony; the moment too that the condemned man had passed through the debtors' door on to the scaffold the prison had done with him, and the great outside world shared in the completion of the sacrifice. this feeling was the stronger because all the ghastly paraphernalia, the gallows itself and the process of erecting and removing it, rested with the city architect, and not with the prison officials. moreover, after the execution, under the old system, the latter had only to receive the body for burial after it had been cut down by the hangman, and placed decently in a shell by the workmen who removed the gallows. under the new system the whole of the arrangements from first to last fell upon the officers. it was they who formed the chief part of the small select group of spectators; upon them devolved the painful duty of cutting down the body and preparing for the inquest. all that the hangman, whoever he may be, does under the new regime is to unhook the halter and remove the pinioning straps. the interment in a shell filled with quicklime in the passage-way leading to the old bailey is also a part of the duty of the prison officials. this strange burial-ground is one of the most ghastly of the remaining "sights" in newgate. it was sometimes used as an exercising yard, and for the greater security of prisoners it is roofed in with iron bars which gives it, at least overhead, the aspect of a huge cage. underfoot and upon the walls roughly cut into the stones, are single initial letters, the brief epitaphs of those who lie below. as this burial-ground leads to the adjacent central criminal court, accused murderers, on going to and returning from trial, literally walked over what, in case of conviction, would be their own graves. the older officers, with several of whom i have conversed, have thus had unusual opportunities of watching the demeanour of murderers both before trial and after sentence. all as a rule, unless poignant remorse has brought a desire to court their richly-merited retribution, are buoyed up with hope to the last. there is always the chance of a flaw in the indictment, of a missing witness, or extenuating circumstances. even when in the condemned cell, with a shameful death within measurable distance, many cling still to life, expecting much from the intercession of friends or the humanitarianism of the age. all almost without exception sleep soundly at night, except the first after sentence, when the first shock of the verdict and the solemn notification of the impending blow keeps nearly all awake, or at least disturbs their night's rest. but the uneasiness soon wears off. the second night sleep comes readily, and is sound; many of the most abandoned murderers snore peacefully their eight hours, even on the night immediately preceding execution. all too have a fairly good appetite, and eat with relish, up to the last moment. a few go further, and are almost gluttonous. giovanni lanni, the italian boy who murdered a frenchwoman in the haymarket, and was arrested on board ship just as he was about to leave the country, had a little spare cash, which he devoted entirely to the purchase of extra food. he ate constantly and voraciously after sentence, as though eager to cram as many meals as possible into the few hours still left him to live. jeffrey, who murdered his own child, an infant of six, by hanging him in a cellar in seven dials, called for a roast duck directly he entered the condemned cell. the request was not granted, as the old custom of allowing capital convicts whatever they asked for in the way of food has not been the rule in newgate. the diet of the condemned is the ordinary diet of the prison, but to which additions are sometimes made, chiefly of stimulants, if deemed necessary, by the medical officer of the gaol. the craving for tobacco which so dominates the habitual smoker often leads the convicted to plead hard for a last smoke. as a special favour wainwright was allowed a cigar the night before execution, which he smoked in the prison yard, walking up and down with the governor, mr. sydney smith. wainwright's demeanour was one of reckless effrontery steadily maintained to the last. his conversation turned always upon his influence over the weaker sex, and the extraordinary success he had achieved. no woman could resist him, he calmly assured mr. smith that night as they walked together, and he recounted his villanies one by one. his effrontery was only outdone by his cool contempt for the consolations of religion. the man who had made a pious life a cloak for his misdeeds, the once exemplary young man and indefatigable sunday school teacher, went impenitent to the gallows. the only sign of feeling he showed was in asking to be allowed to choose the hymns on the sunday the condemned sermon was preached in the prison chapel, and this was probably only that he might hear the singing of a lady with a magnificent voice who generally attended the prison services. during the singing of these hymns wainwright fainted, but [illustration: _execution shed ( )_] whether from real emotion or the desire to make a sensation was never exactly known. on the fatal morning he came gaily out of his cell, nodded pleasantly to the governor, who stood just opposite, and then walked briskly towards the execution shed, smiling as he went along. there was a smile on his face when it was last seen, and just as the terrible white cap was drawn over it. wainwright's execution was within the gaol, but only nominally private. no less than sixty-seven persons were present, admitted by special permission of the sheriff. rumour even went so far as to assert that among the spectators were several women, disguised in male habiliments; but the story was never substantiated, and we may hope that it rested only on the idle gossip of the day. many, like wainwright, were calm and imperturbable throughout their trying ordeal. catherine wilson, the poisoner,[ ] was reserved and reticent to the last, expressing no contrition, but also no fear--a tall, gaunt, repulsive-looking woman, who no more shrank from cowardly, secret crimes than from the penalty they entailed. kate webster, who was tried at the central criminal court, and passed through newgate, although she suffered at wandsworth, is remembered at the former prison as a defiant, brutal creature who showed no remorse, but was subject to fits of ungovernable passion, when she broke out into language the most appalling. the man marley[ ] displayed fortitude of a less repulsive kind. he acknowledged his guilt from the first. when the sheriff offered him counsel for his defence, he declined, saying he wished to make none--"the witnesses for the prosecution spoke the truth." during the trial and after sentence he remained perfectly cool and collected. when visited one day in the condemned cell, just as st. sepulchre's clock was striking, he looked up and said laughingly, "go along, clock; come along, gallows." he tripped up the chapel-stairs to hear the condemned sermon, and came out with cheerful alacrity on the morning he was to die. some condemned convicts converse but little with the warders who have them unceasingly in charge. others talk freely enough on various topics, but principally upon their own cases. when vanity is strongly developed there is the keen anxiety to hear what is being said about them outside. one was vexed to think that his victims had a finer funeral than he would have. the only subject another showed any interest in was the theatres and the new pieces that were being produced. a third, christian sattler, laughed and jested with the officers about "jack ketch," who, through the postponement of the execution, would lose his christmas dinner. when they brought in the two watchers to relieve guard one night, sattler said, "two fresh men! may i speak to them? yes! i must caution you," he went on to the warders, "not to go to sleep, or i shall be off through that little hole," pointing to an aperture for ventilating the cell. on the morning of execution he asked how far it was to the gallows, and was told it was quite close. "then i shall not wear my coat," he cried; "jack ketch shall not have it," being under the erroneous impression that the convict's clothes were still the executioner's perquisite. often the convicts give way to despair. they are too closely watched to be allowed to do themselves much mischief, or suicides would probably be more frequent. but it is neither easy to obtain the instruments of self-destruction nor to elude the vigilance of their guard. the man, bousfield, however, whose execution was so sadly bungled,[ ] made a determined effort to burn himself to death by throwing himself bodily on to the fire in the condemned ward. he was promptly rescued from his perilous condition, but not before his face and hands were badly scorched. they were still much swollen when he was led out to execution. miller, the chelsea murderer, who packed his victim's body in a box, and tried to send it by parcels delivery, tried to kill himself, but ineffectively, by running his head against his cell wall. a few other cases of the kind have occurred, but they have been rare of late years, whether in newgate or elsewhere. chapter x. newgate notorieties. latest records of crimes--poisoning, revived and more terrible--palmer's case--his trial at the central criminal court, and demeanour in newgate--his imitators--dove--dr. smethurst--catherine wilson--dr. taylor's opinion that poisoning very prevalent--piracy and murder--the 'flowery land'--arrest of the mutineers--their trial and sentence--details of their behaviour while in newgate--murder of mr. briggs in a railway carriage--how brought home to müller--pursuit of murderer and his arrest in new york--müller's conviction--his protest against justice of sentence--confesses guilt when rope is actually round his neck--christian sattler murders a police inspector--latest frauds and robberies--the forgeries of wagner, bateman, and others--principal forger, an aged man, kerp, escapes arrest--robbery of bank of england bank-note paper at tavistock--reward offered--arrests made, followed by expressions which lead to capture of whole gang--buncher and griffiths sentenced--cummings acquitted: his delight--cummings an adroit and inveterate coiner. as these records draw to a close, the crimes i chronicle become so much more recent in date that they will be fresh in the memory of most of my readers. nevertheless, in order to give completeness to the picture i have attempted to draw of crime in connection with newgate, from first to last, i must make some mention, in this my penultimate chapter, of some of the most heinous offences of modern times. the crime of poisoning has always been viewed with peculiar loathing and terror in this country. it will be remembered that as far back as the reign of henry viii. a new and most cruel penalty was devised for the punishment of the bishop of rochester's cook, who had poisoned his master and many of his dependents. sir thomas overbury was undoubtedly poisoned by lord rochester in the reign of james i., and it is hinted that james himself nearly fell a victim to a nefarious attempt of the duke of buckingham. but secret poisoning on a wholesale scale such as was practised in italy and france was happily never popularized in england. the well-known and lethal aqua toffania, so called after its inventress, a roman woman named toffana, and which was so widely adopted by ladies anxious to get rid of their husbands, was never introduced into this country. its admission was probably checked by the increased vigilance at the custom houses, the necessity for which was urged by mr. addison, when secretary of state, in . the cases of poisoning in the british calendars are rare, nor indeed was the guilt of the accused always clearly established. it is quite possible that catherine blandy, who poisoned her father at the instigation of her lover, was ignorant of the destructive character of the powders, probably arsenic, which she administered. captain donellan, who was convicted of poisoning his brother-in-law, sir theodosius broughton, and executed for it, would probably have had the benefit in these days of the doubts raised at his trial. a third case, more especially interesting to us as having passed through newgate, was that of eliza fenning, who was convicted of an attempt to poison a whole family by putting arsenic in the dumplings she had prepared for them. the charge rested entirely on circumstantial evidence, and as fenning, although convicted and executed, protested her innocence in the most solemn manner to the last, the justice of the sentence was doubted at the time. yet it was clearly proved that the dumplings contained arsenic, that she, and she alone, had made the dough, that arsenic was within her reach in the house, that she had had a quarrel with her mistress, and that the latter with all others who tasted the dumplings were similarly attacked, although no one died. the crime of poisoning is essentially one which will be most prevalent in a high state of civilization, when the spread of scientific knowledge places nefarious means at the disposal of many, instead of limiting them, as in the days of the borgias and brinvilliers, to the specially informed and unscrupulously powerful few. the first intimation conveyed to society of the new terror which threatened it was in the arrest and arraignment of william palmer, a medical practitioner, charged with doing to death persons who relied upon his professional skill. the case contained elements of much uncertainty, and yet it was so essential, in the interests and for the due protection of the public, that the fullest and fairest inquiry should be made, that the trial was transferred to the central criminal court, under the authority of an act passed on purpose, known as the trial of offences act, and sometimes as lord campbell's act. that the administration of justice should never be interfered with by local prejudice or local feeling is obviously of paramount importance, and the powers granted by this act have been frequently put in practice since. the trial of catherine winsor, the baby farmer, was thus brought to the central criminal court from exeter assizes, and that of the stauntons from maidstone. palmer's trial caused the most intense excitement. the direful suspicions which surrounded the case filled the whole country with uneasiness and misgiving, and the deepest anxiety was felt that the crime, if crime there had been, should be brought home to its perpetrator. the central criminal court was crowded to suffocation. great personages occupied seats upon the bench; the rest of the available space was allotted by ticket, to secure which the greatest influence was necessary. people came to stare at the supposed cold-blooded prisoner; with morbid curiosity to scan his features and watch his demeanour through the shifting, nicely-balanced phases of his protracted trial. palmer, who was only thirty-one at the time of his trial, was in appearance short and stout, with a round head covered rather scantily with light sandy hair. his skin was extraordinarily fair, his cheeks fresh and ruddy; altogether his face, though commonplace, was not exactly ugly; there was certainly nothing in it which indicated cruel cunning or deliberate truculence. his features were not careworn, but rather set, and he looked older than his age. throughout his trial he preserved an impassive countenance, but he clearly took a deep interest in all that passed. although the strain lasted fourteen days, he showed no signs of exhaustion, either physical or mental. on returning to gaol each day he talked freely and without reserve to the warders in charge of him, chiefly on incidents in the day's proceedings. he was confident to the very last that it would be impossible to find him guilty; even after sentence, and until within a few hours of execution, he was buoyed up with the hope of reprieve. the conviction that he would escape had taken so firm a hold of him, that he steadily refused to confess his guilt, lest it should militate against his chances. in the condemned cell he frequently repeated, "i go to my death a murdered man." he made no distinct admissions even on the scaffold; but when the chaplain at the last moment exhorted him to confess, he made use of the remarkable words, "if it is necessary for my soul's sake to confess this murder,[ ] i ought also to confess the others: i mean my wife and my brother's." yet he was silent when specifically pressed to confess that he had killed his wife and his brother. palmer was ably defended, but the weight of evidence was clearly with the prosecution, led by sir alexander cockburn, and public opinion at the termination of the trial coincided with the verdict of the jury. originally a doctor in practice at rugeley, in staffordshire, he had gradually withdrawn from medicine, and devoted himself to the turf; but his sporting operations did not prosper, and he became a needy man, always driven to desperate straits for cash. to meet his liabilities, he raised large sums on forged bills of acceptance drawn upon his mother, a woman of some means, whose signature he counterfeited. in he owed a very large sum of money, but he was temporarily relieved by the death of his wife, whose life he had insured for £ , . there is every reason to suppose that he poisoned his wife to obtain possession of this sum upon her death. his brother was supposed to have been his next victim, upon whose life he had also effected an insurance for another £ , . the brother too died conveniently, but the life office took some exception to the manner of the death, and hesitated to disburse the funds claimed by palmer. after this palmer tried to get a new insurance on the life of a hanger-on, one bates, but no office would accept it, no doubt greatly to bates's longevity. meanwhile the bill discounters who held the forged acceptances, with other promissory notes, began to clamour for payment, and talk of issuing writs. palmer, alive to the danger he ran of a prosecution for forgery, should the fraud he had committed be brought to light, sought about for a fresh victim to supply him with funds. he fixed upon a sporting friend, mr. john parsons cook, who had been in luck at shrewsbury races, both as a winner and a backer, whom he persuaded to go and stay at rugeley in an hotel just opposite his own house. it was there that cook was first taken ill with violent retchings and vomitings, all dating from visits of palmer, who brought him medicines and food. palmer's plan was to administer poison in quantities insufficient to cause death, but enough to produce illness which would account for death. for this purpose he gave, or there was the strongest presumption that he gave, antimony, which caused cook's constant sickness. quantities of antimony were found in the body after death. while cook lay ill, palmer in his name pocketed the proceeds of the shrewsbury settling, and so got the money for which he was prepared to barter his soul. the last act now approached, and in order to avoid the detection of this last fraud, palmer laid his plans for disposing of cook. he decided to use strychnia, or the vegetable poison otherwise known as _nux vomica_; and one of the many links in the long chain of evidence was an entry in a book of palmer's to the effect that "strychnia kills by causing tetanic fixing of the respiratory muscles." the purchase by palmer of strychnia was proved. the night he bought it, cook, who had been taking certain pills under medical advice, not palmer's, was seized with violent convulsions. he had swallowed his pills as usual, at least palmer had administered them--whether the ordinary or his own pills will never be known, except as may be inferred from the results, which indicate that he had taken the latter. cook recovered this time; it was probably palmer's intention that he should recover, wishing to encourage the supposition that cook was in a bad way. next night cook had a second and a more violent attack. that day palmer had bought more strychnia, and had called in a fresh doctor. the second attack was fatal, and ended in cook's death from tetanus. this tetanus, according to the prosecution, was produced by strychnia, and followed the administration of pills by palmer prescribed nominally by the fresh doctor, for which palmer had substituted his own. cook's death was horrible--fearful paroxysms and cramps, ending in suffocation by the tetanic rigour which caught the muscles of the chest. after cook's death his stepfather, who was much attached to him, came to rugeley. he was struck with the appearance of the corpse, which was not emaciated, as after a long disease ending in death; while the muscles of the fingers were tightly clenched, not open, as usual in a corpse. he said nothing, but began to feel uneasy when he found that cook's betting-book was missing, and that palmer put it forward that his friend had died greatly embarrassed, with bills to the amount of £ out in his name. palmer too showed an indecent haste in preparing the body for interment, and in obtaining the usual certificate. after this the step-father insisted upon a post-mortem, which was conducted somewhat carelessly. the intestines were, however, preserved and sent for analysis, but it was proved that palmer tried hard to get possession of the jar containing them, and even sought to upset the vehicle by which they were being conveyed a part of the way to london. the examination of the stomach betrayed the presence of antimony in large quantities, but no strychnia, and it was on the entire absence of the latter that the defence was principally based when palmer was brought to trial. all the circumstances were so suspicious that he could not escape the criminal charge. he had already been arrested on a writ issued at the instance of the money-lenders, and an action had been commenced against mrs. palmer on her acceptances. it came out at once that these had been forged, and the whole affair at once took the ugliest complexion. a government prosecution was instituted, and palmer was brought to newgate for trial at the central criminal court. there was not much reserve about him when there. he frequently declared before and during the trial that it would be impossible to find him guilty. he never actually said that he was not guilty, but he was confident he would not be convicted. he relied on the absence of the strychnia. but the chain of circumstantial evidence was strong enough to satisfy the jury, who agreed to their verdict in an hour. at the last moment palmer tossed a bit of paper over to his counsel, on which he had written, "i think there will be a verdict of not guilty." even after the death sentence had been passed upon him he clung to the hope that the government would grant him a reprieve. to the last, therefore, he played the part of a man wrongfully convicted, and did not abandon hope even when the high sheriff had told him there was no possibility of a reprieve, and within a few hours of execution. he suffered at stafford in front of the gaol. palmer speedily found imitators. within a few weeks occurred the leeds poisoning case, in which the murderer undoubtedly was inspired by the facts made public at palmer's trial. dove, a fiendish brute, found from the evidence in that case that he could kill his wife, whom he hated, with exquisite torture, and with a poison that would leave, as he thought, no trace. in the latter hope he was happily disappointed. but as this case is beyond my subject, i merely mention it as one of the group already referred to. three years later came the case of dr. smethurst, presenting still greater features of resemblance with palmer's, for both were medical men, and both raised difficult questions of medical jurisprudence. in both the jury had no doubt as to the guilt of the accused, only in smethurst's case the then home secretary, sir george cornewall lewis, could not divest his mind of serious doubt, and of which the murderer got the benefit. smethurst's escape may have influenced the jury in the poplar poisoning case, which followed close on its heels, although in that the verdict of "not guilty" was excusable, as the evidence was entirely circumstantial. there was no convincing proof that the accused had administered the poison, although beyond question that poison had occasioned the death. dr. smethurst was long an inmate of newgate, and was tried at the central criminal court. he had all the characteristics of the poisoner--the calm deliberation, the protracted dissimulation, as with unshrinking, relentless wickedness the deadly work is carried on to the end. smethurst's victim was a miss bankes, with whom he had contracted a bigamous marriage. he had met her at a boarding-house, where he lived with his own wife, a person of "shady" antecedents, and whom he left without scruple to join miss bankes. the latter seems to have succumbed only too willingly to his fascinations, and to have as readily agreed to marry him, in spite of the existence of the other mrs. smethurst. probably the doctor had told her the story he brought forward when tried for bigamy, namely, that mrs. smethurst had no right to the name, but had a husband of her own, one johnson, alive--a story subsequently disproved. miss bankes seems to have counted upon some species of whitewashing, no less than the repudiation of the other marriage, and told her sister as much when they last met. for some months smethurst and miss bankes lived together as man and wife, first in london, and then at richmond. she had a little fortune of her own, some £ or £ , and a life-interest in £ , a fact on which smethurst's counsel dwelt with much weight, as indicating a motive for keeping her alive rather than killing her. but probably the lump sum was the bait, or perhaps smethurst wished to return to his temporarily deserted first wife. whatever the exact cause which impelled him to crime, it seems certain that he began to give her some poison, either arsenic or antimony, or both, in small quantities, with the idea of subjecting her to the irritant poison slowly but surely until the desired effect, death, was achieved. as she became worse and worse, smethurst called in the best medical advice in richmond, but was careful to prime them with his facts and lead them if possible to accept his diagnosis of the case. smethurst was found guilty by the jury, and sentenced to death. but a long public discussion followed, and in consequence he was reprieved. the home secretary, in a letter to the lord chief baron, stated that "although the facts are full of suspicion against smethurst, there is not absolute and complete evidence of his guilt." smethurst was therefore given a free pardon for the offence of murder, but he was subsequently again tried for bigamy, and sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment. catherine wilson was a female poisoner who did business wholesale. she was tried in april on suspicion of having attempted to poison a neighbour with oil of vitriol. the circumstances were strange. mrs. wilson had gone to the chemist's for medicine, and on her return had administered a dose of something which burnt the mouth badly, but did not prove fatal. wilson was acquitted on this charge, but other suspicious facts cropped up while she was in newgate. it appeared that several persons with whom she was intimate had succumbed suddenly. in all cases the symptoms were much the same, vomiting, violent retching, purging, such as are visible in cholera, and all dated from the time when she knew a young man named dixon, who had been in the habit of taking colchicum for rheumatism. mrs. wilson heard then casually from a medical man that it was a very dangerous medicine, and she profited by what she had heard. soon afterwards dixon died, showing all the symptoms already described. soon afterwards a friend, mrs. atkinson, came to london from westmoreland, and stayed in mrs. wilson's house. she was in good health on leaving home, and had with her a large sum of money. while with mrs. wilson she became suddenly and alarmingly ill, and died in great agony. her husband, who came up to town, would not allow a post-mortem, and again mrs. wilson escaped. mrs. atkinson's symptoms had been the same as dixon's. then mrs. wilson went to live with a man named taylor, who was presently attacked in the same way as the others, but, thanks to the prompt administration of remedies, he recovered. after this came the charge of administering oil of vitriol, which failed, as has been described. last of all mrs. wilson poisoned her landlady, mrs. soames, under precisely the same conditions as the foregoing. here, however, the evidence was strong and sufficient. it was proved that mrs. wilson had given mrs. soames something peculiar to drink, that immediately afterwards mrs. soames was taken ill with vomiting and purging, and that mrs. wilson administered the same medicine again and again. the last time mrs. soames showed great reluctance to take it, but wilson said it would certainly do her good. this mysterious medicine wilson kept carefully locked up, and allowed no one to see it, but its nature was betrayed when this last victim also died. the first post-mortem indicated death from natural causes, but a more careful investigation attributed it beyond doubt to over-doses of colchicum. dr. alfred taylor, the great authority and writer on medical jurisprudence, corroborated this, and in his evidence on the trial fairly electrified the court by declaring it his opinion that many deaths, supposed to be from cholera, were really due to poison. this fact was referred to by the judge in his summing up, who said that he feared it was only too true that secret poisoning was at that time very rife in the metropolis. wilson was duly sentenced to death, and suffered impenitent, hardened, and without any confession of her guilt. although murder by insidious methods had become more common, cases where violence of the most deadly and determined kind was offered had not quite disappeared. i will mention two cases of this class, one accompanied with piracy on the high seas, the other perpetrated in a railway-carriage, and showing the promptitude with which criminals accept and utilize altered conditions of life, more particularly as regards locomotion. the first case was that of the 'flowery land,' which left london for singapore on the th july, , with a cargo of wine and other goods. her captain was john smith; the first and second mates, karswell and taffir; there were two other englishmen on board, and the rest of the crew were a polyglot lot, most of them, as was proved by their subsequent acts, blackguards of the deepest dye. six were spaniards, or rather natives of manilla, and men of colour; one was a greek, another a turk; there were also a frenchman, a norwegian (the carpenter), three chinamen, a "sclavonian," and a black on board. navigation and discipline could not be easy with such a nondescript crew. the captain was kindly but somewhat intemperate, the first mate a man of some determination, and punishment such as rope's-ending and tying to the bulwarks had to be applied to get the work properly done. the six spaniards, the greek, and the turk were in the same watch, eight truculent and reckless scoundrels, who, brooding over their fancied wrongs, and burning for revenge, hatched amongst them a plot to murder their officers and seize the ship. the mutiny was organized with great secrecy, and broke out most unexpectedly in the middle of the night. a simultaneous attack was made upon the captain and the first mate. the latter had the watch on deck. one half of the mutineers fell upon him unawares with handspikes and capstan-bars. he was struck down, imploring mercy, but they beat him about the head and face till every feature was obliterated, and then, still living, flung him into the sea. meanwhile the captain, roused from his berth, came out of the cabin, was caught near the 'companion' by the rest of the mutineers, and promptly despatched with daggers. his body was found lying in a pool of blood in a night-dress, stabbed over and over again in the left side. the captain's brother, a passenger on board the 'flowery land,' was also stabbed to death and his body thrown overboard. the second mate, who had heard the hammering of the capstan-bars and the handspikes, with the first mate's and captain's agonized cries, had come out, verified the murderers, and then shut himself up in his cabin. he was soon summoned on deck, but as he would not move, the mutineers came down and stood in a circle round his berth. leon, or lyons, who spoke english, when asked said they would spare his life if he would navigate the ship for them to the river plate or buenos ayres. taffir, the second mate, agreed, but constantly went in fear of his life for the remainder of the voyage; and although the mutineers spared him, they ill-treated the chinamen, and cut one badly with knives. immediately after the murder cases of champagne, which formed part of the cargo, were brought on deck and broached; the captain's cabin ransacked, his money and clothes divided amongst the mutineers, as well as much of the merchandise on board. leon wished to make every one on board share and share alike, so as to implicate the innocent with the guilty; but vartos, or watto, the turk, would not allow any but the eight mutineers to have anything. the murders were perpetrated on the th september, and the ship continued her voyage for nearly three weeks, meeting and speaking one ship only. on the nd october they sighted land, ten miles distant; the mutineers took command of the ship, put her about till night-fall, by which time they had scuttled her, got out the boats, and all left the ship. the rest of the crew were also permitted to embark, except the chinamen, one of whom was thrown into the water and drowned, while the other two were left to go down in the ship, and were seen clinging to the tops until the waters closed over them. the boats reached the shore on the th october. leon had prepared a plausible tale to the effect that they belonged to an american ship from peru bound to bordeaux, which had foundered at sea; that they had been in the boats five days and nights, but that the captain and others had been lost. the place at which they landed was not far from the entrance to the river plate. a farmer took them in for the night, and drove them next day to rocha, a place north of maldonado. taffir, the mate, finding there was a man who could speak english at another place twenty miles off, repaired there secretly, and so gave information to the brazilian authorities. the mutineers were arrested, the case inquired into by a naval court-martial, and the prisoners eventually surrendered to the british authorities, brought to england, and lodged in newgate. their trial followed at the central criminal court. eight were arraigned at the same time: six spaniards, leon, blanco, duranno, santos, and marsolino; vartos the turk, and carlos the greek. seven were found guilty of murder on the high seas, and one, carlos, acquitted. two of the seven, santos and marsolino, were reprieved, and their sentences commuted to penal servitude for life; the remaining five were executed in one batch. they were an abject, miserable crew, cowards at heart; but some, especially lopez, continued bloodthirsty to the last. lopez took a violent dislike to the officer of the ward in charge of them, and often expressed a keen desire to do for him. they none of them spoke much english except leon, commonly called lyons. after condemnation, as the rules now kept capital convicts strictly apart, they could not be lodged in the two condemned cells, and they were each kept in an ordinary separate cell of the newly-constructed block, with the "traps," or square openings in the cell door, let down. a full view of them was thus at all times obtainable by the officers who, without intermission, day and night patrolled the ward. on the morning of execution the noise of fixing the gallows in the street outside awoke one or two of them. lyons asked the time, and was told it was only five. "ah!" he remarked, "they will have to wait for us then till eight." lopez was more talkative. when the warder went in to call him he asked for his clothes. he was told he would have to wear his own. "not give clothes? in russia, italy, always give chaps clothes." then he wanted to know when the policemen would arrive, and was told none would come. "the soldiers then?" no soldiers either. "what, you not afraid let us go all by ourselves? not so in russia or spain." the convicts were pinioned one by one and sent singly out to the gallows. as the first to appear would have some time to wait for his fellows, a difficult and painful ordeal, the seemingly most courageous was selected to lead the way. this was duranno; but the sight of the heaving mass of uplifted, impassioned faces was too much for his nerves, and he so nearly fainted that he had to be seated in a chair. the execution went off without mishap. in july occurred the murder of mr. briggs, a gentleman advanced in years and chief clerk in robarts' bank. as the circumstances under which it was perpetrated were somewhat novel,[ ] and as some time elapsed before the discovery and apprehension of the supposed murderer, the public mind was greatly agitated by the affair for several months. the story of the murder must be pretty familiar to most of my readers. mr. briggs left the bank one afternoon as usual, dined with his daughter at peckham, then returned to the city to take the train from fenchurch street home, travelling by the north london railway. he lived at hackney, but he never reached it alive. when the train arrived at hackney station, a passenger who was about to enter one of the carriages found the cushions soaked with blood. inside the carriage was a hat, a walking-stick, and a small black leather bag. about the same time a body was discovered on the line near the railway-bridge by victoria park. it was that of an aged man, whose head had been battered in by a life-preserver. there was a deep wound just over the ear, the skull was fractured, and there were several other blows and wounds on the head. strange to say, the unfortunate man was not yet dead, and he actually survived more than four-and-twenty hours. his identity was established by a bundle of letters in his pocket, which bore his full address: "t. briggs, esq., robarts & co., lombard street." the friends of mr. briggs were communicated with, and it was ascertained that when he left home the morning of the murderous attack, he wore gold-rimmed eye-glasses and a gold watch and chain. the stick and bag were his, but not the hat. a desperate and deadly struggle must have taken place in the carriage, and the stain of a bloody hand marked the door. the facts of the murder and its object, robbery, were thus conclusively proved. it was also easily established that the hat found in the carriage had been bought at walker's, a hatter's in crawford street, marylebone; while within a few days mr. briggs' gold chain was traced to a jeweller's in cheapside, mr. death, who had given another in exchange for it to a man supposed to be a foreigner. more precise clues to the murderer were not long wanting; indeed the readiness with which they were produced and followed up showed how greatly the publicity and wide dissemination of the news regarding murder facilitate the detection of crime. in little more than a week a cabman came forward and voluntarily made a statement which at once drew suspicion to a german, franz müller, who had been a lodger of his. müller had given the cabman's little daughter a jeweller's cardboard box bearing the name of mr. death. a photograph of müller shown the jeweller was identified as the likeness of the man who had exchanged mr. briggs' chain. last of all, the cabman swore that he had bought the very hat found in the carriage for müller at the hatter's, walker's of crawford street. this fixed the crime pretty certainly upon müller, who had already left the country, thus increasing suspicion under which he lay. there was no mystery about his departure; he had gone to canada, by the 'victoria' sailing ship, starting from the london docks, and bound to new york. directly the foregoing facts were established, a couple of detective officers, armed with a warrant to arrest müller, and accompanied by mr. death the jeweller and the cabman, went down to liverpool and took the first steamer across the atlantic. this was the 'city of manchester,' which was expected to arrive some days before the 'victoria,' and did so. the officers went on board the 'victoria' at once, müller was identified by mr. death, and the arrest was made. in searching the prisoner's box, mr. briggs' watch was found wrapped up in a piece of leather, and müller at the time of his capture was actually wearing mr. briggs' hat, cut down and somewhat altered. the prisoner was forthwith extradited and sent back to england, which he reached with his escort on the th september the same year. his trial followed at the next sessions of the central criminal court, and ended in his conviction. the case was one of circumstantial evidence, but, as sir robert collyer the solicitor-general pointed out, it was the strongest circumstantial evidence which had ever been brought forward in a murder case. it was really evidence of facts which could not be controverted or explained away. there was the prisoner's poverty, his inability to account for himself on the night of the murder, and his possession of the property of the murdered man. an alibi was set up for the defence, but not well substantiated, and the jury without hesitation returned a verdict of guilty. müller protested after sentence of death had been passed upon him that he had been convicted on a false statement of facts. he adhered to this almost to the very last. his case had been warmly espoused by the society for the protection of germans in this country, and powerful influence was exerted both here and abroad to obtain a reprieve. müller knew that any confession would ruin his chances of escape. his arguments were specious and evasive when pressed to confess. "why should man confess to man?" he replied; "man cannot forgive man, only god can do so. man is therefore only accountable to god." but on the gallows, when the cap was over his eyes and the rope had been adjusted round his neck, and within a second of the moment when he would be launched into eternity, he whispered in the ear of the german pastor who attended him on the scaffold, "i did it." while in the condemned cell he conversed freely with the warders in broken english or through an interpreter. he is described as not a bad-looking man, with a square german type of face, blue eyes which were generally half closed, and very fair hair. he was short in stature, his legs were light for the upper part of his body, which was powerful, almost herculean. it is generally supposed that he committed the murder under a sudden access of covetousness and greed. he saw mr. briggs' watch-chain, and followed him instantly into the carriage, determined to have it at all costs. his crime under this aspect of it was less premeditated, and less atrocious therefore, than that of lefroy. one other curious murder may be added to the two foregoing. christian sattler was by birth a german. he had led a wild life; had left his native land and enlisted first in the french army in algeria, afterwards in the british german legion raised for the crimean war. at the disbandment of the force, as he was without resources, he turned his attention to hotel robberies, by which he lived for some years. he at length stole a carpet-bag containing valuables, and fled to hamburgh. thither he was pursued by a detective officer, inspector thain, who, being unable to obtain his extradition legally, had him inveigled on board an english steamer, where the arrest was made. sattler was ironed for safe custody, a proceeding which he vehemently resented, and begged that they might be removed, as the handcuffs hurt his wrists. the inspector said that they could not be removed till he reached england. this reply of his contained no promise of immediate release. sattler probably misunderstood, and he declared that the police officer had broken faith with him, having, moreover, stated that while at sea the captain of the ship was responsible for the security of the prisoner. as sattler brooded over his wrongs, his rage got the upper hand, and he resolved to wreak it upon thain. although manacled, he managed to get a pistol from his chest and load it. the next time thain entered his cabin he fired at him point-blank, and lodged three bullets in his breast. the unfortunate man survived till he landed, but died in guy's hospital. sattler was tried for murder and convicted; his defence being that he had intended to commit suicide, but that, on the appearance of this officer who had wronged him, he had yielded to an irresistible impulse to kill him. sattler was a very excitable although not an ill-tempered man. while in newgate awaiting trial he frequently tried to justify his murder by declaring that the police officer had broken faith with him. he would shoot any man or any policeman like a dog, or any number of them, who had treated him in that way. his demeanour immediately preceding his execution i have referred to in the last chapter. several cases of gigantic fraud, rivalling any already recorded, were brought to light between and . i propose next to describe the leading features of the most important of these. another case of long-continued successful forgery was brought to light two years after the convictions of saward and his accomplices. this conspiracy was cleverly planned, but had scarcely so many ramifications as that of saward. its originators were a couple of men, wagner and bateman, who had already been convicted of systematic forgery, and sentenced to transportation, but they had been released on ticket-of-leave in . as a blind for their new frauds, they set up as law-stationers in york buildings, adelphi, and at once commenced their nefarious traffic. forged cheques and bills were soon uttered in great numbers, as well as base coin. the police suspecting the house in york buildings, put a watch on the premises, which they kept up for more than a year, and thus obtained personal knowledge of all who passed in and out, but without obtaining any direct evidence. at length a man was caught in the act of passing a forged cheque at the union bank, and recognized as one of the frequenters of the bogus law-stationers. his arrest led to that of others. among them was a man named chandler, formerly a bill discounter by profession, who by degrees, to meet his extravagant expenditure, took to appropriating the bills intrusted to him, and so lost his business, after which he became a clerk to messrs. wagner and bateman. chandler while in newgate turned informer, and betrayed the whole conspiracy. besides his employers, a jeweller named humphreys was in the "swim," at whose shop in red lion square was discovered a quantity of base gold and silver coins, with all the latest appliances for coining, including those of electroplating; also a furniture dealer and one or two more commonplace rogues. the arch villain was never taken into custody. he, like saward, was an artist in penmanship. he was a german named kerp, eighty years of age, who had spent his whole life in imitating other people's signatures, and had acquired the most consummate skill in the practice. his copies were generally pronounced indistinguishable from and as good as the originals. the aged but wary kerp, the moment the plot was discovered, vanished, and was never more heard of. much the same plan was adopted by these forgers as by saward to get their cheques cashed. they advertised for clerks, and employed the most likely of the applicants by sending them to the bank. it was one of these, glendinning, who had allowed himself to be utilized for some time in this way, whose capture led to the breaking up of the gang. the principals in this conspiracy, wagner and bateman, were sentenced to penal servitude for life, the others to twenty and ten years. it was stated in evidence that the monies obtained by these forgeries amounted to £ or £ , , and that the forged cheques which had been presented, but refused, amounted to double the sum. wagner, after conviction, offered to reveal, for a reward of £ , a system which had long been in practice of defrauding the exchequer of vast sums by means of forged stamps. his offer was not, however, accepted. a more elaborate plot in many ways, more secretly, more patiently prepared than the preceding, or indeed than any in the calendar, was the case of the forgeries upon the bank of england discovered in , but not before the forged paper had been put in circulation for more than a couple of years. in a man named burnett came with his wife and took up his residence at whitchurch, hampshire, at no great distance from laverstock, where are messrs. portal's mills for the manufacture of bank-note paper. burnett had only just come out of gaol after completing a sentence of penal servitude. his object in visiting whitchurch was to undermine the honesty of some workman in the mills; and he eventually succeeded, his wife making the first overtures, in persuading a lad named brown to steal some of the bank paper. brown took several sheets, and then was detected by brewer, a fellow-workman of superior grade, who threatened to betray the theft. but brewer, either before or after this, succumbed to temptation, and stole paper on a much larger scale than brown. all that was taken was handed over to burnett, or a "woman in black" whom brown met by appointment at waterloo station. to facilitate his operations, brewer obtained a false master key from burnett, which gave him access to all parts of the mills, the packing-room included. in this part of the mills a large quantity of bank-note paper was kept at the period of the robbery, and in the states known as "water-leaf" and "sized," which are the penultimate processes of manufacture. one more remains, that of "glazing," without which no paper is issued for engraving. none of the stolen paper was glazed, and this was an important clue to the subsequent discovery of the crime. some time in a large deficiency in the stock of bank paper unglazed was discovered at the mills. soon afterwards the inspectors of bank-notes at the bank of england detected the presentation at the bank of spurious notes on genuine paper. the two facts taken in conjunction led to the employment of the police, and the offer of a reward of £ for the detection of the offenders. by this time brown alone had stolen three or four hundred sheets, each containing two notes, many of the sheets suitable for engraving any kind of note from £ downwards. the amount of brewer's abstractions (who was eventually acquitted) was never exactly estimated. suspicion appears to have rested on brown, who had left laverstock, and he was soon approached by the police. almost directly he was questioned he made a clean breast of the whole affair. the next step was to take the principals, and under such circumstances as would insure their conviction. a watch was set on burnett, who was followed to the shop of one buncher, a butcher in strutton ground. buncher was then tracked to north kent terrace, new cross, where a mr. and mrs. campbell resided, with whom he did business in exchanging the false notes. the police officers now taxed mrs. campbell with complicity, and frightened her into collusion. with her assistance on a certain day a couple of bricks were taken out of the wall dividing her front and back parlours; the officers ensconced themselves in the latter, and waited for buncher's expected visit. he came to complete a sale of forged notes, and he wanted a couple of hundred pounds for what he had. mrs. campbell offered him less, and there was an altercation, in the course of which buncher became very violent, and at length, after using much intemperate language, he left the place in a huff. in the course of his remarks, however, he said, "i am the man that has got all the bank paper; i have £ , now, and the bank of england cannot stop it." this was all the police wanted to know. they next watched buncher, and found that he paid frequent visits to birmingham. they also discovered that through the intermediacy of one robert cummings, well known as a reputed coiner, he had been introduced to a man named griffiths, an engraver and copper-plate printer. griffiths was an unusually clever and skilful workman, who had devoted all his talent and all his energies for some seventeen years to the fabrication of false bank-notes. on a certain day, the th october, , the two were arrested simultaneously; buncher in london, and griffiths in birmingham. nothing was found in buncher's premises in strutton ground, which were thoroughly searched, but proofs of griffiths' guilt were at once apparent on entering his work-room. in one corner was a printing-press actually in use, and on it were twenty-one forged bank of england notes, without date or signature. on the bed were twenty forged ten-pound notes complete and ready for use, and twenty-five five-pound notes. "mother plates" for engraving the body of the notes lay about, and other plates for various processes. more than this, griffiths took the police to a field where, in a bank, a number of other plates were secreted. griffiths afterwards admitted that he had been employed in defrauding the bank since , and the prominent part he played secured for him on conviction the heaviest sentence of the law. this was penal servitude for life, buncher's sentence being twenty-five, and burnett's twenty years. cummings, who had introduced buncher to griffiths, was also tried for being in possession of stolen bank paper for improper purposes. but as there was no independent corroboration of the informer's evidence, according to the custom of the british law, the case was considered not proved, and he was acquitted. on his return to newgate to be finally discharged, cummings jumped up the stairs and fairly danced for joy. but he was not long at large; he was too active an evil-doer, and was perpetually in trouble. commencing life as a resurrection man, when that trade failed through the change in the law, and no more bodies were to be bought, he devoted his energies to coining and forgery, and in the latter line was a friend and associate of saward's. one narrow escape he had, however, before he abandoned his old business. a bow street officer saw him leaving london in the evening by camberwell green, accompanied by two other men. it was well known that they were resurrectionists, and a strict watch was kept at all the turnpike gates on the southern roads leading into london. an officer was placed for this purpose at new cross, camberwell, and kennington gates. presently "old bob" drove up to camberwell gate in the same cart in which he had been seen to start. the officers rushed out to detain him. "what have you got here? we must search the cart," they cry. "by all means," replies bob, and a close investigation follows, without any detection of the corpse concealed. bob was therefore allowed to pass on. but they had the body, all the same; it had been dressed up in decent clothes and made to stand upright in the cart. with the police officers it had passed muster as a living member of the party. cummings was repeatedly "run in" for the offence of coining and uttering bad money, whether coin or notes. his regular trade, followed before he took to the life of resurrectionist, was that of an engraver. he was a notorious criminal, an habitual offender in his own particular line, one who would stick at no trifles to evade detection or escape capture. it is told of "bob" brennan, an official specially employed for years by the mint to watch and prosecute coiners, that he received information that coining was carried on by cummings and others at a place in westminster. he went there with a posse of officers and forced his way upstairs to the first floor, where the coiners, unexpectedly disturbed, fell an easy prey. but the police nearly paid the penalty of capture with their lives. proceeding cautiously down the stairs, they found that the flooring at the bottom had been taken up. where it had lain was a yawning gulf or trap sufficient to do for the whole body of police engaged in the capture. cummings was caught shortly afterwards. he was a tall, slender man, with a long face and iron-gray hair. the community of coiners of which he was so notorious a member were a low lot, the lowest among criminals except, perhaps, the 'smashers,' or those who passed the counterfeit money. it was not easy to detect coiners, or bring home their guilt to them. those who manufactured and those who passed had no direct dealings with each other. the false coin was bought by an agent from an agent, and dealings were carried on secretly at the "clock house" in seven dials. the annals of fraudulent crime probably contain nothing which in dramatic interest can compare with the conviction of william roupell for forgery. as the case must still be well remembered by the present generation, it will be necessary to give here only the briefest summary. william roupell was the eldest but illegitimate son of a wealthy man who subsequently married roupell's mother, and had further legitimate issue. william was brought up as an attorney, and became in due course his father's man of business. as such he had pretty general control over his father's estates and affairs. in he instructed certain solicitors to prepare a deed of gift as from his father, conveying to him estates near kingston. the old gentleman's signature to this deed of gift was a forgery, but upon this forged and false conveyance william roupell, who had already embarked upon a career of wild extravagance, obtained a mortgage of £ . in the father died. it had been supposed up to this date that he had willed his property, amounting in all to upwards of £ , , but after the funeral william roupell produced another and a later will, leaving everything to the widow, and constituting william sole executor. this will was a deliberate forgery. five or six years later, william roupell minutely described how he had effected the fraud. the day his father died he got the keys of his private bureau, opened it, and took out the authentic will. after reading it, and finding this unfavourable to himself, he resolved to carry out his deliberate plan, namely, to suppress it and substitute another. he himself prepared it on a blank form which he had brought with him on purpose. to this fraudulent instrument he appended forged signatures, and in due course obtained probate. as he possessed nearly unbounded influence over his mother, her accession to the property meant that william could dispose of it as he pleased. he embarked forthwith in a career of the wildest extravagance, and ere long he had parted in his mother's name with most of the landed estates. one large item of his expenditure was a contested election at lambeth, which he gained at a cost of £ , . no fortune could stand the inroads he made into his mother's money, and in he was obliged to fly the country, hopelessly and irretrievably ruined. his disappearance gave colour and substance to evil reports already in circulation that the will and conveyance above referred to were fictitious documents. his next brother, who should have inherited under the authentic will, forthwith brought an ejectment on the possessor of lands purchased on the authority of the forged conveyance and will. the case was tried at guildford assizes, and caused intense excitement, the hardship to the holders of these lands being plain, should the allegations of invalidity be made good. the effect of establishing the forgeries would be to restore to the roupell family lands for which a price had already been paid in all good faith to another, but a criminal member of the family. at first the case was contested hotly, but, to the profound astonishment of every one inside and outside the court, william roupell himself was brought as a principal witness to clench the case by a confession altogether against himself. he told his story with perfect coolness and self-possession, but in a grave and serious tone. "every word he uttered was said with consideration, and sometimes with a long pause, but at the same time with an air of the most entire truthfulness and candour." he confessed himself a perjurer in having sworn to the false will, and a wholesale forger, having manufactured no less than ten false signatures to deeds involving on the whole some £ , . for these crimes william roupell was tried at the central criminal court on the th september, . he declined to plead, but a plea of "not guilty" was recorded. the case was easily and rapidly disposed of. roupell made a long statement more in exculpation than in his defence. he complained that he had at first been the dupe of others, and admitted that he had too readily fallen astray. but while repudiating the charges made against him of systematic extravagance and immorality, he confessed that his whole life had been a gigantic mistake, and he was ready to make what atonement he could. mr. justice byles, in passing sentence, commented severely upon the commission of such crimes by a man in roupell's position in life, and passed the heaviest sentence of the law, transportation for life. roupell received the announcement with a cheerful countenance, and left the dock with evident satisfaction and relief at the termination of a most painful ordeal. roupell was quiet and submissive while in newgate, unassuming in manner, and ready to make the best of his position. he carried this character with him into penal servitude, and after enduring the full severity of his punishment for several years, was at length advanced to the comparative ease of a post much coveted by convicts, that of hospital nurse. his uniform good conduct gained him release from portland on ticket-of-leave in , just twenty years after his conviction. a daring and cleverly-planned robbery of diamonds was that of the tarpeys, man and wife, from an assistant of loudon and ryder's, the jewellers in bond street. the trick was an old one. the assistant called with the jewels on approbation at a house specially hired for the purpose in the west end, and was rendered insensible by chloroform, after which he was bound and the precious stones stolen. mrs. tarpey was almost immediately captured and put on her trial, but she was acquitted on the plea that she had acted under the coercion of her husband. tarpey was caught through his wife, who was followed, disguised, and with her hair dyed black, to a house in the marylebone road, where she met her husband. on tarpey's defence it was stated that the idea of the theft had been suggested to him by a novel, at a time he had lost largely on the turf. the first plot was against mr. harry emmanuel, but he escaped, and the attempt was made upon loudon and ryder. the last great case of fraud upon the bank of england will fitly close this branch of the criminal records of newgate. this was the well and astutely devised plot of the brothers bidwell, assisted by macdonell and noyes, all of them citizens of the united states, by which the bank lost upwards of £ , . the commercial experience of these clever rogues was cosmopolitan. their operations were no less world-wide. in they crossed the atlantic, and by means of forged letters of credit and introduction from london, obtained large sums from continental banks, in berlin, dresden, bordeaux, marseilles, and lyons. with this as capital they came back to england _viâ_ buenos ayres, and austin bidwell opened a _bonâ fide_ credit in the burlington or west end branch of the bank of england, to which he was introduced by a well-known tailor in saville row. after this the other conspirators travelled to obtain genuine bills and master the system of the leading houses at home and abroad. when all was ready, bidwell first "refreshed his credit" at the bank of england, as well as disarmed suspicion, by paying in a genuine bill of messrs. rothschilds' for £ , which was duly discounted. then he explained to the bank manager that his transactions at birmingham would shortly be very large, owing to the development of his business there in the alleged manufacture of pullman cars. the ground thus cleared, the forgers poured in from birmingham numbers of forged acceptances, all of which were discounted to the value of £ , . the fraud was rendered possible by the absence of a check usual in the united states. there such bills would be sent to the drawer to be initialled, and the forgery would have been at once detected. it was the discovery of this flaw in the banking system which had encouraged the americans to attempt this crime. time was clearly an important factor in the fraud, hence the bills were sent forward in quick succession. long before they came to maturity the forgers hoped to be well beyond arrest. they had, moreover, sought to destroy all clue. the sums obtained by bidwell in the name of "warren" at the bank of england were lodged at once by drafts to "horton," another alias, in the continental bank. for these cash was obtained in notes; the notes were exchanged by one of the conspirators for gold at the bank of england, and again the same day a second conspirator exchanged the gold for notes. but just as all promised well, the frauds were detected through the carelessness of the forgers. they had omitted to insert the dates in certain bills. the bills were sent as a matter of form to the drawer to have the date added, and the forgery was at once detected. noyes was seized without difficulty, as it was a part of the scheme that he should act as the dupe, and remain on the spot in london till all the money was obtained. through noyes the rest of the conspirators were eventually apprehended. very little if any of the ill-gotten proceeds, however, was ever recovered. large sums, as they were realized, were transmitted to the united states, and invested in various american securities, where probably the money still remains. the prisoners, who were committed to newgate for trial, had undoubtedly the command of large funds while there, and would have readily disbursed it to effect their enlargement. a plot was soon discovered, deep laid, and with many ramifications, by which some of the newgate warders were to be bribed to allow the prisoners to escape from their cells at night. certain friends of the prisoners were watched, and found to be in communication with these warders, to whom it was said £ apiece had been given down as the price of their infidelity. further sums were to have been paid after the escape; and one warder admitted that he was to have £ more paid to him, and to be provided with a passage to australia. the vigilance of the newgate officials, assisted by the city police, completely frustrated this plot. a second was nevertheless set on foot, in which the plan of action was changed, and the freedom of the prisoners was to be obtained by means of a rescue from the dock during the trial. an increase of policemen on duty sufficed to prevent any attempt of this kind. nor were these two abortive efforts all that were planned. a year or two after, when the prisoners were undergoing their life sentences of penal servitude, much uneasiness was caused at one of the convict prisons by information that bribery on a large scale was again at work amongst the officials. but extra precautions and close supervision have so far proved effectual, and the prisoners are still in custody after a lapse of ten years. i propose to end at this point the detailed account of the more prominent criminal cases which lodged their perpetrators in newgate. the most recent affairs are still too fresh in the public mind to need more than a passing reference. few of the newgate notorieties of late years show any marked peculiarities; their crimes follow in the lines of others already found, and often more than once, in the calendars. violent passions too easily aroused prompted the frenchwoman marguerite dixblanc to murder her mistress, madame riel, in park lane, as courvoisier, the swiss, had been tempted to murder lord william russell. greed in the latter case was a secondary motive; it was the principal incentive with kate webster, that fierce and brutal female savage who took the life of her mistress at richmond. webster, it may be mentioned here, was one of the worst prisoners ever remembered in newgate--most violent in temper, and addicted to the most frightful language. webster's devices for disposing of the body of her victim will call to mind those of theodore gardelle, of good, and greenacre, and catherine hayes. greed in another form led the stauntons to make away with mrs. patrick staunton, murdering her with devilish cruelty by slow degrees. the judge, sir henry hawkins, in passing sentence characterized this as a crime more black and hideous than any in the criminal annals of the country. but it was scarcely worse than that of mrs. brownrigg, or that of the meteyards, both of whom did their helpless apprentices to death. it was to effect the rupture of an irksome tie that led henry wainwright to murder harriet lane deliberately and in cold blood. in this case the tie was unsanctified, but it was not more inconvenient than that which urged greenacre to a similar crime. in cold-blooded premeditation it rivalled that of the mannings. as in that case, the grave had been dug long in anticipation, and the chloride of lime purchased to destroy the corpse. henry wainwright's attempt to get rid of the body was ingenious, but not original, and the circumstances which led to detection were scarcely novel proofs of the old adage that murder will out. henry wainwright's impassioned denial of his crime, even after it had been brought fully home to him, has many parallels in the criminal records. his disclaimer, distinct and detailed on every point, was intended simply for effect. he might swear he was not the murderer, that he never fired a pistol in his life, and that, in spite of the verdict of the jury, "he left the dock with a calm and quiet conscience;" but there was no doubt of his guilt, as the lord chief justice told him, while expressing great regret at his rash assertion. wainwright's demeanour after sentence has been described in the last chapter. doubts were long entertained whether thomas wainwright, who was convicted as an accessory after the fact, had not really taken an active part in the murder. but a conversation overheard between the two brothers in newgate satisfactorily exonerated thomas wainwright. poisoning has still its victims. christina edmunds had resort to strychnia, the same lethal drug that palmer used; her object being first to dispose of the wife of a man for whom she had conceived a guilty passion, then to divert suspicion from herself by throwing it on a confectioner, whose sweetmeats she bought, tampered with, and returned to the shop. the trial of miss edmunds was transferred to the central criminal court under lord campbell's act, already referred to. she was found guilty. it will be remembered that she made a statement which led to the empanelling of a jury of matrons, who decided that there was no cause for an arrest of judgment. kate webster followed the same course; but these pleas of pregnancy are not common now-a-days. although sentence of death was passed on edmunds, it was commuted to penal servitude for life; but she eventually passed into broadmoor lunatic asylum, where she busies herself with water-colour drawing. the still more recent cases of poisoning which have occurred were not connected with newgate. the mysterious bravo case, that of dr. lamson, and that of kate dover unhappily show that society is more than ever at the mercy of the insidious and unscrupulous administration of poisonous drugs. a case reproducing many of the features of the 'flowery land' occurred twelve years later, when the crew of the 'lennie' mutinied, murdered the captain and mates, sparing the steward only on condition that he would navigate the ship to the mediterranean. the mutineers were of the same stamp as the crew of the 'flowery land'--foreigners, vindictive, reckless, and truculent ruffians, easily moved to murderous rage. the 'lennie's' men were all greeks, except one known as french peter, who was the ringleader, and who had long been an habitual criminal, a reputed murderer, and certainly an inmate more than once of a french _bagne_. conviction was obtained through the evidence of the steward and two of the least culpable of the crew. in newgate the 'lennie' mutineers were extremely well behaved. resolute, determined-looking men, their courage broke down in confinement. they paid close attention to the counsels of the archimandrite, and died quite penitent. a story is told of one of them, "big harry," the wildest and most cut-throat looking of the lot, which proves that he could be grateful for kindness, and was not all bad. he had steadfastly refused to eat meat on some religions scruples, and for the same reason would not touch soup. he was glad, therefore, to get an extra allowance of bread, and to show his gratitude to the warder who procured this privilege for him, he made him a present. it was his own handiwork--a bird pecking at a flower; the whole manufactured while in the condemned cell of the crumb of bread made into paste. the flower had berries also of bread fixed on stems made from the fibre drawn from the stuffing of his mattrass, and the bird's legs were a couple of teeth broken off the prisoner's comb. of the lesser criminals, forgers, thieves, swindlers, newgate continued to receive its full share up to the last. but there were few cases so remarkable as the great ones already recorded. mr. bamell oakley made a rich harvest for a time, and was said at the time of his trial to have obtained as much as £ , by false and fraudulent pretences. messrs. swindlehurst, saffery, and langley cleared a large profit by swindling the artisans' dwellings company; and madame rachel passed through newgate on her way to millbank convicted of obtaining jewellery under the false pretence of making silly women "beautiful for ever." the greatest _causes célèbre_, however, of recent times were the turf frauds by which the comtesse de goncourt was swindled out of large sums in sham sporting speculations. the conviction of the principals in this nefarious transaction, benson, the two kurrs, bale, and murray, led to strange revelations of dishonest practices amongst the detective police, and was followed by the arraignment and conviction in their turn of meiklejohn, druscovich, palmer, and froggatt. chapter xi newgate reformed. movement towards prison reform--pentonville 'model' prison built--extension of the movement--opposing views as to _silence_ and _separation_--widely different treatment of criminals in various prisons--mr. pearson's committee--his proposed system explained--attention again attracted to newgate--most of the old evils still rampant, and scarcely any enforcement of discipline--some attempt to exercise supervision, and minor improvements introduced--scheme of reconstruction by lord john russell found impracticable, and holloway selected for a new city prison--subsequent reconstruction of newgate on cellular principle--committee of house of lords inquire into whole subject of criminal treatment, and recommend extensive changes, with uniformity of system--prison act embodies most of these recommendations--finally, an act passed in transferring prisons to the government, and newgate closed. the time at length approached when a radical and complete change was to come over the old city gaol. it was impossible for newgate to escape for ever the influences pressing so strongly towards prison reform. elsewhere the spirit had been more or less active, although not uniformly or always to the same extent. there had been a pause in legislation, except of a permissive kind. the nd and rd victoria, cap. ( ) laid it down that individuals _might_ be confined separately and apart in single cells. by other acts local authorities were empowered to construct new gaols or hire accommodation in the district; but no steps had been taken in parliament to enforce a better system of discipline, or to insist upon the construction of prisons on the most approved plan. as regards the first, however, sir james graham, when home secretary in , had appointed a committee of prison inspectors, presided over by the under secretary of state, to draw up rules and dietaries, which were then recommended to and generally adopted by the visiting justices all over the kingdom. as regards the second, the government had set a good example, and in deciding upon the erection of pentonville prison had embarked on a considerable expenditure in order to provide a model prison for general imitation. the first stone of pentonville prison was laid on the th april, , by the marquis of normanby, then home secretary, and the prison, which contained five hundred and twenty cells, was occupied on the st december, . this building was a costly affair. the site was uneven, and had to be levelled; moreover, the gross expenditure was increased "partly from its being considered necessary, as it was a national prison, to make a great archway, and to make the character of it more imposing than if it had been situated in the country, and had been an ordinary prison."[ ] up to the st december, , with the additions made to that date, the total expenditure amounted to nearly £ , , or about £ per cell. on the other hand, it must be admitted that this was an experimental construction, and that too strict a limitation of outlay would have militated seriously against the usefulness of the building. nor must it be overlooked that this, the first model prison, although obtained at a considerable cost, became actually what its name implied. pentonville has really been the model on which all subsequent prison construction has been based. all prisons at home and abroad are but variations, of course with the added improvements following longer experience, of the pattern originated by the architectural genius of sir joshua jebb. the internal arrangements of the new model were carefully supervised by a body of distinguished men, among which were many peers, lord john russell, mr. shaw-lefevre, the speaker of the house of commons, sir benjamin brodie, major jebb, r.e., and the two prison inspectors, messrs. crawford and russell, with whose names the reader is already familiar. major, afterwards sir joshua jebb, was the moving spirit among these commissioners, and he is now generally recognized as the originator of modern prison architecture. the movement thus laudably initiated by the government soon spread to the provinces. some jurisdictions, greatly to their credit, strove at once to follow the lead of the central authority. within half-a-dozen years no less than fifty-four new prisons were built on the pentonville plan, others were in progress, and the total number of separate cells provided amounted to eleven thousand odd. this list included wakefield, leeds, kirkdale, manchester, birmingham, and dublin. liverpool was building a new prison with a thousand cells, the county of surrey one with seven hundred. the cost in each varied considerably, the general average being from £ to £ per cell. at pentonville the rate was higher, but there the expense had been increased by the site, the difficulty of access, and the admitted necessity of giving architectural importance to this the national model prison.[ ] other jurisdictions were less prompt to recognize their responsibilities, the city of london among the number, as i shall presently show at length. these were either satisfied with a makeshift, and modified existing buildings, without close regard to their suitability, or for a long time did nothing at all. among the latter were notably the counties of cheshire, lincolnshire, norfolk, suffolk, nottinghamshire, the east and north ridings of yorkshire. the south and west of england were also very laggard, and many years were still to elapse before the prisons in these parts were properly reconstituted. not less remarkable than this diverse interpretation of a manifest duty was the variety of views as regards the discipline to be introduced in these new prisons. the time was one when thoughtful people who concerned themselves closely with social questions were greatly exercised as to the best system of treating the inmates of a gaol. a new and still imperfectly understood science had arisen, the principles of which were debated by disputants of widely opposite opinions with an earnestness that sometimes bordered upon acrimony. one school were strongly in favour of the continuous separation of prisoners, the other supported the theory of labour in association, but under a stringent rule of silence, with isolation only at night. both systems came to us from the united states. the difference was really more in degree than in principle, and our modern practice has prudently tried to steer between the two extremes, accepting as the best system a judicious combination of both. but about the two sides were distinctly hostile, and the controversy ran high. high authorities were in favour of continuous separation. colonel jebb preferred it; messrs. crawford and whitworth russell were convinced that the complete isolation of criminals from one another was the true basis of a sound system of prison discipline. prison chaplains of experience and high repute, such as messrs. field, clay, kingsmill, burt, and osborne, also advocated it. it was claimed for it that it was more deterrent; that in districts where it was the rule, evil-doers especially dreaded coming under its irksome conditions. another argument was, that it afforded more hope of the reformation of criminals. the system of associated labour in silence had also its warm supporters, who maintained that under this system prisoners were more industrious and more healthy; that their condition was more natural, and approximated more nearly to that of daily life. better industrial results were obtained from it, and instruction in trades was easier, and prisoners were more likely to leave gaol with the means of earning an honest livelihood if so disposed. the opposing champions were not slow to find faults and flaws in the system they condemned. separation was injurious to health, mental or physical, said one side; men broke down when subjected to it for more than a certain period, and it was unsafe to fix this limit above twelve months, although some rash advocates were in favour of eighteen months, some indeed of two years. the other side retorted that the system of associated labour was most costly, so many officers being required to maintain the discipline of silence; moreover, it was nearly impossible to prevent communication and mutual contamination. it is scarcely necessary to follow the controversy further. i have only introduced the subject as showing how little as yet the state was impressed with the necessity for authoritative interference. the legislature was content to let local jurisdictions experimentalize for themselves; with the strange, anomalous result, that a thief or other criminal might be quite differently treated according as he was incarcerated on one side or another of a border line. this variety was often extended to all branches of prison economy. there was an absolute want of uniformity in dietaries; in some prisons it was too liberal, in others too low. the amount of exercise varied from one or two hours daily to half the working day. the cells inhabited by prisoners were of very varying dimensions; some were not sufficiently ventilated, others were warmed artificially, and were unwholesomely close. the use of gas or some other means of lighting might be adopted, but more often was dispensed with. in a great number of prisons no provision was made for the education of prisoners, in some others there was a sufficient staff of schoolmasters and instructors. the discipline also varied greatly, from the severely penal to the culpably lax. the greatest pains might be taken to secure isolation, the prisoners might be supervised and watched at every step, and made liable to punishment for a trifling breach of an irksome code of regulations, or they might herd together or communicate freely as in the old worst days. they might see each other when they liked, and converse _sotto voce_, or make signs; or the chances of recognizing or being recognized were reduced to a minimum by the use of a mask.[ ] there was no general rule of employment. hard labour was often not insisted upon in separate confinement; sometimes it embraced the tread-wheel or the newly-invented instruments known as cranks, which ground air. the alternative between labour or idleness, or the selection of the form of labour, were mere matters of chance, and decided according to the views of the local magistracy. they were approved of and employed at some prisons, at others objected to because they were unproductive, and because the machine was often so imperfect that the amount of effort could not be exactly regulated. opinions differed greatly with regard to the tread-wheel; some authorities advocated it as a very severe and irksome punishment, which was yet under full control, and might be made to work corn-mills or prove otherwise productive; other authorities as strongly condemned it as brutalizing, unequal in its operation, and altogether a "deplorable invention." this want of uniformity in prison discipline became ere long an acknowledged evil pressing for some remedy, and the question was once more taken up in the house of commons. in mr. charles pearson, m.p., moved for a committee to report upon the best means of securing some uniform system which should be "punitive, reformatory, and self-supporting;" but the session was far advanced, and the matter was relegated to the following year. in sir george grey brought forward a new motion to the same effect, which was promptly carried, with the additional instruction to the committee to suggest any improvements. the latter had reference more especially to a proposal emanating from mr. charles pearson himself. that gentleman had come to the conclusion that the ordinary and hackneyed methods of treatment were practically inefficacious, and that a new system of prison discipline should be introduced. his plan was to devote the whole labour of prisoners sentenced to any term between three months and four years to agriculture. district prisons were to be established for this purpose, each of which would be in the heart of a farm of a thousand acres. the prisoners were to cultivate the land and raise sufficient produce for their own support. mr. pearson backed up his recommendations by many sound arguments. field labour, he urged, and with reason, was a very suitable employment; healthful, easily learnt, and well adapted to the circumstances of unskilled labourers. such excellent returns might be counted upon, that a margin of profit would be left after the cost of the prisons had been defrayed. the scheme was no doubt fascinating, and in many respects feasible; but mr. pearson overlooked some points in which a more practical mind would have foreseen difficulty, and perhaps forecasted failure. in his proposal he dwelt much upon the humanizing effects of healthful open-air toil, anticipating the best results from a system which made earnings, and indeed release, dependent upon the amount of work done. that industry might thus be stimulated and encouraged was probable enough, and later experience has fully proved the advantage of a judicious system of gratuities for labour; but mr. pearson hardly considered the converse sufficiently, and omitted the fact that he might have to deal with that persistent idleness which is not an unknown characteristic of the criminal class. the hope of reward might do much, but no system of penal discipline is complete unless it can also count upon the fear of punishment. mr. pearson seems to have taken for granted that all prisoners would behave well in his district prisons. on that account he made no provision to insure safe custody, thinking perhaps that prisoners so well disposed would cheerfully remain in gaol of their own accord. but an open farm of a thousand acres would have offered abundant chances of escape, which some at least would have attempted, probably with success. the creation of an expensive staff for supervision, or the still more costly process of walling in the whole farm, would have greatly added to the charges of these establishments. i have lingered too long perhaps over mr. pearson's proposal, but some reference was indispensable to a scheme which marked the growth of public interest in prison affairs, and which was the germ of the new system since admirably developed in the convict prisons of this country. mr. pearson and the committee of have the more claim on our consideration, because, in the inquiry which followed, attention was again attracted to newgate. the condition of that prison in may be gathered from the pages of the report. not much had been done to remedy the old defects; radical improvement was generally considered impossible. the great evil, however, had been sensibly diminished. there was no longer, or at worst but rarely, and for short periods, the same overcrowding. this was obviated by the frequent sessions of the central criminal court, and the utilization of the two subsidiary prisons in giltspur street and southwark. the prison population of newgate was still subject to great fluctuations, but it seldom rose above two hundred and fifty or three hundred at the most crowded periods, or just before the sessional gaol delivery; and at its lowest it fell sometimes to fifty or sixty. these numbers would have still further decreased, and the gaol would have been almost empty, but for the misdemeanants who were still sent to newgate at times on long terms of imprisonment, and for the transports, whom the home office were often, as of old, slow to remove. the old wards, day rooms and sleeping rooms combined, of which the reader has already heard so much, now seldom contained more than ten or a dozen each. some sort of decorum was maintained among the occupants in the day-time. drinking and gaming, the indiscriminate visitation of friends, and the almost unlimited admission of extra food, these more glaring defects had disappeared. but reformation was only skin deep. below the surface many of the old evils still rankled. there was as yet no control over the prisoners after locking-up time; this occurred in summer at eight, but in the winter months it took place at dusk, and was often as early as four or five. the prisoners were still left to themselves till next morning's unlocking, and they spent some fourteen or fifteen hours in total darkness, and almost without check or control. captain williams, who was the inspector of prisons for the home district in succession to messrs. crawford and russell, stated in evidence that he was visiting newgate one night, when he heard a great disturbance in one of the day and sleeping rooms, and on entering it found the prisoners engaged in kicking bundles of wood from one end of the ward to the other. some attempt at supervision was exercised by the night watchman stationed on the leads, who might hear what went on inside. if any disturbance reached his ears, he reported the case to the governor, who next morning visited the ward in fault, and asked for the culprit. the enforcement of discipline depended upon the want of honour among thieves. unless the guilty prisoner was given up, the whole ward was punished, either by the exclusion of visitors or the deprivation of fire, sharp tests which generally broke down the fidelity of the inmates of the ward to one another. later on a more efficacious but still imperfect method of supervision was introduced. iron cages, which are still to be seen in newgate, were constructed on the landings, ensconced in which warders spent the night, on duty, and alert to watch the sleepers below, and check by remonstrance or threat of punishment all who broke the peace of the prison. these disciplinary improvements were, however, only slowly and gradually introduced. other changes affecting the condition and proper treatment of prisoners were not made until the inspector had urged and recommended them. thus the wards, which, as i have said, were left in complete darkness, were now to be lighted with gas; and after this most salutary addition, the personal superintendence of night officers, as already described, became possible. the rule became general as regards the prison dress; hitherto clothing had been issued only to such as were destitute or in rags, and all classes of prisoners, those for trial, and those sentenced for short terms or long, wore no distinguishing costume, although its use was admitted, not only for cleanliness, but as a badge of condition, and a security against escape. renewed recommendations to provide employment resulted in the provision of a certain amount of oakum for picking, and one or two men were allowed to mend clothes and make shoes. the rules made by the secretary of state were hung up in conspicuous parts of the prison; more officers were appointed, as the time of so many of those already on the staff was monopolized by attendance at the central criminal court. another custom which had led to disorder was abolished; prisoners who had been acquitted were not permitted to return to the prison to show their joy and receive the congratulations of their unfortunate fellows. the corporation seems to have introduced these salutary changes without hesitation. it was less prompt apparently in dealing with structural alterations and improvements. well-founded complaints had been made of the want of heating appliances in the gaol. the wards had open fires, but the separate cells were not warmed at all. a scheme for heating the whole prison with hot-water pipes, after the system now generally adopted elsewhere, was considered, and abandoned because of the expense. as to the entire reconstruction of newgate, nothing had been done as yet. this, with a scheme for limiting the gaol to untried prisoners, had been urgently recommended by lord john russell in . his letter to the corporation, under date th june, is an interesting document, and shows that even at that date the government contemplated the erection of a model prison. lord john russell, commenting upon the offer of the corporation to improve newgate, provided it was henceforth used only for untried prisoners, suggested that newgate should be entirely reconstructed, and the new building adopted as a model. the corporation had agreed to spend £ , on alterations, but £ , would suffice to reconstruct. lord john, with great fairness, admitted that the whole of this burthen could not be imposed upon the city, seeing that since the establishment of the central criminal court, newgate received prisoners for trial from several counties, and he was therefore prepared to submit to parliament a proposal that half the cost of reconstruction should be borne by public funds. he forwarded plans prepared by the inspectors of prisons, not for blind adoption, but as a guide. this plan was on the principle of cellular separation, a system, according to lord john russell, desirable in all prisons, "but in a metropolitan prison absolutely essential." the corporation in reply demurred rather to accepting strict separation as a rule, feeling that it approached too nearly to solitary confinement. the court was, however, prepared to consider lord john russell's proposal with regard to the cost of rebuilding; but as the plan was "confessedly experimental, for the benefit of the country generally, the amount for which the city should be responsible should be distinctly limited not to exceed a certain sum to be agreed upon." a proviso was also made that the magistrates should continue to exercise full control over the new gaol, "free from any other interference than that of the inspectors on the part of government." no doubt wiser counsels prevailed with lord john russell, and on a more mature consideration he realized that the limited area of the existing newgate site, and the costliness of enlarging it, forbade all idea of entirely reconstructing the gaol so as to constitute it a model prison. it would be far better to begin at the beginning, to select a sufficiently spacious piece of ground, and erect a prison which from foundations to roofs should be in conformity with the newest ideas. the preference given to the pentonville system destroyed all hopes of a complete reformation of newgate. but the condition of the great city gaol was evidently considered a reproach by the city authorities, and a year after the opening of the new "model" at pentonville, a serious effort was made to reconstruct newgate. in the gaol committee brought forward a definite proposal to purchase ground in the immediate vicinity for the erection of a new gaol. this gaol was nominally to replace the giltspur street compter, the site of which was to be sold to christ's hospital, but the intention was of course to embody and absorb old newgate in the new construction. the proposal made was to purchase some fifty thousand square feet between newgate, warwick lane, and the sessions house, "the situation having been proved by long experience to be salubrious." but when this suggestion was brought before the court of aldermen, various amendments were proposed. it was urged that the area selected for purchase must be excessively costly to acquire, and still quite inadequate for the city needs. the home secretary had laid it down that at least five acres would be indispensable, and such an area it was impossible to obtain within the limits of the city. now for the first time the tuffnell estate in holloway was mentioned. the corporation owned lands there covering from nineteen to twenty acres. why not move the city prison bodily into this more rural spot, with its purer air and greater breathing space? eventually holloway was decided upon as a site for the new city prison. the necessary preliminaries took some time, but the contracts for the new building were completed in , when the works were commenced. the prison was to contain four hundred and four prisoners, and the estimated expenditure was £ , . it was to accommodate only the convicted prisoners sentenced to terms short of penal servitude, and after its completion the uses of newgate were narrowed almost entirely to those of a prison of detention. it was intended as far as possible that, except awaiting trial, no prisoner should find himself relegated to newgate. this principle became more and more generally the rule, although it has never been punctiliously observed. now and again misdemeanants have found their way into newgate, and within the last few years one offender against the privileges of the house of commons. with the reduction of numbers to be accommodated, there was ample space in newgate for its reconstruction on the most approved modern lines. in the erection of a wing or large block of cells was commenced within the original walls of the prison, and upon the north or male side. this block contained one hundred and thirty cells, embracing every modern improvement; it also contained eleven reception cells, six punishment cells, and a couple of cells for condemned criminals. this block was completed in , after which the hitherto unavoidable and long-continued promiscuous association of prisoners came to an end. in a similar work was undertaken to provide separate cellular accommodation for the female inmates of newgate, and by the following year forty-seven new cells had been built on the most approved plan. during this reconstruction the female prisoners were lodged in holloway, and when it was completed, both sides of the prison were brought into harmony with modern ideas. the old buildings were entirely disused, and the whole of the inmates of newgate were kept constantly in separate confinement. with the last re-edification of newgate, a work executed some seven centuries after the first stone of the old gaol was laid, the architectural records of the prison end. nothing much was done at newgate in the way of building, outside or in, after . the act for private executions led to the erection of the gallows shed in the exercising yard, and at the flank of the passage from the condemned cells. the first "glass house," or room in which prisoners could talk in private with their attorneys, but yet be seen by the warder on the watch, had been constructed, and others were subsequently added. but no structural alterations were made from the date first quoted until the time of closing the prison in . but in the interval very comprehensive and, i think it must be admitted, salutary changes were successively introduced into the management of prisons. newgate naturally shared in any advantages due to these reforms. i propose, therefore, to refer to them in the concluding pages of this work, and thus bring the history of prison discipline down to our own times. the last inquiry into the condition and management of our gaols and houses of correction was that made by the lords' committee in . the inquiry was most searching and complete, and the committee spoke plainly in its report. it animadverted strongly on "the many and wide differences as regards construction, labour, diet, and general discipline" which existed in the various prisons, "leading to an inequality, uncertainty, and inefficiency of punishment productive of the most prejudicial results." the varieties in construction were still very marked. in many prisons the prisoners were still associated, and, from the want of a sufficient number of cells, the principle of separation was still greatly neglected. yet this principle, as the committee pointed out, "must now be accepted as the foundation of prison discipline," while its rigid maintenance was in its opinion vital to the efficiency of the gaols. even where cells had been built they were frequently below the standard size, and were therefore not certified for occupation as was required by law. great numbers were not lighted at night, and were without means by which their inmates could communicate, in case of urgent necessity, with their keepers. still greater were the differences with regard to employment. the various authorities held widely different opinions as to what constituted hard labour. here the tread-wheel was in use, there cellular cranks, or "hard-labour machines." both, however, varied greatly in mechanism and in the amount of energy they called forth, while the former was intended for the congregate labour of a number, and the latter, as its name implies, imposed continuous solitary toil. at other prisons "shot-drill," the lifting and carrying of heavy round shot, was the favourite method of inflicting penal labour. with these differences were others as opposed concerning industrial occupation. the gaol authorities often gave the highest, possibly undue, importance to the value of remunerative employment, and sought to make profitable returns from prisoners' labour the test of prison efficiency. in this view the committee could not coincide, and it was decidedly of opinion that in all short sentences the hard labour of the tread-wheel, crank, and so forth should be the invariable rule. in dietaries, again, the same wide diversity of practice obtained. the efforts made by sir james graham years before to introduce uniformity in this particular had failed of effect. the secretary of state's suggested scale of diet had seldom been closely followed. in some places the dietary was too full, in others too meagre. its constituents were not of the most suitable character. more animal food was given than was necessary. vegetables, especially the potato, that most valuable anti-scorbutic, was too often omitted. in a word, the value of diet as a part of penal discipline was still insufficiently recognized. the prisons were still far from inflicting the three punishments, hard labour, hard fare, and a hard bed, which sir joshua jebb told the committee he considered the proper elements of penal discipline. it is interesting to note here that the committee of fully endorsed sir joshua's recommendations as regards a "hard bed," and recommended that "during short sentences, or the earlier stages of a long confinement, the prisoners should be made to dispense with the use of a mattress, and should sleep on planks." this suggestion was adopted in the act of , which followed the committee's report, and of which more directly. clause , schedule i. of that act authorized the use of plank beds, which were adopted in many prisons. they are now the universal rule, introduced, as was erroneously supposed, by the prison commissioners appointed under the prison act of . their origin it will be seen dates back much further than that. beds might well be made hard and their use strictly limited. according to this committee of , beds in the smaller and most carelessly conducted prisons formed a large element in the life of a prisoner. in one gaol fifteen hours were spent in bed out of the twenty-four. this was in keeping with other grave defects and omissions. the minor borough prisons were the worst blot on the still dark and imperfect system. they were very numerous, very imperfect in construction and management, and they were very little required. in them, according to the committee, the old objectionable practices were still in full force. there was unrestrained association of untried and convicted, juvenile with adult prisoners, vagrants, misdemeanants, felons. there were dormitories without light, control, or regulation at night, which warders, dreading assault, were afraid to enter after dark, even to check rioting and disturbance. prisoners still slept two in a bed. in one prison the bedsteads had been removed lest the prisoners should break them up and convert them into weapons of offence. the prison buildings were in many places out of repair; other houses often overlooked them. a single officer was the only custodian and disciplinary authority in the gaol. complete idleness was tolerated; there was neither penal labour nor light employment. the prisoners inter-communicated freely, and exercised the most injurious, corrupting influences upon one another. the total want of administration was very marked, but in one prison it was such that the prisoners' food was supplied daily from the neighbouring inn, and the innkeeper's bill constituted the only accounts kept. the committee might well suggest the abolition of these gaols, or their amalgamation with the larger county establishments in their immediate neighbourhood. some idea of the comparative uselessness of these small borough prisons was conveyed by some figures quoted by the committee. in there were in all one hundred and ninety-three gaols in england and wales; of these, sixty-three gave admittance during the entire year to less than twenty-five prisoners; twenty-two others received between eleven and twenty-five; fourteen received less than eleven and more than six; while twenty-seven received less than six prisoners, and were in some instances absolutely tenantless. the result of the recommendation of the committee of was the prison act of , the penultimate of such enactments, many of the provisions of which still remain in force. the main object of this act was to compass that uniformity in discipline and treatment generally which had long been admitted as indispensable, and had never as yet been properly obtained. the legislature was beginning to overcome its disinclination to interfere actively or authoritatively with the local jurisdictions, although still very leniently disposed. however, it now laid down in plain language and with precise details the requirements of a good gaol system. the separation of prisoners in cells duly certified by the inspectors was insisted upon, also their constant employment in labour appropriate to their condition. hard labour of the first and second class was carefully defined. the former, which consisted principally of the tread-wheel, cranks, capstans, shot-drill, was to be the rule for all convicted prisoners throughout the early stages of their detention; while the latter, which included various forms of industrial employment, was the boon to which willing industry extending over a long period established a certain claim. the infliction of punishment more or less uniform was thus aimed at. on the other hand, new and careful regulations were framed to secure the moral and material well-being of the inmates of the gaols. the law made it imperative that every prison should have a prison chapel, and that daily and sunday services should be held. the chaplain's duties were enlarged, and the principle of toleration accepted to the extent of securing to all prisoners the ministrations of ministers of their own form of belief. steps were taken to provide the illiterate with secular instruction. no less close was the care as regards preservation of health. stringent rules were prescribed for the prison surgeons; every prison was ordered to keep up an infirmary, and the medical supervision was to be strict and continuous. dietaries were drawn up for adoption on the recommendation of a committee of experts. baths were provided, ablutions ordered, and all appliances to insure personal cleanliness. the administration of good government was to be watched over by the local magistracy, certain of whom, styled visiting justices, were elected to inspect the prisons frequently, to examine the prisoners, hear complaints, and check abuses. under them the governor or gaoler was held strictly responsible. the books and journals he was to keep were minutely specified, and his constant presence in or near the gaol was insisted upon. his disciplinary powers were defined by the act, and his duties, both in [illustration: _interior of chapel ( )._] controlling his subordinates and in protecting the prisoners from petty tyranny and oppression, every one of whom he was to see once every twenty-four hours. but discipline was to be maintained if necessary by punishment, while decency and good order were to be insured by the strict prohibition of gambling and drunkenness. the latter was rendered nearly impossible by the penalties imposed on persons bringing spirituous liquors into the gaol. the old custom, so fruitful of the worst evils, of keeping a tap inside the prison was made illegal. so was the employment of prisoners in any position of trust or authority; they were not to be turnkeys or assistant turnkeys, neither wardsman nor yardsman, overseer, monitor, or schoolmaster, nor to be engaged in the service of any officer of the prison. the act of also encouraged and empowered the local authorities to "alter, enlarge, or rebuild" their prisons. they might raise funds for this purpose, provided a certificate for the necessity for the new works was given, either by the recorder, chairman of quarter sessions, or even by a couple of justices. every facility was promised. the sanction of the secretary of state would not be withheld if plans and estimates were duly submitted, and they met with the approval of his professional adviser, the surveyor-general of prisons. the funds necessary would be advanced by the public works loan commissioners, and the interest might be charged against the county or borough rates. nor were these the only inducements offered. where local authorities were indisposed to set their prisons in order, or hesitated to embark upon any considerable expenditure to alter or rebuild, they were at liberty to hire suitable cell accommodation from any neighbours who might have it to spare; the only proviso, that no such contract was valid between one jurisdiction and another unless the secretary of state was satisfied that the prison it was intended to use came up in all respects to modern requirements. but the act was not limited to permissive legislation. its provisions and enactments were backed up by certain penalties. the secretary of state was empowered to deal rather summarily with "inadequate" prisons, in other words, with those in which there was no separation, no proper enforcement of hard labour, no chapel, infirmary, and so forth. he could in the first place withhold the government grant in aid of prison funds by refusing the certificate to the treasury upon which the allowance was paid. this he might do on the representation of the inspector of prisons, who was bound to report any deficiencies and abuses he might find at his periodical visits. the secretary of state might go further. where the local authority had neglected to comply with the provisions of the act for four consecutive years, he could close the "inadequate" prison, by declaring it unfit for the reception of prisoners. his order would at the same time specify some neighbouring and more satisfactory prison which the local authority would be compelled to utilize instead, and with the concurrence of the other authority, and on payment. a few provisos governed these rather extensive powers. it was necessary, for instance, to give due notice when the government grant was to be withdrawn, and with the warning a copy of the particular defects and allegations was to be sent to the local authority. the latter too was to be laid before the house of commons. in the same way, six months' notice was required in cases where the closing of a prison was contemplated; but if these conditions were observed, the secretary of state could deal sharply enough with the defaulting jurisdictions. yet the law was seldom if ever enforced. it was practically inoperative as regards the penalties for neglect. it was no doubt as irksome and inconvenient to the secretary of state to avail himself of his powers, as it was difficult to bring home the derelictions of duties and evasion of the acts. too much was left to the inspectors. it was nearly impossible for them to exercise a very close supervision over the whole of the prisons of the country. there were only two of them, and they could not visit each prison more than once in each year, sometimes not oftener than once in eighteen months. the task imposed upon them, tending as it did to the imposition of a fine upon the local authorities, was not a pleasant one, and it is not strange if they did not very frequently hand up the offenders to the reproof and correction of the secretary of state. as the almost inevitable consequence, while the more glaring defects in prison management disappeared, matters went on after the act much the same as they had done before. districts differed greatly in the attention they paid to prison affairs. in one part the most praiseworthy activity prevailed, in another there was half-heartedness, even apathy and an almost complete contempt for the provisions of the act. as the years passed, great want of uniformity continued to prevail throughout the prisons of the united kingdom. the whole question assumed sufficient importance to become a part of the government programme when lord beaconsfield took office in . the home secretary in that administration, mr. (now sir richard) cross, having applied himself vigorously to the task of reorganizing the whole system, became convinced that no complete reform could be accomplished so long as the prisons were left under the jurisdiction of the local authorities. the prisons bill of contemplated the transfer of the prisons to government. this bill, reintroduced in , became law that year, after which the whole of the prisons, including newgate, passed under the more direct control of the state. since then a strong central authority has laboured steadfastly to compass concentration, to close useless prisons, and to insure that uniformity of system which all thoughtful persons had long admitted to be of paramount importance in the administration of prisons. three years after the advent of the prison commissioners, it was decided that newgate was an excessively costly and redundant establishment. it was only filled at the periods when the sessions of the central criminal court were in progress; at others an expensive staff was maintained with little or nothing to do. at a short distance stood another prison of detention, that of clerkenwell, with spare accommodation sufficient to receive all prisoners who were then committed to newgate. these arguments were unanswerable. accordingly, it was ordered by sir william harcourt, the present secretary of state, that newgate should cease to be used as a regular prison, and it is now, except during sessions or when the gallows is in requisition, practically and for ever closed. [illustration] index. abductions, account of several daring, i. - ; ii. - ; captain clifford, of mrs. synderfin, a rich widow, i. ; swainson, a dane, of miss rawlins, an heiress, i. ; captain campbell (brother of the earl of argyle), of miss wharton, an heiress, i. ; count konigsmark, of lady ogle, i. - ; the brothers edward gibbon wakefield and william wakefield, of miss turner, an heiress, ii. - . abershaw, jerry, execution of, i. . agar, concerned in the gold robbery on the south-eastern railway, ii. - . akerman, mr., keeper of newgate, i. , , ; wilkes's letter to, ; his instructions as to gaol fees, ; his account of the ravages of the gaol fever, ; brave and judicious conduct of, at a fire in newgate, , ; boswell and johnson on his humanity to the prisoners, , ; the rev. mr. hackman and dr. dodd on, and _n._; his conduct during the attack on newgate by the lord george gordon rioters, . alexander, keeper of newgate in mary's time, type of a brutal gaoler, i. - . allen, cardinal john, intercepted letter from, i. . amusements, brutality of popular, ii. . andrews, john, mayor of sudbury, committed to newgate for imprisoning a star chamber messenger, i. . angelini, edmund, an italian, offers himself to be executed in the stead of fauntleroy, ii. . articles, the six, of henry viii., persecutions for infringement of, i. , _et seq._ ascham, master sheriff, humanity of, i. . ashley, transported for robbing clubs of which he was a member, ii. . askew, anne, persecution and burning of, i. - . audeley, lord, lord chancellor, i. . ayliffe, john, execution of, i. . 'bad money,' paid for admission to newgate, explanation of the phrase, ii. . bailey, rev. w., ll.d., transported for life for forging a promissory note, ii. . bakers in old london, punishment of, for adulterating bread and giving light weight, i. , ; case of one john brid for stealing dough, _n._ baldock, robert de, chancellor to edward ii., death of, in newgate, i. . bambridge, warden of the fleet prison, charges against, ii. . barber, william henry, a solicitor, transported for forging wills, ii. - . baretti, joseph, tried for manslaughter and acquitted, i. - . barlow, mr., of burton hall, attempt of, to escape from newgate, i. . barrett, michael, executed for complicity in the clerkenwell explosion, ii. ; the last person publicly executed at newgate, . barrington, george, the notorious pickpocket, career of, ii. - . barthelemy, emanuel, executed for murder, ii. . bastwick, release of, from prison, i. ; in the pillory, . bateman, a systematic forger, ii. - . bayfield, richard, a relapsed heretic, case of, i. . bean, j. w., attempts the life of the queen, ii. , . beaufort, duke of, robbed of his "george," ii. . beckford, lord mayor, i. . belchier, william, highwayman, capture of, i. . bell, dr., his inflammatory sermon rouses the citizens against foreign workmen, i. ; is committed to the tower, . bellamont, lord, and the suppression of piracy, i. - . bellayse, sir henry, in newgate, i. . bellingham, execution of, for murder, ii. . bennet, hon. h. g., letter to common council on state of newgate, i. ; on the condition of convicts in newgate, ii. , , ; becomes a member of prison discipline society, . bernardi, major, forty years in newgate, i. ; account of his career, - . bidwells, the, forgers of acceptances on the bank of england, ii. - . bigamists, male and female, i. . bilbows, _or_ bilboes, room in newgate, i. ; origin of the name, _n._ bird, mr. edward, executed for murder, i. . bishop, executed for "burking" many victims, and selling their bodies, ii. - . bishops, list of, who owned prisons, i. . 'black dogge of newgate,' the, a th-century pamphlet, i. . blackstone on the illegality of ironing prisoners, i. . boiling alive, punishment of, i. , . bolair, mr. a., a jacobite, in newgate, i. , . bolland, james, bill forger, ii. . bonner, bishop, his persecutions of protestants, i. , _et seq._ boroski, one of the murderers of mr. thynne, i. . borough compter, state of, ii. ; foulness and overcrowding in, , . borough prisons the worst in the kingdom, ii. , , , , - . boswell, james, on mr. akerman, the keeper of newgate, i. , . bousfield, william, shocking scene at the execution of, ii. . bow street runners, evidence of townsend, one of the, as to the state of crime, ii. ; number, duties, and remuneration of, . branding, the punishment of, i. . branks, the punishment of the, i. . brid, john, case of, for stealing dough, i. _n._ bristol gaol, shocking state of, ii. - . bromley, sir t., lord chancellor, intercedes for crowder, i. . brown, mr., gaoler of newgate, on the improvements introduced, ii. . brownrigg, mrs. elizabeth, murderess, i. - . brunt, one of the cato street conspirators, ii. . buckhurst, lord, in newgate, i. . bucquinte, andrew, a leader of city thieves, i. . budden, george, escape of, from newgate, i. . bullion, robbery of, at the custom house, in , ii. - ; of , sovereigns at mile end, ; the great robbery of, on the south-eastern railway, - . buncher, forger of bank-notes, ii. - . burdett, sir francis, sent to the tower, ii. , . burgess, a clerk in the bank of england, transported for life for defrauding it of £ , ii. - . burgess, a guard, concerned in the gold robbery on the south-eastern railway, ii. - . burglaries--at lambeth palace, ii. ; at grimaldi and johnson's in the strand, ; at the custom house, - ; at a bonded warehouse, - ; at a bank, ; and at royal palaces, . burke, edmund, his power of creating a capital felony, ii. . burke and hare, reference to the murders committed by, ii. . burnett, forger of bank-notes, ii. - . burning of newgate by the gordon rioters, i. - . burning to death, the last instance of, in england, ii. , . burnworth, edward, pressed to death, i. ; his projected plan of escape, . burton, release of, from prison, i. . bury st. edmunds gaol a model prison, ii. , . bute, lord, and his influence over the princess of wales, i. . butler, william, highwayman, i. . buxton, mr., his philanthropic labours on behalf of prisoners, ii. , _et seq._; exonerates gaolers from blame, _n._; on moral deterioration, . cagliostro, count, and lord george gordon, i. . calcraft, objections to his mode of hanging, ii. ; his antecedents and habits, ; how he became hangman, his character, remuneration, &c., - . calendar, gaol, i. - . calendars, newgate. see _newgate calendars_. calverly, w., pressed to death, i. . campbell, captain, his abduction of miss wharton, i. . campbell, sir james, lord mayor, i. . cannon, chimney-sweep, transported for life for a murderous attack on a police constable, ii. , . capital punishments, public feeling against, ii. ; abolition of, in a number of cases formerly so visited, ; as a consequence the number of death sentences in england falls from in to in , . cardan, jerome, reference to his 'commentaries,' i. _n._ cashman, one of the spafield rioters, conduct after condemnation, ii. and _n._ cato street conspiracy, account of, ii. ; antecedents of thistlewood, the leader, ; the government acquainted with the plot by the informer edwards, ; plan of the conspirators, ; their capture, ; trial, ; and execution, , . cellar, the, an underground tavern in newgate, i. . chandler, one of the wagner and bateman gang of forgers, ii. . chapel yard, newgate, description of, ii. . charterhouse, ten friars of the, sent to newgate, i. . charteris, colonel francis, account of his career, i. - . chesterfield gaol, state of, i. . 'chronicle of tyburn,' the, i. . clarke, john, executed for clipping, ii. . clarke, mrs. mary ann, her career as trafficker in the sale of places, ii. ; and her connection with the duke of york and colonel wardle, , . clarke, sir simon, highwayman, i. . clergy, benefit of, abuse of, i. . clerkenwell new prison, shocking state of, ii. . clifford, captain, his abduction of mrs. synderfin, i. . clipping and coining in the th century, i. - ; number and profits of the clippers and coiners, - ; in the th century, ii. ; two early clippers--john clarke, ; and william guest, - . clubs, robbery of plate from, by a member, ii. . cobbett, william, imprisoned for libel, ii. . coining in the th century, i. - ; in the th century, ii. ; enormous extent to which it was carried, ; number of private mints and persons employed, , ; five kinds of silver money, ; two kinds of copper, ; number of persons prosecuted in a given period, ; and nature of the punishment inflicted, ; account of cummings, the resurrectionist and coiner, - . coke, sir edward, on the derivation of the title 'pie powder' given to a certain court, i. _n._ cokke, william, punishment of, for endeavouring to enhance the price of wheat in old london, i. . coleman, robert, case of, committed to newgate, i. . collins, john, attempts the life of william iv., ii. . commons, house of, prosecutions for libels on the, ii. , . compters, the, of ludgate, giltspur street, and the borough, ii. . condemned, treatment and conduct of the, in newgate, i. ; ii. - , - ; treatment of the, from sentence to execution, . _et seq._; gibbon wakefield on, - ; the recorder's report regarding, ; the ordinary censured for his sermon to, ; gibbon wakefield's account of the sunday service when the condemned sermon was preached, - ; bodies of the, given for dissection, , ; demeanour of the, - . condemned cell in newgate, i. . coney-catching, greene's description of, i. - . coo, thomas, case of, over twenty years a prisoner in newgate, i. . cope, mr., governor of newgate, incompetency of, ii. , , , , . corporation, rights and privileges of the, i. - ; dispute between the, and the sheriffs as to the right to appoint the keeper of newgate, - ; and with the lords of the council on the same subject, , ; high-handed dealing of the, with certain citizens, , ; commit an alderman to newgate for refusing to be sworn, ; order of the, that all prisoners acquitted at the old bailey should be discharged without fees, ; appoint a committee to inquire into the condition of newgate, ii. ; they propose certain stringent reforms in it, - . cottington, jack, a famous highwayman, account of, i. - . cotton, mr., ordinary of newgate, his discouragements and censure, ii. , ; is censured for the tone of his condemned sermon before fauntleroy, . courvoisier, his execution, ii. ; scenes at, ; crowded and fashionable congregation to hear his condemned sermon, ; and enormous crowd to see him hanged, ; discovery of the murder, ; apprehension, trial, confession, and conviction, - . cowday, walter, keeper of newgate, charges against, i. . crabbe's account of the burning of newgate, i. - . 'craftsman,' prosecution of the, for libel, ii. . crawford, mr., inspector of prisons, i. . crawford, mr. william, one of the prison inspectors, appointed--his antecedents, ii. ; his labours, , _et seq._ crime, summary of state of, in first half of th century, i. , _et seq._; cause of the prevalence of, ; drunkenness, ; gaming, , _et seq._; efforts made by the benevolent for the repression of, , ; various typical cases of crime, , _et seq._ see _crimes and criminals_. crimes and criminals, ii. - ; state of crime at the opening of the present newgate, - ; evidence of mr. townsend, a bow street runner, on the subject, , ; ruthless nature of the penal code, - ; efforts of sir samuel romilly to ameliorate it, ; their ultimate success, ; forgery a capital crime, ; effects of this on the general public, ; the bank of england the most implacable prosecutor of forgers, ; strong feeling against these prosecutions, ; early forgers, - ; clipping a capital crime, ; two early clippers, - ; coining, ; enormous extent to which it was carried, ; five kinds of silver money and two of copper, , ; number of persons prosecuted in a given time, and nature of their punishment, ; little security for life or property, ; the watchmen, their character, duties, and remuneration, ; bow street runners, their number, duties, and remuneration, ; rewards offered for the conviction of criminals, and _n._; injurious effect of this on the police, ; impunity with which robberies were committed, ; and attacks in the public streets, , ; the doings of renwick williams, "the monster," ; robbing at levees, ; career of george barrington, - ; prevalence of highway robbery, ; suppressed in the neighbourhood of the metropolis by the horse patrol, , ; transportation, ; increase of swindlers and sharpers, ; doings of some of the principal, - ; general increase in juvenile depravity, - ; dens of young thieves, ; moral contamination of the prison, ; instances of juvenile precocity in crime, , ; offering a girl for sale, , ; resurrection men and their doings, ; brutality of popular amusements, ; prize-fighting and its aristocratic patrons, , ; the perils of free speech, severity of the press laws, - ; frauds on the exchequer, - ; decoying seamen from the navy, , ; statistics as to number of criminals in newgate, - ; diminution in certain kinds of crime, ; fewer street robberies, ; corresponding increase in other crimes, ; fraud, forgeries, jewel and bullion robberies, and great commercial frauds, ; offences against the person confined to murder and manslaughter, ; another form of crime--attempts against the sovereign, ; other forms of treason--the cato street conspiracy, ; its hero (thistlewood), inception, frustration, and punishment, - ; attempts on the life of george iii, ; margaret nicholson, ; and hatfield, ; on william iv., ; john collins, ; and on the queen, - ; oxford, - ; francis, - ; bean, ; pate, ; increase in the crime of forgery, ; fauntleroy, - ; captain montgomery, , ; the quaker, joseph hunton, ; richard gilford, ; maynard, the last who suffered death for forgery, ; the capital punishment for forgery abolished, ; robberies--the burglary at lambeth palace, ; at grimaldi and johnson's in the strand (£ worth of watches), ; attempt of howard to rob mr. mullay in a house in red lion square, , ; attempt to rob mr. gee, a solicitor, in a house in york street, commercial road, - ; career of ikey solomons, a notorious fence, or receiver, - ; bullion robbery from the custom house in , , ; robbery of diamonds, - ; burglaries, ; gold-dust robbery, ; discovery of the perpetrators, who had cheated each other, , ; murders--of mr. weare by thurtell, hunt, and probert, , ; of the italian boy and others by bishop and williams, - ; of mrs. brown by greenacre, - ; increase in crimes of fraud, ; beaumont smith's false exchequer bills, ; wilful shipwreck of heavily-insured ships, ; the case of the wallaces and the 'dryad,' - ; another clerical forger--rev. w. bailey, ; forgery of wills by w. h. barber, a solicitor, and joshua fletcher, a surgeon, - ; bank of england defrauded of £ by one of its clerks named burgess, - ; burglaries, ; robbery at lord fitzgerald's, in belgrave square, ; of plate from clubs by a member, ; of diamonds by a sea captain, ; murderers--courvoisier, - ; good, - ; hocker, - ; an epidemic of murders, ; the mannings, - ; marley, - ; cannon, for a murderous attack on a police constable, , ; mobbs ("general haynau"), for murder, ; and barthelemy for murder, ; gigantic frauds, ; embezzlement of £ , by w. watts, a clerk in the globe assurance company, - ; commits suicide in newgate, ; frauds of r. f. pries, corn merchant, with bills of lading, ; of j. w. cole, maltby and co., and davidson and gordon with dock warrants, - ; of messrs. strahan, paul, and bates with securities deposited with them, - ; of robson with false certificates on the crystal palace company, - ; of leopold redpath with fictitious stock on the great northern railway, - ; the great gold robbery on the south-eastern railway, - ; the forgeries of j. t. saward and his confederates, - ; murderers and their demeanour after condemnation, - ; poisoning and poisoners, , _et seq._; palmer, - ; dove, ; dr. smethurst, - ; catherine wilson, - ; piracy and murder--the 'flowery land' pirates, - ; müller, - ; sattler , ; wholesale forgeries of wagner and bateman, and their confederates, - ; and burnett, buncher, and griffiths, - ; cummings, the resurrectionist and coiner, - ; will forgeries of william roupell, - ; diamond robbery by the tarpeys, ; the wholesale forgery of acceptances by the bidwells, macdonell, and noyes, - ; some of the most recent cases of murder, - ; the 'lennie' mutineers, , ; a few smaller celebrities, . criminal literature, i. - ; cause of the demand for, . criminal side of newgate, description of, ii. , _et seq._ crouches, the, punished for offering their niece for sale, ii. . chowder, keeper of newgate in , inquiry into the conduct of, i. . crowe, christopher, case of, a prisoner in newgate, i. . cruden, alexander, his labours in newgate, ii. . cucking-stool, the, . cummings, resurrectionist and coiner, ii. - . cutpurses, mode of training, in old london, i. ; cutpurses and coney-catchers, - . dagoe, hannah, dreadful scene at the execution of, i. . dalley, daniel, petition on behalf of, and his passengers, i. . damiens, the doom of, i. . dance, george, architect of the present newgate, i. , . dangerfield, the informer, his crime and punishment, i. . 'darvell gatheren,' a wooden image worshipped by the welsh, i. . davidson, mr. a., imprisoned for frauds on the exchequer, ii. , ; occupies a room in the keeper's house at a rent of thirty guineas a week, . davidson, one of the cato street conspirators, ii. . davis, vincent, murderer, i. . day, alexander, his career as swindler, ii. . debtors' hall, newgate, i. . debtors, state of, in early times, i. ; in , ; they are transferred from ludgate to newgate, ; thence back to ludgate, ; condition of, in newgate in time of henry viii., , ; accommodation for, in newgate, - , - ; they are almost starved to death, ; the male debtors' side of newgate, ii. ; the female debtors' side, ; statistics of the number of writs issued and arrests made for debt in , ; amounts owing, and expenses incurred in recovering, , ; courts for the recovery of debts, ; injustice of the city courts of requests, - ; a prisoner for a penny, ; condition of debtors in the king's bench prison, - ; in the fleet, - ; in the marshalsea, - ; in the compters of ludgate, giltspur street, and the borough, , ; state of, in newgate, ; garnish and other extortionate fees exacted from, - ; wretched condition of, for food, bedding, and fire, , ; uncleanness and overcrowding amongst, ; how order was preserved, ; white cross street prison is erected to relieve newgate, . decapitation, the punishment of, i. . defoe in the pillory, i. . dennis, john, the hangman, heads the lord george gordon rioters, i. . diamonds, robbery of, in , ii. - ; by a sea captain, ; by the tarpeys, . dignities, punishment for speaking evil of, i. . dignum, david james, his career as swindler, ii. . dissection, bodies of murderers given for, ii. , ; abolition of the practice, , . dodd, dr., career of, ii. ; forges a bond for £ , ; extraordinary efforts made to save him, ; lord mansfield's opposition, _n._; his execution, . drunkenness, prevalence of, a great cause of crime, i. . drury, sir robert, lord mayor, i. . 'dryad,' case of the wilful shipwreck of the, for the heavy insurance, ii. - . dublin "engine of death," or gallows, description of, ii. . dundonald, lord, sentenced to the pillory, i. . duval, claude, the highwayman, account of, i. - . edmonson, mary, story of the execution of, ii. - . edmunds, christina, the poisoner, ii. . edward i., great penal statute of, i. . edward iv., his great charter to the citizens of old london, i. . edward vi., nature of the prisoners in his reign, i. - . edwards, conviction of, for attempt to rob mr. gee, a solicitor, ii. - . edwards, the informer in the cato street conspiracy, ii. . egremond, lord, in newgate, i. . elder, a horse-dealer, assists in defrauding the bank of england, ii. - . elizabeth, queen, religious and political prisoners in her reign, i. - . ellwood, mr., his description of jack ketch's kitchen, newgate, i. _n._ ely gaol, barbarous mode of securing prisoners in, i. . "england, young," account of the imaginary association so called, ii. - . erskine. mr., defends lord george gordon, i. . escapes from newgate, i. - ; early instances of, - ; methods of, , _et seq._; sir nicholas poyntz's, ; edward lunsford's, , ; jack sheppard's, - ; daniel malden's, - ; george flint's, ; attempt of scott, a highwayman, ; jacobite escapes, , _et seq._; attempt of mr. barlow of burton hall, ; mr. forster's, ; brigadier macintosh's and others, ; george budden's, ; mr. ratcliffe's, - ; attempt of c. t. white, ; of john williams, ; daring and successful escape of h. williams, - ; various successful and unsuccessful attempts at, - ; last attempt at, . "evil may-day" rising of the city prentices against foreign workmen, i. - . exchequer, frauds on the, ii. - ; by mr. a. davidson, ; and mr. v. jones, . exchequer bills, altering and counterfeiting of, i. . executioners, list of early, i. ; their bungling performances, . see _hangmen_. executions, early public, i. - ; first at tyburn, ; then at newgate, . 'executions, the history of,' i. . executions, i. - ; early forms of punishment, , _et seq._; branding, ; mutilation, ; the pillory, - ; the stocks, ; the cucking-stool, ; the branks, ; whipping, ; variety of capital punishments, , _et seq._; the doom of damiens, ; and of ravaillac, ; drowning, ; pressing to death, ; decapitation, ; strangulation, ; places of execution in london, ; tower hill, ; smithfield, ; tyburn, ; account of the execution of colonel turner in leadenhall street, - ; pepys' account of, ; the crowds that attended these exhibitions, , _et seq._; execution of the murderers of mr. thynne in pall mall, ; george selwyn's craving for, ; scenes on execution day, , _et seq._; brutal treatment of the condemned by the mob, ; scene at jack sheppard's execution, ; demeanour of the doomed after sentence, , _et seq._; examples of this--paul lewis, ; john rann (sixteen string jack), ; dick turpin, ; nathaniel parkhurst, ; jerry abershaw, ; hannah dagoe, ; drink and tobacco given to the condemned on their way to the gallows, ; behaviour of lord ferrers, ; and john ayliffe, ; disregard of the condemned for religious consolation, ; duties and privileges of the ordinary, , _et seq._; dow's bequest for tolling a bell by st. sepulchre's for the condemned on their way to execution, ; and addressing an admonition to them, ; executioners and their office, ; bungling performances of, ; instances of resuscitation, - ; the place of execution changed from tyburn to newgate, - ; all executions not at first at newgate, ; one at charlotte street, rathbone place, ; one at hatton garden, ; three at execution dock, on the thames, ; the old bailey gradually monopolizes the dread business, ; first executions there, , ; description of the new gallows, , ; the dublin "engine of death," , ; phoebe harris (last instance) burned to death, , ; the change of the place of execution works no improvement in the conduct of the mob, ; scene at the execution, and last moments of governor wall, - ; execution of holloway and haggerty, ; shocking catastrophe and loss of life at, , ; of bellingham, ; of fauntleroy, ; and of courvoisier, ; scenes at, ; description of an execution, - ; treatment of the condemned after sentence and up to execution, , _et seq._; gibbon wakefield on the treatment of the condemned, - ; the recorder's report, ; the ordinary censured for the condemned sermon before fauntleroy, ; gibbon wakefield's account of the sunday service when the condemned sermon was preached, - ; his description of another religious service--the formal thanks of the reprieved, - ; crowded and fashionable congregation to hear courvoisier's condemned sermon, ; and dense crowd to see him hanged, ; capital punishment abolished for a number of offences formerly so visited, ; dissection of the bodies of murderers, , ; abolition of the practice, , ; exhibition of the bodies of dead criminals, - ; those of clench and mackay, ; that of williams, the murderer of the marrs, ; the custom of hanging in chains, ; shocking exhibitions at executions, ; that of charles white, executed for arson at newgate, ; luigi buranelli, ; and william bousfield, ; objections to calcraft's method of hanging, ; his antecedents and habits, ; expense of obtaining a hangman, ; account of calcraft and his "short drop" system, - ; and of marwood and his "long drop" system, , ; demoralizing effects of public executions, , _et seq._; scenes at the execution of the 'flowery land' pirates, ; and at that of müller, - ; parliamentary proceedings for the abolition of public executions, ; legally abolished in , ; last public execution at newgate, that of the fenian, michael barrett, for complicity in the clerkenwell explosion, ; the first private execution was at maidstone gaol, ; the first at newgate--alex. mackay, for the murder of his mistress, ; private executions not popular with the newgate officials, ; demeanour of the condemned, , _et seq._; that of wainwright, ; of catherine wilson, ; of kate webster, ; of marley, ; of christian sattler, ; many attempt to destroy themselves, . fairs, privilege of holding, granted to the citizens of old london, i. - ; southwark fair, . farnham, richard, case of, prisoner in newgate, i. . faro's daughters, i. , . farrar, captain, for counterfeiting the king's seal, case of, i. . fauntleroy, execution of, ii. ; ordinary of newgate censured for the tone of the condemned sermon preached before him, ; history of his career, - ; an italian, named angelini, offers to be executed in his stead, . fells, mr., keeper of newgate, charges against, i. . felton, john, execution of, i. . female debtors' side of newgate, ii. . female felons' side, newgate, ii. . females, brutal punishment of, in early times, i. - . fenn, rev. peter, executed for forgery, ii. . fernham, adam, keeper of newgate in , i. _n._ ferrers, lord, execution of, i. ; his body taken to surgeons' hall for dissection, ii. . fielding on the increase of robberies in london, i. ; his raid against gamesters, . fifth monarchy men in newgate, i. . finch, sir heneage, attorney-general, i. . fire in newgate, exemplary conduct of the keeper at a, i. . fisher, bishop of rochester, i. . fitzgerald, lord, robbery of his plate-chest, ii. . fleet prison, condition of debtors in, ii. - . fletcher, joshua, transported for forging wills, ii. - . flint, george, his escape from newgate, i. . 'flowery land' pirates, the, executed for piracy and murder, ii. , - . floyde, edward, imprisoned for speaking evil of james i.'s daughter, i. . forde, rev. brownlow, ordinary of newgate, notice of, ii. - . foreign workmen, "evil may-day" rising of the city prentices against, i. - . forgery and forgers--forging by government officials and others, i. - ; ii. - , , , - ; a capital crime, ; effects of this on public feeling, ; the bank of england the most implacable prosecutor of forgers, ; strong feeling against these prosecutions, ; early forgers--richard vaughan, bank of england notes, ; mr. gibson, a chancery deed, , ; james bolland, a bill, ; the brothers perreau, a bond for £ , , ; dr. dodd, a bond for £ , - ; charles price, _alias_ old patch, bank-notes, - ; james elliot and joshua crompton, bank-notes, , ; fauntleroy, ; fenn, rev. peter, ; increase in the crime of, ; career of fauntleroy, banker, bonds, deeds, &c., - ; of captain montgomery, bank-notes, ; of the quaker, joseph hunton, bills of exchange, ; of richard gifford, bank-notes, ; and of maynard, custom house warrant, ; the latter the last who suffered death for forgery, ; conflicting legislation on the subject, ; capital punishment for, finally abolished in , , ; passing fraudulent exchequer bills by beaumont smith, ; another clerical forger--rev. w. bailey, a promissory note, ; forgery of wills by w. h. barber, a solicitor, and joshua fletcher, a surgeon, - ; of false certificates, by robson, - ; of fictitious stock, by redpath, - ; of cheques, &c., by j. t. saward, - ; of cheques and bills, by wagner and bateman and their confederates, - ; of bank of england notes, by burnett, buncher, and griffiths, - ; of wills, by william roupell, - ; of forged acceptances on the bank of england, by the bidwells, macdonell, and noyes, - . forrest, burning of a friar named, i. . forrester, a detective, his capture of burgess and of captain ker, ii. , . forster, mr., a jacobite, in newgate, i. ; his escape, . foxe, references to, i. - . frauds by government officials, i. ; ii. - . francis, john, attempts the life of the queen, ii. - . francis, mr., executed for murdering dangerfield, i. . frankland, william, case of, for shooting a magistrate, i. . freeman, mr., in newgate, i. . fry, mrs., her labours in newgate, i. ; her first visit, ii. - ; her second visit, four years later, ; first effects of her labours, - ; an association formed, work found, and rules drawn up for better regulation of the female prisoners, - ; marvellous results of her labours, - . gallows, description of the new, first used at the old bailey, ii. , ; and of the dublin "engine of death," , . gaming, passion for, and effects of, in london in early part of th century, i. , _et seq._; gaming hells and their victims, - . gaol acts, list of various, ii. , , . gaol calendar, i. - . gaol fever, i. - ; the result of the foul state of the gaols, , ; condition of the cells, ; often underground, ; hardly any light, air, or water, and neither fireplace nor bed, , ; meagre supply of wretched food, ; debtors almost starved to death, ; wretched state of prison buildings, ; list of noblemen and bishops who owned private prisons, _n._; state of chesterfield gaol, the property of the duke of portland, ; and of that of ely, the property of the bishop, ; overcrowding the cause of gaol fever, , ; nature and effects of, , ; earliest mention of, ; and of its ravages, , ; newgate, oxford, king's bench prison, ; seldom mentioned during the th century, ; three fatal outbreaks during the first half of the th century, ; the first, at taunton, destroys the lord chief baron, sir j. shepherd, j. piggott, sheriff, and some hundreds besides, ; the second, at launceston, occasions the death of numbers, ; and the third, at newgate, sweeps away the lord mayor, sir t. abney and baron clark, the judges, sir d. lambert, and forty others, ; the corporation order an inquiry, ; a new ventilator adopted, ; fatal effects of the working of the ventilator, ; fever still continues, ; mr. akerman's account of its ravages, ; statistics of, ; howard's views on the subject, ; condemns the construction of the new (present) prison, ; dr. smith reports and condemns the new prison, , ; humanity, bravery, and presence of mind of the keeper, mr. akerman, - . gaols and gaolers in early times, i. - ; in the th century, - ; in , - ; mode of appointing, and powers and privileges of the gaoler of newgate, ; appointments to these offices ultimately made by purchase, ; whiston's protest against this abuse, , ; £ recorded as the price once paid for the office of keeper of newgate, ; and £ for that of the fleet prison, ; this is ultimately forbidden by statute, ; poor inmates of, wholly dependent on charity for support, ; epidemics and riots in, ; tortures used in, ; alexander of newgate, type of a brutal gaoler, - ; interior of newgate in mary's time, ; arraignment of gaolers for misconduct, ; case of crowder of newgate, , ; a fanatical gaoler, ; description of the interior of newgate in , - ; two keepers of newgate brought to book, , ; extortions practised in, , - , - ; deputy keeper of newgate committed to the fleet for allowing a prisoner to escape, ; mode of obtaining gaolerships and recouping themselves, ; the extortion of gaol fees, ; in enforcing them the law openly evaded, . see under _prisons_, _philanthropy in newgate_, _gaol fever_, &c. gardelle, theodore, murderer, i. - . gee, mr., a solicitor, the attempt to rob, ii. - . gentleman harry, two highwaymen so called, ii. . gerard, colonel, attempted murder of, i. ; is executed for conspiring to murder cromwell, _n._ german princess, a famous impostor, account of, i. - . gibson, mr., executed for forging a chancery deed, ii. , . gifford, richard, executed for forging bank-notes, ii. . gigger, the, a hall in newgate, i. . giltspur street compter, opening of the, i. . girl for sale, offering a, ii. . gloucester penitentiary, one of the first improved prisons in england, ii. and _n._ gold-dust, clever robbery of, in , ii. , . gordon, lord george, i. _n._; his birth and profession, and _n._; heads the protestant association against the catholics, ; attends a gathering in st. george's fields, ; and heads a monster procession to present a petition at st. stephen's, ; is arrested and committed to the tower, ; his trial, , ; declared not guilty, ; publishes a pamphlet on the condition of the prisoners in newgate, ; for which he is indicted at the king's bench, ; conducts his own defence, - ; found guilty, ; before sentence the court considers another libel, - ; fined and imprisoned in newgate, ; where he dies of gaol fever in , . gordon, the lord george, riots, i. ; origin of, ; the mob proceed to newgate, ; threaten the governor, ; attack the prison and fire the gates, , ; headed by the hangman, john dennis, ; they rush into the gaol and release the prisoners, - ; crabbe's account of the attack, - ; nearly persons killed and wounded, and fifty-nine rioters executed, . gow, captain, a pirate, career of, i. - . grieve, harriet, her career as swindler, ii. . griffiths, forger of bank-notes, ii. - . guest, william, executed for clipping, ii. - . guildford prison, state of, ii. . guillotine, the, i. , . habeas corpus act, proof of how much it was needed, i. . hackman, rev. james, executed for murder, i. - ; his testimony to the humane conduct of the keeper, mr. akerman, . haggerty, execution of, for murder, ii. . hakford, john de, punishment of, for false swearing, i. . halifax law, nature of, i. . hall, justice, a jacobite, in newgate, i. . hall ward, the, in newgate, i. . hanging, instances of resuscitation after, i. - . hangman, dialogue between the, and two other officials, i. . hangmen and their office, i. ; list of early--derreck, bull, gregory brandon, young brandon, squire dun, jack ketch, roose, price, and dennis, ; instances of their bungling, ; ii. - ; objections to calcraft's method of hanging, ; expense of obtaining a hangman, ; account of calcraft, his character, remuneration, &c., and how he came by the office, - ; and of marwood, , . hansard _versus_ stockdale, celebrated libel case involving an infringement of the privileges of parliament, account of, ii. , _n._ harris, phoebe, burned to death before newgate, ii. , . harrowby, lord, the cato street conspirators, and the house of, ii. . hatfield, attempts the life of george iii., ii. . hatton, sir christopher, on the case of crowder, i. . hawes, nathaniel, pressed to death, i. . hawkesbury, lord, allusion to, i. and _n._ hawkins, john, butler and highwayman, i. - . hawksworth, william, executed for murder, i. . hayes, catherine, account of her murder of her husband, i. - . henrietta maria's attachment to romanism, i. . henry iii. and the citizens of london, i. - . henry iv. intrusts the citizens with the custody of newgate and all other city gates, i. . henry viii.'s time, crime and criminals in, i. ; he punishes the citizens who took part in the "evil may-day" rising, - ; his religious persecutions, - ; his six articles, . hicks, sir baptist, notice of, ii. and _n._ high hall, the, in newgate, i. . highwaymen, number and exploits of, in the th century, i. - ; whitney, - ; jack cottington, - ; claude duval, - ; william nevison, - ; in the th century, - ; john hawkins, - ; james maclane, - ; william page, ; john rann, - ; william butler, ; sir simon clarke, ; william parsons, - ; paul lewis, ; william belchier, ; jonathan wild, - ; henry sterne, ii. ; henry simms, _n._ highway robbery, prevalence of, in the th century, i. - ; and in the th, ii. ; suppression of, in the neighbourhood of the metropolis by the horse patrol, , . hill, sir rowland, mayor, in , i. . hogan, john, execution of, ii. . hogarth and mrs. brownrigg, i. . holloway, execution of, for murder, ii. . holloway prison, erection of, i. ; ii. . hooper, bishop of gloucester, persecution of, i. , . horse patrol, suppression of highway robbery in the neighbourhood of the metropolis by the, ii. , . 'hot gospeller,' extract from, on newgate in mary's time, i. - . houssart, louis, murderer, i. - . howard, john, his prison labours, i. , , - , , , ; on the condition of newgate, , . howard, his attempt to rob mr. mullay, ii. , . howell, lawrence, case of, for denouncing george i. as a usurper, ii. , . howse, butler, transported for robbing his master's plate-chest, ii. . huggins, john, pays £ for the keepership of the fleet prison for the life of himself and his son, i. . hunt, convicted for participating in the murder of mr. weare, ii. , . hunton, joseph, the quaker, executed for forging bills of exchange, ii. , . ilchester gaol one of the few worthy of commendation before prison reform, ii. . incontinence and loose living, punishment for, i. - . ings, one of the cato street conspirators, his reckless demeanour on the gallows, ii. . ironing prisoners, illegality and cruelty of, i. - . jacobite prisoners in newgate, i. - ; preparations for them, , ; their appearance and reception, - ; they live royally, - ; escapes, ; keeper superseded and special officials appointed, , ; a new _régime_ enforced and military guard mounted, , ; attempts to corrupt the guard, and riotous conduct of the prisoners, - ; executions, - ; news of an amnesty, ; pardon, ; escapes of, - . jacques, robert, account of his attempt to swindle, ii. - . james, john, his account of the extortions practised in newgate, i. . jebb, sir joshua, on newgate, i. . jenkins, judge, in newgate, i. . jesuit emissaries in newgate in , i. ; case of richardson, ; escape of seven, ; more favourably treated under charles i., ; account of six jesuit priests in newgate, . johnson, a highwayman, shoots a turnkey, i. . johnson, dr. on mr. akerman, the keeper of newgate, i. . joines, edward, murderer, i. . jones, mr. j. gale, prosecuted by house of commons, ii. , . jones, mr. v., prosecuted for frauds on the exchequer, ii. , . jury, illegal treatment of the, that tried penn, i. . juvenile depravity, general increase in, ii. , _et seq._; dens of young thieves, ; moral contamination of the prison, ; instances of juvenile precocity in crime, , . ker, a sea captain, transported for a diamond robbery, ii. . kerp, one of the wagner and bateman gang of forgers, ii. - . ketch, jack, his kitchen in newgate, i. and _n._ kidd, captain, pirate, career of, i. - . king's bench prison, outbreak of gaol fever in, i. ; state of, for debtors, ii. - . king's bench ward, the, in newgate, i. . konigsmark, count, in newgate, i. ; account of the murder of mr. thynne at his instigation, - . lambeth palace, burglary at, ii. . lancaster, john, his conversion and execution, ii. , . leary, a precocious juvenile thief, career of, ii. , . lewis, lieutenant paul, execution of, i. . lewis, paul, highwayman, i. . 'liber albus,' penalties in, against brawling and breaking the peace, i. , _et seq._; its account of the procedure at the election of sheriffs, . lilburne, colonel, petition of, from newgate, i. ; his trial and acquittal, , ; in the pillory, . lincoln, john, a city broker, incites the citizens against foreign workmen, i. ; for which he suffers death, . 'lives of the most remarkable criminals,' i. . london, old, stowe's picture of the insecurity of life in, at the close of the th century, i. ; penal statute of edward i. against evil-doers in, ; penalties in the 'liber albus' for brawling and breaking the peace in, - ; account of various punishments meted out to givers of false weight and short measure, false swearers, slanderers, &c., in, - ; henry iii. and the mayor and sheriffs of, , ; a new charter granted to, by edward iii., ; other privileges and charters granted by the same monarch, ; dealings of richard ii. with, ; a new charter granted by henry iv., which gives the citizens the custody of newgate and all other city gates, ; powers and privileges of the sheriffs of, - ; dispute between the corporation and the sheriffs of, regarding the right to appoint the gaoler or keeper of newgate, - ; recapture out of sanctuary of an escaped prisoner by the sheriffs of, ; the "evil may-day" rising in, - ; religious persecutions in, - ; state of, in , ; mode of training cutpurses in, ; coney-catching in, - ; turbulence of the mob in, . lotteries, state, evils of, i. . lower ward, newgate, i. . lunsford, edward, his escape from newgate, i. , . lupton, reference to his 'london carbonadoed,' i. . macclesfield, earl of, his venal practices, i. . macdonell, forger of acceptances, ii. - . mackay, alex., executed for the murder of his mistress, ii. ; the first privately executed at newgate, ii. . macklin, charles, the actor, found guilty of manslaughter, i. , . maclane, james, highwayman, in newgate, i. ; account of his career, - . "maiden, the," i. . maine on capital punishment, i. . maison de force, at ghent, ii. . maitland on the site of newgate, i. ; on the "black waggon," or "evil may-day" rising, ; on the discovery of thieves, . malcolm, sarah, executed for murder, i. - . malden, daniel, his escapes from newgate, i. - . male debtors' side of newgate, ii. . 'malefactor's bloody register,' the, i. . malpas, philip, sheriff of london, his gift to poor prisoners, i. ; and recapture of an escaped prisoner, . mannings, the, murderers of o'connor, ii. ; their antecedents, ; their victim, , ; the murder, ; its discovery, ; their escape, ; capture, ; trial, , ; condemnation and execution, - . mansfield, lord, his impartiality on the trial of lord george gordon, i. and _n._; his opposition to pardoning dr. dodd, ii. _n._ manslaughter, eminent persons found guilty or acquitted of--james quin, i. ; charles macklin, i. ; joseph baretti, i. - . marley, robert, executed for the murder of r. cope, ii. - . marrow, ann, pilloried for passing as a man, i. . marshal of the king's bench prison, account of the office of, ii. . marshalsea prison, and of the debtors in, ii. - . marwood, the hangman, account of, ii. , . maryan persecutions, i. , _et seq._ massey, captain, case of, tried and executed for involuntary piracy, i. . master felons' side, newgate, ii. ; price and privileges of, . mauritius, bishop of london, preparations of, for building a new cathedral, i. . may, a body-snatcher, narrowly escapes hanging, ii. - . maynard, executed for forging a custom house warrant, ii. ; the last person who suffered death for forgery, . mayor, lord, mode of electing, settled, i. ; an ancient, entertains four sovereigns, , . mead, the quaker, in newgate, i. . mediÆval newgate, i. - . meredith, john, case of, committed to newgate, i. . meteyard, mrs., execution of, i. . meteyards, the, murderers, i. - . metropolis, state of crime in the, in the early part of the th century, i. , _et seq._ middle ward, the, newgate, i. . middle yard, newgate, ii. . middleton, thomas, committed to newgate for refusing to be sworn, i. . millbank penitentiary, erection of i. . mist, nathaniel, prosecuted for libel, ii. . mobbs, executed for murdering his wife, ii. . mock trials in newgate, ii. - . moders, mary, a famous impostor, account of, i. - . monmouth, the duke of, witnesses an execution in pall mall, i. . montgomery, captain, forging bank-notes, poisons himself, ii. . montgomery, lord, a prisoner in newgate, i. . more, sir thomas, reference to his 'utopia,' i. ; his death, ; on hanging for theft, ii. . "moses, money," a notorious receiver, conviction of, ii. , . "mulled sack." see _cottington, jack_. mÜller, franz, executed for the murder of mr. briggs, ii. - , - . munday, alderman sir john, and the "evil may-day" rising, i. . mutilation, the punishment of, i. . murders and murderers in london, some of the principal--richard savage, i. ; major oneby, - ; marquis de paleoti, , ; catherine hayes, - ; sarah malcolm, - ; john price (the hangman), - ; louis houssart, - ; vincent davis, ; george price, - ; edward joines, ; john williamson, ; theodore gardelle, - ; the meteyards (mother and daughter), - ; mrs. elizabeth brownrigg, - ; mr. plunkett, ; mr. edward bird, ; william hawksworth, ; rev. james hackman, - ; governor wall, - ; scene at his execution, and last moments, ii. - ; john hogan, ; john sutherland, ; charles palm, ; sam tilling, ; holloway, ; haggerty, ; bellingham, ; courvoisier, , , , - ; williams, , ; thurtell, hunt, and probert, , ; bishop and williams (the "burkers"), - ; greenacre, - ; daniel good, - ; hocker, - ; the mannings, - ; marley, - , ; mobbs, ; barthelemy, ; müller, - , - ; wainwright, , , ; catherine wilson, , - ; kate webster, , , ; alexander mackay, ; christian sattler, , . neild, mr., his prison visitations, ii. . nevison, william, highwayman, account of, i. - . newgate--the first prison, i. ; its antiquity, ; its first inmates and their treatment, - ; original gate-house gaol part of city fortifications, ; is restored and improved by whittington's executors, ; despotic power of chief gaoler, ; is rebuilt in , ; wren supposed to be the architect, ; number of divisions in the interior, ; the press yard and its privileges, , ; prison life in the th century, - ; public executions and their surroundings, - ; the old prison is condemned, ; the present prison was begun in , ; george dance is the architect, ; was fired by the lord george gordon rioters, ; and afterwards repaired, ; condition of the inmates in , - ; mrs. fry's labours in, ; report of the government inspectors on, , ; it undergoes various alterations, ; and serves till , when it was closed, ; still the metropolitan place of execution, . _newgate, mediæval_, i. - ; earliest mention of, ; conjectures regarding its site, ; and as to its being one of the four original gates of the city, ; state of mediæval newgate, ; and of its inmates, ; used as a prison for persons of rank before the tower, ; and for various offenders against city laws, - ; first recorded escape from, ; consequences of, to the mayor and sheriffs, , ; henry iv. commits the keeping of newgate to the citizens, ; the sheriffs have the custody of the prisoners in, ; privileges of the sheriffs in reference to prisoners, and _n._; mode of appointing, and powers and privileges of, the gaoler or keeper of, ; the appointment to the office ultimately becomes purchasable, ; £ recorded as the price once paid for the office, ; dispute between the sheriffs and the corporation as to the right to appoint the gaoler of, - ; a royal nominee sometimes appointed, ; dispute between the lords of the council and the corporation on the subject, , ; poor prisoners in, wholly dependent on charity for their support, - ; recapture of an escaped prisoner, ; their wretched condition, ; transference of all debtors to, ; a prayer-book bequeathed to, ; wat tyler and his followers break into, and set the prisoners free, ; whittington leaves money for rebuilding, ; various repairs made at different times on the third edifice, . _newgate in the sixteenth century_, i. - ; starting-point for the promenade to the pillory, ; the "evil may-day" prisoners, - ; the murders of roderigo the spaniard, ; poor debtors in, , ; prisoners for conscience' sake in, - ; alexander, keeper of newgate in mary's time, type of a brutal gaoler, - ; description of, in mary's time, ; nature of the prisoners in edward's reign, - ; religious prisoners in elizabeth's time, - ; and political prisoners, ; condition of the prisoners during the th century, - ; inquiry into the conduct of crowder, the gaoler in elizabeth's time, . _newgate in the seventeenth century, down to the great fire_, i. - ; jesuit emissaries in, in , ; license allowed to, ; escape of seven, ; favour shown to, by charles i., ; case of thomas coo, over twenty years in, ; sufferings and petitions of other poor wretches in, - ; conditional pardons issued to certain prisoners, - ; petitions of others for release, , ; jesuit priests and irish friars in, ; prisoners for infringing sanitary laws, ; and for incontinence and loose living, - ; for religious fanaticism, rioting, and forging, - ; condition of the prisoners, tyranny of the keeper, and extortion of the understrappers in, - ; the "dogge tavern" in, ; petitions from prisoners in, during the long parliament, - ; royalist prisoners in, - ; brother of the portuguese ambassador in, ; aristocratic prisoners in, . _newgate in the seventeenth century, after the great fire_, i. - ; refaced and refronted, ; destroyed in the great fire of , ; how rebuilt, ; the façade, ; description of the position and interior of the prison, - ; general divisions of, ; the felons' cell, ; the master debtors' side, - ; the master felons' side, ; the common side for debtors, - ; jack ketch's kitchen, _n._; the common felons' side, - ; the press yard and castle, - ; the chapel, ; wretched condition of the inmates, ; suicide frequent, ; two keepers brought to book, , ; clippers and coiners in, - ; highwaymen in, - ; abductors in, , _et seq._; count konigsmark and the german princess in, - ; titus oates and dangerfield, - ; extortion to which prisoners were subjected, ; quakers in, ; romish priests and laymen in, ; the press yard, its extent, privileges, extortions, and inmates, - ; jacobite prisoners in, - ; spotted fever in, ; rob roy in, ; executions from, and scenes at, - ; escapes from, - ; calendars of, - ; murderers confined in, - ; quin, macklin, and baretti in, - ; highwaymen in, - ; pirates in, - ; gaol fever and its ravages in, - ; life in, ; the sexes intermixed, ; debauchery, gaming, drunkenness, moral contamination, ; prisoners subjected to experiments, ; they take military service to escape from, . _newgate--the new gaol_, i. - ; ii. - ; preliminary proceedings, i. , _et seq._; density of prison population, _n._; destruction of the press yard by fire, ; and two of the inmates burned, ; preparations for the erection of a new gaol, ; estimate of the cost, , ; foundation stone laid by lord mayor beckford, ; the lord george gordon riots, ; the mob proceed to newgate, ; threaten the governor, ; attack the prison, and fire the gates, , ; they are headed by the hangman, john dennis, ; they rush into the gaol and release the prisoners, - ; crabbe's account of the attack, - ; some of the released prisoners voluntarily return, ; others are recaptured, ; keys of, found in st. james's square, ; £ , voted by parliament for repairing damage done by the rioters, ; state of crime at the opening of the new gaol, ii. - ; forgers in, - ; clippers and coiners in, - ; street robbers and pickpockets, - ; swindlers and sharpers, - ; juvenile criminals, - ; victims of the press laws, - ; government officials, - ; the marquis of sligo in, . _newgate down to _, ii. - ; still overcrowded, ; statistics as to the number of prisoners in, at given times, ; description of the interior as it was occupied in , ; the male debtors' side, ; the female debtors' side, ; the chapel yard, ; the middle yard, ; the master felons' side, ; the state side, ; the press yard, ; the female felons' side, ; sanitary and other conveniences, ; description of the debtors' side and of their daily life there, - ; of the criminal side, , _et seq._; classification of inmates, - ; contaminating influences of indiscriminate association, - ; mock trials in, , ; cost and privileges of the master's side, ; and of the state side, - ; lunatics in, and _n._; the female felons' wards, ; the new press yard the receptacle for male condemned prisoners, ; number, treatment, and accommodation of the condemned, - ; ill-treatment of prisoners in, - ; visitors to newgate searched, _n._; "bad money," explanation of the phrase, ; indiscriminate admission leads to frightful consequences, - ; the corporation make inquiries regarding improvements in, ; and propose certain stringent reforms in, - ; absence of any religious or moral instruction in, ; and indifference of the ordinaries generally, ; philanthropic labours of outsiders on behalf of the prisoners in, - ; specimen of a newgate ordinary, - ; efforts of the philanthropic society and other institutions on behalf of the prisoners in, - ; mrs. fry's labours amongst the female prisoners in, - ; and its wonderful results, - ; improvements introduced into, ; visits of the prison inspectors to, and their report on, ; general condition of, - ; the power and tyranny of the wardsmen, - ; incompetency of the governor, mr. cope, ; a nursery of crime, ; literature of, ; drinking, feasting, and fighting in, - ; indiscriminate admission of visitors, ; abuses on the female side, - ; labours of the ladies' association, ; condition of the condemned, - ; indiscriminate association and brutal callousness of, ; newgate tokens and their value in the eyes of the criminal classes, and _n._; lunatics in, - ; abuses of the state side revived, , ; utter lack of discipline in, - ; severity of the inspectors' remarks on the state of, , ; some improvements introduced, - ; inspectors still complain, - ; becomes the place of public execution, ; first executions, ; description of the new gallows at, ; phoebe harris burned to death at, ; scene at the execution of governor wall, - ; shocking catastrophe and loss of life at the execution of holloway and haggerty, ; executions of bellingham, ; fauntleroy, ; and courvoisier at, ; scenes at, and description of an execution at, - ; treatment of the condemned after sentence and up to execution, in, - ; account of the sunday service in, when the condemned sermon was preached, - ; and of another religious service, the formal thanks of the reprieved, - ; crowded and fashionable congregation at, to hear courvoisier's condemned sermon, ; and dense crowd at his execution, ; shocking exhibitions at executions at, - . newgate notorieties, ii. - ; the cato street conspirators in, and their execution in front of it, - ; criminals in, for attempts on the life of the sovereign, - ; for forgery, - ; for abduction, - ; for robbery, - ; ikey solomons, a notorious receiver, in, - ; for bullion robberies, - ; for diamond robberies, - ; for that of gold-dust, - ; murderers in--thurtell, hunt, and probert, ; bishop and williams, - ; greenacre, - ; the wallaces for wilful shipwreck, - ; forgers--rev. w. bailey, ll.d., ; w. h. barber and joshua fletcher, - ; burgess, a clerk in the bank of england, for defrauding it of £ , - ; howse, for robbing his master's plate-chest, ; ker, for robbing diamonds, ; murderers--courvoisier, - ; daniel good, - ; hocker, - ; the mannings, - ; robert marley, - ; cannon, for a murderous attack on a constable, ; mobbs, for murder, ; and e. barthelemy for murder, ; perpetrators of gigantic frauds--w. watts, - ; commits suicide in, ; r. f. pries, ; j. w. cole, maltby and co., and davidson and co., - ; messrs. strahan, paul, and bates, - ; robson, - ; l. redpath, - ; the perpetrators of the great gold robbery on the south-eastern railway, - ; j. t. saward, the forger, and his confederates, - ; various successful and unsuccessful attempts at escape from, - ; suicides in, , ; demeanour of condemned murderers in, - ; poisoners in, - ; pirates and murderers, - ; of forgers, - ; the 'lennie' mutineers, ; a few lesser celebrities, . newgate reformed, ii. - ; movement for prison reform, ; pentonville 'model' prison built, ; the reform movement extends to the provinces, ; cost of prison erection, ; views as to prison discipline--silence _versus_ separation, - ; difference of treatment in different prisons, ; mr. pearson's committee on uniformity of discipline, ; his system explained, ; attention again attracted to newgate, ; old evils still prevalent, ; minor improvements introduced, ; lord john russell's suggestion as to the reconstruction of newgate, ; new city prison erected at holloway, ; newgate rebuilt internally, ; last inquiry into the condition of prisons by the lords committee in , ; diversity of treatment still the rule, ; the question of beds, ; objectionable condition of the minor borough prisons, - ; provisions of the prisons act of , - ; penalties of the act against local authorities seldom enforced, ; the bill of transfers the prisons to the government, and newgate is closed, . newgate calendars, i. ; their editors and publishers, ; compiled from sessions papers, ; demand for, caused by prevalence of crime, . nicholson, margaret, attempts the life of george iii., ii. . "night-walkers," laws and ordinances against, in old london, i. , . noblemen, list of, who owned prisons, i. _n._ norton, william, captures a highwayman, i. . noyes, forger of acceptances, ii. - . oates, titus, the informer, account of, i. - . ogle, captain, burned to death in newgate, i. . ogle, lady, i. , . old bailey becomes the place of public execution, i. . oneby, major, case of, for murder, i. - . ordinary of newgate, duties and privileges of the, i. , _et seq._; general indifference of ordinaries to the welfare of the prisoners, ii. ; specimen of an, - . orford, lord, and the suppression of piracy, i. - . overton, richard, petition for the release of, from newgate, i. . oxford, attempts the life of the queen, ii. - . oxford, outbreak of gaol fever at, i. ; the black assize at, . page, william, highwayman, i. . paine, tom, imprisoned for his rationalistic writings, ii. . paleoti, the marquis de, case of, for murdering his servant, i. . pall mall, execution of the murderers of mr. thynne in, i. . palm, charles, execution of, ii. . palmer, trial of, for poisoning cook, ii. - . pantaleon sa, don, in newgate for murder, i. . parkhurst, nathaniel, execution of, i. . parsons, william, highwayman, i. - . patch, old. see _price, charles_. pate, lieut., attempts the life of the queen, ii. , . paul, parson, a jacobite, in newgate, his execution, i. and _n._ pearson, mr., his committee on prison management, ii. . peel, mr., on small local prisons, ii. ; his bill for the abolition of capital punishment for forgery, . peers, prosecutions for libels on, ii. , . pemberton, lord chief justice, i. . penal code, effects of a ruthless, ii. - . penedo, cruel punishment of, in the pillory, i. . penn in newgate, i. . pentonville model prison erected, ii. . pepys' account of colonel turner's execution, i. . percie, sir t., in newgate, i. . perreau, the brothers, executed for forging a bond, ii. , . petty, sir william, resuscitates a woman who had been hanged, i. . petty treason, the crime of, and punishment for, i. _n._; victims of, . petworth prison, one of the first improved prisons in england, ii. and _n._ philanthropic society, the, effort of, on behalf of the prisoners in newgate, ii. , . philanthropy in newgate, ii. - ; absence of any religious or moral instructions in, ; indifference of the ordinaries generally, ; interview of the chaplain, mr. smith, with one of the condemned, ; efforts of the society for promoting christian knowledge on behalf of the prisoners, ; labours of silas told, ; his story of john lancaster and his conversion, , ; he meets with opposition from the ordinary and the turnkeys, ; but is not to be repressed, ; his account of the execution of mary edmonson, - ; and of the amateur highwaymen, - ; he visits mrs. brownrigg, ; visits of alexander cruden, ; mode in which an ordinary (rev. brownlow forde, ll.d.) discharged his duties, ; disorderly conduct at the services, ; dr. forde's opinion of the self-denying labours of others, ; the doctor more in his element in the chair at a "free-and-easy," ; efforts of the philanthropic society and other institutions, , ; and of mr. cotton, the new ordinary, , ; mrs. fry's first visit, ; condition of the female prisoners, ; extract from her diary on the subject, ; her second visit, four years later, ; condition of the female inmates then, ; barbarous treatment to which they were subjected, , ; first effects of mrs. fry's labours, - ; formation of an association for the improvement of the female prisoners, ; a matron appointed, ; work found and new rules drawn up for the regulation of the female prisoners, - ; marvellous results, - ; the great crowd to newgate to see the change, ; influence of the ladies' association on prison reform generally, . phillips, thomas, pressed to death, i. . philpot, master, persecution of, i. , _et seq._ picard, henry, lord mayor, entertains four sovereigns, i. . pie powder, privilege of holding courts of, granted to the city, i. ; confirmed by edward iv., . pierce, the designer of the gold robbery on the south-eastern railway, ii. - . pillory, use of, in old london, i. , _et seq._; foresworn jurors and ringleaders of false inquests consigned to the, ; oates in the, ; the punishment of the, ; distinguished victims of the, - ; finally abolished in , . pirates and piracy, prevalence of, and mischief done by, i. , ; one (captain roberts) took sail, ; expedition fitted out to capture and suppress, ; disastrous result of, - ; captain kidd and his career, - ; career of captain gow, - ; the treatment of the crews of captured ships by, ; the case of captain massey, tried and executed for involuntary piracy, ; the 'flowery land' pirates, ii. ; the 'lennie' mutineers, . pitt, mr., governor of newgate, i. , ; attached on a charge of high treason, ; is tried, acquitted, and restored, ; again unfortunate, . plague, punishment for careless dealing with, i. . plunkett, mr., executed for murder, i. . poisoning and poisoners, ii. , _et seq._; early instances of, ; trial of palmer for poisoning cook, - ; of dr. smethurst for poisoning miss bankes, - ; of catherine wilson for wholesale poisoning, - ; of christina edmunds for the wife of a man for whom she had conceived a guilty passion, ; the cases of bravo, lamson, and kate dover, . poisoning punished by burning alive, i. , . pope, mr., police officer, captures a highwayman, i. . porter, john, imprisoned by bonner for reading the bible in st. paul's, i. - . powell, edward, a rioter, case of, i. . poyntz, sir nicholas, his escape from newgate, i. . prayer-book specially bequeathed to newgate, i. . pressing to death, the punishment of, i. , . press laws, severity of the, at the beginning of the th century, ii. , ; case of lawrence howell for denouncing george i. as a usurper, ; of nathaniel mist for commenting on the action of george i. as to the protestants in the palatinate, ; tom paine for his rationalistic writings, ; william rowland for remarks on the conduct of two magistrates, ; libels in the 'craftsman,' ; dr. shebbeare fined, pilloried, and imprisoned for his 'sixth letter to the english people,' ; wilkes and the 'north briton' and the 'london evening post,' ; oppression of the press under george iii., ; mr. walter and the 'times,' ; prosecutions for libels on peers, ; and on the house of commons, , . press yard, the, in newgate, and its privileges, i. , ; its extent, , ; the division of newgate so called, - ; intended originally for state prisoners, ; deemed to be part of the governor's house, ; a fiction for extorting fees, ; account of the extortion practised, - ; accommodation and customs of the inmates, - ; destruction of the, by fire, ; two of the inmates burned, ; state of the, in , ii. , ; brutal indifference of the inmates of, , . price, charles, bank-note forger, ii. ; remarkable career of, - ; hangs himself, . price, evan, a religious lunatic, case of, i. . price, george, murderer, i. - . price, john, murderer, i. - . priests, seminary, persecution of, by elizabeth, i. - . prison discipline society, formation of, ii. , , ; sydney smith's opposition to, ; further efforts of the society, , _et seq._ prisoner for a penny, a, ii. . prisoners and prison life in newgate in early times, i. - ; in the th century, - ; in , - ; powers and privileges of the head gaolers or keepers in reference to, , - ; poor prisoners wholly dependent on charity for their support, ; various gifts bequeathed to, , ; all food forfeited given to, ; epidemics, ; riots and outbreaks, ; condition of, in th century, - ; benefit of clergy claimed and abused by, ; treatment of religious and political prisoners, - ; condition of, during the th century, - ; sufferings and petitions of poor prisoners in the earlier part of the th century, - ; conditional pardons granted to certain prisoners, - ; petitions of various, , , - ; account of the jacobite prisoners in newgate, - ; spotted fever breaks out amongst, ; rejoicings amongst, at an amnesty, ; loading prisoners with irons illegal, ; cruel nature of the punishment, ; john wilkes's letter on the subject, , ; capricious mode of practising the infliction, _n._; avarice the primary cause of the ill-treatment of prisoners, ; monstrous extortion of gaol fees, ; ravages amongst, from gaol fever, - ; moral contamination of, from inter-mixture of the sexes, debauchery, gaming, and drunkenness, , ; they are subjected to experiments, ; take military service to escape, ; density of the prison population, ; various kinds of, in newgate, ii. - ; statistics of, ; condition of, in newgate in , - ; ill-treatment of, - ; demoralized condition of, - ; certain stringent reforms proposed for, - ; absence of any religious or moral instruction for, ; indifference of the ordinaries generally, ; philanthropic efforts on behalf of, - ; specimen of a newgate ordinary, the rev. brownlow forde, - ; efforts of the philanthropic society and other institutions on their behalf, - ; mrs. fry's labours amongst the female prisoners, - ; their marvellous results, - . see also _prison reform_; _prisons, the first report of the inspectors of_; _philanthropy in newgate_; and _newgate reformed_. prison reforms, the beginnings of, ii. - ; mrs. fry's labours lead to prison reform generally, ; mr. neild's visitation, ; neglect of prisons not the fault of the legislature, ; various gaol acts in force, ; formation of the prison discipline society, ; mr. buxton's labours on behalf of prisoners, , _et seq._; prisoners' rights, - ; legal authority for them, - ; classification of prisoners, ; state of various prisons throughout the kingdom, , _et seq._; foulness and overcrowding in the borough compter, ; guildford prison, ; ironing of prisoners, _n._; shocking state of bristol gaol, - ; the "pit," ; a few exceptions to this, ; bury st. edmunds, a model prison, , ; ilchester gaol also commendable, ; improvements introduced into newgate, ; moral deterioration of prisoners, ; chain gangs in the streets, ; "caravans" for conveying prisoners introduced, ; sydney smith's opposition to prison reform, , ; defective nature of prison architecture, - ; new gaol legislation, , ; prison discipline society sees to its enforcement, - ; borough prisons the worst, , , , ; slow progress of reform, , ; shocking state of the new prison, clerkenwell, ; want of uniformity of treatment, ; small local prisons an impediment to reform, - ; newgate remains unaffected by the prison laws, - ; committees of both houses of parliament appointed to inquire into prison reform, , ; their recommendations on the subject, - . prisons, the first report of the inspectors of, ii. - ; inspectors appointed in , ; mr. w. crawford is one--his antecedents, ; the rev. whitworth russell the other, ; their visits to newgate, and their report on it, ; the condition of the prison as bad as before, - ; the governor, mr. cope, to blame for this, ; wretched condition of the prisoners, - ; power and tyranny of the wardsmen, - ; incompetency of the governor, mr. cope, , ; newgate a nursery of crime, ; prison literature, ; drinking, feasting, and fighting in, - ; accidents arising from this, ; riots, ; other violations of the gaol acts, ; indiscriminate admission of visitors, ; abuses on the female side, - ; labours of the ladies' association, ; condition of the condemned, - ; indiscriminate association of, ; their brutal callousness, ; a child of nine condemned to death, _n._; newgate tokens, and their importance in the eyes of the criminal classes, and _n._; the inspectors censure the conduct of the ordinary, ; lunatics in, - ; gentlemen concerned in bribery cases committed to newgate, ; abuses of the state side revived, , ; utter lack of discipline in newgate, - ; severity of the inspectors' remarks on the state of newgate, , ; the corporation protest, but attempt to reform, ; nature of the improvements, , ; in succeeding reports the inspectors still complain, - . prisons act of , provisions of the, ii. - ; and of , . prisons, list of noblemen and bishops who owned, i. _n._ prize-fighting and its aristocratic patrons, ii. . probert, participates in the murder of mr. weare, ii. ; turns approver, ; hanged for horse-stealing, . protestants, persecutions of, in the th century, i. - . prynne, release of, from prison, i. . prynne in the pillory, i. , . punishments, early forms of, i. , _et seq._ quakers in newgate, i. ; penn and mead, and their unjust treatment, , . queen, attempts on the life of the. see _sovereign, attempts on the life of the_. quin, james, the actor, found guilty of manslaughter, i. . rann, john, highwayman, execution of, i. ; account of his career, - . ratcliffe, mr., his escape from newgate, ; recapture and execution, , . ravaillac, the punishment of, i. . rebels, jacobite, in newgate, account of the, i. - . receiver of stolen property, career of a notorious, ikey solomons, ii. - ; sir james stephen recommends capital punishment for those repeatedly convicted, _n._; conviction of "money moses," another notorious receiver, and a direct descendant of ikey, , . recorder's report, terrible suspense of the condemned and their friends in waiting for the, ii. . religious persecutions in the th century, i. - . reresby, sir john, i. . resolution club, a gang of robbers, account of, i. . resurrection men and their doings, ii. , - , - . resuscitation after hanging, instances of, i. - . richard ii. oppresses the citizens, i. . richardson, w., a jesuit, trial and execution of, i. . riots, street, i. ; the footmen's, - . roarers, account of the, and of their punishment, in old london, i. . robberies, impunity with which they were committed in the th century, ii. ; daring nature of, - . robbery, highway, prevalence of, in the th century, i. - ; in london in the early part of the th century, , _et seq._; fielding on, ; instances of, with violence, ii. - ; of bullion from the custom house, ; of diamonds, - ; burglaries, ; of gold-dust, - ; of banks and royal palaces, ; of lord fitzgerald's plate-chest, ; of clubs by a member, ; of diamonds by a sea captain, . roberts, captain, pirate, i. . rob roy in newgate, i. . rogers, john, his persecution and burning, i. . roman catholics, persecutions of, in the th century, i. - . romilly, sir samuel, his efforts to ameliorate the criminal law, ii. . roupell, william, his will forgeries, ii. - . rowland, william, prosecuted for libel, ii. . royalist prisoners in newgate, i. - . russell, lord john, on prison reform, ii. . russell, lord william, murder of, ii. - . russell, rev. w., inspector of prisons, i. . ryan, matthew, last person pressed to death, i. . sackville, edward, in newgate, i. . st. giles's bowl, i. , . st. martin's-le-grand, sanctuary of, i. and _n._ sanctuary of st. martin's-le-grand, i. _n._; advantage of, to those who fled to, i. and _n._ sattler, christian, executed for murdering a police inspector, ii. , . savage, richard, tried and condemned for murder, case of, i. . saward, j. t., forgeries of, and his confederates, ii. - . scott, a highwayman, attempted escape of, i. . selwyn, george, i. ; his craving for executions, , . seminary priests, persecution of, in elizabeth's time, i. - . shebbeare, dr., in the pillory, i. . shebbeare, dr., prosecutes for libel, ii. . sheppard, jack, scene at his execution, i. ; his escapes from newgate, - ; his celebrity, , ; and trial, . sheppard, james, a jacobite, scene at the execution of, i. . sheriffs of old london, mode of electing, i. ; their powers as to newgate, , ; and privileges as to prisoners, and _n._; the "sheriffs' fund," origin and use of, _n._; dispute between the, and the corporation as to the right to appoint the gaoler or keeper of newgate, - ; recapture of an escaped prisoner by the, . ship-money, commitments to newgate for non-payment of, i. . shipwreck, wilful, of heavily-insured ships, ii. - . silk, captain, a jacobite, in newgate, i. , _et seq._ six articles of henry viii., persecutions for infringement of, i. , _et seq._ sixteen string jack, execution of, i. . skeffington's gyves, i. . sligo, the marquis of, imprisoned in newgate, ii. , . smethurst, dr., trial of, for poisoning miss bankes, ii. - . smith, dr., his report on newgate, i. . smith, sydney, opposed to wholesale prison reforms, ii. , . smith, thomas, burned to death in newgate, i. . society for the promotion of christian knowledge, efforts of, on behalf of prisoners in newgate, ii. . solomons, ikey, a notorious receiver, account of the career of, ii. - . somers, lord, and the suppression of piracy, i. - . southwark, the bailiwick of, granted to the city, i. ; confirmed by edward iv., . sovereign, attempts on the life of the--margaret nicholson on george iii., ii. ; hatfield on george iii., ; john collins on william iv., ; oxford on the queen, - ; john francis on the queen, - ; john william bean on the queen, , ; lieutenant pate on the queen, , . spiggot, william, pressed to death, i. . spinola, benedict, petition against, i. and _n._ state side, newgate, ii. ; price and privileges of, . stephen, sir james, recommends capital punishment for repeatedly convicted receivers, ii. _n._ sterne, henry, robs the duke of beaufort of his "george," ii. . stockdale _versus_ hansard, celebrated libel case involving an infringement of the privileges of parliament, account of, ii. , _n._ stocks, the punishment of the, i. . stone hall, the, in newgate, i. . stone hold, newgate, i. . stone ward, the, in newgate, i. . stowe on the site of newgate, i. - ; note in thom's edition of, _n._ strangulation, the punishment of, i. . strangways, major, pressed to death, i. . street riots frequent, i. ; and robberies, ii. - . surgeons' hall, site of, ii. ; bodies of murderers taken thither for dissection, . sutherland, john, execution of, ii. . swainson, a dane, executed for the abduction of miss rawlins, an heiress, i. . swindlers and sharpers, careers of some of the principal--the german princess, i. ; systematic operations of, in th century, ii. ; alexander day, ; female sharpers, ; harriet grieve, ; james dignum, ; mrs. clarke, ; her connection with the duke of york and colonel wardle, , ; robert jacques's deception, - . "tangier," a ward so called in newgate, i. . tarpeys, husband and wife, diamond robbery by, ii. . tester, one of the perpetrators of the gold robbery on the south-eastern railway, ii. - . thistlewood, the leader of the cato street conspiracy, account of, ii. , _et seq._ thurtell, executed for the murder of mr. weare, ii. , . thynne, thomas, account of the murder of, i. - . tidd, one of the cato street conspirators, ii. . tilling, sam, execution of, ii. . tokens, newgate, importance attached to them by the criminal classes, ii. and _n._ told, silas, his early life and conversion, ii. ; takes to prison visiting, ; his account of the conversion of john lancaster, , ; becomes a regular visitor, but meets with opposition from the ordinary, , ; his story of mary edmonson, - ; visits mrs. brownrigg, . tolls, power of collecting, granted to the citizens, i. and _n._ torture, infliction of, in prisons, i. , _et seq._ townsend, mr., bow street runner, on the state of crime, ii. . towris, sir thomas, i. . tronage, privilege of, granted to the city, i. . tun, prison built in for night-walkers, i. _n._ turner, colonel, execution of, i. - . turpin, dick, execution of, i. . tyburn, the early place of public execution, i. , ; scenes on execution day on the road to, , _et seq._; abolition of the tyburn procession, ; dr. johnson on, ; reasons for abolishing, , . 'tyburn calendar,' the, i. . tyler, wat, and his followers break open newgate and set the prisoners free, i. . underhill, edward, yeoman of the guard, his description of newgate in mary's time, i. . vaughan, richard, forger of bank-notes, ii. . ventilator for preventing fever in newgate, account of, i. - . vratz, captain, one of the murderers of mr. thynne, i. . wagner, a systematic forger, ii. - . wainwright, executed for the murder of harriet lane, ii. , , . wakefield, gibbon, on the treatment of the condemned in newgate, ii. - ; his account of the sunday service when the condemned sermon was preached, - ; account of his abduction (aided by his brother) of miss turner, an heiress, - ; sentenced to three years' imprisonment, . wakefield, william, imprisoned for aiding in the abduction of miss turner, ii. - . wall, governor, executed for flogging a man to death, i. - ; scene at the execution, and last moments of, ii. - . wallaces, conviction of the, for wilful shipwreck, ii. - . walpole, horace, on maclane, a highwayman, i. , , . walter, mr., and the 'times,' prosecution of, for libel, ii. . wardsmen in newgate, power and tyranny of the, ii. - . watchmen, character, duties, and remuneration of, in the th century, ii. . waterman's hall, newgate, i. . webster, kate, executed for the murder of her mistress, ii. , , . whetstone, the punishment of the, i. and _n._ whipping, the punishment of, i. . whiston, james, on selling the office of keepers of prisons, i. , . white, charles, shocking scene at the execution of, ii. . whitney, a famous highwayman, exploits and execution of, i. - . 'whit's palace,' i. . whittington, lord mayor, repairs newgate, i. ; transfers debtors from newgate to ludgate, ; his death-bed, ; leaves moneys for rebuilding newgate, . wild, jonathan, his career, i. - . wilkes, john, and the 'north briton,' i. , ; ii. ; his letter on the cruelty and illegality of ironing prisoners, i. . williams, captain, prison inspector, on newgate, i. . williams, executed for "burking" many victims and selling their bodies, ii. - . williams, john, case of, in newgate, i. . williams, the murderer of the marrs, exhibition and procession of his body, ii. , . williams, publisher of the 'north briton,' in the pillory, i. . williams, renwick, "the monster," doings of, ii. . williamson, john, murderer, i. . wilson, catherine, executed for wholesale poisoning, ii. , - . wolsey, cardinal, his dealings with the citizens in the "evil may-day" rising, i. - ; said to have been placed in the stocks, . women's ward, newgate, i. , . wren, supposed to be the architect of the present prison, i. . wright, ex-lord chief justice, in newgate, i. . "young england," account of the imaginary association so called formed by the lunatic oxford, ii. - . bungay: clay and taylor, printers. _s. & h._ footnotes: [ ] report of the committee of the house of commons on the police of the metropolis, . [ ] sir james mackintosh on the state of the criminal law. [ ] wade, p. . [ ] evidence of alderman harmer before committee on capital punishment, . [ ] a remarkable diminution of forgeries at once followed the abolition of the £ notes. [ ] see post. chap. vii. [ ] "if dr. dodd does not suffer the sentence of the law," said lord mansfield to the king in council, "then the perreaus have been murdered." the lord chief justice held an opinion in common with most reflecting men of that age, that death for forgery was indispensable to protect commercial credit. lord campbell, in his 'lives of the lords chief justice,' states that he heard a judge say, after passing the death sentence for forgery, "may you find the mercy above which a due regard to the credit of the paper currency of this country forbids you to hope for here." [ ] see vol. i. p. . [ ] knapp and baldwin's 'newgate calendar,' i. . [ ] see chap. viii. vol. i. [ ] by an act of william and mary, £ was offered for the apprehension and conviction of a highwayman; the same sum, by and william iii. cap. , for conviction of a coiner or clipper; also, by anne, cap. , for conviction of a burglar or housebreaker. ten pounds was the reward for the conviction of a sheep-stealer, or of a person uttering or paving away counterfeit money, or fabricating spurious copper coins. [ ] evidence of john vickery, a bow street runner, before committee on the police of the metropolis, . [ ] the sobriquet of gentleman harry was also enjoyed by henry simms, a highwayman who frequented the lewisham and blackheath roads. on one occasion, when travelling into northamptonshire on a rather fresh horse, a gentleman who was in a post-chaise remarked to him, "don't ride so hard, sir, or you'll soon ride away all your estate." "indeed i shall not," replied simms, "for it lies in several counties," and dismounting, he challenged the gentleman to stand, and robbed him of a hundred and two guineas. [ ] see _ante_, vol. i. p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see chapter iii., 'philanthropy in newgate.' [ ] see _ante_, vol. i. p. , where there is an account of how williams, wilkes' publisher, was put in the pillory. [ ] grant's 'newspaper press,' vol. i. . [ ] _ibid._ i. . [ ] _ibid._ i. . [ ] in march the sheriffs of london had been committed to newgate by the house of commons for gross partiality in favour of sir francis burdett at the election for middlesex. [ ] 'state of prisons in england, scotland, and wales,' . [ ] these cabins were partitioned off by a wooden hoarding which went up three parts of the way to the ceiling, and they received all light and air from the top. [ ] see _ante_, vol. i. p. . [ ] 'neild,' p. . [ ] _ibid._ [ ] _ibid._ [ ] debtors are still sent to prison ( ) for a fixed term, but only under a warrant of contempt of court. it is in the power of the county court judge thus to punish all whom he believes can pay, but will not. nevertheless, numerous cases of hardship still occur. as when a working-man's wife pledges his credit in his absence, makes away with the writs served by the creditor, and ignores judgment obtained. the husband hears first of the affair when arrested for contempt. [ ] the large discretionary powers of these courts created a petty tyranny in a set of standing commissioners.--_blackstone._ [ ] 'neild.' [ ] besides these and other fees paid in prison, there were the charges of the "secondary," who received a shilling per pound for every pound under £ , and sixpence for every pound above that sum. this was called the sheriff's poundage, and often amounted to large sums--as much as £ odd in one case which is cited by mr. neild. [ ] 'neild,' p. . [ ] neild says in there were males, females, and children in the gaol. [ ] . [ ] it was so condemned in on account of its ruinous condition. the debtors were but indifferently lodged, but the common side felons occupied a horrible den styled the rat hole, and the women another called the mouse hole. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] mr. john kirby. [ ] even the felons were better off for food. see p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. , _et seq._ [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] evidence before committee of house of commons, . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] one lunatic was kept in the state side upwards of six years. he was described as "sometimes a little dangerous," and generally occupied in a room by himself. there were at this time three or four other lunatics (two of them "dangerous") who went at large in the wards on the common side. [ ] see _ante_, vol. i. cap. v. [ ] cashman was the only one of the spafields rioters ( ) who was capitally convicted and executed. four others who were arraigned with him were acquitted by the jury, to the astonishment of the court. cashman, who had been a seaman in the royal navy, pleaded that he had been to the admiralty to claim prize-money to the value of £ on the day of the riot. on his way home, half drunk, he had been persuaded to join the rioters. cashman's unconcern lasted to the end. as he appeared on the gallows the mob groaned and hissed the government, and cashman joined in the outcry until the drop fell. [ ] as to ironing females, see _post_, p. . [ ] visitors were searched at the lodge--the males by a turnkey, the females by a woman retained for the purpose. these officials had orders to strip those they searched if they thought necessary. the examination was seldom of any avail; but on one occasion a wife, who had hopes of compassing her husband's escape, was detected in trying to pass a long rope into the prison. the woman was arrested and committed to newgate for trial, where her husband already lay cast for highway robbery. [ ] petworth prison, built in , and gloucester penitentiary, erected in , were the two first gaols established which provided a separate sleeping cell for every prisoner. [ ] some interesting details are published by the french prison society on this head. [ ] how perfunctory was the performance of his duties by the ordinary may be gathered from the following chapter. [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] 'dr. forde's evidence,' p. . [ ] 'memoirs of mrs. fry,' i. . [ ] the philanthropic society is identical with the farm school at redhill, one of our most prosperous and best-managed reformatory schools at the present date. mr. william crawfurd, afterwards one of the first inspectors of prisons, was long an active member of the committee during the early days of the society. [ ] see _ante_, cap. ii. [ ] 'buxton on prison discipline,' . [ ] this was the germ of the ladies' committee, which existed down to . [ ] 'buxton on prison discipline,' p. . [ ] 'buxton,' p. . [ ] still in existence, and still deserving of praise. [ ] stated at length the title is, 'an inquiry whether crime and misery are produced or prevented by our present system of prison discipline, illustrated by descriptions of various prisons.' [ ] 'wm. smith on state of jails,' , already referred to, vol. i. cap. x. [ ] charles ii. c. . [ ] 'buxton,' p. . [ ] in the society reported that "prisoners for assize at one county gaol are double ironed on first reception, and thus fettered, are at night chained down in bed, the chain being fixed to the floor of the cell, and fastened to the leg fetters of the prisoners. this chain is of sufficient length to enable the prisoners to raise themselves in bed. the cell is then locked, and he continues thus chained down from seven o'clock in the evening till six o'clock next morning. there were but two gaol deliveries in the county for the year, so a prisoner may continue to be thus treated for from six to eight months, and be then acquitted as innocent." the double irons for the untried varied in weight from ten to fourteen pounds. [ ] mr. buxton, while most loudly inveighing against the foul state of most british gaols, fully exonerates the governors. "none of the grievances represented," he says in his preface, "are occasioned by the gaolers; that class of men are often subjected to undistinguished abuse; my experience would furnish me with very different language. without any exception, i have had reason to approve, and sometimes to applaud, their conduct; and i can truly say that of all the persons with whom i have conversed, they are the most sensible of the evils of our present system of prison discipline." [ ] see _post_, chap. v. the privilege of getting in extra and more luxurious articles of food long survived. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] prisons. 'edinburgh review,' feb. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] the greatest variety existed as to the amount of ascension. in one prison a prisoner had to ascend as much as , feet daily, in others between and . women were put on the tread-wheel in those times. [ ] dance's newgate was commenced before howard's 'state of prisons' was published, and was very properly condemned as defective by him and others. in the volume from which i am quoting its defects are fully detailed. everything was sacrificed to the one idea of safe custody. to secure this, the "airing courts were enclosed by lofty impenetrable buildings, by which the general salubrity and ventilation of the interior became materially diminished." by the arrangement of the courts it was impracticable to preserve a judicious system of separation. no sleeping cells were provided, and, as we know, the prisoners passed the night associated together in crowded rooms. no inspection was possible. on these accounts the prison discipline society were of opinion that newgate was "particularly objectionable as a model for imitation, ... a remark not deserving the less attention because the exterior of the prison presents a massive and imposing elevation which is calculated to excite impressions in favour of its security and seclusion." [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] there were still some notorious exceptions. the most extraordinary neglect prevailed in the county prison at exeter, which was left year after year in its old disgraceful state, overcrowded, filthy, without chaplain, hospital, dietaries, or proper clothing for prisoners. [ ] just before sessions the total was generally much higher, and reached at times to nearly . [ ] see last chapter of this volume. [ ] this is the french and belgian practice still. in both those countries a portion of the _pécule_, or prisoner's earnings, can be spent in the prison canteen in various luxuries of diet. [ ] the gaol acts of - . [ ] 'report of p. d. society, ,' p. . [ ] it was the duke of richmond, himself the chairman of that committee, who had introduced the bill for the purpose. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] mr. wakefield's abduction of miss turner will be found treated at length in chapter viii. his work on the punishment of death, which deals with newgate at this time, i shall draw upon largely in the next chapter. [ ] these words were the foundation of the great libel cause of stockdale _versus_ hansard, which will be remembered as threatening a serious collision between the house of commons and the administration of the law. mr. stockdale, feeling aggrieved at the remarks of the inspectors of prisons, brought an action for libel against messrs. hansard, who published them. hansard pleaded justification, and that the report was privileged, being printed by the authority of the house of commons. lord denman, on the bench, dissented, and charged the jury that no such authority could justify a libel, but hansard obtained a verdict of not guilty. stockdale then brought a fresh action, and hansard appealed to the house for protection. a committee of the house was appointed to inquire into the matter, and it upheld the view that official blue books could not be open to action for libel. this formed the basis of hansard's defence; but the court would not admit the plea, and cast them in damages. hansard did not pay, and went on with the publication. a third action was then commenced, on the grounds that the sale of the report was a reiterance of the libel. to this action hansard would not plead. a fresh declaration was filed by stockdale, with the damages laid at £ , ; and as hansard still, under the advice of the house, would not appear, the case again went against him. stockdale now sued for his damages in the sheriffs' court. the sheriffs, well aware that messrs. hansard were backed up by the house of commons, tried to escape giving a judgment, at least until the house met, but they were ordered by the superior courts to proceed. they accordingly assessed stockdale's damages at £ , and in liquidation thereof entered into possession of hansard's premises. the printers once more appealed to the house, which on the first day of the session went into the whole case. on the motion of lord john russell, the sheriffs were summoned to the bar of the house for infringing its privileges, and committed to the custody of the sergeant-at-arms. stockdale was also summoned, cross-examined, and committed, but to newgate. he, notwithstanding his imprisonment, continued to bring action after action; then his attorneys, through whom they were commenced, were summoned to the bar of the house, and also sent to newgate. meanwhile the sergeant-at-arms, under a writ of habeas corpus, had to produce the sheriffs at the court of queen's bench; but the judges would not release them, holding that they were legally detained. much dissatisfaction now began to show itself throughout the country, but the house of commons would not yield an inch on the question of privilege. the subject was debated night after night, and at last, to settle the matter once for all, lord john russell introduced a bill specially intended to protect all parliamentary publications, issued by either house, from any proceedings in any court of law. this was passed in due course, and the privileges of parliament were upheld. the sheriffs had already been released from custody on grounds of ill-health. an application was made for the enlargement of stockdale and his attorneys from newgate on the passing of the bill, but it was at first rejected. two months later the application was renewed, and being unopposed, the prisoners were set free. [ ] prisoners' evidence. [ ] in a sentence of death was passed on a child of nine, who had poked a stick through a patched-up pane of glass in a shop-front, and thrusting his hand through the aperture, had stolen fifteen pieces of paint, worth twopence. this was construed into house-breaking, the principal witness being another child of nine, who "told" because he had not his share of the paint. the boy was not executed. [ ] these newgate tokens were circular thin pieces of metal of various sizes. the initials or the names of a loving pair were punched upon them, together with a heart or some symbol of affection; sometimes with a motto, such as 'true for ever,' 'love for life.' the greatest value was attached to these tokens by the criminal classes. those at large constantly wore them round their necks, and treated them as amulets to preserve them from danger and detection. [ ] lord john russell, at that time home secretary. [ ] see _ante_, vol. i. cap. vi. [ ] newgate calendar. [ ] catnach's 'street literature.' [ ] 'a book for a rainy day,' p. . [ ] _ibid._ p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] governor wall had held the rank of colonel in the army when serving at goree. [ ] 'picturesque sketches of london,' by thomas miller, . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'the punishment of death in the metropolis.' e. gibbon wakefield, p. . [ ] it was the rev. peter fenn. [ ] by henry viii. cap. ( ), surgeons were granted four bodies of executed malefactors for "anathomyes," which privilege was extended in the following reign.--haydn, 'dict. of dates,' p. . [ ] sir baptist hicks also built campden house, kensington. in he was created baron hicks and viscount campden, with remainder to his daughter's children. she was the wife of lord noel, ancestor of the present earl of gainsborough. [ ] 'new monthly magazine,' , p. . [ ] this murder inspired de quincey's 'murder as one of the fine arts.' [ ] dymond, 'the law on its trial,' p. . [ ] dymond, 'the law on its trial,' p. . [ ] that of roderick maclean, . [ ] see cap. i. p. . [ ] it was said that the dinners he gave were of the most sumptuous and _recherché_ description. the story goes, that one of his most chosen friends, who attended him to the scaffold, entreated him, as on the brink of the grave, and unable to take anything out of the world with him, to reveal the secret of where some wonderful curaçoa was obtained, for which fauntleroy's cellar was famous. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] the reader will have perceived from the inspectors of prisons first report that this hope was still unfulfilled in , twelve years later. [ ] see chap. ii. p. . [ ] for abduction. see _post_, p. . [ ] at liverpool, in , there was a case of abduction, and the well-known case of mr. carden and miss arbuthnot in ireland occurred as late as . [ ] see vol. i. p. . [ ] but not quite. the warwick mail was stopped in , and robbed of £ , in bank-notes. [ ] that sound and illustrious lawyer, sir james stephen, is of opinion that the receiver of stolen goods is one of the greatest of criminals; and in his recently-published history of the criminal law he seriously recommends capital punishment for those who have been repeatedly convicted of the offence. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] erected for night watchman. [ ] _i. e._ sentence. [ ] 'times,' nov. , . [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] that of cook, for which he was tried and sentenced to death. [ ] they have since been repeated, but accompanied by more premeditation, in the case of lefroy, who murdered mr. gould in a first-class carriage on the brighton line in . [ ] evidence of lieutenant-colonel jebb, commons' committee, , ii. . [ ] none, however, equalled the enormous expenditure incurred at york, where a prison had been built some years previously, under the auspices of sydney smith, at a cost of about £ per cell. [ ] prisoners at first greatly dreaded the mask. mr. field, in his book on prison discipline, mentions a prisoner on his way to reading gaol, soon after the separate system was introduced, who jumped out of the cart at the gaol door and tried to drown himself, handcuffed as he was. his plea when rescued was that he wished to avoid the mask. * * * * * typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: quaker linendraper=> quaker linen-draper {pg } a newspaper report of the time describes fauntleroy "as a well-made=> a newspaper report of the time describes fauntleroy as "a well-made {pg } had commited suicide=> had committed suicide {pg } curious punishments of bygone days [illustration: the drunkards cloak.] _curious_ punishments _of_ bygone days, _by_ alice morse earle. the illustrations by frank hazenplug _loompanics unlimited port townsend, washington_ _originally published _ _reprinted by loompanics unlimited_ isbn - - - library of congress catalog card number - the contents i the bilboes ii the ducking stool iii the stocks iv the pillory v punishments of authors and books vi the whipping-post vii the scarlet letter viii branks and gags ix public penance x military punishments xi branding and maiming _foreword._ _in ransacking old court records, newspapers, diaries and letters for the historic foundation of the books which i have written on colonial history, i have found and noted much of interest that has not been used or referred to in any of those books. an accumulation of notes on old-time laws, punishments and penalties has evoked this volume. the subject is not a pleasant one, though it often has a humorous element; but a punishment that is obsolete gains an interest and dignity from antiquity and its history becomes endurable because it has a past only and no future. that men were pilloried and women ducked by our law-abiding forbears rouses a thrill of hot indignation which dies down into a dull ember of curiosity when we reflect that they will never be pilloried or ducked again._ _an old-time writer dedicated his book to "all curious and ingenious gentlemen and gentlewomen who can gain from acts of the past a delight in the present days of virtue, wisdom and the humanities." it does not detract from the good intent and complacency of these old words that the writer lived in the days when the pillory, stocks and whipping-post stood brutally rampant in every english village._ _now, we also boast that, as pope says:_ _"taught by time our hearts have learned to glow for others' good, and melt for others' woe."_ _and i too dedicate this book to all curious and ingenious gentlemen and gentlewomen of our own days of virtue, wisdom and the humanities; and i trust any chance reader a century hence--if such reader there be--may in turn be not too harsh in judgment on an age that had to form powerful societies and associations to prevent cruelty--not to hardened and vicious criminals--but to faithful animals and innocent children._ [illustration: laying by the heels in the bilboes.] _curious_ punishments _of_ bygone days i the bilboes there is no doubt that our far-away grandfathers, whether of english, french, dutch, scotch or irish blood, were much more afraid of ridicule than they were even of sinning, and far more than we are of extreme derision or mockery to-day. this fear and sensitiveness they showed in many ways. they were vastly touchy and resentful about being called opprobrious or bantering names; often running petulantly to the court about it and seeking redress by prosecution of the offender. and they were forever bringing suits in petty slander and libel cases. colonial court-rooms "bubbled over with scandal and gossip and spite." a creature as obsolete as his name, a "makebayt," was ever-present in the community, ever whispering slander, ever exciting contention, and often also haled to court for punishment; while his opposite, a make-peace, was everywhere sadly needed. far-seeing magistrates declared against the make-bait, as even guilty of stirring up barratry, or as judge sewall, the old boston puritan termed it, at least "gravaminous." equally with personal libel did all good citizens and all good christians fiercely resent of word, not only of derision or satire, but even of dispassionate disapproval of either government or church. a tithe of the plain-speaking criticism cheerfully endured in politics to-day would have provoked a civil war two centuries ago; while freedom of judgment or expression in religious matters was ever sharply silenced and punished in new england. that ultra-sensitiveness which made a lampoon, a jeer, a scoff, a taunt, an unbearable and inflaming offence, was of equal force when used against the men of the day in punishment for real crimes and offenses. in many--indeed, in nearly all--of the penalties and punishments of past centuries, derision, scoffing, contemptuous publicity and personal obloquy were applied to the offender or criminal by means of demeaning, degrading and helpless exposure in grotesque, insulting and painful "engines of punishment," such as the stocks, bilboes, pillory, brank, ducking-stool or jougs. thus confined and exposed to the free gibes and constant mocking of the whole community, the peculiar power of the punishment was accented. kindred in their nature and in their force were the punishments of setting on the gallows and of branding; the latter, whether in permanent form by searing the flesh, or by mutilation; or temporarily, by labeling with written placards or affixed initials. one of the earliest of these degrading engines of confinement for public exposure, to be used in punishment in this country, was the bilboes. though this instrument to "punyssche transgressours ageynste ye kinges maiesties lawes" came from old england, it was by tradition derived from bilboa. it is alleged that bilboes were manufactured there and shipped on board the spanish armada in large numbers to shackle the english prisoners so confidently expected to be captured. this occasion may have given them their wide popularity and employment; but this happened in , and in the first volume of _hakluyt's voyages_, page , dating some years earlier, reference is made to bilbous. they were a simple but effective restraint; a long heavy bolt or bar of iron having two sliding shackles, something like handcuffs, and a lock. in these shackles were thrust the legs of offenders or criminals, who were then locked in with a padlock. sometimes a chain at one end of the bilboes attached both bilboes and prisoner to the floor or wall; but this was superfluous, as the iron bar prevented locomotion. whether the spanish armada story is true or not, bilboes were certainly much used on board ship. shakespeare says in _hamlet_: "methought i lay worse than the mutines in the bilboes." in _cook's voyages_ and other sea-tales we read of "bilboo-bolts" on sailors. the massachusetts magistrates brought bilboes from england as a means of punishing refractory or sinning colonists, and they were soon in constant use. in the very oldest court records, which are still preserved, of the settlement of boston--the bay colony--appear the frequent sentences of offenders to be placed in the bilboes. the earliest entry is in the authorized record of the court held at boston on the th of august, . it reads thus: "jams woodward shall be sett in the bilbowes for being drunk at the newe-towne." "newe-towne" was the old name of cambridge. soon another colonist felt the bilboes for "selling peeces and powder and shott to the indians," ever a bitterly-abhorred and fiercely-punished crime. and another, the same year, for threatening--were he punished--he would carry the case to england, was summarily and fearlessly thrust into the bilboes. then troublesome thomas dexter, with his ever-ready tongue, was hauled up and tried on march , . here is his sentence: "thomas dexter shal be sett in the bilbowes, disfranchized, and fyned £ for speking rpchfull and seditious words agt the government here established." he also suffered in the bilboes for cursing, for "prophane saying dam ye come." thomas morton of mare-mount, that amusing old debauchee and roysterer, was sentenced to be "clapt into the bilbowes." and he says "the harmeles salvages" stared at him in wonder "like poore silly lambes" as he endured his punishment, and doubtless some of "the indesses, gay lasses in beaver coats" who had danced with him around his merry maypole and had partaken of his cask of "claret sparkling neat" sympathized with him and cheered him in his indignity. the next year another newe-towne man, being penitent, henry bright, was set in the bilboes for "swearynge." another had "sleited the magistrates in speaches." in , on april , griffin montagne "shal be sett in ye bilbowes for stealing boards and clapboards and enjoyned to move his habitacon." within a year we find offenders being punished in two places for the same offence, thus degrading them far and wide; and when in salem they were "sett in the stockes," we find always in boston that the bilboes claimed its own. women suffered this punishment as well as men. francis weston's wife and others were set in the bilboes. it is high noon in boston in the year . the hot june sun beats down on the little town, the narrow paths, the wharfs; and the sweet-fern and cedars on the common give forth a pungent dry hot scent that is wafted down to the square where stands the governor's house, the market, the church, the homes of the gentlefolk. a crowd is gathered there around some interesting object in the middle of the square; visitors from newe-towne and salem, puritan women and children, tawny indian braves in wampum and war-paint, gaily dressed sailors from two great ships lying at anchor in the bay--all staring and whispering, or jeering and biting the thumb. they are gathered around a puritan soldier, garbed in trappings of military bravery, yet in but sorry plight. for it is training day in the bay colony, and in spite of the long prayer with which the day's review began, or perhaps before that pious opening prayer, serjeant john evins has drunken too freely of old sack or alicant, and the hot sun and the sweet wine have sent him reeling from the ranks in disgrace. there he sits, sweltering in his great coat "basted with cotton-wool and thus made defensive ag't indian arrowes;" weighed down with his tin armor, a heavy corselet covering his body, a stiff gorget guarding his throat, clumsy tasses protecting his thighs, all these "neatly varnished black," and costing twenty-four shillings apiece of the town's money. over his shoulder hangs another weight, his bandelier, a strong "neat's leather" belt, carrying twelve boxes of solid cartridges and a well-filled bullet-bag; and over all and heavier than all hangs from his neck--as of lead--the great letter d. still from his wrist dangles his wooden gun-rest, but his "bastard musket with a snaphance" lies with his pike degraded in the dust. the serjeant does not move at the jeers of the sailors, nor turn away from the wondering stare of the savages--he cannot move, he cannot turn away, for his legs are firmly set in the strong iron bilboes which john winthrop sternly brought from england to the new land. poor john evins! your head aches from the fumes of the cloying sack, your legs ache from the bonds of the clogging bilboes, your body aches from the clamps of your trumpery armor, but you will have to sit there in distress and in obloquy till acerb old john norton, the pious puritan preacher, will come "to chide" you, as is his wont, to point out to your fellow-citizens and to visitors your sinful fall, the disgracing bilboes, and the great letter that brands you as a drunkard. the decade of life of the boston bilboes was soon to end, it was to be "laid flat," as sir matthew hale would say; a rival entered the field. in edward palmer made for boston with "planks and woodwork," a pair of stocks. planks and woodwork were plentiful everywhere in the new world, and iron and ironworkers at first equally scarce; so stocks soon were seen in every town, and the bilboes were disused, sold perhaps for old iron, wherein they again did good service. in virginia the bilboes had a short term of use in the earliest years of the settlement; the provost-marshal had a fee of ten shillings for "laying by the heels;" and he was frequently employed; but there, also, stocks and pillory proved easier of construction and attainment. i would not be over-severe upon the bilboes in their special use in those early colonial settlements. there had to be some means of restraint of vicious and lawless folk, of hindering public nuisances, and a prison could not be built in a day; the bilboes seemed an easy settlement of the difficulty, doing effectually with one iron bar what a prison cell does with many. it was not their use, but their glare of publicity that was offensive. they were ever placed on offenders in the marketplace, in front of the meeting house on lecture day, on market day; not to keep prisoners in lonely captivity but in public obloquy; and as has here been cited, for what appear to us to-day slight offenses. [illustration: the ducking-stool] ii the ducking stool the ducking stool seems to have been placed on the lowest and most contempt-bearing stage among english instruments of punishment. the pillory and stocks, the gibbet, and even the whipping-post, have seen many a noble victim, many a martyr. but i cannot think any save the most ignoble criminals ever sat in a ducking-stool. in all the degrading and cruel indignities offered the many political and religious offenders in england under the varying rules of both church and state, through the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the ducking-stool played no part and secured no victims. it was an engine of punishment specially assigned to scolding women; though sometimes kindred offenders, such as slanderers, "makebayts," "chyderers," brawlers, railers, and women of light carriage also suffered through it. though gruff old sam johnson said to a gentle quaker lady: "madam, we have different modes of restraining evil--stocks for men, a ducking-stool for women, and a pound for beasts;" yet men as well as women-scolds were punished by being set in the ducking-stool, and quarrelsome married couples were ducked, tied back-to-back. the last person set in the rugby ducking-stool was a brutal husband who had beaten his wife. brewers of bad beer and bakers of bad bread were deemed of sufficiently degraded ethical standing to be ducked. unruly paupers also were thus subdued. that intelligent french traveler, misson, who visited england about the year , and who left in his story of his travels so much valuable and interesting information of the england of that day, gives this lucid description of a ducking-stool: "the way of punishing scolding women is pleasant enough. they fasten an armchair to the end of two beams twelve or fifteen feet long, and parallel to each other, so that these two pieces of wood with their two ends embrace the chair, which hangs between them by a sort of axle, by which means it plays freely, and always remains in the natural horizontal position in which a chair should be, that a person may sit conveniently in it, whether you raise it or let it down. they set up a post on the bank of a pond or river, and over this post they lay, almost in equilibrio, the two pieces of wood, at one end of which the chair hangs just over the water. they place the woman in this chair and so plunge her into the water as often as the sentence directs, in order to cool her immoderate heat." the adjectives pleasant and convenient as applied to a ducking-stool would scarcely have entered the mind of any one but a frenchman. still the chair itself was sometimes rudely ornamented. the cambridge stool was carved with devils laying hold of scolds. others were painted with appropriate devices such as a man and woman scolding. two plymouth ducking-stools still preserved are of wrought iron of good design. the sandwich ducking-stool bore the motto: "of members ye tonge is worst or beste an yll tonge oft doth breede unreste." we read in blackstone's _commentaries_: "a common scold may be indicted, and if convicted shall be sentenced to be placed in a certain engine of correction called the trebucket, castigatory, or ducking-stool." the trebuchet, or trebucket, was a stationary and simple form of a ducking machine consisting of a short post set at the water's edge with a long beam resting on it like a see-saw; by a simple contrivance it could be swung round parallel to the bank, and the culprit tied in the chair affixed to one end. then she could be swung out over the water and see-sawed up and down into the water. when this machine was not in use, it was secured to a stump or bolt in the ground by a padlock, because when left free it proved too tempting and convenient an opportunity for tormenting village children to duck each other. a tumbrel, or scold's-cart, was a chair set on wheels and having very long wagon-shafts, with a rope attached to them about two feet from the end. when used it was wheeled into a pond backward, the long shafts were suddenly tilted up, and the scold sent down in a backward plunge into the water. when the ducking was accomplished, the tumbrel was drawn out of the water by the ropes. collinson says in his _history of somersetshire_, written in : "in shipton mallet was anciently set up a tumbrel for the correction of unquiet women." other names for a like engine were gumstool and coqueen-stool. many and manifold are the allusions to the ducking-stool in english literature. in a volume called _miscellaneous poems_, written by benjamin west and published in , is a descriptive poem entitled _the ducking-stool_, which runs thus: "there stands, my friend, in yonder pool an engine called the ducking-stool; by legal power commanded down the joy and terror of the town. if jarring females kindle strife, give language foul, or lug the coif, if noisy dames should once begin to drive the house with horrid din, away, you cry, you'll grace the stool; we'll teach you how your tongue to rule. the fair offender fills the seat in sullen pomp, profoundly great; down in the deep the stool descends, but here, at first, we miss our ends; she mounts again and rages more than ever vixen did before. so, throwing water on the fire will make it but burn up the higher. if so, my friend, pray let her take a second turn into the lake, and, rather than your patience lose, thrice and again repeat the dose. no brawling wives, no furious wenches, no fire so hot but water quenches." in scotland "flyting queans" sat in ignominy in cucking-stools. bessie spens was admonished: "gif she be found flyteing with any neighbour, man or wife, and specially gains jonet arthe, she shall be put on the cuck-stule and sit there twenty-four hours." a worthless fellow, sande hay, "for troublance made upon andro watson, is discernit for his demerits to be put in the cuck-stule, there to remain till four hours after noon." the length of time of punishment--usually twenty-four hours--would plainly show there was no attendant ducking; and this cuck-stool, or cucking-stool, must not be confounded with the ducking-stool, which dates to the days of edward the confessor. the cuck-stool was simply a strong chair in which an offender was fastened, thus to be hooted at or pelted at by the mob. sometimes, when placed on a tumbrel, it was used for ducking. at the time of the colonization of america the ducking-stool was at the height of its english reign; and apparently the amiability of the lower classes was equally at ebb. the colonists brought their tempers to the new land, and they brought their ducking-stools. many minor and some great historians of this country have called the ducking-stool a puritan punishment. i have never found in the hundreds of pages of court records that i have examined a single entry of an execution of ducking in any puritan community; while in the "cavalier colonies," so called, in virginia and the carolinas, and in quaker pennsylvania, many duckings took place, and in law survived as long as similar punishments in england. in the statute books of virginia from dale's time onward many laws may be found designed to silence idle tongues by ducking. one reads: "whereas oftentimes many brabling women often slander and scandalize their neighbours, for which their poore husbands are often brought into chargeable and vexatious suits and cast in great damages, be it enacted that all women found guilty be sentenced to ducking." others dated are most explicit. "the court in every county shall cause to be set up near a court house a pillory, a pair of stocks, a whipping post and a ducking-stool in such place as they think convenient, which not being set up within six month after the date of this act the said court shall be fined , lbs. of tobacco. "in actions of slander caused by a man's wife, after judgment past for damages, the woman shall be punished by ducking, and if the slander be such as the damages shall be adjudged as above lbs. of tobacco, then the woman shall have ducking for every lbs. of tobacco adjudged against the husband if he refuse to pay the tobacco." the fee of a sheriff or constable for ducking was twenty pounds of tobacco. _the american historical record_, vol. i, gives a letter said to have been written to governor endicott, of massachusetts, in , by one thomas hartley, from hungars parish, virginia. it gives a graphic description of a ducking-stool, and an account of a ducking in virginia. i quote from it: "the day afore yesterday at two of ye clock in ye afternoon i saw this punishment given to one betsey wife of john tucker who by ye violence of her tongue has made his house and ye neighborhood uncomfortable. she was taken to ye pond near where i am sojourning by ye officer who was joined by ye magistrate and ye minister mr. cotton who had frequently admonished her and a large number of people. they had a machine for ye purpose yt belongs to ye parish, and which i was so told had been so used three times this summer. it is a platform with small rollers or wheels and two upright posts between which works a lever by a rope fastened to its shorter or heavier end. at ye end of ye longer arm is fixed a stool upon which sd betsey was fastened by cords, her gown tied fast around her feete. the machine was then moved up to ye edge of ye pond, ye rope was slackened by ye officer and ye woman was allowed to go down under ye water for ye space of half a minute. betsey had a stout stomach, and would not yield until she had allowed herself to be ducked several times. at length she cried piteously, let me go let me go, by god's help i'll sin no more. then they drew back ye machine, untied ye ropes and let her walk home in her wetted clothes a hopefully penitent woman." bishop meade, in his _old churches, ministers and families of virginia_, tells of a "scolding quean" who was ordered to be ducked three times from the yard arm of a vessel lying in james river. a woman in northampton county, virginia, suffered a peculiarly degrading punishment for slander. in the lack of a ducking-stool she was "drawen ouer the kings creeke at the starne of a boate or canoux, also the next saboth day in the time of diuine seruise" was obliged to present herself before the minister and congregation, and acknowledge her fault and beg forgiveness. from the _decisions of virginia general court_ now being printed by the virginia historical society, we learn of one margaret jones that at a court held at "james-citty" on the th of october, : "for ye severall offences aforenamed, of ye said margaret jones, yt shee bee toughed or dragged at a boats starne in ye river from ye shoare unto the margaret & john and thence unto the shoare againe." toughed would seem a truly appropriate word for this ordeal. the provost marshal's fees decreed by this court at this time were ten shillings "for punishing any _man_ by ducking." in two women were sentenced to be either drawn from king's creek "from one cowpen to another at the starn of a boat or kanew," or to present themselves before the congregation and ask public forgiveness of each other and god. in it was ordered that a ducking-stool be built in every county in maryland, but i have no proof that they were ever built or used, though it is probable they were. at a court-baron at st. clements, the county was prosecuted for not having one of these "public conveniences." half a century elapsed after the settlement of massachusetts ere that commonwealth ordered a ducking-stool. on the th of may, , while richard bellingham was governor, the court at massachusetts bay passed this law: "whereas there is no expresse punishment by any law hitherto established affixed to the evill practise of sundry persons by exorbitancy of the tonge in rayling and scolding, it is therefore ordered, that all such persons convicted, before any court or magistrate that hath propper cognizance of the cause for rayling or scolding, shalbe gagged or sett in a ducking stoole & dipt ouer head & eares three times in some convenient place of fresh or salt water as the court or magistrate shall judge meete." governor bellingham's sister was a notorious scold, who suffered death as a witch. john dunton, writing from boston in , does not note the presence of a ducking-stool, but says: "scolds they gag and set them at their own doors for certain hours together, for all comers and goers to gaze at; were this a law in england and well executed it wou'd in a little time prove an effectual remedy to cure the noise that is in many women's heads." this was a law well-executed at the time in scotland, though dunton was ignorant of it. there are no entries to show that the law authorizing ducking ever was executed in massachusetts nor in maine, where a dozen towns--kittery, york and others--were fined for "having no coucking-stool." it was ordered on long island that every court of sessions should have a ducking-stool; but nothing exists in their records to prove that the order was ever executed, or any long island woman ducked; nor is there proof that there was in new york city a ducking-stool, though orders were issued for one; a lutheran minister of that city excused himself for striking a woman who angered him by her "scholding" because she was not punished by law therefor. pennsylvania, mild with the thees and thous of non-belligerent quakers, did not escape scolding women. in the common council of philadelphia ordered a ducking-stool to be built. in it was still lacking, and still desired, and still necessary. "whereas it has been frequently and often presented by several former grand jurys for this city the necessity of a ducking-stool and house of correction for the just punishment of scolding drunken women, as well as divers other profligate and unruly persons in this town who are become a publick nuisance and disturbance to the town in generall, therefore we the present grand jury do earnestly again present the same to the court of quarter sessions for the city desireing their immediate care that these public conveniances may not be any longer delay'd but with all possible speed provided for the detention and quieting such disorderly persons." for several years later the magistrates clamored for a ducking-stool, and the following indictment was brought against an unruly woman: "city of philadelphia. we the grand inquest for our lord the king upon respective oaths and affirmations do present that mary wife of john austin late of philadelphia, cordwainer, the twenty-ninth day of september and divers other days and times as well before as after in the high city ward in the city afforsd within the jurisdiction of this court was and yet is a common scold, and the peace of our lord the king a common and publick disturber, and strife and debate among her neighbours a comon sower and mover, to the great disburbance of the leige subjects of our sd lord the king inhabiting the city afforsd, and to the evill example of other such cases & delinquents and also agt the peace of our lord the king his crown and dignity." as late as a philadelphia scold was sentenced by this same court of sessions to be ducked; but the punishment was not inflicted, as it was deemed obsolete and contrary to the spirit of the time. in a ducking-school was ordered at the confluence of the ohio and monongahela rivers--and doubtless it was erected and used. in the year , at the supreme court at milledgeville, georgia, one "miss palmer," who, the account says, "seems to have been rather glib on the tongue," was indicted, tried, convicted and punished for scolding, by being publicly ducked in the oconee river. the editor adds: "numerous spectators attended the execution of the sentence." eight years later the grand jury of burke county, of the same state, presented mary cammell as a "common scold and disturber of the peacable inhabitants of the county." the _augusta chronicle_ says this of the indictment: "we do not know the _penalty_, or if there be any, attached to the offense of _scolding_; but for the information of our burke neighbours we would inform them that the late lamented and distinguished judge early decided, some years since, when a modern xantippe was brought before him, that she should undergo the _punishment of lustration_ by immersion three several times in the _oconee_. accordingly she was confined to the tail of a cart, and, accompanied by the hooting of a mob, conducted to the river, where she was publicly ducked, in conformity with the sentence of the court. should this punishment be accorded mary cammell, we hope, however, it may be attended with a more salutary effect than in the case we have just alluded to--the unruly subject of which, each time as she rose from the watery element, impiously exclaimed, with a ludicrous gravity of countenance, 'glory to god.'" it is doubtful whether these georgia duckings were done with a regularly constructed ducking-stool; the cart was probably run down into the water. one of the latest, and certainly the most notorious sentences to ducking was that of mrs. anne royal, of washington, d. c., almost in our own day. this extraordinary woman had lived through an eventful career in love and adventure; she had been stolen by the indians when a child, and kept by them fifteen years; then she was married to captain royall, and taught to read and write. she traveled much, and wrote several vituperatively amusing books. she settled down upon washington society as editor of a newspaper called the "washington paul pry" and of another, the "huntress"; and she soon terrorized the place. no one in public office was spared, either in personal or printed abuse, if any offense or neglect was given to her. a persistent lobbyist, she was shunned like the plague by all congressmen. john quincy adams called her an itinerant virago. she was arraigned as a common scold before judge william cranch, and he sentenced her to be ducked in the potomac river. she was, however, released with a fine, and appears to us to-day to have been insane--possibly through over-humored temper. [illustration: the stocks.] iii the stocks one of the earliest institutions in every new england community was a pair of stocks. the first public building was a meeting-house, but often before any house of god was builded, the devil got his restraining engine. it was a true english punishment, and to a degree, a scotch; and was of most ancient date. in the _cambridge trinity college psalter_, an illuminated manuscript illustrating the manners of the twelfth century, may be seen the quaint pictures of two men sitting in stocks, while two others flout them. so essential to due order and government were the stocks that every village had them. sometimes they were movable and often were kept in the church porch, a sober sunday monitor. shakespeare says in king lear: "fetch forth the stocks you stubborn ancient knave!" in england, petty thieves, unruly servants, wife-beaters, hedge-tearers, vagrants, sabbath-breakers, revilers, gamblers, drunkards, ballad-singers, fortune-tellers, traveling musicians and a variety of other offenders, were all punished by the stocks. doubtless the most notable person ever set in the stocks for drinking too freely was that great man, cardinal wolsey. about the year he was the incumbent at lymington, and getting drunk at a village feast, he was seen by sir amyas poulett, a strict moralist, and local justice of the peace, who humiliated the embryo cardinal by thrusting him in the stocks. the boston magistrates had a "pair of bilbowes" doubtless brought from england; but these were only temporary, and soon stocks were ordered. it is a fair example of the humorous side of puritan law so frequently and unwittingly displayed that the first malefactor set in these strong new stocks was the carpenter who made them: "edward palmer for his extortion in taking £ , s., d. for the plank and woodwork of boston stocks is fyned £ & censured to bee sett an houre in the stocks." thus did our ancestors make the "punishment fit the crime." it certainly was rather a steep charge, for carpenter robert bartlett of new london made not long after "a pair of stocks with nine holes fitted for the irons," and only charged thirteen shillings and fourpence for his work. the carpenter of shrewsbury, massachusetts, likewise, as pepys said of a new pair of stocks in his neighborhood, took handsel of the stocks of his own making. in virginia a somewhat kindred case was that of one mr. henry charlton of hungar's parish in . for slandering the minister, mr. cotton, charlton was ordered "to make a pair of stocks and set in them several sabbath days after divine service, and then ask mr. cotton's forgiveness for using offensive words concerning him." in maryland in another case may be cited. one william bramhall having been convicted of signing a rebellious petition, was for a second offense of like nature ordered to be "at the charge of building a pair of stocks and see it finished within one month." there is no reference to his punishment through the stocks of his own manufacture. with a regard for the comfort of the criminal strangely at variance with what cotton mather termed "the gust of the age," and a profound submission to new england climate, a massachusetts law, enacted june , , declares that "he yt offens in excessive and longe drinkinge, he shalbe sett in the stocks for three howers _when the weather is seasonable_." just as soon as the boston stocks had been well warmed by carpenter palmer they promptly started on a well-filled career of usefulness. they gathered in james luxford, who had been "psented for having two wifes." he had to pay a fine of £ and be set in the stocks one hour upon the following market-day after lecture, and on the next lecture-day also, where he could be plainly seen by every maid and widow in the little town, that there might be no wife number three. then a watchman of the town, "for drinking several times of strong waters," took his turn. soon a man for "uncivil carriages" was "stocked." every town was enjoined to build stocks. in medfield had stocks, and in newbury and concord were fined for "the want of stocks," and newbury was given time till the next court session to build them. the town obeyed the order, and soon john perry was set in them for his "abusive carriage to his wife and child." dedham and watertown were "psent'd" in for "the want of stocks." ipswich already had them, for john wedgwood that same year was set in the stocks simply for being in the company of drunkards. in yarmouth, a thief who stole flax and yarn, and in rehoboth, one who stole an indian child, were "stocked." portsmouth, new hampshire, built stocks and a cage. plymouth had a constant relay of quakers to keep her stocks from ever lying idle, as well as other offenders, such as ann savory, of unsavory memory. rhode island ordered "good sufficient stocks" in every town. in the southern and central colonies the stocks were a constant force. the dutch favored the pillory and whipping-post, but a few towns had stocks. we find the heer officer in beverwyck (albany) dispensing justice in a most summary manner. when martin de metslaer wounded another in a drunken brawl, the authorities hunted martin up, "early hauled him out of bed and set him in the stocks." connecticut was a firm advocate of the stocks, and plentiful examples might be given under new haven and connecticut laws. web adey, who was evidently a "single-man," for "two breaches of the saboth" was ordered to be set in the stocks, then to find a master, and if not complying with this second order the town would find one for him and sell him for a term of service. this was the arbitrary and not unusual method of disposing of lazy, lawless and even lonely men, as well as of more hardened criminals, who, when sold for a term of service, usually got into fresh disgrace and punishment through disobedience, idleness and running away. i do not find many sentences of women to be set in the stocks. jane boulton of plymouth was stocked for reviling the magistrates; one of her neighbors sat in the stocks and watched her husband take a flogging. goody gregory of springfield in , being grievously angered by a neighbor, profanely abused her, saying "before god i could break thy head." she acknowledged her "great sine and fault" like a woman, but she paid her fine and sat in the stocks like a man, since she swore like one. and it should be noted that the stocks were not for the punishment of _gentlemen_, they were thoroughly plebeian. the pillory was aristocratic in comparison, as was also branding with a hot iron. fiercely hedged around was divine worship. the stocks added their restraint by threatened use. "all persons who stand out of the meeting-house during time of service, to be set in the stocks." in plymouth in "all persons being without the dores att the meeting house on the lords daies in houres of exercise, demeaneing themselves by jesting, sleeping, and the like, if they shall psist in such practices hee (the tithing-man) shall sett them in the stocks." regard for church and state were often combined by making public confession of sin in church with punishment in front of the church after the service. this was simply a carrying out of english customs. mr. hamilton, author of that interesting book, _quarter sessions from queen elizabeth to queen anne_, says, dealing with devonshire: "a favorite punishment for small offenses, such as resisting the constable, was the stocks. the offender had to come into the church at morning prayer, and say publicly that he was sorry; he was then set in the stocks until the end of the evening prayer. the punishment was generally repeated on the next market-day." it seems scarcely necessary to describe the shape and appearance of stocks, for pictures of them are so common. they were formed by two heavy timbers the upper one of which could be raised, and when lowered, was held in place by a lock. in these two timbers were cut two half-circle notches which met two similar notches when the upper timber was in place and thus formed round holes, holding firmly in place the legs of the imprisoned culprit; sometimes the arms were thrust into smaller holes similarly formed. usually, however, the culprit sat on a low bench with simply his legs confined. thus securely restrained, he was powerless to escape the jests and jeers of every idler in the community. the stocks were the scene of many striking figures, and many amusing ones; what a sight was that when an english actor who had caused the playing of the midsummer-night's dream in the very house of the bishop of lincoln, and on sunday, too, was set in stocks at the bishop's gate with an ass's head beside him and a wisp of hay--in derision of the part he had played, that of bottom the weaver. this in --after both plymouth and boston had been settled. and the stocks were not without their farcical side in new england. governor winthrop's account of the exploits of a boston dogberry in is certainly amusing. "there fell out a troublesome business in boston. an english sailor happened to be drunk, and was carried to his lodging, and the constable (a godly man and much zealous against such disorders), hearing of it, found him out, being upon his bed asleep, so he awaked him, and led him to the stocks, no magistrate being at home. he being in the stocks, one of la tour's french gentlemen visitors in boston lifted up the stocks and let him out. the constable, hearing of it, went to the frenchman (being then gone and quiet) and would needs carry _him_ to the stocks. the frenchman offered to yield himself to go to prison, but the constable, not understanding his language pressed him to go to the stocks: the frenchman resisted and drew his sword; with that company came in and disarmed him, and carried him by force to the stocks, but soon after the constable took him out and carried him to prison, and presently after, took him forth again, and delivered him to la tour. much tumult was there about this: many frenchmen were in town, and other strangers, who were not satisfied with this dealing of the constable yet were quiet. in the morning the magistrate examined the cause, and sent for la tour, who was much grieved for his servant's miscarriage, and also for the disgrace put upon him (for in france it is a most ignominious thing to be laid in the stocks), but yet he complained not of any injury, but left him wholly with the magistrates to do with him what they pleased, etc. ... the constable was the occasion of all this transgressing the bounds of his office, and that in six things. . in fetching a man out of his lodging that was asleep upon his bed, and without any warrant from authority. . in not putting a hook upon the stocks, nor setting some to guard them. . in laying hands upon the frenchman that had opened the stocks when he was gone and quiet. . in carrying him to prison without warrant. . in delivering him out of prison without warrant. . in putting such a reproach upon a stranger and a gentleman when there was no need, for he knew he would be forthcoming and the magistrate would be at home that evening; but such are the fruits of ignorant and misguided zeal.... but the magistrates thought not convenient to lay these things to the constable's charge before the assembly, but rather to admonish him for it in private, lest they should have discouraged and discountenanced an honest officer." truly this is a striking and picturesque scene in colonial life, one worthy of hogarth's pencil. the bronzed english sailor, inflamed with drink, ear-ringed, pigtailed, with short, wide, flapping trousers and brave with sash and shining cutlass; the gay, volatile frenchman, in the beautiful and courtly dress of his day and nation, all laces and falbalas; and the solemn pragmatic puritan tipstaff, with long wand of black and white, and horn lanthorn, with close-cropped head, sad-colored in garments, severe of feature, zealous in duty; and the spectators standing staring at the stocks; indian stragglers, fair puritan maidens, fierce sailor-men, a pious preacher or sober magistrate--no lack of local color in that picture. it is interesting to note in all the colonies the attempt to exterminate all idle folk and idle ways. the severity of the penalties were so salutary in effect, that as mrs. goodwin says in her _colonial cavalier_, they soon would have exterminated even that social pest, the modern tramp. vagrants, and those who were styled "transients," were fiercely abhorred and cruelly spurned. i have found by comparison of town records that they were often whipped from town to town, only to be thrust forth in a few weeks with fresh stripes to another grudged resting place. such entries as this of the town of westerly, rhode island, might be produced in scores: "september , . that the officer shall take the said transient forthwith to some publick place in this town and strip him from the waist upward, & whyp him twenty strypes well layd on his naked back, and then be by said officer transported out of this town." the appearance of crime likewise had to be avoided. in thomas petet "for suspition of slander, idleness and stubbornness is to be severely whipt and kept in hold." more shocking and still more summary was the punishment meted out to a frenchman who was _suspected_ only of setting fire to boston in the year . he was ordered to stand in the pillory, have both ears cut off, pay the charges of the court, and lie in prison in bonds of five hundred pounds until sentence was performed. these massachusetts magistrates were not the only ones to sentence punishment on suspicion. in scotland one richardson, a tailor, being "accusit of pickrie," or pilfering, was adjudged to be punished with "twelve straiks with ane double belt, because there could be nae sufficient proof gotten, but vehement suspition." writing of punishments of bygone days, an english rhymester says: "each mode has served its turn, and played a part for good or ill with man; but while the bane of drunkenness corrupts the nation's heart-- discrediting our age--methinks the reign of stocks, at least, were well revived again." there is, in truth, a certain fitness in setting in the stocks for drunkenness; a firm confining of the wandering uncertain legs; a fixing in one spot for quiet growing sober, and meditating on the misery of drunkenness, a fitness that with the extreme of publicity removed, or the wantonness of the spectators curbed, perhaps would not be so bad a restraining punishment after all. some of the greatness and self-control of the later years of cardinal wolsey's life may have come from those hours of mortification and meditation spent in the stocks. and over the stocks might be set "a paper" as of yore, bearing in capital letters the old epitaph found in solemn warning of eternity on many an ancient tombstone but literally applicable in this temporal matter. "all ye who see the state of me think of the glass that runs for thee." iv the pillory hawthorne says in his immortal _scarlet letter_: "this scaffold constituted a portion of a penal machine which now, for two or three generations past, has been merely historical or traditionary among us, but was held in the old time to be as effectual in the promotion of good citizenship as ever was the guillotine among the terrorists of france. it was, in short, the platform of the pillory; and above it rose the framework of that instrument of discipline, so fashioned as to confine the human head in its tight grasp, and thus hold it up to the public gaze. the very ideal of ignominy was embodied and made manifest in this contrivance of wood and iron. there can be no outrage, methinks--against our common nature--whatever be the delinquencies of the individual--no outrage more flagrant than to forbid the culprit to hide his face for shame." [illustration: the pillory.] this "essence of punishment"--the pillory or stretch-neck--can be traced back to a remote period in england and on the continent--certainly to the twelfth century. in its history, tragedy and comedy are equally blended; and martyrdom and obloquy are alike combined. seen in a prominent position in every village and town, its familiarity of presence was its only retrieving characteristic; near church-yard and in public square was it ever found; local authorities forfeited the right to hold a market unless they had a pillory ready for use. a description of a pillory is not necessary to one who has read any illustrated history of the english church, of the quakers, dissenters, or of the english people; for the rude prints of political and religious sufferers in the pillory have been often reproduced. douce, in his _illustrations of shakespeare_ gives six different forms of the pillory. it was an upright board, hinged or divisible in twain, with a hole in which the head was set fast, and usually with two openings also for the hands. often the ears were nailed to the wood on either side of the head-hole. examples exist of a small finger-pillory or thumb-stocks, but are rare. it would be impossible to enumerate the offences for which englishmen were pilloried: among them were treason, sedition, arson, blasphemy, witch-craft, perjury, wife-beating, cheating, forestalling, forging, coin-clipping, tree-polling, gaming, dice-cogging, quarrelling, lying, libelling, slandering, threatening, conjuring, fortune-telling, "prigging," drunkenness, impudence. one man was set in the pillory for delivering false dinner invitations; another for a rough practical joke; another for selling an injurious quack medicine. all sharpers, beggars, impostors, vagabonds, were liable to be pilloried. so fierce sometimes was the attack of the populace with various annoying and heavy missiles on pilloried prisoners that several deaths are known to have ensued. on the other side, it is told in chamber's _book of days_ that a prisoner, by the sudden collapse of a rotten footboard, was left hanging by his neck in danger of his life. on being liberated he brought action against the town and received damages. the pillory in england has seen many a noble victim. the history of puritanism, of reformation, is filled with hundreds of pages of accounts of sufferings on the pillory. when such names as those of leighton, prynne, lilburne, burton and bastwick appear as thus being punished we do not think of the pillory as a scaffold for felons, but as a platform for heroes. who can read unmoved that painful, that pathetic account of the punishment of dr. bastwick. his weeping wife stood on a stool and kissed his poor pilloried face, and when his ears were cut off she placed them in a clean handkerchief and took them away, with emotions unspeakable and undying love. de foe said, in his famous _hymn to the pillory_: "tell us, great engine, how to understand or reconcile the justice of this land; how bastwick, prynne, hunt, hollingsby and pye-- men of unspotted honesty-- men that had learning, wit and sense, and more than most men have had since, could equal title to thee claim with oates and fuller, men of fouler fame." lecture-day, as affording in new england, in the pious community, the largest gathering of reproving spectators, was the day chosen in preference for the performance of public punishment by the pillory. hawthorne says of the thursday lecture: "the tokens of its observance are of a questionable cast. it is in one sense a day of public shame; the day on which transgressors who have made themselves liable to the minor severities of the puritan law receive their reward of ignominy." thus nicholas olmstead, in connecticut, is to "stand on the pillory at hartford the next lecture-day." he was to be "sett on a lytle before the beginning and to stay thereon a lytle after the end." the disgrace of the pillory clung, though the offence punished was not disgraceful. thus in the year a citizen of braintree, william veasey, was set in the pillory for ploughing on a thanksgiving day, which had been appointed in gratitude for the escape of king william from assassination. the stiff old braintree rebel declared that james ii was his rightful king. five years later veasey was elected a member of the general court, but was not permitted to serve as he had been in the pillory. throughout the massachusetts jurisdiction the pillory was in use. in one mr. thomas withers for "surriptisiously endeavoring to prevent the providence of god by putting in several votes for himself as an officer at a town meeting" was ordered to stand two hours in the pillory at york, maine. shortly after (for he was an ingenious rogue) he was similarly punished for "an irregular way of contribution," for putting large sums of money into the contribution box in meeting to induce others to give largely, and then again "surriptisiously" taking his gift back again. there was no offense in the southern colonies more deplored, more reprobated, more legislated against than what was known as "ingrossing, forestalling, or regrating." this was what would to-day be termed a brokerage or speculative sale, such as buying a cargo about to arrive, and selling at retail, buying a large quantity of any goods in a market to re-sell, or any form of huckstering. its prevalence was held to cause dearth, famine and despair; english "regratours" and forestallers were frequently pilloried. even in _piers plowman_ we read: "for these aren men on this molde that moste harm worcheth, to the pore peple that parcel-mele buyggen thei rychen thorow regraterye." the state archives of maryland are full of acts and resolves about forestallers, etc., and severe punishments were decreed. it was, in truth, the curse of that colony. all our merchandise brokers to-day would in those days have been liable to be thrust in prison or pillory. in the year i learn from the maryland archives that one john goneere, for perjury, was "nayled by both eares to the pillory nailes in each eare and the nailes to be slitt out, and whipped good lashes." the same year blanch howell wilfully, unsolicited and unasked, committed perjury. the "sd blanche shall stand nayled in the pillory and loose both her eares." both those sentences were "exequuted." in new york the pillory was used. under dutch rule, mesaack maartens, accused of stealing cabbages from jansen, the ship-carpenter living on _'t maagde paatje_, was sentenced to stand in the pillory with cabbages on his head. truly this was a striking sight. dishonest bakers were set in the pillory with dough on their heads. at the trial of this mesaack maartens, he was tortured to make him confess. other criminals in new york bore torture; a sailor--wrongfully, as was proven--a woman, for stealing stockings. at the time of the slave riots cruel tortures were inflicted. yet to massachusetts, under the excitement and superstition caused by that tragedy in new england history, the witchcraft trials, is forever accorded the disgrace that one of her citizens was pressed to death, one giles corey. the story of his death is too painful for recital. mr. channing wrote an interesting account of the newport of the early years of this century. he says of crimes and criminals in that town at that time: "the public modes of punishment established by law were four, viz.: executions by hanging, whipping of men at the cart-tail, whipping of women in the jail-yard, and the elevation of counterfeiters and the like to a movable pillory, which turned on its base so as to front north, south, east and west in succession, remaining at each point a quarter of an hour. during this execution of the majesty of the law the neck of the culprit was bent to a most uncomfortable curve, presenting a facial mark for those salutations of stale eggs which seemed to have been preserved for the occasion. the place selected for the infliction of this punishment was in front of the state house." a conviction and sentence in newport in was thus reported in the daily newspapers, among others the _essex gazette_ of april : "william carlisle was convicted of passing counterfeit dollars, and sentenced to stand one hour in the pillory on little-rest hill, next friday, to have both ears cropped, to be branded on both cheeks with the letter r, to pay a fine of one hundred dollars and cost of prosecution, and to stand committed till sentence performed." severe everywhere were the punishments awarded to counterfeiters. the continental bills bore this line: "to counterfeit this bill is death." in jeremiah dexter of walpole, for passing on two counterfeit dollars, "knowing them to be such," stood in the pillory for an hour; another rogue, for the same offense, had his ears cropped. mr. samuel breck, speaking of methods of punishment in his boyhood in boston, in , said: "a little further up state street was to be seen the pillory with three or four fellows fastened by the head and hands, and standing for an hour in that helpless posture, exposed to gross and cruel jeers from the multitude, who pelted them constantly with rotten eggs and every repulsive kind of garbage that could be collected." instances of punishment in boston by the pillory of both men and women are many. in the _boston post-boy_ of february, , i read: "boston, january .--at the superiour court held at charlestown last week, samuel bacon of bedford, and meriam fitch wife of benjamin fitch of said bedford, were convicted of being notorious cheats, and of having by fraud, craft and deceit, possess'd themselves of fifteen hundred johannes the property of a third person; were sentenced to be each of them set in the pillory one hour, with a paper on each of their breasts and the words a cheat wrote in capitals thereon, to suffer three months' imprisonment, and to be bound to their good behaviour for one year and to pay costs." from the _boston chronicle_, november , : "we learn from worcester that on the eighth instant one lindsay stood in the pillory there one hour, after which he received stripes at the public whipping-post, and was then branded in the hand his crime was forgery." the use of the pillory in new england extended into this century. on the th of january, , one hawkins, for the crime of forgery, stood for an hour in a pillory in salem, and had his ears cropped. the pillory was in use in boston, certainly as late as . in march of that year the brigantine "hannah" was criminally sunk at sea by its owner robert pierpont and its master h. r. story, to defraud the underwriters. the two criminals were sentenced after trial to stand one hour in the pillory in state street on two days, be confined in prison for two years and pay the costs of the prosecution. as this case was termed "a transaction exceeding in infamy all that has hitherto appeared in the commerce of our country," this sentence does not seem severe. the pillory lingered long in england. lord thurlow was eloquent in its defence, calling it "the restraint against licentiousness provided by the wisdom of past ages." in lord ellenborough, equally warm in his approval and endorsement, sentenced a blasphemer to the pillory for two hours, once each month, for eighteen months; and in he ordered lord cochrane, the famous sea-fighter of brasque roads fame, to be set in the pillory for spreading false news. but sir francis burdett declared he would stand on the pillory by lord cochrane's side, and public opinion was more powerful than the judge. by this time the pillory was rarely used save in cases of perjury. as late as a man was pilloried for that crime. in the pillory was ordered to be abandoned, by act of parliament; and in it was abolished in france. [illustration: the burning of books] v punishments of authors and books the punishments of authors deserve a separate chapter; for since the days of greece and rome their woes have been many. the burning of condemned books begun in those ancient states. in the days of augustus no less than twenty thousand volumes were consumed; among them, all the works of labienus, who, in despair thereat, refused food, pined and died. his friend cassius severus, when he heard sentence pronounced, cried out in a loud voice that they must burn him also if they wished the books to perish, as he knew them all by heart. the bible fed the flames by order of dioclesian. and in england the public hangman warmed his marrow at both literary and religious flames. bishop stockesly caused all the new testament of tindal's translation to be openly burnt in st. paul's churchyard. on august , , milton's books were burnt by the hangman; marlow's translations kept company. these vicarious sufferings were as nothing in the recital of the author's woes, for the sight of an author or a publisher with his ear nailed to a pillory was too common to be widely noted, for anyone who printed without permission could, by the law of the land, be thus treated; when the author was released, if his bleeding ear was left on the pillory, that did not matter. the rise of the puritans and their public expression of faith is marked by most painful episodes for those unterrified men. dr. leighton, who wrote _zion's plea against prelacy_, paid dearly for calling the queen a daughter of heth, and episcopacy satanical. he was degraded from the ministry, pilloried, branded, whipped, his ear was cut off, his nostril slit; he was fined £ , and languished eleven years in prison, only to be told on his tardy release, with the irony of fate, that his mutilation and imprisonment had been illegal. in benjamin keach, a baptist minister, was arraigned for writing and publishing a seditious book. his arrest was brought about by another minister named disney, who, as his fellow-countrymen would say, "sings small" in the matter. disney wrote "to his honoured friend luke wilkes, esqre, at whitehall, with speed, these presents": "honour'd sir and loving brother: this primmer owned by benjamin keach as the author and bought by my man george chilton for five pence of henry keach of stableford mill neare me, a miller; who then sayd that his brother benjamin keach is author of it, and that there are fiveteen hundred of them printed. this benjamin keach is a tayler, and one that is a teacher in this new-fangled-way and lives at winslow a market town in buckinghamshire. pray take some speedie course to acquaint my lord archbishop his grace with it, whereby his authoritye may issue forth that ye impression may be seized upon before they be much more dispersed to ye poisoning of people; they containing (as i conceive) schismaticall factions and hereticall matter. some are scattered in my parish, and perchance in no place sooner because he hath a sister here and some others of his gang, two whereof i have bought up. pray let me have your speedie account of it. i doubt not but it will be taken as acceptable service to god's church and beleeve it a very thankeful obligement to honoured sir, your truely loving brother," thomas disney. as a result of disney's neighborly and zealous offices, benjamin keach was thus sentenced: "that you shall go to gaol for a fortnight without bail or mainprise; and the next saturday to stand upon the pillory at ailsbury for the space of two hours, from eleven o'clock to one, with a paper on your head with this inscription: _for writing, printing and publishing a schismatical book, entitled 'the child's instructor; or, a new and easy primmer_.' and the next thursday so stand, and in the same manner and for the same time, in the market of winslow; and there your book shall be openly burnt before your face by the common hangman, in disgrace to you and your doctrine. and you shall forfeit to the king's majesty the sum of £ , and shall remain in gaol till you find securities for your good behaviour and appearance at the next assizes, there to renounce your doctrine and to make such public submission as may be enjoined you." keach stood twice with head and hands set in the pillory, and his book was burnt, and his fine was paid; but never was he subdued, and never did he make recantation. pope wrote a well-known, oft-quoted, yet false line: "earless on high stood unabashed de foe." the great daniel de foe did stand on high on a pillory, but he was not earless. he was by birth and belief a dissenter, and he wrote a severe satire against the church party, entitled _the shortest way with the dissenters_, which so ironically, and with such apparent soberness, reduced the argument of the intolerant to an absurdity, that for a short time it deceived zealous church-folk, who welcomed and praised it, but who turned on him with redoubled hatred when they finally perceived the satire. it was termed a scandalous and seditious pamphlet, and fifty pounds reward was offered for him. he was arrested, tried, pilloried in three places, and imprisoned for a year; but the queen paid his fine for his release from prison, and his pillory was hung with garlands of flowers, and his health was drunk, and scraps of his vigorous doggerel from his _hymn to the pillory_ passed from lip to lip. "men that are men in thee can feel no pain and all thy insignificants disdain contempt that false new word for shame is, without crime, an empty name. the first intent of laws was to correct the effect and check the cause and all the ends of punishment were only future mischiefs to prevent. but justice is inverted when those engines of the law instead of pinching vicious men keep honest ones in awe." williams, the bookseller, set in the pillory in the year for republishing the _north briton_ was also treated with marks of consideration and kindness. he held a sprig of laurel in his hand as he stood, and a purse of two hundred guineas for his benefit was collected in the crowd. as times changed, so did opinions. the bishop of rochester denounced martin luther and all his works, and luther's books were burned in the public squares. puritan publications by the hundreds fed the flames; quaker and baptist books took their turns. then the parliamentary soldiers burned the book of common prayer. in france, in the year , the monasteries were ransacked and their books burned. in paris eight hundred thousand were burned; in all france over four million: of these twenty-six thousand were in manuscript. crossing the atlantic to a land void of printing presses could not silence puritan authors. they still had pen and ink, and manuscripts could be sent back across the ocean to a land full of presses and type. a rather amusing episode of early massachusetts history anent authors happened in , as may be found in volume i, page , of the _colonial records_. "whereas mr. israel stoughton hath written a certain book, which hath occasioned much trouble and offence to the court; the said mr. stoughton did desire of the court, that the said book might be burnt, as being weak and offensive." such extraordinary and unparalleled modesty on the part of an author did not save mr. stoughton's bacon, for he was disabled from holding any office in the commonwealth for the space of three years. winthrop said he used "weak arguments," all of which did not prevent his being a brave soldier in the pequot wars, and serving as a colonel in the parliamentary army in england. a fuller account of the trials of a puritan author in a new land is told through notes taken from the court records. first may be given a declaration of the court: "the generall court, now sittinge at boston, in new england, this sixteenth of october, . there was brought to or hands a booke writen, as was therein subscribed, to william pinchon, gent, in new england, entituled the meritorious price of or redemption, justifycation, &c. clearinge it from some common errors &c. which booke, brought ouer hither by a shippe a few dayes since and contayninge many errors & heresies generally condemned by all orthodox writers that we haue met with and haue judged it meete and necessary, for vindicatio of the truth, so far as in vs lyes, as also to keepe & pserue the people here committed to or care & trust in the true knowledge & faythe of or lord jesus christ, & of or owne redemption by him, and likewise for the clearinge of orselves to or christian brethren & others in england, (where this booke was printed & is dispersed), hereby to ptest or innocency, as being neither partyes nor priuy to the writinge, composinge, printinge, nor diuulging thereof; but that, on the contrary, we detest & abhorre many of the opinions & assertions therein as false, eronyous, & hereticall; yea, & whatsoeuer is contayned in the sd booke which are contrary to the scriptures of the old & new testament, & the generall received doctrine of the orthodox churches extant since the time of the last & best reformation & for proffe and euidence of or sincere & playne meaninge therein, we doe hereby condemne the sd booke to be burned in the market place, at boston, by the common executionor, & doe purpose with all convenient speede to convent the sd william pinchon before authority, to find out whether the sd william pinchon will owne the sd booke as his or not; which if he doth, we purpose (gd willinge) to pceede with him accordinge to his demerits, vnles he retract the same, and giue full satisfaction both here & by some second writinge to be printed and dispersed in england; all of which we thought needfull, for the reasons aboue aleaged, to make knowne by this short ptestation & declaration. also we further purpose, with what convenient speede we may, to appoynt some fitt psn to make a pticuler answer to all materiall & controuersyall passages in the sd booke, & to publish the same in print, that so the errors & falsityes therein may be fully discoued, the truth cleared, & the minds of those that loue & seeke after truth confirmed therein p curia." "it is agreed vppon by the whole court, that mr. norton, one of the reuend elders of ipswich, should be intreated to answer mr. pinchon's booke with all convenient speed." the sentence of this book to be burned by the common hangman was changed to be burned by some person appointed to the duty who would consent to perform it. it was not always easy to get a hangman. in a man in maryland "of tender years" was convicted of horse-stealing and sentenced to death. a "private and secret" pardon was issued by the assembly, but he was given no knowledge of it until he was conveyed to the place of execution and the rope placed round his neck, when he was respited on condition that he would perform the part for life of common hangman, which he did. the hangman was usually some respited prisoner under sentence of death. in some shires in england, he had to be hung at last himself, else the power of possessing a hangman lapsed from the town. one hangman, mortally sick, was bolstered up by his friends with a shoemaker's bench and kit in front of him, pretending to work, and when the sheriffs came to seize him and carry him to the gallows, he did not seem very sick and they left the house without him. he died that night peaceably in bed. all these doings seem too barbarous for civilized england. thomas maule was a salem quaker and an author. his book was ordered to be burned in in boston market place. the diary of the reverend dr. bentley says of him: "tho's maule, shopkeeper of salem, is brought before the council to answer for his printing and publishing a pamphlet of pages entitled "truth held forth and maintained," owns the book but will not own all, till he sees his copy which is at new york with bradford who printed it. saith he writt to ye gov'r of n. york before he could get it printed. book is ordered to be burnt--being stuff'd wth notorious lyes and scandals, and he recognizes to it next court of assize and gen'l gaol delivery to be held for the county of essex. he acknowledges that what was written concerning the circumstance of major gen. atherton's death was a mistake, was chiefly insisted on against him, which i believe was a surprize to him, he expecting to be examined in some point of religion, as should seem by his bringing his bible under his arm." in the writings of john reeves and ludowick muggleton, self-styled prophets, were burned in boston market-place by that abhorred public functionary the hangman. other quaker books were similarly burned, and john rogers of new london, who hated the quakers, but whom the boston magistrates persisted in regarding and classifying as a quaker, had to see his books perish in the flames in company with quaker publications. in a pamphlet called _the monster of monsters_, a sharp criticism on the massachusetts court which caused much stir in provincial political circles, was burned by the hangman in king street, boston. we learn from the _connecticut gazette_ that about the same time another offending publication was sentenced to be "publickly whipt according to moses law, with forty stripes save one, and then burnt." the true book-lover winces at the thought of the blood-stained hands of the hangman on any book, even though a "monster." vi the whipping-post john taylour, the "water-poet," wrote in : "in london, and within a mile, i ween there are jails or prisons full fifteen and sixty whipping-posts and stocks and cages." church and city records throughout england show how constantly these whipping-posts were made to perform their share of legal and restrictive duties. in the reign of henry viii a famous whipping act had been passed by which all vagrants were to be whipped severely at the cart-tail "till the body became bloody by reason of such whipping." this enactment remained in force nearly through the reign of elizabeth, when the whipping-post became the usual substitute for the cart, but the force of the blows was not lightened. the poet cowper has left in one of his letters an amusing account of a sanguinary whipping which he witnessed. the thief had stolen some ironwork at a fire at olney in , and had been tried, and sentenced to be whipped at the cart-tail. [illustration: whipping at the cart's tayle.] "the fellow seemed to show great fortitude, but it was all an imposition. the beadle who whipped him had his left hand filled with red ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew the lash of the whip, leaving the appearance of a wound upon the skin, but in reality not hurting him at all. this being perceived by the constable who followed the beadle to see that he did his duty, he (the constable) applied the cane without any such management or precaution to the shoulders of the beadle. the scene now became interesting and exciting. the beadle could by no means be induced to strike the thief hard, which provoked the constable to strike harder; and so the double flogging continued until a lass of silver end, pitying the pityful beadle thus suffering under the hands of the pityless constable, joined the procession, and placing herself immediately behind the constable seized him by his capillary pigtail, and pulling him backwards by the same, slapped his face with amazonian fury. this concentration of events has taken more of my paper than i intended, but i could not forbear to inform you how the beadle thrashed the thief, the constable the beadle, and the lady the constable, and how the thief was the only person who suffered nothing." as a good, sound british institution, and to have familiar home-like surroundings in the new strange land, the whipping-post was promptly set up, and the whip set at work in all the american colonies. in the orders sent over from england for the restraint of the first settlement at salem, whipping was enjoined, "as correccon is ordaned for the fooles back"--and fools' backs soon were found for the "correccon"; tawny skins and white shared alike in punishment, as both indians and white men were partakers in crime. scourgings were sometimes given on sabbath days and often on lecture days, to the vast content and edification of salem folk. the whipping-post was speedily in full force in boston. at the session of the court held november , , one man was sentenced to be whipped for stealing a loaf of bread; another for shooting fowl on the sabbath, another for swearing, another for leaving a boat "without a pylott." then we read of john pease that for "stryking his mother and deryding her he shalbe whipt." in , in june, this order was given by the general court in boston: "that philip ratcliffe shall be whipped, have his eares cutt off, fined pounds, and banished out of the limits of this jurisdiction, for uttering malicious and scandalous speeches against the government." governor winthrop added to his account of this affair that ratcliffe was "convict of most foul slanderous invectives against our government." this episode and the execution of this sentence caused much reprehension and unfavorable comment in england, where, it would seem, whipping and ear-lopping were rife enough to be little noted. but the mote in our brother's eye seemed very large when seen across the water. anent it, in a letter written from london to the governor's son, i read: "i have heard divers complaints against the severity of your government, about cutting off the lunatick man's ears and other grievances." in henry lynne of boston was sentenced to be whipped. he wrote to england "against the government and execution of justice here," and was again whipped and banished. lying, swearing, taking false toll, perjury, selling rum to the indians, all were punished by whipping. pious regard for the sabbath was fiercely upheld by the support of the whipping-post. in roger scott, for "repeated sleeping on the lord's day" and for striking the person who waked him from his godless slumber was sentenced to be severely whipped. women were not spared in public chastisement. "the gift of prophecy" was at once subdued in boston by lashes, as was unwomanly carriage. on february , , this sentence was rendered: "anne ux. richard walker being cast out of the church of boston for intemperate drinking from one inn to another, and for light and wanton behavior, was the next day called before the governour and the treasurer, and convict by two witnesses, and was stripped naked one shoulder, and tied to the whipping-post, but her punishment was respited." every year, every month, and in time every week, fresh whippings followed. no culprits were, however, to be beaten more than forty stripes as one sentence; and the _body of liberties_ decreed that no "true gentleman or any man equall to a gentleman shall be punished with whipping unless his crime be very shameful and his course of life vitious and profligate." in pursuance of this notion of the exemption of the aristocracy from bodily punishment, a boston witness testified in one flagrant case, as a condonement of the offense, that the culprit "had been a soldier and was a gentleman and they must have their liberties," and he urged letting the case default, and to "make no uprore" in the matter. the lines of social position were just as well defined in new england as in old england, else why was one mr. plaistowe, for fraudulently obtaining corn from the indians, condemned as punishment to be called josias instead of mr. as heretofore? his servant, who assisted in the fraud, was whipped. a maine man named thomas taylour for his undue familiarity shown in his "theeing and thouing" captain raynes was set in the stocks. slander and name-calling were punished by whipping. on april , , john lee "for calling mr. ludlowe false-heart knave, hard-heart knave, heavy ffriend shalbe whipt and fyned xis." six months later he was again in hot water: "john lee shalbe whipt and fyned for speaking reproachfully of the governor, saying hee was but a lawyer's clerk, and what understanding hadd hee more than himselfe, also takeing the court for makeing lawes to picke men's purses, also for abusing a mayd of the governor, pretending love in the way of marriage when himselfe professed hee intended none." in the latter clause of this count against john lee doubtless lay the sting of his offenses. for governor winthrop was very solicitous of the ethics of love-making, and to deceive the affections of one of his fen-county english serving-lasses was to him without doubt a grave misdemeanor. those harmless and irresponsible creatures, young lovers, were menaced with the whip. read this extract from the plymouth laws, dated : "whereas divers persons unfit for marriage both in regard of their yeong yeares, as also in regarde of their weake estate, some practiseing the inveagling of men's daughters and maids under gardians contrary to their parents and gardians likeing, and of maide servants, without the leave and likeing of their masters: it is therefore enacted by the court that if any shall make a motion of marriage to any man's daughter or mayde servant, not having first obtayned leave and consent of the parents or master soe to doe, shall be punished either by fine or corporall punishment, or both, at the discretions of the bench, and according to the nature of the offense." the new haven colony, equally severe on unlicensed lovemaking, specified the "inveagling," whether done by "speech, writing, message, company-keeping, unnecessary familiarity, disorderly night meetings, sinfull dalliance, gifts or, (as a final blow to inventive lovers) in any other way." the new haven magistrates had early given their word in favor of a whipping-post, in these terms: "stripes and whippings is a correction fit and proper in some cases where the offense is accompanied with childish or brutish folly, or rudeness, or with stubborn insolency or bestly cruelty, or with idle vagrancy, or for faults of like nature." in the "pticuler" court of connecticut this entry appears. the "wounding" was of the spirit not of the body: "may , . nicholas wilton for wounding the wife of john brooks, and mary wilton the wife of nicholas wilton, for contemptuous and reproachful terms by her put on one of the assistants are adjudged she to be whipt stripes upon the naked body next training day at windsor and the said nicholas is hereby disfranchised of his freedom in this corporation, and to pay for the horse and man that came with him to the court to-day, and for what damage he hath done to the said brooks his wife, and sit in the stocks the same day his wife is to receive her punishment." in new york a whipping-post was set up on the strand, in front of the stadt huys, under dutch rule, and sentences were many. a few examples of the punishment under the dutch may be given. a sailmaker, rioting in drink around new amsterdam cut one van brugh on the jaw. he was sentenced to be fastened to a stake, severely scourged and a gash made in his left cheek, and to be banished. to the honor of vrouw van brugh let me add that she requested the court that these penalties should not be carried out, or at any rate done in a closed room. one van ter goes for treasonable words of great flagrancy was brought with a rope round his neck to a half-gallows, whipped, branded and banished. roger cornelisen for theft was scourged in public, while herman barenson, similarly accused was so loud in his cries for mercy that he was punished with a rod in a room. from a new york newspaper, dated , i learn that one woman at the whipping-post "created much amusement by her resistance"--which statement throws a keen light on the cold-blooded and brutal indifference of the times to human suffering. may , , _new york gazette_. "tuesday last one david smith was convicted in the mayor's court of taking or stealing goods off a shop window in this city, and was sentenced to be whipped at the carts tail round this town and afterwards whipped at the pillory which sentence was accordingly executed on him." in the same paper, date october , , an account is given of the pillorying of a boy for picking pockets and the whipping of an irishman for stealing deerskins. another man was "whipt round the city" for stealing a barrel of flour. in january, , four men for "petty larceny" were whipped at the cart-tail round new york. in a whipping post was set up in portsmouth, new hampshire, as a companion to the cage. for "speaking opprobriously," and even for "suspitious speeches," new haven citizens were whipped at the "carts podex." rhode island even under the tolerant and gentle roger williams had no idle whip. "larcenie," drunkenness, perjury, were punished at the whipping-post. in newport malefactors were whipped at the cart-tail until this century. mr. channing tells of seeing them fastened to the cart and being thus slowly led through the streets to a public spot where they were whipped on the naked back. women were at that time whipped in the jail-yard with only spectators of their own sex. in plymouth women were whipped at the cart-tail, and the towns resounded with the blows dealt out to quakers. in , on a day in june, one helin billinton, was whipped in plymouth for slander. there was a whipping-post on queen street in boston, another on the common, another on state street, and they were constantly in use in boston in revolutionary times. samuel breck wrote of the year : "the large whipping-post painted red stood conspicuously and prominently in the most public street in the town. it was placed in state street directly under the windows of a great writing school which i frequented, and from there the scholars were indulged in the spectacle of all kinds of punishment suited to harden their hearts and brutalize their feelings. here women were taken in a huge cage in which they were dragged on wheels from prison, and tied to the post with bare backs on which thirty or forty lashes were bestowed among the screams of the culprit and the uproar of the mob." the diary of a boston school-girl of twelve, little anna green winslow, written the same year as mr. breck's account, gives a detailed account of the career of one bet smith, through workhouse and gaol to whipping-post, and thence to be "set on the gallows where she behaved with great impudence." criminals were sentenced in lots. on september , , in one boston court one burglar was sentenced to be hanged, five thieves to be whipped, two greater thieves to be set on the gallows, and one counterfeiter set on the pillory. cowper's account of the tender-hearted beadle is supplemented by a similar performance in boston as shown in a boston paper of august , . eleven culprits were to receive in one day the "discipline of the post." another criminal was obtained by the sheriff to inflict the punishment, but he persisted in being "tender of strokes," though ordered by the sheriff to lay on. at last the sheriff seized the whip and lashed the whipper, then turned to the row of ninepins and delivered the lashes. "the citizens who were assembled complimented the sheriff with three cheers for the manly determined manner in which he executed his duty." so common were whippings in the southern colonies at the date of settlement of the country, that in virginia even "launderers and launderesses" who "dare to wash any uncleane linen, drive bucks, or throw out the water or suds of fowle clothes in the open streetes," or who took pay for washing for a soldier or laborer, or who gave old torn linen for good linen, were severely whipped. many other offenses were punished by whipping in virginia, such as slitting the ears of hogs, or cutting off the ends of hogs' ears--thereby removing ear-marks and destroying claim to perambulatory property--stealing tobacco, running away from home, drunkenness, destruction of land-marks; and in major robins brought suit against one mary powell for "scandalous speaches" against rev. mr. teackle, for which she was ordered to receive twenty lashes on her bare shoulders and to be banished the country. of course, for the correction of slaves the whip was in constant use till our civil war banished slavery and the whipping-post from every state save maryland and delaware. this latter-named commonwealth has been much censured for countenancing the continuance of whipping as a punishment. it is, however, stiffly contended by delaware magistrates that as a restraint over wife-beaters and other cruel and vicious criminals, the whipping post is a distinct success and of marked benefit in its influence in the community. it should also be remembered that these are not the only civilized states to approve of whipping for certain crimes. about thirty years ago, when garroting became so frequent and so greatly feared in england, the whipping-post was reestablished in england, and whipping once more became an authorized punishment. there was one hard-hearted and unjust use of the whip which was prevalent in london and other english cities in olden times which i wish to recount with abjuration. at the time of public executions parents were wont to whip their children soundly to impress upon them a lesson of horror of the gallows. as trivial offenses, such as stealing anything in value over a shilling, were punishable by death, and capital crimes were over three hundred in number, executions were of deplorable frequency; hence the condition of children at that time was indeed pitiable. whipped by most illogical parents, whipped by cruel teachers--even roger ascham used to "pinch, nip and bob" queen elizabeth when she was his pupil--whipped by masters, whipped by mistresses, it would seem that the moral force of the whipping-post for adults must have been very slight, after so many castigory experiences in youth. vii the scarlet letter the rare genius of hawthorne has immortalized in his _scarlet letter_ one mode of stigmatizing punishment common in new england. so faithful is the presentment of colonial life shown in that book, so unerring the power and touch which drew the picture, it cannot be disputed that the atmosphere of the _scarlet letter_ forms in the majority of hearts, nay, in the hearts and minds of all of our reading community, the daily life, the true life of the earliest colonists. to us the characters have lived--hester prynne is as real as margaret winthrop, arthur dimmesdale as john cotton. the glorified letter that stands out of the pages of that book had its faithful and painful prototype in real life in all the colonies; humbler in its fashioning, worn less nobly, endured more despairingly, it shone a scarlet brand on the breast of those real hesters. [illustration: the scarlet letter.] it was characteristic of the times--every little puritan community sought to know by every fireside, to hate in every heart, any offence, great or small, which could hinder the growth and prosperity of the new abiding-place, which was to all a true home, and which they loved with a fervor that would be incomprehensible did we not know their spiritual exaltation in their new-found freedom to worship god. since they were human, they sinned. but the sinners were never spared, either in publicity or punishment. keen justice made the magistrates rigid and exact in the exposition and publication of crime, hence the labelling of an offender. from the colony records of "new plymouth," dated june, , we find that pilgrim hester prynnes were thus enjoined by those stern moralists the magistrates: "to wear two capitall letters, a. d. cut in cloth and sewed on their uppermost garment on the arm and back; and if any time they shall be founde without the letters so worne while in this government, they shall be forthwith taken and publickly whipt." many examples could be gathered from early court records of the wearing of significant letters by criminals. in a woman was sentenced to be "whipt at taunton and plymouth on market day." she was also to be fined and forever in the future "to have a roman b cutt out of ridd cloth & sewed to her vper garment on her right arm in sight." this was for blasphemous words. in john davis of boston was ordered to wear a red v "on his vpermost garment"--which signified, i fancy, viciousness. in william bacon was sentenced to stand an hour in the pillory wearing "in publique vew" a great d--for his habitual drunkenness. other drunkards suffered similar punishment. on september , , in boston: "robert coles was fyned ten shillings and enjoyned to stand with a white sheet of paper on his back whereon drunkard shalbe written in great lres & to stand therewith soe longe as the court finde meete, for abuseing himself shamefully with drinke." the following year robert coles, still misbehaving, was again sentenced, and more severely, for his drunkard's badge was made permanent. " . robert coles, for drunkenes by him comitted at rocksbury, shalbe disfranchized, weare about his necke, & soe to hange vpon his outwd garment a d. made of redd cloth & sett vpon white; to continyu this for a yeare, and not to have itt off any time hee comes among company, vnder the penalty of xls for the first offence & v£ for the second & afterwards to be punished by the court as they think meete, alsoe hee is to weare the d. outwards." we might be justified in drawing an inference from the latter clause that some mortified wearers of a scarlet letter had craftily turned it away from public gaze, hoping thus to escape public odium and ostracism. paupers were plainly labelled, as was the custom everywhere in england. in new york, the letters n. y. showed to what town they submitted. in virginia this law was in force: "that every person who shall receive relief from the parish, and be sent to the said house, shall, upon the shoulder of the right sleeve of his or her uppermost garment, in an open and visible manner, wear a badge with the name of the parish to which he or she belongs, cut in red, blue or green cloth, as the vestry or church wardens shall direct; and if any poor person shall neglect or refuse to wear such badge, such offence may be punished either by ordering his or her allowance to be abridged, suspended or withdrawn, or the offender to be whipped not exceeding five lashes for one offence; and if any person not entitled to relief, as aforesaid, shall presume to wear such badge, he or she shall be whipped for every such offence." the conditions of wearing "in an open and visible manner" may have been a legal concession necessitated by the action of the english goody who, when ordered to wear a pauper's badge, demurely pinned it on an under-petticoat. a more limited and temporary mortification of a transgressor consisted in the marking by significant letters or labels inscribed in large letters with the name or nature of the crime. these were worn only while the offender was exposed to public view or ridicule in cage, or upon pillory, stocks, gallows or penance stool, or on the meeting house steps, or in the market-place. an early and truly characteristic law for those of puritan faith reads thus: "if any interrupt or oppose a preacher in season of worship, they shall be reproved by the magistrate, and on a repetition, shall pay £ or stand two hours on a block four feet high, with this inscription in capitalls, a wanton gospeller." this law was enacted in boston. a similar one was in force in the connecticut colony. in a man was tried in the general court in hartford for "contemptuous carriages" against the church and ministers, and was thus sentenced: "to stand two houres openly upon a blocke or stoole foure feet high uppon a lecture daye with a paper fixed on his breast written in capitall letters, an open and obstinate contemner of god's holy ordinances, that others may feare and be ashamed of breakinge out in like wickednesse." the latter clause would seem to modern notions an unintentional yet positive appeal to the furtherance of time-serving and hypocrisy. drunkards frequently were thus temporarily labelled. i quote an entry of governor winthrop's in the year : "one baker, master's mate of the ship, being in drink, used some reproachful words of the queen. the governour and council were much in doubt what to do with him, but having considered that he was distempered, and sorry for it, and being a stranger, and a chief officer in the ship, and many ships were there in harbour, they thought it not fit to inflict corporal punishment upon him, but after he had been two or three days in prison, he was set an hour at the whipping post with a paper on his head and dismissed." many boston men were similarly punished. for defacing a public record one was sentenced in may, , "to stand in the pillory two howers in boston market with a paper ouer his head marked in capitall letters a defacer of records." ann boulder at about the same time was ordered "to stand in yrons half an hour with a paper on her breast marked pvblick destroyer of peace." in three boston women received this form of public punishment; of them margaret henderson was "censured to stand in the market place with a paper for her ill behavior, & her husband was fyned £ for her yvill behavior & to bring her to the market place for her to stand there." joan andrews of york, maine, sold two heavy stones in a firkin of butter. she, too, had to stand disgraced bearing the description of her wicked cheatery "written in capitall letters and pinned upon her forehead." widow bradley of new london, connecticut, for her sorry behaviour in had to wear a paper pinned to her cap to proclaim her shame. really picturesque was jan of leyden, of the new netherland settlement, who for insolence to the bushwyck magistrates was sentenced to be fastened to a stake near the gallows, with a bridle in his mouth, a bundle of rods under his arm, and a paper on his breast bearing the words, "lampoon-riter, false-accuser, defamer of magistrates." william gerritsen of new amsterdam sang a defamatory song against the lutheran minister and his daughter. he pleaded guilty, and was bound to the maypole in the fort with rods tied round his neck, and wearing a paper labelled with his offense, and there to stand till the end of the sermon. this custom of labelling a criminal with words or initials expositive of his crime or his political or religious offense, is neither american nor puritan in invention and operation, but is so ancient that the knowledge of its beginning is lost. it was certainly in full force in the twelfth century in england. in one john de hakford, for stating to a friend that there were ten thousand rebels ready to rise in london, was placed in the pillory four times a year "without hood or girdle, barefoot and unshod, with a whetstone hung by a chain from his neck, and lying on his breast, it being marked with the words _a false liar_, and there shall be a pair of trumpets trumpeting before him on his way." many other cases are known of hanging an inscribed whetstone round the neck of the condemned one. for three centuries men were thus labelled, and with sound of trumpets borne to the pillory or scaffold. as few of the spectators of that day could read the printed letters, the whetstone and trumpets were quite as significant as the labels. in the first year of the reign of henry viii, fabian says that three men, rebels, and of good birth, died of shame for being thus punished. they rode about the city of london with their faces to their horses' tails, and bore marked papers on their heads, and were set on the pillory at cornhill and again at newgate. in canterbury, in , a man was pilloried, and wore a paper inscribed: "this is a false perjured and for-sworn man." in the corporation accounts of the town of newcastle-on-tyne are many items of the expenses for punishing criminals. one of the date reads: "paide for papers for folkes which was sett on the pillorie, d." writing was not an every-day accomplishment in those times, else fourpence for writing a "paper" would seem rather a high-priced service. viii branks and gags the brank or scold's bridle was unknown in america in its english shape: though from colonial records we learn that scolding women were far too plentiful, and were gagged for that annoying and irritating habit. the brank, sometimes called the gossip's bridle, or dame's bridle, or scold's helm, was truly a "brydle for a curste queane." it was a shocking instrument, a sort of iron cage, often of great weight; when worn, covering the entire head; with a spiked plate or flat tongue of iron to be placed in the mouth over the tongue. hence if the offender spoke she was cruelly hurt. ralph gardner, in his book entitled _england's grievance discovered in relation to the coal trade, etc._, printed in , says of newcastle-on-tyne: "there he saw one anne bridlestone drove through the streets by an officer of the same corporation, holding a rope in his hand, the other end fastened to an engine called the branks, which is like a crown, it being of iron, which was musled over the head and face, with a great gag or tongue of iron forced into her mouth, which forced the blood out; and that is the punishment which the magistrates do inflict upon chiding and scolding women; and he hath often seen the like done to others." [illustration: the branks.] over fifty branks of various shapes are now in existence in english museums, churches, town halls, etc., and prove by their number and wide extent of location, the prevalence of their employment as a means of punishment. being made of durable iron and kept within doors, and often thrust, as their use grew infrequent, into out-of-the-way hiding-places, they have not vanished from existence as have the wooden stocks and pillories, which stood exposed to wear, weather and attack. one of these old-time branks is in the vestry of the church at walton-on-thames. it is dated , and has this couplet graven on it: "chester presents walton with a bridle to cure women's tongues that talk too idle." by tradition this brank was angrily and insultingly given by a gentleman named chester, who had through the lie of a gossiping woman of walton lost an expected fortune. one is in congleton town hall which was used as recently at , upon a confirmed scold who had especially abused some constables and church-wardens; and as late as a brank was produced _in terrorem_ to silence an english scold, and it is said with marked and salutary effect. several branks are still in existence in staffordshire. the old historian of the county, dr. plot, pleads quaintly the cause of the brank: "we come to the arts that respect mankind, amongst which as elsewhere, the civility of precedence must be allowed to the women, and that as well in punishments as in favours. for the former, whereof they have such a peculiar artifice at newcastle and walsall for correcting of scolds, which it does too, so effectually and so very safely that i look upon it as much to be preferred to the ducking-stool, which not only endangers the health of the party, but also gives her tongue liberty to wag, twixt every dip, to neither of which is this at all liable, it being such a bridle for the tongue as not only quite deprives them of speech, but brings shame for the transgression, and humility thereupon, before its taken off.... which being put upon the offender by the order of the magistrate, and fastened with a padlock behind, she is led through the town by an officer, to her shame, nor is it taken off till after the party begins to show all external signs imaginable of humiliation and amendment." mr. llewellyn jewitt, editor of the _reliquary_, gives an explicit account of the way a brank was worn: "the chesterfield brank is a good example, and has the additional interest of bearing a date. it is nine inches in height, and six and three-quarters across the hoop. it consists of a hoop of iron, hinged on either side, and fastening behind, and a band, also of iron, passing over the head from back to front and opening dividing in front to admit the nose of the woman whose misfortune it was to wear it. the mode of putting it on would be thus: the brank would be opened by throwing back the sides of the hoop, and the hinder part of the top band by means of the hinges. the constable would then stand in front of his victim and force the knife or plate into her mouth, the divided band passing on either side of her nose, which would protrude through the opening. the hoop would then be closed behind, the band brought down from the top to the back of the head, and fastened down upon it, and thus the cage would at once be firmly and immovably fixed so long as her tormentors might think fit. on the left side is a chain, one end of which is attached to the hoop, and on the other end is a ring by which the victim was led, or by which she was at pleasure attached to a post or wall. on the front of the brank is the date ." this brank is depicted in the _reliquary_ for october, . mr. william andrews, in his interesting book, entitled _old-time punishments_ gives drawings of no less than sixteen branks now preserved in england. some of them are massive, and horrible instruments of torture. it will be noted that the brank is universally spoken of as a punishment for women; but men also were sentenced to wear it--paupers, blasphemers, railers. i am glad john winthrop and john carver did not bring cumbrous and cruel iron branks to america. there are plenty of other ways to shut a woman's mouth and to still her tongue, as all sensible men know; on every hand, if gossips were found, a simple machine could be shaped, one far simpler than a scold's bridle. a cleft stick pinched on the tongue was as temporarily efficacious as the iron machine, and could be speedily put in use. on june , , the little town of southampton, long island, saw a well-known resident, for her "exorbitant words of imprication," stand for an hour in public with her tongue in a cleft stick. a neighbor at easthampton, long island, the same year received a like sentence: "it is ordered that goody edwards shall pay £ or have her tongue in a cleft stick for contempt of court warrant in saienge she would not come, but if they had been governor or magistrate then she would come, and desireing the warrant to burn it." about the same time goodwife hunter was gagged in springfield for a similar offense. in salem, under the sway of the rigid and narrow puritan endicott, the system of petty surveillance and demeaning punishment seemed to reach its height; and one citizen in mild sarcasm thereof said he did suppose if he did lie abed in the morning he would be hauled up by the magistrates,--and was promptly fined for even saying such a thing in jest. therefore of course "one oliver, his wife" was adjudged to be whipped for reproaching the magistrates and for prophesying. winthrop, in his _history of new england_, says of her scourging and her further punishment: "she stood without tying, and bare her punishment with a masculine spirit, glorying in her suffering. but after (when she came to consider the reproach which would stick by her, etc.), she was much dejected about it. she had a cleft stick put on her tongue half an hour for reproaching the elders." in salem in four men got drunk--young men, some of them servants. two named george dill and john cook were thus punished: "they be fined s for drunckenes, and to stand att the meeting-house doar next lecture day with a clefte stick vpon his tong and a paper vpon his hatt subscribed for gross premeditated lyinge." the others, thomas tucke and mica ivor, were not so drunk nor such wanton liars and their punishment was somewhat mitigated. the sentence runs thus: "they are also found guilty of lyeing & drunckenes though not to that degree as the twoe former yett are fined s & their own promis taken for itt. alsoe two stand on the lecture day with the twoe former but noe clefte sticke on their tong only a paper on his head subscribed for lying." so it will be seen that men suffered this painful and mortifying punishment as well as women. and i may say, in passing, that slander and mischief-making seemed to be even more rife among men than among women in colonial times. this entry may be found in the _records of the massachusetts bay colony_: " september, boston, . robert shorthouse for swearinge by the bloud of god was sentenced to have his tongue put into a cleft stick, and soe stand for halfe an houre & elizabeth wife of thomas applegate was censured to stand with her tongue in a cleft stick for half an houre for swearinge, railinge and revilinge." robert bartlett in the same court in was "psented" for cursing, and swearing, and had his tongue thrust in a cleft stick. samuel hawkes for cursing, lying and stealing received the same sentence. in sarah morgan struck her husband. he evidently ran whining to the constables, and wife sarah received a just punishment. she was ordered to "stand with a gagg in her mouth" at kittery, maine, at a public town-meeting, and "the cause of her offense written and put on her forehead." thus gagged and placarded she must have proved a striking figure; jeered at, doubtless, as an odious example of wifely insubordination, by all the good citizens who came to shape the "town's mind" at the town's meeting. as years passed on the independent spirit of the times became averse to gagging, though whipping and imprisonment still were for some years dealt out for reviling and railing. america was in some ways earlier in humane elements of consideration for criminals than england, and while women were still wearing the brank in english villages american women no longer feared either gag or cleft stick for unruly tongues. long after the punishment of which i write had been banished from american courts it lingered in various forms in american schools--as did the stocks, the penance-stool, and the whip. i have an example of a "whispering-stick," a wooden gag, provided with holes by which it could be tied in place, and which was used in a providence school during this century as a punishment for whispering. and many a child during the past century had a cleft stick placed on his tongue for ill words or untimely words in school. sometimes, with an exaggeration of ridicule, a small branch of a tree in full leaf was split and pinched on the tongue--a true pedagogical torture. ix public penance the custom of performing penance in public by humiliation in church either through significant action, position or confession has often been held to be peculiar to the presbyterian and puritan churches. it is, in fact, as old as the church of rome, and was a custom of the church of england long before it became part of the dissenters' discipline. all ranks and conditions of men shared in this humiliation. an english king, henry ii, a german emperor, henry iv, the famous duchess of gloucester, and jane shore are noted examples; humbler victims for minor sins or offenses against religious usages suffered in like manner. in scotland the ordeals of sitting on the repentance-stool or cutty-stool were most frequent. in economic and social histories of scotland, and especially in edgar's _old church life in scotland_, many instances are enumerated. sometimes the offender wore a repentance-gown of sackcloth; more frequently he stood or sat barefoot and barelegged. [illustration: public penance] in our own day penance has been done in the scottish church. in a woman in ross-shire sat on the cutty-stool through the whole service with a black shawl over her head; while in february, , one of the ringleaders in the sabbatarian riots was set on the cutty-stool in lochcarron church and rebuked for a moral offense which could not, according to the discipline of the free church in the highlands, be fully punished in any other way. in english churches similar penance was done. in the _history of wakefield cathedral_ are given the old church-wardens' accounts. in them are many items of the loan of sheets for men and women "to do penance in." about sixpence was the usual charge. for immorality, cheating, defamation of character, disregard of the sabbath and other transgressions penance was performed. in penance was thus rendered in stokesby church for three sundays by james beadwell: "in the time of divine service, between the hours of ten and eleven in the forenoon of the same day, in the presence of the whole congregation there assembled, being barehead, barefoot and barelegged, having a white sheet wrapped about him from the shoulder to the feet and a white wand in his hand, where immediately after the reading of the gospel, he shall stand upon some form or seat before the pulpit or place where the minister readeth prayers and say after him as forthwith, etc." clergymen even, if offenders against the established church, were not spared public humiliation. in the year the vicar of a church in hull, england, preached a sermon in holy trinity church advocating the teaching of the reformers in antwerp. he was promptly tried for heresy and convicted. he recanted; and in penance walked around the church on sunday clad only in his shirt, barefooted and carrying a large faggot in his hand. on the market day he walked around the market-place clad in a similar manner. this really solemn act is robbed of its dignity because of the apparel of the penitent. a man's shirt is an absurd garment; had the offender been wrapped in a sheet, or robed in sackcloth and ashes, he would been a noble figure, but you cannot grace or dignify a shirt. with a mingling of barbarity and christianity unrivalled by any other code of laws issued in america, the _articles, lawes, and orders divine, politique and martiall for the colony of virginea_, as issued by sir thomas dale, punished offenders against the church and god's word equally by physical and moral penance. "noe man shall vnworthilie demeane himselfe vnto any preacher, or minister of god's holy word, but generally hold them in all reverent regard and dutiful intreatie, otherwise he the offender shall openly be whipt three times, and ask publick forgiveness in the assembly of the congregation three several saboth daies." "there is no one man or woman in this colonie now present, or hereafter to arrive, but shall give vp an account of his and their faith and religion, and repaire vnto the minister, that by his conference with them, hee may vnderstand, and gather, whether heretofore they have been sufficiently instructed and catechised in the principles and grounds on religion, whose weaknesse and ignorance herein, the minister, finding, and advising them in all love and charitie to repaire often unto him to receive therein a greater measure of knowledge, if they shal refuse so to repaire unto him, and he the minister give notice thereof unto the governour, he shall cause the offender first time of refusall to be whipt, for the second time to be whipt twice, and to acknowledge his fault vpon the saboth day, in the assembly, and for the third time to be whipt every day vntil he hath made the same acknowledgement, and asked forgivenesse for the same, and shall repaire vnto the minister, to be further instructed as aforesaid; and vpon the saboth when the minister shall catechize and of him demaund any question concerning his faith and knowledge, he shall not refuse to make answer vpon the same perill." those who were found to "calumniate, detract, slander, murmur, mutinie, resist, disobey, or neglect" the officers' commands also were to be whipped and ask forgiveness at the sabbath service. the puritans were said dreadfully to seek god; far greater must have been the dread of virginia church folk; and in view of this severity it is not to be wondered that this law had to be issued as a pendant: "no man or woman, vpon paine of death, shall rune away from the colonie, to powhathan or any savage weroance else whatever." bishop meade, in his history of the virginia church, tells of offenders who stood in church wrapped in white sheets with white wands in their hands; and other examples of public penance in the southern colonies are known. in robert sweet of jamestown--"a gentleman"--appeared, wrapped in a white sheet, and did penance in church. in lower norfolk county, a white man and a black woman stood up together, dressed in white sheets and holding white wands in their hands. the custom of public confession of sin prevailed in the first salem church, and thereafter lasted in new england, in modified form for two centuries. biblical authority for this custom was claimed to rest in certain verses of the eighteenth chapter of the gospel by st. matthew. mr. charles francis adams, in his paper entitled _some phases of morality and church discipline in new england_, gives many examples of public confession of sin and public reprimand in the braintree meeting-house. manuscript church records which i have examined afford scores, almost hundreds of other examples. in earliest times, in new england as in virginia a white robe or white sheet was worn by the offender. in two salem women, wrapped in white, were set on stools "in the middle alley" of the meeting-house through the long service; having on their heads a paper bearing the name of their crime. in william trotter of newbury, massachusetts, for his slanderous speeches was enjoined to make "publick acknowledgement" in the church on a lecture-day. on the th of september, , ellinor bonythorne of york, maine, was sentenced "to stand sabbath dayes in a white sheet in the meeting-house." another maine woman, ruth, the wife of john gouch, being found guilty of a hateful crime was ordered "to stand in a white sheet publickly in the congregation at agamenticus two several sabbath days, and likewise one day in the general court." these scenes were not always productive of true penitence. this affair happened in the braintree church in , and many others might be cited. "isaac theer was called forth in public, moved pathetically to acknowledge his sin and publish his repentance, who came down and stood against the lower end of the fore seat after he had been prevented by our shutting the east door from going out. stood impudently and said indeed he owned the sin of stealing and was heartily sorry for it, begged pardon of god and men, and hoped he should do so no more, which was all he would be brought unto, saying his sin was already known; all with a remisse voice so few could hear him. the church gave their judgment against him that he was a notorious scandalous sinner, and obstinately impenitent. and when i was proceeding to spread before him his sin and wickedness, he, as tis probable, guessing what was like to follow, turned about to goe out, and being desired and charged to tarry and know what the church had to say, he flung out of doors with an insolent manner though silent." a most graphic description of one of these scenes of public abasement and abnegation is given by governor john winthrop in his _history of new england_. the offender, captain john underhill, was a brave though blustering soldier, a man of influence throughout new england, a so-called gentleman. and i doubt not that boston folk tried hard to overlook his transgressions because, "soldiers has their ways." winthrop wrote thus: "captain underbill being brought by the blessing of god in this church's censure of excommunication to remorse for his foul sins, obtained by means of the elders and others of the church of boston, a safe conduct under the hand of the governor and one of the council to repair to the church. he came at the time of the court of assistants, and upon the lecture day, after sermon, the pastor called him forth and declared the occasion, and then gave him leave to speak; and, indeed, it was a spectacle which caused many weeping eyes, though it afforded matter of much rejoicing to behold the power of the lord jesus in his ordinances, when they are dispensed in his own way, holding forth the authority of his regal sceptre in the simplicity of the gospel. he came in his worst clothes, being accustomed to take great pride in his bravery and neatness, without a band, in a foul linen cap pulled close to his eyes, and standing upon a form, he did, with many deep sighs and abundance of tears, lay open his wicked course, his adultery, his hypocrisy, his persecution of god's people here, and especially his pride, as the root of all which caused god to give him over to his sinful courses, and contempt of magistrates. * * * * * he spake well, save that his blubbering, etc., interrupted him, and all along he discovered a broken and melting heart and gave good exhortations to take heed of such vanities and beginnings of evil as had occasioned his fall. and in the end he earnestly and humbly besought the church to have compassion on him and to deliver him out of the hands of satan." in truth, the captain "did protest too much." this well-acted and well-costumed piece of vainglorious repentance was not his first appearance in the boston meeting-house in this role. twice before had he been the chief actor in a similar scene, and twice had he been forgiven by the church and by individuals specially injured. he was not alone in his "blubbering," as winthrop plainly puts it. the minister at jedburgh, scotland, for similar offenses, "prostrated himself on the floor of the assembly, and with weeping and howling, entreated for pardon." he was thus sentenced: "that in edinburgh as the capital, in dundee as his native town, in jedburgh as the scene of his ministration, he should stand in sack-cloth at the church door, also on the repentance-stool, and for two sundays in each place." the most striking and noble figure to suffer public penance in american history was judge samuel sewall. he was one of the board of magistrates who sat in judgment at the famous witchcraft trials in salem and boston in the first century of new england life. through his superstition and by his sentence, many innocent lives were sacrificed. judge sewall was a steadfast christian, a man deeply introspective, absolutely upright, and painfully conscientious. as years passed by, and all superstitious excitement was dead, many of the so-called victims confessed their fraud, and in the light of these confessions, and with calmer judgment, and years of unshrinking thought, judge sewall became convinced that his decisions had been unjust, his condemnation cruel, and his sentences appallingly awful. though his public confession and recantation was bitterly opposed by his fellow judge, stoughton, he sent to his minister a written confession of his misjudgment, his remorse, his sorrow. it was read aloud at the sabbath service in the boston church while the white-haired judge stood in the face of the whole congregation with bowed head and aching heart. for his self-abnegation he has been honored in story and verse; honored more in his time of penance than in the many positions of trust and dignity bestowed on him by his fellow-citizens. [illustration: ryding the wooden-horse] x military punishments an english writer of the seventeenth century, one gittins, says with a burst of noble and eloquent sentiment: "a soldier should fear only god and dishonour." writing with candor he might have added, "but the english soldier fears only his officers." the shocking and frequent cruelty practiced in the english army is now a thing of the past, though it lasted to our own day in the form of bitter and protracted floggings. it is useless to describe one of these military floggings, and superfluous as well, when an absolutely classic description, such as somerville's, in his _autobiography of a workingman_, can be read by all. he writes with stinging, burning words of the punishment of a hundred lashes which he received during his service in the british army, and his graphic sentences cut like the "cat"--we seem to see in lurid outlines the silent, motionless, glittering regiment drawn up in a square four rows deep; the unmoved and indifferent officers, all men of gentle birth and liberal education, but brutalized and inhuman, standing within these lines and near the cruel stake; the impassive quartermaster marking with leisurely and unmoved exactness every powerful, agonizing lash of the bloody whip as it descended on the bare back of a brave british soldier, without one sign of protest or scarce of interest from any of the hundreds who viewed the scene, save on the part of the surgeon, who stood perfunctorily near with basin and drugs to revive the sufferer if he fainted, or stop the punishment if it seemed to foretell a fatal result. we read that raw recruits sometimes cried out or dropped down in the ranks from fright at the first horrifying sight of an army-flogging, but they soon grew scarcely to heed the ever-frequent and brutalizing sight. these floggings were never of any value as a restraint or warning in the army; the whipped and flayed soldiers were ruined in temper and character just as they were often ruined in health. deaths from exhaustion and mortification from the wounds of the lash were far from infrequent. the story of the inquiry in army circles that led to the disuse of the whip in the british army (as for instance, the _evidence on military punishment_ contains some of the most revolting pages ever put in print. english army-laws of course ruled the royal troops in the american provinces, and the local train bands, and were continued among the volunteer american soldiers of the revolution. i have read scores of order-books and seen hundreds of sentences to flogging, both during the french and indian wars, and in the revolutionary war. a few instances may be given. edward munro, of lexington, mass., was a lieutenant in a company of rangers in , and in he was lieutenant in saltonstall's regiment at crown point, and he acted as adjutant for four regiments. his order-book still exists. on october , , a court-martial found several soldiers guilty of neglect of duty, and he records that they were sentenced to receive punishment in the following manner: "robert mcknight to receive lashes on his naked back with cat-o'-nine-tails. john cobby to receive lashes in the same manner; and peter mcallister lashes in the same maner. the adjutant will see the sentences put in execution by the drum of the line at o'clock this evening; the surgeon to attend the execution." as peter mcalister was very young his lashes were remitted. he was led in disgrace to watch the others as they were whipped, two hundred lashes at a time, at the head of the four regiments, _if the surgeon found they could endure it_. these sentences were horribly severe. thirty-nine lashes were deemed a cruel punishment. ten was the more frequent number. dr. rea, in his diary, kept before "ticonderogue," tells of a thousand lashes being given in one case. another journal tells of fifteen hundred lashes. he also states that he never witnessed a military flogging, as he "found the shreaks and crys satisfactory without the sight." occasionally a faint gleam of humanity seems dawning, as when we find colonel crafts in camp before boston in sending out this regimental order: "the colonel is extreamly sorry and it gives him pain to think he is at last obliged to consent to the corporal punishment of one of his regiment. punishments are extreamly erksome and disagreeable to him but he finds they are unfortunately necessary." after that date the "cat" was seldom idle in his regiment, as in others in the continental army. lashes on the naked back with the cat-o'-nine-tails was the usual sentence, diversified by an occasional order for whipping "with a burch rodd on the naked breech," or "over such parts as the commanding officer may apoint." there was, says one diary writer of revolutionary times, "no spairing of the whip" in the continental army; and floggings were given for comparatively trivial offenses such as "wearing a hat uncockt," "malingering," swearing, having a dirty gun, uttering "scurulous" words, being short of ammunition, etc. a new york soldier in was accused of pilfering. this was the sentence decreed to him: "the court marshall doth adjudge that the said melchoir classen shall run the gantlope once, the length of the fort: where according to the custom of that punishment, the souldiers shall have switches delivered to them, with which they shall strike him as he passes between them stript to the waist, and at the fort-gate the marshall is to receive him, and there to kick him out of the garrison as a cashiered person, when he is no more to returne, and if any pay is due him it is to be forfeited." all of which would seem to tend to the complete annihilation of melchoir classen. gantlope was the earlier and more correct form of the word now commonly called gantlet. running the gantlope was a military punishment in universal use in the seventeenth century in england and on the continent. it was the german _gassenlaufen_ and it is said was the invention of that military genius, the emperor gustavus adolphus. the method of punishing by running the gantlope was very exactly defined in english martial law. the entire regiment was drawn up six deep. the ranks then were opened and faced inward; thus an open passage way was formed with three rows of soldiers on either side. each soldier was given a lash or a switch and ordered to strike with force. the offender, stripped naked to the waist, was made to run between the lines, and he was preceded by a sergeant who pressed the point of his reversed halbert against the breast of the unfortunate culprit to prevent his running too swiftly between the strokes. thus every soldier was made a public executioner of a cowardly and degrading punishment. several cases are on record of running the gantlope in virginia; and an interesting case was that of captain walter gendal of yarmouth, maine, a brave soldier, who for the slightest evidence of a not very serious crime was sentenced to "run the gauntelope" through all the military companies in boston with a rope around his neck. this sentence was never executed. it is certainly curious to note that the first two parsons who came to plymouth, named oldham and lyford, came in honor and affection, but had to run the gantlope at their leaving. they were most "unsavorie salt," as poor, worried bradford calls them in his narrative of their misbehaviors (one of the shrewdest, most humorous and sententious pieces of seventeenth century writing extant), and after various "skandales, aggravations, and great malignancies" they were "clapt up for a while." he then writes of oldham: "they comited him till he was tamer, and then apointed a guard of musketiers, wch he was to pass thorow, and every man was ordered to give him a thump on ye breech wth ye end of his musket, then they bid him goe and mende his manners." morton of merry-mount tells in equally forcible language in his _new england canaan_ of the similar punishment of lyford. a dutch sailor, for drawing a knife on a companion, was dropped three times from the yard-arm and received a kick from every sailor on the ship--a form of running the gantlope. and we read of a woman who enlisted as a seaman, and whose sex was detected, being dropped three times from the yard-arm, running the gantlope, and being tarred and feathered, and that she nearly died from the rough and cruel treatment she received. similar in nature to running the gantlope, and equally cowardly and cruel, was "passing the pikes." in the fierce _summarie of marshall lawes_ for the colony of virginia under dale, i find constantly appointed the penalty of "passing the pikes:" it was ordered for disobedience, for persistence in quarrelling, for waylaying to wound, etc. "that souldier that having a quarrell with an other, shall gather other of his acquaintances, and associates, to make parties, to bandie, brave second, and assist him therein, he and those braves, seconds and assistants shall pass the pikes." this was not an idle threat, for duelling was discouraged and forbidden by virginia rulers. in one denham of virginia carried a challenge from his father-in-law to a mr. fox. he was tried for complicity in promoting duelling and thus sentenced: "for bringinge and acknowledgeinge it to be a chalenge, for deliveringe it to a member of ye court during ye court's siting, for his slytinge and lessinge ye offense together with his premptory answers to ye court ye sd denham to receave six stripes on his bare shoulder with a whip." another common punishment for soldiers (usually for rioting or drinking) was the riding the wooden horse. in new amsterdam the wooden horse stood between paerel street and the fort, and was a straight, narrow, horizontal pole, standing twelve feet high. sometimes the upper edge of the board or pole was acutely sharpened to intensify the cruelty. the soldier was set astride this board, with his hands tied behind his back. often a heavy weight was tied to each foot, as was jocularly said, "to keep his horse from throwing him." garret segersen, a dutch soldier, for stealing chickens, rode the wooden horse for three days, from two o'clock to close of parade, with a fifty-pound weight tied to each foot, which was a severe punishment. in other cases in new amsterdam a musket was tied to each foot of the disgraced man. one culprit rode with an empty scabbard in one hand and a pitcher in the other to show his inordinate love for john barleycorn. jan alleman, a dutch officer, valorously challenged jan de fries, _who was bedridden_; for this cruel and meaningless insult he, too, was sentenced to ride the wooden horse, and was cashiered. dutch regiments in new netherland were frequently drilled and commanded by english officers, and riding the wooden horse was a favorite punishment in the english army; hence perhaps its prevalence in the dutch regiments. grose, in his _military history of england_, gives a picture of the wooden horse. it shows a narrow-edged board mounted on four legs on rollers and bearing a rudely-shaped head and tail. the ruins of one was still standing in portsmouth, england, in . he says that its use was abandoned in the english army on account of the permanent injury to the health of the culprit who endured it. at least one death is known in america, in colonial times, on long island, from riding the wooden horse. it was, of course, meted out as a punishment in the american provinces both in the royal troops and in the local train bands. a maine soldier, one richard gibson, in , was "complayned of for his dangerous and churtonous caridge to his commander and mallplying of oaths." he was sentenced to be laid neck and heels together at the head of his company for two hours, or to ride the "wooden-hourse" at the head of the company the next training-day at kittery. in , a salem soldier, for some military misdemeanor, was sentenced to "ride the wooden horse," and in revolutionary days it was a favorite punishment in the continental army. in the order-book kept by rev. john pitman during his military service on the hudson, are frequent entries of sentences both for soldiers and suspected spies, to "ride the woodin horse," or, as it was sometimes called, "the timber mare." it was probably from the many hours of each sentence a modification of the cruel punishment of the seventeenth century. it was most interesting to me to find, under the firm signature of our familiar revolutionary hero, paul revere, as "preseding officer," the report of a court-martial upon two continental soldiers for playing cards on the sabbath day in september, ; and to know that, as expressed by paul revere, "the court are of the oppinion that thomas cleverly ride the wooden horse for a quarter of an hower with a muskett on each foot, and that caleb southward cleans the streets of the camp," which shows that the patriot, could temper justice with both tender mercy and tidy prudence. the wooden horse was employed some times as a civil punishment. horse thieves were thus fitly punished. in new haven, in january, , a case happened: "last tuesday one james brown, a transient person, was brought to the bar of the county court on a complaint for horse-stealing--being put to plead--plead guilty, and on thursday received the sentence of the court, that he shall be confined to the goal in this county weeks, to be whipped the first day stripes on the naked body, and set an hour on the wooden horse, and on the first monday each following month be whipped ten stripes and set one hour each time on the wooden horse." the cruel punishment of "picketing," which was ever the close companion of "riding the wooden horse" in the english army is recorded by dr. rea as constantly employed in the colonial forces. in "picketing" the culprit was strung up to a hook by one wrist while the opposite bare heel rested upon a stake or picket, rounded at the point just enough not to pierce the skin. the agony caused by this punishment was great. it could seldom be endured longer than a quarter of an hour at a time. it so frequently disabled soldiers for marching that it was finally abandoned as "inexpedient." the high honor of inventing and employing the whirlgig as a means of punishment in the army has often been assigned to our revolutionary hero, general henry dearborn, but the fame or infamy is not his. for years it was used in the english army for the petty offenses of soldiers, and especially of camp-followers. it was a cage which was made to revolve at great speed, and the nausea and agony it caused to its unhappy occupant were unspeakable. in the american army it is said lunacy and imbecility often followed excessive punishment in the whirlgig. various tiresome or grotesque punishments were employed. delinquent soldiers in winthrop's day were sentenced to carry a large number of turfs to the fort; others were chained to a wheelbarrow. in among the continental soldiers as in our civil war, culprits were chained to a log or clog of wood; this weight often was worn four days. one soldier for stealing cordage was sentenced to "wear a clogg for four days and wear his coat rong side turn'd out." a deserter from the battle of bunker hill was tied to a horse's tail, lead around the camp and whipped. other deserters were set on a horse with face to the horse's tail, and thus led around the camp in derision. there was one curious punishment in use in the army during our civil war which, though not, of course, of colonial times, may well be mentioned since it was a revival of a very ancient punishment. it is thus described by the author of a paper written in and called _a look at the federal army_: "i was extremely amused to see a rare specimen of yankee invention in the shape of an original method of punishment drill. one wretched delinquent was gratuitously framed in oak, his head being thrust through a hole cut in one end of a barrel, the other end of which had been removed, and the poor fellow loafed about in the most disconsolate manner, looking for all the world like a half-hatched chicken." i have made careful inquiry among officers and soldiers who served in the late war, and i find this instance, which occurred in virginia, was not exceptional. a lieutenant in the maine infantry volunteers wrote on july , , from cape parapet, about two miles above new orleans: "we have had some drunkenness but not so much as when we were in other places; two of my company were drunk, and the next day i had a hole cut in the head of a barrel, and put a placard on each side to tell the bearer that 'i am wearing this for getting drunk,' and with this they marched through the streets of the regiment four hours each. i don't believe they will get drunk again very soon." the officer who wrote the above adds to-day: "this punishment was not original with me, as i had read of its being done in the army of the potomac, and i asked permission of the colonel to try it, the taking away of a soldier's pay by court-martial having little permanent effect. in those cases one of the men quit drinking, and years afterward thanked me for having cured him of the habit, saying he had never drank a drop of liquor since he wore the barrel-shirt." another union soldier, a member of company b, thirteenth massachusetts volunteers, writes that while with general banks at darnstown, virginia, he saw a man thus punished who had been found guilty of stealing: with his head in one hole, and his arms in smaller holes on either side of the barrel, placarded "i am a thief," he was under a corporal's guard marched with a drum beating the rogue's march through all the streets of the brigade to which his regiment was attached. another officer tells me of thus punishing a man who stole liquor. his barrel was ornamented with bottles on either side simulating epaulets, and was labelled "i stole whiskey." many other instances might be given. there was usually no military authority for these punishments, but they were simply ordered in cases which seemed too petty for the formality of a court-martial. this "barrel-shirt," which was evidently so frequently used in our civil war, was known as the drunkard's cloak, and it was largely employed in past centuries on the continent. sir william brereton, in his _travels in holland_, , notes its use in delft; so does pepys in the year . evelyn writes in that in the senate house in delft he saw "a weighty vessel of wood not unlike a butter churn," which was used to punish women, who were led about the town in it. howard notes its presence in danish prisons in under the name of the "spanish mantle." the only contemporary account i know of its being worn in england is in a book written by ralph gardner, printed in , and entitled _england's grievance discovered_, etc. the author says: "he affirms he hath seen men drove up and down the streets, with a great tub or barrel open in the sides, with a hole in one end to put through their heads, and so cover their shoulders and bodies, down to the small of their legs, and then close the same; called the new-fashion cloak, and so make them march to the view of all beholders, and this is their punishment for drunkards and the like." it is also interesting and suggestive to note that by tradition the drunkard's cloak was in use in cromwell's army; but the steps that led from its use among the roundheads to its use in the army of the potomac are, i fear, forever lost. xi branding and maiming there is nothing more abhorrent to the general sentiment of humanity to-day than the universal custom of all civilized nations, until the present century, of branding and maiming criminals. in these barbarous methods of degrading criminals the colonists in america followed the customs and copied the laws of the fatherland. our ancestors were not squeamish. the sight of a man lopped of his ears, or slit of his nostrils, or with a seared brand or great gash in his forehead or cheek could not affect the stout stomachs that cheerfully and eagerly gathered around the bloody whipping-post and the gallows. [illustration: branding.] let us recount the welcome of new england christians to the first quakers on american soil. in the vanguard, two women, ann austin and mary fisher, appeared in boston, from the barbadoes. they were promptly imprisoned and speedily sent back whence they came; and a premonitory law was passed to punish shipmasters who presumed to bring over more quakers. others immediately followed, however, and fierce laws and cruel sentences greeted them; within four years after that first appearance scores of quakers had been stripped naked, whipped, pilloried, stocked, caged, imprisoned, laid neck and heels, branded and maimed; and four had been hanged in boston by our puritan forefathers. i know nothing more chilling to our present glow of puritan ancestor-worship in new england than the reading of quaker george bishop's account of _new england judged by the spirit of the lord_. page after page of merciless cruelty is displayed in forcible, simple language. here is an account of a quaker's treatment in new haven for worshipping god in his chosen way: "the drum was beat, the people gather'd, norton was fetch'd and stripp'd to the waste, and set with his back to the magistrates, and given in their view thirty-six cruel stripes with a knotted cord, and his hand made fast in the stocks where they had set his body before, and burn'd very deep with a red-hot iron with h. for heresie." quaker women were punished with equal ferocity. bishop says of mary clark: "her tender body ye unmercifully tore with twenty stripes of a three-fold-corded-knotted whip; as near as the hangman could all in one place, fetching his stroaks with the greatest strength & advantage." the constables of twelve massachusetts and new hampshire towns were notified of four "rougue and vagabond quakers" named anna coleman, mary tompkins, alice andrews and alice ambrose. "you are enjoined to make them fast to the cart-tail & draw them through your several towns, and whip them on their naked backs not exceeding ten stripes in each town, and so convey them from constable to constable on your perill?" these women were whipped until the blood ran down their shoulders and breasts, and the men of the town of salisbury rose in righteous wrath and tore them away from the cart and the constables. quakers were ordered never to return after being banished from any town. in the "massachusetts colonial records" of the year read the penalty for disobediently returning: "a quaker if male for the first offense shall have one of his eares cutt off; for the second offense have his other eare cutt off; a woman shalbe severely whipt; for the third offense they, he or she, shall have their tongues bored through with a hot iron." they were also to be branded with the letter r on the right shoulder. they were called "blasphemous hereticks" by the magistrates, and any who read books of their "devilish opinions" were to be punished with severity. new york and virginia were likewise intolerant and cruel to the quakers, but were less visited by them than massachusetts. in the despotism of early virginia, under the code of martial law established by sir thomas dale, the fierceness of punishment was appalling; possibly the arbitrariness was necessary to control the turbulent community, but the cruelty shocked dale's successor, governor yeardly, who proclaimed that the "cruel laws by which the ancient planters had been governed" should be abolished. under the laws proclaimed by dale, absence from church was a capital offense. one man was broken on the wheel, one of the few instances known in the colonies. blasphemy was punished by boring the tongue with a red hot bodkin; one offender was thus punished and chained to a tree to die. a mr. barnes of bermuda hundred, for uttering detracting words against another virginia gentleman, was condemned to have his tongue bored through with an awl, to pass through a guard of forty men, and be butted by every one of them. at the end to be knocked down and footed out of the fort, which must have effectively finished mr. barnes of virginia. yet dale was an ardent christian, beloved by his pastor, who said he was "a man of great knowledge in divinity and a good conscience in all things." he is an interesting figure in virginia history--a sturdy watch-dog--tearing and rending with a cruelty equal to his zeal every offender against the common-weal. in maryland blasphemy was similarly punished. for the first offense the tongue was to be bored, and a fine paid of twenty pounds. for the second offense the blasphemer was to be stigmatized in the forehead with the letter b and the fine was doubled. for the third offense the penalty was death. until the reign of queen anne the punishment of an english officer for blasphemy was boring the tongue with a hot iron. a curious punishment for swearing was ordered by the president of the pioneer expedition into virginia as told by captain john smith. the english gallants who came to the colony for adventure or to escape punishment were very tender-handed. they were sent into the woods to cut down trees for clapboard, but their hands soon blistered under the heavy axe helves, and the pain caused them to frequently cry out in great oaths. the president ordered that every oath should be noted, and for each a can of water was poured down the sleeve of the person who had been guilty of uttering it. in haddon, derbyshire, england, is a relic of a similar punishment, an iron handcuff fastened to the woodwork of the banqueting hall. a sneak-cup who "balked his liquor" or any one who committed any violation of the convivial customs of that day and place, had his wrist placed in the iron ring, and a can of cold water, or the liquor he declined was poured up his sleeve. it is interesting to note in the statutes of virginia and maryland the honor that for decades hedged around the domestic hog. the crime of hog stealing is minutely defined and specified, and vested with bitter retribution. it was enacted by the maryland assembly that for the first offense the criminal should stand in the pillory "four compleat hours," have his ears cropped and pay treble damages; for the second offense be stigmatized on the forehead with the letter h and pay treble damages; for the third be adjudged a "fellon," and therefore receive capital punishment. in virginia in the hog-stealer for the first offense received "twenty-five lashes well laid on at the publick whipping-post;" for the second offense he was set two hours in the pillory and had both ears nailed thereto, at the end of the two hours _to have the ears slit loose_; for the third offense, death. were the culprit in either province a slave, the cruelty and punishment were doubled. for all hog-stealers, whether bond or free, there was no benefit of clergy, which was the ameliorating plea, permissible in some felonies of being able to read "clerkly." it is evident that in early days this plea could not extend to a very large number in any community. it was originally a monkish privilege extended to english ecclesiastics in criminal processes in secular courts. it was granted originally in and was not abolished in england till . the minutes of the court of general quarter sessions in new york bear many records of criminals who pleaded "the benefit," and instead of hanging on a gallows, were branded on the brawn of the left thumb with t in open court and then discharged. benefit of clergy existed and was in force in new york state till february , . in salem men and women offenders constantly pleaded commutation through benefit of clergy. in a counterfeiter of that time was sentenced to death. he pleaded benefit of clergy, and was respited, and instead of his original sentence was burnt in the hand. a woman for polyandry was similarly benefited by the same plea. this power of claiming amelioration of sentence lasted in massachusetts till the year , when it was forever nullified by the laws of massachusetts under the new united states. in virginia, benefit of clergy was a constant plea, and was recognized in all cases save, as has been said, in hog-stealing. in maryland branding was legal, and every county was ordered to have branding-irons. the lettering was specifically defined and enjoined. s. l. stood for seditious libel, and could be burnt on either cheek. m. stood for manslaughter, t. for thief, and could be branded on the left hand. r. was for rogue or vagabond, and was branded on the shoulder. coiners could for the second offense be branded on the cheek f. for forgery. burglary was punished in all the colonies by branding. by the provincial laws of new hampshire, of , a burglar was branded with a capital b in the right hand for the first offense, in the left hand for the second, "and if either be committed on the lord's daye his brand shall bee sett on his forehead." by governor eaton's code of laws for the connecticut colonists the punishment was equally severe. "if any person commit burglary or rob any person on the lord's day he shalbe burned and whipped and for a second offense burned on the left hand, stand in the pillory and wear a halter around his neck in the daytime visibly as a mark of infamy." a forger of deeds could be branded in the forehead with the letter f; while for defacing the records the offender could be disfranchised and branded in the face. a forger was branded in worcester in . a man who sold arms and powder and shot to the indians was branded with the letter i. counterfeiters were branded and often had the ears cropped. a conviction and sentence in newport in was thus reported in the daily newspapers: "william carlisle was convicted of passing counterfeit dollars, and sentenced to stand one hour in the pillory on little-rest hill, next friday, to have both ears cropped, to be branded on both cheeks with the letter r, to pay a fine of one hundred dollars and cost of prosecution, and to stand committed till sentence performed." in virginia many offenses were punished by loss of the ears or by slitting the ears. among other penalties decreed to "deceiptful bakers," dishonest cooks, cheating fishermen, or careless fish dressers was "to loose his eares." truly long hair and wigs had their ulterior uses in colonial days when ear-cropping was thus rife. romantic old tales of life on the road tell of carefully hidden deformities, of mysterious gauntleted strangers, whose hands displayed when revealed the lurid brand of past villainies. life was dull and cramped in those days, but there were diversions; when the breeze might lift the locks from your friends or your lover's cheek and give a glimpse of ghastly hole instead of an ear, or display a burning letter on the forehead; when his shoulder under his lace collar might be branded with a rogue's mark, or be banded beneath his velvet doublet with the scars and welts of fierce lashes of the cat-o'-nine tails. brand and brank have passed away, the stocks and pillory no longer grace our village greens. we pride ourselves on our humanity, our justice. therefore it may be well to note that we have now in the united states the most extreme code in the entire world in regard to capital punishment--sixty-two crimes punishable by death. a bill is before the senate to strike sixteen offenses from our brutal list. belgium, holland, brazil, italy, portugal, gautemala, venezuela and costa rica have wholly abolished the death penalty. in cruel russia the death sentence has been since never pronounced save for treason, while china has only eleven capital offenses. we have adhered to obsolete english laws while england has done away with them and has now only four capital crimes. it is certainly surprising and even mortifying to know that in maryland setting fire to a hay-rick is to this day punishable by death. transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. the unmatched parenthesis on page is presented as in the original. the following misprints have been corrected: "ultra-sensativeness" corrected to "ultra-sensitiveness" (page ) "rver" corrected to "river" (page ) "in in" corrected to "in" (page ) "pinehon" corrected to "pinchon" (page ) "similiar peformance" corrected to "similar performance" (page ) "freqent" corrected to "frequent" (page ) "the the" corrected to "the" (page ) other than the corrections listed above, inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original. the criminal & the community by james devon medical officer of h.m. prison at glasgow with an introduction by prof. a. f. murison, ll.d. "great men are not always wise: neither do the aged understand judgment. therefore i said, hearken unto me; i also will shew mine opinion." _job_ xxxii. , . toronto: bell and cockburn london: john lane mcmxii william brendon and son, ltd., printers plymouth, england to matthew g. kelso and samuel gibson friends indeed introduction the importance of the subjects handled in this volume requires no demonstration. already, and for long, the treatment of them has naturally engaged the sympathetic study of philanthropists, and more recently it has attracted the earnest attention of scientific inquirers. hitherto, however, the results have been far from satisfactory; and there is ample room for further discussion, especially from the standpoint of a thoroughly practical man with large experience both of criminals and of the social conditions that breed them. nowadays there is a growing sense of social interdependence; there is a more general and a more definitely realized aim to elevate the condition of the less fortunate of our fellow-citizens; there are express efforts of scientific investigators to discover a firm basis for practical reforms; and practical reforms are urgent. such tendencies of thought and feeling may be expected to go far to ensure a warm welcome to this volume. dr. devon's book is executed on a breadth of scale never before attempted. it has three distinct parts: the criminal; common factors in the causation of crime; the treatment of the criminal. his exposition is perfectly clear; he sees precisely, and he states directly, simply, and definitely what he sees and what he thinks about it, very frequently driving home a point with epigrammatic force. if he throws overboard unceremoniously what he regards as mere lumber accumulated by the industry of speculation divorced from experience; if he betrays some impatience with existing theories and systems; if he advances his own views with confidence--the handling is at any rate piquant, and brings the matter promptly to a head. we are supposed to have travelled far from the mediæval brutality of prison life, but have the changes not been superficial rather than deep? setting aside the catalogue of minor regulations and regarding the broad spirit of prison life, one cannot but recognize that the conditions still prevailing have much in common with the past. if we look for the really essential changes during a hundred years, we find just these: ( ) a surface cleanliness of apparent perfection; ( ) conversation, prison visits, and arrangements tending towards a decent sociability between prisoners and prisoners and between prisoners and the public reduced and rendered difficult by multitudinous bye-laws. on the one hand, a cleanliness obtainable only by irritating industry disproportionate to its proper value; on the other hand, a reduction of such facilities as are most likely to prevent a prisoner from degenerating to a social alien, an automatic machine, or a lunatic. the after-effects of a long sojourn in prison are not readily realizable: it would require a very lively imagination to picture the life and its inherent possibilities. the fact that some prisoners do manage to get through their existence without falling into despair may be taken rather as a tribute to the chances of exception confounding rule than as a proof of conversion to virtue through punishment. it is too much to expect that an ordinary man that has been incarcerated for a period of seven, or five, or even three years, can become, on his liberation, once more a "respectable" member of society. his spirit has been cowed; his self-respect has been annihilated; he has been disqualified for reabsorption in the community; he has been prepared to gravitate once more towards crime and prison. another unfortunate aspect is the position of the prison warder. apart from the care of those under him, he is subject to so much personal discipline--is so much the slave of "rules"--that his life often becomes little superior to that of his charges. in point of social origin or of intellectual attainments he is not inferior to the ordinary policeman; but, while the policeman is taught by society, the warder spends most of his time in an atmosphere of degradation, fatal both to character and to intellect. we are pretty well agreed that consideration and sympathy should be extended to the first offender, except in case of sheer brutality--and, as dr. devon points out, even a man that commits an act of brutality is not necessarily a brute--for the first offender is usually the victim of "accidental misconduct." in the case of the habitual offender, who returns to prison time after time for various transgressions, it would seem judicious to keep him permanently from actual freedom, but to treat him more as a diseased and positively dangerous man than as a noxious animal. at any rate, first offenders should not be herded together with case-hardened criminals. dr. devon argues stoutly for the liberation of prisoners when responsible citizens come forward to undertake for necessary periods the guardianship and care of them. on this point it is important to note his precise position: it is not for a moment to be thought that he advocates any reckless liberation of scoundrels upon society. let us see his actual words: "unconditional liberation has ended in disaster to all concerned. conditional liberation can only be expected to produce good results if the conditions are reasonable.... a prison ought merely to be a place of detention in which offenders are placed till some proper provision is made for their supervision and means of livelihood in the community.... the prison in which they would be placed would not be a reformatory institution where all sorts of futile experiments would be made, but simply a place of detention in which they would be required each to attend on himself until he had made up his mind to accept the greater degree of liberty implied in life outside. the door of his cell would be opened to let him out when he had reached this conclusion; but it would not be opened to let him out, as at present, to play a game of hare and hounds with the police." the argument hinges on the conditions. side by side with this, the state might well note the advantage of pursuing the scheme of letting first offenders out on probation; giving them guidance and help in welldoing, and impressing upon them the inevitable consequence of restraint in case of violation of the law. in this way the transgressor--unless he be of the stuff of which arrant evildoers are made--seems more likely to feel repentance instead of remorse. he is shown clearly the power and the certainty of the law; and at the same time he avoids the stain a prison life must inevitably have left, even though the imprisonment had been of a comparatively short duration. dr. devon expounds, with irresistible logic, an argument in favour of a proper training of the class most in need of it. it must not be forgotten that ignorance cannot be expected to reason, and that poverty is heavily handicapped. many offenders do evil simply because they have never known good. to punish these with blind and brutish vehemence is only a little less callous than ill-treatment of mental derelicts and little children. the principal aims of a prison system are presumably to punish offenders and to induce them not to offend again. in neither case can the present system be regarded as successful: it provides neither a proper punishment nor an effective deterrent. that the influence is brutalising cannot be ignored: the savage become bestial, the refined become tragically shamed outcasts. it is not to be anticipated that dr. devon will at all points and at once conciliate agreement. probably he is the last man to expect it. perhaps it is even undesirable that his views should be accepted without keen discussion. but dr. devon is a seasoned warrior, well accustomed to fight his own battles; and no man is readier to acknowledge frankly a sound criticism. dr. devon begins and ends on the same note: absolute necessity for the "recognition of social conditions as they exist." yes, "as they exist"; and not otherwise. his official position as medical officer of a large prison for more than half a generation, and a long experience as one of the examiners for the crown for criminal cases in the west of scotland, give him a right to a hearing on the medical and official aspects of the subject. there have been other writers that could claim official knowledge of the subject but dr. devon's qualifications on the social side are exceptional. he was helping to earn his own living before he was eleven, and his knowledge of the conditions of life among the working class has not been acquired from the outside. he had a practical acquaintanceship with the work of the unskilled labourer and of the artisan before he began the study of medicine; and his professional life, spent mainly in the poorhouse and the prison, has given him opportunities for outside observation of conditions with which he had had an earlier and more intimate acquaintance. he has been emphatically a man of the people, going in and out among his fellow-citizens of all classes for many years--lecturing, sharing confidences, advising and counselling every day, and, in a word, familiarising himself with every aspect of the diversified social life around him; an incalculable advantage when utilized by a keen intellect and a sympathetic heart. it will be found, then, that he has brought together the two factors of the problem--the criminal and society--with a solvent power beyond any previous effort. i believe that his book is the most illuminating and the wisest that has ever been written on the subject. contents part i the study of the criminal chapter i the criminal and the criminologists classification of criminals--the treatment of the criminal not a medical but a social question--technical differences between crimes and offences--changes in the law--vice and crime--the beginner in crime--common characters of the "criminal class"--atrocious crimes exceptional--so-called scientific studies of the criminal--how figures mislead-- composite photographs and averages--estimate of character from physical examination--causal relationship to crime of these characters _pages_ - chapter ii heredity and crime does heredity account for one quality more than another?--impossibility of forecasting the conduct of others--do criminals breed criminals?--the fit and the unfit--unequal endowments--ability and position--inherited faculties and social pressure--crime the result of wrongly directed powers--original sin and heredity--heredity behind everything - chapter iii insanity and crime insanity and responsibility--removal of the insane from prison--crime resulting from insanity--case of theft--of embezzlement--of fire-raising--insanity and murder charges--the result of an act not a guide to the nature of the act--observation of prisoners charged with certain offences--insanity as a result of misconduct--cases--the mentally defective--cases - chapter iv physical defects and crime physical defects beget sympathy--rarely induce crime--may cause mental degeneration--case of jealousy and murder - chapter v the study of the criminal the reliability of prisoners' statements--deceit or misunderstanding?--frankness and knowledge required on the part of the investigator--the prisoner's statement should form the basis of enquiry--information and help obtained from former friends--the diffusion of knowledge so obtained--the prevention of crime and the accumulation of knowledge - part ii common factors in the causation of crime chapter i drink and crime drink commonly accredited with the production of crime-- minor offences usually committed under its influence-- drink a factor in the causation of most crimes against the person--double personality caused by drink--drunken cruelty--drunken rage--assaults on the drunken--sexual offences--child neglect--mental defect behind the drunkenness of some offenders--malicious mischief and theft--drunken kleptomania--the professional criminal and drink--thefts from the drunken--amount of crime not in ratio to amount of drinking in a district--the vice existent apart from crime, in the country--and in the wealthier parts of the city--drunkenness and statistics-- summary - chapter ii poverty, destitution, overcrowding, and crime the majority of persons in prison there because of their poverty--poverty and drink--poverty and petty offences-- poverty and thrift--poverty and destitution--case of theft from destitution--poverty and vagrancy--unemployment and beggary--formation of professional offenders--the case of the old--the degradation of the unemployed to unemployability--no ratio between the amount of poverty alone and the amount of crime--a definite ratio between density of population and crime--slum life--overcrowding-- cases of destitution and overcrowding--overcrowding and decency--poverty and overcrowding in relation to offences against the person--the poor and officials--the absence of opportunity for rational recreation--the migratory character of the population--the multiplication of laws and of penalties--transgressions due to ignorance and to inability to conform--contrast between city and country administration--case of petty offender--treatment induces further offences--the city the hiding-place of the professional criminal--crime largely a by-product of city life - chapter iii immigration and crime the stranger most likely to offend--the reaction to new surroundings--the difficulty of recovery--the attraction of the city--the churches and the immigrant--benevolent associations--the alien immigrants--their tendency to hold themselves apart--deportation--a language test required-- the alien criminal--his dangerous character--the need for powers to deal with him - chapter iv social conditions and crime the millionaire and the pauper--ill-feeling and misunderstanding--social ambitions--case of embezzlement-- preaching and practice--gambling--the desire to "get on"-- the need to deal with those who profit by the helplessness of others--political action--its difficulty--legislation and administration--the official and the public--personal aid--fellowship - chapter v age and crime the inexperience of youth--the training of boys--case of a truant--another case--intractability--the foolishness of parent and teacher--the absence of mutual understanding-- recreation--malicious mischief and petty theft--the cause thereof--the need for instructing parents--pernicious literature--the other kind--the modern dick turpin--the boy as he leaves school--amusements--repression-- blind-alley occupations--the adolescent--physical strain of many occupations--unequal physical and mental development--the street trader--hooliganism--knowledge and experience--the perils of youth--old age - chapter vi sex and crime the position of woman--the posturing of men--love and crime--two cases of theft from sexual attraction--the female thief--case--blackmailing--jealousy and crime--two murder cases--case of assault--fewer women than men are criminals--their greater difficulty in recovery--young girls and sexual offences--the perils of girlhood--wages and conduct--exotic standards of dress--ignorance and wrongdoing--the domestic servant--her difficulties-- concealment of pregnancy cases--the culprit and the father--morals--the fallen woman--bigamy - chapter vii punishment the universal cure-all--the public and the advertising healer--the essence of all quackery--the quackery of punishment--rational treatment--justice not bad temper-- retribution--our fathers and ourselves--their methods not necessarily suitable to our time--capital punishment--the incurable and the incorrigible--objections to capital punishment apply in degree to all punishment--the "cat"-- the executioner and the surgeon--whipping and its effect--the flogged offender--the act and the intention-- pain and vitality--unequal effects of punishment--fines and their burden--who is punished most?--punishment and expiation--punishment and deterrence--social opinion the real deterrent--vicious social circles--respect for the law--prevention of crime - part iii the treatment of the criminal chapter i the machinery of the law the police and their duties--divided control--need for knowledge of local peculiarities--the fear of "corruption"--the police cell--cleanliness and discomfort--insufficient provision of diet, etc.--the casualty surgeon--the police court--the untrained magistrate--the assessor--pleas of "guilty"--case--apathy of the public--agents for the poor--the prison van--the sheriff court--the procurator-fiscal--procedure in the higher courts--the scottish jury - chapter ii the prison system centralisation--the constitution of the prison commission--parliamentary control--the commissioners--the rules--the visiting committee--the governor and the matron--the chaplain--the medical officer--the staff - chapter iii the prison and its routine reception of the prisoner--cleanliness and order--the plan of the prison--the cells--their furniture--the diet--the clothing--work--the workshops--separate confinement and association--gratuities--prison offences--complaints-- punishment cells--visits of the chaplain--visits of representatives of the churches--the gulf between visitor and visited--the chapel--the salvation army--rest-- recreation--the prison library--lectures--the airing-yard--physical drill - chapter iv variations in routine the sick--prison hospitals--the removal of the sick to outside hospitals--the wisdom of this course--the essential difference between a prison and other public institutions--the treatment of refractory prisoners--the folly of assuming that rules are more sacred than persons--the position of the medical officer in relation to the prisoner--the danger of divided responsibility--the untried prisoner--his privileges--civil prisoners-- imprisonment for contempt of court--the convict--short and long sentences - chapter v the prisoner on liberation his condition--his need--alleged persecution of ex-prisoners--discharged prisoners' aid societies--work-- temptations--the discharged female offender--the attitude of women towards her--"homes"--the women's objections to them--pay--the religious atmosphere and the harmful associations--the effect of imprisonment - chapter vi the inebriate home the need to find out why people do wrong before attempting to cure them--enquiries as to inebriety--the inebriates-- official utterances--cost and results--the grievance of the unreformed--the time limit of cure--the causes of failure--the fostering of old associations--the prospect of the future spree--the institution habit - chapter vii the prevention of crimes act ( ) the borstal experiment--provisions for the "reformation of young offenders"--is any diminution in the numbers of police expected?--preventive detention--the implied confession that penal servitude does not reform and the insistence on it as a preliminary to reform--the prisoner detained at the discretion of the prison officials--the powers of the secretary of state--the change under the statute--the necessary ignorance of the secretary of state by reason of his other duties--the "committees"--the habits to be taught--the teaching of trades--the ignorance of trades on the part of those who design to teach them-- the difficulty of teaching professions in institutions less than that of teaching trades--the vice of obedience taught--intelligent co-operation and senseless subordination--the military man in the industrial community - chapter viii the family as model the basis of the family not necessarily a blood tie-- adoption--the head and the centre of the family--the feeling of joint responsibility--the black sheep-- companionship and sympathy necessities in life--reform only possible when these are found--"conversion" only temporary in default of force of new interests--the one way in which reform is made permanent - chapter ix alternatives to imprisonment what is required--the case of the minor offenders--the incidence of fines--the prevention of drunkenness--clubs-- probation of offenders--its partial application--defects in its administration--the false position of the probation officer--guardians required--case of young girl--the plea of want of power--old and destitute offenders--prison and poorhouse - chapter x the better way the offender who has become reckless--if not killed they must be kept--the failure of the institution--boarding out--at present they are boarded out on liberation, but without supervision--guardians may be found when they are sought for--the result of boarding out children--the insane boarded out--unconditional liberation has failed-- conditional liberation with suitable provision has not been tried--no system of dealing with men, but only a method--no necessity for the formation of the habitual offender--the one principle in penology - index - part i the study of the criminal the criminal & the community chapter i the criminal and the criminologists classification of criminals--the treatment of the criminal not a medical but a social question--technical differences between crimes and offences--changes in the law--vice and crime--the beginner in crime--common characters of the "criminal class"--atrocious crimes exceptional--so-called scientific studies of the criminal--how figures mislead--composite photographs and averages--estimate of character from physical examination--causal relationship to crime of these characters. people were never more anxious to reform their neighbours than they are in our day. everyone admits the widespread existence of misery, degradation, and destitution; and many seem to think that the presence of these evils is a modern phenomenon. any man who has reached middle age and who has lived and worked among the masses of the people knows better. the evils are not new, but their widespread recognition is. for ages the few have been the governors of the many, and the governed have neither had the means nor the ability to communicate with their rulers and with one another. in our day the ends of the earth have been brought together by the invention of the engineer, and the schoolmaster has been abroad among the people. the writer reaches a larger contemporary audience, and the message of the speaker is carried over a greater area than was ever before possible. whether this has been wholly an advantage may be questioned; but there can be no doubt that things that were hidden have been made manifest, and one result has been that laws and institutions which our fathers accepted have been placed on their trial. our system of dealing with criminals has not escaped criticism and has not borne it well. like all systems, it is based largely on the assumption that men are, or ought to be, of one pattern. it is charged with failing to reform those who come under its sway; but there is nothing to show that it was designed for their reformation. men are brought under it as a punishment; and their acts, not their personality, are the cause of their imprisonment. experience has shown that the military man who applies impartially a set of rules to those who come under him has not been a success when placed in charge of an institution for dealing with offenders. it is not that he is less human than others, but that he is more rigid. differences among those placed in his charge have always been recognised; for instance, they could not all be treated as though they were the same height, nor could it be assumed that it was possible to secure uniformity amongst them in this respect; but only the most obvious differences were regarded. even elementary classifications could not be left to the man whose duty it was to administer rules, and so the doctor's aid was obtained in order to sort out those who were physically unfit to do any but light work; those to whom the diet was unsuited; and those who required to have special privileges granted them lest the system killed them. it is sometimes much easier to call in the doctor than to get rid of him; and largely on account of his work it has been shown that all classifications hitherto made have been inadequate. in the name of science he demands still further classifications. men can only be placed in classes because of certain qualities they have in common. every classification must neglect individual differences; and as it is these that mark men off one from another, any system or method of dealing with men will fail in so far as they are left out of account. the treatment of the criminal is not a medical question. it is a social question. a medical training is of more use to a man who is to study the subject than a military training would be. it is important to be able to form a rational opinion on the physical and mental capacity of a man; to know whether he suffers from any disease which impairs his faculties and to be able to direct treatment to the cure of that disease; but a considerable degree of knowledge regarding these things may coexist with an amazing amount of ignorance regarding the social conditions under which the person examined has been brought up and formed. give the medical man head and, so far as he is merely a medical man, he will be a more expensive nuisance than the military administrator. a great deal has been written about the study of the criminal, but any such study is defective and can only be misleading in so far as it is not a study of offenders in relation to their circumstances. "criminal" is as loose a term as "tradesman." it may mean anything, but so far as any real study is concerned it usually means nothing of any importance except to the printing and allied trades. when the character of the prisoner is estimated by men whose writings show no knowledge of his outside life, and is confined mainly to an enumeration of the selected physical, and imagined mental, characters of men while in prison, no study of the subject has been made that is worth any consideration, save for the purpose of formulating a theory without taking the trouble of ascertaining the important facts. the study of the criminal has mainly been based on observation and examination of persons in prison; but in prison the criminal is not himself. he whose obedience the law could not command, who kicked against restraint, is now compelled to direct all his acts under authority. his life has been arranged for him, and he might as well run his head against the wall as refuse to obey. everything is done with regularity and quietness, and the monotony of it all oppresses him. his inclinations are not consulted; his anger not regarded, except it transgress the rules. outside he may have a reputation for wit and sociability; in prison he has no encouragement to show these qualities. very likely he will talk freely to any official person who is of an enquiring turn of mind; he may be glad to have the chance; but he is on his guard, and will not communicate any information that may get his friends into trouble and himself into bad repute among them, unless he is going to gain a good deal by it; and not always even then. he learns to take advantage of every opening that offers any chance of increased comfort to himself, and he may readily make a general confession of sin and promise of amendment if thereby he can gain sympathy and obtain privileges. it is not surprising that he should behave in this manner--the principle of making friends with the mammon of unrighteousness is not unknown outside prison--but it is strange that people who might be supposed to know the conditions in which he is placed should talk as though the criminal were usually a stupid kind of person. any person who offends against the penal laws of the community in which he lives may be sent to prison; whether he be called an offender or a criminal will depend on consideration of points that are technical. generally speaking, persons convicted of offences against the person or against property are classed as criminals, while those who have transgressed against public order--as in breaches of the peace, etc.--are classed as offenders. "an act for the more effectual prevention of crime" ( & victoria, cap. , sec. ) defines the word "crime" to mean "in scotland any of the pleas of the crown, any theft, which in respect of any aggravation, or of the amount in value of the money, goods, or things stolen may be punished with penal servitude, any forgery, and any uttering base coin, or the possession of such coin with intent to utter the same." the pleas of the crown are murder, robbery, rape, and wilful fire-raising. those who have been convicted of crime as defined by the section quoted would properly be called criminals, but it is obvious that the name is applied and is applicable to many who do not fall under the definition. in practice the treatment of prisoners who have been convicted of offences is the same as that of those who have been convicted of crimes, when the sentence is one of imprisonment. the distinction between them is a technical one. if he is to be judged by the act of which he has been found guilty, the same person may at one time be called a criminal and at another time an offender. as a matter of fact, it is very difficult to draw the line between crimes and offences; and it is not uncommon to find that a man who has committed a heinous crime is not so wicked a character as another who has never been guilty of more than a petty offence. the largest number of persons in prison have been convicted of minor transgressions and have been dealt with in the police courts. many of these offences do not differ in character from those which engage the attention of the higher courts. their gravity is estimated either by the result of the act, or the bad record of the person committing it, or both factors together. thus if in the course of a quarrel one person should strike another and bleed his face, the police magistrate will assess the damage done to society; but if the blow break the injured person's nose, the case will pass to the sheriff. if a man in a drunken "spree" lift a pair of boots from a shop-door, the bailie will probably deal with him; but if, drunk or sober, he has been in the habit of taking other people's property, he may be sent to a higher court. the law differs in the same country at different times. it is the minimum standard of conduct to which all members of the community are required to conform, and, as public opinion changes, it undergoes alteration. men who in one generation have been executed as criminals have been honoured as martyrs in the next, while acts which at one time have been regarded as meritorious have at another time been severely punished. at no time will an honourable man do all that the law permits him to do, for his standard of conduct is higher than, and in advance of, the law. but a man may live a thoroughly vicious life; he may lie, act dishonestly, be cruel and vindictive--in short, break any or all of the ten commandments--and yet keep within the law. the law differs in different parts of the same country at the same time, and a man may find himself brought under its operation in one district for doing something which is permissible in another. this is a result of the special powers given to corporations, or is due to the adoption by one local authority of permissive legislation which a neighbouring authority has not adopted. it may be very puzzling to a stranger, but the principle of allowing the more enlightened districts freedom to improve their administration is at the back of it; whether they could not find a better way of carrying out their purposes than by sending to prison those who offend against them is another question altogether. even under similar laws the administration may be different. the more laws there are and the more rigid their administration, the greater will be the number of offenders. all kinds of people break the law. in some social positions there is less opportunity for doing so than in others, but the conditions in which many are placed make it easier for them to offend against certain regulations than to conform to them. all who are brought to prison for the first time are not first offenders. in some cases they have had a long and successful career before being apprehended, but even in these cases the physical and mental characteristics that would mark them off from others among whom they have been living are not apparent. a man's character and his characteristics are the result of interaction between outside influences and inherent faculties. he acquires habits of body and of mind, and they leave their mark on him. vice and crime are not the same thing, nor have they any necessary relationship. though generally the result of a vicious impulse or intention, there is hardly a crime in the calendar that might not be committed by a person acting from a higher moral standard than that set by the law. on the other hand, a vicious person may indulge in almost any vice and yet keep clear of the law; it all depends on how he does it. a dishonest person, if he puts his hand in the pocket of another and abstracts the contents, may be sent to prison; but if by appealing to the cupidity of his neighbours he can get them to put their hands in their own pockets and hand him over the proceeds in order that they may share in the el dorado he has invented, he robs them just as effectively and is not sent to prison. he may become a pillar of society and a legislator. when people are sent to prison for the first time all that has been determined is the fact that they have been guilty of breaking the law. there is no justification for assuming that their characters are, on the whole, worse than those of others. some of them may have committed very wicked crimes; but, except in a few cases, a thorough investigation of all the attendant circumstances might modify any impressions derived from the trial. even the commission of a fiendish act is not incompatible with a disposition that is usually and mainly good. we do not in practice assume that a man is a bad man because he has done a bad thing, any more than we credit him with being a good man because he has done a good thing. when the evil he has done has taken a criminal form we are as little entitled to judge the man by the act we condemn. the fact that a person is in prison hinders any attempt to study him. the investigator begins with a prejudice against him because of the crime he has committed. yet it is the most common thing to hear people who have known a prisoner intimately for years say that they could not have believed he would do the thing he has done. these people are quite as fit to judge character as those who are called scientific investigators, and they have better opportunities for doing so. they have not seen the weakness of their friends in the form it has taken. the investigator usually sees nothing else. if those who come to prison for the first time were made the subject of examination, it would be found that they are principally remarkable for the absence of what the books call criminal characteristics. prisoners differ as much from one another as people who are law-abiding. no two are alike even among those who have committed similar offences; and those who enter prison for the first time are not distinguishable in appearance from members of the same social class who have not transgressed the law. that they may develop certain common characteristics as a result of their way of living is true; and there is a criminal class in the same sense as there is a professional class or an artisan class. the criminal is born and made just as the policeman is born and made. see him early in his career and it is impossible to tell what he is, but when he has undergone his training it may be expected to leave its mark on him which those who know may read with more or less success. these common characters in the criminal have been laboriously sought for and recorded; measurements have been made and tables compiled; ratios have been calculated to decimals, and an appearance of scientific precision has been given to the study of the criminal which has led many to the assumption that the writers must know more about the offender than they themselves do. yet there are few men or women of mature years who have not known with some degree of intimacy at least one person who has sunk into the mire of vice and it may be of crime; and one such case thoroughly known is a better basis for study of the subject than any amount of tables. it may be of importance to compare the peculiarities of habitual offenders, but it is of greater use to learn how they acquired them. as for the habitual himself, he is not really the problem. his life is seldom a long one, and even if nothing other than is at present were done to, or for, him, he would die out in a generation. i do not say that the question of what we should do with our habituals is not important, but of much more importance is the devising of means for preventing the wrongdoer from acquiring the habit and joining their ranks. a study of confirmed criminals may be interesting pathology, but it is the study of the beginner in crime that will prevent the formation of the criminal class, in so far as it affords means for enabling us to deal sanely with them. when an atrocious crime is perpetrated there is intense public interest shown in the criminal. he is examined in a distorted mirror and his parts are magnified. the more extraordinary he is, the more monstrous he appears, the greater the sensation. yet the ordinary men and the ordinary offences are at once the more common and the more important. here and there a person may be born with such a crooked disposition that it is difficult to see how he could go straight; just as occasionally one of great wisdom enters the world, or a child with more than the usual number of heads or limbs; but the occurrence is quite exceptional, and it is never profitable to generalise from it. we have been reproached in this country with failure to make a scientific study of the criminal; and the works of foreign writers have been translated for our example and emulation. they contain a certain amount of information, but its value is not apparent. the importance of a book is not to be measured by the difficulty of understanding it. big and strange words may as easily mask an absence of useful knowledge as convey a fruitful idea, and the man who has anything of importance to say regarding his neighbour--even though that neighbour is a criminal--does not require a pseudo-scientific jargon in which to say it. the criminal is a man or a woman like the rest of us, and information about his head or his heels, while it may have a special value in relation to his case, should not be confounded with knowledge of himself. he is something more than a brain or a stomach. either the so-called criminal characters are the cause of the man's wrongdoing, the result of it, or have nothing to do with the matter. if they are the cause of the criminal act, how is it that they are admittedly present in others who are not criminals? it would certainly simplify the work of the police if they knew that they could with any degree of safety look for the perpetrator of certain kinds of crime among men with heads of a given shape; but anyone who glances at the illustrated papers will see for himself as many villainous-looking faces among notable people, even among able people, as he will find in a prison. our forefathers had a rule that when two persons were charged with the same crime and there was a doubt which of them was guilty, the uglier should be condemned. it is not stated whether the officials and governing classes were at that time chosen for their good looks. fortunately the practice has long since lapsed. unless a peculiarity is shown to have a causal relationship to crime its mere existence proves nothing except the fact that it is there. that in some cases physical defects do cause those who suffer from them to make war on society, is undoubtedly the case; but it is very far indeed from being the rule. there are many people who are prepared to regard a book as learned if it is sufficiently scrappy and contains figures arranged in a tabular form. yet figures when they deal with other than very simple things are almost invariably misleading; and the more so as they have such an appearance of exactness. it is easy for any two people to count the number of men in a room and to agree as to the result; but ask them to say how many tall men, how many with black hair, how many blue-eyed, how many straight-nosed--and you will get a different result each time. the figures will be exact--they cannot be otherwise--but your knowledge will be the reverse. if this is apparent in such a simple matter as the recording of physical characters, how much more apparent it is when an attempt is made to classify and generalise on men. most books admit that there are not sufficient data on which to base conclusions, and then proceed to suggest conclusions. the whole science of criminology is illustrated by the composite photographs published gravely as contributions; for a composite is a photograph of nobody at all. it is obtained by the superposition of photographs of different persons, and is itself different from any of them. it may represent them all as they ought to be, but it does not represent any of them as he is. it is the criminal in the abstract--who does not exist. it conveys in itself a warning against averages, for it is a pictorial presentment of an average. an average is the mean of different numbers. in dealing with masses of people--feeding them, for instance--by providing a certain average supply for each, all may be satisfied; but whenever the average is applied to individuals it is misapplied, and one finds he has too much, another that he has too little. measure two men; one is ft. in., the other ft. in.; the average height of both is ft. in., which is the height of neither. so when we have averages of height, weight, etc., given in the case of criminals, we know that we have been told nothing about any of them. the other physical characters of criminals in prison have been noted without any attempt having been made to ascertain whether, and if so when and how, they were acquired, and we are invited to contemplate a number of twisted and bloated faces, many of which could easily be matched among the non-criminals. see these men and women before debauchery has left its mark on them and they are no uglier than some of us who are set over them. as for the assessment of the mental characters of prisoners, the value of it will largely depend on the ability of the examiner to place himself in touch with them. few people believe nowadays that by feeling the knobs on the outside of a man's head you can tell the faculties within, far less whether these faculties will be used for good or ill; and we are not likely to advance the study of the criminal by founding conclusions on the measurements of his head, facial angle, etc. the new phrenology differs from the old in respect that it changes its terms and insists on more exactness of measurement. like the old, it may be fairly successful in judging men after they have shown their qualities. no one has yet discovered a reliable means of estimating the nature, quality, and amount of a man's mental powers from his appearance. we may learn what he says or does, but we can never be sure what he thinks. in practice we are all continually forming estimates of those we meet. some judge by the clothes, some by the expression, most of us not knowing how. so far as our impressions are concerned, however we think they have been arrived at, we all make mistakes and have all to revise our opinions. the man who prides himself on his ability to read character is usually the man who makes the most mistakes; his confidence misleads his judgment. even the shrewdest are occasionally deceived after many and varied opportunities of arriving at a correct estimate of their friends or enemies, yet for his own purposes each man's judgment may be, in the main, satisfactory and no one troubles about his neighbour's methods; but when they are erected into a science it is time to protest. the size and shape of the head, its malformations and asymmetry, may be measured with a fair amount of success. this and more has been done with a view to the future identification of individuals; but the theory underlying the practice of taking such measurements is that no two criminals are alike. the theory the criminologists seek to establish is that they are all very much alike. it is stated that so many men who have committed crimes have heads of a certain conformation, have peculiarities in the character of their skulls. if these physical deviations have a causal relation to their conduct, since the heads cannot be altered the criminals are therefore outwith reform. the church-people, on the other hand, hold that all wrongdoing springs from "the heart"--not meaning thereby the physical organ so called. you cannot give a man a new head free from the objectionable shape; but men have developed a new spirit, and from being bad have become good citizens without undergoing any physical alteration; so that after all it would appear that "the heart aye's, the part aye, that makes us right or wrong." chapter ii heredity and crime does heredity account for one quality more than another?-- impossibility of forecasting the conduct of others--do criminals breed criminals?--the fit and the unfit--unequal endowments--ability and position--inherited faculties and social pressure--crime the result of wrongly directed powers--original sin and heredity--heredity behind everything. in the effort to assign a general cause for criminality an undue emphasis may easily be placed on any one factor. there are those who seem to think that heredity is the main cause, but they rarely attempt to define the content of the term. in a sense heredity is the cause of everything, but in that case it cannot be held to be the cause of one thing more than of another. suppose a man becomes insane at the age of thirty and it is shown that a number of his relatives, direct and collateral, have also been insane. if heredity accounts for his insanity what will account for his sanity? such a man under treatment may recover, but sane or insane his heredity is not altered. the fact is that we none of us know enough regarding the qualities of our ancestors to be justified in imputing our inheritance of any special tendency to any particular one of them, and every successive generation implies a mixing, if not a blending, of very complex and sometimes opposing qualities. if a man knows anything about anybody in this world surely it is about himself. his knowledge is incomplete, but it is more full and varied than his knowledge of any other body. he may be expected to know something about the qualities and faculties of his wife. yet all he knows of himself and her, added to all he knows of the laws of heredity, does not enable him to forecast with any degree of accuracy the faculties and tendencies of his infant child, or to trace these back when they have developed. in the case of criminals born and brought up in hotbeds of vice it is even more hopeless to trace back family history, because there is often in their case a grave uncertainty as to the personality of the male parent. to say that as wolves breed wolves criminals breed criminals is nonsense and mischievous nonsense. as canaries breed canaries do poets breed poets? criminals are men and women who have gone wrong; not necessarily because of the possession of certain powers which they have inherited, but because these powers have been used in a wrong direction. they come from all classes; and there is nothing to show that if their children were taken from them early in life and brought up in favourable surroundings they would take to crime; but there is an abundance of evidence on the other side. there is a good deal of discussion nowadays regarding the fit and the unfit among us, and a tendency to forget that a classification of our fellow-citizens under one head or the other can only be made if we regard the terms as relative to the conditions under which they live. that very many prove their fitness to survive the continuous strain of economic pressure, can as little be questioned as that others sink under the ordeal. no one will deny that there is a good deal of unfitness shown by persons in a comfortable position economically; and if some of the apostles of fitness had any sense of humour they would hold their tongues and hide themselves, for neither intellectually nor physically do they show much claim to present an ideal standard. nobody denies that men are unequally endowed. some have a powerful physique; others have greater intellectual power. the usefulness of their endowment to themselves and to others will largely depend on the position in which they are placed. put them to work unsuited for them, or place them in positions where their faculties are not allowed free play, and they may do very badly. the difficulty is to get the right man in the right place. when he is in the wrong place he may be a nuisance to himself and others; but it does not follow that placed in another position he would not be a useful member of society. an attempt has been made to show that certain faculties are inherited and transmitted in certain families; but it is conveniently assumed that position is of no importance. everybody knows that, in the professions chosen to illustrate the theory, promotion is not wholly dependent on ability. that a father and son have both been judges offers no presumption of special fitness on the part of the son. that high military rank has been held by several members of the same family need not prove any of them to be great soldiers; that the government of the state is now in the hands of one family and now in the hands of another does not show anything more than that these families have been in a position to secure the offices. it would be a new and startling doctrine to assert that the man who is best fitted for a position always obtained it. everybody knows that the main consideration in determining an appointment is whether a man has influence enough to get it; and that influence need not depend on his personal ability, but on his position in relation to those in whose gift the appointment lies. granted equal ability in two men, let one of them start with family or social influence and the other with none, and there can be no doubt as to what will happen. that an able man will obtain influence in time is highly probable, but by the time he has gained recognition he is likely to be too old to benefit much by it. the stupid man who has a clever father has a better chance than the clever man whose father has shown no special ability. it is a very difficult thing for any man to learn the history of his family. in the case of the eminent you get no two biographies that are alike. an enquiry would show that this is equally true in the case of those who are not eminent. a man may have one reputation inside his family circle and quite a different reputation outside. we are all influenced in our conduct towards others by our opinions regarding them. a man who has pride in his ancestry will show it in his actions. there may be nothing to be proud about, but that will not prevent him playing his part. on the other hand, if he believes he has been disgraced by something that has been done by some member of the family, his conduct is likely to suffer from the belief. i have seen a woman whose brother was executed for murder sink under the disgrace into a condition of recklessness verging on insanity; and it is a matter of common observation that in some degree men have been broken in spirit by the shame brought upon them through the action of their relatives. it is impossible to discriminate between the part played by inherited tendencies and social pressure, in the production of certain acts. crime is not the result of inherited faculty, but of the direction in which that faculty is exercised. there are some families where the parents have been criminals and the sons have all done well; while the daughters have followed in the footsteps of their parents. in these cases it is probable that the determining factor has been the influence of the mother. her criminal acts and methods were more susceptible of imitation on the part of the daughters than on the part of the sons, and the girls, even though they had been willing to leave the house, would have had to face life outside under greater difficulties than the boys. the practice of singling out heredity as the cause of certain things to the exclusion of others has no sanction in experience. our forefathers recognised that all men showed imperfections. they saw that one man was given to envy; another to lust; another to covetousness; another to wrath; and so on through all the deadly sins. they attributed these defects to our heritage of original sin. the theologian has been displaced by the scientific man, and if heredity is a newer name for our ignorance it does not fit the facts any better. we inherit all the faculties and powers which we possess, but what they are only the event shows. nothing can be taken out of a man but what is in him, but there may be a good deal in him which is never taken out. we may develop certain faculties, but not unless they are first present; and the stimulus that they obey at one period in our lives may fail at another. we may estimate the capabilities of a man who is dead from observation of what he has done, but we cannot say that he might not have done better or worse had his life been prolonged. in the case of great men this is recognised, and we have laments over their early death and speculations as to what they might have done, or regrets that they lived too long for their fair fame. it is the same in the case of small men as of great. heredity is behind everything; not merely behind some things. if it explains a man's disease, in the same sense it must also explain his antecedent health. it cannot account for one part of his life more than another. even those who attribute disease or misconduct to heredity seek to cure the diseased person and to correct his bad habits. any success with which they meet is not obtained by altering his heredity, but by changing the conditions under which he has been living in such a way and to such an extent that he reacts favourably to the change. we are not warranted in saying of anybody that he is doomed by heredity to a life of vice or of crime. the conditions that suit one person may not be suitable to the healthy development of another, and the problem with regard to those who transgress our laws is to ascertain under what conditions they would behave best and place them there. though their family history may be of the blackest; though their ancestors may have been vicious, it by no means follows that it is impossible for them to be otherwise. when a man has done wrong it does not help him to be informed that he cannot do better. he is often more than willing to transfer the blame to the shoulders of others. it is more profitable to teach and help him to do well than to encourage him to curse his grandfather. there is only one way of finding out why people commit crimes and that is by making a patient enquiry in each case. the causes in many cases may be similar, but the part they play may be different. chapter iii insanity and crime insanity and responsibility--removal of the insane from prison--crime resulting from insanity--case of theft--of embezzlement--of fire-raising--insanity and murder charges--the result of an act not a guide to the nature of the act--observation of prisoners charged with certain offences--insanity as a result of misconduct--cases--the mentally defective--cases. there seems to be a widespread opinion that all criminals and offenders are more or less insane, but those who hold it have nothing to say in support of their view save that they cannot understand how certain crimes could be committed by any sane person. this is to beg the whole question, which is, how many persons who are charged with committing offences are found on examination to be unsound mentally? insanity has never been satisfactorily defined, but it is a term which in the legal sense connotes irresponsibility. yet if all insane persons had no sense of responsibility it is difficult to imagine how they could be suffered to live. even in lunatic asylums the great majority of the inmates can be induced to behave in such a way as to make it unnecessary to tie them up. they have a very large amount of liberty conceded to them without serious inconvenience to their neighbours and greatly to their own advantage. if they simply did what any stray notion impelled them to do this would not be possible. their affliction frees them from responsibility to the law for their actions; but in practice they have to show by their conduct that they can and will obey the rules of the institution in which they are placed before it is safe or reasonable to let them go freely about in it. the physician does not demand from them better conduct than their mental condition warrants him in expecting; but they learn, in so far as they are capable of learning, that their own actions will determine the degree to which they will be free from interference, and that the necessary result of misconduct will be increased restraint. only in so far as they show a sense of responsibility is it safe to allow them to be free from supervision. a person may suffer from such a degree of mental unsoundness as will free him from responsibility for his actions in the eyes of the law, and yet be able to conform to the rules laid down for the guidance of his life by an asylum superintendent. a very small proportion of prisoners are persons of unsound mind, and in most cases the mental unsoundness is the result of their own misconduct. in scotland there is no difficulty in freeing insane persons from prison. by section of the criminal and dangerous lunatics (scotland) amendment act, , it is provided that "when in relation to any person confined in a local prison in terms of the prisons (scotland) administration act, , it is certified on soul and conscience by two medical persons that they have visited and examined such prisoner, and that in their opinion he is insane, it shall be lawful for the sheriff, on summary application at the instance of the administrators of such prison, by a warrant under his hand, to order such prisoner to be removed to a lunatic asylum." the matter practically rests with the prison surgeon, for the prison commissioners on his report never raise any objection to the transfer of a convicted prisoner who is found to be insane. yet the same persons return again and yet again. the warrant for detention in an asylum expires with the period of the sentence of imprisonment, and the asylum authorities must obtain new certificates before they can continue to keep the patient. when the degree and kind of mental unsoundness is very marked there is no difficulty in getting the necessary documents; but when the patient has been benefited to the extent of being able to behave and speak no worse than many of his fellow-criminals, it is different. he is sent for examination to a man who is not acquainted with him. the doctor has to state facts observed by himself as a ground for certification; quite properly he is not permitted to ensure the detention of anybody on evidence that is second-hand. the patient is quiet and on his guard, and his examiner can make nothing of him. accordingly he goes back to his haunts and his vices, impatient of restraint, and is soon in the hands of the police again. clearly there is need of some modification in the law or its administration to permit of such persons being dealt with. insane offenders may be divided into two classes: those whose wrongdoing is the result of their insanity; and those who have been sound enough to begin with, but who have become insane, just as they have contracted physical diseases, as a result of vicious indulgence and its treatment. of the first-named class there may be one in about a thousand admissions. the crimes charged are of all kinds and degrees of gravity, as the following examples will show:-- x .--a man is brought to prison for the first time charged with a series of petty thefts committed while under the influence of drink. he shows signs of alcoholism, and is too dazed to give any account of himself. in a day or two the alcoholic symptoms have passed off and his general condition suggests enquiry. he has signs of mental disease which cannot now be confused with drink. it is found that, until a year before, he had been in business in an industrial town; that he had been a reputable citizen, quiet, peaceable, and abstemious in his habits; that he began to take to drink, and sold off his business, which realised several thousand pounds; and that he had since been lost to the knowledge of his friends. what happened in the interval i do not know. he was taken in charge by the police for stealing glasses from a public-house, weights from a shop-counter, and such-like things, which were certainly of no use to him and which he could not sell. the charge was dropped and he was sent to a lunatic asylum. x .--a young man is imprisoned on a charge of fire-raising. he is brisk, talkative, and cheerful, and laughs at the charge as ridiculous. beyond showing a high appreciation of his own qualities he does not do or say anything to attract attention, and as he is really "bright" his conceit only provokes a smile. he has no physical symptoms of brain disease, and it is not suggested on his behalf that he is mentally unsound. a decent workman who was interested in him called to say how well-behaved he had always been, and to ascertain what ought to be done by way of assisting his defence; and some things he said suggested the need for special enquiry. it was found that prisoner had always been energetic and bright at his work, and that he had good reason for boasting of his skill. his fellow-workers admitted that, though they disapproved of his bounce. he had been a teetotaler all his life and was a prominent member of a militant temperance society. he was very industrious and thrifty. he married a quiet, reputable girl who shared his opinions and ideals. he had saved some money and he suddenly made up his mind to start in business for himself. his wife did not approve of his doing so, as she did not like the risk and was quite content to go on in their accustomed ways. he persisted, and she yielded the point, but only when she saw her opposition was causing domestic strife. he rented a small workshop and furnished it. he got as much work as he could undertake--not a great amount--but before he had time to see how his venture would prosper, he conceived the idea of removing to a larger house. his wife was unable to see how he could safely do this, as she did not think he had money sufficient to justify such a course. her opposition only made him more insistent, and on one occasion he lost his temper so completely that she became alarmed. he threatened to kill her, and looked as though he meant it. when she spoke to him about this afterwards, he apologised and laughed it off; and as he had always been a most affectionate and dutiful husband she dropped the subject. things went on as before till one day there was a fire in his workshop. it was not got under till some damage was done, and it might have resulted in serious loss of life and property, as there were dwelling-houses adjoining. it was quite obviously the work of an incendiary, and he was arrested on a charge of fire-raising, as he could give no satisfactory account of his movements. on closer investigation it became quite apparent that he was a person of unsound mind. little things that had passed as peculiarities, receiving only a passing comment, when dovetailed into the story as i have related it left no room for doubt. the charge was dropped, he was sent to an asylum, and there he died two years later from general paralysis of the insane. in his case his fellow-workmen, seeing him from day to day, failed to observe more than a slight accentuation of the qualities they had been accustomed to see in him. he talked a lot about what he could do; he always did that. he offered to make certain articles for a man better than any other could; very likely he was able. he started business on an altogether inadequate capital; others have done the same thing. he wanted to set up in a higher style of living; he was always ambitious--and so on. until he set fire to his workshop they had never known him do anything inconsistent with his character, and while they laughed at his boasting they did not doubt his sanity. it was the same with his wife. she distrusted his judgment but did not doubt his sanity. his sudden murderous threat she put down to his temper. his temper she attributed to his want of sleep; for she admitted that he got up at night, and worked or moved about. on one occasion, she confessed, he had proposed that he should cut her throat and his own. he was quite quiet at the time and she thought it an ugly kind of joke, as he woke her to make the proposal; but she explained it to herself on the ground of overwork and sleeplessness. those who are coming most in contact with persons afflicted like this man are the last to see the significance of the changes taking place before them, because the transition is so gradual. this is true of people in all social classes. x was a professional man in a very good line of business. late in life he was arrested on a charge of embezzling large sums of money. when i saw him first he had a paralysis of the muscles of one hand, which was withered in consequence; and he could not articulate owing to paralysis of the muscles of the mechanism of speech. he put or answered questions in writing. enquiry showed that for many years he had been much respected and trusted. he had amassed a considerable fortune, and had been upright and honest in his dealings with others. he lived in the country and kept up a large establishment. his business was one which dealt in large sums of money. some years before his arrest he married for the second time, and there was trouble between his second wife and his family by her predecessor. he had always been an open-handed man, but latterly his public gifts had excited comment by their number and character. his mental condition, however, was never suspected by his family. they assumed his ability to afford anything he chose to buy. his wife left him as a result of his conduct to her and in doubt as to his sanity, but these doubts were not shared by his family. she said he had become capricious and sometimes cruel to her, and quite different from his ordinary self. he would sometimes bring in parcels of costly jewellery for which there was no need. in the end she became frightened to stay with him; but though she feared he might injure her, as he seemed to have taken a dislike to her, she never suspected that he was frittering away his substance. when the crash came it was found that he had within a short period thrown away tens of thousands of his own, and as much belonging to others who had trusted him. he had bought and sold property in a reckless way and without any authority to do so, his reputation enabling him to do things which in another would have been questioned. he was sent to an asylum. in his case the paralysis from which he suffered, gradual as it was in its onset, had attracted attention to itself and had actually masked the mental condition which accompanied or followed it. there are some crimes which in themselves shock us to such an extent that we find it difficult to believe that any sane man would commit them. in a book such as this i can only refer to certain sexual offences without discussing them, but even in these cases the crime need not infer insanity. we are no more justified in saying that a man is mad if he does a mad-like thing than in calling him wise if he does a wise-like thing. a man's criminal acts are only to be judged in relation to his other conduct if we would form a rational opinion as to his mental condition; and that again has to be considered in relation to the social condition in which he is placed before anything approaching a fair opinion as to its adequacy can be formed. if a man's criminal act were to be taken as sufficient to infer his insanity there are certain crimes for which we should never have anybody tried. every murderer would straightway be sent to a lunatic asylum on the plea that he must have been mad or he would not have done it; and yet that is precisely one of the most important points that have to be examined in the course of a trial for murder in scotland. murder is practically the only crime for which the death sentence is passed. scottish jurymen have shown a strong repugnance to be parties to the death of a criminal. they may favour capital punishment in theory, but, no matter how bad he may be, they shrink from handing a culprit over to the hangman; and they will seize any opportunity to escape from doing so if it is given them. they may be told they have nothing to do with results; that their duty is to find a verdict on the evidence; but they might as well be told to pull the bolt. they know what will happen. they do not seem to believe that they are not responsible for the necessary consequence of their acts, and in spite of the assurance of the law the verdict is a worry to them. few homicides are hanged in scotland, and there are few verdicts of murder, mainly for this reason. if the death penalty were abolished--if it were even made only a possible penalty--brutal murders would have a chance of being called by that name and not by "culpable homicide." for a time it was almost a matter of routine to set up a defence of insanity in murder cases where the facts could not be seriously contested. now in most assaults there is an element of accident. the assailant is in a state of rage and hits out wildly. the blow that will kill one man may only stun another. blows inflicted on one part of the body may cause little more than inconvenience, but if the same amount of violence be applied to another part death may result. i have known cases where as a result of assault the victim seemed to have sustained injuries sufficient to kill him, even though he had the nine lives sometimes attributed to a cat, and yet he recovered--maimed and permanently unfitted to support himself. that was not murder; in some respects it was worse; but there was no attempt to prove the assailant insane. if death had ended the suffering of the victim there would have been a plea of insanity set up. the determining factor in the plea was thus the physical condition of the assailed, not the mental condition of the assailant. in glasgow special care is taken in all cases of murder to enquire into the mental condition of the accused. from the time he is admitted to prison he is placed under observation with this purpose in view, and any evidence bearing on the subject is carefully examined. his conduct in prison may be perfectly sane, but if there is any reason to believe that, when at liberty, he showed signs of insanity, the medical officer personally makes an investigation and reports. the prisoner may be penniless, but he suffers no prejudice thereby, as the work is undertaken at the expense of the crown; and at the trial the necessary witnesses are usually produced on his behalf if the reports show that he is insane. this is true in other than murder cases to this extent, that the procurator fiscal informs the prison authorities of any allegation as to the prisoner's mental condition and asks for a report. he also puts before the judge any statement by the prison doctor as to the health of a prisoner mental or physical, even although the report may not have been asked for. insanity may be a result as well as a cause of misconduct. a life of alternate indulgence and repression tends to unsoundness of mind; and i have seen men and women, who when first they fell into criminal courses were free from any suspicion of insanity, gradually degenerate and become insane. when the kind of life they lead is considered the wonder is that so many of them do not become mad. x was a girl of the labouring class. she was handsome and of a fine figure. good-tempered and of an easy disposition, she was rather indolent; and as she was not trained in any very strong regard for morality and had plenty of admirers, she soon gave up working and took to the less restricted life of the town. she got into the hands of the police and was sent to prison, where her behaviour was beyond reproach. she did the work required of her and was always even-tempered and orderly. she took to drinking rather heavily, and during one imprisonment had a bad attack of delirium tremens, from which she recovered only to fall into a condition of dementia which remains and, though it has become less marked, leaves her unfit to take care of herself. her insanity is the direct result of her excesses. x got into bad company and was encouraged rather than corrected by her mother, who found her profit in her daughter's misdeeds. she left her work but did not take heavily to drink, and by and by came to prison charged with theft. she contracted disease in the course of her misconduct and began to take fits. she gradually became worse, as she gave herself no chance of recovery and neglected treatment when at liberty. she was in prison for short periods during two years and finally became insane and died. when first i saw her she was free from any mental or physical infirmity. her disease and death were the direct result of her way of living. x had always been a wild and uncontrollable lad. he entered the army and was soon found to be one of the bad bargains. he was ultimately discharged. he got into a lawless set in glasgow and picked up a living, sometimes honestly, sometimes otherwise. he suffered imprisonment on several occasions and was always a troublesome man to deal with. gradually he showed delusions of suspicion and had attacks of violence; and finally he had to be dealt with as a criminal lunatic. in his case there was from the beginning a condition of mental instability, which showed itself in his restlessness and impatience of restraint. it unfitted him for a soldier's life, and the discipline incident thereto was much more likely to aggravate than to remedy his condition. having no friends capable of directing him, he flew to excesses and was punished for the crimes in which he took part. than life in prison there could be nothing imagined that would be worse for him; and the monotony of it and the quiet would tend to develop the delusions which afterwards dominated his mind, and influenced his conduct to such an extent that under their influence he committed assaults and proved himself to be a dangerous lunatic. his case is different from the last two in respect that the very means adopted to deal with his excesses were largely the cause of his final insanity. short of cases of certifiable insanity there are a number of prisoners who are mentally defective. the total is small, but the individuals command an amount of attention, and cause an amount of trouble to the public, out of all proportion to their numbers. in some cases the defect consists of delayed development; the body and the passions have grown at a greater rate than the mental powers, but time and training would be likely to establish an equilibrium. in other cases there seems to be something wanting in their mental outfit--they "have a want," as it is put colloquially and expressively. many of them are capable of behaving themselves when under the guidance of well-disposed persons; and more may be found about religious meetings than in prison. they have come under the influence of the churches and have benefited thereby, and it is largely because no such healthy influence has been obtained over those others that they are in prison. they are usually quite tractable and pay obedience to stronger-minded persons. when these are law-abiding they cause no trouble, but when the influence is evil it is otherwise. mental powers that may be sufficient to enable a man to work and live in conformity with the law in one social position may be quite inadequate to enable him to support himself in another. there are men holding positions and discharging the duties required of them to the satisfaction of their employers, who would sink to a very low level if cast adrift. any fixed standard of mental capacity is irrational, since it leaves out of account the conditions under which the person examined has to live. the question is: is the person by reason of mental defect unable to bear the stress of life under the social conditions in which he is placed? is he fit to take care of himself and abstain from offending against the laws? whatever may be the view of lawyers on the matter, no business man expects the same conduct from a boy as from a man; nor will he trust a young man to the same extent as an old man. the younger man may possess more knowledge, but there is a difference between knowledge and experience, and a man may know right from wrong without having the experience of life that enables him to discount his passions and follow his knowledge. a person who is mentally defective, and who has the additional misfortune to be born into a family of poor people and brought up in a slum, if he transgress the law can only be dealt with as though he were as fully endowed as his neighbours. if he is not mentally unsound to such a degree as to justify his certification as insane, there is only the prison for him; with the prospect of hardships on liberation and imprisonment when he offends, till he is sufficiently mad, or his record and his condition combined are bad enough, to enable him to be placed under the treatment he ought to have received from the first. this is not necessarily the fault of those who administer the laws. the police are not justified in permitting offences to be committed; and whether the person who offends is sane or mentally defective it is their duty to arrest him. the medical men who may see him can only certify if they find him insane from their examination of him. even if he is sent to an asylum the medical superintendent cannot detain him if his condition improves so far that he behaves sanely there; and out he goes to the old struggle that he is quite unfit to face, with no one to help him or to exercise authority over him when he has a wayward turn. x is congenitally mentally defective, and he has been neglected. he has a stutter which makes it more difficult for him than for others equally weak-minded to get in touch with those around him and, asking questions, to learn. when he does make himself understood he has nothing of any great interest to say, and he is bound to find in the impatience of the ordinary man a barrier when he tries to speak. he cannot get work and there is not much he could do. he haunts outhouses at night for shelter and is arrested for trespassing in doing so. he is in a filthy condition and is a nuisance and an offence to those with whom he comes in contact. he is sent to prison for committing an offence which he cannot avoid committing and which is the direct result of the destitution incident on his mental defect and friendlessness. x is a quiet, peaceable, and rather attractive young woman. she was married to a respectable young man with a small wage. she behaved very well and seemed to be managing their home in a satisfactory manner, but to his surprise and horror she was one day arrested, and was afterwards convicted, for obtaining goods under false pretences. she had been unable to make her income serve for the support of the household, although she was not extravagant, and she had played up to her appearance and got certain articles by a story that was fraudulent. had she appealed to his friends she would have been assisted, but she took the other course from sheer mental incapacity to deal with her situation. her case was thoroughly investigated while she was in prison and arrangements were made for directing her on her liberation. she is quite tractable, has no vices, is anxious to do well, but is not fit to bear unaided the responsibilities of her position. the church to which she belongs has constituted itself her guardian now that her condition has been shown; and she is not likely to transgress so long as interest in her is sustained, nor to cost much in money to those who are looking after her. x is a lad who has got out of parental control and seeks adventures. he answers questions intelligently, if somewhat insolently, and so far as a merely professional examination would show is not defective mentally. he is to all appearance simply a bad boy. observation of his conduct in prison and enquiry outside, show the mental defect behind it. he has recurrent outbursts of temper without apparent cause, and while showing no sign of confused intelligence, he proceeds to smash things. he has been in prison for malicious mischief and for offences against decency as well as for theft. he is not given to drink, but is beginning to indulge when he can get a chance. he works intermittently, but cannot stay at anything for more than a short period. he was charged with housebreaking, but on a report from prison as to his mental condition he was certified as insane and was kept in an asylum for about a year. he had improved so much in conduct that he was discharged, but the medical superintendent expressed the opinion that left to himself he would probably break back; and he did; resuming his old practices within a short period of his liberation. he can do well enough under proper conditions, but is unfit to look after himself. x is a young woman who is strongly built and of a pleasant manner and appearance. she has been a domestic servant, but falling into bad company has given up work. at first she only appeared to be "soft" a little, but drink and excess have contributed to cause or to show--for in her case it is difficult to say which--mental deficiency. she is quiet and well-behaved in prison, and is of fair intelligence, but on liberation she resorts to the lowest haunts and indulges in such excesses that when brought back to prison she is in terror of death, she feels so ill. she was induced to place herself under control for a time, and she did well, working hard and cheerfully; but she returned to the city and resumed her old courses. all who know her recognise that she "has a want," but the defect is so slight that there is no possibility of having her dealt with for it, as the laws at present only enable her to be punished for its results. unless her excesses produce some marked degeneration--and, as she is reported to be having "fits" occasionally, that seems probable--all that can be done for her is to arrest and imprison her when she offends. when she is a wreck she will receive the kind of treatment and the guardianship that might save her were it possible to give it now. just as some prisoners become insane as a result of their criminal and vicious life, some undergo mental degeneration to a degree not certifiable. in the case of the older ones this is accompanied by such an amount of physical disability as compels them to seek refuge in the poorhouse, and they are only back to prison on the rare occasions that they leave its gates, induced thereto by a feeling of improvement and a renewed desire to visit their old haunts. taking insane and mentally defective prisoners together, their number is small relative to that of those who suffer from no mental deficiency. clearly then insanity will not account for crime in any except a very small number of cases. in fact the proportion of insane among prisoners generally is not greater than among the population outside, but in the case of females admitted for cruelty to children it is enormously in excess. chapter iv physical defects and crime physical defects beget sympathy--rarely induce crime--may cause mental degeneration--case of jealousy and murder. just as some degree of mental deficiency is not incompatible with the ability to live a peaceable and useful life, physical defects do not necessarily unfit a man to discharge his duties as a citizen. in either case the sphere of his usefulness is limited, but that is all that can be said. much will depend on his social position. when a person who is physically defective falls into evil courses, it appears likely that he should find it more difficult to return to the right path than one who is healthy and complete in all his parts; but this expectation leaves out of account the fact that the more pitiable and abandoned a man is the more does his condition appeal to the charitable. his very helplessness attracts attention and begets for him a consideration not given to those who are stronger; and if he will but place himself in their hands, there are many willing to look after the lost sheep whose condition is so pitiable. in some respects, and as things are at present, there is less need for anyone who suffers from physical disability taking to crime than for an ordinary citizen; for the law provides for him and prevents him suffering from destitution in respect that he is disabled.[ ] [ ] in scotland able-bodied destitute males are not eligible for poor law relief. physical defects are in very few cases the cause of offences. they narrow the opportunities of employment, and they lessen the chances of work even though the defect may not be of such a nature as to unfit a man for it; but except in so far as they may result in destitution--which, if due to disability, must be relieved by the parish on application--they rarely induce crimes. in some cases, however, serious crime can be traced to this cause. x was an energetic and industrious man. he was a teetotaler and took an active interest in local affairs. he was respected and trusted by his fellow-workmen and took a leading part in the trade and friendly societies to which he belonged. he also had an interest in books; read a good deal, considering his opportunities; and exercised his intelligence beyond most of his neighbours. he married a suitable partner and their family life was an evenly happy one. in the course of his employment he sustained an accident whereby he lost his arm. when he left the hospital his employers found a suitable place for him; and his income did not suffer appreciably, while his prospects were actually brighter in the new than they had been in the old situation. he began to brood over the loss of his limb, and by and by he became jealous of his wife. one day he made a murderous attack on her and was sent to prison. he was very penitent there, and quite reasonable. he explained that he had ceased to be the man he was when he married, and that since the loss of his arm his wife had regretted their union. she had never said so, but though she tried to hide her change of feeling he could see it. he detailed the causes of his jealousy; and when it was pointed out to him that, granting the facts, his inferences may have been all wrong, he admitted the force of the argument. at most he was unreasonably jealous, but not insane; and on going over certain incidents with him and supplying the explanations of them, he agreed that he had been too hasty in coming to the conclusions on which he had acted. he said that he could not blame his wife, even while he believed she had been unfaithful; that he could not bear to lose her and that was why he had attacked her; but that he was very sorry he had done her the wrong of suspecting her. he was convicted and sent to prison for a period and he behaved rationally and well. his wife was warned that his jealousy might reassert itself and that there was a probability that he would become certifiably insane if he continued to brood on his accident; and she was advised not to live alone with him. he behaved so well that the warning was forgotten. about a year after they had resumed housekeeping he nearly killed her and committed suicide. in this case the crime was traceable to the accident which caused the loss of the man's arm. the cause is exceptional only in respect to the seriousness of the crime, but it is not at all unusual for persons who have the misfortune to be lame or deformed to show a morbid sensitiveness on the subject. their defect overshadows their lives and colours their view of things, sometimes causing them to become reckless in their behaviour and offenders against the law. on the other hand, many develop a strain of piety and tenderness for their fellows. the presence of the defect proves nothing beyond its own existence. chapter v the study of the criminal the reliability of prisoners' statements--deceit or misunderstanding?--frankness and knowledge required on the part of the investigator--the prisoner's statement should form the basis of enquiry--information and help obtained from former friends--the diffusion of knowledge so obtained--the prevention of crime and the accumulation of knowledge. any study of the criminal based on observations made when he is in prison must of necessity be partial and misleading. it is like writing a natural history from a study of caged birds. parts will be right, but the whole will be wrong. advantage might be taken of his presence there to find out something of the antecedents of the prisoner. the opinions of experts may be of value with regard to him, but they are not nearly so useful as his own opinions on how he comes to be in prison, nor are they more reliable. prisoners are no more truthful than other people, but they are not generally purposeless liars. when a man is in trouble and is called on to give an account of himself he makes the best of his case; but people who have never been in prison have been known to make no disclaimer when praised for qualities they do not possess, preferring to let time correct any false impression that may be to their advantage. it is not reasonable to expect any higher standard of behaviour from a prisoner than we look for from others. much of what is harshly called lying on the part of prisoners is due to misapprehension on the part of their questioners. most of them do not waste lies. if the truth will serve, it is easier to tell it, to put the matter at its lowest; but they are frequently worried with questions they do not understand, put by persons whom they distrust, with the result that they leave an impression of stupidity and untrustworthiness that is not deserved. i remember a gentleman who considered himself a very acute observer, informing me with regard to a certain prisoner whom he had been questioning, that the man was weak-minded. i had very good reason for holding another opinion, but wishing to find out how the visitor had arrived at this conclusion, i interviewed the prisoner, and after some talk approached the subject of his recent examination. a smile overspread his face as he explained that he had been asked all sorts of questions by the stranger and had not been allowed to answer in his own way, so he got tired and let the other have it as he wished. his opinion of his examiner i obtained as a personal favour, for as he put it, "it's no for the like o' me to say onything aboot the like o' him--at least no here." i cannot print his words, all of them. he said, "he's a ---- of a flat." each had a poor opinion of the other, and how far each was right others may judge. the incident suggests several reflections. it is not reasonable to expect that a prisoner will take the trouble to understand and answer the questions of a stranger whose object in quizzing him he does not know. few of us would care to unbosom ourselves to the first visitor who chose to interest himself in our affairs. he might count himself lucky if he did not find himself violently expelled. the prisoner cannot throw an unwelcome visitor out, but sometimes he would like to; and the attitude of some who seek to do good is at times provocative. when the enquirer is known it is a different story. get the name of being "all right" and you will learn, but you must first deserve confidence. frankness begets frankness, and for my own part i have found very few prisoners who wilfully sought to deceive me when they knew why i sought information from them. it was either freely given, or withheld with the plain statement that they could not fairly give it. the information given has not always been accurate, but there are not so many people who are accurate in their statements--not through want of desire to be truthful, but because their perception, their memory, or both, are blurred. but more than frankness is required; there must be some ability to see things from the standpoint of those who are questioned, and a sufficient knowledge of their language to understand an answer when it is given. there are very many people who think they know the english language, and who do not seem to have realised the fact that a different significance is attached to words in different districts and among different classes. there are not merely slang words, but words used in a slang sense, and when these are taken literally the result is misunderstanding. yet we are sometimes treated to the result of investigations by people who have had no training, and who in a marvellously short time can obtain voluminous and striking information; how much it is worth is another question. try to get by question and answer a short record of the antecedents of any of your friends, and you will find that it cannot be done in a few minutes, that it will not be free from inaccuracies, and that it will require explanation before you understand it as they would like. to obtain such information from a stranger is a more difficult task. in the case of the prisoner the advantages to be gained are worth the effort to overcome the difficulties. having obtained his statement, it might form the basis of an enquiry into his case and an attempt to help him on his discharge. there are few men who have not some friends who are persons of goodwill. they may be relatives, or employers, or fellow-workmen; but their will may be greater than their power. their patience may have been tried to the limit of endurance or their interest may have become languid; but if they will not or cannot help, they can at least tell what they have done and prevent a repetition of the treatment that has failed. there are very many people who would never dream of joining a society for aiding prisoners, but who will willingly assist in helping a person whom they have known in his better days. the societies have their use, but that is no reason why a man's fellows should not be enlisted in his aid; though they have no interest in the general question, they may take an interest in the special case. in the attempt it will be found that, even though the efforts made to help a given prisoner should fail, a knowledge has been gained of the existence of conditions that favour ill-doing. every official knows that in a great city there are occasions of misconduct which the ordinary citizen does not suspect. such knowledge, so long as it is confined to officials, is comparatively sterile. they may speak, but some other matter distracts public attention before it has been focussed long enough on the subject to do any good. at most they may get further powers to do for the citizens things which the citizens could far better do for themselves. talk of slums to a man who is comfortable is often only talk, but set him to live in them and the effect is different. in the same way, if you can, through his personal interest in a man, get another to examine into the causes of his wrongdoing; to go over the ground for himself; to see the process and the means of his degradation; that man will note how many occasions of offence exist that might be removed, and if only for the safety of his own family will give assistance in removing them. incidentally and in process of time a large mass of information regarding the history of criminals and offenders would be collected, and some generalisations of importance might be made. at present those who generalise do so without any such careful study of the persons whom they deal with as that i recommend. for sixteen years i have been looking for the offender of the books and i have not met him. the offender familiar to me is not a type, but a man or a woman; and we shall never know nor deserve to know him till we are content to study him, not as the naturalist studies a beetle, but as a man studies his neighbour. part ii common factors in the causation of crime chapter i drink and crime drink commonly accredited with the production of crime--minor offences usually committed under its influence--drink a factor in the causation of most crimes against the person--double personality caused by drink--drunken cruelty--drunken rage--assaults on the drunken--sexual offences--child neglect--mental defect behind the drunkenness of some offenders--malicious mischief and theft--drunken kleptomania--the professional criminal and drink--thefts from the drunken--amount of crime not in ratio to amount of drinking in a district--the vice existent apart from crime, in the country--and in the wealthier parts of the city--drunkenness and statistics--summary. though the differences among prisoners in antecedents and faculties must be taken into account if they are to be treated in a rational manner, there are factors which are common to the causation of crime in many cases. their influence may vary in strength, but it cannot be disregarded. drink is denounced--and consumed--by all classes. there are many who attribute all evils to its use, and some of these take the logical course and advocate the prohibition of its manufacture and sale. others make the theory an excuse for doing nothing to remedy social conditions; for "you never can stop men from drinking," and if drink be the cause of social evils, and you cannot stop its use, why should they worry? any theory of the causation of evil will be fashionable if it offers a superficial explanation of the facts and affords an excuse for doing nothing more troublesome than giving good advice to the poorer classes. drink has brought misery and degradation on many, through their own indulgence or that of those on whom they have been dependent; if it does not cause, it is often an aggravation of poverty; and it is with no wish to minimise its ill effects that i protest against exaggerating them. our social troubles are not traceable to any one cause, and it is not profitable to single out a particular vice and place all evil to its account; nor is the practice more laudable when the vice is not one to which we are ourselves inclined. by all means let temperance be taught and drunkenness be discouraged; this too we shall do better when we search for the causes of intemperance. one of the statements most frequently made is that the great majority of crimes are due to drink. it would be more accurate to say that most prisoners were under the influence of drink at the time they committed the breach of the law for which they have been convicted. the great majority are petty offenders. strike them off and our prison population would at once be reduced by more than a half. they have been drunk and incapable of taking care of themselves, or they have committed a breach of the peace through drink. their sentences are short and their number is large. many of them are regular customers and return again and again in the course of the year. whether we are dealing wisely with them will bear discussion. they do not seem to be any the better for it so far as their conduct shows. they are enabled, in consequence of the rest and regular living of the prison, to start on their next spree in a better condition physically than would be the case if they were not detained there for a time; but this is rather a personal than a public gain. at present they swell our prison statistics and are a burden on the exchequer. that they should be mixed up with criminals is no advantage either to us or to them. the cause of their conviction is drink; but it does not make for clearness of statement to add their numbers to those of criminals who have committed crimes against the person or against property. crimes against the person are generally committed by people under the influence of drink, or on persons who are intoxicated. a man takes liquor to get out of himself, and is then in a condition to do or say things from which he would refrain if sober. some are not improved in temper as a result of their drinking, and are more prone to quarrel and less able to control their passion. it is commonly observed that a man can and does develop a double personality, showing one set of characteristics when sober and another when under the influence of drink. in both states he receives impressions, and his actions when sober show that the impulses which direct his acts are different from those which dominate him when he is intoxicated. just as his sober self is forgotten when he is drunk, his drunken self is forgotten when he is sober--not wholly, it may be, but in part. he seems more readily to remember violence suffered than violence inflicted by him. impressions received in one condition tend to be revived when the person is again in that condition. if when he gets quarrelsome and hits out he finds he has struck one who will strike back, he generally gets out of the way and avoids the danger from that kind of person on a subsequent occasion. just as he learns to keep clear of lamp-posts and other resistant objects, he learns to stop short of striking one who is likely to hurt him. the most serious assaults are not so much the outcome of drunken anger as of drunken cruelty; and, pent up in one direction, it finds vent in another. this passion seems to possess some men regularly, and it is indulged at the expense of those who offer least resistance to it, viz. the female members of their household. with them a habit is formed of assaulting their women-folk, and the habit grows in force and intensity. in most cases of brutal wife-murder that have come under my observation, the fatal assault has simply been the last of a series committed regularly when the culprit was under the influence of drink, and the woman's death was the final incident in a long-drawn-out martyrdom. in other cases men who are ordinarily peaceable find themselves in prison charged with assaults of which they have no distinct recollection, the result of sudden passion that has swept their minds when they were intoxicated. others become so pugnacious when they take drink that they are not content till they are in a row and do not seem to mind whether they get hurt or not. in their case--which seems to be the most common--it is not the lust of cruelty but the delight in battle that stirs them, and though they may get fully as much as they give, it does not deter them from repeating their conduct. another class of assaults is that committed on persons who are under the influence of drink, and who by their misconduct have provoked their assailant. they are relatively few, and the assault is rarely so brutal in character or so serious in result; though occasionally it may end tragically. x was a young man who married a girl of respectable character. they were both sober and industrious. she had been engaged in a factory before her marriage and had very little practical experience of housekeeping. she was not accustomed to household routine, and as her husband did not get home for his meals she had a lot of time on her hands. her house was in a different part of the city from that of her parents, and she had to make friends for herself. unfortunately she got into the company of some who gossiped together and moistened the talk with drink. at first she abstained, but by and by she began to do like the rest; and unlike them she could not control herself. she showed a tendency to excess which they tried to discourage for their own sakes as well as hers. her husband discovered her misconduct, and in order to break her of it removed to another district. for a time she did well, and her relatives helped her. but again she drifted in her search for company into that of those who took the "social glass." it is wonderful how a woman when she has once taken to drink finds a difficulty in making friendships with other women who have not done so, unless she becomes a militant teetotaler. in the present instance the young wife had relapse after relapse over a series of years, and her husband seems to have done all in his power to save her. she had two children, and when sober she attended to them adequately; but her fits of drinking began to occur more frequently, and in them she became more reckless. after one, in which she had sold out the household furniture and disappeared, she returned penitent and he set up house again with her. she kept sober for some weeks, they were getting things together, and he was trusting her with some money. one monday evening he went home from his work to find the house partially stripped, the children neglected, dirty, and in tears, and his wife in a dazed condition waiting to receive him with maudlin apologies. in his anger he pushed her from him. her body struck the corner of the table, and shortly after she fell and died. she had sustained rupture of an internal organ and she bled to death in a few minutes. the result was altogether disproportionate to the amount of violence used and was in a sense accidental, but her death could as truly be attributed to drink as many of those which result from the assaults of drunken persons. drink plays an important part in the commission of sexual offences, but it is not more generally a factor in such cases than in those of simple assaults. in the great majority of these charges against men under middle age it is found that the assailant was at the time under its influence, however; and in the most atrocious and unspeakable cases it is rarely absent unless when there is insanity present. of late years there has been an increasing desire on the part of the legislature to secure proper care for children, and to punish those who by negligence or cruelty allow their offspring to suffer. cases have been reported that reveal a shocking state of affairs, and parents have been prosecuted and sent to prison for their callousness and cruelty. of all prisoners these are usually the most hopeless and useless; the most entirely selfish in their outlook; the most inclined to grumble and shirk work; the persons with the keenest sense of their rights and the lowest sense of their responsibilities--this from a merely superficial observation of them. the care of the children falls naturally to the women; the provision for them to the men. the men have excuses to offer for the condition of the children, and these excuses are sometimes valid; for a man cannot be at the same time working outside to support his family and looking after them in the house. if the woman is given the money to defray the necessary expenses, and neglects their care, it is difficult for her to stand excused. in practically all the cases drink enters into the question, and its presence explains but does not excuse the neglect. it is a good thing for the children that they should be removed from the care of parents who are cruel to them either by neglecting or by maltreating them, and it is well that those who are inclined to carelessness should know that their conduct may form the subject of complaint; but a person may be physically fit to have children and mentally incapable of taking care of them. a large proportion of those women who have been convicted of cruelty to children are in this sad case. the evidence has been of the clearest that they have squandered their substance, indulged their appetites, and shamefully ill-used their offspring, but only after they have been placed out of the reach of drink is it possible to say whether at their best they are capable of undertaking the obligations they have incurred by becoming mothers. in some cases their mental condition has been so bad as to justify their removal to lunatic asylums; in other cases the mental defect is quite perceptible and is obviously such as to unfit them for their duties, but is not sufficiently marked to enable them to be cared for by the lunacy authority. drink has been held accountable for their conduct and it has had a share in its causation, but it has masked the permanent flaw behind it, whether that defect has existed before the subject gave way to drink or has resulted from drink. in the case of these women it is a serious matter to allow them to return to duties they are unfit to discharge, especially as there is a probability that the condition of the family may be aggravated by its increase. among women convicted of cruelty to children there are very few who are not mentally defective as far as my experience goes. just as drink causes some people to become savage, it incites others to mischief. if a man lift things that do not belong to him and carry them off, that is theft and punishable as such. if the culprit could state the case to the magistrate as a lawyer would, it would be classed as malicious mischief; but if he had the necessary training, or could afford to pay a lawyer, he might not be in court at all. it is not yet an uncommon thing for young bloods to destroy or take away the property of others, but they are not charged with theft as a result of their exuberance. they are not usually charged at all if they compensate the owners. students of medicine have been known to return from a symposium with a miscellaneous collection of articles which they had conveyed without authority from shop-doors, in addition to an occasional door-bell handle or knocker. if any of them had been convicted of theft in consequence of this conduct, he would as a result have been struck off the register and been prevented from entering the profession for which he was training. a conviction for malicious mischief would have no such grave result. the consequence is quite as serious in the case of a labouring man. it is not merely that the sentence is heavier; that is the least of it; it is the reputation of being a thief that is attached to him on his discharge which he will find difficult to overcome. it is bad enough for his prospects of honest employment that he should have been in prison, but if the cause was not dishonesty he may be regarded as merely foolish. if his offence has been theft it is another story. explanations are not wanted--nor thieves; and the dog with the bad name may set about in despair to deserve it, becoming a recruit to the ranks of the professional criminals. in such cases the man's downfall may be attributed to drink; but he might reasonably attach some of the blame to our stupidity in dealing with him. apart from those who are led into sportive acts when they are in liquor, there are some who take to theft pure and simple. x was a most respectable man about thirty years of age. he was honest and industrious, and except that he occasionally gave way to intemperance he appeared to have no faults or follies. he was not very fond of company, and after his work was done he spent most of his time at home in his lodgings, where he had the reputation of being a quiet, peaceable, and somewhat studious man. he was arrested one night when under the influence of drink, in possession of property which had been stolen by him. on his room being searched the proceeds of several thefts were found, and the remains of articles which had been stolen and partially destroyed. it became apparent that he had been responsible for quite a number of thefts from public places during the two preceding years. his story was that he had no recollection of stealing; and on the sunday morning after his first theft he was horrified to find a bag containing articles of clothing in his room. he ascertained from his landlady that he had brought it home the night before, and he told her some story to explain his questions. he made no attempt to sell the property, but destroyed it in detail. he kept off drink for a time, but falling in with some old friends one night, he took too much and again he stole. it preyed on his mind to such an extent that he went on a spree, with the same result. he could tell nobody of his trouble, and he got into despairing and reckless moods in which he flew to drink, nearly always returning with something. he was remonstrated with on account of his growing intemperance, but with very little result; and it was a relief to him when he was found out. how many thefts he had committed was never known, but he had never made a penny by them. he was not a kleptomaniac when sober, and his case is an uncommon one in respect more to the freedom he enjoyed from arrest than to the nature of the impulse which he obeyed; for there are a good many occasional thieves who are quite honest when sober. others have fallen from a position as law-abiding citizens, and have lost their self-respect, as well as their position, through habitual intemperance. their one passion is drink, and they will do anything to get it. they cannot get work and could not keep it if they did, because of their unsteadiness; so they live off others by begging or by stealing. the most troublesome criminal to those whose duty it is to protect the public, and the most dangerous to the property of his fellow-citizens, is the professional; and no more than other professional persons does he go to business the worse of drink, for that would be taking an unnecessary risk. there are few occupations in which sobriety is not required to ensure and maintain success, and this is true whether the business be an honest or a dishonest one. not that the thief need be a teetotaler; in his hours of relaxation he may be found proving the contrary; but he cannot afford to drink during business hours. in prison he may say that he is there on account of the drink, but the statement, though it may be true, is misleading. it is a convenient formula, and serves to prevent further enquiry. he knows that those who question him have their prejudices, and he is aware that it is the fashion to trace all crimes to drink--and no further. let him frankly confess his failing for liquor and he will obtain some sympathy which may materialise on his liberation. it is literally true in many cases, the statement: "if it hadna been the drink i wadna been here." but it is also true that he has not been honest when sober. for every time he has been caught there are many thefts he has committed and escaped capture. continue the enquiry and it is found that what he means is that if he had not obscured his judgment with drink he would not have attempted the job he undertook; or he would have kept a better look-out before he did take it in hand. he is not a thief because of the drink, but a thief who is caught because he has been intemperate. the drink in this case has not proved an ally to crime, but an auxiliary of the police; it has not caused the theft, but has enabled the thief to be caught. in many cases, however, it assists the professional criminal; for the intoxicated man is an easier prey to him than the sober citizen. he can be assisted home by willing hands that will go through his pockets with skill on the road. he can be lured into dens that when sober he would avoid, and there be robbed at leisure and with little risk. he may even be relieved of his property without any pretence of friendliness, with small chance of his offering effective resistance or causing a hot pursuit. in all these ways he affords opportunity to the thief, and to the extent that the drink places him in this condition it is a cause of crime. it appears then: ( ) that the great mass of prisoners were under the influence of drink at the time they committed the offence for which they have been convicted; ( ) that of these the "crime" of the majority is drunkenness, or some petty offence resulting therefrom; ( ) that nearly all the crimes against the person are committed by, or upon, people who were intoxicated at the time; ( ) that many offences against property are partly the result of drink; ( ) that the majority of crimes against property are not due to drunkenness on the part of the criminal. but the amount of crime in scotland is not in proportion to the amount of drinking in any district. the consumption of drink is not confined to our cities and towns, and excessive indulgence sometimes takes place on the part of people who live in the country, yet no considerable proportion of our prison population comes from the courts of country districts or of small towns. the vice may be present without issuing in crime, though the drink itself has the same effect on the drinker whether he be living in the town or in the country. in the country and in small towns, where the population is stable and where people are not packed together, they have opportunities each of knowing his neighbour, and they take some interest in one another. indeed, one often hears complaints of villagers taking too much interest in their neighbours' affairs. if a man drink more than he can carry, there is usually someone about who will see him home; or at worst he finds rest until he recovers, without the necessity of interference of an official kind. in the town, although a man may have friends who would be willing to look after him, he is separated from them, not by green fields, but by rows of tenements and multitudes of passers-by who have no personal interest in or knowledge of him; and if he lie down he obstructs the traffic and has to be taken in charge. he need not be any more drunk than the man in the country, but he is a greater public nuisance. in the country if a man have his evil passions stirred or inflamed by drink and seek to indulge them, friendly hands restrain him from doing the injury he might otherwise do, and the crime which has been conceived may never be executed; but in the city a man may, and sometimes does, brutally assault and even slay another person, while people are living above, below, and on each side of him; and no one troubles to look in and ascertain what is going on. men do not know their neighbours and do not care to interfere in the affairs of strangers. they have learnt to attend to their own business and to leave other things to their paid officials. the officials likewise attend to their business; and the prison cells are filled with men and women who have taken liquor to excess and have had no friendly hand to assist them or to keep them out of mischief. in the absence of this restraint and help, crime is just as likely to result from excessive drinking in the country as in the town. there is another difference in favour of the country toper that is worth noting. the man who sells him the drink is usually a member of the community in which he lives, and he cannot afford persistently to outrage the sentiments of those among whom his lot is cast. he will not find it to his comfort to obtain the bad opinion of his neighbours; and if he get the name of filling his customers full he may run the risk of losing his license. it is not to his interest to disregard the welfare of his patrons even were he so inclined. each district has its own standard of what is fair and allowable, and no publican can safely continue to fall below it. in the large towns the licenses are not usually held by men who live in the district. many of them are in few hands. the licensee is represented by barmen who have a most harassing and exacting time; who work long hours for wages that are seldom what could be called high; who are engaged selling drink to men the majority of whom they do not know; and who are expected while keeping within the law to sell as much liquor as possible. public opinion in the district can only touch the publican on his financial side; and then only by a campaign directed to ensure regulations that are sometimes as futile as they are vexatious, and that attack indiscriminately the man who is really trying to conduct his business in a reasonable way and him whose only care is to get as much out of it as he can. but not only is there drinking in the country as well as in the town. there is no district of the town that has a monopoly of temperance. there are fewer public-houses in the wealthier than in the poorer districts, but there are more private cellars. there is no bigger proportion of teetotalers among men who have money than among men with none; and business men are as much given to drinking as artisans or labourers. there is a difference in their methods of consumption, the one judiciously mixing his potations with solids, the other taking his amount in a shorter period of time and running a bigger risk of getting drunk. even when he does get beyond the stage of being quite clear in the head, the wealthier man has the means of getting home quietly, and there may be no scandal and no arrest. though there may be as much drinking in the district in which he lives as in some of the congested parts of a city, there is less crime in proportion to the number of inhabitants; so that there are other factors than drink necessary to the commission of crime, even when drink is present. in glasgow we are accustomed periodically to learn from the testimony of english visitors that we are the most drunken city in the kingdom; and tourists write to the newspapers and tell their experiences and impressions of sights seen in our streets, quoting statistics of the arrests for drunkenness. this alternates with panegyrics of the city as the most progressive in the world--"the model municipality." we are neither so bad nor so good as we are sometimes said to be. that the streets of glasgow--or rather some of them--are at times disgraced by the drunkenness of some who use them, is quite true; but the fact that some travellers at some times see more drunk people in a given area than may be seen in any english city does not justify the inference that the inhabitants of glasgow are more drunken than those of other cities. in no english city is there so large a population on so small an area. if there are more drunk in a given space there are also more sober people; but only the drunks are observed. in glasgow, moreover, the ordinary drink is whisky, which rapidly makes a man reel. it excites more markedly than the beer consumed so generally in england, which makes a man not so much drunk as sodden. if it were worth the retort, one might point out that even if it be true that in scotland you may see more people drunk, in england you see fewer people sober. as for the statistics of arrests they are absolutely useless for purposes of comparison, if only because of the different practices that prevail in different parts of the country in dealing with drunks. it is also well known that a comparatively small number of persons is responsible for a very large number of arrests. the facts show ( ) that drink puts a man into a condition in which he is more liable to commit an offence or crime than he is when sober; ( ) that while drinking is common in all parts of the country, police offences and crimes occur mainly in closely populated districts; ( ) that the amount of crime and police offences in scotland is not dependent on the amount of drinking alone, but is mainly dependent on indulgence in drink under certain conditions of city life; ( ) that the major portion, and the most serious kind, of crimes against property, are not attributable to drink. chapter ii poverty, destitution, overcrowding, and crime the majority of persons in prison there because of their poverty-- poverty and drink--poverty and petty offences--poverty and thrift-- poverty and destitution--case of theft from destitution--poverty and vagrancy--unemployment and beggary--formation of professional offenders--the case of the old--the degradation of the unemployed to unemployability--no ratio between the amount of poverty alone and the amount of crime--a definite ratio between density of population and crime--slum life--overcrowding--cases of destitution and overcrowding--overcrowding and decency--poverty and overcrowding in relation to offences against the person--the poor and officials--the absence of opportunity for rational recreation--the migratory character of the population--the multiplication of laws and of penalties--transgressions due to ignorance and to inability to conform--contrast between city and country administration--case of petty offender--treatment induces further offences--the city the hiding-place of the professional criminal--crime largely a by-product of city life. while the majority of prisoners were under the influence of drink at the time they committed the offences for which they are convicted, it is equally true that they are in prison because of their poverty. they are there because they are unable to pay the fines imposed on them. their offences may be attributable to drink, but their imprisonment is due to want of money. there are many who are most estimable citizens, though poor; poverty alone does not lead them to prison. on the other hand, there are many people who drink to excess and do not transgress the law; their drunkenness alone does not lead them to jail; but while a man may be poor and virtuous, his poverty will compel him to live under conditions in which any vices he has may easily develop into crimes or offences. it is sometimes said that poverty, and especially the poverty of the masses, is the result of drink, but no statement was ever more grotesquely untrue. that drink aggravates poverty is obvious; but no one can shut his eyes to the fact that all poor people do not drink, and that all teetotalers are not rich. drink is often a cause of poverty; but to attribute poverty mainly to drink is wantonly to libel thousands of our poorer fellow-citizens who live far cleaner lives than many of their critics. on the other hand, it is equally unsafe to attribute drinking mainly to poverty, for many who indulge freely are possessed of considerable means, and the practice is not peculiar to any social condition. that some are driven to drink as a refuge from the monotony of their lives is undeniable; but if poverty makes some men drunkards it makes others teetotalers. they see that their chances of "getting on" are less if they take drink than they would be if they kept strictly sober, and they abstain till they have attained their object; though they may make up for their abstinence afterwards. of prisoners convicted for committing petty offences--the largest number--many have been driven to offend by the squalor of their surroundings. poverty tends to limit a man's choice in work and in recreation. he is on the verge of destitution, having nothing in the way of reserve, and he is forced to take work that may and often does result in an income that is much less than the expenditure of energy necessary to obtain it. if he is a member of a family or has friends in the district where he is living, he can usually obtain assistance in the time of his distress; and he is himself counted on to render help when required. that such help is commonly given by the poor to the poor is a commonplace, but its importance in preventing destitution in places where poverty is always present is not sufficiently recognised. the majority of working-class families live almost from hand to mouth. the utmost to be expected from them in the way of thrift is provision for pay in time of sickness from a friendly society; and even that is not possible for all the members of a household. provision may also be made for aliment from a trade union in time of unemployment; and in some cases for some period there may be something saved and set aside in the bank. they are accustomed to hear of their improvidence from people who have never known what it is to suffer from ill-health and consequent loss of income, and who would find their place in a lunatic asylum if they tried to live for a year under the circumstances of those whom they criticise and direct. their lamentations and advice are sometimes echoed by the man who has risen from the ranks to comparative opulence, and who forgets that if his neighbours had been like him he would never have been where he is. the only capital they have is their health, and anything may happen to set aside the principal member of the family and throw the others into a struggle that may lame them. the life of the individual worker is nearly always one of interdependence. in his early years he is dependent on his parents and his elder brothers and sisters. when he is able to work his wages go into the common stock, and by the time he can earn enough to support himself he may have to contribute to the support of his parents. thrift in the case of any family cannot be estimated by the money saved, and in many of the model thrifty families it may be found that the cash saving has been made at the expense of starving the bodies and minds of the children. time and again, well-doing families have become destitute after a severe and prolonged struggle, or after a short period in which they have suffered blow after blow, as a result of sickness or loss of work; and as there is no public provision made for helping such people until they are quite destitute, and then only the minimum of relief is given them and they are set adrift to recover under conditions that render recovery almost impossible, it is wonderful that so many manage to survive. those who sink are not therefore to be condemned on that account as worse citizens than those who survive; the time at which they have been struck by calamity may account for all the difference between them. we are all liable to sickness and death, but if either comes at one time rather than another it may make a very considerable difference to our families. when a man who is in a steady situation with a fair wage dies leaving no provision for his wife and family he is condemned. it is in vain to point out that he used his pay towards their comfort and in such a way as to ensure their fitness; he ought to have been more careful; and the very people who preach faith are the first to blame him because he took no thought of tomorrow, but did the best he could in the day that was his. the fact is that every man who thinks, among those that are dependent on the wages they earn--usually under a precarious tenure of their situations--sees that his choice lies between securing the best conditions in his power for his family in order that they may be the more fit to do their work in the world, and doing something less in order to lay by some money for them; between starving them in essentials during his lifetime to secure them from starvation should he die, and giving what he has while he is there to give, in the hope that he may live to see them develop healthily. from poverty to destitution is in many cases but a short step, and it may be taken by those who have done nothing to deserve it. sickness, loss of employment, absence of friends who can assist, may drive a man to extremity; and then it is a hard task indeed for him to keep within the law and live. his sickness may enable him to qualify for parochial relief, but as soon as he is recovered so far as to be able to go about he may be cast adrift without means of support. if a man does not live by working he can only support himself by the work of others; being destitute he must beg or steal. x was a man of thirty-five years of age who was charged with theft. he was somewhat "soft," and had managed to support himself during the lifetime of his relations by casual labour. he was physically in good health and mentally not bad enough to obtain care from any public body. on the death of those who had looked after him he drifted to the common lodging-houses, but he had not enough devil in him to be attracted by any of the vicious or to indulge in any vices. he began to find difficulty in obtaining employment. under the stress of his condition his mental defect became accentuated, and, though not prominent enough to call for official recognition, it hindered him in his efforts to obtain work. asked why he had stolen, he gave a reply that in its reasonableness was striking. he said, "what was i to do? i tried the parish, but they could do nothing for me, for i'm quite weel. i tried beggin', but i didna get much, an' i was catched. you're no sae often catched when you steal." he did not want to steal, but it was the easiest thing to do. in begging he took a risk of apprehension for everybody he approached, and from most he would get nothing in the way of help. he took the same risk when he lifted something, but at any rate he drew no blanks. he had some very orthodox views on punishment; for he believed that the proper thing to do with a man who stole--when you caught him--was to send him to prison for so many days, the time to depend on the value of the property stolen; but he thought that the man who had suffered imprisonment for theft, and so paid the penalty, ought to be allowed to enjoy the proceeds of his theft; and he complained that though he had served so many days for the theft of a pair of boots, he had not been given back the boots on his liberation. i cite his case here, in spite of the fact that he was mentally defective, because he really stated correctly the dilemma into which a person is driven when destitute; and because he appeared to be one who, had it not been for his poverty and destitution, would not have required attention either as a mentally defective or a criminal. his social condition gave no opportunity for the proper development of his mental powers, but stunted their growth. as for their quality, it is in no wise different from that of many who, thanks to better chances, are able to get themselves accepted as public leaders on the strength of an absence of showy vices, and the exposition of a logical and narrow view of things; solid men and safe, free from levity and serious-minded. poverty is no crime, but it is something very like a police offence if the poor person is destitute. everybody needs food, clothing, and shelter, and they cannot be had without money or its equivalent. a man may starve and go in rags rather than beg or steal, but he must sleep somewhere. he cannot pay for a lodging, and to sleep out is to qualify for sleeping in a cell. if the police were not better than the law in this respect our prisons would always be full. there are many men out of work who are far from anxious to get it; indeed, and for that matter, most people are quite content to do no more than they need; and in spite of all that has been said of the blessedness of labour, there are few of the most earnest preachers against the idleness of others who would prefer to work longer hours for less pay rather than shorter hours for more. we must discriminate; the objection to the man who will not work is that he is not content to want. when he gets like that he is so far from being an unemployed person that he has adopted the occupation of deliberately living off others; that is his profession, and i am not at all sure that it is quite as easy as it is assumed to be by those who have not tried it. certainly the amateur beggar makes but a poor show with the professional. his is, at any rate, a dishonourable and an illegal profession; but while in some cases he has been brought up to it, in many he has drifted into it through destitution. we ought to have no professional beggars and no professional thieves; but as they are in some way made, it does not help to an understanding of the question to label them "habitual," condemn them, and neglect to ask, if they "growed," how it was they began their career. many of these full-blown specimens have been offered work at remunerative rates and have scorned it, which shows--that they did so; that is all. it does not show that if in the beginning they had been taken in hand they would have refused to do their share of labour. all experiments of that kind only prove that the sturdy beggar finds it easier and pleasanter to beg than to do the kind of work offered to him; they teach nothing as to the causes which led him to begging; and poverty and destitution are the most common causes. in our large cities there are numbers of children who are destitute because of their parents being unable to provide for them, or failing to do so. they are cast on their own resources from a very early age, and have sometimes to assist in the maintenance of others. when they can, some of them leave the homes which have been far from sweet and take to living in common lodging-houses--in glasgow we call them "models," with a fine sense of humour, for they offer the best of opportunities for the formation of citizens who will not be models. if the boy grows up as he can, and in the process develops anti-social qualities, it is not he who is most to blame; and when we condemn his conduct, as we must, we might at least admit that his course has largely been shaped by the destitution which it would have paid us better to prevent than to punish, when as its result we have allowed him to develop into a pest. at the other end of the ladder there are men who are refused work because they are or seem old, and who are driven down through destitution to become petty offenders. i remember when i was employed in the poorhouse a man was brought to be certified insane. he had attempted to sever a vessel in his arm in order that he might bleed to death, but his ignorance of anatomy--he was a pre-school-board man--had caused him to make an ugly gash at the wrong place. he was talkative, and his story was clearly told. he was about fifty years of age and was unable to follow the only trade he knew. he was an iron-worker and had done hard work in his day. he had never been a teetotaler, but he had always attended to his work. at times he made good wages, but he had suffered from periods of depression. sometimes he had been able to save money, but it had always melted. he could get work when work was to be had, but for some year or two now he was physically unable to take a place. he had contracted a disease of the heart. his son had got married and had two children. he was a well-doing and industrious young man; sober, steady, and a good workman. he had been supported by this son, of whom he spoke in the highest terms. he also was an iron-worker. the son had never grudged him his keep, nor had his wife. why then had he attempted to kill himself? his explanation was as clear as it was unexpected. he said, "doctor, do i look unhappy?" he did not; indeed he was rather cheerful. "well, i never had ony melancholy, if that's the name for't. my son's a good lad. he slaves as i slaved, and at the end he'll drap tae. i'm done. i've enjoyed my life on the whole, but i'm fit for naething but to be a burden on him. he disna object; but there's the weans. every bite that goes into my mooth comes oot o' theirs. if they're to be something better than their faither or me, they'll need mair of the schule; and what wi' broken time an' low wages they'll no get it. i want them to be kept frae work till they're educated tae seek something better. he and i have had our share of hard work. i've had my sprees, but he's a better man than i was--no a better tradesman; i'll no say that--an' i want his weans to hae a better chance than he had. no, i'm no a socialist; i'm a tory if i'm onything, but i never bothered wi' political questions, though i've heard a heap o' blethers on a' sides. what? hell? noo, doctor, does ony sensible man believe in that nooadays? god's no as bad as they make him oot to be, an' at onyrate i believe that death ends a'." there was no shaking him. all he wanted was some lessons in anatomy--which he did not get. he insisted that he was as sane as any of us, and asserted that he could not be certified; but he was wrong there. the law takes most elaborate precautions to prevent people killing themselves, aye even when it has sentenced them to death, but so far it has not made any provision for enabling them to work for their living. we hear of the unemployable who could not work even if he were willing, but apart from those who labour under mental or physical disabilities--and many of them can and do work--i have not met many of this class. there are many on distress works who make a very poor show; they are not fit for that kind of work, but that is a different thing altogether from saying that there is nothing they can do that is useful. certainly in the ordinary sense it cannot be said of the man who is too old to secure employment that he is unfit for work. he is shut out by competition, the employer quite naturally preferring what he believes to be the more efficient workman. few of the older men who are thus thrown on the scrap-heap take things in such a way that they try the open door of death, but the fact that they are condemned to forsake their occupation does prey on the minds of many and embitter their lives; and the fear of dismissal increases in intensity as their hair turns white. when the blow falls, if they have no resources what is to become of them? there are all sorts of schemes proposed for dealing on the one hand with the young and keeping them longer at school, and on the other hand with the older men and providing them with work. to an outsider it would seem that if the number of men employed is sufficient to produce what is required, and there is a large surplus of unemployed labour, those who are working are working too long. a stranger might be excused for thinking that if one man is working eight hours and another not working at all it would be better for both that each should work four hours; but if he said so he would only show his simplicity. the man who is employed would quickly point out that this would reduce his wages. yet when a man gets promotion, whether in the public service or in private business, his salary and his responsibilities are increased--the former certainly, the latter in such a way that it becomes less easy to get rid of him--but his hours are usually reduced; for more money would be of little use to him if he did not get time to spend it. this is merely an observation, not a doctrine; but it is difficult to see how employment is to be found for those who are willing and able to work unless we cease to improve machinery and produce less economically; or increase our production enormously; or divide the work and the proceeds more evenly. in any case, and while that matter is being settled, we might recognise the dilemma into which those are thrust who cannot find work and are destitute. they must beg or steal, and if they get into the way of doing either they are liable to become less fitted and less inclined for other occupations. x was an artisan earning a fair wage and enjoying good health. he was married to a woman who was a good housewife and manager. when he was about thirty-eight he was thrown out of work by a strike in an allied trade. a commercial crisis ensued and there was general distress. he managed for a time to keep his head above water, but his resources gradually were eaten away. his employers wound up their business, and when the local difficulty had passed he found that he had to look out for another place. while idle he had formed the acquaintance of others in like case. he had been a steady, stay-at-home man, but in their company he took to amusements which were harmless in themselves and new to him. he also imbibed a taste for beer, but he did not get drunk. the company was not bad company, but it was different from any he had been accustomed to, and it was not good for him. for a time he looked for work, but he did not find it. others got settled, but the luck was against him, and he became discouraged and despairing. by and by he looked about in a half-hearted way, and gave more time to loafing than to seeking rebuffs. he was not destitute, as his family was able to keep the wolf from the door. in two years he was only interested in getting drink from anybody who would treat him, and in discussing public affairs with others who had fallen like himself. he had given up the idea of work and had degenerated from a good citizen to a loafer and, later, to a drunkard. he was never convicted, but he had to be warned because of his conduct towards his wife; and he died as a result of exposure when drunk--to the relief of his family, who were in danger of being dragged into the mire by him. in this case his family saved him from destitution, but the loss of his work drove him almost imperceptibly into the ranks of the derelicts, in spite of the counter-influences of home. in many cases there is no family to do what his did for him, and the process is more certain and easy. poverty compels men to live under conditions in which their vices may easily develop into crimes or offences; and it makes those who have transgressed the law less able to recover from the effects of a conviction and more liable to become habitual offenders; but it cannot be said that the amount of convictions in scotland is in relation to the poverty of any given district. in some parts of the highlands and islands, where poverty is pronounced, there is an entire absence of crime. while no ratio can be traced between the amount of drinking or the degree of poverty and the number of crimes or offences in scotland, there is a very definite relationship between the density of the population and the incidence of breaches of the law. not only is there more crime in the city than in the country, but from the densely populated parts of the city there are more committals than from the less crowded districts. the sanitary reformer has shown us that our city slums are breeding-places for diseases that do not confine their operation to the people who dwell there, but may easily infect those who live under more wholesome conditions; and substituting vice and crime for disease and death the statement is equally true. by letting in light and fresh air to the houses where so many dwell we are able to save lives which would otherwise be crippled or destroyed by the insanitary conditions in which they are placed; and just as surely we could break up the aggregations of people whose acquired way of living is fatal to the proper development of an enlightened civic spirit, if we were as eager to prevent as we are to punish wrongdoing. there they are; born into little boxes of houses which are packed together in rows and built in layers one above the other in the air. their home life is passed in similar boxes; and when they die they are put in smaller boxes and placed in layers under the earth. the health officer would speedily interfere if we tried to house as many pigs to the acre as human beings; but we eat the pigs and cannot permit them to be raised under conditions that would be likely to result in their contracting disease. also there are fewer people making a living by furnishing accommodation for pigs than for men; and it is easier to regulate an occupation when those who are engaged in it are not influential, than when they are; for we have a traditional dislike to interfering with the rights of property. it is therefore much easier to punish a slum-dweller for breaking our sanitary regulations than a slum landlord for living off rotten dwellings. it is well known that the worse the building is, the bigger the rent charged in proportion to the accommodation supplied. if a man owns house property he expects to make a profit when he lets it, from the difference between what he has paid for it and the rent he receives from it. x is an old woman who is past work and has no resources. she has been in the poorhouse, but will not stay there, though better housed and better fed and kept cleaner than when outside. she is too old to settle down to the ordered life of the institution, and when all its advantages are enumerated to her and all available eloquence has been expended on her with a view to persuading her that in her own interest she ought gratefully to accept its shelter, she sullenly and silently shows that her opinion of the place as a desirable residence does not coincide with that of those who are in no danger of being forced to live there. she rents a small house and takes in lodgers, intending to make her living from the difference between what she pays and what she receives in rent. under the glasgow sanitary regulations certain houses are "ticketed"; that is to say, their cubic content is measured, and a card is fixed on the door stating the number of cubic feet in the place and the number of persons who may be lodged therein. one adult is the allowance for every cubic feet; and half that space is allowed for every person under twelve years. the sanitary inspector is entitled to demand admission at any hour in order to ascertain whether there is overcrowding. he calls one night and finds that the limit has been exceeded, and she is sent to prison, in default of paying a fine, for overcrowding. of course there is a difference between her and her landlord, for she has broken the law. precisely; but what kind of law is it that can reach only the poorer transgressor and allows the partner in profits to escape? x is a woman of forty-two who has never been in prison before, and is under sentence for overcrowding. on a midnight visit the sanitary officer found six adults in a room ticketed for three and a half--a bad case. the woman's story was that her daughter had been married to a young man some twelve months previously. he was an iron-worker and seemed decent enough. he lost his situation through bad trade and was unable to get another. meantime a child was born. the young people wrestled along for a time; but after exhausting all the channels of aid which were open to them, they were turned out of their house for failing to pay the rent. their furniture had been disposed of. the girl's mother took them in to shelter them. she admitted she had kept them in lodgings for some weeks before the "sanitary" came down on her, and i suspect she had been warned, but as she said, "what was i to do?" asked if she had informed the magistrate of the facts, she said she had not. "i pleaded guilty, because if ye dae that ye get aff easier." she could not even make the best of her case, but if she had been able to employ a lawyer she would not have required to transgress the law; and as for stating her own case, that is what few are able to do--till by experience they learn. even when a person of education and means finds himself in conflict with the law, if he is prudent he gets an experienced lawyer to appear for him and present the truth in the way that will appeal most strongly to the judge. overcrowding not only breeds disease, but it tends to destroy the sense of decency, and affords opportunities for the commission of crime which ought not to exist. now and again cases come before the courts that have to be heard with closed doors, and in every one of them this factor of overcrowding is present, affording the opportunity and inducing to the commission of the crime. the subject is so foul that it cannot be adequately treated here without grave occasion of offence. unspeakable corruption is easy and possible, and it goes on because it is unspeakable. it has often been said that poverty and destitution are not likely to lead to the commission of crimes against the person, but rather to crimes against property and _a priori_ there is something to be said for the statement; but whatever the likelihood we need not concern ourselves with it when the facts are before us for examination. in the first place, the great majority of persons in prison for committing assaults of all descriptions are poor persons. it is a rare thing for one in a good position to be convicted of assault, and even the most cursory examination of those who are in prison for assaulting others will show that their social condition was a factor in the causation of the crime. i have pointed out the part that drink plays in the matter, and incidentally shown that it is mainly operative under the conditions which exist in closely populated districts; but many of the minor assaults are committed by persons who are not under the influence of drink. next to drink, among the women, the most common cause assigned by them for their imprisonment is "bad neebors." they do not lose their tempers and fight with each other because they are poor or destitute, but poverty makes strange bedfellows and forces people to rub against one another in such a way as to give occasion for trouble; and to leave the fact out of account is simply to attempt to study man apart from his surroundings and to ignore the effect they have on his conduct. in some parts of glasgow--much as it has been improved during the last generation--there is literally no room for the people to live. a place to sleep in, to afford shelter from the weather, to take food in? yes. room for recreation or for quiet rest? no. the forbearance, the good-humour, the willingness shown to stand aside and allow another member of the family to monopolise the scanty accommodation, are wonderful; and they are the rule. now and then, here and there, a breakdown occurs; and if it result in a breach of the peace, we are not concerned to recognise the cause, but only to punish the wrongdoers. "what's done we partly may compute, but know not what's resisted," and are not disposed to find out. a stair-head quarrel is a stock subject for the humorist; but try to live for a week in such close and constant contact with anyone, earning your living the while with exhausting labour, and your wonder will be that the peace is so well kept. the fact is that those people put up with a great deal more than their censors would stand, and that is one reason why they are so badly off. if they were as impatient of our smug mismanagement as we are of their transgressions we should have learned how to regulate our cities long ago. there is a great effort made to evangelise the poorer classes, and it is well supported by earnest men who are better off; it would not be a bad thing if the slums returned the compliment and started a mission to the west end. the _a priori_ reasoner would then perhaps learn that while he might expect that crimes against property would in part be the result of poverty and destitution, because such crimes would relieve the poverty, though in an illegal way; crimes against the person are also frequently a result of poverty, not that they are committed with a view to its relief, but because discomfort, irritability, impatience of restraint, and other mental conditions which lead to assaults, are as much an outcome of poverty as it exists in the slums of our great cities as are hunger and want. there is no slum district in glasgow that does not contain a larger number of well-disposed than of evil-disposed persons; but a tenement may get a bad name through the misconduct of one or two of its inhabitants, and a street may be regarded as wild although there is only a minority of rowdy people living in it. we take no account of those who do not annoy us, and when the noisy people anywhere assert themselves we forget all about the others. when we interfere officially it is to find that, good and bad, they stand by one another. in this respect they are like gentlemen; they do not give one another away to outsiders; and it is an interesting sidelight on their view of the law that they do not look on its representatives as their friends. so often its interference results in making their condition worse that they distrust it; and it is often a greater terror to those who do well than to the evil-doer. it is no uncommon thing to see a woman who has been assaulted by her husband plead with the court to let him go, and make all sorts of excuses or tell the most incredible story to account for her injuries. then we hear exclamations and reflections on the power of human love and the forgiving spirit of even a degraded woman. human love is wonderful, but it is no more marvellous than human stupidity; and in these cases the woman is moved not so much by love of the man as by knowledge of the results to her and hers of our way of dealing with him. on the whole, she prefers to run the risk of ill-usage from him when he is at liberty, being assured of his protection against the ill-usage of others, to having to wrestle on in his absence and suffer from the disapproval of others who are as badly off, because of her disloyalty. see that her condition is really improved by his conviction and she will be less likely to perjure herself in the attempt to save him from the penalty of his brutality. in every slum district there are some living who could afford to go elsewhere, but who remain where they are because it has never occurred to them that they should remove. they have gone to the district in its better days, and the change in its character has been so gradual that they have not taken much notice of it. they stay on just as men stay on at business after the need has passed, because they cannot think of doing anything else and are loth to seek fresh fields. it is not good for them that they should do so, but it is not bad for the slum; for old inhabitants of this kind exercise a good influence on many of the others. most slum-dwellers are not there because they prefer slum life, but because they are unable to pay for better accommodation. the smallness of their dwellings makes healthy home-life difficult and in some cases impossible. having no room in the house for the recreation required after work, the man goes out to seek change. the opportunities offered to him are few, except those provided by private enterprise. there are the parks, and great advantage is taken of them; but in glasgow they are nearly all at considerable distances from the most crowded districts. the public bowling-greens are used to the utmost in the evenings, but are only available for a part of the year. the libraries attract comparatively few of those whose labour has entailed much physical strain on them; and picture-galleries and museums appeal to only a very limited number of our fellow-citizens, working-class or otherwise. it was once the idea of those who pleaded for the public provision of means of recreation that these should be of such a character as would "improve" the working classes. the intention was excellent, but the people themselves were left out of consideration, as is usual when efforts are made to recreate men instead of providing opportunity for them to amuse themselves. perhaps they do not believe that it would be an improvement to conform to our ideals; at any rate, the great majority have not shown any eagerness to take advantage of the means for studying science and art which we have placed within their reach; and they remain as regardless of the worship of these deities as the great mass of the richer people who quite honestly have sought to elevate them. the private caterer has found a way to interest them, for if he failed to do so he would lose his means of livelihood, and that fact may have helped to sharpen his powers of perception. he has to amuse men as they are, not as he thinks they ought to be; and our regulations quite properly debar him from doing so in an objectionable way. the entertainments provided may not be of a very high order, but the purpose of recreating thousands is served. if we regret that they do not seek something better, let us remember the monotony of their lives, the numbing effect of the conditions to which they are subject, and be thankful they do not seek worse. the small house of one or two rooms in a tenement is what the majority have for a home, and when there is a family it is insufficient to enable them to evolve a complete and healthy home-life in it. social intercourse is of necessity restricted, for there is no room for the gathering of friends; and though public entertainments, while valuable adjuncts, are poor substitutes for social intercourse, they are better than nothing. the public-house is almost the only place where the mass of town-dwellers can meet in a social way with their friends, and the perils attendant on such meetings are evident to all men. the effort to provide some substitute for it has taxed the ingenuity and baffled the attempts of many temperance advocates and social reformers. much as they have been criticised, the music-halls and such places have been a powerful counter-attraction, but any means of public entertainment cannot in the end supply the need for social intercourse between kindred spirits. some day the fact will have to be faced that the only real substitute for the public-house is the private house; and when that is fully realised the slums will go. many have to migrate from one district to another because of the nature of their work. they have not "steady jobs," and though they may not suffer from unemployment, they may be engaged now in one part of the city and now in another. the result is that they have no abiding dwelling-place, and as a rule have only the barest acquaintance with their neighbours; for when people are moving about in this way they have neither the same opportunity nor the same desire to form friendships with those around them. improvement in the means of locomotion has contributed to send employers and well-to-do people out of the crowded areas of the city and away from the parts wherein their employees reside. they see less of their workmen than did a former generation, and their wives and families know nothing about the men whose co-operation is required to secure their comfort. there is less of personal contact than there was and more chance of mutual misunderstanding. the bond between employer and employed becomes more and more a mere money bond; each seeks to get as much as he can out of the other; and with it all there arises a general feeling of instability and insecurity, the necessary result of the absence of a spirit of fellowship such as can only spring from the existence of a personal as distinct from a pecuniary interest between man and man. where people are crowded together regulations are required for their health and comfort, and the liberty of each has to be restricted in the interest of the community. the more closely they are packed the more interference is required. practices which in the country might be harmless or even laudable would be intolerable if permitted in the town. to make our rules operative we enact penalties against offenders--and sometimes enforce them. there are so many now that it is questionable if there is anybody in glasgow who has not at one time or another been a transgressor. the man from whose chimney black smoke has issued, or who has obstructed the footpath by leaving goods outside his shop-door, does not worry over, because he is not seriously worried by, such laws. he may swear a little when summoned, and say evil things about the officiousness of the authorities, but it is a small matter to him even though he is fined. the man who finds himself in court for using strange oaths in public or for spitting in or upon a tramcar has more worry over the business. even a small fine makes a serious inroad in his day's earnings, and the loss of time attending the court docks him of the pay by which he might discharge the fine. however much it may be required, every extension of the police regulations for the government of a city implies an increase in the number of offences and offenders dealt with; and while it is necessary that transgressors should be made to cease to do the things the law condemns, it does not follow that the wisest means are always taken to secure this object. a crusade against consumption will meet with hearty approval everywhere; but if the crusaders allow their zeal to direct their energies wrongly their good intentions cannot be held as an excuse for the harm they do. in a city that is ordinarily covered with a haze, and sometimes with a cloud, of smoke; where the inhabitants for the most part live in tenement houses that by no stretch of fancy could be called spacious; where the workers are in many cases subjected to severe physical strain by the nature of their work; and where the weather is variable and trying; it is not surprising that many should suffer from "colds." they are under the necessity of spitting, and they spit not out of joy of spitting, but because they have to. the practice is filthy--it is all the evil things that can be said of it; and it should be discouraged. the best way would be to alter the conditions that occasion it; the worst way is to make the spitter a comrade of the criminal before the bar of a police court. as with this so with many other offences; they are manufactured without due regard to the injury that may be caused by their enforcement. it is an easy thing to place burdens on the backs of others, but in fairness to them it should first be ascertained whether they can bear them. many of our laws are transgressed because of ignorance or helplessness; and neither is an excuse. we are all supposed to know the law, and surely no greater irony could there be than such a hypothesis. if everybody knew the laws there would be no need for lawyers; and if the lawyers were agreed as to what is the law at any time there would be little need for judges. so well is it recognised that even the judges differ, that one set is employed to correct another; and a final decision is only arrived at because there is not another set yet provided to differ from them. if a layman does not know the law he may be punished for his ignorance; but if a judge does not know it the person in whose favour he has given a decision may be punished by payment of the costs of appeal. let us not be too hard then on the ignorance of the man who has transgressed one of our numerous commandments. in the country, and where people are not crowded together, there are offenders against good government; but there each one knows the other, and when a man commits a petty offence, though the local constable sees it, he may be judiciously blind if in his judgment that is the best course to take. he knows the inhabitants--they are his friends--and he reacts to the opinion of the district. if he makes an arrest the matter is discussed, and when the offender comes before the court, magistrate and prisoner meet as persons who know one another. judgment is given on a knowledge not only of the offence, but of the offender, and all parties in the case are tried by the public. in the city it is not possible for the policeman to know the people who live in his district, nor for them to know him. this is a great disadvantage to begin with, for he is not able to distinguish between those who may be corrected and restrained by their friends without the need for their being charged and those who cannot be so dealt with. he arrests a person whom he does not know for committing an offence. the prisoner is brought before a judge who knows neither of them, save officially, and judgment is given according to scale. as for informed public opinion directed on the proceedings, there is none. in the city as in the country, however, if an offender is known as being ordinarily a well-behaved man he may not be prosecuted. if he is overcome by drink someone may see him home or send him there. it is not so much a question of his being well-to-do; it is a question of his being known. if not known, no matter what his means he cannot be sent home in a cab; but he may be taken to the police station in a wheelbarrow. what else can the police do? we take men of good physique and character, many of them country-bred and unacquainted with the complexities of city life. they are paid the wages of a labourer, and with a uniform invested with powers and duties of the most varied kind. they must be able to keep people from offending, or to arrest them if they do offend; they must know the law; they must be prepared to act as doctors on emergency--what must they not be able to do? we multiply our complaints, and cast on their shoulders duties we ought to perform ourselves; blaming them not only for any blunders they may commit, but also for our own. we compel them to make arrests and then lament the result. x is sent to prison in default of paying a fine, on conviction for using obscene language. she is seventeen years of age, but does not look more than fifteen. in years she is a young woman, but in body and in character she is a big girl. she is the eldest of a family, the father of which is a casual labourer. the mother does occasional charing. both take drink, but neither has ever been convicted or charged. the girl is employed in a factory and earns about enough to support herself. at night she wants some fun after her day's work, and she does not want to assist all the time in the household. she plays with other and younger girls and is probably their leader. there is no playground for them but the street corner, except they take the "back close," which is not lit and which might be a source of greater evil than the street. a complaint is made to the police of the bad language used by the girls. it is certainly lurid; but where have they learned it? the decorative expressions complained of are part of the current vocabulary of many in the district, but are used with more restraint by the elders. we have all our pet adjectives, which differ in different localities and are of the nature of slang. in the west end a thing may be "awfully nice," though nothing can be at once awful and nice; in the east end the adjective may be quite as inappropriate, but everybody knows its signification; and so with other parts of speech. true, their language is filthy, but it does not shock those who use it; and that is perhaps the saddest thing about it. the girls are warned, but they persist in speaking their own language, and in bravado ornament it profusely and shout opprobrious words at the policeman. one is caught. she has not necessarily been worse than the others in her behaviour, but she has either run in the wrong direction or not fast enough to escape. she is taken to the police station and warned. the complaints persist. again she is arrested. she is the bad one; she was taken before. on her liberation from prison she had lost her work. she was shunned by the other girls, whose mothers forbade them to associate with one who had been in prison, lest they should be taken in charge also. it is an offence to associate with some classes of offenders and criminals, and the cautious among the dwellers in these districts do not care to take risks, so they try to keep clear of anyone who has been in the hands of the police. the law may be right enough, but you will not get them to believe that the innocent person is safe; not if he is poor. "keep awa' frae jeannie. she's been in the nick; an' if they see you wi' her they'll maybe think you're as bad, and land ye there tae." they would help her if they could, but they fear that association with her would only hurt themselves and do her no good. those who have been in prison themselves will go with her, and those who are reckless; to their company she is confined, for she will not take to religion and the help of its professors. she is soon back again; as cheerful and as tractable as any girl could be. in essence it is a common story. the police could have done nothing else in the circumstances, and she had no grudge against them, but admitted that they had treated her fairly; can as much be said for those who by persistent nagging force the hands of their officials, and who are more bent on punishing offenders than on mending their bad manners? we have lost the personal interest we ought to have in our neighbours; we have gone out from among them; we have cast on officials duties we ought to undertake ourselves as citizens, and the result is an increase in the number of offences. in themselves these offences are small matters, but the offenders in many cases find themselves in prison for the first time as a result; and it is the first time that counts. every time a man is sent to prison for a small offence committed he has been given a push towards the life of a habitual offender; and the poorer and more destitute he is the greater difficulty will he have in overcoming the effect of that conviction. his first appearance may be on account of a small transgression, but there is a common saying that is often taken to heart--"as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb." the absence of personal interest in their neighbours on the part of men in crowded districts not only permits atrocious assaults and homicides to take place in the very heart of a densely populated district, but it allows thieves to exercise their profession unmolested because unknown. it also enables them to escape observation when they are being sought for. the city is their hunting-ground and their refuge. crime is largely a by-product of city life. it might be mitigated if we were more public-spirited; but it will always be an evil crying out against us, so long as we permit conditions to exist which shut men into dens under circumstances that make decent communion and fellowship between them difficult if not impossible, and compel them to remain there till they can pay a ransom to the man who holds up the land for his profit or his pleasure. chapter iii immigration and crime the stranger most likely to offend--the reaction to new surroundings--the difficulty of recovery--the attraction of the city--the churches and the immigrant--benevolent associations--the alien immigrants--their tendency to hold themselves apart-- deportation--a language test required--the alien criminal--his dangerous character--the need for powers to deal with him. a majority of the prisoners dealt with in glasgow police courts are not glasgow-born; and this holds true of outlying towns. it is the stranger who is the "bad one." the town-bred man more readily accommodates himself to the conditions of life there. he grows up among them and his life is rooted in them. while he is yet young his steps are directed for him, and he learns to avoid dangers into which the stranger may fall. there can be no association of a man with his neighbour anywhere without some degree of conformity to a common standard of conduct. no one can outrage the social customs of his companions with impunity; and everybody is more or less influenced by the opinion of those for whom he has a regard; so he conforms to the standard of behaviour set by the circle in which he moves and is steadied thereby. if, as is generally the case, his companions are not ill-disposed, he is likely to be a law-abiding citizen; if otherwise, he will get an impetus towards crime. in any case he is of the soil, and his growth can the more easily be watched and directed. the man from the country finds himself living under new conditions that may rapidly make or mar him. he is away from the friends to whom he looked for guidance; he is cast on his own resources and must exercise an independent judgment; a temptation is not checked by the consideration of what the family would think; and having nothing but his own inclinations to consult, he is more likely to run loose than he would be when at home. he is not necessarily more vicious or more foolish than his town-bred brother; but he is not accustomed to the same kind of temptations, and can neither resist them as well nor yield to them as gracefully. he is therefore more likely to succumb, and more likely to suffer severely from the consequences if he is found out; for just as he is handicapped by the want of guidance, being a stranger he is not so likely to get proper assistance if he falls into trouble. men are attracted to the city by the hope of increase in pay and pleasure; and though in some respects the life seems unattractive enough, they still come. the only people who are certain not to come, and perforce to stay, are those who have a home in the country and fixity of tenure there. their sons may and do invade the towns, but when they do not succeed there they return to the land. workmen in the country are as liable to lose their situations as townsmen; their work is hard and their hours of labour are long; they think their pleasures are few and dull compared to those men may have in the city, and they gravitate to it. they are drawn in by its glitter, and driven in by the drabness of country life; sometimes also by the clearance of men to make way for the huge pleasure-grounds that disgrace scotland, and have resulted in the replacement of men who drew their subsistence from the soil (living a hardy life and rearing a healthy race) by deer and their keepers. when the landless man comes to town and fails to find steady work, he cannot go back to the country unless the family of which he is a member have some hold on the land. the children of crofters do go back in times of depression, returning to their father's holding and working there; but the others swell the ranks of the unemployed and are in peril of degeneration into the loafer or criminal. the churches play an important part in helping those young people from the country who are recommended to them; but many never connect themselves with churches when they come to town at first. some make a beginning, but drop off, not so much because they dislike religion, but because they like occasionally to talk and think about something else; and in comparatively few of the churches is the need for providing social intercourse recognised. a man filled with the missionary spirit can find numerous outlets for his energies, for there are evangelistic meetings held in all districts and on all nights, and they welcome new-comers; there are also temperance societies engaged in the propagation of their ideas; but the majority of people who migrate to our towns are not prepared to engage in that kind of occupation in their leisure hours, and they have just to drift for the most part. there are benevolent associations of the natives of one county and another which have a powerful influence for good in aiding those who come under their care, but that they do not cover the whole ground is evident from the fact that many of their compatriots are never heard of by them. that they stand by one another in an admirable way is undeniable, and their influence is so strong that for certain kinds of public appointments in glasgow the glasgow man has a poor chance--there being no society of the natives of glasgow in that place yet. the absence of family counsel and constraint which may lead to the degradation of the man who takes the wrong turn, may be a powerful aid to his rise if he gets on the right track. he has to think and act for himself; and his freedom from ties enables him to attend more exclusively to his business. the immigrant to the city from the country is largely represented in prison; but he is also largely represented in the town council--and the one place may be held to be as typical of the reward of the ill-doers as the other is of the well-doers. there is another immigrant whose conduct usually receives more attention from the public, viz. the alien. in the west of scotland foreigners are present in large numbers, having this in common, that they tend to form little colonies wherever they settle, retaining many of the habits they have brought with them, and remaining aliens in the sense that they are not absorbed in the community as they ought to be. in the collieries in various parts of the west of scotland large numbers of aliens are employed. their names, which in many cases are difficult either to pronounce or to spell, have been set aside by somebody or other and local names substituted; so that it is not uncommon to find a man with a familiar name who is quite unable to speak the language of the country. they keep themselves apart, and do not usually interfere with others, but some of them get into trouble through fighting among themselves. ordinarily peaceable and tractable, they contribute a fair quota to the number of serious assaults committed, though the person assailed is usually another alien. their ignorance of the language also makes them a source of danger to others. when they have done some wild or criminal thing the culprits are deported, after they have served their term of imprisonment; but their isolation from the life of the district has in many cases contributed to the offences committed, since it has prevented them from acquiring the point of view of natives of this country and has caused them to follow the customs of their own land. any proposal to prevent their settling here would come with a very bad grace from us, whose relatives are scattered all over the globe and who pride ourselves on the fact. they are healthy; and are neither wild nor intractable, but are generally industrious and steady. in their interests and our own it is surely not advisable to permit them to continue as colonies apart, separated from us by the bar of language. it would be no act of tyranny or hardship to insist that every alien settling here should, within twelve months of his arrival, satisfy the local authority of his fitness to speak the language sufficiently well to enable him to understand others and be understood by them. at present it is no uncommon thing to find men who have been in the country for years and are yet unable to engage in the simplest conversation in english--or scotch if you like. in one homicide case the accused had been in the district for sixteen years, could only speak a broken dialect, and required to have the simplest statements interpreted to him. in the city this condition of things is less marked, but as a general rule aliens--apart from the professionals--who are committed to prison do not speak the language intelligibly, even though they have been some time in the country, and that for the same reason--they get on all right without it. the italians and others who are largely engaged in trading, pick up enough to enable them to understand and be understood; their occupation makes this a necessity; but even among them the interpreter is far too often required. people are generally given to save themselves trouble; and to learn a language is troublesome. if they can escape the necessity they will do so, and there is no need to blame them for it. but their ignorance is a trouble and a possible danger to us, and it does not seem to be unreasonable to ask that it should cease. there are other immigrant aliens who do speak the language and who are present in the large cities. these are the professional criminals who import their vices, and work their business, in a very systematic way. they are more remarkable for their knowledge of the law than for their ignorance of the language; and they are a very dangerous although not a very large element in the population. they have an organised system of correspondence and go from one part of the country to another, where they have connections. they employ skilled lawyers for their defence when they get into trouble, and within certain limits assist each other in the way of business. there are some of them capable of any atrocity, and they are all quite different from the ordinary criminal of the professional class familiar to us here. they have a certain amount of polish, and an aptitude for appreciating the standpoint of others sufficiently well to get on their blind side. as for moral sense as we understand it, it does not seem to exist in them. crime is their business and they place business first. when they are convicted they are deported, but their resources and organisation enable them to escape conviction very often. they require to be dealt with in a much more drastic way than the law at present permits; for they are not only a danger because of their depredations, but their presence and conduct incite our own undesirables to do things they would not otherwise attempt. as the law stands the onus of proving their undesirability rests on the police, and it is very difficult to get positive evidence. if they were required, on the initiative of the police, to prove to the satisfaction of a court that they were earning an honest living, they would find it impossible to do so. it may be objected that this is like assuming a man to be guilty till he proves his innocence, which is contrary to practice and a bad principle on which to act. as a matter of fact, it is acted upon with our native thieves, once they have been convicted; they may be charged with being found in possession of property and required to account for having it or go to prison; and they can be summarily tried. in respect that a man is an alien he might reasonably be required to show that he is not living off the proceeds of crime, as a condition of his being allowed to remain in the country. he may be refused permission to land if his character is known; but these people know how to get past the immigration authority. why they should then be free to transgress until they trip and are caught it is difficult to see. if an alien seeks citizenship here he must satisfy the authorities that he has lived for at least five years in the country and during that period has been a reputable citizen. the onus of proof is on him, and it is not assumed that because he has never been convicted he should be naturalised. the examination to which he voluntarily submits in order that he may become a british subject he need not undergo if all he wants is the protection of our laws while he is living by breaking them. i suggest that just as some aliens have to submit to examination before being allowed to land, those who have given the authorities occasion to suspect that they are living by illegal means should be cited to appear before and satisfy a court that their conduct is such as to justify their being permitted to remain in the country; and failing their appearance, or their being able to do so, that they should be arrested and deported. chapter iv social conditions and crime the millionaire and the pauper--ill-feeling and misunderstanding-- social ambitions--case of embezzlement--preaching and practice-- gambling--the desire to "get on"--the need to deal with those who profit by the helplessness of others--political action--its difficulty--legislation and administration--the official and the public--personal aid--fellowship. our social inequalities are the cause of much serious crime. that such inequalities always have existed is undeniable, and that they may continue to exist is at least likely; at any rate, there is no immediate prospect of their abolition; but the form and degree they take are variable. within recent times the gulf between the wealthy and the poor has been widened. the pauper is an old inhabitant, but the millionaire is a new portent. the rich man of our grandfathers' day was a local magnate who might be capricious, but who could be personally approached. his successor is cosmopolitan. the poor in those days were not so well informed as they are now that the ends of the earth have been brought together, and the mechanical inventions that have brought wealth to many have enabled the multitude to get a wider outlook on the world. a rich man may be courted for his riches, but they do not now gain him reverence from the poor. if free education has not educated the masses any more than the expensive kind has educated many of the rich, it has enabled them to read. they know more than they did, and with the access of knowledge discontent with their condition has increased. for good or ill many of them have lost the fear of hell, but the fear of the poorhouse is still with them as with many who are better off. the desire to make money dominates all sorts of people, and in the effort men are marred. each sees the greed of his neighbour, but fails to see that he shares the vices of those he condemns. the man who is "successful" is critical of the faults of those less fortunate; and they in turn are often too ready to attribute his position to his absence of scruple rather than to any ability he may possess. there is envy on the one side and distrust on the other; but out of, and in spite of, it all there is steadily growing an effort towards co-operation and mutual help. in the welter of conflicting interests there is much done that every man would disapprove if he saw it done by his neighbour. yet those whose conduct is most shady are often not conscious of the enormity of it, being too much engrossed in the end they seek to be particular as to the means; and that end is not always an ignoble one. they mean to do great things and kind when their ships come home; and they do not see that the question for each of us is not, what would we do if we had what we desire? but, what are we doing, being what we are and where we are? in the thirst for wealth dishonest practices are condoned in business, and within the law robbery is allowed. there is a disposition to take more account of what a man has than of what he is; and this cannot fail to have a vicious effect. x was a young man who held a position of trust and received a small salary. he had no showy vices and, so far as could be ascertained, not many others. he was strong in the negative virtues; being an abstainer from drink, tobacco, and such things as are affected by pleasure-seekers and cost money. his employers were quite satisfied that they had in him a model servant; but they found their mistake, and were as unreasonably indignant as they had been unreasonably pleased; for he had been conducting a very ingenious system of fraud upon them. with the money he had abstracted he had been speculating in shares, and he had been successful up to a point. if his last venture had turned out well he would have been able to resign his situation and live virtuously ever after, first paying back to them their money. this is what he calculated would take place, and if his expectations had been realised nobody would have known of his misfeasance; but he lost on his venture and there was a crash. he pleaded guilty to embezzlement and was sent to prison for a long period. he had disposed of a considerable sum of money, but the curious thing about it was that he claimed that he was simply doing what his employers lived by doing--using other people's money without consulting them as to details; though he admitted that in their case they were in a position to meet claims, and their clients knew that their money was not lying in a safe. he took his sentence quite philosophically, with the remark that he had observed that people who had defrauded certain kinds of commercial corporations, such as banks, always got longer terms of imprisonment than those who merely robbed poor people; and as the firm that employed him was a big concern he would have to be made an example of. he was shrewd in his observations, however wrong-headed they were in some respects, and he is not the only young man who has taken the risk in the attempt to acquire riches and who has argued in the same way. the number of those who are tempted to do so will diminish when it is shown that the successfully dishonest person is as much condemned by the opinion of those whose society he seeks as the failure is condemned by the law. men young and old go wrong in the endeavour to make a show. they want position and are willing to pay for it even at the expense of others; indeed, there are many who spend as much effort and energy in intriguing to get a position they could not fill as, if properly applied, would enable them to qualify for it. some want to be social leaders, and exceed the limits of their income in the attempt. so long as they merely get into debt their creditors are the losers, but there are limits to credit and their situation may offer them facilities for peculation. the intention is to repay the money; but the honourable intention may be out of their power to execute, and the criminal act brings them to disgrace and ruin. in all cases where the process has gone on for years without discovery, the offender is found to be firmly persuaded that he is rather an ill-used person, and that if he were only allowed time he would be quite able to show a balance on his side of the account. this suggests the reflection that his conduct must have been often under review by himself, and a wonder as to how long he has taken to twist his mind to a belief in his own integrity in face of the facts; yet it is only some such belief that has enabled him to continue his defalcations. it is sometimes matter for surprise to the public that men who have continued to embezzle funds for years should have appeared so respectable; but they are not acting a part; they have convinced themselves of their uprightness through it all, and that is a very important step towards convincing others. even the churches are not free from the imputation of making the end justify the means; and with lectures against gambling they sometimes run lotteries to obtain funds. this does not show bigotry against gambling, but it can hardly help to drive home the objection to the vice. example is worse than precept in these cases. the press, which reaches a wider audience than the pulpit, is becoming more a means of making money for its proprietors than a medium for the formation of reasoned opinion; and some papers have organised sweepstakes under the thinnest disguise. as for betting, there are numerous papers that depend on it for their profits. workmen and women pore over the betting news and run into debt to back a horse. the misery that many entail on themselves and their dependents by this conduct is widespread, and efforts have been made to check it, but it does not seem to be diminishing. as a rule it is safe to assume that people do not bet with the intention of losing, but with the hope of winning. it is not harmless excitement they seek; it is money they want; and they argue that they are doing nothing different from what is done by wealthier people on the stock exchange. they know as little about horses as those who speculated in rubber knew about that substance; and they have no interest in improving the breed. they want to be rich without working, and they see that some men manage it. the losers are forgotten; and what do they matter anyway if _we_ win? this spirit of selfishness and greed is not confined to the gambler, though it shows itself nakedly in his pursuit; and before it can be exorcised a better conception of our duty to each other will require to be attained. meanwhile it is a small thing to prosecute bookmakers and those who deal with them, if the higher forms of gambling are left untouched. the poor cannot afford to gamble and must be protected from themselves; but can anybody afford to gamble? can the state afford to allow them to set such an example? the whole evil has been dealt with in a peddling spirit. the bookmakers stand to win, whoever may lose, but they are not the people who gain most. they are not an influential class, however. if the newspapers were prohibited from publishing betting news the machinery for the gamble would fall to pieces; but if this were attempted there would be a howl, for they are not without influence. so there are difficulties. there always are difficulties when influential people have to be dealt with; and it is much easier to hit a little man than a big one--but the profit is less. i do not say that there are not those who gamble for the sake of the excitement, but that these do not come to prison as a result. the man who does run grave risk of landing there is he who gambles for the money that he may win but that he usually does lose. the desire to shine among others is at the root of much of the foolish and criminal conduct of many men and women. it is not necessarily an evil desire, but the methods adopted to secure admiration may result in evil. there is much talk of the dignity of labour, side by side with the worship of money. if people draw the conclusion that the dignity of labour means that one man should work that another may spend, they are likely to make an effort to escape the dignity. they hear of the blessings of poverty, but they see that among them are not comfort and social consequence; and in so far as they prefer these they will let anybody else have the blessings. to admit that some must be poor if others are rich is not to accept the poor man's lot for oneself. so long as honest work is only given formal praise and poverty implies practical hardship, while the possession of money is allowed to create a presumption in favour of a man, there will be those who will seek to get it by any means in their power. if we paid the homage to poverty that is given to wealth we might reasonably expect to find these people content to be poor; but while there is no likelihood of that being done, we may as well face the fact that our social inequalities result in the commission of crimes against property among a proportion of those who have a chance of helping themselves thereby. the great mass of men and women--rich and poor--do keep free from grave offences, living their lives quietly and discharging their duties as citizens according to their light and their ability; but these false ideals stimulate many to the commission of crime. it is well, therefore, to remind ourselves and others that ultimately a man is judged not by what he has but by what he is, and to recognise that a man is foolish if he sacrifices his life and dwarfs his personal development for any social advantage whatever. the conditions which engender crime may be greatly modified and in many cases may be destroyed by political action. crime is largely a concomitant of city life, as we have it. to live properly people need room, and so long as the present congestion exists all our efforts can at best palliate the evils which infest and infect us. we may regulate the sale of drink in order to prevent drunkenness; we may classify our poor and attempt to relieve their poverty; but drink and poverty are factors which remain comparatively inactive in the causation of crime, except where men are packed together to the degree in which we see them. let our cities continue to be hemmed in and built in the air instead of being spread over the earth, and we shall require additional sanitary regulations to combat disease and more police laws to cope with crime, while the numbers in our institutions will increase. the city is the product of our industrial pursuits and the methods by which they are followed; but the city as it exists is no more necessary to the life of the community than the city before the day of public health acts was a necessary part of our civilisation. men could live conveniently near each other and work at the same occupation, at least as efficiently, if they had room, as is possible under the cramping conditions that exist at present. man's life ought to be something more than his work; and there will be more who work to live when there are not so many who merely live to work. reform your cities; or rather see that men are not allowed for their private interests or pleasures to "do what they like with their own" in defiance of the public welfare, and the cities will reform themselves. the tenants of the crowded districts are hustled by the law, which in some cases they offend from sheer inability to do otherwise. when those who make a profit by the existing conditions of affairs are as summarily dealt with there will be a possibility of improvement. there are some landlords who assume the supervision of their property and of their tenants, but others are merely rent collectors; and their carelessness provides opportunity for the criminal classes to hide themselves. so long as the law allows men to make a profit by denying others access to the land except on payment of whatever ransom they choose to exact, the cities will remain crowded and the country will become depopulated. when the landlord is made to pay if he will not let his land be put to its most profitable use, there will be less inducement for him to withhold it for a time in the hope of realising a famine price from the needs of the community. it is poor policy to punish people for the results of the strain to which they are subject while those who profit by the cause are left alone. but political action is slow and political parties are--what they are. to most of us a change of government means that lord this is replaced by mr. that; probably relatives, and almost invariably belonging to the same caste; none of them particularly hasty in applying the remedies in which they believe--for when it comes to doing things instead of talking about them a great deal more depends on sentimental impressions, the result of friendly contact, than on intellectual opinions and political theories. politicians are like other people; their imagination can more readily picture the result of action as it affects their own friends than as it affects those of another social class. those who have a vested interest in the present conditions of things may personally suffer by any remedial change; and though there are many who are magnanimous enough to place the public gain before all else, there are far more who honestly cannot see that any measure whereby they would suffer a private loss can possibly be a public gain. they are often very estimable persons, and knowledge of that fact paralyses the action of their friends who are politically opposed to them. it would be so much more easy to remedy evils if those who profited by their existence were only ill-natured and grossly selfish people; but when they are kindly and courteous it is a pity to push them. besides, they are often widows and orphans; for there is a remarkably high rate of mortality among the husbands and fathers of people who have money invested in land and in breweries. there are other widows and orphans, however, who have no intimate friends in parliament, and whose condition cannot appeal so powerfully to the imagination of ministers because they belong to another class. the trouble is that the measures that would aid one set of widows and orphans would hurt the other; and even when legislation is passed its action is delayed out of tenderness to existing interests. there are many men in every parliament who are anxious to remedy the bad conditions they see around them, and they are not confined to any side of the house; but there is no popularly elected body in the country where the private member has so little power. in a town or county council he has a vote in the election of the executive, and if he is not pleased with the conduct of those whom he helps to office he can let them know the fact pretty effectively. the member of parliament finds the government formed without any consultation with him on the subject, and if he belongs to the same political party it is disloyalty for him to criticise ministers unfavourably. he is, however, allowed to praise and defend them, and this usually keeps him tolerably busy. for the rest, he must never vote against them except on a subject that they count of little importance and on an occasion where they are quite sure of having a majority without him. he must keep his own side in, no matter how much he disapproves of their conduct of business; and he must recognise in practice that the men who lead are the party. the people who sent him there may replace him at the first opportunity, but he will have the consolatory reflection that if the other side has got in it is only to behave in the same way. some other members of the families whose hereditary genius for governing the country has made us the great nation we are will fill the posts their relatives have vacated; and the electors will continue to have the shadow of representative government while the substance remains with their betters. whatever the laws may be, much will depend on their administration. the more the parliament is occupied in discussing legislation the less attention can it pay to administration. the real executive power thus passes into the hands of the permanent officials; and the tendency is that they should direct, as well as carry out, policy. as the public departments extend their activities they are brought more closely into contact, and it may be into conflict, with the lives of the citizens; and it is all the more necessary that the powers given to them should be exercised in consonance with the views of the representatives of the public, or the public servant may become the master of those he serves. a man may be both able and zealous, but if his ability and zeal are employed in the wrong direction he is a greater danger than a stupid and lazy man would be; yet if he is not guided and directed in the path he ought to go he can hardly be blamed for following his own judgment. the only security that public departments will act in accordance with public opinion lies in their intimate supervision by representatives of the public. at present it is notorious that only a nominal supervision exists, and this is bad for everybody concerned; bad for the member of parliament, for his constituents will not separate administration to which they may object from legislation which they may approve, nor his votes from the acts of the departments; bad for the officials, for the desire for power grows with its use, and the heads are in peril of confusing their will with the public interest and their prejudices with the good of the service, while their subordinates will be tempted to a servility that is fatal to faithful discharge of duty, if they get the idea that their comfort and their promotion depend without appeal on their chief; bad for the public, for it is a poor exchange to overthrow the tyranny of an arbitrary monarch and to live under the unchecked dominion of a board. this condition of things may seem far off yet to many, but it has arrived already so far as some of the poor are concerned, for they are hurried and worried and prosecuted by zealous officials for doing things they cannot avoid doing; and for my part i do not believe that that is in accordance with public opinion, though i do not attribute blame to the officials concerned, who are only acting according to their light. where there are an enlightened public opinion and a real public interest in affairs it is better for all concerned; and though parliament may fail to deal with those whose interests conflict with public needs, there are many things that private citizens can do to mitigate existing evils, even although there were no new legislation passed. officials could be aided and encouraged to aim at the prevention of wrongdoing rather than at the punishment of the wrongdoer. we might set about to see that more opportunities of reasonable recreation are provided, and to find out wherein and why our present provision fails. employers might take a greater interest in their workers, and if they sought to learn from them would be in a better position to teach them. the churchman might easily come more closely into contact with some less fortunate member of the congregation and give kindly aid and counsel; or receive it, perhaps, where he would least expect it. all of us might see, if we looked a little less to our own business and pleasure, that there are many around whose struggle is a sore one, and whom a friendly interest would help far more than any gift. many there are who, although neither able to pay nor to pray, could do much good and gain much by personal service. it would help as nothing else can to a better understanding between us and our neighbours, and a more acute apprehension of the evil surroundings in which so many are compelled to live. men go wrong and keep wrong for the lack of good fellowship; and the conditions which keep them struggling in a crowd hinder the fraternising of man with man. the man who is comfortably seated in a theatre has time and opportunity to look around him and to observe his neighbours if he choose. he will not be uncivil to them, even if he take no interest in them. put him in a crush at the door, and in the effort to get into the place or out of the crowd, he will not have the chance, even if he had the will, to keep his elbow out of the ribs of his neighbour, though that neighbour were his dearest friend. how many are crowded together struggling to get out of the welter and too busy to take much interest in others! i do not forget that there are many good people who are interested in the poor and fallen; but it is those who are in danger of falling that get least attention. there are mothers who are struggling on to save their sons from the ruin to which they are tending, and children who are trying to redeem their wayward parents; in face of all failures striving with a patience as admirable as it seems futile; but there are few to help. let a father turn his daughter out for her misconduct and shirk his duty as a parent; let her go headlong to the gutter; and when she is sufficiently stained there will be rescuers tripping over each other to aid her. the pity is that so often they should be more interested in trying to make people conform to their ideals than in helping men and women for their own sake. most of us have not been so brilliantly successful in ordering our own lives that we are justified in directing the lives of others; but by interest in those who are having a harder struggle to live than has fallen to our lot we may not only encourage the individual to better effort, but we shall see more clearly what needs to be done by us as a community, not to make men, but to remove those conditions which tend to enslave them. chapter v age and crime the inexperience of youth--the training of boys--case of a truant-- another case--intractability--the foolishness of parent and teacher-- the absence of mutual understanding--recreation--malicious mischief and petty theft--the cause thereof--the need for instructing parents-- pernicious literature--the other kind--the modern dick turpin--the boy as he leaves school--amusements--repression--blind-alley occupations-- the adolescent--physical strain of many occupations--unequal physical and mental development--the street trader--hooliganism--knowledge and experience--the perils of youth--old age. the great majority of those who enter prison for the first time are young persons, and in many cases they do not show any great degree of moral turpitude. "as the twig is bent the tree is inclined," and what might have been merely a phase of recklessness or a passing mood of lawlessness is sometimes made a fixed habit as a result of the way it has been treated. the younger the person the narrower is his experience, other things being equal. in making the experiments which give experience we may hurt ourselves and others. there are some who are content to accept the statements of others and to yield an easy obedience to those over them, but in early life the number is not great; and where the elders are too busy to pay much attention to the young there is a greater need for the boy to find out things for himself. rules of life as they are presented to many boys consist of a series of prohibitions, and it is not always the worst boys who kick against them. wild and intractable boys do not always grow up into bad citizens; but if they are taken in hand by the penal machinery of the state there is not much chance for them. they may imitate the showy vices of their elders not because they are vices, but because they are showy. they do not admire the wrong things more frequently than grown-up people, but they show their admiration in a way that is sometimes awkward both for them and for us. they are misunderstood and condemned when they persist in going their own way, although the cause of their vagaries may be simple enough if an attempt were made to find it. x was a boy of ten, the son of a man in a comfortable position who had lost all control over him. the boy had run away from school, and had left his home more than once and gone wandering in the country. his father had coaxed and beaten him alternately without any beneficial result. his schoolmaster informed me that the boy was usually quiet and tractable, but did not take much interest in most of his work. he was not of defective intellect and he would not apply himself to some parts of the school course. he was fond of animals. i found him suspicious and reserved; but as he had been told that he was to be seen by the prison doctor, and as he evidently had expected to be confronted with an animated bogey-man, there was nothing surprising in that. he answered questions in monosyllables or not at all, but he promised that he would come himself to my house and see some things which i thought might interest him. i would not allow him to be brought to me, though he lived some three miles off, and he kept his promise and came. with the aid of some other juveniles he was made to feel at ease, and i found he could tell a good deal about animals, such as tadpoles and frogs, and that he had a real interest in such things. he came back several times, and in an indirect way he was advised of the danger of doing what his father had objected to; but it was perfectly evident that his conduct had been the result of the way in which he had been treated, and fear had caused him to commit at least some of the actions that had given cause for complaint. those who had charge of him were more in need of direction than he was; for they had acted on the assumption that they understood what was best for him, whereas the fact was that they had not the faintest idea of the disposition of the boy, and were simply driving him to extremities in their efforts to keep him right. they were repressing instead of directing his tendencies, with disastrous consequences. his schoolmaster understood; and he was permitted to act on his knowledge with satisfactory results, the parents never having thought that he was as likely to be able to instruct them as to teach their boy. in this case the boy was fortunate beyond many others in respect that his parents were able to seek and obtain advice when they became alarmed because of his behaviour. they were in a position which enabled them to give him the necessary attention when they learned what was required. x was a boy who had developed the habit of playing truant from school and had come under the observation of the attendance officer. he was in danger of becoming an associate of city undesirables. his mother was a decent widow who had to support him and herself by casual labour. she was obliged to go out in the mornings to clean offices and he was left to himself. she was loth to have him sent to an industrial school, but she preferred that that should be done to running the risk of having him get into the hands of vicious persons. there was no question as to her rectitude, and as little of her ability to look after him when she had the power; but she could not be out working and at the same time be discharging her maternal duties in guiding him. so he had to be sent to the institution. in a case like this--and they are not uncommon--it would be far better to free the woman from the need of leaving her child and see that she looked after him. she has a greater personal interest in him than any official person can have and it need cost no more; while the gain in character cannot be measured in terms of cash. the mother's burden is greater than she can bear, and that is a reason for relieving it; but it is no reason for breaking up the family and loosening the tie between parent and child, and the practice cannot even be justified on the score of expense. boys get the name of being bad when they are intractable, but bad boys are fewer than bad men. there are too many people who are driven to assume that they know what is best for the boy--or the man--and that without making any attempt to understand those for whom they prescribe. when a boy rebels against the line of action laid down for him it is taken as evidence of his wickedness, though it may only show his good sense. he may be doing the wrong thing with a purpose more reasonable than that of his mentor, but he is likely to find that his intention will meet with no sympathetic consideration even if he reveals it, and his action will meet with punishment if he owns it. he is encouraged to lie in the hope of pleasing his master, and when he is found out his iniquity is magnified. boys are far more given to the attempt to find the point of view of those who are in authority over them than grown-up people are to find the standpoint of the boy; and children will often show a deeper knowledge of their parents than the parents have of them. if instead of assuming knowledge and showing ignorance parents would try to understand, there would be less disposition to rule the young by general prohibitions and a freer hand given to them in the choice of their pursuits. left alone, the child will show its bent; it is not for the parent to thwart its aptitudes, but to direct them into useful channels. many are made miserable by being set to books, and others are made equally wretched by physical drill. every year brings forth its own fad. the adult may keep free from its tyranny to some extent, but let it find a place in some code or other and every juvenile runs a grave risk of being subjected to it, because someone in authority who knows nothing about him or his needs has so ordered it. the boy is kept at school for nearly as many hours in the week as many men work, and when he is set free from its restraint he runs wild--if he is not too tired, or if he has not been set tasks which cause him to work overtime at home. he gets into mischief, and is denounced for his misdeeds and the trouble and annoyance he causes; but boys are not more mischievous than they were. there are few adults who have not been a great nuisance to others in their own early days, but too many of them seem to have forgotten all about that. by all means let the boy who has played some mischievous prank be restrained and corrected, but in choosing the method it might not be a bad plan to remember the exploits of a boy who was no better in his day than the culprit is, if no worse. when we show that we recognise a clear distinction between cramming juveniles with knowledge and educating them, they will learn at the school how to amuse themselves without annoying others. at present they are in this respect left mainly to their own devices, and in very few cases is there any serious ground of complaint against them. considering their imitative tendencies and the incitements many of them have towards wrongdoing, it is wonderful how few go far astray. when a boy is sent to a reformatory he has opportunities given him for play, and the importance of providing different forms of recreation for him is not ignored. this is by some called "putting a premium on wrongdoing," and yet in spite of the reward there are few boys who deliberately adopt a course of law-breaking in order to have the advantages of life in that institution. either they are too stupid or there is not such a bias on their part towards evil as some would have us suppose. the recreation which forms part of the means adopted to reform the boy who has transgressed might conceivably prevent transgressions if it were placed within the reach of others, especially as the association of boys whose common interest is that they have all been before the courts is not likely to make for their improvement. whatever its defects as an educational institution, the school has this to its credit, that a better standard of conduct is maintained than could be acquired by many of the scholars if they were left to grow up under the conditions that obtain in their homes. now and then someone does a particularly shocking thing, and until quite lately when this occurred the offender was liable to be brought to the police court. now there is a special court for dealing with children, but as there is no change in the judge or in the officials before whom the child appears, all that has been gained is his separation from older offenders. this is something to be thankful for, but it is a minor mercy compared with what ought to be done. he is more a subject for treatment by those whose experience enables them to understand children than a "case" to be tried by a magistrate whose traditions are those of the criminal courts. most of the charges are acts of malicious mischief or petty thefts. the offenders have got out of parental control or have eluded the supervision of their parents. in some cases the parents are culpably careless or negligent, taking little interest in their children and making their home worse than it need be. they spoil the child without sparing the rod, for the boy is often hammered without mercy when he annoys them. he keeps out of their way and may fall into bad company and bad habits. most of these boys show evidences of neglect in their appearance; but they are not, though they may become, desperadoes. others go astray not so much from the culpable neglect of their parents as because, with the best will in the world to guide the boy, the parent is either incompetent to do so from sheer stupidity, or, more frequently, from being too busily engaged in trying to make a livelihood to have the necessary time to give to his care. a smaller number are the children of parents who are quite competent to look after them, but who have failed to keep themselves in sufficiently close touch with them--which is a more difficult thing to do than it seems. at school the boy may be under good guardianship, but he is away from his mother during the greater part of the day, and he may pick up companions who will not exercise the most favourable effect on him. they need not be bad, but they may be bad for him. out of school hours he seeks for recreation, and in the effort to obtain amusement of a special kind he may take what does not belong to him, and be found out and complained of; or not be found out and continue the practice. it is all very simple and not at all uncommon--except in the result. honesty has to be learned, and some people never learn it; though they never commit crimes. there is a difference between being honest and being dishonest within the law. there are few women or men who have not at some time or other "dishonestly appropriated property," though they did not express it that way when they abstracted sweets well knowing the penalty if caught. some boys do not steal sweets, but they steal money to buy sweets; and in the same way others steal money to pay the price of admission to a place of entertainment. sometimes they break into shops to steal, and they are then young criminals; but this rarely happens when the necessary money can be picked up at home. in a young person the desire for pleasure is naturally too strong to be at first repressed by a sense of the rights of property. he does not need to be taught that sweets please the palate or shows delight the eye; but he requires to learn that in the long run honesty is the best policy. children are not likely to steal if they can get what they want without stealing, but they may help themselves when they can if they are subjected to unreasonable prohibitions. even men and women have been driven far out of the right path through attempts to repress their desires for harmless amusement and to make them take life solemnly. the dishonesty of children arises not so much from a perverted nature as from an inability to appreciate the importance of honesty. it is a phase that passes as their experience of the world grows. they can be trained out of it, but attempts to knock it out of them are as likely to knock it into them. there ought to be provision made whereby parents could be advised, admonished, and assisted in dealing with children whom they have been unable to control. our children courts are not designed with this end in view, and i doubt whether it makes much difference to the child who is sent to one of our institutions that he was sent from one room in the courthouse rather than from another. our money would be better spent in assisting parents who have the will to do well by their children, but who have not the power, than in taking the children away from them. as for those who are careless of their children, they should be dealt with for their carelessness. in many cases the apathy they show is a consequence of our methods. if, instead of taking the children away from those who neglect them, we trained and assisted them, we should have better parents and better children. if carelessness and callousness were then shown by the parents we could proceed with justice to deal with them for culpable misconduct. at present we are not in a position to do so, since we are not prepared to help them to discharge their responsibilities. we make it easier for them to neglect than to care for their offspring, and if they lose control of them to a sufficient extent we free them from the burden altogether. the spirit of enquiry and experiment leads many boys into mischief, and some of their malicious acts are the result of it. men too readily forget that the boy sees things in a quite different light and relationship from them. some of the housebreaking adventures that look so bad on a charge-sheet appear quite different when the story is told from the boy's standpoint, and they do not always show such depravity as one would expect. some boys are always seeking adventures and becoming absorbed in them; others are content to read about deeds of daring, and the works they favour are often crude enough. occasionally one is taken with a mask and pistol in his possession attempting to rob in the highway, and then we have homilies on the evils of pernicious literature of the "dick turpin" sort, which might be more convincing if the homilists were themselves free from connection with stuff that is worse. the adventurous boys are not those who read much of any kind of book; they are too busy living. the "blood" is devoured more by the boy who dreams rather than acts; but of the thousands of men who as boys read prohibited books and enjoyed them, few are likely to spend much time on the equally sensational publications that circulate in millions among adults. on the whole, the boy will not get a more distorted view of life from the highly coloured papers he reads than he would obtain from some of the newspapers; and when he is being condemned for his preference for "bloods," it would not be amiss to remember that these productions have never set themselves to foment in his mind feelings of ill-will against people of other lands. it is not the boys but the adults who are raised by the papers they read into hysterical outbursts of senseless rage or equally senseless fear now of one and now of another continental power; and if "literature" is to be judged by its apparent effect, then these papers are more pernicious than the "bloods," which the boy prefers to the books which are designed for his moral instruction. there is no comparison between his highwayman--a boy's highwayman who robbed the rich and gave to the poor, to the inversion of all social order--and the industrious apprentice who married his master's daughter, poor girl. the hero is a hero to him because he dares all risks, is true to his friend, is gallant and generous, and faces death with a brave heart. if he does the wrong thing he does it in the right way, and it is not the thief but the man who gains the boy's admiration. as for the industrious one, even a boy knows that there are not enough masters' daughters to go round; and if he revolts at the selfishness of the gospel of getting on, he is right in rejecting such a false basis of morals. we know that the boy's robin hood or dick turpin never existed in fact; but if they exist in his fancy? to those who denounce them these papers are only a glorification of theft of a particular kind, but there is no likelihood of its ever coming into vogue again. dick turpin is now a company-promoter and his cheques are in demand by churches and political parties. he does not risk his life now, and we are very glad to be taken into his confidence; but the boy has not found that out yet. his books may be ill-chosen, but wholesale condemnation will not mend the matter; and in books, as in other things, it is impossible to tell what is good for the boy till something more is known about him than that he is a boy. when he reads it is safe to assume that he does so because he feels some need is supplied thereby. when its nature is discovered a step will be made towards its better supply, but not before. to take the boy away from the book he likes to a standard author on the ground that it is better for him, is to run the risk of creating in him a permanent dislike for the books chosen. in the city most of the boys leave school when they are fourteen years of age, and entering on new pursuits are subject to fresh temptations. the employment they obtain is largely a matter of chance, but whatever it may be, they are less likely to go wrong when engaged at it than when free from it. their playground is the street, and there is no adequate provision made for their recreation. on payment of a small sum they may obtain admission to the music-halls or the picture-shows, and these latter are largely patronised by boys. that they serve a useful purpose is undeniable, and if the entertainment they offer may not be all that is desirable, it is practically all that is to be had by many. since it cannot be had freely there are temptations to find the means, and the boy amongst his neighbours who is worst off in respect of money is hardest pressed. it is deplorable that some should yield to the temptation to obtain money dishonestly, but it is idle to ignore the condition of things and neglect to provide reasonable opportunities for the recreation which is required after work done. there are private organisations taking the matter in hand, but their appeal, though wide, is, and must be, sectional. boys' brigades in connection with the churches can only reach a minority of the juvenile population, and the same statement applies to boy scouts. there are those who object on principle to both organisations on the ground that they foster the military spirit, but the militarists themselves do not appear to share this view. boys like to play soldiers, but when they get sense they drop that; and meantime they play, greatly to their advantage. as for the scouts, they seem to represent an improved edition of "follow my leader," and their uniform prevents their being interfered with while they play. it does none of them any harm to believe that they are saving their country so long as they are really saving themselves, and no greater number of them develop a taste for a soldier's career later in life than enlist from among those who have never belonged to one or other of the organisations. it may be that the intention of some of the promoters is to feed the army, but that is to leave out of account the boys themselves and the development of their minds. whatever the intention, the result is good in so far as the interest of the game keeps the boys in healthy exercise. the most popular of all the forms of public recreation is the football match. week after week the grounds are filled by tens of thousands of spectators who find in the game they witness not only amusement for the time, but matter of conversation and interest which outlasts the day. young and old they are mostly partisans, and though their conduct may leave much to be desired, that should not distract the observer's attention from the main fact, which is that they are enabled to find a real interest in something which is at least harmless. there are those who lament the fact that the spectators are not players, and who condemn them for being merely vicarious partakers in the game. as a matter of fact, a good many of them have played, and some of them have got into trouble for playing. a very little acquaintance with the facts would make the jeremiahs aware that there is no public provision made for allowing very many to play; that a great many who enjoy seeing others play have no time when free from labour to practise much themselves, even if a field were near; and that if any large number began to play football in the only spaces open to them--the streets--there would be no room to get about. it is not a bad plan to consider men's limitations before condemning their pursuits, but it is too little practised. the football match is a strong counter-attraction to the public-house or the aimless wander through the streets, and the football field would be an admirable playground for many of the young, as they would readily admit; but those who want them to play rather than to look on are never very prominent when an attempt is made to find them the means. some of them use the public streets for a practice ground, greatly to the annoyance of the passengers and sometimes to their danger. the nuisance has to be stopped and the usual method is adopted; the universal panacea for all evils is applied, and the culprits are taken in charge by the police. a small fine is inflicted, with the alternative of imprisonment if the lads are over sixteen. i have seen a batch of them brought to jail because their fines had not been paid. all that had been done was to ensure that these boys would not play football in the streets for several days; yet the cost of their escort and board during that time, if expended on the hire of ground, would have provided them and others with opportunities of play for six months; and they do not play in the streets for choice--at least it has not been demonstrated that they do. alike in work and in play the boy's pursuits are largely matter of chance. he has to seek employment and is generally ready to take anything that presents itself. some of the situations that offer most attractions to him are of such a character as to prevent him from applying himself to work at which in his manhood he could earn a living. in the beginning he may earn more money at these occupations than he would if apprenticed to some skilled handicraft, but before many years he is cast off by his employers, unsettled by his work, and less fit and less inclined to spend time in qualifying either for a trade or a profession. there are far too many blind-alley occupations open to boys, and they should be closed to those entering on industrial life. there are many men who by advancing years are shut out from the work they have been accustomed to do; they are leaving the ranks of the skilled workers, and they could do the work at present done by lads with advantage to the community, since there would not then be numbers of young persons spending the most receptive years of their life in occupations by which they cannot hope to earn their living when they reach manhood. as the boy grows to adolescence he tends to get further from the control of his parents. his growth implies change in him, and he may develop new needs and new desires without the power necessary to control them. it is well recognised that in adolescence there is a special liability to physical or mental breakdown, and short of this it is no uncommon thing for young people to show a degree of instability that alarms their friends for their safety. yet in youth there are very many employed at occupations that are in a marked degree physically exhausting. they are permitted to take far too much out of their body, and though they may thereby develop their muscles, they are almost certain to hinder the healthy development of their minds. the state has interfered with some trades and prohibited certain processes of manufacture on the ground that the chemicals employed affect the health of the workers in an injurious way; and it has laid down regulations for the proper sanitation of workshops. it will yet have to consider the advisability of limiting the amount of physical energy that a man may be allowed regularly to expend in work, and the sooner it begins with lads the better for everybody. at present we hear of the large wage earned by workmen in certain trades and their notorious improvidence. to anyone with eyes to see their improvidence is not more evident in the way they spend their wages than in the way they earn them; for their lives, industrially, are short, and they are too often physical wrecks in middle life, partly from the undue fatigue to which they have been subjected and partly from vices they have contracted in the attempt to stimulate themselves when fatigued. we only hear of the vices, but their industry is equally foolish if it implies excessive expenditure of vitality; and no income in money would justify the cost at which it is obtained. time and again there come before the courts young men who are neither insane nor weak-minded, but whose mental powers have been stunted and twisted by the conditions to which they have been subjected. they are not there for committing offences against property, but for startling the district by some atrocious assault; and there is this point of similarity about them all, that they have been engaged at work which was too heavy for them, and when set free from it have used the strength of a man incited by a man's passions to do things that only a boy would conceive. equal mental and physical development is rare in youth, and in practice everybody recognises the fact. there are some big lads who are young for their years and little ones who are preternaturally old-fashioned; but time mends the matter, and a balance is established if something does not occur to mar the youth meanwhile. placed under conditions that favour the development of muscle and prevent the development of the mental powers, young men cannot be wholly blamed if now and then they shock us by showing the natural result of such a course of training. about the streets of the city there are lads who take care not to work too hard. many of them are the children of parents who have never exercised much care over them, and in some cases they have been sent out with a few coppers to purchase papers and sell them; or to beg. they have learnt to like the life and have deliberately adopted it themselves in preference to other employment. they come to prison sooner or later if they escape the reformatory; and sometimes after they have been there. there is only one opinion possible among those who know the facts about the street-trading they carry on--that it should be abolished; and the only real difficulty is that its abolition ought in justice to be accompanied by some provision for the employment of those young persons who have been engaged in it. the newsboy is a great convenience to the public and the newspaper owners. he sometimes is an important aid to his family, for in a proportion of cases the parent is as respectable and as anxious to take care of the boy as anyone could wish. it is her poverty that compels her to use his services. but the risks to the boys outweigh all advantages. the poverty that compels a mother to subject her child to such risks ought to be relieved; the public and the newspaper proprietors would find other means of obtaining and delivering the news if they realised the cost of the present condition of things; and a nursery of criminals would be removed. in most cases the parents require more attention than the boys, and especially the female parent. the children are her peculiar care, and if she takes to drink the results to them are serious. whatever differences of opinion there may be as to the hereditary transmission of intemperance, there is no room for doubt as to its effect in causing the mother who is subject to it to become an inefficient guardian of her child. her family suffers from neglect, and they are driven f on the street to pick up a living as best they may. when they can they may take lodgings in a "model," and in any case they learn from others how they may live with most license. they are nearly all gamblers, and honesty is not a virtue that they find profitable. the fact is that there could be no worse school for a boy than the street and no worse companions than those who live there, not because they are gifted with any additional dose of original sin; they are no worse mentally, morally, or physically than many others; but because a tradition has grown up among them that is anti-social in its character, and like the rest of folks they conform to the conditions in which they find themselves. when they loaf or steal they do it because they believe that it is easier and more profitable than working in a regular way. show them that they are wrong and they will modify their opinion and their action; but that is precisely what is not done. they have heard all you can tell them, and they adhere to their own standpoint not because they are more stupid than their teachers, but because they see another side to the story. when they are imprisoned they are not generally intractable, and they do what they are told because it pays better to obey than to rebel; but outside, though they recognise the inconvenience and risk of being caught, they have a not unjustifiable belief in their power to dodge those who are watching them, and at the worst they prefer to serve a term of imprisonment once in a while rather than exchange their way of living for another. it is just as well to recognise the fact that they do not follow their objectionable courses because it is difficult to do so. when they are dishonest it is usually because they believe it is easier for them to pick up a livelihood that way than by any honest occupation within their reach or experience. their opinion may be right or wrong, but it is formed on a knowledge of a different set of facts from that within the ken of those who judge them; and it does not help to a better understanding of them that we should assume that they are greater fools than we are, though we do not share their follies. now and then there are outbreaks of savage violence on the part of young lads in the streets; acts which, apparently purposeless and certainly cruel, shock the citizens and anger them. then there is a cry for vengeance; never an attempt to seek the causes of the trouble; and the matter is forgotten when a few of the offenders have been given "exemplary punishments." exemplary punishments always repay examination, and sometimes the hapless individual who is made the whipping-boy for others has been rather cruelly treated; not that that seems to matter if the offence complained of ceases, for it is taken as proof that the authorities have done the right thing in making an example of him. the assumption is one that never bore examination at any time, but it seldom is examined. when a crop of offences of a similar kind startles a district there may be a common cause found if it is sought for; and when the offences cease their cessation may be found to have some relation to that cause; but the arrest and imprisonment of one here and there as examples have as little relationship to the cessation of offences as prayer had in the stopping of an epidemic of cholera. in the one case you have to break up the association of offenders and destroy their spirit; in the other you have to attend to your drains and your sanitation. the punishment and the prayer in either case may assist in so far as they direct attention to the need for right action. how then do these outbreaks originate, and what causes them to cease? in the first place, they are not the work of professional thieves, though these take advantage of them. they begin in horseplay among the lads at the street corner. none of them may be abnormally mischievous or wicked, but a crowd has a spirit of its own which is different from that of its members. everybody has seen dignified citizens under the excitement of, say, an election, when they got the news that the country had been saved in the way they desired, behaving in a sufficiently ridiculous manner and inciting others to a like behaviour. if they had received the news when at home it would at most have caused a smile, but in a crowd one has stirred the other to do and say things that neither would ordinarily do or say. an orator may sway a crowd and utterly fail to move the members of it if he spoke to them individually. the lads at the corner will do things when they are together that none of them would think of doing if he were alone. not only does each incite the other, but all incite each one to action. the horseplay is extended and indulged in by them at the expense of passers-by, and to their annoyance. if it stops there no noise is heard about "hooliganism"; but if the lads, letting themselves loose, go further and injure a respectable citizen there is complaint. the culprit is at first frightened, but having done the thing he tries to make the most of it, especially if he sees his companions rather admire his temerity. he boasts of his daring and excites emulation. one tries to outdo another; other "corners" hear about and imitate the desperadoes; the newspapers take the matter up; and the place is in a state of terror. there is reason for the terror, too; for in the process unoffending and peaceful citizens have suffered serious injury. the professional criminal, who is quick to take advantage of any chance, hangs on to the tails of the foolish lads, and under cover of their depredations helps himself to what he can get. anything that gathers a crowd helps him, but he knows better than to commit assaults of this purposeless kind himself. he has no objection to rob the assaulted or the threatened and terrorised parties, however, provided he can conceal himself. if he can get any of the lads who began the proceedings to assist him, good and well; but in that case they may find they have started on a new and criminal career. the loose cohesion between the mischievous and the criminal elements in the crowd becomes organised; and by this time there is a general demand on the part of the citizens that somebody should be punished. then the examples begin. but the very fact that the outrages have been advertised, while it causes their imitation at first, makes parents and employers enquire into the conduct of their sons and their workers. the lads are kept in at night, or they are otherwise separated from each other. when the association begins to break up the process is not long before it is complete. everyone who leaves it is suspected of being a possible informer, and the dread of they know not what--the most powerful kind of fear--invades their minds. the conduct that seemed so laudable is now given up and the epidemic dies out. to send one of the offenders to prison is simply to make him a martyr in the eyes of his associates, who know that he is no worse than they were and who sympathise with rather than abhor him. the real deterrent is the action of the parents and employers who know the lads. they neither want to get into trouble at home nor to lose their jobs. those who are sent to prison have often little to do with the matter, and their exemplary punishment has less. real hooliganism--the existence of young professional thieves who are in the habit of committing brutal assaults and inflicting injuries recklessly on their victims--is rare in glasgow. the young person is more likely to fall into error than his elders because of his inexperience. whatever the law may hold, no business man expects the kind of service from a youth that he looks for from a man. the young man may have more knowledge than his senior and more recent information on many things, but only time can enable him to co-relate his knowledge. the question whether a lad knows right from wrong is all that some people will consider; which shows how little they know, if they really believe that the answer will enable anyone to assess a man's responsibility. we are taught "right and wrong" from our earliest years by way of principles to guide us, but they are not always easy of application. the difference between a young and an old man is one of experience. practice has enabled the one to use his knowledge in a way that the other has yet to learn. our conceptions of many things on which we have been given information apparently full and accurate have been proved time and again to be quite wrong; experience enables us to discount our anticipations, but it only comes with years. in judging young people it is specially necessary to bear in mind the fact that with all their apparent knowledge they may have totally wrong conceptions of things, and that thus they have been misled. on many occasions i have had to note the fact that a young man had committed an atrocious crime; that he knew perfectly well it was wrong; that it was not due to imperfect powers of control; that he had brooded over and visualised it before the act; and that its accomplishment had left him shocked beyond expression, for it was all so different from his conception of it. no punishment could intensify the shuddering horror with which these lads regarded their own acts, "so different from what i thought it would be"; and yet in ordinary affairs we are well acquainted with the phenomenon. why we should lose sight of it when a crime has been committed and we are seeking to unravel the causes is a mystery. know right from wrong? yes, and conceive the whole matter wrongly. this state of mind is not peculiar to the criminal, and may sometimes be present in those who take upon themselves to judge and condemn him. in early life a lad is not only more liable to go astray, but having fallen it is more difficult for him to recover. he is more impressionable, and the impression of his crime and of the way in which he has been treated stands in his way. he has no record of experience behind it to which his memory can turn and by which he can be helped to seek the right road when he leaves prison. "learn young, learn fair," is as true of crime as of other things. at the opposite end of the path of life a special cause of crime is degeneration of the physical or mental powers. in the first case the man may become destitute and forced into criminal courses in order to gain a living. in the latter case he may develop tendencies and commit certain offences that are quite at variance with his former conduct. as a result of senile changes in body and mind some old men offend against the law. when the condition is marked they are dealt with for it, but in some cases it is only suspected and is not capable of proof. it is simply a question of whether they should be sent to prison or to a lunatic asylum. chapter vi sex and crime the position of woman--the posturing of men--love and crime--two cases of theft from sexual attraction--the female thief--case-- blackmailing--jealousy and crime--two murder cases--case of assault-- fewer women than men are criminals--their greater difficulty in recovery--young girls and sexual offences--perils of girlhood--wages and conduct--exotic standards of dress--ignorance and wrongdoing--the domestic servant--her difficulties--concealment of pregnancy cases-- the culprit and the father--morals--the fallen woman--bigamy. for good or ill great changes have taken place, and more are likely to occur, in the relative social and political positions of the sexes. women are excluded from political power on the ground of their sex, and by way of opposing or of justifying this condition of matters everything but sex is discussed. it has been shown that woman is as clever as man; pays her rates at least as promptly; can work as hard and at as varied occupations; is capable of outstripping him in learning; shows as much intelligence; is more moral; and can sometimes be a greater nuisance to her neighbours. all which may be a very good reason for giving her a vote, but does not alter the fact that there is a great difference between the sexes. that may be no reason for excluding her from a share in the direct election of representatives to parliament, but it is a fact that cannot be lost sight of and which seems to be forgotten when it is not deliberately minimised by both parties to the controversy. man is something more than his brain, and so is woman. indeed, their thoughts and their acts are often the outcome of the condition of their other organs; and the attraction of one sex for the other disturbs most frequently the calculations of observers. among the primitives in our own country the principal subject of interest, after their means of subsistence--and occasionally before even that--is the opposite sex; and if one may judge by the books in greatest demand, those whose opportunities are more varied are far from indifferent to the same subject. the young man who is not stirred by desire to excite admiration in some girl--perhaps in all girls--is an exceptional being; at least he feels uncomfortable in their presence. the love of attracting attention is very common, but while it causes men to do many strange things to obtain praise from their own sex, it much more frequently moves them to extraordinary actions in order to secure the admiration of women. whether men or women are most moved by this feeling it is impossible to say, but the men are more likely to make fools of themselves. their present social position gives them greater opportunities to do so; for the woman's training and traditions are against her openly giving way to her feelings, and when she does so the result is apt to be disastrous. it is the commonest thing in the world to see young people posturing to attract the attention of those of the opposite sex, and their feelings may blind them to the consequences of their conduct. a too intense interest in anything else is fatal to business, and the rule has no exception in favour of the amorous; so it is not uncommon for a lad to lose his place through inattention to his work, the result of preoccupation in his love affairs. in some social stations this condition of mind may lead the lad into criminal courses. x was an intelligent lad who had drifted into crime and continued in it. he had not offended against the law as a boy, though he had passed his early years in a part of the town where the sights are appalling and the prevailing tone of morals is low. he spent the later years of his boyhood in a suburban village and went to work in that district. when he was about seventeen there was an epidemic of "club dancings"; that is to say, places where a number of young men, having hired a room and a fiddler, charged others a small sum for admission to dance--girls being admitted free--and divided the profits or the losses among themselves afterwards. the dancers were usually the sons and daughters of respectable people, but their behaviour after the dance was not innocent. the more ardent among them became passionately addicted to the practice of attending such places and dropped both work and reputation in the process. the scandal of the thing ultimately became so great that under the pressure of public opinion the "clubs" were discontinued. at one time they were many in number and spread over a wide area. the young man of whom i speak was an enthusiastic devotee and went far afield at times to seek his pleasure. working from early morning and dancing till late at night, it was morning again before he got home. he could not possibly keep up both the work and the pleasure, and the work had to go. he had to find money, and he got it dishonestly at less fatigue than by work. this had its end and it finished him. after being in prison he found the door of some of the clubs closed to him, but there were others. he did not escape so readily now when he stole, being known; and gradually he was shut out from the pleasures that had led him astray and shut into the company of those who, like himself, had been in prison. he was only one of a number whose downfall was attributed to dancing; but he had not the slightest doubt that if the dancing had been between those of the same sex it would never have led him off his feet. it was the sexual element in the matter that attracted him. in this case the man lost his regular employment through absorption in his pursuit of women, but in many more cases the situation is forfeited through dishonesty caused by the desire to make an impression on some girl or to provide for her. x was a lad of good character, quiet in his manner, well educated, and employed in a position of trust. he was serious and sober in his walk and conversation, and appeared likely in time to become a pillar of the church and a model citizen. he was attracted by a girl who was of good reputation, and there was never any suggestion of improper conduct on the part of either of them. she lost her situation through no fault of her own, and he placed her in a house which he furnished at the expense of his employers, expressing his intention to marry her later. there was no improper intimacy between them. those who knew him were surprised that he should be able to make the provision for her that he did--surprised also at his choice of her as a wife; but that is not an uncommon attitude on the part of friends--and equally surprised and pained when it was discovered that he had used money which was not his own in order to set up the establishment. it would be easy to multiply examples of cases where the relations between the parties are less innocent, and to show that not merely young men, but men who are advanced in life, have been driven by the attraction of the other sex to sacrifice their position. women are not ignorant of their power, and the criminal among them know how to use it to advantage. because of their sex they are able to commit many thefts and to escape with impunity; indeed, a very large proportion of thefts from the person are committed by women, or with their assistance. they attract the man, go along with him, pick his pocket, and find some excuse to get rid of him in a hurry. when he discovers his loss they are out of reach, and in the great majority of cases he says nothing about it to the police, as to do so would cause scandal about himself. only when the loss is too considerable to be borne, or when something is stolen that cannot be replaced, is the theft reported; and even then it is difficult to convict the thief. x is a girl of twenty-six who has several times during the last eight years been convicted of theft. she is a buxom and cheerful young woman, neither a teetotaler nor intemperate, shrewd, and possessed of a considerable share of intelligence and humour. brought up in a slum district, she was early at work; and when she began her present career she was earning honestly about fourteen shillings weekly. some time ago i was asked to see her on behalf of a lady who had taken an interest in her from her appearance in court, and who was willing to help her to a better way of living. she was perfectly frank with me, and declined assistance on the ground that she could do better for herself. she said that with very little trouble she could make twice the amount to be gained by work, and with little risk. "you ken weel enough, doctor, that the lady could do nothing for me. she would put me in a place among her servants, maybe, and that would be a nice thing for the servants! na, na. when i find it disna pay i'll gie it up. as long's the drink disna get a grip o' me i'm a' richt; and there's no much fear o' that." like others of her class, she does not live by prostitution, though her sex is her decoy. she has no prejudice in favour of chastity, but she takes very good care to run no unnecessary risks, and will find a means of getting away from the man she may pick up--if possible with his purse, but if not, then without it--before matters have proceeded to an extremity. others acting in concert with male accomplices lure men to houses where they are bullied and robbed; and this goes on with a degree of impunity that would be amazing, were it not for the fact that though the practice is well known, there are few of those who have suffered loss of money who care to add to it the loss of reputation that would result if they had to appear in court. blackmailing is another practice that springs from the conduct of both men and women influenced in the direction of vice and crime by sex impulses; and jealousy is a powerful factor in the causation of some crimes of violence. jealousy is not generally looked for on the part of those who are themselves loose in their conduct, but among them it may exist as intensely and manifest itself as powerfully as in any respectable citizen. it seems to be largely a matter of temperament, and to be to some extent existent apart from the desire for exclusive possession. x was an ex-soldier married to a woman of low morals. they had both been loose in their behaviour and were both given to drink. he had on several occasions assaulted her for her infidelities, but he admitted that it was not jealousy that had caused him to do so; and he owned that he was just as bad himself. he went off to the war, and in his absence she behaved very badly and took headlong to drink. she lived with another man. on his return he took up house with her, and the other man was a source of quarrel between them, especially when they were drinking. he was admittedly jealous, though there does not seem to have been any but a retrospective cause for the feeling. one day in the course of a quarrel she compared him with the other man to his disadvantage, and he savagely set on and killed her. x was a sailor who was attached to a woman whom he knew to be a prostitute. when he came to glasgow he lived with her, quite well knowing her character. he spent his money freely on her, but could not keep her from her associates. one night she insisted on leaving the house where they lodged. she had been drinking heavily, and he tried to detain her. she insisted on going to the lodgings of another man whom he knew; and when he endeavoured to persuade her to remain where she was, she made a comparison between him and the other that set him in a blind fury of rage and jealousy, in which he killed her. the cases present similar features: a tolerance of general infidelity; a jealousy of a particular individual; and an explosion when the other was praised for certain qualities. the same kind of thing has occurred with women. one day in the airing-yard of the prison a woman who was usually quiet in her behaviour made a sudden attack on another who had been admitted to prison on the preceding day. it transpired that the assailant had heard that the woman she assaulted was living with "her man." the man was a bloated blackguard whom she had screened by pleading guilty to a charge of theft in which he was implicated. she herself was a prostitute, and when i pointed out that morally he could not be worse than she in that respect she admitted the fact, but added furiously that she would not allow that--to take him from her; although she was ready enough to recognise his worthlessness. it would be easy to theorise on these cases, and it might be interesting; it is well to note them, for they show that crime may result from passion in circumstances where it might not be expected. the fact is that feelings the result of sex strike far deeper and wider than many good people care to acknowledge; but the whole subject is one on which a taboo is placed and it cannot be treated as frankly as it ought for that reason. the cause of jealousy and the excitement of the feeling is not so simple as many seem to think. it may be absent where there would appear to be the strongest ground for expecting its presence, and present under circumstances where it would not be looked for; and when present it may induce criminal acts on a provocation that would appear small indeed. there are fewer female than male criminals and offenders, but they are more likely than men to continue in the wrong way when they set out on it, for it is more difficult for them to recover. women are much harder on one another than they are on men; or than men are, either on their own sex or on women. this may be one reason why so few of them go astray, but it also contributes to keep the stray sheep from getting back to the fold. the girl is more closely guarded at home and is more intimately associated with her mother than the boy is. even mothers who have gone to the bad do not always want their daughters to follow their example; and i have known those who lived by vice and crime who have sent their daughters away from them in order to be trained in religion and morals. most of them cannot do that, but many do what they can, up to a point, to keep them straight. a girl suffers more than a boy from the neglect of a mother, and when to neglect is added bad example it may have a fatal effect on her. in proportion to their numbers there are more daughters than sons of criminal mothers who take to evil courses. apart from the mother, there are districts of the city where girls hear language and see sights that are not likely to have a good effect on them. the girl is taught to repress herself more than the boy and is trained towards secretiveness. the boy is rather given to flaunt his new-found naughtiness and to be checked for it or to discover of how little account it is. the girl may nurse it to her harm. it is a mistake to suppose that because a man or woman never uses objectionable language, or repeats objectionable stories, they have not left an impression when heard. as a matter of fact, the female side of any lunatic asylum is generally more remarkable than the male side for the foulness of the language of the inmates and the filthiness of their ideas. among the sane members of the community the opposite is notoriously the case, but the insane are only repeating words that have lodged in their mind when they were sane. the same thing is true of female offenders; they outdo the men in the profanity and indecency of their language, when they begin. when as a result of their surroundings young girls take to imitating their elders in vice they are much more dangerous than boys. every surgeon in a great city, if he is connected with the administration of the law, knows that very young girls are sometimes made the subjects of horrible assaults; but he also knows that other girls as young incite and provoke assaults, and that some among them make the most terrible and detailed charges against men on no foundation whatever but that of their own imagination excited by what they have seen. when men are guilty of certain offences under the criminal law amendment act there can be no defence of their conduct; they have no excuse for taking advantage of young girls; but it is sheer folly to ignore the fact that there are girls of school age in some parts of the city who deliberately importune men. it is terrible that it should be so, but they are only doing what they see their elders do and there is no use disregarding the fact. if the street is a bad playground for the boy it is worse for the girl. she runs greater risks and her ignorance is as vast as his. when she goes to work new perils beset her. her choice of occupation is more restricted, and her wages, though they may not be less in the first instance, do not increase in the same ratio as she grows to youth and womanhood. whatever may be said for the higher education of women it is out of reach of the many. most girls have the idea that some day they will be married; and they are often right. when this idea is present it is bound to affect their actions. marriage means for a man the holding on to his work; for a woman it implies the giving up of her employment--at any rate, in scotland most men who marry try to keep their wives at home. among the poorer labourers this is not always possible; but it remains true that the great majority of married women are not industrially employed. they have quite enough to do at home, and sometimes more than enough; but the fact that the home is to be their permanent sphere of work, or the hope of this, makes many girls and women careless as to the choice of their occupation meanwhile. it also prevents combination among workers, to a large extent, and tends to keep wages low. how some of them live on their earnings is a mystery, but they do; and keep themselves in a condition of health and fitness which will compare favourably with that of many of the scientific people who prove by figures and standards that they don't. there is grave risk in it, however; risk that they should not be asked to run. if they were not members of a family, each contributing earnings to a common pool, and each undertaking a share of the household work, many could not exist on the wages they receive. that any large number of them are directly driven to the street by the low rate of their wages is not, in my experience, true. complaints have been made that the children of well-to-do people accept lower wages and make it hard for those who have to earn their living to obtain reasonable pay. this may be true in a few cases, but it is not of general application. these people do not compete at all in many occupations; their parents are not foolish enough to let them do much for nothing; but they do sometimes exercise an injurious influence on the other girls by their presence. girls are at least as vain of their appearance as lads, and they are quite as much given to personal adornment. indeed, i think men will readily admit that women pay more attention to their dress and are keener on ornaments than they are. certainly when one gets a new kind of hat-pin or "charm," others must obtain something to balance it. if a girl has a fund to draw upon apart from her earnings she is likely to dress more expensively than her neighbours, and the weaker sisters are sometimes tempted to adopt extraordinary measures to keep pace with her. in so far as a standard of dress is set up that is beyond the earning power of the workers to maintain, girls who have other resources than their wages are liable to exercise an injurious effect on their fellow-workers. x was a young woman of prepossessing appearance and good manner. she had been employed in a place of business in town. her wages were small, and she had charge of cash transactions to a considerable amount. she was quietly and well dressed. she was arrested on a charge of embezzlement and she admitted her guilt. she confessed that she had begun to take small sums in order to keep herself "respectable," and her peculations not being discovered, she had continued to help herself. there was sickness at home, and to relieve the pressure there she had taken larger sums and been found out. in the course of enquiries i found that there were other employees none of whom had her opportunities of taking from the cash-box, but some of whom dressed themselves on "presents" from gentlemen. there was room for suspicion that each knew what the others had been doing. it was certain that they knew that their earnings were insufficient to enable them to live and dress as they did, and it was equally clear that in their cases they had no resources at home to supplement their earnings. there are some workshops in which the moral tone is very low, and the association of young girls together in them has a bad effect on their conduct. the ignorance of many men and women with regard to the most elementary physical facts is remarkable. mysteries are made of physiology, as though innocence and ignorance were synonymous terms. fear takes the place of enlightenment, and when a girl is seen to transgress the limits of conduct laid down for her without the dreadful consequences they have been led to expect, the others are apt to think they have been misled; and some of them embark lightly on a certain course of conduct with a confidence begotten of ignorance as great as that which once made them timid. young people are better to learn the truth about themselves from those they respect and trust, than to be kept in ignorance till some chance reveals a distorted version to them. x was a man of the labouring class who was charged with contravention of the criminal law amendment act. he had been a very hard-working man, and for years had lived on little and saved the greater part of his earnings. then, as systematically as he had put the money past, he started to get rid of it. he had nearly £ , and he proceeded to spend about £ a week on his "spree." he drew the money from the bank in small sums, and, doing no work meanwhile, he proceeded to take enough drink to keep him on the right side of drunkenness. this had been going on for over six months before his arrest. early in the course of his wanderings he had made the acquaintance of two girls who were employed in a tailoring establishment in the city. they spoke to him and made him certain proposals. this was in the dinner-hour. in time he was introduced by one girl to another during the succeeding four months, till he had dealings with seven in the same establishment--that is to say, seven admitted the facts. their ages ran from fifteen to nineteen years, and without exception they were all the daughters of respectable parents, to whom the story of their conduct came as a severe shock. that story will not bear repetition; it was exceedingly gross. the facts were only discovered in an accidental way through the illness of one of the girls. she at first denied everything; but under pressure made a confession of part of the truth, and, the charge being laid, enquiry elicited the rest. a large number of girls are still employed in domestic service, though the tendency has been for them to seek industrial work, where they are for some part of the day their own mistresses. the spread of elementary education has been blamed for the shortage in the supply of servants, but it is only one of many causes for the change from the time when there were more girls seeking work than places for them; and girls are not likely to seek service as a result of the railings of those who, to judge by their utterances, are in need of some elementary education with regard to their own position. there seems to be an idea fixed in their heads that they have a right to be served by others, and that on their own terms. if the schools have taught the girls that they are not born to do for others what they ought to be able to do for themselves, it is something to the credit of the schools. domestic servants have been too long treated as though they were inferior beings, with the natural result that their work has come to be looked upon as lower in character than that of the factory or the office girl. a greater independence of spirit and behaviour is permitted in those engaged in industrial occupations than in domestics, and this has a good deal to do with the preference shown for these pursuits. domestic service is a better preparation for married life than work in a factory, but in spite of this it has very serious disadvantages. it presents the form of family life without the spirit. in a great many cases it has all the disadvantages and few of the advantages. those who are loudest in their complaints of the degeneration of servants show quite clearly that they are angry really because they no longer get girls to give not only reasonable service, but the obedience of flunkeys. girls in workshops are not treated as domestics are; they would not stand it. their wages may be lower, but at least they are not looked upon as beings of another creation than those placed over them. when people shun certain kinds of employment it is not generally because they are foolish, but because they believe that that kind of work is not worth having. the servant in the house is too much in the house. her mistress is quite ready to assume that she should know all that the girl is doing, but the confidence is expected to be all on the one side. for the mistress to interfere in the girl's affairs is to show a proper interest in her; but for the girl to return the compliment is impertinence. the girl is often subject to unsympathetic supervision; she is seldom allowed out to associate with those whose company she desires; her life is a monotonous and exacting one; and in many cases she has as few opportunities for seeing visitors as she has for visiting. that some should react unfavourably to these conditions is not surprising; and when they are out they may show the same tendency to friskiness displayed by that other domestic animal, the family dog. many of them have few friends near the place of their employment, and their work does not provide them with the same facilities for forming friendships as industrial employment does. if they do go astray the consequences are therefore more serious, because they are to a large extent thrown on their own resources, having few to whom they can appeal for help or advice. there are no workers who are more generally industrious, honest, and patient, and who are more harshly judged. only those who go wrong seem to attract attention; at least it is only they who are heard of; and in proportion to the large number employed they are few. their position away from their family leaves them more exposed to the attentions of those of the opposite sex than other girls, and when they succumb the consequences may be more serious. if their condition is suspected or discovered the extent to which they are considered members of the family soon becomes apparent. the girl who is in this state has no illusions on that subject. she knows quite well that she will receive no sympathy, and that would not matter so much if she were not equally certain that she will be turned out whenever the fact becomes known. she cannot face her people. she fears the scandal she will bring on them, and what she should do is a puzzle to her. what she tries to do is to conceal her condition as long as possible. she knows quite well that a time will come when it will unmistakably reveal itself, but anything may happen in the interval. she refuses to think about the future and lives in the present. the effort that should be expended in making preparations for the event is spent in concealing its approach; till some day she finds herself a mother. the habit of concealment has become a part of her, and it asserts itself in the state of pain and panic in which she finds herself, with disastrous results to the child. x was a girl about twenty years of age who came from a mining district to domestic service in glasgow. she was a healthy girl and a good servant. one day her mistress had reason to suspect that something had taken place in the house of which she had not been made aware; and a search revealed the dead body of a new-born child in an outhouse. the girl was arrested and sent to hospital. in due course she was transferred to prison, where i had to investigate the case with a view to determining her mental condition. she told me the story bit by bit quite clearly. when she became aware of her condition she took steps to hide it, and up to the end she had been successful in doing so. she did this in order to make up her mind what she ought to do. sometimes she decided to go home to her friends, and at other times she meant to apply to the parish. her health was good all the time. at last she made up her mind to go home, and had written stating her intention, but saying nothing about her condition or about staying there. the child was born the night before the day she had fixed for her visit. she was taken by surprise, and had no preparations made for its arrival. by her actions she showed that she knew what was necessary in order to attend both to child and mother. it cried out, and in her alarm she stopped its mouth. it did not cry again, and she next set about its concealment. she knew that she had killed it, but she did not think this murder. she would have thought it murder if it had not just been new-born. she had seen similar cases reported in the newspapers as "concealment of pregnancy" and not counted murder. as she had her day off to pay her visit she did so. she walked at least ten miles in doing this. she told her friends nothing. she hoped to be able to dispose of the body, but her mistress had found suspicious signs in her room, and on a search had discovered the child. she was curiously knowing in some respects, but her ignorance was as peculiar as her knowledge; and i had no reason to doubt the truth of her story, which stood such tests as could be applied to it. the case in its main features is quite characteristic. there are some mistresses who, when they find their servants in this condition, take steps to see that they are tended in some way. they cannot be expected to keep them in the house, but they do what can be done to prevent the mother and child suffering. there are others who simply turn them out and take no further interest in them; and it is the fear of this that leads to concealment. if they would even act as mediators between the girls and their people much mischief would be prevented. hardly ever does such a case as the above occur but what there are letters to the newspapers demanding that the father of the infant should be placed in the dock with the mother. the mother is not there for begetting a child, but for killing it, and the former act is not yet punishable by law. the general opinion seems to be that men are continually seducing women, and i am not in a position to say whether it is true or not. judging from books, it forms the subject of many stories, but i am here only writing of that small portion of the world which has come under my own observation, and in my experience it is grotesquely untrue. i have heard the woman's statement in the great majority of cases of infanticide in scotland during the last sixteen years, and i can recall few in which she made any complaint against the father of the child, although i sought for it. in some cases i was told that the father had not been informed of the woman's condition, although she knew where to find him; and that he had been kept in ignorance because she did not want to marry him. in the other cases the conception seemed to be the result of intimacy that was temporary and long past. i am far from suggesting that there are no bad men who lead girls astray; what i say is that in this class of case these are not the girls who appear as criminals. the fact is that among a certain class of lads and girls there is a degree of looseness of behaviour that is in striking contrast with the officially recognised code of morals. they take risks with a light heart, and the woman pays; not always because the man shirks, but because any consequence of their conduct is entailed on her by her sex. the girl knows this as well as the lad, but neither of them considers consequences at the time. an acquaintanceship begun innocently enough may insensibly and by degrees become something more, not as the result of consideration, but quite independent of anything in the way of thought. if consequences were certain it might be different. it is difficult to apportion blame and it is not very profitable to try; but it is quite certain that the woman leads the man as much as he leads her to misconduct. child murder is no necessary consequence of his act, and there is no sense in assuming that he knew the girl's condition and deserted her, when the fact can easily be ascertained. it would be a great mistake to suppose that girls who do not preserve their chastity are necessarily bad. it is largely a question of manners and customs. they would quite readily admit that it is wrong to be unchaste, as many an untruthful person will admit it is wrong to lie; but they do not seem to suffer in self-respect, nor greatly in the esteem of others, if they yield themselves to the lad who is their sweetheart for the time. their conduct may be suspected; but in the absence of proof, and if decency is observed, their morals are taken for granted. every professional man knows that there are very many different standards of conduct in glasgow. the doctor cannot shut his eyes to the fact if he would; the lawyer during the time he acts as agent for the poor sees and hears enough to convince him that the professed and the working standards of conduct are different; and even among those connected with their churches clergymen occasionally find some who have to get married as a result of their behaviour. the girls who misbehave in this way may be reviled as prostitutes, but that is utterly to fail in judging them. that they are no worse than the men goes without saying; but there cannot be a standard for the woman and another for the man, though in practice it is more frequently the moralists who try to make one--not by their words, but by the effect of their judgment. the same girl who has given herself to men is sometimes the most bitter in her denunciations of prostitutes; but on the subject of prostitution i do not propose to enter, for any real consideration of it would involve a plainness of speech on which it would be unsafe to venture. this must be said, however, that the woman who goes astray is treated shamefully by the law, which operates to drive her deeper in the mire and causes reformation to be more difficult for her than for any other kind of offender. any proposal to place these poor souls more completely under the domination of officials, medical or police (whether made on the specious pretext of public health or public morals), would intensify the difficulty, and would result, as it would deserve, in increasing the evil it sought to remedy. it is bad enough that any members of the community should become slaves to the vices of others, but it would be worse to confirm them in their slavery in order to protect those whom they serve. in proportion to the number of offences committed by women bigamy appears to be more common than it is among the male offenders. the reason is largely economic, but the method of its operation is dependent on sex. the woman wants a home, but if she were not a woman that is not the way she would choose to get one. she could get established, but her sense of propriety will not allow her to accept the position without the form of marriage, even although she knows the form to be illegal. in many cases, however, she does not know this. she may have ground for a divorce by reason of the desertion of her husband or his misconduct; but the ground for divorce and the ability to obtain one are different matters. if divorce is to be permitted there does not seem to be any reason why it should be refused to those who cannot afford to go to law to obtain it. if one of the parties to a marriage gives cause for divorce the need for it will be the greater in proportion to poverty, for people are less able to keep out of each other's way if they are living together in a small house than would be the case if they had more room; and if they are separated the economic disadvantages are not less. yet these are the very people who are least able to obtain relief; their poverty ensures that. when they go through the form of marriage with some other we pay the cost of their imprisonment. the money would be better employed in setting them free from the contract which has gone wrong. some of them voluntarily give themselves up in the belief that their imprisonment will break the former marriage. our judges have become more and more inclined to deal leniently with such cases; reserving their heavy sentences for those which show moral turpitude; and the number of these is small. to the woman there is something in the form of marriage which enables her to preserve her self-respect, and the "marriage lines" are a testimony to others. it is a queer condition of affairs, in their view, that allows them to live with a man if they do not go through a ceremony of marriage with him, and which sends them to prison if they do; for they cannot be expected to see that the rights of property may depend on the prohibition of conduct such as theirs. chapter vii punishment the universal cure-all--the public and the advertising healer--the essence of all quackery--the quackery of punishment--rational treatment--justice not bad temper--retribution--our fathers and ourselves--their methods not necessarily suitable to our time--capital punishment--the incurable and the incorrigible--objections to capital punishment apply in degree to all punishment--the "cat"--the executioner and the surgeon--whipping and its effect--the flogged offender--the act and the intention--pain and vitality--unequal effects of punishment--fines and their burden--who is punished most?--punishment and expiation--punishment and deterrence--social opinion the real deterrent--vicious social circles--respect for the law--prevention of crime. since newspapers have become great advertising mediums their readers have had information thrust upon them by picture and story regarding the need to flee from ills to come and seek refuge in the patent pill. health is the great thing to attend to, and there is a large number of people engaged in our instruction. some will have us see to the equal development of all our muscles, though what we are to do with them when they are developed we may not clearly apprehend. others prescribe for us all a proper course of diet, and though the professors differ among themselves as to what is the best food for mankind, they seem to be all agreed that there is a universal food. if we find their prescriptions do not suit us, that is an evidence of degeneracy on our part which must be overcome. it is all very like what has passed itself off as education. at school, if a boy showed an aptitude for drawing and none for composition, he was taken from the thing he could do and worried into doing the thing he was not fitted for doing, with the result that in many cases children left school able to do a number of things equally badly and few things well. the attempt to make people ambidextrous is more likely to make them left-handed in both hands. health is the greatest of blessings, but the man who is always concerned for his health is not the healthy man; time passes, and he may lose his life while he is preparing to live. he is encouraged to examine himself, and all the possible ailments which may annoy him are described and their significance exaggerated till he gets nervous. a specific is found for every ill to which the flesh is heir, and its efficacy is trumpeted till some equally infallible cure replaces it in public estimation. the saving remedy may be called a quack preparation, and its composition proclaimed and condemned by the regular practitioner, but a sufficient number of purchasers is found to justify the expense of advertising it. it is sure to benefit somebody, however antecedently improbable that effect may be, and there is certain to be some sufferer who will be grateful enough to testify to its cure. some of the testimonials may be spurious, but many of them are quite as genuine as any that the doctors receive. the reader sees that mrs. dash has suffered from pains in her back for years, and has tried the patience and the prescriptions of every doctor within her reach without obtaining any permanent relief. she has had to resign herself to a state of chronic invalidism, and is an object of pity to all who know her. she hears from a friend of the wonderful curative effects of the rational rheumatic regimen and puts herself under treatment, with the result that her neighbours cannot believe she is the same woman, and she herself feels in better health than she has ever before enjoyed. then follows a list of symptoms which is sure to appeal to some sufferer. the public, knowing all that can be urged against quack medicines, distrusts and purchases them. the buyer knows that the case of mrs. dash is not published for philanthropic but for business reasons, but he thinks that what cured her may help him. it may or it may not, but he risks it. even those who utterly condemn quack medicines fall quite readily into the error of quackery when they come to discuss social subjects; for the essence of quackery is the belief that what is good for one person must be good for every other. diseases are not entities, but conditions that cannot exist apart from the man; and similarly crime cannot exist apart from society. we may alter conditions in such a way that the tendency to disease or crime will be lessened; but when a person has become diseased we have to know something more about him than the fact that he shows certain symptoms before he can be treated in any rational way and with a prospect of his recovery. so when he has committed a crime we must know more than that fact before there is much hope of being able to correct him. there is as much quackery in the practice of making punishment fit crime as in that of making remedies fit diseases. when a man offends against the law he is taken in hand by the ministers of the law; and they are awakening to a sense of the futility of their treatment of him, but so far not much progress has been made towards a rational method. there are more institutions projected and a greater variety of remedies prescribed; but they depend on the nature of the crime charged, rather than on the character and condition of the culprit. some day it may be acknowledged that the court that has to determine whether a person is guilty of the offence charged against him is not therefore the court that is able to determine his treatment, but there will first require to be a more general recognition of the fact that before a man can be treated rationally for any physical, mental, moral, or social fault in him, something more must be known about him than that the fault is there. i do not suggest that rational treatment will invariably be successful; there is nothing absolute in this world, not even our ignorance; but i do assert that we are not entitled to act irrationally in dealing with criminals, and that that is what we generally do at present. the practice of the courts has changed much more than the law during the last sixteen years, and there is a greater disposition on the part of judges to seek information regarding those who are brought before them, as well as a more marked reluctance to send offenders to prison if there appears to be a probability that they will not repeat their offence. the old theories of punishment have broken down, and it is now difficult to find any coherent theory behind the practice. when a crime is committed that shocks the public by its atrocity there are demands made for fierce retribution on the culprit, partly on the plea that he ought to be made to suffer, and partly for the purpose of deterring others from repeating the act. incidentally those who are most insistent on the employment of the executioner show that they possess a fair share of the same spirit that educed the act which they condemn. they are rightly indignant, but they do not seem to see that justice and bad temper are not the same thing. few would defend the application literally of the retributive "eye-for-an-eye" principle. they know that a man's eye may not be of as much use to him as that which he has destroyed may have been to his victim. it may be like taking gold and offering lead in exchange. even if the eyes be equal in value it does not in the slightest degree compensate the injured person to know that the person who did him the injury is as blind as he; and as for the community, it is to place two blind men where one was before. of course nobody has proposed to deal in this manner with the person who blinds another; but many are quite satisfied to act on the principle, and to apply it by way of killing murderers and flogging those who commit assaults. the law has prohibited certain actions as below the standard of conduct permitted to the members of the community. when a man takes life, in order to show him the sacredness of life, it takes his. it is a lesson to him; and there is this to be said for it, that it prevents him from offending again. we all know how much we are the superiors of the poor foreigners in our manners and our powers, for in spite of our modesty, our teachers in the press are always insisting on the fact, and truth compels us to admit it. yet these same teachers sometimes confuse us not a little by their methods of defending us when we are charged with doing something which we cannot deny having done. some necessary severity in war, or some strong actions on the part of those who in our name teach the native races how to live, may have provoked remark on the part of other nations. at once we hear that they have done similar things; but if we are better than they, surely we must prove it by our actions? if we are better than those whom we judge and condemn, why do we treat them as they have treated others? to hire a man to kill another is a queer way to teach men to respect life. that our fathers did it is true, and we have taken over the practice from them. i do not think it probable that our fathers were any greater fools than we are, but their circumstances were different; not to speak of the fact that we have had handed on to us by them an accumulation of experience in civil life which they had not time to absorb. we may be no better than they were, but they have not failed to contribute to make us better off, and their ways of doing things are not suitable to the altered circumstances in which we find ourselves. they were more worried by their fighting men than we are, and were always liable to be assailed by some lord or other whose honourable occupation was arms and who was industrious in the pursuit of it. he or somebody like him professed to protect the worker and ensure him the fruits of his labour--less discount. the fighting man has always made this profession; but he never protects the worker from the worker; he protects the worker from some other warrior who may be a greater nuisance--or may not. now he is under the direction of the law, and is not allowed to make war on his own account. the survivals that do are criminals. in the good old days the governor was often busily engaged and had no time to bother with offenders. the pit or the gallows were for them, unless they could be depended on to refrain from troubling him and pay him for letting them work. part of the time he was himself a prisoner in his castle--and a not very sanitary or comfortable prison it was--and at other times he was acting as warder over some other lord whom he had besieged. the easiest way to deal with unruly persons was to hang them to a tree and leave them there; they deserved it, and even if they did not, they might do so; in any case they were a good riddance. now we are more settled and less summary in our dealings with each other. we have long ceased to employ the hangman except in cases of murder, and even then the penalty is seldom inflicted in scotland; for it is repugnant to the feelings of most juries, and they only call killing "murder" when their feelings of indignation get the upper hand. i am far from saying that no case can now be made out for capital punishment; what i am contending is that it is the outstanding example of the application of the retributory principle; and yet in practice it is usually defended on the ground that the culprit is so bad that he ought to be killed--another ground altogether. "what could you do with a man who would do that?" is the question addressed to those who assert that the worst use to which you can put a man is to kill him. well, is he so bad as all that? i have seen a number of very tough specimens under sentence of death, and have watched the effect on warders of intimate association with them. they have had to be constantly in the company of the condemned, for although he has to be killed he must be given no opportunity to kill himself; and in almost every case the men had only one opinion after getting closely in touch with the criminal, and that opinion was that, in spite of all the evil in him, he was not such a bad creature after all. in some cases the opinion of his character was much more favourable; but in all cases the opinions were the result of seeing the man when he was under the sentence of the law. that is as true an observation as that the sentence was the result of conduct when he was running wild. it was the same man who had done the wicked act who impressed men favourably, though their official bias was against him; and he could not have done so if the qualities had not been in him. there may be men among us who are so utterly bad that all the state can do with them is to kill them in order to secure the safety of others, but i have not seen them. there are men so riddled with disease that no cure for them can be held out, and the disease may be of such a character that it is likely to infect or affect injuriously those who attend them, but doctors are not permitted to kill them. in these cases as strong an argument could be adduced in favour of capital punishment as in the case of criminals; and there are those who advocate the lethal chamber for certain classes of the diseased and "unfit." in every case the advocates of the proposal should be the first to go there, for their very advocacy shows that they are themselves unfit to take a sufficiently wide view of the good of the state. we know too little of the possibilities of life to be justified in condemning anyone to death. the medical man speaks of some diseases as being incurable; but so far from meaning what he says literally, his whole life is spent in seeking for cures. knowledge widens slowly, and false lights are hailed as true, but in spite of all set-backs there is progress; and to-day the diseased conditions that our fathers could not deal with may be relieved and in many cases cured. what the doctor really means is that there are many diseases for which he has not yet found the appropriate remedy; and when we speak of men as being incorrigible we are only entitled to use the word in the same limited way, meaning that we have so far not been able to correct them. the infliction of the death penalty has no good effect on those engaged in it. i have never seen anyone who had anything to do with it that was not the worse for it. as for the doctor, who must be in attendance, it is an outrage on all his professional, as well as his personal feelings. the physician is taught that it is his duty to save life, apart altogether from its personal value. when he is called in to a patient it is no affair of his whether the sick person is a saint or a sinner; it is his duty to do his best for the patient irrespective of any question of character, and to risk infection as readily for the sake of the wicked as for the sake of the good. at the behest of the law he has to take a part in the killing of a man whom he has been instructed to attend in order that at the proper time he may be led to death in a state of good health. i do not say that there are not men who may seem so debased and vile that any reformation would appear to be only remotely possible; but while they are to be blamed for their wickedness, we are not free from blame for permitting them to grow into such a state before taking them in hand. in no case that i have seen was such interference impossible had our system been one that lent itself to the prevention of crime and the reformation of the criminal; but because it was easier and more profitable for them to do ill than to do well, they went the wrong road with disastrous results to others as well as to themselves. blame them by all means; but let us be just, and having settled how much they are to blame--not a very profitable task--let us set about to find how far we are to blame; having punished them, what about punishing ourselves? our punishment is fixed by laws that no parliament can alter; our own neglect of the wrongdoer ensures it. the objections to capital punishment apply to all punishment up to a point, for if it is wrong to slay a man it is also wrong to maim him; and in so far as our conduct towards him makes him a less efficient member of the community it does maim him. there are many who are so indignant with the law-breaker that they have no patience with anybody who has doubts as to whether our way of dealing with him is all that could be desired. they object to his being pampered--whatever that means--and call everybody a sentimentalist who is not for "vigorous means of repression." there is a sentiment of brutality that is quite as dangerous as any sentiment of pity, and a great deal more harmful; but pity for the criminal need have very little part in consideration for his reform. he may be, and often is, far from being an estimable or attractive person, and the last thing he needs is pity. a man may be a good physician or surgeon without being given to anything approaching sentiment that is maudlin; but whether he is full of pity or not he must be sympathetic--that is to say, he must be able to appreciate the standpoint of those with whom he is dealing. so must the man who would deal with offenders; if he fails in that he fails in everything. it may be all very well to describe some of them as brutes and to say they should be treated as brutes, but it does not help forward the matter of treatment in the slightest degree; for even brutes cannot all be treated alike, and if a man is treated as a brute it is not likely to result in making him behave like a man. "the only way to make a man is--think him one, j. b., as well as you or me." the cat is a specific for the "brutes" that have not qualified for the "rope." the argument seems to be that because a man has committed a brutal crime therefore he is a brute; as he has inflicted serious bodily injury on a fellow-citizen it is proper that someone should be employed to inflict serious bodily injury on him. but will the man whom you employ to do this laudable work not be a brute also? does your official imprimatur remove the brutality of his act? if not, one result would seem to be that at the end you have two brutes among you instead of one. there has never been any pretence that the executioner's occupation is not a degrading one; never in all this country for very many years, at any rate. he is not looked down upon because by his office he inflicts pain. the surgeon in the course of his work inflicts pain, but nobody considers him any the less worthy on that account. a hand might be cut off by either of them in the discharge of his duty; but though the result may be the same to the owner of the hand, the object has been different. the surgeon has amputated the hand to save the man's life; the executioner has cut it off to maim the man. there can be no objection to the infliction of pain on a criminal more than on others if it is incident on a course of treatment which there is good reason to believe will result in his reform; but there is no such reason for belief in the efficacy of flogging. i do not say that nobody has been the better for a whipping. there are many men who are ordinarily as modest as those of our race usually are, and who say that they were well whipped in their boyhood with great benefit. it might be unsafe to suggest that the argument is not so convincing as it may seem to those who advance it. sometimes there is a temptation to think that the treatment, if it were really so efficacious in making them virtuous, might with profit have been continued; but there can be no doubt they are firmly convinced that without the thrashings they received they would have been worse than they are. this hardly touches the point, for it is one thing to be whipped by an official who has no interest in the person whipped, and another thing altogether to be chastised by a parent or guardian, or even at his instance. the effect on the integuments may be the same in both cases, but there is a psychological effect which is different. children know that wrongdoing on their part is sometimes the occasion and the excuse for an exhibition of temper on the part of their parents; and they take their punishment with the best grace they can and keep out of the way next time they misbehave. a whipping in cold blood they do not take in the same spirit; and they are right. the great objection to any arbitrary punishment is that it may do far more harm than good. suppose a child is disobedient and obstinate, and the father proceeds to whip it into obedience. if he succeeds the child may, through fear, avoid such conduct in the future; but if the child persists in his obstinacy in spite of the whipping, and gets into that dumb dour state in which he is likely to go off in a fit if the whipping is persisted in, the shoe is on the other foot. the father has to desist through fear, the child having met force with passive resistance is the master, and he retains the impression of his parent's brutality and impotence. it is never wise in the case of children, or of men, to embark on a course of treatment that you cannot continue till your object is gained. there may have been some reason in flogging men with the object of ruling them by fear, but the policy would depend on the thoroughness with which it was carried out for what success it could obtain. there would always be the risk that the penalty would make men more ferocious if it were the probable result of their misconduct, for if fear may prevent people from doing the ill they desire, it will also cause them to seek safety by attempting to destroy the evidence of their wrongdoing. make death the penalty for robbery, and a direct inducement is offered to the robber to kill his victim and prevent him from telling tales. flog men for breaches of the law, and if they fear the pain they will the more readily become reckless, on the principle of its being as well to be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. that there is a strong feeling on the part of the public against flogging is undeniable, and it is not so much the result of reasoning as of sentiment. the process shocks their sense of propriety. the mass of men not only shrink from suffering pain, but they shrink from the suffering of others, and they are less inclined than they once were to believe in its efficacy as a remedial agent. the man who in a former day would have been flogged and set to work is now sent to hospital if the whip has scored his flesh. a surgeon stands by to see that his vitality is not lowered beyond a certain point in the execution of the sentence; it is a nice occupation for him to superintend the impairment of a man's health, but as a compensation the rogue may become a patient and the doctor have the privilege of healing any wounds made under his supervision. the patient is now in a position to do any mischief he chooses; you have done your utmost with him and are not permitted to kill him. if as rigid an enquiry were made into the causes of men's wrongdoing as is made into the question of their personal guilt there would be less occasion for punishment as we have had it. boys are still whipped for some offences and in certain cases. to say that it is better to whip a boy than to send him to prison, is only to admit that whipping is the less serious of the two methods of injuring him; and in some cases the boys are whipped for no other reason. there is a well-founded reluctance to sentence them to detention in any existing institution, combined with a belief in the necessity of inflicting some penalty on them for their misdeeds. the boy has done wrong and he must pay for it. the world is so constituted that we are all the children of our acts; payment may be delayed, but it must be made sometime if every deed carries its penalty with it; but such a belief is quite consistent with scepticism as to the necessity for the legal penalties on which so many place importance. indeed, that they also carry their consequences is seen of all men, and there is no manner of doubt that those on whom they fall are made worse citizens by them. that might be a small matter if their degeneration did not injuriously affect the community of which they are unworthy members, but in hurting them we are hurting ourselves. it is not so much what we do as the spirit in which it is done that causes the mischief. a person who is sick and in bed may be as much a prisoner as a man in a cell. his doctor may prevent him from seeing visitors and may sentence him to a period of something very like solitary confinement, but he knows that this is done with no intention of hurting him, but because it is necessary in the interest of his health, or that of others. the prisoner has no such opinion as to the purpose of his imprisonment, and neither have those who carry it out. he may be the better for it, though that is exceptional, but discomfort and pain is an essential part of whatever cure there is. i remember when a student a worthy old practitioner who made a point of choosing the most painful remedies for persons suffering from certain diseases, as he held the opinion that they ought to be made to suffer for their misconduct. he certainly made them suffer, but as they were not compelled to attend him they chose others who cured them more rapidly and with less pain. it is now generally recognised that pain, or anything that lowers vitality, operates injuriously and retards the recovery of patients; and every means is taken to prevent suffering, not because it makes the patient feel bad, but because it causes him to be bad. suppose a surgeon said to a man who appeared before him with a scalp wound received through falling on the kerb while under the influence of drink, "you have been foolish and wicked, since you have made yourself intoxicated and lost control of your senses. your head is wounded, and it is only a chance that you have not been killed. you have disgraced yourself in the eyes of those among your friends who have any sense of respectability, and you have run the risk of losing your employment as the result of your intemperance. this i cannot permit to pass unpunished. an example must be made of you in order to deter others from following the same pernicious course. you have forfeited the right to consideration, but, though you must be made to remember that such conduct as yours cannot be lightly passed over, i shall deal with you as leniently as possible for the sake of your wife and family. you will receive an application of germs to your wound which will produce erysipelas, after which i shall proceed to deal with your cure." the doctor who tried this method would be sent to a lunatic asylum; but it is precisely what is done in our courts. the prisoner is told he is bad--and he is; then he is sent--to be made better? not at all. whatever may be said against the prisons, it cannot be shown that they ever were designed to reform those sent to them, and if they fail to do so they do not therefore fail in the purpose for which they were built, which is to detain and punish criminals. the extent to which they do punish varies greatly according to the antecedents of the person who is sent to them. on the clerk and the labourer who have received the same sentence its physical effect may differ very much. if both are put to do labouring work, as they very well may be, at the end of the day the man who is accustomed to it will be less hurt and fatigued than the man who has been used to other employment. if the object is to make them all alike uncomfortable the clerk should be set to dig a trench and the labourer to write, and at the end of the day the one would be stained with ink and the hands of the other would be stinging or blistered. as it is the work done by the labourer is child's play to him, but it is toilsome to the man whose occupation is sedentary; to the public it is not of much utility in any case. a common method of punishing offenders is to impose fines upon them, so that if a man has money he may commit any of a large number of offences without any risk of imprisonment. it may even be profitable for him to do so, for the fines for doing some illegal acts by which money can be made are in some cases less than the profits to be made by transgressing the law. it is a queer condition of affairs. the principle of restitution is one that can be readily understood and approved, but fines are not an attempt to apply such a principle. they go, not to any person who may have been injured, but to the local exchequer for the most part. this is a vicious arrangement, for it is an incitement to the local authorities to make as much as they can off the offenders in their district; and whether they are ever moved by it or not, it is not proper that they should have any interest in filling their coffers by such means. fines fall very unequally as a burden on those subjected to them. the amount inflicted, though small, may be out of all proportion to the offender's means; half-a-crown is not much, but it is a great deal to the man who has not got it. before the same court you may have two men charged with similar offences. one is a motorist who has exceeded the speed limit; the other is a driver of a light van who in trying to catch a train has been reckless in his driving. the motorist may be fined in five times the amount inflicted on the vanman, but to the one the sum only represents a small inroad on his means, while to the other it represents something like a week's wages. there is not one law for the rich and another for the poor; if there were they might not be so unequally treated. there is the same law for both; but in its effect it favours the rich at the expense of the poor, and that is not to the ultimate advantage of the community. the fine is an alternative to imprisonment, and in practice it is a peculiarly striking example of our whole system of punishment. the magistrate on behalf of the public says to the offender, in effect, "you have transgressed the laws of the state in which you live and must therefore be punished. i do not wish to be too hard on you, but you must either pay us five shillings or we shall keep you for three days." now as people cannot be kept in prison without cost being thereby incurred, the effect of the sentence is that if the offender does not pay to the police five shillings on his own account the taxpayer pays the prison five shillings. the culprit is injured by being sent to prison; but the public is also injured by having to pay. it is remarkably like the operation known as cutting off the nose to spite the face. this is indeed the effect of most of our punishments; they injure others besides the criminal, and there is room for grave doubt as to whether they benefit anybody. once the punishment has been undergone, the offender is supposed to have expiated his offence; but as there is no positive expiation for past wrongdoing, except it may be future welldoing, this is a fiction. it is not a wise thing to teach the ignorant that they can pay for any harm they do; least of all to teach them that they atone by imprisonment for injuries inflicted on others. it is no compensation to a man who has been hurt to know that his assailant is being lodged and fed at his expense, and that some day he will come out no better than when he went into his place of retreat. when a man is disabled by injuries he has received his family is likely to suffer, and if he be a working man they may be in peril of becoming destitute. his assailant is shut up, and his family too may suffer in a similar way and to an equal degree. the law will see that the offender is taken care of, but the injured person and the families of both the parties are left to struggle as best they may. what harm have they done? they are neglected, and may suffer hunger unless they also do harm, while the offender is "expiating" his offence at the public expense. in so far as punishment is retributive it is foolish and indefensible, harming not only those on whom it is inflicted, but those who inflict it. if as individuals we are not justified in fostering a spirit of revenge, we are as little entitled to encourage such a spirit in our corporate capacity. their actions show that some men are capable of doing very wicked things, and that is a very good reason for interfering with them; but it is no reason for interfering in such a way that we are all burdened by it, while there is no reasonable expectation that they are being brought to a better frame of mind. until late in the last century the crown prosecutor craved for punishment on those who had committed indictable offences "in order to deter others from committing the like offence in all time coming." that form has been dropped, but the theory is still widely held that punishment deters others than those convicted. the prison returns show that there is no reason for claiming that it deters many of those who have been punished from repeating their offensive conduct. the "others" in some numbers are always recruiting the ranks of those who habitually transgress, but the great majority of our fellow-citizens keep out of prison. are we to believe that this is because the punishment of the prisoners sent there has deterred them from committing offences? it may be the reason; but it cannot be proved even if it is. for my own part, i have never seen any cause to believe that my acquaintances and friends refrain from beating their wives and from taking what is not their own because if they did these things they might be sent to jail; and i have observed that those who theorise most about the conduct of others and its causes, are frequently quite unable to advance any evidence from their own observations and experience that would support their theories. there can be no doubt that the dignified jurists who adopt mansfield's view (that a man should be hanged not because he had stolen a horse, but in order that others might not steal horses) would resent the suggestion that they themselves are honest simply from the fear of the law, and it would show less conceit of themselves and more knowledge of their neighbours if they assumed that the mass of their fellow-citizens are no worse than they. in my day at school some boys were unmercifully whacked, when the master got into a temper as a result of their iniquity. the theory was that this discouraged others from committing the same offences; but as boys are as often punished for the stupidity of themselves or the teacher as for any wilful misconduct on their part, the theory was not in accord with the practice. when some unfortunate culprit was called up, the feelings of the rest of us were of a mixed nature. partly we were sorry for him, but the degree was dependent on our personal regard for him; partly there was a feeling of contempt for him in so far as he was imprudent enough to let himself be caught; partly there was some curiosity as to how he would demean himself; and mainly there was thankfulness that we were not in his shoes. the punishment did not deter any of us from doing the same thing; but it did make us more careful in the doing of it, and it gave some a training in duplicity that appears to have been of use to them in their business careers. in so far as the teacher was considered to be a tyrant it was rather a feather in a boy's cap than otherwise if he could disobey, especially if he escaped. even if he were caught it was not considered a disgrace, and if he were severely punished the clumsiness he had shown in playing his pranks was overlooked and he was treated with the respect due to a martyr. it was a small matter to break the master's rules, though nobody cared to be caught; but it was a serious thing for a boy to outrage the standard of conduct which was adopted by his neighbours. the teacher who knew this could command obedience so long as he worked on the knowledge; and it is the same with men as with boys. they react most powerfully to the opinion of the circle in which they move; if it were not so they would soon cease to be members of it. who sets the standard it is usually impossible to say; but each influences the other, although one personality may be more dominant than any other. he is the bad one when there is a bad one; not because he is worse morally than others, but because he is usually more daring and active; and as the commandments by which boys are ruled are mainly negative, his positive personality brings him into conflict with them and leads others after him. but there are social circles in our midst where men are placed in the same relation to the law as boys were at school. they are told to respect it, and they know they must obey it at their peril; but it appears to them as a series of senseless and unjust prohibitions which interferes with their comfort and does not offer them any protection against their enemies. they do not need policemen to protect their property, for they have none to protect; and they feel quite able to look after their personal safety. what they would appreciate would be protection from what they consider the exactions of the factor and the tax-collector, and there are no police of that sort yet. they have no respect for the law any more than i have respect for a steam-engine, though i keep out of its way. if the law is something that protects other people from them, but does not protect them from other people, they cannot be expected to hold it in much respect; they may look on it as their enemy. many do not go so far, though they distrust it and its ministers; but there are coteries, groups, who do regard the law as something that it is praiseworthy to break. i am not now referring to a man who makes a living by theft, but to the young people who are brought up in certain slum districts and who there contract inverted ideas of morality. granted the existence of such circles, it is easy to see how defiance of the law may get a young man the admiration of his fellows; and as there are parts of the city where homage is rendered to him who has most frequently and cleverly outraged the law by stealing, or by tricking its representatives--where so far from honesty being esteemed a virtue it is sneered at; where chastity is at a discount, and the thief, rake, and bully is the ideal character--there is no reason for any wonder that in the face of punishments there is no lack of offenders. these people see no reason to respect our rules of conduct. our punishments may exercise a deterrent effect on them to the extent of causing them to modify their methods of operation, but the bogey we fix up for their warning will not make them virtuous or cause them to alter the standards they have set up. punishment does not deter the great mass of our fellow-citizens from committing crimes. they are law-abiding because they have no inclination to break the law and no inducement to do so. let it press on them and we may hear another story. i am old enough to remember when in it was proposed to give home rule to ireland; we had then professors and eminent citizens threatening to take up arms rather than allow the proposal to be carried. they were genuinely alarmed for the safety of their friends, and their respect for the law took a back seat for the time. it is an easy matter for many of us to stand by the laws, for we have not felt their pinch. that may be a reason why there is always such a difficulty in changing them, and why almost any change is supported by the poorer classes. certain it is that even among the honest and welldoing poor there is a suspicion of the law and a reluctance to have anything to do with it. those who are definitely at war with it and those who may be tempted to join them, are the only persons whom we may reasonably hope to deter from the commission of certain offences by our arbitrary punishment of those whom we catch; and even in their case there is no ground for the belief that the deterrent effect is such as to cause them to mend their way of living, but only to modify their methods. the real deterrent is social opinion, and when one of them comes out of jail it is quite evident that his imprisonment has not caused him to sink to the smallest extent in the estimation of those whose good opinion he values. serious crime has steadily declined in glasgow as the nests of the criminals have been torn down. they are much less potent for evil when separated from each other than when herded together; but now and then there is a recrudescence of brutality and violence followed by demands for more severe treatment of those who are captured. in france, lately, the guillotine has been brought forth again with the object of frightening the bandits. i know nothing about conditions there; but it is quite evident that here we might have such a demand resulting from an outbreak of crime, caused not by leniency of treatment of prisoners, not caused indeed by the way in which any part of our penal system acts, but due to the impunity with which the sharpers and criminals in our midst are allowed to practise. so long as there is no provision whereby a man can obtain opportunity for honest work with a guarantee that the fruits of his labour will not be taken from him, there will be many unemployed. most of them are quite well-disposed persons, but some of them are not. we cannot deal properly with the shirkers and sharpers till we have separated off the merely unfortunate. when we have seen that men have opportunity to support themselves we shall be fairly entitled to question the person who has no visible honest means of subsistence as to how he is obtaining his living; and, failing satisfaction, to deal with him. meantime they are mixed up with the honest and law-abiding but unfortunate citizens, to the aggravation of the misery that honesty and poverty combined have brought on them. let them combine and act together and there is no saying how far they may go; not because our prisons are too comfortable; not because of anything that does or does not take place there; but because our cities are not properly managed; because we have permitted the aggregation of people under conditions that have been favourable to the growth of an anti-social sentiment; because we have bred the monster that strikes fear into us. the treatment of the criminal may be wise, or it may be as foolish as i think it; but you might as well blame the method of treating a typhus case in hospital for the spread of that disease in an insanitary area, as blame the leniency of the courts for any outbreak of crime you may have in the areas which are known to be infested with criminals. all the elements are there for such an outbreak, and if it occurs it will be because we have permitted them to combine. how far we are justified in making one person the scapegoat for the sins of another, even if we could do it, is a matter for discussion by those who are concerned with such problems. for my own part, i do not think it fair to make an example of anybody, as it is called, and i do not believe that it serves any good purpose that could not be better attained by more rational means. part iii the treatment of the criminal chapter i the machinery of the law the police and their duties--divided control--need for knowledge of local peculiarities--the fear of "corruption"--the police cell-- cleanliness and discomfort--insufficient provision of diet, etc.--the casualty surgeon--the police court--the untrained magistrate--the assessor--pleas of "guilty"--case--apathy of the public--agents for the poor--the prison van--the sheriff court--the procurator-fiscal-- procedure in the higher courts--the scottish jury. to the majority of people the living representative of the law is the policeman. it is his duty to protect the citizens from evil-doers, and to arrest offenders. he is the subject of a good deal of chaff, but his position is generally respected; and although men get into the force who by temper and experience are quite unsuited for their work, the great majority discharge the duties laid upon them in a manner that is surprisingly satisfactory, when the demands made upon them are taken into account. they are supposed to have a knowledge of the law, and for practical purposes they must know something of medicine in order that they may give first aid to the injured; they are expected to be able to answer questions of an exceedingly miscellaneous nature when asked by the passing stranger; and they require to be always cool and clear-headed, to be ready for any emergency, and to have a temper that nothing can ruffle. if they have enough of these desirable qualifications to satisfy the authorities they may receive a salary for their services rather better than that given to the unskilled labourer. that efforts are made to obtain good men for the post is undeniable. that these efforts are always so enlightened or so successful as they might be is not so certain. in glasgow, for instance, a standard of height is set up which excludes the vast majority of glasgow-bred men from this occupation. in some parts of the country men go to flesh and bone, and they are big-framed and brawny; but this is not the case in the town. yet a man's height offers no presumption of his fitness for any position involving the exercise of judgment. a minimum ft. in. includes all the ft. in. and ft. in. men; and a minimum ft. in. excludes all these and limits the choice of candidates very much. it is not the best men to act as guardians to the public peace that are sought, but the best men amongst those of a certain height; and this is bound to lower the standard of efficiency. indeed, the higher the standard of height the lower the standard of efficiency will tend to become, because of the limitation of choice implied. the police force is a civil force and ought to be entirely under the control of the citizens through their representatives, but this civil force is not formed on any conception of civic needs. it is organised on a military model, and subject to inspection by a military man on whose reports to the secretary of state its efficiency is decided. nobody seems to think of asking what such an inspector knows of the needs of the district whose police he inspects. his training enables him to tell when a man carries himself well and turns out his toes nicely, and the ability of the police to do so is aided by their going to inspection in new uniforms; so that the inspector sees a number of men in new clothes, and decides by their bearing their fitness to act as policemen. this condition of things enables a man to earn a salary who might otherwise be unemployed, and if it stopped there the absurdity might be worth the money; but when a police force is to be judged and their grants to be graduated, not according to their knowledge of the work, but according to the ignorance of their inspectors, there is likely to be trouble. if the police require to pay more attention to the inspector who can stop their grant than to representatives of the citizens in whose service they are supposed to act, it is a bad thing for the police and for the citizens. every district has its own peculiarities, not observed by those who live there because of custom, but noticed by strangers and sometimes disapproved by them. it is an advantage, therefore, that those set in positions of authority should be acquainted with the customs and manners of the people among whom they live. a policeman will discharge his duties with more comfort to himself, more credit to the force, and greater benefit to the community if he knows those in the district in which his duties lie. unless he is in touch with the law-abiding elements therein, unless he knows them and has their confidence and support, in many cases he will not be in a position to distinguish between conduct that is harmless and conduct that is criminal. for instance, it is well known that professional thieves depend largely on their coolness and daring for their success. if "thief" were written all over them they would starve, and they only earn their living because, to those who are personally unacquainted with them, they are not distinguishable from honest men. the policeman knows this; and if he sees a person coming out of business premises long after business hours, he quite naturally questions that person by look or by word. if he does not know whether the person has a right to be there he may make a fool of himself, either by arresting a man who has had legitimate business on the premises or by letting a thief get away. he is on the horns of a dilemma in which he should not be placed. again, supposing complaints have been made about lads loitering around certain closes or corners, and the policeman has been instructed to have this stopped. if he knows the inhabitants of his beat he is able to discriminate between those who have a certain right to be about the place and those against whom the complaint is directed. if he does not know them he may reprimand or arrest the wrong people altogether, causing trouble for himself and widespread irritation that need never have been aroused. those who have been affronted or injured do not take his difficulties into account; and it may be that those who are responsible for placing him in what is, after all, a false position, have not sufficiently considered the evil results caused thereby. the military habit of assuming that every man is like every other man, and shifting people about like so many dolls, has its disadvantages in civil life. it does make a difference whether the man set to do a certain duty is acquainted with the conditions in which he is placed or is ignorant of them. even at the door of a court not only discretion but knowledge is necessary on the part of the door-keeper, and from neglect to recognise this simple fact a sheriff has been stopped at the door of a high court; a procurator-fiscal after thirty years' service in the court has been refused admission; and the medical officer in attendance has had to demand to see a superintendent before he could get in. if such things are possible in cases like these, it is quite clear a good deal of trouble and annoyance, and possibly a good deal of injustice, may result in quarters which cannot be said to be influential. it has been said that it is advisable to move men about from one district and from one duty to another in order to prevent their possible corruption; but the men are neither so stupid nor so bad as this reason would imply. the person who is corrupt will carry his corrupt tendencies with him over a wider area and be quite as dangerous there; for the less he is known the more readily will his personal defects escape supervision and criticism on the part of those among whom he works; and it is better that he should be discovered and dismissed than that the great mass of policemen, who are neither stupid nor corrupt, but who are honestly seeking to discharge their duty in such a manner as to gain them the goodwill of their fellow-citizens, should have their work rendered unnecessarily arduous and difficult. too much is expected of them considering the opportunities they are allowed, and their faults are due more to the system by which they are ruled than to any personal defects on the part of the men. anything that will bring that system more intimately in touch with the needs of the community and more sympathetically in contact with the difficulties of the poorer classes will help towards the efficiency and also the comfort of the force. when a person is arrested on any criminal charge he is first taken to the local police station, where the charge is entered. he is searched and placed in a cell, and if there is anything special in the charge against him, or in his appearance and behaviour, his treatment may be modified accordingly. in the great majority of cases the person arrested is only a petty offender at most. if he has money sufficient, he may hand it over as bail and be released with a notice that if he does not appear at a time and place specified his money will be forfeited and he may again be taken into custody. if he or his friends cannot leave a pledge for his appearance he makes acquaintance with the routine of administration. he becomes the tenant of a cell where he remains till the sitting of the court next morning. if the cell accommodation is fully taken up he may have company; and while every effort is made to prevent old offenders being placed in the same cell with those who are in for the first time, the best that can be done is bad. although prisoners are presumed to be innocent till they are found guilty, they are in many respects worse treated while waiting to be sent to prison than after they arrive there. this is not the fault of the police so much as that of the authorities who are responsible for the accommodation or the want of it. a drunk man may be a very helpless or a very intractable person, and little can be done for him till he is sober. his condition is such that it is quite clearly not the best practice to put him in a cell and leave him there. it is no uncommon thing to find that the drunkenness has masked some more serious condition; but even although there should be nothing behind his intoxication, the man is more liable to contract illness than a sober person. in less enlightened countries than ours such prisoners are not left alone, but are kept warm and placed under observation till they are sober. in our country they are less carefully treated. drunk or sober the prisoner is in an uncomfortable position. the police have difficulties to contend with that are not present in the prisons. the prisoners they arrest are not appreciably more dirty than when they arrive at the prison, but in the police cells there are not the same facilities for making and keeping things clean. there is no supply of free labour and not a generous provision of paid cleaners, and the cells in some cases seem to be constructed more with a view to saving the expense of cleaning than to providing for the reasonable custody of prisoners. wooden floors are less easily cleaned than asphalt or cement, and both in the prisons and the police cells this seems to determine their construction. it is a piece of senseless cruelty in a climate such as ours, as anyone can easily find out for himself if he cares to try. in such a place even in warm weather it is difficult to keep the feet warm, and cold feet do not improve a man's temper. the newer cells are lined with glazed brick in deference to some sanitary notions. it is a great pity that the apostles of sanitation cannot be compelled to live in the places they design. no doubt the glazed walls are more easily cleaned than whitewashed brick would be, but they strike a chill into the occupants of the place, and moisture condenses on them in a way that it does not elsewhere. cleanliness let us have by all reasonable means, but to be clean it is not necessary to be uncomfortable; and such methods are enough to disgust with cleanliness those who have to submit to their results. another objectionable feature of the cell is the presence of a water-closet in it. surely the sanitary expert has been napping when this was arranged; but here again the matter seems to be one of expense. the reasonable way would be to escort prisoners to a place when necessary, but that would mean the provision of a proper staff of warders. the cell is otherwise unfurnished save for a raised slab of wood which takes the place of a bed. there is no bedding provided. it is a barbarous provision for the man who is presumed to be innocent. as for his diet, there is none prescribed. he may have food sent in or he may have money to purchase it. if not, he will have to get along on bread and water, not having been proved guilty. in the morning he will be brought before the court, and if he asks for it he may have water to wash himself before appearing there. cleanliness is not enforced, though it may be encouraged; but judging by their appearance when admitted to prison, not many have sought the water-basin during their stay in the police cell. by the summary jurisdiction act, , it was provided that persons should not be kept in police cells for more than one night, and all persons remanded were sent to prison, to their distinct advantage; for there the staff and conditions are arranged for the custody of prisoners, and they are free for the time being from the noises incidental to the arrest and confinement of drunken persons, while they have a better chance of having their needs attended to. this procedure entailed more work on the officials, a difficulty that could easily have been overcome by a small increase in the staff. it meant not more trouble than is necessitated in the case of persons remitted to higher courts, and if the interests of the prisoners who are presumed to be innocent had been considered the act would have remained in force; but their convenience was not represented so powerfully as that of the officials, and reversion to the old, bad plan of retaining prisoners in the custody of the police has taken place. they may be kept in the police cells for forty-eight hours. some of those who are arrested may be suffering from injuries or disease. to attend these a casualty surgeon is employed. when he is asked to do so, it is his duty to call and see prisoners who complain or who are obviously ill. his pay is small; and from it, until lately, he had to provide any dressings and medicines that were required. it is not part of his duty to see every prisoner before the court begins. occasionally people are sent to prison who should never have been brought before the courts at all. both police and surgeon are placed in a very difficult position by the system. the police may err in their judgment as to the condition of a prisoner and may fail to direct the attention of the medical man to him. on the other hand, if they call in the surgeon too frequently to see persons who are not in need of his services he may reasonably complain, and dissensions may arise on this account which will make the working of the system irritating to all parties. in order to their comfort, surgeon and police have to make allowances for each other and to stand by one another in a way that is not likely to make for such efficiency of service to the public on the part of either as is desirable. when some extraordinary case attracts attention blame is lavishly showered upon the police; and it is generally undeserved, at least in the form it takes. they are not to blame because of their failure to do things for which they are unfitted. they may be to blame for not protesting against duties being thrust upon them which should be performed by others. it is misdirected economy to underpay medical men, and until this is recognised accidents may be looked for and incidents will occur to shock the public because of the injury which some person has inadvertently sustained. in the court the burgh procurator-fiscal may prosecute, or his depute may act for him. in glasgow with all its police courts there is only one trained lawyer who prosecutes. the great mass of the charges are conducted by his deputes, who are invariably police officers. the only witnesses in many cases are constables and the prosecutor is one of their superior officers. it is a state of affairs that does not impress an outsider by its wisdom, and it is not regarded by those who come within its scope as being fair. the police have too many duties thrust upon them. on the bench, in the great majority of cases, there is an untrained judge. in glasgow there is only one stipendiary magistrate, who is a trained lawyer. the others are magistrates of the city, who have to discharge a multitude of duties, among which is that of sitting in judgment on their fellow-citizens. they have been elected to the town council to serve their constituents as members of that body, and in due course they are made bailies. nobody pretends that they are thereby endowed with a knowledge of the law, experience in weighing evidence, or the judicial mind; but they are invested with judicial powers, and in certain cases can send men to prison for twelve months. they are usually men of excellent character and intentions, but unfortunately both of these qualities may exist with utter incompetence from a judicial standpoint. the draper would not admit that a grocer could exchange businesses with him and the concern go on as well as ever. each man knows that to learn his own trade requires time, to speak of nothing else; but they appear to believe that all that is required to enable them to execute what in law stands for justice is the possession of a chain of office. were there any foundation in fact for such an idea many weary years of study would be saved; for it is easier to get a chain than a licence to practise. that they are usually quite satisfied of their own fitness for the work goes without saying; and it would be a piece of vanity as harmless as it is foolish if the liberty of so many were not placed in jeopardy by it. it has been urged as an argument against the appointment of trained lawyers that there were fewer appeals from the decisions of the bailies than from those of the professional man. this is meant as a testimony to their superior fitness, presumably; for the only relevant inference from the statement is that the bailie is better qualified to act as a judge than the man who has had a training in the work. it is a startling testimony to the superiority of inspiration to reason. there are no testimonials from those who had appeared before the courts either as prisoners or agents, however; and the plea is not convincing. that it should ever have been made is a striking commentary on the fitness of those who made it; or on their modesty. appeals from police-court decisions can only be made on a case stated by the magistrate whose judgment is appealed against. trained men are not free from liability to error, and they recognise the fact. if a case is stated in such a way that the issue is obscured there is no use in attempting an appeal; so that freedom from appeals may as readily be a testimony to the inefficiency of a judge as to his efficiency. it may afford a presumption that he is not only unfit to try a case, but not to be trusted in stating one. to suggest that it affords evidence of the superior ability of the draper and the grocer to the lawyer in law matters, is to presume too much on the credulity of the public. if they are really so splendidly endowed it is surprising that they should not place their services at the disposal of one another when a question of trade causes dispute. in that they might be expected to have knowledge at least; but though bailies have power to send men to prison they are not empowered to try civil causes involving the property of their fellow-citizens. that is to say, they have power over the lives, but not over the property of the lieges. this is surely a grave injustice; either to them or to the prisoners. in every court where a bailie presides he is aided and advised by an assessor, whose duty it is to keep him within the law. it is a somewhat farcical situation. the prisoner is there because he is charged with breaking the law; the bailie is there to try him on the charge; and behind him is a legal gentleman to see that the judge does not himself break the law in the process! he may either take the advice of the assessor or disregard it, but he is the responsible magistrate. if he follows the assessor's advice, that official is in the exercise of power without responsibility, which is not a position in which anybody should be placed; if he follows the inner light, the "safeguard" which the assessor is supposed to be is useless. it is looked upon by many as a very small affair, this whole matter of the police court, but it is really a very large affair and a very important one. police courts are those where most offenders appear for the first time, and from them they are first sent to prison. as the first step counts for so much, it is of the utmost importance that those who come before these courts should have their cases thoroughly considered. this cannot be done if the proceedings are hurried, and it is notorious that bailies "try" scores of prisoners in a day, the work not appearing to interfere with their ordinary occupations. many of the prisoners plead guilty; but it is well known that there is a widespread belief among the labouring classes that if you plead guilty you get a shorter sentence. what justification there is for this belief i cannot say, but of its existence and its operative effect there is no room for doubt. they do not seem to take into account the effect the registration of a conviction may have against them at any future time, and pleas are given that no lawyer would advise. i do not mean to suggest that people in large numbers plead guilty when they have no knowledge of the offence, but that the act they have committed may have been capable of another than a criminal construction. x , a girl, is charged with fraud, which is a sufficiently serious crime. she has no previous convictions against her. she is remanded to prison, and there states she has been advised to plead guilty and she will get off lightly. she is told of the grave nature of the offence and legal assistance is obtained for her. it is found that she is a wayward girl who left her people and came to glasgow. she obtained employment in a shop, and got lodgings in a part of glasgow that is not very reputable and with people who were not likely to keep her straight. she lost her work and was kept on in her lodgings; but an event occurred there which made it imperative that she should go elsewhere, and she removed to the house of her landlady's daughter. she was there a fortnight when she met a woman whom she knew and through her obtained a situation. she left her lodgings and went to live with this woman. at the instance of her former landlady she was arrested for obtaining board and lodgings on false pretences. it was shown that she had paid her debt while she was working; and she protested she had made no false pretences, but meant to pay the balance when she could. the case was adjourned to enable her to do so. if she had not had legal advice and assistance there is no doubt that this girl would have had a conviction for fraud recorded against her. she had got into bad company and was on the way to the gutter, but by the operation of the law she would have been driven there. to deal properly with the large numbers which come before the police courts would take a great deal of time, but that is no reason why the cases should be hurried through. if a man has the means to fee a lawyer he is in a better case, or if he has committed an offence which is serious enough to cause his remand to a higher court, for there he will get legal assistance free; but if he is simply a petty offender with no one to help him he will probably get dealt with without any loss of time and be sentenced by scale. it is time that some provision was made to have the police court made less a police court and more a court of justice. there is far too much police about it for the public interest. anybody may attend, but few do so; and the proceedings might for all practical purposes be conducted in private, so far as the towns are concerned. the cases are seldom reported, and when the newspapers do notice the proceedings it is usually in a jocular way; but they are no joke to the persons concerned. a sensational murder is detailed and canvassed as though the only matter of importance to the country was the hanging of the wretch who has got into the limelight. every hysterical theorist is anxious to get his opinion of the proper way to treat criminals put before the public; and all the time we are busily engaged in putting into our machine young and old who have taken the first step downwards, and congratulating ourselves on the smoothness with which it works. it is not cruelty that causes us to behave in this way, but sheer stupidity and lack of imagination. now and then a man who has eyes to see gets made a bailie, but he makes a poor police judge. those who look upon themselves and are credited by others with the heaven-born instinct are as likely to be the men whom no one would trust to be a judge in his own cause; and it is quite possible for a man who is narrow-minded, vindictive, and callous to have the fate of his poorer fellow-citizens placed in his hands, and, because he likes the work, to continue on the bench long after his term as a bailie has expired. if it is important to deal with wrongdoing in the beginning; if it is desirable to prevent people from being sent to prison when that can be avoided; it is obvious that we must see that our minor courts are so arranged and so officered that those who come before them have at least as good a chance of having their cases weighed as the old hands who go to the higher courts get there. the sheriff may sit to try cases summarily, just as the bailie does; but the court is ordered differently. the procurator-fiscal has no connection with the police. the case is reported by them to him and he makes his own enquiries and may drop proceedings altogether. the sheriff is an experienced lawyer and he sees that the prisoner's case is properly presented. the prisoner, if he wishes, may have a law-agent to appear on his behalf, and in jury cases it is the duty of the prison authorities to see that a lawyer has the defence in hand. in scotland it has been the custom for all indicted prisoners who have not the means to pay for legal advice to receive competent legal representation. the agents for the poor give their services freely and ungrudgingly. they behave towards the poor person who is accused of crime in the same way as the hospital doctors do to the sick who present themselves. in the course of their work they have to devote considerable time to the cases of those whose defence is entrusted to them; and if the charge is one that brings the accused before the high court they appear by counsel for him. no person appears in the dock of the high courts in scotland who has not a qualified member of the bar to defend him; and the absence of financial means does not affect this privilege. this provision of legal advice and assistance is not made at the expense of the public, but at that of the profession; and it is of as much benefit in its own way as that made for the sick by the members of the medical profession. i have never seen young medical men work with more enthusiasm to pull a patient from the jaws of death than is shown by the lawyers in their efforts to snatch the accused poor person from the hands of the prosecution. in both cases the energy might be expended to better purpose; for sick persons are frequently restored to health only to become a greater nuisance to their neighbours, and some accused persons are acquitted and sent out to prey on society; but when all discount has been made there is left a great deal of good work that was well worth doing. with regard to the work of both doctor and lawyer, we may some day take steps to see that the persons restored to health do not use their powers to the disadvantage of society, and that those restored to liberty do not use their freedom to molest others. at present we take no account of them once they have ceased to be cases--to our disadvantage as well as to theirs--and no one recognises more clearly than the lawyer that he is sometimes engaged in the attempt to turn loose on society a man who has no intention of conforming to its laws. on the other hand, everyone who has taken part in the work knows that were it not for his action serious injustice would be likely to take place. if there were as full a provision made for the defence of prisoners who come before the police courts as exists for that of those who appear in the higher courts, it would be alike to the advantage of the officials, the prisoners, and the public; but to ask that such a provision should be made at the sole cost of the legal profession is to ask too much. in special cases they have never been appealed to in vain; and they need to give more time to one case than would enable a medical man to attend twenty. their services are not sufficiently appreciated and known by the general public, or it would be recognised that they have contributed to save many poor people from degradation and helped to prevent accessions to the ranks of the habitual offender. no one would propose that prisoners who are called before the higher courts should be deprived of skilled advice and advocacy unless they are able to pay, and yet there is less need in these courts than in the police courts for the provision that exists. when a prisoner has been remitted from a police court he is transferred in a van to prison, to await further proceedings. it has often been remarked that the various departments in corporations seem to act independently of each other. the sanitary department acts energetically to prevent overcrowding in some circumstances, but the van used for conveying prisoners to prison seems to have escaped their notice. it is a prehistoric vehicle in the form of a bus without windows. it is divided into compartments each holding a number of prisoners, and the partitions contribute to prevent proper ventilation. it is lit by a few panes in the roof. on a hot day it is stifling. any vehicle of the kind would never be licensed for the conveyance of ordinary passengers, animal or human, by a modern sanitary authority. the presiding judge in the higher courts is either a sheriff or a lord of justiciary. the sheriff has jurisdiction over a county and may sit both as judge and jury; that is to say, he may try cases summarily; but his court differs materially, even when he is doing so, from that of the burgh magistrate. in the first place, more public attention is given to the proceedings, for the higher the court the greater is the interest shown in its work. in small country burghs this rule may not hold good, for there the inhabitants know more of what is doing in their midst. they may be acquainted with police, judge, and offender, personally; and in that case are likely to take a lively interest in the proceedings, criticising freely all the parties and influencing powerfully the tone of the court; but in a great city the police courts might as well be held anywhere for all the effective public supervision and informed criticism they receive. then the police are not prosecutors in the sheriff summary courts. the prosecution is conducted by a procurator-fiscal who is appointed by the lord advocate, and who holds his appointment for life and is not in any way under the authority of the police. the sheriff is a man of experience in his profession, and is continually engaged in judicial work, mostly of a civil character. he is not merely or mainly engaged in dealing with criminals, and is not likely to acquire a subconscious prejudice against the defendant. the lord advocate is the head of the department concerned with prosecutions in scotland, and no criminal action can be taken without his direction or concurrence. private prosecutions at common law are practically unknown. his deputes act for him in the higher courts and are instructed by the procurators-fiscal, who are solicitors and prosecute in the sheriff courts themselves. it is their duty to make enquiries into all charges with which the police courts are not competent to deal, and these enquiries are conducted privately. from the time a prisoner is passed on to them until he appears at the court to plead or to be tried there are no public proceedings against him. he is brought into the court at an early stage, the charge is read over to him, and he is asked to make a declaration. a law-agent is provided for his assistance, and he is told that anything he says by way of declaration may be used against him. the agent may advise him to say nothing and he usually does so, his declaration amounting simply to a denial of the charge. this is signed by him and read at his trial, usually closing the case for the crown. while the declaration is being taken the public are excluded from the court. if the procurator-fiscal considers that his enquiry does not justify further proceedings the charge is dropped, provided the lord advocate agrees; but if the authorities are satisfied there is a case for trial an indictment is served. in scotland when a prisoner is indicted to appear before a jury court he must be served seventeen days before his trial with a copy of the indictment, containing the charge, a list of the productions against him, and a list of the witnesses to be called for the prosecution. seven days thereafter he is brought before the court to plead to the charge. if he plead guilty he may be dealt with there and then. if he plead not guilty his plea is recorded and he is sent back till the second diet of the court. if he intend to set up a special defence, such as insanity or an alibi, notice of such defence has to be given at the pleading diet; but the witnesses he intends to call need not be notified to the crown until three days before the trial by jury. the prosecution cannot add any productions or any witnesses to the list furnished in the indictment; but if it is decided that additional witnesses are required the diet may be deserted and a new indictment served. in no case, however, can a prisoner be kept with a charge hanging over his head for more than one hundred and seventeen days from the date of his committal. after that time he is entitled to be liberated and no further proceedings on the charge can be taken against him at any time. the crown usually makes careful enquiries in the public interest when any special plea of insanity is brought forward; and if satisfied that the plea is a valid one, has provided, at the public expense, expert testimony to that effect on behalf of the prisoner. the greatest care has been taken to ensure that prisoners brought before the higher courts do not suffer from lack of means, and there is never any disposition on the part of the prosecutor to make it a point of honour that he should obtain a conviction. there is no speech by the prosecutor in opening his case. so far as the court is concerned the jury start without any bias against the prisoner, and as the evidence is led they gain their knowledge of the case. in most cases the prosecutor does not address the jury at all. he contents himself with leading evidence. the character of the prisoner is not disclosed to the jury until after their verdict has been returned. if during the trial any reference is initiated by the prosecution as to previous convictions, the prisoner is entitled to an acquittal upon the charge against him. the point the jury has to determine is whether the person committed the crime charged, and they have to find their verdict simply on the evidence led. the scottish jury consists of fifteen men, and the verdict of a majority is required. they may decline on the evidence to express an opinion on the prisoner's guilt, but instead may find the charge not proven. this is the most practical provision for giving a prisoner the benefit of any doubt that exists in their minds after hearing the evidence. whatever the verdict may be, the prisoner, having been once tried, cannot again be charged with the same offence. it is difficult to conceive any system under which a prisoner charged with crime could be more fairly treated; and if in the minor courts offenders received the same consideration, the number sent to prison would be greatly diminished and the ranks of the habitual offender would fail to receive so many recruits. chapter ii the prison system centralisation--the constitution of the prison commission-- parliamentary control--the commissioners--the rules--the visiting committee--the governor and the matron--the chaplain--the medical officer--the staff. before the year all the scottish prisons, with the exception of the penitentiary at perth, were under the control and management of the local authorities. one result was that there were many standards of treatment, and parliament decided that as the prevailing methods were unsatisfactory the treatment of prisoners and the management of prisons should be vested in a central board. the changes made by the prison commission have been many, and the prison of to-day is widely different from that of forty years ago; but before attributing all improvements to the new system it is fair to take into account the progress made in local administration during that time. the true comparison is not between the prison of forty years ago and that of to-day, but between the prison and the local institutions of to-day. central management is likely to result in uniformity of routine and treatment in all prisons; but it is questionable whether that is a gain. it may tend to more economical administration if the test is one of expenditure of money, but it makes experiment in the way of reform very difficult. not only are no two men alike, but no two districts are alike; and methods of dealing with people belonging to one part of scotland are not necessarily the best to apply to the inhabitants of another part. it is not a good thing to bring prisoners from outlying districts to centres; there is always a danger of their remaining there after their liberation and obtaining introductions that will not be likely to help them except in the way of wrongdoing. the large institution may cost less money, but it can never have such intimate supervision as the small one. the prison commission for scotland consists of two ex-officio and two paid members. the ex-officio members are the crown agent and the sheriff of perthshire. the crown agent goes out with the government of the day, but he is not usually a member of parliament. the sheriff of perthshire in virtue of his office had a place on the board which managed the old penitentiary at perth; that is probably the reason why he is a commissioner of prisons under the act of . it is certainly not because perthshire is a county which contributes many criminals from its courts to the prison population. there are thus two lawyers on the board, one being a judge and the other being the solicitor in whose office public prosecutions are directed. the other commissioners are permanent civil servants, appointed by the secretary for scotland. at first there were also two inspectors who gave their whole time to the work of visiting the various prisons and reporting on their condition and management to the secretary of state, but in process of time there has been a change, and now the secretary of the commission is the only inspector. the commissioners themselves visit the prisons and inspect them; but as they are responsible for the management, the arrangement is open to the criticism that they report on their own work, without independent inspection. the secretary of state is the head of the board, and is responsible to parliament for the work of the department; but his sole means of knowing that work is the reports he receives from the commission. whether on all boards members of parliament should not have a place and power, just as members of a town council form the supervising authority over the work of its departments, is a question that will bear discussion. at present the member of parliament can only make himself a nuisance by asking questions; that is what it amounts to, since no matter what the answer may be, it leaves him very much where he was. he is usually as ignorant at the end as he was when he began. some aggrieved constituent having more faith than knowledge has made an _ex-parte_ statement to his representative, who puts a question to the minister, who passes it on to the department concerned, which transmits to him the answer given by the person complained of, which shows that there is no ground for the complaint. it may be uncomfortable for someone, but it is not business. if the complaints are too frequent or the complainers too influential to be disregarded, the minister forms a committee of enquiry which turns things up for a time, censures somebody who is too small to cause trouble, makes a few apologetic suggestions for alterations, white-washes with liberality those who most need it, and presents another report for the waste-paper basket. spasmodic enquiries can never make up for systematic neglect, and their effect is seldom to cause as much improvement as irritation. the danger to the public service is not from corruption, but from the official mind getting out of touch with the spirit of the time and the needs of the public. rules for the government of prisons are laid down by the secretary for scotland, and these rules become statutory after they have been laid on the table of the house of commons for a period. they define the duties of the various officials, lay down regulations for the treatment of the prisoners, and deal in detail with the management of the prisons. the commissioners have the whole control in their hands, subject to the rules. they appoint all the inferior officers; transfer and promote them; or dismiss them if their conduct is unsatisfactory. they do not appoint the superior officers, but it is to be expected that their advice will be considered by the secretary of state, with whom the nominations lie. as a commissioner cannot be in more than one place at a time, they cannot be expected to have any intimate knowledge of the capability of the men who depend for promotion on them; and their task in this matter alone is no easy one. as for knowledge of the prisoners at first hand, that is impossible; for prisoners are as hard to know as other people, and one person cannot know much of another as the result of an occasional short conversation. if they were liable to err they could not be criticised effectively; for any official who might be in a position to criticise would run the risk of not being in that position long; any prisoner might be looked upon as a prejudiced person; and no member of the public is able to offer criticism, for he does not know the facts. this is an unfortunate state of affairs; for even the ablest minds are the better for being brought in conflict with others and in contact with other ideas, and a system that discourages independent thought is not likely to lead to rapid progress. it has its advantages, however, for a knowledge of the rules and a habit of always carrying them out ensure to the prisoner, peace, and to the officer a good reputation and better prospects than he could ever hope for if he were foolish enough to set his brains to work. in a private business, when a man gets a position, he cannot hold it unless by exercising his judgment in such a way as to satisfy his employer that he is worth his salt; when he fails in this he is liable to dismissal. in the public service the case is different. there is no question of bankruptcy for one thing, and there is security of tenure for another. you cannot depend on always having men of ability in the posts, but by the aid of rules you can teach a person of moderate talent to get through his work. to disregard the rules may be justifiable in a given case and so far as that case is concerned, but it is liable to knock the whole machine out of gear. there are many able men in all branches of the civil service, and the fact is often referred to by cabinet ministers amid loud cheers from the public; but they recognise the need for routine and follow it. they would otherwise have less time for literary work, in which they can use their original powers to greater advantage. the public departments have produced more poets, novelists, critics, and playwrights than any other large businesses, as, for instance, the railways or the engineering trades. these also employ talented men, but their talents are deflected to business channels. if they had their work laid down for them in rules and regulations they also might add to the gaiety of nations. commissioners are always appointed from among men in a good position whose minds have not been warped by any previous association with prisons. they can thus approach their duties without prejudice; and officials and prisoners alike have the satisfaction of knowing that they are in the hands of gentlemen. each prison has its visiting committee, consisting of members nominated by various local authorities with the addition of ladies nominated by the secretary of state. under the rules for prisons it has considerable powers of criticism, but they are not much used. in glasgow the committee meets once a year, when its members arrange to visit the prison in pairs once monthly. in practice this means that each member spends in the prison two or three hours on an average every year. how much the members can learn about the work of the prison in that time may be surmised. they go round the place and ask each prisoner if he has any complaints, and they seldom receive any. they see that the place and its inmates are kept clean; that the food is good; that the sick are being attended to; and they may hear a complaint of breach of discipline and award a punishment therefor occasionally. they record their visits and make any suggestion that may occur to them. they may communicate direct with the secretary of state if they choose. they might perform a very useful part in the management of the prison if their powers were used to the full extent and their meetings were more frequent. they have no power to incur expenditure, but without doing so it is quite conceivable that by inviting the officials to explain matters and to direct their attention to special cases they might do a great deal to suggest improvements, with a view to prevent certain people from being sent to prison and to provide for others on their release. they have the power to allow or to refuse certain privileges to untried prisoners. they are all agreed that the prison is an admirably managed institution, as free from faults as any place could be; but whether they have ever got the length of asking themselves what is the use of it is doubtful. it is clean--as it well may be; it is orderly--which causes no surprise, although its inmates are there because they "cannot behave themselves"; there are no complaints, and at the end of a visit they know as much of the inmates as they might learn of natural history by a walk round the zoo. they might conceivably be set to find out on behalf of the local authorities they represent why the prisoners are there and why so many of them return; whether it is not time we were seeking other means of dealing with them, and what means; whether nothing more and nothing else can be done than is done at present to help them on their liberation. the commissioners have enough to do; and in the nature of things they are not so well qualified to deal with these subjects as the local authorities, for they cannot come so intimately in touch with local conditions. but the members of the visiting committees are usually busy men on the local councils and have little time to spend on prison affairs, which may be a very good reason for the councils nominating others who could find the time. so long as they merely see that the prisoner is not being ill-used outwith the rules, they are only looking after the interest of prisoners and public in a partial way. when they begin to examine matters from the standpoint of the public welfare--when they realise that the treatment of the criminal is as much a matter of public health as the treatment of the sick, and that it is to the interest of the community that it should be undertaken in such a way as to lead to his reformation--it will be better for everybody, including the prisoner. i can imagine local committees making discoveries for themselves with regard to the causation of crime that would influence powerfully their whole administration; bringing pressure to bear within the law where it is most required and relieving pressure where it is harmful; using the powers they have, instead of lamenting the want of power which there is no evidence they could use if it were given them; but it needs a beginning. each prison is in charge of a governor who is in daily communication with the office in edinburgh. he visits the prisoners once daily and hears any complaints by them or regarding them. he has the power to impose certain punishments for offences against discipline, but if they involve a decrease of diet they must be confirmed by the medical officer, who may refuse to allow them on medical grounds. he is responsible for the carrying out of the rules and his discretionary power is very small. no qualification has been laid down for the position, and this leaves the secretary of state free to appoint anybody whom he considers most likely to perform the duties satisfactorily, and prevents the post becoming a preserve for the members of any profession. in scotland military men have been appointed, and members of the clerical staff and warders have been promoted to governorships, but no professional man has ever been placed in such an important position. when the governor is absent or on leave his place is taken by the head warder, who performs the duties of this important office in addition to his own. where there are a sufficient number of female prisoners there is a matron in charge of them, who visits them in the same way as the governor does the males and discharges similar duties towards them. the prison chaplain must be an ordained minister, and in the larger prisons he holds services weekly and conducts prayers daily. he visits the prisoners in their cells and administers spiritual consolation and advice; and he does what he can to help them on their liberation. prisoners who are roman catholics and those who are episcopalians are visited by clergymen of those churches in a similar way. the medical officer must be a registered practitioner, and it is his duty to look after the health of the staff and of the prisoners. of all the officials he has the freest hand, for it has not so far been practicable to direct the treatment of the sick from a central office; but his very freedom--such as it is--may lead him into trouble should he pay regard to differences of temperament among prisoners and go beyond a consideration of merely physical signs. if he confine his energies to carrying out the rules he need never fear death from work or worry. he may hope to become a highly respectable fossil and have a place in the esteem of everyone to whom he has caused no trouble. he can do much to help prisoners, not by indulging them, but by humanising the place to some extent and setting the tone. he need not be a better man than his colleagues, but he is less a part of the working machine, and that should make a difference in his attitude. he is not concerned with discipline, for the sick are free of it, so that in a sense it is his business to interfere with discipline. his work is to do the prisoners good in a way they can understand; and he has even an advantage over the chaplain, whom they also recognise as a humanising influence, for men are usually a good deal more anxious about their bodies than about their souls. the governor may be a better man than either the doctor or the chaplain, but his position as the head of a system that the prisoners do not regard as directed to their aid handicaps his influence on them. at one time the clerical staff of the prisons was composed of clerks, but now men who join as warders are promoted to clerkships, serving part of the day in the prison and part in the office. all applicants for warderships have to pass a series of examinations and to serve on probation for twelve months before being finally admitted to the service. a rigid enquiry is made as to their antecedents; their health forms the subject of a careful enquiry; and they have to pass an examination in general education. after all this they receive a salary which is not large, to put it mildly. it is a steady job, and therefore sought after by those who prefer to take a small salary with security of tenure to risking the rough-and-tumble of industrial life. female warders are paid better than men, as women's wages go. compared with the work done by them in other institutions they are well off, but there is not a rush for vacancies. both male and female warders in scottish prisons will compare favourably with any other body of officials; and the prevailing spirit shown by them towards prisoners is kindly and human. chapter iii the prison and its routine reception of the prisoner--cleanliness and order--the plan of the prison--the cells--their furniture--the diet--the clothing--work--the workshops--separate confinement and association--gratuities--prison offences--complaints--punishment cells--visits of the chaplain--visits of representatives of the churches--the gulf between visitor and visited--the chapel--the salvation army--rest--recreation--the prison library--lectures--the airing-yard--physical drill. once prisoners are within the prison their condition is much more comfortable than it had been when they were under the charge of the policeman. when they leave the van their identity is checked and the warrants for their detention are inspected. they are then passed into the reception-room and are placed each in a separate box. they are taken one by one and questioned as to certain details that are noted for purposes of identification and for statistical records. then comes the bath. the prisoner removes all his clothing and an inventory of it is taken. when he leaves the bath his own clothing has been replaced by a dress provided by the state. his clothing is disinfected and placed aside in a bundle, against the time of his liberation. he now receives a copy of the prison rules, which he must obey; a bible, which he may study; a hymn-book; an industry-card, on which his earnings will be noted; and some other articles; and he is passed on to prison. his life there is one of monotonous routine whether his sentence be short or long. the prison surprises visitors by its quiet and by the conspicuous cleanliness which is its characteristic feature. yet it is not surprising that people should be able to keep the place clean and tidy, when they have little else to do and no opportunity for making it dirty and untidy. the cleanliness and tidiness of a prison is different from that of any household. it is not the cleanliness and tidiness of healthy life. it is part of the prisoner's work to keep his cell and its furniture in order. one thing visitors cannot miss seeing, yet do not observe, though it is of much more significance than the cleanliness they admire: the good temper and tractability of the prisoners. that a prisoner should be clean is wonderful; that people who have been committing breaches of the peace, assaults, thefts, and have been generally a nuisance or a terror to the public, should be moving about at work or at exercises quietly and peaceably, should be so obedient and tractable that one warder can look after twenty of them and seldom have anything to report to their discredit, is far more wonderful. these people are sent to prison because they cannot obey the law, but while in prison they are not rebellious; so that it is reasonable to infer that there has been something in the conditions of their life outside which has led them into misconduct, and not that they are inherently incapable of behaving themselves. the modern prison is built on a simple plan. roughly it may be described as two blocks of cells joined by a gable at each end and roofed over; a well being left between the blocks and lighted from the roof. all the cells have windows in the outer, and doors in the inner, walls. balconies run round these inner walls, from which access is had to the cells in each flat. the cells in which the prisoners are confined are apartments measuring about ft. by ft. by ft. high. the partitions and roofs of the cells are of whitewashed brickwork, and the floor of stone and asphalt. each cell has a little window in the wall near the door glazed with obscured glass, and on the outside of these windows a gas bracket is placed. at night the cell is lit by this arrangement, which diminishes the amount of light and fixes its source in a corner. it is designed to prevent any person from attempting suicide by inhalation of gas; but in institutions where attempts at suicide are more likely to take place other means have been found to prevent the adoption of this method. it ensures that one hundred thousand people are inconvenienced in order that one may be prevented from ending his discomfort. there are other ways of breaking a walnut than crushing it with a steam-hammer. a prison cell does not contain much furniture. the bed is a wooden shutter hinged to the wall, so that it can be folded up during the day-time. when not in use the bedding is rolled together and placed in a corner of the apartment. convicted male prisoners who are under sixty years of age are not allowed a mattress during the first thirty days of their imprisonment; they just lie on the board. i do not suppose that anybody imagines that a man is more likely to lead a new life if he is made to sleep on a bare board, than he would be if he were allowed a mattress. it is intended to hurt, and it will hurt the more sensitive in a greater degree than those of a coarser constitution. it is a part of the system, and will go with it when people wake up to the fact that it is a senseless thing to set about to irritate and annoy others. of late years it has been discovered that prisoners were as little likely to escape if their cells were well lit as they would be their cells being ill lit. the windows have consequently been enlarged and nobody has been the loser. the cell at the best is not a place to inspire cheerfulness, but an effort has been made to make the place less bare. some years ago a six-inch circle of glass was attached to the wall in many cells. the glass was of that variety that distorts everything seen through it when it is used for windows, and when it is silvered and converted into a mirror the effect is peculiar. the walls of some of the cells are decorated with a chromolithograph, such as is given to customers as a calendar by many shopkeepers at the new year time. the mirror and the print, bad work and bad art though they may be, relieve the bare, ugly walls of the cells, and indicate a consciousness that the present system is not quite so perfect as it might be. whether any such mitigations (if it can always be called a mitigation to see your face twisted out of shape and to gaze upon a sentimental chromo) are worthy of the fuss made about them is another matter, for the main question is not whether imprisonment should be mitigated, but--what is its object? in scotland the diet prescribed is a very simple one. in quantity it is ample for the needs of the great majority of the prisoners. indeed, a fair proportion receive more than they are fit to consume. the medical officer may reduce a diet to prevent waste; or he may increase a diet, if in his view the prisoner requires more food. as i believe that nearly every man knows his own needs a great deal better than the diet specialist, a request from a prisoner for more food is never refused provided he is consuming all he gets. a request for a change of food is quite another thing; but a man who for gluttony would gorge himself with the diet provided for prisoners would be a curiosity. the food is excellent in quality, but there is not much variety. there are three meals daily. porridge and sour milk with bread form the morning and evening meals, and the dinner usually consists of broth and bread. this is the ordinary routine diet, and one can understand that after a time it is not unnatural there should be longings for a change. it is a simple diet and is sufficient. the death-rate in prisons is small. the improvement in the health of broken-down and habitually debauched persons during their term of imprisonment is marked, and there can be no doubt that the regimen saves many of them from death and prolongs their lives. in these days the benefits of sour milk have been preached by the scientific man, and the culture of the lactic-acid bacillus has become a recognised industry. in the scottish prisons the inmates have had the advantage of its beneficent operations for many years, though they did not know its name and would have been glad to have seen sweet milk rather than sour. the state of their health forms a strong argument for the advocates of the simple life, yet most of them would choose greater variety in food, though they should die a few years earlier. the clothing of prisoners, as regards cutting and material, resembles nothing seen outside. the untried male is officially clothed in brown corduroy, and when convicted he exchanges this for white mole-skin. the surface of the cloth used to be decorated with broad-arrows, so that the prisoner looked like a person in a prehistoric dress over which some gigantic hen had walked after puddling in printer's ink; but this has been discontinued. the cut of the clothing seems to be designed to save cloth, and so long as the prisoner is kept warm he does not concern himself about the unfashionable character of his clothes. as for the women's dress, being a mere man i cannot describe it; but ladies who visit the prison seem to be agreed that it is plain and neat. it is certainly strikingly different from anything they wear. it is a rule that all convicted prisoners shall wear prison clothes. there are not very many of them whose own clothing is clean enough for them to wear, and not a few are more ragged than they need be. whether they would not be better employed in cleaning and mending their own clothes than in doing many of the things they are required to do is a question that might be considered. it certainly does not seem reasonable that because a person has offended we should thrust upon him our hospitality to the extent of causing him to use clothing provided by us, if he has clothing of his own that he can decently wear. his own clothing has been placed aside while under our care, and at the expiry of his sentence it may be handed back to him as it was taken from him, excepting for the creases it has acquired in the interval. it would cost more trouble to the officials to set prisoners to improve their own appearance than to set them to break stones, and yet it might not be a bad thing to do nothing for a man, not even to provide him with clothing, if he can do it for himself.[ ] [ ] _the rules for prisons in scotland_, , ordain that the matron "should ascertain how far those prisoners who are committed for considerable periods are deficient in a knowledge of domestic matters, such as cooking, washing, and repairing clothes, and instruct them in these things. she should encourage prisoners, in their spare time, to put their own clothes into a good state of repair before they leave the prison, and in some cases to make new clothes for themselves. and, lastly, she should learn what their prospects are on leaving prison; and with the aid of the governor and chaplain, do what she can to procure suitable situations for them." this rule is omitted from the edition of , and subsequently; but it is greatly in advance of anything that has been substituted for it. when prisoners' sentences exceed a certain term their own clothing is washed, and at the end of their imprisonment it is restored to them clean. this teaches them that if they do not keep their clothing clean it will be cleaned for them. at any rate, it does not teach them to do the necessary work themselves; but then it is much easier to do things for some people than to teach them to do these things for themselves. the work provided for prisoners varies in kind in different districts, but it has one common characteristic, which is that few could earn a living by it outside. it has been said by those who ought to know better that the prisons cannot undertake anything but the lowest kinds of unskilled labour, because of the objections made by trade unions. these societies are no more infallible in their wisdom than their critics, but they do not adopt the foolish attitude attributed to them. like employers of labour, they have objected to unfair competition on the part of prisons, and quite properly have taken steps to prevent underselling on the part of the authorities. prisons are not self-supporting institutions, and, in the nature of things as they exist, cannot be made to defray the expenditure incurred in their upkeep. most prisoners could quite well earn the cost of their food and clothing; but the cost of their supervision is greatly in excess of the cost of their board. it does not take much to keep a prisoner, but it takes a good deal to keep me and my colleagues, and that is a necessary part of the expenditure incurred on behalf of the institution. the prison accounts, as published, show a profit in some departments of prison labour, but this is arrived at by the ingenuous way of leaving out everything but the cost of material and (if the work is not for an outside customer) so much an hour for every prisoner engaged at it. if a manufacturer had only these items to consider there would be fewer bankrupts and more wealthy men; and if the price of goods were determined on an estimate of cost which only included these items plus a reasonable profit, it is quite clear that prison labour could undersell free labour. the trade unions and the private employers have simply insisted on prison-made goods being sold at prices which will not cut the market rate. prison labour is never so efficient as free labour, and though the employment of prisoners to do prison work may be justified on other grounds, it cannot be defended on an economic basis. it has often been suggested that tradesmen who have been convicted should be allowed to work at their trades while undergoing imprisonment; thereby they would be kept in practice, and would be less unfitted to resume their ordinary occupation on the expiry of their sentence; but a little consideration of the facts will show that however desirable this might be it is not practicable. in prison at any one time there may be a number of tradesmen, but their occupations are very different; and in many cases they are of such a character that even if work for them could be had it could not be undertaken owing to the fact that expensive machinery would require to be installed. even where the work is of such a kind that it could be done in prison it cannot be obtained for other reasons. in glasgow prison, where there are more women than men incarcerated, a laundry was started some years ago, and customers were invited to send in their washing to be done at ordinary outside rates. the washing is done by hand and no modern laundry machine is employed. the result is that the articles cleaned are not subjected to the same strain, and are likely to last longer. before long difficulties arose, and it became perfectly clear that these were not due to any action on the part of outside laundries, with which the prison was competing, but to inherent defects in the prison laundry. no business will be successful for long unless it keeps faith with its customers, who require to have their work done and delivered in proper condition within a fixed period. sometimes there are skilled laundresses among the prisoners, and at other times there are not. washing may be a very simple process, not requiring much training (although a great many occupations are considered, by those who do not undertake them, to be quite easy, but are difficult to those who try them for the first time), but it requires some skill to starch and iron clothing in a satisfactory way. customers found this out for themselves. work of that kind, and it seems a simple kind, is difficult to get, not because competing firms outside put obstacles in the way, but because the customer has no guarantee that he will have it done regularly to his satisfaction. the workshops vary in kind in different prisons, but they have the common character of differing from any workshop outside a prison. the ability and experience possessed by the managers of prisons are not the same kind as those present in managers of workshops outside. the training has been quite different. the outside man may be very proud of his working arrangements, but if his balance-sheet is unsatisfactory his pride is effectively checked. there is no such check to the satisfaction of those who manage prisons. when one remembers that they are the sole authorised critics of their own work, it is not surprising that its character should differ from that produced by industrial concerns outside. as a general rule prisoners are engaged at unskilled labour. some of them are associated at work, but always under the supervision of an officer, who sees that they do not engage in conversation with each other. public attention has been directed to the cruelty of solitary confinement, and nothing that has been said or written on the subject could be too strong in its condemnation. the term "solitary confinement" is generally objected to and that of "separate confinement" substituted for it; but the public need not concern itself with differences which are merely technical. the practice of rigidly enforcing silence and attempting to prevent any but the merest official interviews or associations between a prisoner and others will do as much serious harm under whatever name it is called. experience has shown that the association of prisoners with each other in the absence of strict supervision may result in general corruption, but rational efforts to prevent this evil can be made without the risk of inducing a greater. it is against the rules for prisoners to engage in conversation with one another; and the officers are not in a position to talk much to them except on business, even if they had the inclination to do so. prisoners may not be the most suitable company for each other; but, in the case of most of them, to shut one in to no company but himself can only result in his mental deterioration, and there can be no doubt that some have been driven towards insanity through this treatment. it is not an uncommon characteristic of old convicts that they show delusions of suspicion and of persecution, and this is not to be wondered at when one considers the narrowness of their life in prison, and the undue importance that is apt to be placed on little things by a man who is denied rational intercourse with others and whose natural curiosity is repressed. the more monotonous his life, the more his mind is compelled to dwell on the trivial incidents that are happening around him; the more he is shut in to himself, the greater the tendency for him to become twisted mentally. the fresher and more varied his interest is kept in things outside of himself the better for him and for others. the tendency of late years has all been towards a less rigid application of the rules which are designed to enforce silence, and there is now more reasonable association of prisoners than ever there has been, and less tendency when they are associated for their attention to be strained in an effort to watch at the same time their work and the warder who is supervising it. when they are under supervision by a sensible person there is very little danger of their doing or saying things that would be harmful; and as at night they are all in separate cells, the corruption that sometimes takes place in institutions where the dormitory system is in use is not possible. amongst prisoners in glasgow there has never in my experience been any chance for the development of a brooding, suspicious, unhealthy habit. the fact that so many untried prisoners are detained there, necessarily under conditions more favourable than the convicted, has made the place one in which the life is more varied and in which rules could be less readily enforced than in some other establishments. there have been more occurrences taking place under the prisoners' eyes, and they have had more to interest them. a good deal of the work is done in association, and that which is done in the cells is usually engaged in by prisoners who are detained for short terms; but even in their case they are not left alone for long periods. visits to them are frequent for one purpose or another, and there is no attempt made to harass or drive them. still, at the best, the life is not a healthy one from the mental standpoint. work and good conduct are rewarded by marks. prisoners whose sentence exceeds fourteen days, and who are not on hard labour, may earn four marks per day. for every six marks earned one penny is allowed as a gratuity to the prisoner at the expiry of his sentence, and this may be paid to him on his discharge, or he may receive it through one or other of the aid societies after his liberation. hard-labour prisoners may receive a gratuity of one shilling a month if their conduct and work have been satisfactory. the governor sees each prisoner daily in order to hear any complaint that may arise, either on the part of the prisoner or of the warder; but the visit otherwise is a formal one, as visits of inspection usually are. if the prisoner has a complaint or a request to make it is examined or attended to. should there be a complaint against the prisoner the parties are heard and judgment is given. there are numerous acts which are offences in prison, and the governor has power in minor cases to deal with them and to award punishment at his discretion; but in no case involving a change of diet or the infliction of any physical discomfort can the punishment be carried out until the prisoner is certified by the medical officer to be fit to stand it. the prisoner may offend in a great variety of ways, as through carelessness breaking a dish; through idleness failing to perform his task; through untidiness keeping his cell in an unsatisfactory condition; he may be insolent and insubordinate towards the officers; or he may be convicted of speaking to another prisoner or of making unauthorised communications. the offences for the most part are trifling in character and would not be offences outside the prison, but if the system is to be maintained the offenders must be dealt with. in more serious cases the offender is tried by a member of the visiting committee of the prison or by a prison commissioner. in some cases the conclusion cannot be escaped that offences are due more to an incompatibility of temperament between the prisoner and those over him than to anything else. a prisoner may behave and work well when under the supervision of one officer, and may do badly when under the care of another. some people can manage those under them better than others; but not infrequently the prisoner is neither a malicious person nor the warder a stupid person, and yet they cannot get on together. the obvious thing to do is to separate them; the easy thing to do is to punish the prisoner. sometimes assaults are made on warders by prisoners. in sixteen years' experience i have seen very few, and the assailants were usually half-witted creatures who had conceived a dislike, which did not seem to be founded on any tangible reason, against the person assailed. in my opinion these cases should never be tried in prison. offences committed in prison which would be cognisable by the criminal authorities if committed outside should be tried in an open court. i do not suggest that the prisoner would be treated unjustly if tried in prison, but it cannot be denied that the atmosphere is not favourable to his receiving the impression that he is getting what he would call "a fair show"; and the trial of a man before a court consisting of those interested in the management of prisons, on the complaint of a prison official, and without the presence of any members of the general public, is not calculated to inspire confidence. prisoners are at liberty to make any complaint to the prison commissioners in writing, and the governor is obliged to forward it; or they may communicate direct with the secretary for scotland without the writing being seen by the prison officials. such complaints may be referred to those complained against for answer, and if the result is not satisfactory a special enquiry may take place. each prison has its punishment cells--places for the incarceration of unruly prisoners. under rational management there is no use for them except temporarily, and then only to prevent the prisoner from injuring himself or others, or from annoying other prisoners by noise, in a fit of temper suggestive of insanity. it is one of the chaplain's duties to visit the prisoners, and although it is intended that he should minister to them spiritual consolation, that term may mean anything in practice. a man, whether a clergyman or not, who puts himself in a position of censor of morals to his fellows, is not regarded by them with any degree of affection or respect, unless he does not stop there. few people like to be talked down to, whether they are in prison or out of it. a superior attitude adopted towards some is more likely to draw out their evil qualities, and to excite them to bad temper and wrath, than to help them. i do not think prison chaplains in scotland, whether belonging to one denomination or another, are given to the practice of assuming that with those whom they address necessarily lies all the blame for their position. there is more a disposition to pity than to blame, although an attitude of pity is sometimes a greater insult than one of censure and may irritate as deeply. there has been a growing disposition to say kind things to and of prisoners. we may believe that more can be done by the kind look than by the harsh word, and lose sight of the fact that pity and sympathy are two quite different things. the fact of the matter is that nobody is able to assess justly the amount of blame to be attached to a man for his misdeeds, and the amount to be placed to the discredit of society; but in few cases is anyone helped by being encouraged to believe that he is free from blame, that he could not do any better than he has done. prisoners are not different from others in their tendency to put the best construction on their own behaviour. an astonishing number are in jail because they had bad neighbours. according to their statements, they could get along all right if it were not for the people next door. it may be quite true to some extent, but they are not to be helped in mending their own conduct by attention to the faults of their neighbours. i do not suggest that this attitude on their part, this disposition to prove how comparatively stainless they are and how objectionable are those with whom they have been brought in contact, is due to the ministrations of the clergy, but merely that it affects their estimate of the ministers of religion. the attitude of the prisoner towards the minister is one thing; his attitude towards the doctor, for instance, is quite another. the chaplain desires to be regarded as a friend of the prisoner, and that by many he is so regarded there can be no doubt; but unfortunately, with some of them, they seem to measure friendship by their ability to humbug the friend, and the value of the clergyman by what they can put into him which may tell in their favour when he estimates their character, and by what they can get out of him in the way of material help. the chaplain is sometimes swindled, but so are we all; his office and his message make him a mark for the shafts of the wicked. he sees one side of the prisoner better than any other official, and if he has counterfeit penitents he has also real ones. his visits may be a source of encouragement and strength to the prisoner; but whatever spiritual effect his teaching may have--whether it be great or little--if he has a human interest in those he visits, in so far as his character commands respect his ministrations tend to prevent the prisoner from sinking under the monotony of the discipline to which he is subjected. representatives of various religious agencies visit prisoners. they are remarkable for their earnestness and zeal, but there is often a fatal difference of standpoint between visitor and visited. a girl brought up in a slum, seeing and hearing sights and sounds which are an outrage on decency; working for long hours to earn a scanty living; housed rather worse than many horses and dogs; ill-taught and ill-cared for; has transgressed the law and been sent to prison. she knows she is to blame for doing the thing she has done in the way she has done it, but she and those like her regard her imprisonment as in some degree an accident. it is difficult to describe the standpoint. in a busy street where there is a constant stream of horses and mechanical traffic going in different directions and at different rates of speed, there is always danger to the passenger who seeks to cross; and occasionally someone is run down and hurt. the injured party is always to blame to some extent, and is hurt because he has failed to estimate the danger accurately and to avoid it successfully; but others may be to blame also. the fault is never wholly on one side. to the girl the law resembles the traffic in the street; and when she is knocked down she and her friends regard her as the victim of misfortune. that is not the standpoint of the visitor. she may have known nothing of the trials and temptations of the poor, save what she has seen from the outside. hunger has never been her attendant; poverty has been unknown to her. she has received attention and care in her early days; has not been tasked beyond her strength; has been able to choose her own work and do it in her own time; has been well housed and well fed; and has found it easy to obey the law. between the two a great gulf is fixed. their outlook is as different as their experience. it is a great mistake to assume that the rich know more of the poor than the poor know of the rich. the street-corner spouter may denounce the luxury of the wealthy and expose himself to their ridicule. they know that they are not as he paints them, and they laugh or sneer at his ignorance; but they are as little qualified to judge him as he is to judge them. each sees the other's vices; and every visitor is as much a subject of criticism by the prisoner as a critic. it is as unreasonable to expect that a woman in prison will give her confidence to a stranger who visits her, as it would be for the prisoner to expect that the visitor would submit to her questions. one thing is absolutely certain, and that is that visitors do not do the good they imagine they are doing when they pass from one cell to another exhorting the prisoners to better behaviour. they stir up the emotions of those to whom they minister, and some of the women find great consolation and relief in a good cry. there are those, however, who have learned to distrust the possibility of wholesale reform of prisoners, and who single out some one whom it seems possible to help and hang on to her, visit and encourage her on her liberation, and have their reward in the consciousness that they have really rendered effective assistance where it was needed. the ideal held up by the visitors in their advice to prisoners too often seems impossible of attainment by those to whom it is presented. there are some who have no ambition to live within the law, but there are many who would rather do so if they could. most of us have not in us the capacity to become great saints; and to ask the ordinary person to conform to a standard which would present difficulties to us, does not seem reasonable. something is gained if, though you fail to persuade a person to be good, you can induce him to be better than he has been. just as many have drifted into evil courses step by step, they may be led into a better way of living by degrees. sudden conversions are not uncommon, but they are not the rule. the visits to prisoners on the part of people from outside are of great benefit; anything is that breaks the monotony of the day; and if the visitors are receptive they may learn a good deal from the prisoners, and may be made the better for their visit even though they fail to make the impression they desire on those to whom they have spoken. there are three forms of religion recognised in prison: the presbyterian, roman catholic, and episcopalian. a service is held once a week by a clergyman of each of these churches, and the presbyterians go out to prayers daily. the chapel has a more or less ecclesiastical appearance, and is divided in such a way that the male and the female prisoners do not see each other, though the preacher can see both divisions. most of the prisoners do not attend religious services when they are at liberty, but some make an ingenious distinction between religion and conduct. i remember one old woman who had grown grey and almost blind after a long course of vicious and criminal conduct. she was eloquent regarding a person whom she described as being "nae better than an infidel." i replied that "at least he had kept out of prison," and she replied, "aye; but though i have been a drunkard, a blackguard, and a thief, thank god i never neglected my religion." i do not know whether the salvation army representatives are more effective as religious agents than the other visitors. their work is certainly better advertised, and they belong usually to the same social rank as many of the prisoners. the religion they teach, if more emotionally expressed, is not different from that taught by the other visitors; but they can appeal to the prisoner more effectively because they are better able than many others to appreciate and sympathise with the difficulties and temptations under which the wrongdoer has fallen. many of those in prison are not there because of idleness. they have worked harder in their day than the people who talk eloquently about the dignity of labour. neither are they there because, like the heathen, they have never heard the message of the gospel. as a matter of fact, most of them can never get away from the voice of the preacher for any long time, for the evangelists are abroad nightly singing hymns and exhorting the public in all the poorer working-class districts. they have worked hard enough to earn money and are in prison because they have not known how to spend it wisely. in prison they are not taught useful work, and as little are they taught how to recreate themselves after work. their day may be divided into four parts: there is a time for eating; there is a time for working; and what they do and what food they have has already been shown. there is a time for sleeping: they go to bed early in the evening and rise early in the morning. "early to bed and early to rise, makes a man----" well, it doesn't. at any rate, the inmates of the prison have not attracted attention hitherto on account of their wealth or their wisdom. then there is a time left for meditation. every prisoner has his bible and his prayer book. i am far from suggesting that this is a provision that should not be made, but by this time it will be generally admitted that mere bible reading, or praying, when a prisoner is in a measure compelled to it, are not likely to have the most beneficial effect. it is a useful thing occasionally to be able to quote scripture, and some of those who have spent a considerable portion of their lives in prison have stored their memory with a large and varied assortment of texts, which they are prepared to use when they think a profit is to be made thereby. a profession of reformation seems to have a more powerful effect when buttressed with texts of scripture, and an appeal for help on the part of the penitent is more likely to succeed when heard by the godly, many of whom are exceedingly kind to those who show a disposition to conform to their theological standards. persons whose sentences exceed fourteen days may have books from the prison library with which to beguile their time. the books provided resemble the clothing, in respect that it is greatly a matter of chance as to whether they suit the person who gets them. i have seen an illiterate lad from the slums hopelessly wrestling with an elementary manual on electricity and magnetism. i suppose this would be regarded as an educational work. the library is carefully selected with the intention of excluding all pernicious literature--certainly the sensational is passed by--but we all differ in our ideas as to the value of books; i myself would describe some popular works as pernicious literature; and many of the papers that one set of people appreciate and are able to read without apparent injury are of no use to others. the complaint which has been made that prison libraries contain a great deal of poor stuff, and do not contain a sufficient representation of the classic writers, leaves out of account the fact that these classic writers are more talked about than read. the popular novelist of to-day has a larger audience in his own generation than ever shakespeare had. the one writer is read during his lifetime, the other finds his audience all through the ages. in a prison, as in all institutions, the attempt is made to work to an average. when the educated person appears in prison let us refrain from insulting his intelligence by giving him books to read which he despises; but he must remember that others are not as he is, and that they may even derive stimulus and benefit from those works which can only annoy him. the untried prisoner may have newspapers and magazines sent in to him as well as books, unless, indeed, the visiting committee refuse to permit this. he can choose suitable literature for himself provided his friends are willing to send it to him, but immediately he is convicted he has no choice in the matter. the state is his librarian; and it seems a little absurd that the taxpayer should be charged for providing him with things which he does not want, and which can do him no good, if he or his friends could, at their own expense, procure him books he would enjoy. of late years lectures have been given to prisoners, and occasionally concerts have been provided for them. the lectures have been on all kinds of subjects. some of them have dealt with travel and have been illustrated by limelight views; others have dealt with sanitation, physiology, and the treatment of common ailments; others have taken the form of cookery demonstrations; and the prison audience is invariably more appreciative than most audiences outside. they enjoy anything that breaks the dulness of their routine life. no sensible person expects that the lectures will make them travellers, or physiologists, or cooks, though an interest in these subjects may be kindled by the lecturer. few people are ever lectured into a change of life, but anything that prevents them from sinking into apathy, from brooding on the petty incidents that go to make up their lives in prison, from beating against the bars of their cage, is beneficial. there are those who protest against making the prison too comfortable and who seem to believe that people want to go there. there need be no fear of this. a cage is a cage even though it be gilded, and they are few indeed who seek imprisonment. occasionally you have some saying they prefer the prison to the poorhouse. i have worked in both places and wholly agree with their preference, but that is not a testimony to the desirability of life in prison, but a reproach to the poorhouse. those who support efforts to lessen the monotony of prison life are not moved by any desire that the prisoners may have a good time. for my own part, i am not concerned to make their lot less mechanical merely for their sakes, but for the sake of the community of which they are a part. i believe that imprisonment has been shown to have a bad effect on those who suffer it, and as some day they are to be turned loose on the community, it is advisable to prevent them being liberated in a condition that would make them more dangerous to their fellow-citizens, or more troublesome, than they were before their arrest. outside the block of cells is an airing-yard, which consists of a space round which two narrow paved walks run. on these the prisoners take their exercise, each walking for an hour daily for the benefit of his health; separated by a space from the prisoner in front and the prisoner behind him, and watched by a warder lest any conversation or sign of recognition takes place between him and his fellows. the elderly or physically defective prisoners walk round the inner ring, where the pace is slower. some of the female prisoners undergo a course of instruction in swedish drill. their opinion is expressed in the name by which the exercise is known. it is called the "daft hour," and they enjoy it. as to its usefulness from an industrial standpoint the less said the better. it does no harm and it is a pleasant break in the day. in short, the prisoners are better employed in going through the drill than in doing something worse. chapter iv variations in routine the sick--prison hospitals--the removal of the sick to outside hospitals--the wisdom of this course--the essential difference between a prison and other public institutions--the treatment of refractory prisoners--the folly of assuming that rules are more sacred than persons--the position of the medical officer in relation to the prisoner--the danger of divided responsibility--the untried prisoner--his privileges--civil prisoners--imprisonment for contempt of court--the convict--short and long sentences. the system makes no provision for individual differences between prisoners and takes no account of the past training which has made them what they are, but it recognises physical differences. it is the duty of the medical officer to see that no one is overtaxed or underfed or insufficiently clothed, and to attend to any sickness that occurs. if a prisoner is insane he is removed to a lunatic asylum. if he is ill he is put under treatment. in the majority of cases the prison hospitals are simply larger and better-lit cells. they are free from anything but the roughest imitation of modern hospital appliances; but as there is no occasion for the treatment in them of prisoners suffering from acute serious illness, they are sufficient for the needs they are required to meet. what is required for the treatment of such as are sick is not so much stone and lime as flesh and blood. not new hospitals, but trained nurses. when a prisoner is reported sick or asks to see the doctor, he is automatically freed from the ordinary rules. if the medical man decides that there is nothing in his condition to warrant his being put on the sick list he falls back under prison discipline. if, however, he requires medical treatment, the medical officer may prescribe any regimen which he considers applicable to the case, and the governor has the instructions carried out. it may broadly be stated that cases requiring the constant attendance of a skilled nurse and those demanding serious operative treatment do not need to be treated in scottish prisons. section of the prisons (scotland) act, , enables the governor, in certain cases, to petition the sheriff for a warrant to remove sick prisoners to hospitals outside. he must present two medical certificates to the effect that the prisoner ( ) is suffering from a disease which threatens immediate danger to life and cannot be treated in prison, or ( ) a disease which makes his removal necessary for the health of the other inmates of the prison, or ( ) that continued confinement would endanger his life. this is one of the wisest provisions in the act. cases might occur in which the treatment required would be of such a character as to make it inadvisable to have it carried out in prison. assuming that there is no difference in the experience and skill of the prison doctors and their staff from that of the corresponding officials in the general hospital, the conditions in prison are essentially different. in a general hospital there are all sorts of people as patients, and their friends have access to them; it is a public place compared with the prison. the staff is subjected to continual criticism; not always enlightened, and sometimes unfair, but it exercises a healthy effect on their actions. there is no greater danger to the public than the uncontrolled specialist; and it is a bad thing for him if he is led into any belief either in the infallibility of his judgment, or in its necessary applicability to the case with which he deals. he can perform no operation without the consent of the patient or his friends, even though he believe that operation is necessary to the saving of life. there are cases in which this permission is refused in spite of all the persuasions of the medical man; and in some of these cases, contrary to expectation, the patient gets well. in others death takes place where life might have been saved had consent to the necessary treatment been obtained; yet it would be an intolerable condition of affairs if the medical man were to have his patients placed at the discretion of his judgment; and no one would propose that the inmates of a hospital should be compelled to submit to any treatment that the doctors in their wisdom might see fit to prescribe. in a neighbouring country lately the question of compulsory treatment was raised. all the information i have with regard to it has been obtained from the statements, official and otherwise, which have been published. these statements may have been imperfect, but only from them can the public form an opinion, the statements contradict each other, and as they refer to incidents which took place in a prison--a place to which ordinary members of the public have no access--they are bound to leave an uneasy feeling in the mind of the impartial observer. certain women, impelled by the desire to advance a political measure, engaged in conduct which brought them into conflict with the authorities. it was claimed on their behalf that they had committed a political offence, and in that respect differed from other criminals; but all offences are political offences. whether a woman strikes a man because she is angry with him, or because she is angry with a cabinet minister whom she does not know, she commits an assault which is a crime in the eyes of the law. her motive may differ in the one case from the other, but its issue has no difference; and in both cases, in so far as the state takes notice of it, it is a political offence. distinctions between offences can only end in confusion; distinctions between offenders have never been sufficiently recognised; and no real progress can ever be made in the treatment of the criminal until the differences between one person and another are taken into account. there can be no question that in character, in training, and in their previous history, these women differed widely from the ordinary prisoner, and all the trouble which resulted was due to the failure of those in authority to act upon their knowledge of this fact. that the conduct for which many of the women were sent to prison was unreasonable, few will deny; but it was no more unreasonable than the treatment they received. if they behaved like mad people, so did the officials. the only way in which one person can show greater wisdom than another is by conduct. if the women were hysterical, the officials did not exactly shine as examples of calmness. the highly strung person who glories in what she believes to be martyrdom, who sees everything in the light of her own ideals, is not likely to be brought to another frame of mind by receiving the treatment which she regards as persecution. these women had made it necessary that they should be restrained from annoying others by their conduct; but it mattered nothing to the public that they should be restrained in a certain way; what did matter was that the nuisance should be effectively stopped. that the method of dealing with them increased the trouble is beyond question; and there is no justification for interference with anybody except in so far as the method adopted has the result desired. it is folly, if not worse, to enter upon any course that cannot be carried on indefinitely. if your treatment fails to achieve the end aimed at, that is bad; if it results in the person with whom you are dealing beating you, that is worse. the law attempted to frighten the women, and the women, by their continued resistance, frightened the administrators of the law. which presented the most sorry spectacle it is hard to say. the trouble seems to have begun through the refusal on the part of the authorities to allow the women to wear their own clothing. what harm it would have done to anybody to grant this permission it is difficult to see. if they had fed themselves and clothed themselves it would have saved expense to the public. they believed that the clothing was intended to degrade them; and they might have asked, if that was not the intention, why was the proceeding insisted on? of course, to permit them to save the state the expense of keeping them while they were in custody would have upset the system; but the system is far from being considered by those who are responsible for its administration to be anything approaching perfection, for it is a fashionable thing amongst them to ask for its improvement, and to justify changes, when they make them, on the ground that they were required. opposition grew with repression; unreason provoked unreason, and the public heard with considerable uneasiness that a hunger strike was taking place, and that the strikers were being artificially fed. in certain physical diseases resort to artificial feeding may be necessary, but prisoners suffering from these diseases are not fit for prison discipline and should be treated in a hospital outside. among the insane are those who obstinately refuse to take food, and therefore require to be fed; but an insane person differs from a prisoner in this important respect, that in the eyes of the law he is free from responsibility and has no will of his own. his friends are permitted access to him. they may, and sometimes do, interfere with the discretion of the medical attendant, and in any case his actions are within their supervision and criticism. medical men assume that self-preservation is a primal instinct, and that the person who deliberately sets out to maim himself or to destroy his life is insane, even although intellectually he may appear to be quite sound. if a man become possessed by religious zeal and set out to convert his neighbours to his views, he may incidentally be a considerable nuisance to them. he may stand at street corners and annoy the surrounding inhabitants by his exhortation; but, in glasgow at any rate, they put up with this on account of the good intention they ascribe to him. if, however, he gives up his business, and prevents other people from attending to theirs by calling on them and arguing with them, people begin to suspect his sanity; and the man who would throw a brick into another's office at the risk of hurting some of the people employed there, in order to convince their principal that if he did not accept the religion the missionary preached he would go to hell, would probably be dealt with as a lunatic. the conduct of some of the women was quite as eccentric, but people may do insane-like things without being insane. that, however, is no reason for disregarding their eccentricities, which should be taken into account when dealing with them. if the women required to be fed artificially, it by no means follows that it was a proper thing to do so in prison. it certainly was indiscreet, and it is difficult to see how, if it was justifiable to resort to this measure in order to save the life of a prisoner, it could be argued that a medical officer would not be equally justified in cutting off the injured or diseased arm of a prisoner, in spite of his protestations, in order to save his life. it is one thing to place the liberties of men, and another thing altogether to place their lives in the hands of officials. there is no official and no number of officials--by whatever name called--good enough to be entrusted, unchecked by public observation, with the lives of their fellow-citizens; and there is no criminal bad enough to be immured from the public gaze and placed wholly under the control of anyone. it is not that the officials are bad; they are no worse than unofficial persons and no better, and there is far more danger from those who have gained a reputation for humanity and for enlightened opinions, even when they have deserved the reputation, than from the others, because the former are likely to be left more to themselves on account of their good name. few who read this could be trusted to do as good a day's work at the end of the year as they did at the beginning, if there were not someone to check and criticise them. here and there, now and then, there are violent outcry and excitement because of some administrative scandal, and there is seldom much in it; but there is no continued and intelligent interest in administration on the part of the public. if a man do not fulfil his contract his employer may accept an excuse once or even twice; but if his failure continue he will find himself out of a job, and someone less incompetent or unfortunate will be sought and put in his place. in the public service excuses and exceptions are so much the rule that it would be easy to form a library of blue books containing them, printed and paid for at the public expense. only ordinary cases of domestic sickness need be treated in prison, and such ailments or injuries as are dealt with in the outdoor department of a general hospital. in scotland there is little inducement to prisoners to feign sickness, as there is no automatic change in their diet or location as a result of their being placed on the sick list. the doctor may or may not remove them from their cells and alter their diet. so far as the act of parliament is concerned the treatment of the sick lies wholly in his discretion, and there is no power granted to any authority to interfere with or overturn his decision. he may be questioned as to the reason for his conduct; and if foolish enough or weak enough to be persuaded into altering it, in order to please some higher official, he may do so; but the act of parliament is absolutely specific in the matter, and refers the sick not to the commissioners, but to the surgeon of the prison. it is much easier for a man to carry out an instruction received from above, than to assert and act on the powers conferred on him by statute; but it is not right to do so, and in so far as he is subservient he is unfaithful to his trust. patients cannot be treated by correspondence. no man, however highly placed, is infallible. better that the man on the spot should accept his responsibilities frankly, even though he do make mistakes, than that he should look to someone who is not present to direct him in a case of difficulty. no medical man need want for help from his neighbours, and he can easily get someone of approved skill to assist him in the diagnosis or treatment of a difficult case. it is quite proper that his actions should be scrutinised, but it is quite wrong that the scrutiny should take place in private. the statute has recognised this principle, and has ordered that a public enquiry should take place on the occasion of the death of any prisoner in prison. the relatives of the prisoner are there entitled to put any questions to the officials, personally or through an agent; and the sheriff has to be satisfied that all reasonable care and skill have been exercised in the case. private official enquiries give opportunity for petty persecution on the part of any jack-in-office who fancies his abilities are equal to his position, and whose spleen may be raised against better men than himself. no man eminent in his profession would be likely to be guilty of such conduct, but the occupation of some positions does not necessarily imply professional eminence, though it may infer social influence. the medical officer has not an arduous task in treating the sick. his work practically consists of patching up old offenders, in the knowledge that he is prolonging their lives and their uselessness, to the injury of the public. many of them would have been dead long ago as the result of their excesses had they not been interfered with. it is well that their lives should be prolonged and their health improved, but only if some security is taken that they use their powers to better purpose in the future than they have done in the past. there is no sense in the state doing anything for anybody without a reasonable guarantee that the person benefited will not use the benefit to the injury of the community. many are cured of diseases in various public institutions, and turned loose to live on others for the rest of their lives. there is an increasing number of young people who, having suffered from some serious illness, have been saved from death, but have been left permanently crippled to some extent in one or other of their organs. they are not fit for the work they once engaged in, but they are fit for some work, and so far as can be seen, they have no intention of performing any. a number of them drift to the prison and on the strength of their infirmity try to get special treatment. the special treatment they require cannot be had there, nor is there any place at present where it can be had. the untried prisoner is permitted to wear his own clothing, provided it is clean and that he can have it changed with sufficient frequency. he may hire furniture and pay for the cleaning of his cell. he may have visits from those of his friends he desires to see; and he may correspond with them, provided that in the conversation and correspondence there is nothing said or written regarding the charge against him. all letters to and from him are read and censored on behalf of the governor. prisoners are not allowed to see and converse with their friends without the presence of a prison official. the prisoner is put in a box with a latticed front, and his visitor is placed in another box opposite. between the two boxes there is space for a warder to move. he can see the occupants of both boxes, each of whom can only see the person in the box opposite. when a number of prisoners are having visitors at the same time, there is a shouting and gabbling that makes conversation difficult. convicted prisoners and convicts of the first class may receive a letter and a visit from a friend once in three months, provided their conduct and industry have been satisfactory. before their entry into the first class convicts may receive one, two, or three letters and visits in the year, according to the class they have reached. after being a year in the first class they may be placed in a special class, receiving a letter and a visit once in two months. the prisoner sees his agent in view of but outwith the hearing of the warder. he may have his food sent in to him by his friends, provided it is sufficient in quality and amount, but he may not have part of a meal sent in. he may also receive newspapers, magazines, or books. any or all of these privileges may be granted or withdrawn at the discretion of the visiting committee. it is questionable whether it is right that they should be granted as privileges. the man is, in the eyes of the law, presumed to be innocent of the offence charged against him; and his detention is only justifiable on the ground that he might fail to appear at court for trial. that being so, he ought not to require permission from any committee or official before he is allowed to feed, clothe, and amuse himself; and he should only be prevented from doing so if his act is detrimental to his own health or that of the other inmates of the prison. this might cause more trouble to the officials concerned, but the primary object of the system ought not to be the saving them trouble. the untried prisoner may have a pint of wine or a pint of beer daily, but on no account is he permitted to smoke. this is a curious restriction nowadays, and there is not the faintest show of reason for its exercise. the proper attitude towards the untried prisoner is not that implied in the question "why should he be allowed to do this?" the question ought always to be "why should he not be allowed to do what he wishes?" and this would be the question if the theory that presumes an untried prisoner's innocence were put in practice. he is detained for the convenience of the public, not for his own, and his liberty should be curtailed as little as possible consistent with good order. there are very few civil prisoners in scotland. failure to pay aliment may entail on a prisoner imprisonment, at the instance and expense of his creditor, for a period of six weeks. at the end of that time the prisoner is free from similar proceedings for six months, but the costs are added to his original debt. he has some of the privileges of an untried prisoner. failure to pay taxes may cause a man to be imprisoned under similar conditions. persons sent to prison for failing to have their children vaccinated are treated by the same rule, and persons condemned to indefinite imprisonment for contempt of court. in scotland we claim that we do not imprison for debt other than aliment, rates, or taxes; but the rule is evaded by process of law, and the prison commissioners are used as debt collectors in some cases. technically this is not so, but in practice it occurs. x , a woman, has obtained jewellery on the hire-purchase system. she is the wife of a labouring man, and there is room for the suspicion that she has been tempted by the seller. a number of payments are made, then the husband loses his employment, and she is not only cut off from the means of paying her instalments, but has not money to get food. she pawns or otherwise disposes of the jewellery, and is called upon either to pay for it or return it. her intention may be to pay, but she is not able. she is summoned to appear at court, and fails to do so. in her absence a decree is granted ordaining her to deliver the jewellery to the person from whom she obtained it, in terms of the contract made between them. failing to do this, she is seized and carried off to prison, on a warrant obtained for contempt of court, inasmuch as she had not obeyed its decree. all her friends become alarmed, and by their united efforts the money to satisfy the creditor may be obtained. if this is not done she may be kept in prison for an indefinite period at his expense. had she contracted a debt with the grocer for food, or with a dressmaker for clothing, they could not have imprisoned her if she did not pay them, even though they desired to do so. they are thus at a serious disadvantage, so far as the exercise of pressure is concerned, compared with the hire-purchase trader; but the ingenious among them who regret the abolition of imprisonment for debt may revive it in effect by selling groceries and clothes on a hire-purchase contract. the routine treatment to which the convict is subjected is much more severe than that which is applied to the ordinary prisoner, and it does as little good.[ ] it is a system of repression mainly; a sitting on the safety-valve that is apt to provoke outbursts of temper and violence resulting in assault. these may be punished with the lash. a power which is not possessed by the judges of the high court is granted to the prison commissioners. it is considered necessary in order to maintain the system, but as no one claims that the system is in any degree reformatory, it becomes a question whether it is worth maintaining. [ ] the diet for convicts is more generous than that for ordinary prisoners, however. male convicts whose conduct and industry have been satisfactory may be liberated on license when three-fourths of their sentence has been served. female convicts in like circumstances may be liberated on license after serving two-thirds of their sentence. the same man who is at one time a convicted prisoner in an ordinary prison may at another time be undergoing penal servitude. while he is in an ordinary prison there is neither power nor occasion to order him the severe punishments which may be inflicted on convicts. if he need the lash when he is sent to penal servitude, there is at least the presumption that the cause lies as much in the character of the life he is compelled to lead as in the character of the man. the more punishment inflicted on prisoners in a prison the stronger the probability is that the place is badly managed. repression is necessary, no doubt, but repressive powers should only co-exist with power to reward. even a donkey will go further after a carrot than when driven by a stick. it never does any good to a man to treat him as a machine, and the tendency to do so under the name of discipline is a root vice of the system. in the convict prison, as in the ordinary prison, during the last few years the grinding mechanical routine has been relaxed, and the amazing discovery has been made that it is easier and better to manage men if you recognise that they are men than to regard them as mere numbers. there has even been talk of reformation resulting from the changes that have taken place, and to judge by some magazine and newspaper articles from the pens of enthusiastic and ignorant visitors, one would think the prison had become a kind of paradise. that other men's behaviour towards us will largely be determined on our behaviour towards them is no new discovery, and that more considerate treatment by officials should result in better conduct on the part of prisoners need surprise no one; but that this better conduct necessarily implies that they will live in conformity with the laws when liberated does not follow at all. you may improve a man's conduct in prison as you may improve his mental condition in a lunatic asylum, but you never know how he will behave outside until you put him there; and if we acted on the knowledge of this fact we should see that persons liberated from any institution are placed in proper positions outside--that they should be guided and helped in so far as they need guidance and help--so that there would be less excuse for their recurring to their old habits and conduct, and less chance of their relapse into the condition and actions for which we have dealt with them. of late years short sentences have been generally denounced on the ground that there is no time to reform a prisoner who is only under the influence of the system for a few days. this would be a reasonable objection if those who are sent to prison for long periods were thereby made better, but that is precisely what cannot be shown; for the longer a person is in prison the less fit he is on liberation to take his place in the community. so that if short sentences are bad, long sentences are worse, from the standpoint of the reformer. a person sent to prison for a few days is usually the cleaner for his experience. imprisonment has kept him off the streets for a time. it has also caused him to lose his job, and, as usually the short-time prisoner is not a person of means, his position is worse after his imprisonment than it was before. he has to earn his living by his work, if he would avoid coming into conflict with the law; and if he has no means of livelihood it is easy to see that he will find it difficult to avoid recommittal. in this respect the long-sentence prisoner resembles him, but in addition he has acquired habits in prison that are a hindrance to him outside. chapter v the prisoner on liberation his condition--his need--alleged persecution of ex-prisoners-- discharged prisoners' aid societies--work--temptations--the discharged female offender--the attitude of women towards her--"homes"--the women's objections to them--pay--the religious atmosphere and the harmful associations--the effect of imprisonment. while in prison a man has been cut off from the life of the world. he has had no visits from his friends save once in three months, and as there is no newspaper which he is permitted to see, he is ignorant of any changes that may have occurred during the time of his incarceration. those who have at any time been confined to the house by sickness may dimly appreciate his condition. although they may have been visited by their friends; kept in touch with social movements in which they were interested; and generally helped to a knowledge of passing events of interest; they must have found something strange in the aspect of things when they were first allowed out. even after a holiday it takes a man some little time to get the hang of his work. in the case of the liberated prisoner the difficulty is greatly aggravated. he may find that during his seclusion friends have died or have left the district, and if a first offender who feels the degradation he has brought on himself, he is likely to be sensitive as to the bearing of others towards him. he needs help; he dreads rebuff; and he does not know where to seek assistance. he may readily misinterpret the attitude of others towards him and imagine that men whom he has known are giving him the cold shoulder, when, in fact, they have not seen him. he has been shut off from the company of others, and he feels the need of fellowship with someone. he can always have that from those who, like himself, have been through the mill; and he may be led by them into further mischief. our interference with the offender results in his removal, for a time, from the associations and habits to which he has been accustomed; to that extent the power over him of these associations and habits may be weakened; but no matter where we put him, we cannot hinder him from learning new habits, and these may or may not be useful to him on his liberation. the more powerful the influence of his later interests the less likely he is to seek to return to his old pursuits. the thing which no man can do without is fellowship or comradeship of some sort. he will seek it even although in the process he may be injured thereby; and it is because drink makes the company of some men more tolerable to each other that so many take it. it is not so much that they wish to get drunk; they could do that alone; and at first, at any rate, the drink is not taken merely to intoxicate, but largely to stimulate sociability. the person who has been pent up in an institution for a prolonged period has not learned habits of a sociable character, but quite the contrary; and when he gets out he knows that he will more easily become a part of good company if he takes drink, for thereby he will be set free from the feeling of restraint to which he has been subjected. there has been a great deal of talk about police persecution of liberated prisoners. in some cases the official zeal of a policeman may cause him to act towards an ex-prisoner with a harshness he does not intend, but in most cases the persecution only exists in the imagination of its subject. few of us see all things as they are. we are influenced by our beliefs quite apart from their foundation in fact, and this is shown in all our actions. we see men believing in others in spite of evidence which we think ought to undeceive them; and people have been known to get married under a quite mistaken estimate of each other's character. so long as the discharged prisoner believes that the world is against him, that the hand of the representative of the law is raised to oppress him, his actions will be influenced by that belief; and he may be driven to despair as a consequence. i do not think that policemen generally have any ill-feeling towards offenders; but officially there is no encouragement for any personal feeling on their part, good or bad. theirs is an unenviable position. we make no real attempt to investigate the cause of wrongdoing and to prevent crime by a rational method. should a policeman interfere before an offence has been committed, the motive of his interference will as often as not be misinterpreted and he will be denounced as a busybody. in practice we encourage him to believe that it is his main duty to arrest offenders and he does his best to discharge this duty. it is too much to expect that between him and those whom he is set to hunt there can be any likelihood of mutual regard. as enemies each may have a respect for the other, but friendship and friendly help are out of the question. unfortunately this fact has been left out of account in some recent proposals for the prevention of crime and the reformation of the offender. in connection with all the prisons there are discharged prisoners' aid societies, which seek to help those whose sentences have expired. the number of these societies is increasing; but in glasgow, praiseworthy as are their efforts, they are quite unable to undertake the work that requires to be done. in practice the societies mainly consist of their officials, and these are few and hardworking. they try to get situations for discharged prisoners and to influence them towards a better way of living. sometimes their efforts meet with success, but they have far too much to do. their resources are small, and they are hampered by want of funds, but more by want of helpers. they struggle on valiantly in spite of discouragement, and do what lies in their power to prevent those with whom they come in contact from becoming worse than they otherwise would be. when a prisoner is liberated it is not always an easy matter for him to find work. the fact of his having been in prison is not a recommendation to anyone who would employ him. when work is found for him by the agents of one of the societies which help discharged prisoners, his position may be a somewhat difficult one. it is not every place where he can be employed without objection on the part of his fellow-workers. as men they recognise the need for charity and tolerance towards their neighbours, but prison has such an evil sound to them that they are prejudiced against the person who has been there. when this prejudice is overcome there is usually a reaction in the ex-prisoner's favour, resulting in conduct towards him that may be as embarrassing in its way as any springing from the prejudice against him. at the best he is liable to be placed in an atmosphere of suspicion that does not help him to do well. the consciousness that he has been degraded is harmful to his sense of self-respect, and altogether it is not easy for him to find suitable companionship. wisdom would counsel him to avoid the company of those who have been associated with him in the conduct that led to his fall, but the counsels of wisdom are not always easy to follow. there are very many who are willing to give assistance to a man who seeks to turn over a new leaf, but they expect to direct him as to what shall be written on the next page. if censure and avoidance may irritate and hurt a man who has been convicted of wrongdoing, patronage may raise a spirit of opposition in him. he does not want to be looked down upon, whether with contempt or with compassion. of course, he ought to be chastened by his affliction; he ought to be repentant and submissive; he ought to do what he is told; but it is not what ought to be that requires consideration if we would help him to do better, but what is. in spite of their vicious acts, it is never an evidence of wisdom to assume that vicious people are greater fools than others. that they behave foolishly, from the standpoint of their own and our interest, is quite true, and so apparent that it needs no emphasis. the question is, do we, who are so much wiser than they, show that wisdom in our treatment of them? and the answer, evidenced by the result of our attitude towards them, furnishes no strong testimony in our favour. when a man has gone wrong it may be generally assumed that there is something in him that has made him unfit to resist the temptations incident to his position. if this assumption be correct it follows that we are not warranted in expecting from him the same power of resistance as others have shown. we are not justified in assuming that with proper assistance his character and powers may not improve, but it is hardly reasonable to expect conduct from him that would be more saintly than our own; and a great many disappointments are suffered by earnest people who seek to lift up the fallen, simply because they have expected too much. when efforts to help a man result in failure it is a safe working rule to assume that the fault is at least as much in the nature of the means employed as in the man. they may have been very good means, but they have not been applicable in the case; which is just to say that the result is the test of their suitability. this is all so obvious that in practice it is disregarded, and we persist in the foolish assumption that people on whom our patent pills fail to act are incorrigible; though the fact is that the offender is no more incorrigible than the reformer, and is sometimes not so stupid. the position of the man who has been in prison is not so bad as that of the woman who has been there. there can be no question that women less frequently break the laws than men. this may or may not be evidence of superior virtue on the part of women, but the fact itself makes the position of the woman who has fallen more difficult to retrieve. she is more conspicuous than the male offender, if only because there are fewer of her kind, and the attitude of women towards her is less tolerant than the attitude of men, either towards her or towards those of their own sex who have offended. accordingly, when a woman once loses her reputation she is more liable than a man to accept the position and to sink under her disgrace; so that the fallen woman is regarded by many as the most degraded of beings, and her rescue has a fascination for those who seek to aid the worst. this conception is absurd, as everyone knows who has studied the subject with open eyes, but the question is one that cannot be faithfully dealt with here. the economic position of the woman who has broken away from the standards set by the law need not be, and often is not, worse than that she held before her revolt. it all depends on what she was and how she has rebelled. vice as little as virtue determines the economic position of those who are subject to it. the transgressor by her transgression is cut off from her class, and she is in danger of failing to gain a footing in any other. she may, and in the majority of cases does, glide out of her folly as she has slipped into it; but when she is publicly branded her chances of recovery are less than those of a man. the attitude of men towards her may be insolent, but it is rarely so brutal as that of women; and it is no uncommon thing to find that the most effective help towards the restoration of a woman has been given by those among her male friends whose character would least bear scrutiny by a censor of morals. the attitude of her sex towards the woman who is down is generally one of hostility. whether something of the instinct of self-preservation inspires this need not be here discussed; but it is abundantly clear that the woman whose fall has been publicly recognised cannot hope to resume anything like her old place, even if she were willing to seek it. her recognition as a respectable woman is too frequently made contingent on her acceptance of a form of religion that enables her past to be always referred to, and herself held up as a brand plucked from the burning. in her attitude towards women she is affected by this knowledge, and their appeal to her loses in effect because of it. there is nothing more difficult than the treatment of these women. the prejudice against them is so strong that it is only here and there a family is willing to take in and look after one of them. attempts are made to influence and direct such women as have no friends, by placing them in homes. no doubt the inmates are much better there than they would be if turned on the streets or living in common lodging-houses; but they do not commend themselves to those whom it is sought to rescue; for the majority of them will say quite frankly that it is "not good enough." they prefer to struggle along as best they may rather than submit to the life offered them. it always appears ungracious to criticise the work of those who are earnestly engaged in trying to help others, but it is fair that the view of those they seek to help should be presented. their view may be a wrong one, but until it is altered it will affect their conduct; and it cannot be too emphatically insisted on that the opinions of those whom we seek to help should be considered, and when possible acted upon, if it is hoped to render effective aid. the first objection a girl makes to entering a rescue home is that she must bind herself to remain there for a prolonged period. she does not regard the home as a desirable place of residence, but as a step towards restoration to a decent position in the community. she objects to give her work for twelve months, say, getting no other pay than her board, clothing, and lodging, unless she remains in the institution for that time. she claims that she might as well be in prison. the girl is not concerned with the question whether the home pays others or not; she is concerned with the fact that it does not pay her. loss of reputation hinders a girl from getting a situation, even when she is willing to drop her way of living and revert to steady work. people who pay well quite naturally prefer not to make an experiment and seek to have their money's worth, which implies not only an efficient, but a steady and reliable worker. the situations open to the penitent, therefore, are those which are worst paid. when she gains a character she may obtain more remunerative occupation elsewhere. she recognises that on account of her bad reputation she has to do more work for less money, but she does not so readily admit that it is just that it should be so. she thinks that it is one thing for an ordinary person to take advantage of her needs and to underpay her, while it is quite another thing for a christian institution to keep her working for insufficient wages. in the home she has as hard work and almost as little liberty as she would have were she in prison. her associates are girls like herself, with whom she can converse on a basis of equality and discourse on life from a similar standpoint. on the other hand, she is preached to, patronised by visitors, entertained in a very proper manner, and taught in a thousand indirect ways that she is different from them. if her associates do not help her to forget her past, neither do her teachers. they want to be kind, and try to be considerate; the effort is obvious. in a gentle way they may tell the girls what they think of them and how much need there is for their reformation, and they do not seem to see that they would come more closely in contact with those they seek to help if they would assume the things they express by word and attitude, and try to draw the girls out. the defect in the teacher is too often a habit of talking at his pupils. the girls are there to learn; the visitors to teach. are they? what do the girls learn, and what do the visitors teach? that we are all sinners and our position a perilous one; that some of us have been found out and that the penalty should be accepted humbly as being for our good, and so on. if the formula is somewhat stereotyped that is not my fault. the girls who appear to submit most patiently are naturally regarded as most hopeful. what they think about it all does not appear to be considered of much importance. they are wrong or they would not be there; and yet a girl may make a mess of her life in one direction, and be none the less qualified to give a shrewd and useful opinion on the causes of her failure. if those who seek to teach them had less faith in their own doctrine and more desire to learn, they would become less ignorant and would teach to better purpose. here and there some know this, and acting on the knowledge, are more successful than others who are equally pious, equally well-intentioned, but less well-informed. one quite recognises that it cannot be charged against the majority of these institutions that they make money by the girls. they are often carried on at a financial loss, for the cost is considerable; but reformatory work cannot be conducted on a commercial basis. it is in the nature of things that it should not pay its way in the narrow sense. the cost of adequate supervision prevents this. but to charge the cost of attempts at their reformation to the girls is to inflict at least an apparent injustice on them that is apt to rankle in their minds, and to drive away a number who would otherwise be helped--helped at a pecuniary loss to the home, but at a great benefit to the community. after all, they are earning their own living by their work. what they fail to do is to earn a living for those who govern them. in exchange for their work they are not permitted to spend their earnings as they please, but as it pleases those who have undertaken to look after them. there may be something to be said for the opinion that if one set of persons seek to direct the lives of another they should be prepared to pay for the privilege; but this subject of charity is one that needs examination. some people have very quaint ideas regarding it. i remember a decent woman who rather prided herself on her goodness. her husband had a small business, and she occasionally requisitioned the services of his younger apprentices for assistance at cleaning time. on such an afternoon a newsboy coming to the door, she got a _citizen_ from him, gave him a penny, and received back the halfpenny of change. when he had gone she remarked to one of the apprentices--a boy with a genius for saying the right thing in the wrong place--"puir boy, i just take the paper from him for charity." to which he replied, "aye, but ye took the halfpenny back!" there was something to be said for both views, but the boy had the last word, and he soon found that his criticism had borne fruit; he was dismissed. in the home there is more of a religious atmosphere and less mechanical routine than in prison; but the religious atmosphere is as much objected to by many of the girls as the mechanical routine. both may be good for them from the standpoint of the theorist, but neither seems to result in the effect desired. in the prison there are fewer lectures and fewer visits to the inmates than in the home, and the life is more monotonous, but in the prison there is less opportunity for contamination. in both places the old and degraded, the young and the ignorant, may be confined, but in the prison they are separated. it is quite a mistake to imagine that the vice and degradation--that the state of morals--of a person can be estimated by her age and the number of her convictions. the old hand need not be so morally corrupt as the younger, though her experiences may have been more numerous and varied. a common statement of those who have been inmates of homes is that what they did not know when they went in they learned before they came out, and certainly they have opportunities of communicating their experiences and relating their adventures while they are in a home that they do not have while they are in prison. this is a thing that cannot be prevented so long as people live together. that many have been restored after passing through the homes is undoubtedly the case, but it does not follow that their restoration was due to their experience there. that many have not been improved, but have been the worse for their residence there, is not at all to be wondered at. where a religious atmosphere has affected them favourably the disadvantages inherent to the establishment have been overcome. where it has failed to effect a change in them for good the other associations tend to confirm them in evil. what effect, then, has imprisonment on those who undergo it? it usually improves their health physically, but impairs their mental capacity. the simple life favours the former; separation and destruction of the sense of initiative favour the latter. many do not return after a first experience, and it is assumed that they have been deterred from wrongdoing by it; but there is absolutely no ground for this assumption. it may be justified in some cases, but in others there is no reason to suppose that the offender would have repeated his offence, even though he had never been sent to prison for it. imperfectly as probation of offenders is worked, it has shown this. indeed, the very imperfection of the method has shown it the more strongly, for so far from the offender having been taken away from the conditions which incited him to commit his transgression, he has been sent back to them, and in many cases has not again offended. it is not right to make assumptions when there is opportunity of examining the facts; and no enquiry has been made as to the effect of imprisonment in deterring those who have been in prison and have not returned for repeating their offence. a great many do return, and that is positive evidence that their imprisonment has not had a deterrent effect on them. why do they return? in some cases they have found that prison is not such a horrible place after all, and that though the confinement is irksome the time passes; and at the expiry of their sentence they may do what they like. many of them have to work hard and long to earn a living when outside, and they learn that they can pick up a living at less cost and have a better time, if they take the risk of being shut up now and again. they have been cut off from their habits, which may not have been a bad thing, and have acquired other habits which do not help them when they are liberated. they have been officially marked with disgrace, and to that extent rendered less able to secure employment and good company. they have been taught to be respectful and obedient, but they have lost, in a corresponding degree to their improvement in manners, their power to act for themselves. in some respects they are better, in others worse, than they were when they were taken in hand; and on the balance there is a distinct loss. recent attempts at reformation have not taken into account the root causes of failure, and they fail to recognise that the longer a person is cut off from the main current of life in the community the less he is fitted to return to it. chapter vi the inebriate home the need to find out why people do wrong before attempting to cure them--enquiries as to inebriety--the inebriates--official utterances--cost and results--the grievance of the unreformed--the time limit of cure--the causes of failure--the fostering of old associations--the prospect of the future spree--the institution habit. it cannot be seriously contended that our methods of dealing with offenders make for their reform. it may be that some of those who do not return to prison have been checked in their career by the treatment they have received, but as a matter of fact, there are a great many people sent to prison who ought never to have been there at all. in my opinion it is beyond dispute that our methods result in the making of criminals; that in the majority of cases imprisonment not only does no good, but does positive and serious harm. it should not be forgotten, however, that there is no ground for supposing that the prison system is intended to reform those who come within its operation. it keeps them off the street for a time and prevents them from annoying those who are at liberty; but this cannot be done without financial cost to the community, and it is only done at a very serious loss in other respects. the same amount of money spent in helping them to do well as it costs to imprison them for doing ill, would prevent many of them from offending; but before this could be done more would require to be known regarding the individuals than the mere fact that they have offended against one or other of our laws. it is necessary not only to find out where and how the criminal has gone wrong, but also where and why we have gone wrong in our method of treating him. profitable as it would be, no serious attempt has been made to do this. the most that is done is to admit the inefficacy of prison treatment and to devise some theoretical improvement on it. it seems easier for some people to reason _in vacuo_--in their own heads--than to examine the facts and face the consequences. of late years the public has permitted one institution after another to be foisted on it at the bidding of people who have not shown even the most elementary knowledge of the subject with which they were dealing, and of faddists who want to regulate other men's lives by their own. their opinion of the offender may be interesting and it may have a value different from what they place upon it; but it is not nearly as interesting, as helpful, or as valuable as the offender's own opinion of the cause of his fall and of his needs. the imprisonment and reimprisonment of the habitual offender had become a scandal. it was recognised that inebriety made men and women a danger and a nuisance to the family and their neighbours, but no greater a nuisance than the system by which we dealt with them. everybody agreed that imprisonment made them no better. it made them abstainers only for the time they were in custody, but it did nothing to destroy the desire for drink. so an act of parliament was passed to enable them to be placed in an institution of another sort. if the prison failed to reform them, the inebriate homes have proved a more costly, a more ghastly failure. instead of finding out the cause of the failure, a departmental committee, after examining anybody but those who had been in the homes, has recommended that further parliamentary powers should be granted to the committees managing them and courts sending inmates to them. the rational method of procedure would have been for intelligent and impartial persons to examine those cases which had been improved, and to estimate how far the improvement was due to the treatment received. this would not have been a difficult task, for the cases were few; and having accomplished it, it would have been equally profitable to examine the many cases of failure and to seek the causes of that failure. it is much easier, however, to collect the opinions of officials, of philanthropists, of those who are interested in prescribing for the conduct of others--in short, of people who are called authorities on a given subject, because nobody has been bold enough to challenge them--than to obtain the confidence and open the mouths of those whose wrongdoing it is sought to correct. it is a grotesque statement that the inebriate home failed because the wrong people were sent to it; also it is not true. it would be nearer the mark to say that the home failed because it was not suited for the treatment of inebriates. for after all, the very people for whom it was designed to afford treatment were among those sent there. the patients chosen for treatment in the inebriate home were carefully selected by a physician experienced in the treatment of mental diseases. some of them were mentally affected as a consequence of their drunkenness, and there is room for supposing that some took to drink partly on account of a mental defect; but inebriety is not a physical disease, it is not a mental disease, although it may have some relationship to physical and mental diseases. it was because of its being a social disorder that the state undertook to consider these persons. this being so, each case could only be rationally considered in relation to the social condition of the inebriate. information about the state of their various internal organs might be useful, but it could never replace in importance or interest information as to their social condition. the treatment failed because it was not adapted to the persons to be treated, but was adapted to the state of mind of those who, on the strength either of an academic qualification, or a belief in their fitness to judge people who are of a lower social condition, had prescribed a method without any real knowledge of the persons to whom they sought to apply it. the public pays too much attention to the utterances of those in authority, and it is difficult to avoid the habit of mistaking for knowledge what is only a different kind of ignorance from our own. a thing is not true because somebody says it; it may be true in spite of that; but it would repay the trouble were official utterances more closely scrutinised than they are. zeal, honesty, integrity, may be present in the official, and he may be a very talented man as well, and yet he may lead matters into a sad mess. the less he is questioned, the more he is suffered to go on unchecked, the worse for him and for those whose servant he is. the good servant may become a very bad master. then all official persons are not equally able. if a man has not wit, it is not likely to be developed in him by giving him a title or a uniform. if he has not much wisdom, he is not likely to become less foolish even though you place him in the seat of solomon. the fact that a man holds a position is not proof of his fitness to fill it; and respect for an office makes it all the more incumbent on honest men to scrutinise and criticise the actions of the person who occupies it. loyalty to the public service is too often confused with servility to those in the upper ranks, resulting in something very like a conspiracy to magnify their importance (which would be a small matter), and to induce the public to attach an undue weight to what they say, though their statements may appear foolish enough. all this is quite heterodox doctrine, and in practice will not tend to make a man's path smooth; but the orthodox method of assuming that the higher in authority a person is, the abler and wiser he must be, has not resulted so satisfactorily that it should escape challenge. the official reports of girgenti inebriate home were a great deal more satisfactory than the results, and the home might have been in existence yet if the representatives of the public had not informed themselves of the real state of affairs. a few cures are put to its credit at a calamitous expense. the cost of keeping a woman there amounted to between twenty-five and thirty shillings per week, and the odds were proved to be against her being reformed after three years' treatment. in other words, the public were guaranteed that all persons sent to the home could be kept sober at a cost of from sixty-five to eighty pounds each per year, but they had no reason to believe that when this payment ceased on their part the patient would take her place in the community and remain a sober citizen. if she was not made better, did she become worse as a result of her treatment there? in some respects she did. you cannot meddle with the lives of others without result, for it is impossible to leave them as you find them. i remember being visited one morning by a woman who had left the home after a three years' stay there. she had been drinking before she called on me, and she had some complaints to make regarding her treatment there. the complaints were trifling in character, and were more in the nature of gossip than anything else. i told her that she had cost the community some £ to keep her during the last three years, and they seemed to have made a bad bargain. i advised her to think a little less of her grievances and a little more of the comfort of her neighbours, and dismissed her with the usual censure and advice; but she had a case against the state, although she was not able to express it clearly. i would put it for her thus: "when you interfered with my life i had fallen into the habit of drinking, but in the main i earned my own living and meddled very little with others to their annoyance. i had my friends, whom your judgment might not approve, but between them and myself there were common ties. we sympathised with each other and helped each other. you undertook to reform my life, to break me of my bad habits, to make me more fit to earn my living without offending against your laws. you have ruled and governed me for three years. you put me in a home where my life was regulated for me; you gave me as companions people with whom i had never associated before; you compelled me to live in their company; you taught me nothing that i find of any use to me outside; you kept me from drinking. it may have been a poor pleasure, but it was the only one i had. you did not take the taste for it away, and you have given me nothing to replace it; and now i am three years older, and you turn me loose on the streets of the city to which i belong, and in which i am now through your action very much a stranger, and invite me to work for my living in competition with others. i could work and did work before you meddled with me; i could work yet, but i must have something to fill my life as well as work, and i have taken to drink again, because it is the only thing i know that meets the need i feel. i am worse off than i was before you started to reform me. then i had friends, now i am alone; for they have gone their own way: some to death, all of them from me. there is nobody from whom i can have the sympathy and the help i once had. my friends had their faults and they knew mine; that was why we were friends. all you can offer me is patronage, advice, direction from people whom i don't know and who don't know me. the one thing that i want, which is fellowship, i have not got. you have taught me to depend on others. you have made me obey your rules, and now you set me free to make rules for myself, and leave me to drift back into the place where i was; to face the same difficulties, the same temptations, without the companionship of those who had grown into my life. you have taken three years from my life and you have given me nothing for it. give me back my life or justify your interference with it by fitting me to become a better citizen than i was." this is something like what the woman appeared to feel and tried to say, and there is really no answer to it. it is not a wise proceeding to treat the lives of men and women as toys with which we can play, and throw them aside without practical regard for consequences when we are tired of the game. if we do not direct them, they will direct themselves, and the less fitted they are to do so the worse for us. i remember one woman who was an inmate of a home, but who had been employed on a farm outside under licence. her behaviour was excellent; she was a good worker, although she had had over a hundred convictions for drunkenness before her admission to the home. she always had been a good worker in the intervals between the drinks. she conformed to the terms of the licence, whatever these were, and seemed to be a reformed character. i suggested to her that it was perfectly clear that, though she could not resist the temptations incident to life in the slums of a great city, she might continue for an indefinite period to live a useful life in the country. she replied, "as soon as my three years are up i am going back to the town," and she kept her promise, with the result that she went back to her drinking. in her case it was proved that she could behave for a long period when the only alternative presented to a regulated life outside an institution was a more rigidly regulated life inside an institution. she preferred the outside farm to the home, but she preferred the streets of the city to either, and her case raises the question whether it is advisable to withdraw all control from those like her. she did not require to be continually overlooked by officials in order that she should conform to the law. her life was left under the inspection of the inhabitants of the district in which she worked, and it is quite conceivable that she might have been working there yet, if she had not known that the reward of restraining herself would be not so much a change in character, as freedom from any supervision when a fixed term had expired. the cause of the failure of the inebriate home did not lie in the character of the inmates or of the officials who were placed over them, but in the defect inherent in all institutions; the fact that the manner of living in them differs essentially from anything that obtains outside. they are all founded more or less on the military model, and the military model and the industrial model are different. far more than most of us suspect we are the creatures of habit:--often of habit acquired slowly, gradually, and unconsciously. to remove ourselves from one place to another implies the breaking off from some habits, but it also implies the formation of others. it did not need the experience of the inebriate home to let us know that men might be removed from the opportunity of drinking for long periods and, on return to their former conditions, resume the habit. years of imprisonment, where teetotalism is rigidly enforced and where the diet is of a non-stimulating character, did not make the men who were submitted to it abstain from drinking on their release. the objectionable habit can only be cured through being replaced by something which is of equal interest, has greater power, and enables the man to live his life without being a nuisance to his neighbours. when men or women are placed in association with one another, they have to find some common bond of interest. in every voluntary association this is recognised. religion causes some to cut themselves off from the world and to devote their lives to its pursuit. men differing in social positions, in age, in experience, in character, in temperament, join together to form a community. the one thing they have in common is their form of belief. they may differ as widely as possible in their views on other subjects, but these differences are not the thing that holds them together. they would rather tend of themselves to break up the association, since disagreement drives people apart. the differences are only tolerable because of the bond of agreement which is strong enough to compensate them. on this subject and around it they may talk. the experience of each will interest the other, will enlighten him, will at any rate be considered by him. the same is true of political associations. differences there are amongst the members, but these differences cannot go beyond the point at which some common agreement balances them, without breaking up the association. inebriate homes and other reformatory institutions are not voluntary associations, but there can be no intercourse amongst their inmates that is not based on some experience common to them all. in the inebriate homes the common factor is inebriety. however much the inmates may differ in other respects, in this they are all alike: that they have indulged in drink to such an extent that the law has interfered to deal with them, and so the question that every newcomer has to face is, "why are you here?" they are compelled to associate with one another, and they will get on the better together for each knowing something of the others' story. scenes are recalled that had better be forgotten. time spent in regretting the past while detailing its incident may result, and often does, in a repetition of the evils which are deplored. better that the mind should dwell on something else than on the errors of time past. it is a common thing to see a man begin to tell a wild episode or experience of his earlier years, and to observe that beneath his expressions of criticism and regret there is a certain tone of satisfaction that he has been through it, and a lingering reminiscence of the enjoyment he has had in it. he condemns the folly, admits it was a mistake, and shows quite clearly that it was quite a pleasure at the time. talking over the past brings it back and keeps the memory of it alive, and persistence in this course may cause that which has been regarded with disgust to become a thing that is desired, even a thing that is longed for. i remember a conversation with an inmate on the occasion of a visit i made to an inebriate home. i had known her as a habitual offender for years before her reformation was undertaken, and at this time she had been in the institution for more than a year. i congratulated her on the improvement in her appearance, and at the end of our talk she said, "it's a' quite true, i am better housed than i ever was. ma meat is a' that a body could want, and i get it mair easily than i did ootside. the work's no o'er-hard, and the officials are kind. there are bits o' rows, of course, noo and then; whaur there are so many weemen you couldna expect onything else; but there's naething to complain of. the country's real bonny in the summer, but i get tired of the country. i am a toon bird like yoursel', doctor, and i weary for the streets." i suggested to her that since she was so well off and could be suited on the expiry of her term with a place where she would not have the same inducements to drink as she had had, she should make up her mind to keep away from the town; but she answered, "no; it's a' very nice and comfortable, but i wouldna gie a walk doon the candleriggs for the haill o' it." of course she ultimately had a walk down the candleriggs, followed by a drive to prison; but it was quite apparent that this longing for her old haunts was the result of her failure to be impressed by interests that were equally absorbing, and that would become more powerful. had such an interest developed in her, the candleriggs would have been merely an empty sentiment. it would have occupied the position that "bonnie scotland" has in the minds of so many of the scots who, having taken up their residence abroad, and having become absorbed in their affairs, stay there--afraid to return lest they lose even the sentiment. just as in the religious community the members are stimulated to welldoing, in the reformatory the association of people whose common bond is their offence stimulates them to wrongdoing, or at least tends to hinder them from breaking off their old interests. institutional life has points of difference from life outside, which cause the formation of habits that are detrimental to the inmates when they return to the community. they are lodged usually on the model of the barracks; though this does not apply to the lodging of prisoners in prison, as they have separate rooms. outside an institution most people do not sleep in dormitories or live in common rooms. they may live and sleep in the same room, but the only lodging outside which is on the same model as the dormitory is the common lodging-house, and that is the last place to which anyone would desire that a reformed offender should go. in an institution division of labour is carried out for reasons of economy. the superintendent directs that different sets of people should perform different duties. even if all the persons are changed at intervals from one set of duties to another, with a view to each inmate learning to do all parts of the work which is necessary in order that the place may be kept in proper condition, the habit formed is different from that of the housewife outside, who daily has to go over the whole round of her work. she is not responsible for doing a part, knowing that some other is responsible for some other part. not only each part of the work engages her attention in its turn, but she is accountable for the whole; whether she does it well or ill is beside the point, which is, that there is nobody to rule her and no one whom she can hold accountable for her neglect. the habits of housekeeping acquired by the inmates of a home may tend to make them good servants, but they are certainly not the kind likely to make them more fit than they were to undertake the management of a house of their own; for they do not manage, they are managed. chapter vii the prevention of crimes act ( ) the borstal experiment--provisions for the "reformation of young offenders"--is any diminution in the numbers of police expected?-- preventive detention--the implied confession that penal servitude does not reform, and the insistence on it as a preliminary to reform--the prisoner detained at the discretion of the prison officials--the powers of the secretary of state--the change under the statute--the necessary ignorance of the secretary of state by reason of his other duties--the "committees"--the habits to be taught--the teaching of trades--the ignorance of trades on the part of those who design to teach them--the difficulty of teaching professions in institutions less than that of teaching trades--the vice of obedience taught--intelligent co-operation and senseless subordination--the military man in the industrial community. some few years ago the english prison commissioners began a modified system of treating certain offenders. borstal prison was set apart for the purpose, a staff was specially chosen, and young offenders were selected for experiment. it was a notable departure, and the authorities seem to have been satisfied with the results. either they had power to undertake the experiment or they had not. in the former case there was no need for an act of parliament to give authority; in the latter case they must have been breaking the law. if they were within their powers there was nothing to hinder them from extending their beneficent work. that work would necessarily depend for its success on the experience and special ability of those who performed it. if the men in office in other prisons do not possess similar qualifications for the work no statute will confer them; but it may cause them to have duties placed upon them which they are not fitted to discharge. so long as the treatment had to be justified by its results, it would be fairly safe to assume that only those who could prove their fitness would direct it; now it needs as little of such justification for its continuance as do the inebriate homes. the prevention of crimes act ( ) deals with the "reformation of young offenders," and the "detention of habitual criminals." the young offenders must be not less than sixteen and not more than twenty-one years of age; but the secretary of state with the concurrence of parliament may make an order including persons apparently under twenty-one, if they are not really over twenty-three years of age. the young offender must be convicted on indictment of an offence for which he is liable to penal servitude or imprisonment; and it must be apparent to the court that he is of criminal habits or tendencies, or an associate of bad characters. the court must consider any report by the prison commissioners as to the suitability of the offender for treatment in a borstal institution; and may send him there for not less than one and not more than three years. in scotland the secretary of state may apply the act by order, and may call the institution by any name he chooses. if a boy in a reformatory commit an offence for which a court might send him to prison, he may instead be sent to a borstal institution, his sentence then superseding that in the reformatory school. the secretary of state may transfer persons within the age limit from penal servitude to a borstal institution. the secretary of state may establish borstal institutions, and may authorise the prison commissioners to acquire land, with the consent of the treasury, and to erect or convert buildings for the purpose, the expense to be borne by the exchequer. he may make regulations for the management of the institution, its visitation, the control of persons sent to it, and for their temporary detention before their removal to it. subject to the regulations, the prison commissioners, if satisfied that the offender is reformed, may liberate him on licence at any time after he has served six months--in the case of a woman, after three months; and the licence will remain in force till the expiry of the sentence, unless it is revoked or forfeited earlier, in which case the offender may be arrested without warrant and taken back to the institution. subject to regulations, the prison commissioners may revoke the licence at any time. if a licensed person escapes from supervision, or commits any breach of the conditions laid down in the licence, he thereby forfeits it; and the time between his forfeiture and failure to return is not computed in reckoning the time of his detention. the time during which he is on licence, and conforming to the conditions therein, counts as time served in the institution. every person sentenced to detention in a borstal institution remains under the supervision of the prison commissioners for six months after his sentence has expired; but the secretary of state may cancel this provision where he sees fit. the prison commissioners may grant a licence to any person under their supervision, and may recall it and place him in the institution if they think this necessary for his protection; but they may not detain him for more than three months, and they cannot detain him at all when six months have passed since his sentence expired. young offenders detained in borstal institutions, if reported as incorrigible or as exercising a bad influence on the other inmates, may be removed to a prison to serve the remainder of their term, with or without hard labour, as the secretary of state may decide. the person under licence must be placed under the supervision of some person or society willing to take charge of him, and named in the licence. where a society has undertaken the assistance or supervision of persons discharged from the institution, the expenses incurred may be paid from public funds; but, curiously enough, the statute makes no reference to payment of persons willing to act as guardians. a person may be moved from one borstal institution to another, and from one part of the united kingdom to another. he is to be "under such instruction and discipline as appears most conducive to his reformation and the repression of crime"--which is sufficiently vague. the only thing of any importance in this part of the act is the provision for letting the offender out on licence. if it is used to board him out, some progress may be made; but if it is merely used to provide funds for some society of philanthropists to play with, there is little ground for the hope that it will do much for the offender. the second part of the act is more peculiar than the first. it is designed to deal with the case of the habitual offender, and as originally drafted it provided for retaining him in custody, if the officials thought proper, for the rest of his life. this would have been nearly as certain a preventive as hanging him, and would have been much more costly. a consequence that might be expected to spring from the prevention of crime would be a diminution in the numbers of the police. it is their duty to arrest criminals, and if the criminals are shut up their occupation is gone. it is a striking fact that during all the discussions which took place on the measure, nobody suggested that as a result of its operation there would be any smaller number of policemen required. there was no likelihood of it; for crime will not be prevented to any great extent by the institution of "reformatories"--experience has shown that very clearly--but it will be diminished to some extent while the professionals are incarcerated. this has been tried and found insufficient and unsatisfactory. the new act makes provision for the care of people who have been liberated from borstal institutions, and for the reformatory treatment of those who have become habituals after graduation in crime and in prison experience--neither of which qualifications makes it easier to deal with them. the "habitual criminal" of the statute is one who, between his attaining the age of sixteen years and his conviction of the crime charged against him, has had three previous convictions and is leading persistently a dishonest or criminal life. such a person, after being sentenced to penal servitude, may be ordered to be detained on the expiration of that sentence for a period of not less than five and not more than ten years, at the discretion of the court. the charge of being a habitual offender can only be tried after he pleads or has been found guilty of the crime for which he has been indicted, and seven days' notice must be given the offender of the intention to make such a charge. the court has a right to admit evidence of character and repute on the question as to whether the accused is or is not leading persistently a dishonest or criminal life. the person sentenced to preventive detention may appeal against the sentence to a court consisting of not less than three judges of the high court of justiciary, in scotland. the secretary of state may, in the case of persons appearing to be habitual criminals and undergoing sentence of five years' penal servitude or upwards, transfer them, after three years of the term of penal servitude have expired, to preventive detention for the remainder of their sentence. prisoners undergoing preventive detention shall be confined in any prison which the secretary of state may set apart for the purpose, and shall be subject to the law in force with respect to penal servitude; provided that the rules applicable to convicts shall apply to them, subject to such modifications in the direction of a less rigorous treatment as the secretary of state may prescribe. this means that the person convicted has to be dealt with by the same officers who have been dealing with him when he was called a convict prisoner. there is no reason to assume that their ability to make him better than he was will be increased because an act of parliament has been passed. a change of labels, however dexterous, does not alter the character nor will it change the atmosphere of the prison. "prisoners undergoing preventive detention shall be subjected to such disciplinary and reformative influences, and shall be employed on such work as may be best fit to make them able and willing to earn an honest livelihood on discharge." this subsection is wide enough to include all reform. it implies that prisoners are not subjected to such disciplinary and reformative influence, and are not employed on such work as may be best fitted to make them able and willing to make an honest livelihood on discharge; but if this implication is justified, why should they not be placed under helpful conditions from the first day of their imprisonment? to one who is not a legislator it appears foolish to insist that offenders should be placed under conditions which do not fit them to live honestly outside prison, and that this process should be repeated until they have become habitual criminals, before it is ordered that steps shall be taken for their reform. what are the influences ordered by parliament, and what is the work they have to be taught which will make them able and willing to earn an honest livelihood? surely no member of parliament is credulous enough to believe that the influences and the work that will tend to make one man better will be suitable to all men. even members of parliament do not all conform to the same rules, and there are as many differences among criminals as among legislators. "the secretary of state shall appoint for every such prison or part of a prison so set apart a board of visitors, of whom not less than two shall be justices of the peace, with such powers and duties as he may prescribe by such prison rules as aforesaid." "the secretary of state shall, once at least in every three years during which a person is detained in custody under a sentence of preventive detention, take into consideration the condition, history, and circumstances of that person, with a view to determining whether he should be placed out on licence, and if so on what conditions." "the secretary of state may at any time discharge on licence a person undergoing preventive detention if satisfied that there is a reasonable probability that he will abstain from crime and lead a useful and industrious life, or that he is no longer capable of engaging in crime, or that for any other reason it is desirable to release him from confinement in prison. a person so discharged on licence may be discharged on probation, and on condition that he be placed under the supervision or authority of any society or person named in the licence who may be willing to take charge of the case, or of such other conditions as may be specified in the licence. the directors of convict prisons shall report periodically to the secretary of state on the conduct and industry of persons undergoing preventive detention, and their prospects and probable behaviour on release, and for this purpose shall be assisted by a committee at each prison in which such persons are detained, consisting of such members of the board of visitors and such other persons of either sex as the secretary of state may from time to time appoint. every such committee shall hold meetings at such intervals of not more than six months as may be prescribed, for the purpose of personally interviewing persons undergoing preventive detention in the prison, and preparing reports embodying such information respecting them as may be necessary for the assistance of the directors, and may at any other time hold such other meetings and make such special reports respecting particular cases, as they may think necessary." a licence may be in such form, and may contain such conditions as may be prescribed by the secretary of state. the secretary of state is the figure who has all power over the person sentenced to preventive detention; but the act does not give him any power that he did not before possess. the secretary of state has always held and used a dispensing power regarding the sentences passed on prisoners. he has not only remitted sentences, but he has imposed conditions while granting a remission. the act does not even limit his power, for as the representative of the king he may liberate anybody if he sees fit. what the act does is to set up machinery whereby the secretary of state may be moved. hitherto some personal interest must have been taken by him in a case before the exercise of the royal prerogative would be recommended by him, for he would require to be prepared to justify his action if questioned in parliament. the act alters all that in so far as it applies and makes matter of routine what was exceptional. the secretary for scotland is the head of all the departments of administration, and being the head of all, is not likely to know, intimately, much about any of them. he has his parliamentary duties to attend to, and the more they press on him the more administrative work must he leave to the permanent heads of the departments. one secretary of state may obtain, and may deserve, a better reputation for administrative capacity than another; but it is absolutely impossible to expect any one man to know intimately the details of the work of all the departments. he is responsible for education, for instance, but what can he know personally of the educational needs of a boy in the east end of glasgow? yet he prescribes for the education of all boys, as though it were easier to know about thousands than about one. as head of the local government board, he has to state what amount of relief should be given to poor people in different parts of scotland, what amount in grant should be given to distress committees, and what kind of work the unemployed should do. he never is a man who has had any experimental acquaintance with poverty, or who knows by experience what distress is entailed in a working-class family by dull trade; and manual labour has not been his occupation. yet it is not the representatives of these people who instruct him. it is the board of which he is the head, and whose members, however able they may be, are less in contact with those for whom they prescribe than he is. he is head of the prisons department, and he may now and then visit a prison; but even a secretary of state, one might go further and say, especially a secretary of state, cannot gain much intimate knowledge of prisons and prisoners from a casual visit. he has too many things to do, and the man who has too many things to do seldom does anything. he leaves that to his assistants. if solomon undertook and tried to do as many things as a secretary of state is supposed to do, he would lose his reputation for wisdom in a week; but he wouldn't be solomon if he tried; and so the secretary of state, on the advice he receives, has to determine the fate of the prisoner who is under sentence of preventive detention. once in three years every such person has to come under his notice. this can only be done through reports. these reports have to be made by the committee set up under the act, which committee is appointed by the secretary for scotland. it would be too much to expect that he should know the local circumstances in every case, and the men appointed may only be those recommended to him by his officials. that these will be men of good repute there need be no doubt, but there is no reason to suppose that they will be the men best fitted to represent the public, or most likely to have an intimate acquaintance with the conditions under which the prisoners have lived. if the officials had themselves shown any aptitude for dealing with prisoners in a reformatory way, there might be some reason for assuming that their nominees would be persons whose experience of life and the character of whose abilities would be of such a nature as to fit them for the work they are supposed to undertake. men of ideas, especially if the ideas are not officially approved, are not at all likely to find themselves nominated for such work. they would cause trouble, and it is better that things should not be done than that israel should be disturbed. the committee have to meet at intervals for the purpose of personally interviewing those who are under their care; and the value of their reports will depend on the intimacy of the knowledge they gain regarding the persons interviewed and on its accuracy. apparently they need not meet more frequently than once in six months. such a provision is too nakedly absurd to deserve discussion. apparently they have to report to the prison commissioners, who report to the secretary of state. the position is therefore something like this--that prisoners after they have served prolonged periods in prison may be transferred to another part of the establishment in order to be reformed. in their new quarters the treatment they receive is to be less rigorous than it has been. the influences under which they have to be brought are described but not defined. the officers may be the same as those who were called warders in the other part of the prison, but they may have a new name--perhaps a new uniform. if the person satisfies the secretary of state, whom he will never see and who knows nothing about him personally, that he is a reformed character, he may be liberated on licence; and he may seek election to the ranks of the licensed once in three years. his conduct and record will then be considered. what will determine the character of the record obviously is the impression he makes on those who come into contact with him. that is to say, he will mainly depend on the report of the warder, for after all, does he not know most about the man? he certainly sees more of him than does any other body. a form will be devised which he will regularly fill in. government institutions are notable for forms. it will provide for a record of the prisoner's conduct, behaviour, intelligence, and all sorts of things, and will no doubt be as ingenious a production as any of the numerous specimens which result from our practice of government by clerk. the warder will report to the head warder, who will report to the governor. the medical officer will report as to the health of the person, and all the reports will go on to the prison commissioners, and from them to some clerk in the scottish office, who has satisfactorily passed a civil service examination on the boundaries of the russian empire, the death of rizzio, or some such important educational subject, and who has never had any opportunity to know anything about prisoners save what can be learned from books, reports, and an occasional visit to prison. the reports will be carefully checked, weighed, and summarised, and the secretary of state will sign the order made for him. it is perfectly obvious that the higher up in the official scale one goes, the less intimate knowledge of the lives of prisoners, of the social conditions under which they lived outside, and of their needs, can you reasonably expect to find as things are at present arranged. the man who has the best chance to get a licence under the act is the man who can dodge best. all our experience points to the fact; and it is not uncommon for the most objectionable character, by subservience and sycophancy, to impress favourably those who have the dispensing of privileges, and this is not confined to prisons or prisoners. when a prisoner is liberated on licence from a place of preventive detention and placed under the supervision or authority of a society or person, the society or person has to report in accordance with regulations to be made to the secretary of state, on the conduct and circumstances of the licensee. the licence may be revoked at any time by the secretary of state, when the person licensed must return to prison. if the person under licence escapes from the supervision of those under whom he has been placed, or if he breaks any conditions of the licence, he forfeits it altogether, and may be brought before a court of summary jurisdiction and charged with breach of licence, and on proof be sent back to the place of preventive detention. the time during which a person is out on licence is treated as a part of the term of detention to which he has been sentenced; unless he has failed to return after his licence has been revoked, in which case the time during which he may have been said to have escaped does not count as reducing the term of his sentence. the conditions of licence may be withdrawn at any time by the secretary of state, and the person licensed be set absolutely free; but in any case, after he has been out on licence for five years the power to detain him lapses, provided he has observed the conditions of his licence during that time. in both the borstal and the preventive detention institution it is intended to teach the inmates habits and pursuits that will be useful to them in the world outside. what these are will altogether depend on what is to happen to them on liberation. no institution has yet been devised that even remotely resembles anything like the life that its inmates have to anticipate. a great deal has been written about the advisability of teaching trades to persons in institutions, but the writers are never themselves artisans, and if they had any practical knowledge of the subject they would not write; there would be nothing to write about. more goes to the learning of a trade than the handling of the tools. men have not merely to learn how to do a thing, but how to do it in association with other workers. they learn the trade not from the lectures of a teacher or the instructions of a foreman, but from watching the work of others, and imitating or avoiding their methods, as seems most suitable. take the two best tradesmen in almost any workshop, and you will find that they set about their work each in a different way--each in the way he has found best suited to himself. the apprentices learn from them; and the lad or man who wants to learn a trade, is ill-advised indeed if he goes to a workshop where there are as many apprentices as journeymen. it used to be said that the first year of a joiner's apprenticeship was served in sweeping the shavings and in boiling men's "cans"; and there was a good deal of truth in the statement. the best tradesmen i have known spent the first part of their apprenticeship knocking about the workshop, fetching and carrying for others, and unconsciously receiving impressions and gaining knowledge. the worst i have ever known were one or two whom the foreman thought, when they entered on their apprenticeship, to be too old for him to put to such work, and who were chained to the bench right away. in an institution where it is undertaken to teach lads or men trades, not only are the conditions less favourable than those outside, but they are actually opposed to them. in fact, you have a company composed almost entirely of apprentices. there are no journeymen. there is only a foreman in the shape of the instructor; and as the longer he is there the more out of touch he is with the changes in method that have taken place amongst his fellow-tradesmen outside, he is only capable of telling his apprentices how he would do the thing, which in a workshop they might do better by following a plan more suitable to them. if he has to overlook their work they cannot be overlooking his; and while he is criticising their efforts and keeping them in order he cannot be showing them an example. every tradesman and every employer knows that it is an important question, not only whether a man has served his apprenticeship, but where he has served it. of course, under the most favourable conditions some men do not become good tradesmen; they may have gone to the wrong occupation for them; but there are conditions that are generally more favourable than others for the production of capable workmen, and these conditions cannot possibly exist in an institution. exceptions trained there may turn out passable workmen and may find work outside, but the result of trying to teach trades in an institution will be that at considerable expense you will increase the number of bad tradesmen; and there are plenty. i do not say that nothing can be taught in an institution. many things are learned there. the whole point is that they are not the things that make for efficiency outside. it is easily seen how a man who has not himself been trained in a handicraft may believe that it can be taught as well in one place as another, although if you consider his own occupation and suggest that his profession too might be taught anywhere, he will readily see objections. the people who are notably interested in prison reform are largely drawn from the professional classes and from the well-to-do. it may be quite possible to teach a prisoner or the inmate of a reformatory to acquire the habits and the manners of an independent gentleman. of the feasibility of the proposal, were it ever made, i am not qualified to speak; but, as an observer, one cannot help seeing that many of them have already acquired the habit of doing as little useful work for themselves as possible, and of expending a good deal of energy in directions that are not socially productive. the clergyman would reject as impracticable any proposal to train the reformed in an institution for entry into his profession; and yet abundance of quiet and of time for study could be obtained there, and there does not seem to be anything to hinder the teaching of theology, of literature, or of philosophy, from taking place within its walls. there is, of course, the question of brains. it is a great mistake to assume that brains are the monopoly of any class, or that they play a more prominent part in the work of professional men than in that of others. so far as the training is concerned, there is no ground for assuming that selected inmates of reformatory institutions could not be had who are as well qualified by natural endowments to receive instruction of an academic character, in as large numbers, as others who would be fitted to receive instruction in the working of wood or of metal. of course there are other reasons why ministers should not be trained in prison. there is the question of moral character; and though reformed desperadoes have become noble beings before now, i do not think that even the most enthusiastic evangelist would consider it safe to assume that a man who has failed to conform to the laws of the community is a safe person to train for the ministry. this question of character would not be so generally admitted against any proposal to train the inmates of a reformatory institution as lawyers; but although a man might acquire all the useful information and general knowledge that are required for examination as a preliminary to admit him to the study of the laws of his country; although he might master the text-books and become learned in the records of legal decisions quite as well in a prison as in a lodging outside; no lawyer would admit that thereby he could qualify to practise his profession. he would insist that there is something more required in his experience than the mere knowledge of the laws and of case-books. being a lawyer, he could set out at length what that something is. so there is something that marks off the man who has been trained under the artificial conditions which exist in an institution from the man who has been trained outside. i knew of a blacksmith who was a very useful tradesman while he remained in the institution where he had learned that trade. he obtained work outside on several occasions, but he lost it always, not through any misconduct on his part, but through sheer inefficiency. some things he could do, but most things he could not do; and his employers found him an unprofitable servant, partly because of his limitations and partly because his methods impaired the efficiency of those with whom he worked. in my day i have served an apprenticeship both to a handicraft and to medicine, and i have no doubt whatever that it would have been as easy for me to train for my medical qualification in prison as to have qualified myself as an artisan in an institution. it is assumed that what the offender needs is above all to be trained in habits of obedience, as though that were not what he has always been taught when in any prison; and much good our training has done him. i know as little about military affairs as the military men who are appointed to manage prisons and prisoners know about the duties they undertake when they are appointed, but i do know something about the worship of discipline. discipline means not knowing more than the man above you, no matter how difficult it may be to know less. there must always be twice as much wisdom and truth in anything the superior officer does or says as there is in the actions or words of his inferiors; and it is insubordination to behave in ignorance or in contempt of this great principle. at school we were taught a story about a man named william tell, regarding which the later critics dispute the accuracy. it seems that a high military personage called gessler set his cap upon the top of a pole in the market-place and commanded the people to bow down to it. tell refused to do so, and was seized and compelled to enter on a test of his skill in archery; and so on. whether the story about tell is true or not, there can be no doubt about the cap; in one form or other it is still a symbol of authority, to be saluted with respect by the common people. in scotland we had a song about rab roryson's bonnet, but "it wasna the bonnet, but the heid that was in it," that was the real subject of the ditty. discipline pays no regard to the head that is in the cap. the cap is the thing, though it may be placed on a pole. everybody knows that the old cap of knowledge in fairy tales has no longer an existence, and that absence of what is called brains will not be compensated for by any covering of the skull, whatever pretence may be made to the contrary. of the virtue of obedience we hear a good deal, and if we look around us we will see evidences that it may be no virtue at all, but a vice. in one of the best known of his poems tennyson describes the soldiers: "theirs not to reason why: theirs not to make reply"; and there are many who think it a noble thing to teach a man not to use the brains he has, and to die rather than show disrespect to his superior by questioning his competence. this may be a military virtue, but it is a civil vice. if it did not work outside so badly in practice, it might be allowed to pass unquestioned; but one has only to look around to see the result of its application. the men who come under its operation are not rendered more efficient citizens thereby, but are hindered by the training they have undergone from obtaining employment in industrial life. subordination there must be before there can be combined action on the part of men for any purposes, but there need not be senseless subordination. in any iron-work, for instance, where men work together, they each take their own and other men's lives in their hands daily. when they are acting in concert a false step, a careless act, on the part of anyone, may bring injury or death on himself and others; and they know this and behave accordingly, or no work would be possible. for the inefficient person there is no room, and when serious work has to be done gessler's cap has no place; there is only room for william tell. men discharged from the army find difficulty in obtaining employment. it is not that they are worse men than their neighbours. it is because they have received the wrong kind of training. employers do not prefer others to them from any absence of patriotism, but from a desire for efficiency. they cannot afford in industrial occupations to have people about them who have learned that it is "theirs not to reason why." they prefer those who have been taught to use all the sense they have in dealing with their work. in short, the person who during the most formative years of his life has been employed industrially, makes a better workman than the man who during these years has been taught to wait for the word of command before he does anything. yet we have people going all over the country trying to convince their fellow-citizens that there is no salvation for us unless all young men are subjected to a period of military training, apparently in ignorance of the fact that those who have had that training have difficulty in competing industrially with those who have none. it may be true for other reasons, for purposes of defence, that we ought to learn to shoot, though for my part i believe that most men are more likely to be sick sometime in their lives than to be engaged in fighting with people of whom they know nothing. that would seem to be an argument for their being taught how to preserve and care for their own rather than how to destroy somebody else's health; but gessler's cap is still in the market-place, and it is rude to say anything about it. yet it is not the bonnet, but the head that is in it, that matters in the long run. chapter viii the family as model the basis of the family not necessarily a blood tie--adoption--the head and the centre of the family--the feeling of joint responsibility--the black sheep--companionship and sympathy necessities in life--reform only possible when these are found-- "conversion" only temporary in default of force of new interests--the one way in which reform is made permanent. one great mistake made by those who consider social problems is that they either regard man apart from his surroundings or as one of a mass, instead of as a member of a family or group. family life is the common form of social life, and whatever its defects, it is the form that is likely to persist without very great modification. the family is based on marriage, and the parties married are not one in blood, though the children of the marriage are. the family tie, therefore, is not solely a blood tie. the members are brought up in a sense of mutual obligation and in the knowledge of their interdependence. occasionally adoption is a means of entering a family. when a person is adopted early in life, it is difficult to perceive any difference in the tie that binds him and the other members of the family. there is another and a temporary adoption which is much more frequent than is generally imagined, and the existence of which prevents a great many lads and more girls from becoming destitute and from drifting into evil courses. in glasgow there are many young persons who, having no relatives of their own with whom they can live, or the relatives being unwilling to take them in, obtain lodgings and help from others. in the case of the girls, they pay a portion of their earnings to the common treasury and give their services in aid of the work of the household, being treated in all essential respects as members of the family. many of them are not earning a wage sufficient to enable them to pay for lodgings at the ordinary rate; and it is this arrangement that explains why so many who are in receipt of small wages are able to live respectably, and do so. attempts have been made to provide hostels for such wage-earners, on this very ground that their income is insufficient to enable them to hire a room with attendance; and the hostels are frankly admitted to require charitable aid for their upkeep, though they are in their management institutional; that is to say, they aim at economy by the subdivision of labour. it never seems to have occurred to those who appeal for funds to establish such places that the girls in the majority of cases have solved the problem for themselves, by what i have called, and what practically is, a kind of adoption; and that their solution is the correct one--that the minority who have failed to obtain adoption can be better helped by securing it for them, if necessary by subsidy, than by bringing them together in an institution. a good many jokes have been made as to who is the head of a household--the man or the wife; and the question is occasionally a subject of dispute; but in the family authority tends to adjust itself. it can only exist when there is mutual toleration and respect. each member may be acutely conscious of the shortcomings of the other and may discuss them freely, but they all tend to unite against outside criticism, and if they are aware of each other's demerits, they are equally sharp to recognise qualities which help to their advancement. so that while one member may be the head of the family, another may be the centre of the family. it is not always either the father or the mother that exercises most influence in the family council. these matters are determined by circumstances, and when there is discord and disunion it is almost invariably due to a disregard of natural aptitudes and tendencies in the children, and to an insistence on parental rights in the narrow sense. the enforcement of mutual responsibility implies the recognition of mutual power. the community in which we live is mainly made up of families. yet men are considered as individuals, legislated for, and supervised as though this were not the case; and the authorities, instead of working through the family on the individual, contrive to raise the family feeling against them. the state is not an aggregation of men, but an aggregation of families; and when men are considered in the mass they are considered without relation to their usual surroundings. it has been pointed out that the crowd takes on characters different from the individuals composing it, but it is quite wrong to imagine that men have ordinarily to be regarded as units in a crowd. attempts are made to supervise men in masses; that is what takes place in institutions. individuals are supervised in certain circumstances outside, but they are best supervised in conjunction and in co-operation with the members of the family of which for a time they form a part. if every family has not its black sheep, in most cases it has some one of its members whose capacity is not equal to that of the others. in some of the cases the direction in which the weakness is shown is one that leads to breaches of the law. there are many children in every city who are a great trial to their parents, and there are parents who sorely try the patience and resources of their children. there are families who spend care and effort to prevent one of their members from becoming worse than he is and in endeavouring to lead him into better courses; but the community does nothing to help them in their efforts until they drop their burden or are compelled to relinquish it, when the authorities promptly proceed to apply official methods of treatment. we have reached the point where it actually pays the family financially to disclaim responsibility, for the state will do all (even though it does it badly) or will do nothing. it would be cheaper in every sense to help those who are trying to bear their responsibility--who are willing, though their circumstances make them unable--than to do as we have done; and acting on the ignorant assumption of our own knowledge, wait until evil has developed so far as to be unbearable and then put the evil-doer through our machinery. unless the offender is brought into sympathetic contact with someone in the community, who will enable him to resist temptation and encourage him in welldoing, he never does reform. there are people who attribute the change in their conduct to a conversion, sudden or otherwise, towards religion. the more sudden the change in their mental outlook the greater danger they are in; for the severing of an evil connection, though a necessary step, is not all that is required. in a community such as ours a man cannot stand alone. he cannot forsake his company and his accustomed pursuits and become a hermit, living the life of an early christian sent into the wilderness. he has to remain in the world and live out his life there. he must not only be converted from his former courses, but turned to better courses. he cannot get on without company. he cannot even earn his living alone; and the great advantage the convert has in our place and time is the assurance that he will be supported by others of like mind with him. they will find work for him and fellowship, and they fill his time very full; but only in so far as good comradeship is established between him and others is he likely to remain steadfast. comradeship deeper than the sharing of a common theological dogma and a common emotionalism is the only security for his reformation. to the man whose life has been passed in sordid surroundings, whose work has been monotonous and laborious, and whose pleasures have been gross, the more emotional the form in which the religious appeal is presented the greater its chance of success. he becomes filled with the spirit--a different kind of spirit from that which has hitherto influenced his actions--but the result is an excitement and an exaltation as pronounced as any he felt in the days of his iniquity. no one can listen to the convert at the street corner without being struck by the fact that while he is detailing and perhaps magnifying the nuisance he was before his regeneration, he is as much excited and makes as much noise as he did in those days. in some cases his public behaviour makes little difference to his neighbours, for he is no quieter than he was; though, instead of sending them to hell as he did in his wrath, he now tells them that they are going there. of course there is a world of difference both to them and to him as a result of the change in his outlook. his conduct is improved, if his manner is not; but every period of exaltation is liable to be followed by one of depression, and this is the danger to which his emotionalism exposes him. the best way to prevent a man from falling back into his old habits is to keep him too busy in the formation of new ones to have any time to turn his attention to the past. we hear it commonly said that the way to hell is paved with good intentions, but just as truly the way to heaven may be paved with bad. if men are distracted from doing the good they intend by something less worthy, they are as often prevented from doing the evil they had concerted through something interposing and claiming their interest. religion, then, may be a very potent influence in starting a man on a new course of conduct, and its spirit may inspire him to continue in the way of welldoing; but his perseverance will depend far more than he thinks on his adaptation to the company of the religious, and his interest in their work and their lives. almost as little will the love of good keep him from the world, the flesh, and the devil, as the love of evil will make him a criminal. for the most part men are not wicked because they prefer evil to good, but because they have come under the influence of evil associations which appeal to something in them. the man at the street corner who speaks about serving god is, at any rate, logical when he talks about having served the devil; but in those old bad days he did not consider the devil at all. he did what pleased him best, quite apart from any desire to have the approval of the prince of darkness. it is only after his conversion that he discovers that all his life he had been serving satan without recognising him, and it is equally possible, surely, for men to serve god without recognising the fact. it is just as possible for a man to do good and to live well, without thinking of anything beyond his pleasure in doing so, as to live wickedly from the same reason. in both cases the fellowship of others has a great deal to do with the matter. there is only one method by which a prisoner is reformed, and that is through the sympathetic guidance and assistance of some person or persons between whom and him there is a common interest. an employer engages an ex-prisoner and shows that he really desires him to do well. he must not patronise him, but he has to impress in some way the person he would help with the idea that he believes in him. he has to revive in him a feeling of self-respect. how is this done? there is no convenient formula. the man whose manner attracts one may repel others. religion, which most powerfully influences some, shows no power to attract many; and the man who will be deaf to one form of appeal may respond to another. it is simply foolish to assume that because our attempts to correct a man have failed he is incorrigible. all we can say is that we have failed because we have not been dealing with him in a way suited to him. sometimes it is an old acquaintance or a fellow-workman that impresses him and leads him to a new interest in life. whoever moves him, and however it may be done, it is only a new interest that will expel the old. it never is what a man is taught, but what he learns, that moves him. chapter ix alternatives to imprisonment what is required--the case of the minor offenders--the incidence of fines--the prevention of drunkenness--clubs--probation of offenders-- its partial application--defects in its administration--the false position of the probation officer--guardians required--case of young girl--the plea of want of power--old and destitute offenders--prison and poorhouse. if the present methods of treatment mainly result in the liberation of men and women from prison in a condition that makes it difficult for them to do well--sometimes more difficult than it was before they were sent there--it follows ( ) that no one should be sent to prison if there is any other means to protect the public from him; and further ( ) that no one should be liberated from prison unless the community has some guarantee that it will not suffer from him. in short, what happens to the prisoner in prison is of secondary importance to the public. of primary importance is, what is likely to happen to them when he comes out. the first consideration should be: how can you deal with people who have offended so as to avoid making them worse and to ensure that they will behave better? unfortunately, one main concern of many is how they can make the culprit suffer. one of the effects of retributive punishment is to make those who undergo it less fit, physically or mentally, than they were before its infliction. we must make up our minds whether we really desire to correct the offender or not, and if we seek his correction we must be prepared to throw overboard theories and practices which obstruct that end, whether they are old or new. an examination of the reports of the prison commissioners for scotland will suggest to anyone that a good deal might be done to diminish the number of committals to prison. according to the last report published ( ), there were , receptions of prisoners under sentence. as some were in prison more than once during the year, the number of individuals represented is probably about , , and of these were in for the first time. their sentences ranged from under one day to two years. there were , sentences of a month or less, and of these , were seven days or less; of that number being of three days or less. these people have not much time to get accustomed to their quarters before they are liberated; and if there were the means, there is neither the time nor the opportunity to make any thorough enquiry into their dispositions and way of living, with a view to help them. as for the nature of their offences, there were , committals for breach of peace, disorderly conduct, etc.; , for drunkenness; for obscene language, etc.; and nearly all these are offences inferring drunkenness. where did they get the drink? apparently it was not from the public-houses, for from the tables it does not appear that anyone was sent to prison for breach of certificate. if the source of supply could be discovered and cut off, or at any rate made to flow less freely, it seems obvious that there would be a much smaller prison population. but is there any good purpose served by sending people to prison for a few days? it is true the streets are rid of them, but such as are habituals go out simply revived by the rest and keen as ever for drink. i say the habituals, for time and again these return with sentences of two, three, five, or seven days. as for the casual offender, it would be far better to let him off, when he cannot pay a fine, than to send him to prison, thereby causing him to lose his employment and bringing him to bad company. in over , were sent to prison in default of paying a fine. time to pay fines benefits many, but there are those who are too poor to be helped by it. at present a fine is imposed as an alternative to imprisonment; and as the public is only assured of the culprit's behaviour for so many days, positive gain, financially and otherwise, would result from placing him in bond outside a prison. at present, if the fine is not paid, the absurd condition of affairs is this: that a person fined in, say, twenty shillings or twenty days may disappear and not pay the fine in the time allowed him; three months after he may be found, arrested, and sent to prison for this failure to pay. the sentence of the court amounted to this: that if he paid twenty shillings he would be at liberty to do as he pleased, but if he failed to pay he would have his liberty restricted for twenty days at the public expense; they to be secure from misconduct on his part during that time. he has behaved for three times that period at no expense to the public; why, then, should their hospitality be forced on him? as long as people will behave outside prison there is no sense in sending them inside. whether they are likely to behave can only be discovered after a more exhaustive and a different kind of enquiry than has hitherto been made in each case. minor offences form the great majority of our committals, and drunkenness is an element in most of the cases. if a man does not get drink to excess he will not become drunk. persons and premises are licensed for the convenience of the public, and it is not for the public convenience that anyone should be allowed to have a practically unlimited supply of liquor. one of the troubles of the man that takes drink is that he is not in a state to appreciate his own condition, and he is apt to imagine that he is much more sober than he is. no respectable publican wants to make men drunk; but he wants to make money out of his business, and beyond certain limits he cannot be more particular than his neighbours. it is sometimes very difficult to say when a man is drunk, but it is easy to tell when he is not sober, and he is not entitled to the benefit of any doubt that may exist. it ought to be the business of the vendor to refuse drink to a man who has evidently had as much as is good for him. he may make mistakes, but they will be on the right side if he has to pay for them. the very desire to prevent men being supplied with drink to excess has resulted in making the law, with regard to the supply of drink to intoxicated persons, something very like a dead letter. i have known a man to be convicted for being drunk and incapable at a police court, and though it was shown that he left a public-house in that condition after having had several drinks there, when the publican was brought to the same court on a subsequent date, to answer a charge of breach of certificate in respect that he had supplied drink to a man who was drunk, the charge was found not proven. the fine for such a breach of certificate would not have been nearly so great as the cost of defending the charge; but a conviction would have resulted in the endorsement of the licence, and might have caused its withdrawal. now as the man depended on the licence for his livelihood, this was practically a sentence of death. in these cases the magistrates are exceedingly unwilling to convict and in consequence charges are seldom made. if the penalty inflicted in the police court did not result in a larger penalty imposed by the licensing court, there would be less difficulty in dealing with the licence holders; and if drunkenness is to be prevented they must be dealt with. of course a man may get drunk in a private house or in a club; making it more difficult for him to become intoxicated in a public-house would not prevent that; but even so, it would tend to keep the streets free from disorder; and if a man will take more drink than he can carry, it is alike better for his own health and for the public convenience that he should do it in private. there have been many complaints about clubs during recent years, and that some of them are vile places there can be no question. the evidence given in the court as to how these objectionable places have been conducted shows their character quite clearly, but in the worst cases the very fact that such evidence was in possession of the authorities is a grave reflection on their competence to suppress disorder. in some cases the clubs were little better than dens of thieves, to which half-intoxicated persons were lured to be robbed by people whose character was well known to the police. raiding them avails little, but warning off those who would enter might avail much. men in uniform placed at the doors would act as a sign to warn the unwary. the knave preys on the fool. warn off his prey and he will starve. if through a subsidence or otherwise there is a hole in a street into which a man might stumble and break his leg, the place is barricaded off and a watchman placed there to warn the careless. nobody would think of leaving the trap open, even though a sufficient ambulance service were provided to carry off the injured. when a place that is known to be a trap for the foolish is discovered, on the same principle it might be profitable to warn those who would enter it, rather than to wait until they had suffered loss and then seek to seize and convict those who had robbed them. there are more ways of closing an ill-conducted club than by withdrawing its licence; but after all has been said, most of the drunkenness that disgraces our streets has not resulted from the consumption of drink either in private houses or in clubs, in spite of what the trade may say to the contrary. indignation against clubs on the part of liquor-sellers is not due to zeal for temperance, but springs from jealousy of their own monopoly. they seem to think that men should not take drink unless they are permitted to make a profit in the process; and it is just this question of profit that lies at the root of any effective dealing with the matter. our attempts to punish the drunkards are often ludicrous. it might not be so ridiculous to try to get at those who make a profit off the drunkard. he makes a loss; we make a loss; someone has profited. we punish him; we punish ourselves; neither of us are profited at all. there is surely something wrong here. those who are incapable of taking care of themselves, or who are disorderly in their conduct through drink, when taken into custody by the police, might quite profitably be permitted to go home when they are sober, unless their conduct is becoming a habit; in which case some other method of dealing with them requires to be considered. the disgrace of arrest will appeal as effectively to any person with a sense of shame as proceedings before a magistrate would do. when a fine--the cost of the trouble he has caused--has been inflicted on such an offender, time for payment should always be allowed. a man will never earn money in prison to pay the costs of his prosecution, but if allowed to go about his business he may do so. even if he can only earn his living without paying a fine, behaving himself the while, he has done more than it would have been possible for him to do in prison. there has been a strong tendency of late years to deal with persons coming before the courts for the first time, even when the charge is regarded as a serious one, in some other way than by sending them to prison. they are put on probation for a period, and if nothing is known against them for that time they are discharged. probation rightly managed would solve the problem of their treatment in the great majority of cases. imperfect as the method employed at present is, many have been benefited because under it they have escaped imprisonment. it is most commonly adopted in the case of those who have committed offences against property; yet if the principle on which it can be justified--the principle of substituting correction for punishment--were intelligently recognised, it would be applied in all cases, no matter what the offence; provided the offender was regarded as a suitable subject on consideration of his history and character. at present the offence more than the offender determines the sentence; and there is a greater likelihood of a person who has committed a petty offence being put on probation, than there would be if in the eye of the law the offence he had committed were regarded more seriously. the process is popularly described as giving the offender another chance. it is a loose expression, which may mean anything. it sometimes does mean giving him another chance to offend, and that is all. it is intended to give him another chance to behave; and this assumes that he has already had the chance; an assumption that is not always warranted if the facts were considered. clearly it is of no advantage to the public that an offender should have a chance of again committing a breach of the law; and if he is to be liberated from custody, it would be a reasonable proceeding to see that he is placed under such conditions as would make it easier for him to obey than to break the law. putting him on probation ought not to mean returning him to the conditions under which he failed to resist temptation. rather should it imply placing him under less unfavourable conditions of life. what is actually done amounts to this, that the offender, instead of being sentenced, on conviction, to imprisonment, is ordered to appear in court after so many months, in order that his case may be disposed of; and is allowed to be at liberty provided he consents to live under certain conditions prescribed by the court, his conduct to be reported on by a probation officer, whose duty it is to give him such counsel and aid as is possible without expense to the rates. the probation officer may be a police official; not necessarily a police officer, but under the control of the police. now if there is one thing that is more clear than another in glasgow and other urban areas in the west of scotland, it is that the poorer classes are suspicious of the police and the machinery of the law that masquerades in the name of justice--for it is a burlesque of justice to examine only one side of a case; to decide how far the individual is to blame for offending against the laws of the community, without making any enquiry into the question how far the community is to blame for inducing the offence; and this is felt, if it is not clearly expressed, by all who are liable to transgress. a tacit conspiracy against the officers of the law is not only apparent in the case of the poorer classes, but in the case of all classes, when they are brought into conflict with it. the old roman father who sacrificed his son to the laws, and whom we were asked to admire for his heroism when we were at school, is not a common phenomenon. he has left few descendants, which is probably a good thing. now the father strives to shield his son; the sister puts the best face on her brother's conduct; and the neighbours would far rather condone the fault of the culprit than expose his misdeeds. they feel that our methods are wrong whenever they come intimately in contact with them, and they obey their instincts and feelings; that is all. they can see that it is wrong, that it is foolish, to interfere with a man to make him worse, no matter under what pretence, when they know the man; although they will readily admit that you must punish the offender whom they do not know. so the probation officer may be misled into a wrong report regarding the person under his charge when that person behaves pretty much the same as he did before he was first arrested, the conditions under which he is living not having undergone any material change. the probation officer has his hands full, having quite a number of people to visit and report upon daily. these people being widely separated from one another geographically, he is merely discharging the duties of an inspector; and he cannot give individuals the attention their cases may require in order to their improvement. before a prisoner is discharged from the criminal lunatic department, the authorities see that an approved guardian is provided for him outside. the conditions on which he is allowed to be free are distinctly laid down, and the guardian is given the same authority over him outside as the attendants had when he was inside. if he breaks through any of the conditions imposed on him the guardian may report his misconduct, when he is liable to be brought back within the walls of the department. the same thing may happen if complaints of his behaviour are made by neighbours or associates. he has to be visited at intervals by some citizen of known character and integrity, whose duty it is to certify that the patient is fit to be free; and at unexpected times a medical officer from the department may call and see him, his guardian, and others, in order that there may be a reasonable security for the public. it has been said that there is too much fuss made over these cases, but i doubt it. the public security is the first consideration, and there has seldom been any cause given for complaint on the part of the prisoner so liberated. he is not set free and left to return to the associations to which he has reacted badly in the past. he is not left to struggle for existence and probably to fall under the struggle. he is placed under conditions which make it easier for him to do well than to do ill; and if he will not conform, his rebellion is checked at the beginning. it is not the duty of his guardians and visitors merely to look for evidences of his evil tendency. they have to help him to do well. these guardians are usually people who, for some reason, have a friendly interest in the man whose care they undertake. they are not paid for their work--though they should be, if necessary, as it costs less to keep a man outside than to keep him inside a lunatic asylum, and it is better to pay people who have a personal interest in the subject of their care than to pay those who have only an official interest in the persons with whom they deal. contrast this state of affairs with probation as it is worked. in the one case the guardian is carefully selected and is not appointed to act, however willing he may be, if there is not ground for assuming that he is also able. in the other case it is assumed that the guardians who have failed to exercise supervision over the offender will be better able to do so when the culprit has appeared before a magistrate. in both cases there are official visits to the prisoner discharged on licence, and in the case of the offender on probation these visits are more frequent. in so far as the officer can do so, he tries to help the wrongdoer; but if he has many under his charge the best will in the world cannot enable him to do more than a little for each. this little is as much as is required in many cases; and, imperfect as it is, the practice of the probation system has been justified by a certain amount of success. where it has failed has been in those cases where the conditions laid down have been of such a character that the offender is morally unable to conform to them. i do not suggest that the conditions were in themselves unreasonable, or that the standard of behaviour demanded has been too high judged by the needs of the community, but only that the demand made on the offender was greater than his circumstances permitted him to meet. x was a girl under fifteen years of age, rather big for her years, judged by the standard of the district in which she was brought up. she was employed as a message-girl and stole money from her employers. in the aggregate she appropriated a considerable sum before she was found out. she was put on probation, broke her bond, and was sent to a reformatory. two questions arose from her conduct. ( ) why did she steal? and ( ) why did she break her bond? as to the first question, the answer was quite apparent. she wanted little things which she could not get and she took the money to get them. her peculations were not observed and they increased. indeed, on one occasion she spent such a large sum of money in treating a party of school friends, that it is difficult to understand why the tradesman who executed her order did so at all, seeing what she was. it is one of the commonest things for young people to help themselves to things that are not their own. it is rarely considered thieving except they take money, or goods to sell; but dishonest appropriation of property is so common, not as a continued practice, but as an incident in the lives of young people, that i question if one of those who read this has not at some time or another in his or her life been guilty of it. this is too frequently forgotten, and if it were remembered as it ought to be children would be treated more wisely than hitherto has been done. the girl in question was the eldest daughter of respectable working people. her conduct shocked them; but they were unfit to direct her, for during the day her father was out working, and her mother had as much as she could do to attend to her household and to care for her younger children. the girl was sent back on probation to this home; a respectable home, but a home where, in the nature of things, she could not receive the care and guidance she required, having developed this propensity; and she broke her bond simply because she was placed under conditions where there was no reasonable probability of her keeping it. accordingly she was sent to a reformatory, at a cost to the community much greater than would have been incurred had she been boarded out with the consent of her parents under the care of some respectable person in the country, where she could have been freed from the associations that had proved unsuitable to her. money may be had, through channels provided by parliament, for placing people in institutions, reformatory and otherwise; while the statutes do not provide for expenditure in the way suggested. accordingly the reason assigned for not doing things which obviously might be done with profit is, that there are no powers, enabling them to act in the way suggested, in the hands of the officials. this, if it is an excuse for inaction, is not a valid one everywhere. when the parents of a child are willing to surrender their rights as guardians on cause being shown, and to allow the young person who has offended to be placed under control of some suitable person, all the power required is in the hands of the judge. it is recognised that parents, however respectable, may not be able to give their children such attention as they may require should they contract certain diseases; and there is seldom any difficulty in inducing them to have their ailing child removed to an infirmary for treatment. on the contrary, there are more who seek such treatment for their children than can be accommodated. for want of a better term, what we may call a moral ailment in a young person may as readily defy the resources of the parents as any physical ailment could do; and there are many parents who recognise the fact and would welcome assistance; but instead of helping them we are content to wait until the offender gets worse, and then to free the parent from all sense of responsibility and to make his position more painful than it need be by placing the culprit in one of our institutions. we may hope our action will do good, but the hope is not founded on experience. there is no law that hinders the community from assisting the needy among its numbers, although there may be no provision of funds specifically for this purpose. whatever may be the case elsewhere, in glasgow want of money is not the reason why things are not done. we have a large fund called the common good of the corporation. of late years it has been swollen by profits on the city's tramways to such an extent that a bonus, under the name of a reduction of rates, amounting to some £ , in one year, has been divided among the ratepayers. from this same fund banquets are provided; receptions are paid for; medals are supplied to magistrates; and all sorts of expenditure are defrayed for which there is no authority to rate. a small sum relatively is granted in aid of scientific and charitable organisations, and about £ is contributed to assist discharged prisoners. if money can be had to defray the cost of food, drinks, and cigars, for those who are quite able to pay for them themselves, and that without any special act of parliament, surely it could also be had to prevent offenders becoming hardened in their offences, and to assist those who are willing to undertake the work of guiding and training them in right ways of living. doubtless the money will be found when it is realised that it is at least as important to the city that people should be kept out of prison and helped to do well, as it is that the eminent and notable among the citizens should occasionally be treated from the corporation funds. how many could be assisted in this manner it is impossible to say, but so far as can be judged a large proportion of those dealt with might be so assisted at comparatively little cost. whether the number be large or small, however, it should be clearly understood that, the money being there, if they are not helped, it is not for want of power nor for want of means, but for some other reason. there are many things which the law does not enjoin on the corporation; but there are many others that are worthy which it does not prohibit those who are willing from doing; and if our officials are to be encouraged to believe that they must do nothing to help those who need assistance unless they get an act of parliament authorising them to do it, we need not wonder if our rate of progress is slow. the safe rule is to do the thing that needs doing, so long as there is not a positive injunction against doing it. this will cause trouble, no doubt, to the person who follows such a course of action; but i do not believe that any public official who acts on this principle will fail to receive public support and encouragement so long as he seeks to help people to help themselves, whatever view those in authority may take of his actions. we are too much bound by precedent. appropriate action is sometimes checked by the consideration that the thing proposed has never been done before. of course that is no reason for not doing it now; but it takes the place of a reason in far too many cases. more interest is taken in proposals for dealing with the habitual offender than in any others, although nobody is a habitual to begin with. he is supposed to be the dangerous person. he is a professional plunderer; the villain of the piece. but habitual offenders are not all great criminals. there are those who live by stealing, having become more or less expert at the business; but there are many offenders who, having become careless and drunken, or who, being physically or mentally a little below the ordinary standard of their class, are incapable of keeping a job even if they got it. they are more a nuisance than a danger to their fellow-citizens. this army of destitute persons should be dealt with by the destitution authorities. taken singly they are not difficult to control and direct, and it would be cheaper and more profitable to have them planted out in the country than to allow them to herd together in the cities, to be successful neither in honest nor dishonest work, and serving as tools and touts for the more skilful rogues. the most helpless among them are the aged and infirm, some of whom have only become submerged late in life, and all of whom are quite unable to extricate themselves from the morass into which they have fallen. now they are in the prison; now in the poorhouse. when they can avoid either of these institutions they live in lodging-houses or on the streets, where their misery is a reproach to our civilisation. they are not interesting; they are only disgusting; and it has been proposed to shut them up in the poorhouse, because they go in and out too frequently. yet something might be learned from their point of view. they are sent to prison because they commit petty offences. they are quite unfit to conform to the rules of that institution and are not improved by residence there. for a few days they are kept off the streets, but nobody pretends that this could not be done more effectively and at less cost. if they prefer the prison to the poorhouse, as is sometimes alleged, they do not prefer the prison to the miserable and haphazard existence they drag out when free; and as a matter of fact, when the weather becomes suddenly severe or their ailments become more insistent, it is the parish, not the police, to which they apply. they hope to be sent to a hospital. when they recover sufficiently they are out again. may this not afford a presumption that there is something wrong with the poorhouse? is it reasonable to assume that, having experienced all the bitterness and hardship due to their poverty and destitution--that knowing they will be subjected to hunger, rough usage, and exposure--they prefer to suffer these rather than trust to the tender mercy officially meted out to them, and that they do this through sheer cussedness? for my part, i do not believe that they are such fools. if they prefer to forage for themselves, knowing the difficulty of doing so, rather than live in the poorhouse, it is because, after balancing the advantage and disadvantage, they have found that anything is better for them than life in that glorious institution. to anyone who has lived there, there is no ground for surprise that they should adopt this conclusion. in the prison a man may have too much privacy. in the poorhouse there is none at all. the inmates having nothing in common but their misfortune, poverty, and destitution, are housed together and live a barrack life. some attempt is made to classify them, as though you could sort out people, in ignorance of their temperaments and tastes, by their record as disclosed to an inspector. in our own experience people sort out themselves. in any church or club you get people of the same age and of similar good character. they can all be civil to one another if they meet occasionally, but set any half-dozen of them to live together with no relief from each other's company, and there will be rebellion inside a week. in the poorhouse the inmates have to suffer one another during the whole time of their stay. some of them rebel and leave the place, even though they know that they will be more uncomfortable outside. they at least have a change of discomfort. surely the money spent in chasing them and in keeping them would yield a better return if they were boarded out in comfortable surroundings, where during the few remaining years of their pilgrimage they might get fresh air and some space to move about in. their very feebleness makes their custody less difficult, and it is no profit to them or to us to make it more arduous than it need be. if it be objected that this would be treating them better than the "deserving poor," that is only to remind us of the shameful way in which we have neglected those to whom we give that name. the "deserving poor" are the uncomplaining poor; and so long as they do not complain their deserts are likely to be disregarded, even when quoted as a reproach to those whose behaviour has attracted our censure. chapter x the better way the offender who has become reckless--if not killed they must be kept--the failure of the institution--boarding out--at present they are boarded out on liberation, but without supervision--guardians may be found when they are sought for--the result of boarding out children--the insane boarded out--unconditional liberation has failed--conditional liberation with suitable provision has not been tried--no system of dealing with men, but only a method--no necessity for the formation of the habitual offender--the one principle in penology. if our courts of first instance were places where more exhaustive enquiries took place and greater consideration were given to the needs of the cases coming before them; if the aged and destitute were cared for and prevented from offending; if minor offenders were either liberated on their own promise of good behaviour or that of their friends; if people were put on probation under conditions that gave them a favourable chance of conforming to the laws; there would still be a number to whom such treatment could not be applied. there are some people who are not fit to be at liberty. they are so reckless of their own interests and the interests of others that, when uncontrolled, they become a danger. some of them are insane, and the lunacy authority should attend to them. others, through indulging their temper, are in the way of becoming insane; but their mental unsoundness is not so marked as to cause the lunacy specialists to certify them. that is no reason why it should not be recognised. at present they annoy those around them with more or less impunity until they attain to the ideal standard of insanity, in the process of their graduation paying visits to the prison. there is no reason why they should not be dealt with from the beginning. there is only precedent taking the place of reason. they are unfit to be at liberty without supervision, because they are not capable of self-control; but many of them could be trained in the habit. at present they are allowed to run wild for a time and then severely put down. their life alternates between periods of riot and periods of repression, and their natural unsteadiness is intensified. if they knew that the period of riot had definitely ceased--that they were not again to be allowed to do what they liked if it implied harm to others--they would set about to control the temper that is in danger of finally controlling them. they boast of being able to stand our punishments, and even invite them; they might as easily be trained to qualify for our rewards had we any to offer. they may be brutal and sometimes are, though brutality is no longer a common characteristic of prisoners in prison; but it does not follow that, bad as some of them may appear, they are incorrigible. their conduct and reputation make it difficult to obtain guardianship for them. what can be done with them? if they are liberated at any time they are a menace to the safety and the comfort of the citizens. it is because some writers have recognised this that they suggest the lethal chamber as a suitable place for them. it is a bold thing to propose the wholesale killing of other people except in name of war, and if there were any danger of the proposal being adopted it is not at all likely that it would be made. it is designed to shock us, and it fails to do so because we think we know that it will not bear discussion. as a matter of fact, at present we destroy the lives of these people in another way. instead of curing them of their evil propensities we twist them still further, and kill any sense of public spirit in them as effectively in the process as we could do if we suffocated them. if they were put in the lethal chamber that would be an end to them. as it is, we have to set apart respectable citizens, not to make them better, but simply to watch them marking time before engaging in another period of disturbance. if they are not killed they must be kept. we have got past the killing stage. it is time we adopted a more rational way of keeping them. either they have to get out some day, or they have to be imprisoned till their death. in the latter case we need not trouble about them beyond seeing that they are not harshly treated, and that those over them do not develop in some degree the qualities condemned in the prisoner; but if they have to come out again it behooves us to see that they are not set free in a condition that makes them less able to conform to our laws than they were when we took them in hand. otherwise all we have gained by their incarceration is the privilege of keeping them at our expense. as all institutions have this in common, that the longer a man lives in them the less he is fitted to live outside, it follows that the shorter time a prisoner is cut off from the ordinary life in the community the less chance there is of his developing habits which will be useless to him on his return. the system of shutting people up for longer or shorter periods, and then turning them loose without supervision of a helpful kind and without provision for their living a decent life outside, is quite indefensible and has utterly failed in practice. a prison ought merely to be a place of detention, in which offenders are placed till some proper provision is made for their supervision and means of livelihood in the community. if this were recognised existing institutions would be transformed. those who refuse by their actions to obey the law of the community, and to live therein without danger to their neighbours, would as at present be put in prison; but they would not be let out except on promise to remain on probation under the supervision of some person or persons until they had satisfied, not an institution official, but the public opinion of the district in which they were placed, that the restrictions put on their liberty could safely be withdrawn. the prison in which they would be placed would not be a reformatory institution where all sorts of futile experiments might be made, but simply a place of detention in which they would be required each to attend on himself until he made up his mind to accept the greater degree of liberty implied in life outside. the door of his cell would be opened to let him out when he reached this conclusion; but it would not be opened to let him out, as at present, to play a game of hare and hounds with the police. alike in the case of the young offender and the old, the only safety for the citizens and the only chance of reformation for the culprit lie in his being boarded out under proper care and guardianship in the community. the proper guardian for one person would not be proper for another. at present the same set of guardians--the prison officials--look after all kinds of people who have offended. the first objection which proposals such as these meet is that it cannot be done. there are a great many people who use this expression when their meaning really is that they cannot do it. there is a difference. not only can offenders be boarded out, but they are and always have been boarded out. whenever a man leaves prison he has to board himself out. i do not propose to let loose on the community any more offenders than are let loose at present. indeed, i do not propose to let any of them loose at all, but simply to do for them, in their own interest and that of their neighbours, what they are doing for themselves to the great loss of us all. when any one of them does reform at present it is only by one way; either he has the necessary supervision from the friends religion has brought him, or an employer has taken an interest in him, or a fellow-workman has given him help, or some friendly hand has guided him. in no case do we give the guardian any control over him; in no case do we pay the guardian for time and work spent. i propose that we should give the power and the pay which are at present given to official persons in prison to unofficial persons outside prisons; in the reasonable hope that the money would be better expended, and in the full assurance that the results would not be worse. where are the guardians to be found? they are to be found in all parts of the country when search is made for them. the thing cannot be done wholesale. i do not suggest that the prisons should be emptied in a day. i merely indicate a mark to be aimed at and plead for an effective interference in place of the present ineffective interference. putting it another way, are there no cases in which this procedure could be adopted? there are many; there are no cases in which it could not be adopted if you had the guardians looked out, but that takes time. it would be foolish, even if it were possible, to wait until you could treat every offender before treating any. it would be wise to begin and treat as many as possible in this way at once. it is not a question of finding so many thousand men to look after so many thousand; it is merely the question of finding one man to guide and supervise another man, the people in the district being the critics and the judges of his success. at one time, in this part of scotland, the children of paupers and of criminals, and the orphans of the poor, were brought up in numbers in the poorhouse. they acquired characters in common that marked them off from children outside. when they grew out of childhood, and were turned out in the world to work and to live, many of them gravitated back to the institution or to the prison. it occurred to someone that what these children required was proper parents; and one was boarded out with a family here, and another with a family there, at less cost to the parish than had been incurred in keeping them in the poorhouse. thousands of children during the last generation have been boarded out in this fashion to their great advantage in every respect; and their after-conduct has been as good--they have been as decent and law-abiding citizens--as the children of any other class in the community. this moral and social gain has been accomplished at less financial cost than that incurred by bringing them up in institutions. it was said that the institution child had been handicapped because of the stigma of pauperism, but the boarded-out child is equally a pauper in respect that he is supported by the rates. the fact is that the stigma from which the poorhouse child suffered was not the stigma of pauperism, but the stigma of institutionalism. when the public conscience was stirred regarding the treatment of the insane, great buildings were erected and lavish provision was made for the lunatic. to these places thousands were sent for treatment. by and by it became manifest that in many cases their latter condition was worse than their first. they were better housed, better fed, better clothed, and better cared for; they were protected from the cruelty of the wicked and the neglect of the thoughtless; but they acquired evil habits from each other, and they infected some of their attendants with their vices. here and there suitable guardians were found for one and another of those whose insanity was not of such a kind as to make it necessary in the public interest that they should be confined to an institution; and now, in scotland, between five and six thousand are boarded out. that in some cases mistakes are made no one denies; but the cases are few, and on the balance there has been an enormous advantage to everyone concerned. it has become apparent that not only the inmates of institutions acquire peculiarities which mark them off from persons living outside, but the officials who live in these places also tend to develop eccentricities, and there are proposals made with the object of preventing them from living in; the idea being that the more they are brought in contact with life outside the less they are likely to become narrowed in their views and their habits, and the better they will be able to do their work in such a way as would commend itself to the public whom they serve. if people can be had who are willing for a consideration to take charge of lunatics, and to fulfil their charge to the satisfaction of the public, it is not unreasonable to suppose that on suitable terms guardians could be found for persons who have offended against the laws, and who cannot be expected to refrain from offending if returned to the surroundings which have contributed to their wrongdoing. the criminal may be presumed to have a greater sense of responsibility than the insane person, and to be more able to take a rational view of his position. in any case, it should never be forgotten that so far as the public is concerned there are only two ways of it; unless, indeed, we are prepared to kill the criminals or to immure them for life. they must either be liberated, as at present, without provision being made for their welldoing, and without guarantees being taken for their good behaviour, even if opportunities were provided; or they must be liberated on condition that they remain under some form of supervision and guardianship. unconditional liberation has ended in disaster to all concerned. conditional liberation can only be expected to produce good results if the conditions are reasonable. they must confer in every case the maximum amount of liberty consistent with the security of the public; and the final judges must be the public themselves. the offender should work out his own salvation, and show that he deserves to have all restrictions removed before they are removed. if he is merely required to do so under highly artificial conditions within the walls of an institution, he will soon learn how to get round the officials there. his conduct in the institution can afford no means for judging what his behaviour will be outside under entirely different conditions. inside he has no choice but to obey. outside he has to think and act for himself, and has opportunities of acquiring new interests and of learning habits which are likely to persist because they are those of his fellow-citizens who are free. all sorts of systems have had their trial in dealing with the offender. it has always been recognised that it was necessary to remove him from the place where he had offended. he has been transported to other lands, there to begin a new life; but the conditions under which the operation was carried out were appalling. he has been placed in association with other offenders, and left, with very little supervision, to become worse or make others worse. he has been placed in solitary confinement; cut off from company of any sort; with the result of wrecking his mind as well as his body. at present he is separated from his fellows, but he has no opportunity to come in contact with healthy social life. one system has broken down after another. all systems have failed to deal with him satisfactorily. there can be no system, but only a method; and that, the method adopted by the physician in dealing with his patient. when he has satisfied himself that the man who comes to him for advice is suffering from a certain disease, he enquires into the past history, the habits and pursuits, and the social condition of the patient; and on the information gained considers his treatment. the course of conduct prescribed for one person may be quite unsuitable for another, although both suffer from the same complaint; and the wise physician knows that he cannot leave out of account the opinion of the patient himself as to what should be done. it is just so with the offender. in many cases he is best able to tell what should be done for him; and provided it is not something that would result in harm to the community there is no reason why his opinion should not be considered, but every reason why it should. the expert may know a good deal about the offender, but it has been proved over and over again that he does not know how to reform him; for he has been given ample opportunity, and his prescriptions have ended in failure. the official person is apt to imagine that he and his methods should be above criticism. his office has been magnified for so long that he honestly believes it is necessary that it should be maintained in the interests of the public. no institution can be created which will not result in the formation of vested interests in its continuance; and yet every institution must be judged by its results, and not by the opinions of those who are set to manage it. with the improvement in the social condition of the people; with an increase in the minimum standard of living; with the abolition, or even the mitigation, of destitution, the whole complexion of things would be altered. that changes in these directions will occur there is every reason to suppose, but meanwhile many fall by the way and many take the opportunity to grasp an advantage to the loss of their neighbours. under any social condition offences may occur. whatever laws we make there may always be law-breakers. a man may become possessed by jealousy or wrath and injure his neighbour, or from envy or greed may rob him, but he can only acquire the habit of doing so with our permission. if he is checked at the beginning and placed under control, he will not acquire that habit. our present methods have not prevented the growth of the habitual offender, and they have not been designed to help those who have gone wrong to reform. the great defect in all our systems is that they are not based on a recognition of social conditions as they exist. most men can and do behave under supervision, and that supervision in many cases could be made as effective outside an institution as inside one. men prefer a greater to a lesser degree of liberty. at present they have more than one choice. they may conform to our laws and go free; or they may break our laws in the knowledge that if they are caught, on payment of a penalty either in money or in time, they may resume their wrongdoing once more. the habitual offender continues to offend because he prefers to risk imprisonment and live in his own way rather than accept the humdrum, peaceful life of his law-abiding neighbour. when he finds that there is no question of pay in the matter, but that he is simply offered the choice of good behaviour outside of prison, or incarceration within a prison, he will begin to review his position. there is only one principle in penology that is worth any consideration; it is to find out why a man does wrong, and make it not worth his while. there is nothing to be gained by assuming that individual peculiarities may be disregarded, and there is everything to be lost thereby. if we would make the best of him we should restrict the liberty of the offender as little as possible consistent with the well-being of the community, and enlarge it gradually as reason is shown for doing so. we cannot injure him without injuring ourselves, and we ought to set about to make the best rather than the worst of him. the end index index a adolescence, adoption, agents for the poor, alien, criminal, -- immigrant, ancestors, difficulty of tracing, apprenticeship in institutions, - assistance to parents, , , averages, b blind alley occupations, boarding out of children, boarding out or boarding in, boys' amusements, - boys and adventure, boys and theft, boy labour, boy, rebellious, boy recreation, boy scouts, boy trader, boy, truant, c cases, illustrative, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , cells, police, cells, prison, cells, punishment, centralisation of prison management, chaplains, prison, , charity, chastity and general conduct, children's courts, , children, cruelty to, churches and the immigrant, civil prisoners, civil servants, ability of, compulsory feeding in prison, concealment of pregnancy, - conduct, loose, in some districts, confinement, solitary, - , control of prostitutes, conversion, convicts, courts, children's, , courts, higher, - courts, police, - crime and character, crime and city life, , crime and social inequalities, crime and vice, crime and women's wages, crime in relation to drink consumed, criminal, alien, criminal class, criminal, habitual, criminal, indictments, criminal lunatics, supervision of, criminal, notorious, criminal statistics, criminals and offenders, criminals, conduct of, modified in prison, , criminology, pseudo-, science of, , d dancing clubs, deaths in prison, debt, imprisonment for, defective and the police, defects of probation system, - density of population and crime, destitute child, the, destitute, dilemma of the, destitution, , , destitution and theft, destitution through age, diet in police cells, diet, prison, - discharged prisoners' aid societies, discharged prisoners and police, discharged prisoners and their helpers, discharged prisoners, demands on, discipline, doctor and patient, domestic servants, - drink and child neglect, drink and crimes against the person, drink and cruelty, drink and malicious mischief, drink and passion, drink and personality, drink and petty offences, drink and poverty, drink and the professional thief, drink and pugnacity, drink and sexual offences, drink and social condition, drink and social evils, drink and theft, drink inducing assault, - drinking clubs, drink in the country, drink in the town, duration of control for young offenders, e education and quackery, exercise in prison, executioner and surgeon, exemplary punishment, , expiation, f faculty and its exercise, faculty and position, fallen women, - family history, family life, family responsibility, feeding, compulsory, - fellowship, , - , - fines, - , fit, the, and the unfit, flogging, football, g gambling and theft, gambling, prosecutions for, gambling, the church and, gambling, the press and, girl of the slums, girls and sexual offences, government by clerk, gratuities to prisoners, gulf between visitor and prisoner, h habits formed in prison, habitual criminal, habituals under license, heredity, - heredity and original sin, hire-purchase trading, homes for offenders, association in, homes for women, hooliganism, hospitals, prison, i imitativeness of girls, immigrant, alien, imprisonment, effect of, - incorrigible and incurable, the, inebriate homes and their inmates, - inebriate homes, defect of, inebriate homes, failure of, information, official, insane, boarding out of, insanity and drink, insanity and embezzlement, insanity and fire-raising, insanity and murder, - insanity and responsibility, insanity and theft, insanity, crimes suggestive of, insanity escaping notice, insanity inducing crime, insanity resulting from criminal indulgence, institution and family life, institution habits, institution, stigma of, institutions, common interests of inmates of, institutions, military model of, interest, personal, j jealousy and crime, - jury, scottish, k knowledge and experience, l labour, limitation of hours of, law, administration of, law and conduct, law and locality, law, the, and the poor, law, ignorance of, law, inability to obey, law, respect for, , lectures in prison, lethal chamber, , liberation, conditional, liberation, prisoner on, liberation, unconditional, library, prison, licensing, - license, spirit, penalties for breach of, m medical man and prisoners, medical officer, prison, , medicine and quackery, mental defect and destitution, mental defect and responsibility, mental defect resulting from indulgence, mental defect and theft, mental development, unequal, , mentally defective, mental faculty and social stress, mental incapacity and child neglect, method, practical, migration of town workers, migration from the country, minor offences, murder and the death sentence, murder, the element of accident in, o obedience, obscene language, occupations, blind alley, offenders, first, offenders, guardianship of, offenders, habitual, offenders, minor habitual, , offenders, occasional, officials, public supervision of, , , official utterances, overcrowding, , overcrowding and assaults, overcrowding and increase of regulations, overcrowding and sexual offences, p pain and vitality, parent and child, , , parents, assistance to, parliament, helplessness of, paternity in concealment cases, paupers, boarding out of, penalties, penalties, inequality of, , penalties, multiplication of, permanent officials, , , , pernicious literature, , personal service, physical defect and crime, pleas of insanity, , pleas, special, police and the defective, police and discharged prisoners, police and local conditions, police and military models, police and public, police casualty surgeon, police cells, , police courts, , - police court assessors, police courts, country, , police courts, summary work of, , police, difficulties of, police, duties of city, police efficiency, police force inspection, police judges, - police judges, appeals from, police, multifarious duties of, police pay, police persecution, police prosecutors, police station, police, transference of, political action, , poor, the, and the law, poverty and crime, , poverty and crime against the person, poverty and drink, poverty, the praise of, preventive detention committees, preventive detention, rules for, prevention of crimes act, , prison and military government, prison and poorhouse, prison, assaults in, prison cells, prison chaplain, , prison clothing, prison commission, prison, deaths in, prison diet, - prison exercise, prison, general plan of, prison governor, , prison habits, prison hospitals, prisons, inspectors of, prison lectures, prison library, prison matron, , prison medical officer, , prison offences, prisons, parliamentary supervision of, prison, proper function of, prison punishments, prison routine, prison rules, prison visiting committee, - prison warders, prison work, prison workshops, prisoner and doctor, prisoners and enquirers, prisoners and their friends, prisoners and police persecution, prisoners and recreation, - prisoners and religion, prisoners and religious visitors, prisoners and visitors, , , prisoner's attitude towards visitor, prisoners, civil, prisoners, classification of, prisoners, common characters of, , prisoners' complaints, prisoners' gratuities, prisoners, ideals presented to, prisoners, insane, prisoners' language, prisoner on liberation, prisoners, sick, prisoners' statements, - prisoners under death sentence, prisoners untried, prisoners, visits to, , , , - probation of offenders, probation system, procurator fiscal, property, supervision of, punishment, arbitrary, punishment, capital, - punishment cells, punishment, corporal, punishment, deterrent, punishment in the past, punishment of children, punishment, retributive, q quackery, r recreation, public, reform, the only method of, religious atmosphere, religious visitors, right and wrong, s secretary of state and prisoner, secretary of state, multiplicity of duties of, self-deceit in criminals, senile changes and crime, sentences, short and long, servant, domestic, temptations of, service, domestic, conditions of, sexes, attraction by opposite, sexes, relative position of, sheriff courts, - sheriffs, - sick prisoners, slum, the, - social ambition and dishonesty, social inequalities and crime, social intercourse, social jealousy and distrust, social opinion and conduct, social questions, quackery in, social stress and mental faculty, spirit of the crowd, statistics, criminal, - street trading, subordination, supervision of permanent officials, , , , system of probation, t theft and malicious mischief, trades, teaching of, treatment, rational principles of, u unemployed workmen, decadence of, untried prisoners, v vice and crime, visitors' attitude towards prisoners, visitors, religious, visits to prisoners, , , w warders, assaults on, warrior and worker, widows and orphans, women and bigamy, women and theft from the person, women and standard of living, women as decoy, women as wage earners, women, fallen, - women offenders, , women offenders, help for, women offenders, position of, y young offenders and license, young offenders, incorrigible, young offenders, reform of, note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) transcriber's note: minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. significant changes have been listed at the end of the text. archaic, dialect, variant and quoted spellings remain as printed. inconsistent hyphenation has been made consistent except when used for emphasis or within quotations. non-standard characters are represented as follows: [***] represents an inverted asterism (a down-pointing triangle of asterisks). [oe] represents an oe ligature. a carat character (^) indicates the following character(s) is/are superscripted. bygone punishments. * * * * * works by william andrews. mr. andrews' books are always interesting.--_church bells._ no student of mr. andrews' books can be a dull after-dinner speaker, for his writings are full of curious out-of-the-way information and good stories.--_birmingham daily gazette._ england in the days of old. a most delightful work.--_leeds mercury._ a valuable contribution to archæological lore.--_chester courant._ it is of much value as a book of reference, and it should find its way into the library of every student of history and folk-lore.--_norfolk chronicle._ mr. andrews has the true art of narration, and contrives to give us the results of his learning with considerable freshness of style, whilst his subjects are always interesting and picturesque.--_manchester courier._ literary byways. an interesting volume.--_church bells._ a readable volume about authors and books.... like mr. andrews' other works, the book shews wide, out-of-the-way reading.--_glasgow herald._ turn where you will, there is entertainment and information in this book.--_birmingham daily gazette._ an entertaining volume.... no matter where the book is opened the reader will find some amusing and instructive matter.--_dundee advertiser._ the church treasury of history, custom, folk-lore, etc. it is a work that will prove interesting to the clergy and churchmen generally, and to all others who have an antiquarian turn of mind, or like to be regaled occasionally by reading old-world customs and anecdotes.--_church family newspaper._ mr. andrews has given us some excellent volumes of church lore, but none quite so good as this. the subjects are well chosen. they are treated brightly, and with considerable detail, and they are well illustrated. the volume is full of information, well and pleasantly put.--_london quarterly review._ those who seek information regarding curious and quaint relics or customs will find much to interest them in this book. the illustrations are good.--_publishers' circular._ curious church customs. a thoroughly excellent volume.--_publishers' circular._ we are indebted to mr. andrews for an invaluable addition to our library of folk-lore and we do not think that many who take it up will slip a single page.--_dundee advertiser._ very interesting.--_to-day._ mr. andrews is too practised an historian not to have made the most of his subject.--_review of reviews._ a handsomely got up and interesting volume.--_the fireside._ * * * * * [illustration: titus oates in the pillory. (_from a contemporary print._)] bygone punishments. by william andrews.... [decoration] london: william andrews & co., , farringdon avenue, e.c. . [device: william andrews & co. the hull press] contents. page hanging hanging in chains hanging, drawing, and quartering pressing to death drowning burning to death boiling to death beheading the halifax gibbet the scottish maiden mutilation branding the pillory punishing authors and burning books finger pillory the jougs the stocks the drunkard's cloak whipping and whipping-posts public penance the repentance stool the ducking-stool the brank, or scold's bridle riding the stang index preface. about twenty-five years ago i commenced investigating the history of obsolete punishments, and the result of my studies first appeared in the newspapers and magazines. in was issued "punishments in the olden time," and in was published "old time punishments": both works were well received by the press and the public, quickly passing out of print, and are not now easily obtainable. i contributed in to the rev. canon erskine clarke's popular monthly, the _parish magazine_, a series of papers entitled "public punishments of the past." the foregoing have been made the foundation of the present volume; in nearly every instance i have re-written the articles, and provided additional chapters. this work is given to the public as my final production on this subject, and i trust it may receive a welcome similar to that accorded to my other books, and throw fresh light on some of the lesser known byways of history. william andrews. the hull press, _august th, ._ bygone punishments. hanging. the usual mode of capital punishment in england for many centuries has been, and still is, hanging. other means of execution have been exercised, but none have been so general as death at the hands of the hangman. in the middle ages every town, abbey, and nearly all the more important manorial lords had the right of hanging, and the gallows was to be seen almost everywhere. representatives of the church often possessed rights in respect to the gallows and its victims. william the conqueror invested the abbot of battle abbey with authority to save the life of any malefactor he might find about to be executed, and whose life he wished to spare. in the days of edward i. the abbot of peterborough set up a gallows at collingham, nottinghamshire, and hanged thereon a thief. this proceeding came under the notice of the bishop of lincoln, who, with considerable warmth of temper, declared the abbot had usurped his rights, since he held from the king's predecessors the liberty of the wapentake of collingham and the right of executing criminals. the abbot declared that henry iii. had given him and his successors "infangthefe and utfangthefe in all his hundreds and demesnes." after investigation it was decided that the abbot was in the wrong, and he was directed to take down the gallows he had erected. one, and perhaps the chief reason of the prelate being so particular to retain his privileges was on account of its entitling him to the chattels of the condemned man. little regard was paid for human life in the reign of edward i. in the year , not fewer than two hundred and eighty jews were hanged for clipping coin, a crime which has brought many to the gallows. the following historic story shows how slight an offence led to death in this monarch's time. in , at the solicitation of quivil, the bishop of exeter, edward i. visited exeter to enquire into the circumstances relating to the assassination of walter lichdale, a precentor of the cathedral, who had been killed one day when returning from matins. the murderer made his escape during the night and could not be found. the mayor, alfred dunport, who had held the office on eight occasions, and the porter of the southgate, were both tried and found guilty of a neglect of duty in omitting to fasten the town gate, by which means the murderer escaped from the hands of justice. both men were condemned to death, and afterwards executed. the unfortunate mayor and porter had not anything to do with the death of the precentor, their only crime being that of not closing the city gate at night, a truly hard fate for neglect of duty. a hanging reign was that of henry viii. it extended over thirty-seven years, and during that period it is recorded by stow that , criminals were executed. in bygone times were observed some curious ordinances for the conduct of the court of admiralty of the humber. enumerated are the various offences of a maritime character, and their punishment. in view of the character of the court, the punishment was generally to be inflicted at low-water mark, so as to be within the proper jurisdiction of the admiralty, the chief officer of which, the admiral of the humber, being from the year , the mayor of hull. the court being met, and consisting of "masters, merchants, and mariners, with all others that do enjoy the king's stream with hook, net, or any engine," were addressed as follows: "you masters of the quest, if you, or any of you, discover or disclose anything of the king's secret counsel, or of the counsel of your fellows (for the present you are admitted to be the king's counsellors), you are to be, and shall be, had down to the low-water mark, where must be made three times, o yes! for the king, and then and there this punishment, by the law prescribed, shall be executed upon them; that is, their hands and feet bound, their throats cut, their tongues pulled out, and their bodies thrown into the sea." the ordinances which they were bound to observe, include the following: "you shall inquire, whether any man in port or creek have stolen any ropes, nets, cords, etc., amounting to the value of ninepence; if he have, he must be hanged for the said crimes, at low-water mark." "if any person has removed the anchor of any ships, without licence of the master or mariners, or both, or if anyone cuts the cable of a ship at anchor, or removes or cuts away a buoy; for any of the said offences, he shall be hanged at low-water mark." "all breakers open of chests, or pickers of locks, coffers, or chests, etc., on shipboard, if under the value of one and twenty pence, they shall suffer forty days' imprisonment; but, if above, they must be hanged as aforesaid." "if any loderman takes upon himself the rule of any ship, and she perishes through his carelessness and negligence, if he comes to land alive with two of his company, they two may chop off his head without any further suit with the king or his admiralty." the sailor element of the population of the olden days was undeniably rude and refractory, the above rules showing that the authorities needed stern and swift measures to repress evildoers of that class. a curious derbyshire story is told, taking us back to tudor times, illustrating the strange superstitions and the power exercised by the nobility in that era. some three hundred years ago the peak of derbyshire was ruled by the iron hand of sir george vernon, who, from the boundless magnificence of his hospitality at the famous hall of haddon, was known throughout the country round as the "king of the peak." his "kingly" character was further supported by the stern severity with which he dealt with all cases of dispute or crime that came before him, even when human life was concerned; though it must be added, that if strict, he was also just. the following is an instance of his arbitrary and decisive manner of dealing with the lives of those who came beneath his control, and shows his fondness for the exercise of the summary processes of lynch-law. a wandering pedlar was one morning found dead in an unfrequented part, evidently murdered. he had been hawking his goods about the neighbourhood the previous day, and was in the evening observed to enter a certain cottage, and after that was not again seen alive. no sooner had sir george vernon become acquainted with these facts than he caused the body to be conveyed to the hall, where it was laid. the man occupying the cottage where the pedlar had last been seen alive was then summoned to attend at the hall immediately, and on arriving was met by the question, what had become of the pedlar who had gone into his cottage on the previous evening? the fellow repudiated any knowledge of him whatever, when the "king of the peak" turned round, drew off the sheet which had been placed over the dead body, and ordered that everyone present should successively approach and touch it, declaring at the same time each his innocence of the foul murder. the cottar, who had retained his effrontery until now, shrank from the ordeal, and declined to touch the body, running at once out of the hall, through bakewell village, in the direction of ashford. sir george, coming, as he well might, to the conclusion that the suspicions which had pointed to this man had been well founded, ordered his men to take horse and pursue the murderer, and, overtaking him, to hang him on the spot. they did so; he was caught in a field opposite to where the toll-bar of ashford stood, and there instantly hanged. the field is still called "galley acre," or "gallows acre," on this account. it is stated that for this exercise of his powers in summary justice sir george was called upon to appear at london and answer for the act. when he appeared in court he was the first and second time summoned to surrender as the "king of the peak," but not replying to these, the third time he was called by his proper title of sir george vernon, upon which he acknowledged his presence, stepping forward and crying "here am i." the indictment having been made out against him under the title of "king of the peak" it was of no effect, and the worst consequence to sir george was that he received an admonition. he died in , the possessor of thirty derbyshire manors, and was buried in bakewell church, where his altar tomb remains to this day. out of the beaten track of the tourist are the gallows at melton ross, lincolnshire, with their romantic history going back to the time when might and not right ruled the land. according to a legend current among the country folk in the locality long, long ago, some lads were playing at hanging, and trying who could hang the longest. one of the boys had suspended himself from a tree when the attention of his mates was attracted by the appearance on the scene of a three-legged hare (the devil), which came limping past. the lads tried to catch him, and in their eager pursuit forgot the critical position of their companion, and on their return found him dead. the gallows is believed by many to have been erected in remembrance of this event. the story has no foundation in fact. a hare crossing is regarded not only in lincolnshire, and other parts of england, but in many countries of the world, as indicating trouble to follow. [illustration: the gallows at melton ross.] in the days of old two notable men held lands in the district, robert tyrwhitt of kettleby and sir william ross of melton, and between them was a deadly feud, the outcome, in , of a slight and obscure question on manorial rights. it was alleged that john rate, steward of sir william ross, had trespassed on lands at wrawby belonging to robert tyrwhitt, digged and taken away turves for firing, felled trees, and cut down brushwood. the dispute was tried by sir william gascoigne, but it would appear that this did not altogether meet the requirements of tyrwhitt. he assembled his men in large numbers and a fight took place with the retainers of sir william ross. an action of this kind could not be tolerated even in a lawless age, and the matter was brought before parliament. after long and careful consideration, it was decided that tyrwhitt was in the wrong, and in the most abject manner he had to beg the pardon of sir william ross, but we are told it was merely "lip service." the hatred of the two families was transmitted from sire to son until the reign of james i., and then it broke out in open warfare. a battle was fought at melton ross between the followers of tyrwhitt and those of the earl of rutland, the representative of the ross family. in the struggle several servants were slain, and the king adopted stringent measures to prevent future bloodshed. he directed, so says tradition, that a gallows be erected at melton ross, and kept up for ever, and that if any more deaths should result from the old feud it should be regarded as murder, and those by whom the deadly deed was committed were to be executed on the gallows. we hear nothing more of the feud after the gallows had been erected, the action of the king being the means of settling a strife which had lasted long and kept the district in turmoil. the gallows is on the estate of the earl of yarborough, and it has been renewed by him, and according to popular belief he is obliged to prevent it falling into decay. gallows customs. when criminals were carried to tyburn for execution, it was customary for the mournful procession to stop at the hospital of st. giles in the fields, and there the malefactors were presented with a glass of ale. after the hospital was dissolved the custom was continued at a public-house in the neighbourhood, and seldom did a cart pass on the way to the gallows without the culprits being refreshed with a parting draught. parton, in his "history of the parish," published in , makes mention of a public-house bearing the sign of "the bowl," which stood between the end of st. giles's high street, and hog lane. particulars are given by pennant and other writers of a similar custom being maintained at york. it gave rise to the saying, that "the saddler of bawtry was hanged for leaving his liquor": had he stopped, as was usual with other criminals, to drink his bowl of ale, his reprieve, which was actually on its way, would have arrived in time to save his life. robert dowe, a worthy citizen of london, gave to the vicar and churchwardens of st. sepulchre's church, london, fifty pounds, on the understanding that through all futurity they should cause to be tolled the big bell the night before the execution of the condemned criminals in the prison of newgate. after tolling the bell, the sexton came at midnight, and after ringing a hand-bell, repeated the following lines:-- "all you that in the condemned hold do lie, prepare you, for to-morrow you shall die: watch all and pray; the hour is drawing near that you before the almighty must appear; examine well yourselves: in time repent, that you may not to eternal flames be sent; and when st. sepulchre's bell to-morrow tolls, the lord above have mercy on your souls!" next morning, when the sad procession passed the church on its way to tyburn, a brief pause was made at the gate of st. sepulchre's church, and the clergyman said prayers for the unfortunate criminals, and at the same time the passing-bell tolled its mournful notes. according to a notice in a recent book by the rev. a. g. b. atkinson, robert dowe was a merchant tailor, and a benefactor; he assisted john stow and others. dowe was born , and died .[ ] not a few of the highwaymen who ended their careers at the gallows appear to have been dandies. swift gives us a picture of one in "clever tom clinch." he says:-- "... while the rabble was bawling, rode stately through holborn to die of his calling; he stopped at the george for a bottle of sack, and promised to pay for it--when he came back. his waistcoat and stockings and breeches were white, his cap had a new cherry ribbon to tie't: and the maids at doors and the balconies ran and cried 'lack-a-day! he's a proper young man!'" on january st, , was hanged claude duval, a great favourite with the ladies. it is said that ladies of quality, in masks and with tears, witnessed his execution and that he lay in more than royal state at tangier tavern, st. giles's. his epitaph in the centre aisle of st. paul's, covent garden, may be regarded as a model for highwaymen:-- "here lies du vall: reader, if male thou art, look to thy purse; if female to thy heart." sixteen-string jack, hanged on november th, , was dressed in a "bright pea-green coat, and displayed an immense nosegay." frequently rioting occurred at executions, and unpopular criminals would be pelted with missiles, and meet with other indications of disfavour, but usually the sympathies of the populace were with the culprit. attempts at rescuing criminals would sometimes be made, and soldiers had to be present to ensure order. on the th august, , it is stated in "the annual register," "a terrible storm made such an impression on the ignorant populace assembled to see a criminal executed on kennington common, that the sheriff was obliged to apply to the secretaries of state for a military force to prevent a rescue, and it was near eight o'clock in the evening before he suffered." another practice appears to have been to carry the body of an executed criminal to the doors of those who had been the chief cause of the criminal being brought to justice. we read in "the annual register," for . "as soon as the execution of several criminals, condemned at last sessions of the old bailey, was over at tyburn, the body of cornelius sanders, executed for stealing about fifty pounds out of the house of mrs. white, in lamb street, spitalfields, was carried and laid before her door, where great numbers of people assembling, they at last grew so outrageous that a guard of soldiers was sent for to stop their proceedings; notwithstanding which, they forced open the door, pitched out all the salmon-tubs, most of the household furniture, piled them on a heap, and set fire to them, and, to prevent the guards from extinguishing the flames, pelted them off with stones, and would not disperse till the whole was consumed." in the same work for the following year another instance is given. "the criminal," says the record, "condemned for returning from transportation at the sessions, and afterwards executed, addressed himself to the populace at tyburn, and told them he could wish they would carry his body and lay it at the door of mr. parker, a butcher in the minories, who, it seems, was the principal evidence against him; which, being accordingly done, the mob behaved so riotously before the man's house, that it was no easy matter to disperse them." curiosities of the gallows. instances are not wanting of criminals being driven in their own carriages to the place of execution. the story of william andrew horne, a derbyshire squire, as given in the "nottingham date book," is one of the most revolting records of villainy that has come under our notice. his long career of crime closed on his seventy-fourth birthday, in , at the gallows, nottingham. he had committed more than one murder, but was tried for the death of an illegitimate child of which he was the father. his brother laid the information which at last brought him to justice. this brother requested him to give him a small sum of money so that he might leave the country, but he refused to comply. he then said he should make known his crime, but that did not frighten horne. he replied, "i'll chance it," and this gave rise to a well-known saying in the midlands, "i'll chance it as horne did his neck." he was hanged at gallows-hill, nottingham, and was driven in his carriage by his own coachman. we are told as the gloomy procession ascended the mansfield road the white locks of the hoary sinner streamed mournfully in the wind, his head being uncovered and the vehicle open, and the day very tempestuous. he met his doom with a considerable degree of fortitude, in the presence of an immense crowd of spectators, including hundreds of his derbyshire neighbours and tenantry.[ ] a year later earl ferrers was hanged for the shooting of his own steward. on may th, , he was driven from the tower to tyburn in a landau drawn by six horses. his lordship was attired in his wedding clothes, which were of a light colour and richly embroidered in silver. he was hanged with a silken rope, and instead of being swung into eternity from a common cart, a scaffold was erected under the gallows, which we think may be regarded as the precursor of the drop. mr. t. broadbent trowsdale contributed to "bygone leicestershire" an informing paper on "laurence ferrers: the murderer-earl."[ ] we reproduce an illustration of the execution from a print of the period. some interesting details occur in _notes and queries_ for may th, , respecting "the colleen bawn." it is stated that when john scanlan had been found guilty of the murder of ellen hanley, the gentry of the county of limerick petitioned for a reprieve, which was refused. they next requested that scanlan be hanged with a silken cord, though whether for its greater dignity or because it offered a possibility of more rapid strangulation in short drop, we cannot tell. the lord lieutenant thought hemp would serve the purpose. according to haydn's "dictionary of dates," scanlan was executed th march, . [illustration: execution of earl ferrers at tyburn. (_from a print of the period._)] mr. gordon fraser, of wigtown, has collected much interesting local lore respecting the town, which was made a royal burgh in . in bygone times it had the distinction of having its own public executioner. according to traditional accounts he held office on somewhat peculiar conditions. the law was, we are told, that this functionary was himself to be a criminal under sentence of death, but whose doom was to be deferred until the advance of age prevented a continuance of his usefulness, and then he was to be hanged forthwith. if, it was said, the town permitted the executioner to die by the ordinary decay of nature, and not by the process of the cord, it would lose for ever the distinguished honour of possessing a public hangman. the story of the last official who held the tenure of his life upon being able to efficiently despatch his fellows is sufficiently interesting. he was taken ill, and it was seriously contemplated to make sure of having a public hangman in the future by seizing the sick man and hanging him. his friends, hearing of this intention, propped the dying ketch up in bed, and he, being by trade a shoemaker, had the tools and materials of his trade placed before him. he made a pretence of plying his avocation, and the townsmen, thinking his lease of life was in no danger of a natural termination, allowed him to lie in peace. he then speedily passed away quietly in his bed, and the outwitted burghers found themselves without a hangman, and without hope of a successor. a good story is told by mr. fraser of the last man hanged at wigtown. his name was patrick clanachan, and he was tried and found guilty of horse-stealing. his doom was thus pronounced:--"that he be taken on the st august, , between the hours of twelve and two in the afternoon, to the gyppet at wigtown, and there to hang till he was dead." clanachan was carried from the prison to the gallows on a hurdle, and, as the people were hurrying on past him to witness his execution, he is said to have remarked, "tak' yer time, boys, there'll be nae fun till i gang." we have heard a similar anecdote respecting a criminal in london. at wicklow, in the year , a man named george manley was hanged for murder, and just before his execution he delivered an address to the crowd, as follows: "my friends, you assemble to see--what? a man leap into the abyss of death! look, and you will see me go with as much courage as curtius, when he leaped into the gulf to save his country from destruction. what will you say of me? you say that no man, without virtue, can be courageous! you see what i am--i'm a little fellow. what is the difference between running into a poor man's debt, and by the power of gold, or any other privilege, prevent him from obtaining his right, and clapping a pistol to a man's breast, and taking from him his purse? yet the one shall thereby obtain a coach, and honour, and titles; the other, what?--a cart and a rope. don't imagine from all this that i am hardened. i acknowledge the just judgment of god has overtaken me. my redeemer knows that murder was far from my heart, and what i did was through rage and passion, being provoked by the deceased. take warning, my comrades; think what would i now give that i had lived another life. courageous? you'll say i've killed a man. marlborough killed his thousands, and alexander his millions. marlborough and alexander, and many others, who have done the like, are famous in history for great men. aye--that's the case--one solitary man. i'm a little murderer and must be hanged. marlborough and alexander plundered countries; they were great men. i ran in debt with the ale-wife. i must be hanged. how many men were lost in italy, and upon the rhine, during the last war for settling a king in poland. both sides could not be in the right! they are great men; but i killed a solitary man." it will be seen from the following account, that in the olden time the cost and trouble attending an execution was a serious matter:-- to the right honourable the lord commissioners of his majesty's treasury. the humble petition of ralph griffin, esq., high sheriff of the county of flint, for the present year, , concerning the execution of edward edwards, for burglary:-- _sheweth._ that your petitioner was at great difficulty and expense by himself, his clerks, and other messengers and agents he employed in journeys to liverpool and shrewsbury, to hire an executioner; the convict being of wales it was almost impossible to procure any of that country to undertake the execution. £ s. d. travelling and other expenses on that occasion a man at salop engaged to do this business. gave him in part two men for conducting him, and for their search of him on his deserting from them on the road, and charges on inquiring for another executioner after much trouble and expense, john babington, a convict in the same prison with edwards, was by means of his wife prevailed on to execute his fellow-prisoner. gave to the wife and to babington paid for erecting a gallows, materials, and labour: a business very difficult to be done in this country for the hire of a cart to convey the body, a coffin, and for the burial and for other expenses, trouble, and petty expenses, on the occasion at least ---------- total £ ========== which humbly hope your lordships will please to allow your petitioner, who, etc. feasting at funerals in past time was by no means uncommon in great britain, and perhaps still lingers in some of the remoter parts of the country. in scotland until the commencement of the present century before or after executions, civic feasts were often held. after every execution, at paisley, says the rev. charles rogers, ll.d., the authorities had a municipal dinner. thomas potts was hanged at paisley, , at a cost to the town of £ s. - / d., of which the sum of £ s. d. was expended on a civic feast, and £ s. d. on the entertainment of the executioner and his assistants. at edinburgh, the evening prior to an execution, the magistrates met at paxton's tavern, in the exchange, and made their arrangements over liquor. these gatherings were known as "splicing the rope."[ ] during the distress which, owing to the scanty harvests of the later years of the last century, prevailed throughout the country, but more especially in the north, attention was drawn to an extremely curious privilege claimed by the public executioner of dumfries. from old times a considerable portion of the remuneration for his hanging services was in kind, and levied in the following manner. when the farmers and others had set out in the public market their produce of meal, potatoes, and similar provender, the hangman, walking along the row of sacks, thrust into each a large iron ladle, and put the result of each "dip" into his own sack. this tax, from the odious occupation of the collector, was regarded by the farmers and factors with particular abhorrence, and numerous attempts were made at different periods to put a stop to the grievous exaction, but the progress of public opinion was so little advanced, and the regard for the ancient trammels of feudal arbitrariness so deep-seated, that not until was any serious resistance made. in that year a person named johnston stood upon what he considered his rights, and would allow no acquaintance to be made between his meal and the iron ladle of the dumfries hangman. the latter, seeing in this the subversion of every fundamental principle of social order, to say nothing of the loss threatened to his means of subsistence, carried his complaint to the magistrates. consequently the dumfries hampden was forthwith haled to prison. he was not, however, long detained there, as his judges were made aware by his threats of action for false imprisonment that they were unaware of the position in which they and the impost stood in the eyes of the law. to remedy this ignorance, and be fore-armed for other cases of resistance, which it was not unlikely to suppose would follow, the corporation of dumfries, in the year we have mentioned, had recourse to legal advice. that they obtained was of the highest standing, as they applied to no less a personage than andrew crosbie, the eminent advocate, who has been immortalised in the pleydell of "guy mannering." it will be interesting to quote from the document laid before him on this occasion, containing as it does several particulars about the hangman of the town. one part describes the office, duties, and pay of the hangman, "who executes not only the sentences pronounced by the magistrates of the burgh, and of the king's judges on their circuits, but also the sentences of the sheriff, and of the justices of the peace at their quarter sessions. the town has been in use to pay his house rent, and a salary over and above. roger wilson, the present executioner, has, since he was admitted, received from the town £ of salary, and £ s. d. for a house rent. over and above this salary and rent, he and his predecessors have been in use of levying and receiving weekly (to wit each market day, being wednesday,) the full of an iron ladle out of each sack of meal, pease, beans, and potatoes, and the same as to flounders." the history of the impost is next very briefly dealt with, the gist of the information on the subject being that the tax had been levied from a period beyond the memory of the "oldest people" without quarrel or dispute. that the resistance of johnston was not an isolated instance we likewise learn from this statement of the case, for it says "there appears a fixed resolution and conspiracy to resist and forcibly obstruct the levy of this usual custom," and as the result of the tax according to the executioner's own version amounted to more than £ annually, it was of sufficient moment to make sound advice desirable. the opinion of crosbie was that rights obtained by virtue of office, and exercised from time out of mind, were legal, and might very justly be enforced. while commending the imprisonment of the dealer johnston, he suggested that the process of collection should be made more formal than appears to have been the case in this instance. officers should assist jack ketch in his _rôle_ of tax-gatherer, and all preventers should be formally tried by the magistrates. the tax continued to be levied. the farmers either gave up their meal grudgingly, or, refusing, were sent to gaol. in , when the towns-people were in the utmost need of food, riots and tumults arose in dumfries, and as one means of allaying the popular frenzy it was proposed by the leading member of the corporation, provost haig, that the ladle's harvest should be abolished, and his recommendation was immediately put into effect. the hangman of dumfries was then one joseph tate, who was the last of the officers of the noose connected officially with dumfries; for the loss of his perquisite he was allowed the sum of £ yearly. it is satisfactory to learn that the ladle itself, the only substantial relic of this curious custom, is, in all probability preserved at the present time. a footnote in w. mcdowall's valuable "history of dumfries," says: "the dumfries hangman's ladle is still to be seen we believe among other 'auld nick-nackets' at abbotsford." it was for many years lost sight of, till in , mr. joseph train, the zealous antiquary, hunted it out, and, all rusty as it was, sent it as a present to sir walter scott.[ ] horrors of the gallows. from the following paragraph, drawn from the _derby mercury_ of april th, , we have a striking example of how deplorable was the conduct of the hangman in the olden time. it is by no means a solitary instance of it being mainly caused through drinking too freely:-- "hereford, march . this day will summers and tipping were executed here for house-breaking. at the tree, the hangman was intoxicated with liquor, and supposing that there were three for execution, was going to put one of the ropes round the parson's neck, as he stood in the cart, and was with much difficulty prevented by the gaoler from so doing." in bygone times, capital punishment formed an important feature in the every-day life, and was resorted to much more than it now is, for in those "good old times" little regard was paid for human life. people were executed for slight offences. the painful story related by charles dickens, in the preface to "barnaby rudge," is an example of many which might be mentioned. it appears that the husband of a young woman had been taken from her by the press-gang, and that she, in a time of sore distress, with a babe at her breast, was caught stealing a shilling's worth of lace from a shop in ludgate hill, london. the poor woman was tried, found guilty of the offence, and suffered death on the gallows. we have copied from a memorial in the ancient burial ground of st. mary's church, bury st. edmunds, the following inscription which tells a sad story of the low value placed on human life at the close of the eighteenth century:-- reader, pause at this humble stone it records the fall of unguarded youth by the allurements of vice and the treacherous snares of seduction. sarah lloyd. on the rd april, , in the nd year of her age, suffered a just and ignominious death. for admitting her abandoned seducer in the dwelling-house of her mistress, on the rd of october, , and becoming the instrument in his hands of the crime of robbery and housebreaking. these were her last words: "may my example be a warning to thousands." hanging persons was almost a daily occurrence in the earlier years of the present century, for forging notes, passing forged notes, and other crimes which we now almost regard with indifference. george cruikshank claimed with the aid of his artistic skill to have been the means of putting an end to hanging for minor offences. cruikshank, in a letter to his friend, mr. whitaker, furnishes full details bearing on the subject. "about the year or ," wrote cruikshank, "there were one-pound bank of england notes in circulation, and unfortunately there were forged one-pound bank notes in circulation also; and the punishment for passing these forged notes was in some cases transportation for life, and in others death. [illustration: mr. g. cruikshank.] "at that time, i resided in dorset street, salisbury square, fleet street, and had occasion to go early one morning to a house near the bank of england; and in returning home between eight or nine o'clock, down ludgate hill, and seeing a number of persons looking up the old bailey, i looked that way myself, and saw several human beings hanging on the gibbet, opposite newgate prison, and, to my horror, two of them were women; and upon enquiring what the women had been hung for, was informed that it was for passing forged one-pound notes. the fact that a poor woman could be put to death for such a minor offence had a great effect upon me, and i at once determined, if possible, to put a stop to this shocking destruction of life for merely obtaining a few shillings by fraud; and well knowing the habits of the low class of society in london, i felt quite sure that in very many cases the rascals who had forged the notes induced these poor ignorant women to go into the gin-shops to get 'something to drink,' and thus _pass_ the notes, and hand them the change. [illustration: bank restriction note specimen of a bank note--not to be imitated. _submitted to the consideration of the bank directors and the inspection of the public._] "my residence was a short distance from ludgate hill (dorset street); and after witnessing the tragic-scene, i went home, and in ten minutes designed and made a sketch of this '_bank-note not to be imitated_.' about half-an-hour after this was done, william hone came into my room, and saw the sketch lying on my table; he was much struck with it, and said, 'what are you going to do with this, george?' "'to publish it,' i replied. then he said, 'will you let me have it?' to his request i consented, made an etching of it, and it was published. mr. hone then resided on ludgate hill, not many yards from the spot where i had seen the people hanging on the gibbet; and when it appeared in his shop windows, it caused a great sensation, and the people gathered round his house in such numbers that the lord mayor had to send the city police (of that day) to disperse the crowd. the bank directors held a meeting immediately upon the subject, and after that they issued _no more_ one-pound notes, and so there was _no more hanging for passing forged one-pound notes_; not only that, but ultimately no hanging even for forgery. after this sir robert peel got a bill passed in parliament for the 'resumption of cash payments.' after this he revised the penal code, and after that _there was not any more hanging or punishment of death for minor offences_." we are enabled, by the courtesy of mr. walter hamilton, the author of a favourably-known life of cruikshank, to reproduce a picture of the "bank-note not to be imitated." in concluding his letter to mr. whitaker, cruikshank said: "i consider it the most important design and etching that i have ever made in my life; for it has saved the life of thousands of my fellow-creatures; and for having been able to do this christian act, i am, indeed, most sincerely thankful." at nottingham in the olden time the culprits were usually taken to st. mary's church, where the officiating clergyman preached their funeral sermon. next they would inspect their graves, and sometimes even test their capabilities by seeing if they were large enough to hold their remains. frequently they would put on their shrouds, and in various ways try to show that they were indifferent to their impending fate. then they would be conveyed on a cart also containing their coffin to the place of execution some distance from the prison.[ ] similar usages prevailed in other places. * * * * * the bank restriction barometer; or, scale of effects on society of the bank note system, and payments in gold. by abraham franklin. [illustration] [***] _to be read from the words_ "bank restriction," _in the middle, upwards or downwards._ national prosperity promoted. . the number of useless public executions diminished. . the amelioration of the criminal code facilitated. . the forgery of bank notes at an end. . manufacturers and journeymen obtain necessaries and comforts for their wages. . the means of persons with small incomes enlarged. . a fall of rents and prices. . the circulating medium diminished. . fictitious capital and false credit destroyed. . exchanges equalized, and the gold coin preserved, if allowed to be freely exported. . the gold currency restored. _consequences, if taken off, will be as above:--viz._ the bank restriction. _consequences of its operation are as follows:--viz._ . disappearance of the legal gold coin. . the issues of bank of england notes and country bank notes extended. . paper accommodation, creating false credit, fictitious capital, mischievous speculation. . the circulating medium enormously enlarged. . rents and prices of articles of the first necessity doubled and trebled. . the income and wages of small annuitants, and artizans and labourers, insufficient to purchase necessaries for their support. . industry reduced to indigence, broken-spirited, and in the workhouse: or, endeavouring to preserve independence, lingering in despair, committing suicide, or dying broken-hearted. . the temptation to forge bank of england notes increased and facilitated. . new and sanguinary laws against forgery ineffectually enacted. . frequent and useless inflictions of the barbarous punishment of death. general distress increased. * * * * * public executions always brought together a large gathering of men and women, not always of the lowest order, indeed many wealthy people attended. "the last person publicly executed at northampton," says mr. christopher a. markham, f.s.a., "was elizabeth pinckhard, who was found guilty of murdering her mother-in-law, and who was sentenced to death by sir john jervis, on the th february, . as a rule all executions had taken place on a monday, so a rumour was spread that the execution would take place on monday, the th of march; accordingly the people came together in their thousands. they were, however, all disappointed; some of them said they wished they had the under-sheriff and they would let him know what it was to keep honest people in suspense; and one old lady said seriously that she should claim her expenses from the sheriff. however, on tuesday, the th march, mrs. pinckhard was executed before an immense number of persons, estimated at ten thousand, the day fixed having by some means or other got known."[ ] the conduct of the crowds which gathered before newgate and other prisons was long a blot on the boasted civilisation of this country, and there can be little doubt that public executions had a baneful influence on the public. it will not be without historical interest to state that the last execution for attempted murder was martin doyle, hanged at chester, august th, . by the criminal law consolidation act, passed , death was confined to treason and wilful murder. the act was passed before doyle was put on trial, but (unfortunately for him) did not take effect until november st, . michael barrett, author of the fenian explosion at clerkenwell, hanged at newgate, may th, , was the last person publicly executed in england. thomas wells (murderer of mr. walsh, station-master at dover), hanged at maidstone, august th, , was the first person to be executed within a prison. footnotes: [ ] "st. botolph, aldgate: the story of a city parish," . [ ] "the nottingham date book," . [ ] andrews's "bygone leicestershire," . [ ] rogers's "social life in scotland," . [ ] mcdowall's "history of dumfries." [ ] stevenson's "bygone nottinghamshire," . [ ] markham's "history of ancient punishments in northamptonshire," . hanging in chains. the time is not so far distant when the gibbet and gallows were common objects in this country. in old road books, prepared for the guidance of travellers, they are frequently referred to as road marks. several editions of ogilby's "itinirarium angliæ" were published between and , and a few passages drawn from this work relating to various parts of england show how frequently these gruesome instruments of death occur:-- "by the gallows and three windmills enter the suburbs of york." "leaving the forementioned suburbs [durham], a small ascent passing between the gallows and crokehill." "you pass through hare street, etc., and at ' part of epping forest, with a gallows to the left." "you pass pen-meris hall, and at ' hilldraught mill, both on the left, and ascend a small hill with a gibbet on the right." "at the end of the city [wells] you cross a brook, and pass by the gallows." "you leave frampton, wilberton, and sherbeck, all on the right, and by a gibbet on the left, over a stone bridge." "leaving nottingham you ascend a hill, and pass by a gallows." pictures found a prominent place in ogilby's pages, and we reproduce one of nottingham. [illustration: nottingham (_from ogilby's "book of roads."_)] it will be noticed that the gallows is shown a short distance from the town. it is twenty-six miles from london to east grinstead, and in that short distance were three of these hideous instruments of death on the highway, in addition to gibbets erected in lonely bylanes and secluded spots where crimes had been committed. "hangman's lanes" were by no means uncommon. he was a brave man who ventured alone at night on the highways and byways when the country was beset with highwaymen, and the gruesome gibbets were frequently in sight. hanging was the usual mode of capital punishment with the anglo-saxons. we give a representation of a gallows (_gala_) of this period taken from the illuminations to alfric's version of genesis. it is highly probable that in some instances the bodies would remain _in terrorem_ upon the gibbet. robert of gloucester, _circa_ , referring to his own times, writes:-- "in gibet hii were an honge." [illustration: anglo-saxon gallows.] "the habit of gibbeting or hanging in chains the body of the executed criminal near the site of the crime," says dr. cox, "with the intention of thereby deterring others from capital offences, was a coarse custom very generally prevalent in mediæval england. some early assize rolls of the fourteenth century pertaining to derbyshire that we have consulted give abundant proof of its being a usual habit in the county at that period. in the bodies of three men were hung in chains just outside chapel-en-le-frith, who had been executed for robbery with violence. in the same year a woman and two men were gibbeted on ashover moor for murdering one of the king's purveyors."[ ] an early record of hanging in chains is given in chauncy's "history of hertfordshire." it states, "soon after the king came to easthampstead, to recreate himself with hunting, where he heard that the bodies hanged here were taken down from the gallowes, and removed a great way from the same; this so incensed the king that he sent a writ, tested the rd day of august, anno , to the bailiffs of this borough, commanding them upon sight thereof, to cause chains to be made, and to hang the bodies in them upon the same gallowes, there to remain so long as one piece might stick to another, according to the judgment; but the townsmen, not daring to disobey the king's command, hanged the dead bodies of their neighbours again to their great shame and reproach, when they could not get any other for any wages to come near the stinking carcases, but they themselves were compelled to do so vile an office." gower, a contemporary poet, writes as follows:-- "and so after by the lawe he was unto the gibbet drawe, where he above all other hongeth, as to a traitor it belongeth." sir robert constable was gibbeted above the beverley-gate, hull, in , for high treason. "on fridaye," wrote the duke of norfolk, "beying market daye at hull, suffered and dothe hange above the highest gate of the toune so trymmed in cheynes that i thinke his boones woll hang there this hundrethe yere." according to lord dreghorn, writing in :--"the first instance of hanging in chains is in march, , in the case of macgregor, for theft, robbery, and slaughter; he was sentenced to be hanged in a chenzie on the gallow-tree till his corpse rot."[ ] philip stanfield, in , was hung in chains between leith and edinburgh for the murder of his father, sir james stanfield. in books relating to scotland, stanfield's sad story has often been told, and it is detailed at some length in chambers's "domestic annals of scotland." hanging in chains was by no means rare from an early period in the annals of england, but according to blackstone this was no part of the legal judgment. it was not until , by an act of george ii., that gibbeting was legally recognised. after execution by this statute, bodies were to be given to the surgeons to be dissected and anatomized, and not to be buried without this being done. the judge might direct the body to be hung in chains by giving a special order to the sheriff. this act made matters clear, and was the means of gibbeting rapidly increasing in this country. a gravestone in the churchyard of merrington, in the county of durham, states:-- here lies the bodies of john, jane, and elizabeth, children of john and margaret brass, who were murdered the th day of january, , by andrew mills, their father's servant, for which he was executed and hung in chains. reader, remember, sleeping we were slain: and here we sleep till we must rise again. "whoso sheddeth man's blood by man shall his blood be shed." "thou shalt do no murder." restored by subscription in . the parents of the murdered children were away from home when the awful crime was committed by their farm servant, a young man aged about nineteen, inoffensive, but of somewhat deficient intellect. it is quite clear from the facts which have come down to us that he was insane, for in his confession he stated the devil suggested the deed to his mind, saying, "kill all, kill all, kill all." the eldest of the family, a daughter, struggled with him for some time, and he was not able to murder her until after her arm was broken. she had placed it as a bolt to a door to secure the safety of the younger members of the family who were sleeping in an inner room. the full particulars of the horrible crime may be found in the pages of dodd's "history of spennymoor," published in , and are too painful to give in detail. some troopers marching from darlington to durham seized the culprit, and conveyed him with them. he was tried at durham, and condemned to be gibbeted near the scene of the murders. many stories which are related in the district are, we doubt not without foundation in fact. it is asserted that the wretch was gibbeted alive, that he lived for several days, and that his sweetheart kept him alive with milk. another tale is to the effect that a loaf of bread was placed just within his reach, but fixed on an iron spike that would enter his throat if he attempted to relieve the pangs of hunger with it. his cries of pain were terrible, and might be heard for miles. the country folk left their homes until after his death. "it is to be hoped," says mr. dodd, the local historian, "that the statement about the man being gibbeted alive is a fiction." some years ago, a local playwright dramatised the story for the spennymoor theatre, where it drew large audiences. long after the body had been removed, a portion of the gibbet remained, and was known as "andrew mills's stob," but it was taken away bit by bit as it was regarded a charm for curing toothache. robert and william bolas were gibbeted on uckington heath, near shrewsbury, in . they had murdered walter matthews and william whitcomb, who had resisted their entering a barn to steal wheat. a popular saying in shropshire is "cold and chilly like old bolas." its origin is referred back to the time the body of robert bolas was hanging in chains. at a public-house not far distant from the place one dark night a bet was made that one of the party assembled dare not proceed alone to the gibbet and ask after the state of bolas's health. the wager was accepted, and we are told the man undertaking it at once made his way to the spot. immediately upon this, another of the company, by a short cut, proceeded to the gibbet, and placed himself behind it, and a third, carrying a number of chains, concealed himself in a hedge adjoining the road. upon arriving at the gibbet, the person undertaking to make the enquiry, screwed up his courage, and timidly said in a low voice, "well, bolas, how are you?" immediately, in a shaky voice, as from a tomb, came the response from the person behind the gibbet, "cold and chilly, thank you." this unlooked-for reply completely upset the valour of the enquirer, and turning tail he fled for the inn with all possible speed. upon passing the place where the person with the chains was lying, he was followed with a loud rattling and reached his comrades in a most exhausted and frightened condition. tradition has it that the event terminated in the bold adventurer becoming, and continuing ever afterwards, a lunatic. when robert bolas was awaiting his trial he believed that it would result in an acquittal, and that he would thus be permitted to go home for the corn harvest and get his barley. he was a man of immense strength, and a great source of amusement to his fellow prisoners awaiting trial, before whom, although loaded with heavy chains, he would sing and dance with the most perfect ease. it was upon one of these occasions, when he was in a particularly happy and hopeful mood, that he is reported to have made use of the saying, which is known even to the present day, "i would that these troublesome times were over as i want to go home and get my barley." a curious story is told to the effect that the corpse of bolas was taken down from the gibbet by some of his companions and thrown into the river tern, but that it would not sink. weights were then tied to it, but still it floated upon the top of the water, and subsequently was again placed upon the gibbet. the part of the river into which it was thrown is still called "bolas's hole." [illustration: breeds's gibbet-irons, rye.] in the town hall, rye, sussex, is preserved the ironwork used in for gibbeting john breeds, a butcher, who murdered allen grebble, the mayor of rye. it appears that breeds had a dispute about some property with thomas lamb, and learning that he was about to see a friend off by a ship sailing to france on the night of march th planned his murder. mr. lamb, for reasons not stated, changed his mind, and induced his neighbour mr. grebble to take his place. on returning home and passing the churchyard, breeds rushed upon him and mortally wounded him with a knife. the unfortunate man was able to walk home, but shortly expired while seated in his chair. his servant was suspected of murdering him, but breeds's strange conduct soon brought the crime home to him. he was tried, found guilty, and condemned to death, and to be hung in chains. the gibbet was set up on a marsh situated at the west end of the town, now known as "gibbet marsh." here it stood for many years; but when all the mortal remains had dropped away from the ironwork with the exception of the upper part of the skull, the corporation took possession of it, and it is now in their custody. mr. lewis evans, has given, in his article on "witchcraft in hertfordshire," an account of the murder of john and ruth osborn, suspected of witchcraft. notice had been given at various market towns in the neighbourhood of tring that on a certain day the man and his wife would be ducked at long marston, in tring parish. on the appointed day, april nd, , says mr. evans, ruth osborn, and her husband john, sought sanctuary in the church, but the "bigotted and superstitious rioters," who had assembled in crowds from the whole district round, not finding their victims, smashed the workhouse windows and half destroyed it, caught its governor, and threatened to burn both him and the town, and searched the whole premises, even to the "salt box," for the reputed witches in vain. however, they were found at last, dragged from the vestry, and their thumbs and toes having been tied together, they were wrapped in sheets, and dragged by ropes through a pond; the woman was tried first, and as she did not sink, thomas colley, a chimney sweep, turned her over and over with a stick. john osborn, the husband, was then tested in the same way, and the trial was made three times on each of them, with such success, that the woman died on the spot, and the man a few days later. when the experiment was over, colley went round and collected money from the crowd for his trouble in shewing them such sport. the coroner's verdict, however, declared that the osborns had been murdered, and colley was tried at hertford assizes, before sir william lee, and having been found guilty of murder, was sent back to the scene of the crime under a large escort of one hundred and eight men, seven officers, and two trumpeters, and was hung on august th, , at gubblecote cross, where his body swung in chains for many years.[ ] a salford woolcomber named john grinrod (or grinret), poisoned his wife and two children in september, , and in the following march was hanged and gibbeted for committing the crime. the gibbet stood on pendleton moor. it was a popular belief in the neighbourhood:-- "that the wretch in his chains, each night took the pains, to come down from the gibbet--and walk." as can be easily surmised, such a story frightened many of the simple country folk. it was told to a traveller staying at an hostelry situated not far distant from where the murderer's remains hung in chains. he laughed to scorn the strange stories which alarmed the countryside, and laid a wager with the publican that he would visit at midnight the gibbet. the traveller said:-- "to the gibbet i'll go, and this i will do, as sure as i stand in my shoes; some address i'll devise, and if grinny replies, my wager of course, i shall lose." we are next told how, in the dark and dismal night, the traveller proceeded without dismay to the gibbet, and stood under it. says ainsworth, the lancashire novelist and poet, from whom we are quoting:-- "though dark as could be, yet he thought he could see the skeleton hanging on high; the gibbet it creaked; and the rusty chains squeaked; and a screech-owl flew solemnly by. "the heavy rain pattered, the hollow bones clattered, the traveller's teeth chattered--with cold--not with fright; the wind it blew hastily, piercingly, gustily; certainly not an agreeable night! "'ho! grindrod, old fellow,' thus loudly did bellow, the traveller mellow--'how are ye, my blade?'-- 'i'm cold and i'm dreary; i'm wet and i'm weary; but soon i'll be near ye!' the skeleton said. "the grisly bones rattled, and with the chains battled, the gibbet appallingly shook; on the ground something stirr'd, but no more the man heard, to his heels, on the instant, he took. "over moorland he dashed, and through quagmire he plashed, his pace never daring to slack; till the hostel he neared, for greatly he feared old grindrod would leap on his back. "his wager he lost, and a trifle it cost; but that which annoyed him the most, was to find out too late, that certain as fate the landlord had acted the ghost." the tragic story of eugene aram has received attention at the hands of the historian, poet, and novelist, and his name is the most notable in the annals of crime in the north of england. in the winter of - a shoemaker, named daniel clarke, who had recently married, and was possessed of money and other valuables, as it subsequently transpired not obtained in an honourable manner, was suddenly missing, and two of his associates, richard houseman and eugene aram, were suspected of knowing about his disappearance, and even at their hands foul play was suspected, but it could not be brought home to them. aram left the town, and in various places followed his calling--that of a school teacher. the mystery of daniel clarke remained for some years unsolved, but in a labourer found at knaresborough some human bones, and it was suspected that they were clarke's, and were shown to houseman, who was supposed to have a knowledge of the missing man, and in an unguarded moment said that they were not those of clarke. his manner aroused suspicion, and on being pressed he confessed that clarke was murdered and buried in st. robert's cave, and that aram and himself were responsible for his death. the cave was explored, and the skeleton of the murdered man was found. aram was arrested at lynn, where he was an usher in a school, and was esteemed alike by pupils and parents. he stoutly protested his innocence, and undertook his own defence. he read it in court, and it was regarded as a masterpiece of reasoning. it was, however, made clear from the statements of houseman, who was admitted as king's evidence, that aram had murdered clarke for gain when he was in indigent circumstances. the jury returned a verdict of guilty against aram, and he was condemned to death, and his body to be afterwards hung in chains. it appears quite clear from a careful consideration of the case that aram was guilty of the crime. he attempted, after his trial, to commit suicide by cutting his arm with a razor in two places, but when discovered, with proper remedies, his failing strength was restored. on the table was found a document giving his reasons for attempting to end his own life. on the morning of his execution he stated that he awoke about three o'clock, and then wrote the following lines:-- "come, pleasing rest, eternal slumber fall, seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all; calm and composed, my soul her journey takes, no guilt that troubles, and no heart that aches; adieu! thou sun, all bright like her arise; adieu! fair friends, and all that's good and wise." on august th, , he was hanged at york, and afterwards his body was conveyed to knaresborough forest, where it was gibbeted. hornsea people are sometimes called "hornsea pennels," after a notorious pirate and smuggler, named pennel, who murdered his captain and sunk his ship near to the place. he was tried and executed in london for the crimes, and his body, bound round with iron hoops, was sent to hornsea, in a case marked "glass." the corpse, in , was hung in chains on the north cliff. long ago the cliff with its gibbet has been washed away by the sea. on the night of june th, , a man named corbet, a rat-catcher and chimney-sweep, living at tring, entered down the chimney the house of richard holt, of bierton, buckinghamshire, and murdered him in his bed-chamber. for this crime corbet was hanged and gibbeted in a field not far distant from the house where the murder was committed. the gibbet served as a gallows. a correspondent of the _bucks herald_ says in he visited bierton feast, and at that period the gibbet was standing, with the skull of the murderer attached to the irons. some years later the irons were worn away by the action of the swivel from which they were suspended, fell, and were thrown into the ditch, and lost sight of. francis neale, of aylesbury, blacksmith, made the gibbet, or as he calls it in his account the gib, and his bill included entries as follow:-- £ s. d. "july , a.d. . to lb. spikes " " iron for gib-post " " nails for the gib " " hund'd tenter hooks " " the gib " these figures were copied from the original accounts by the late robert gibbs, the painstaking local chronicler of aylesbury. this is understood to have been the last gibbet erected in buckinghamshire.[ ] terror and indignation were felt by the inhabitants of the quiet midland town of derby on christmas day, in the year , as the news spread through the place that on the previous evening an aged lady had been murdered and her house plundered. an irishman named matthew cocklain disappeared from the town, and he was suspected of committing the foul deed. he was tracked to his native country, arrested, and brought back to derby. at the following march assizes, he was tried and found guilty of the crime, sentenced to be hanged, and afterwards gibbeted. his body was for some time suspended in the summer sun and winter cold, an object of fright to the people in the district. christmas eve had come round once more, and at a tavern, near the gibbet, a few friends were enjoying a pipe and glass around the cheerful burning yule-log, when the conversation turned to the murderer, and a wager was made that a certain member of the company dare not venture near the grim gibbet at that late hour of night. a man agreed to go, and take with him a basin of broth and offer it to matthew cocklain. he proceeded without delay, carrying on his shoulder a ladder, and in his hand a bowl of hot broth. on arriving at the foot of the gibbet, he mounted the ladder, and put to cocklain's mouth the basin, saying, "sup, matthew," but to his great astonishment, a hollow voice replied, "it's hot." he was taken by surprise; but, equal to the occasion, and at once said, "blow it, blow it," subsequently throwing the liquid into the face of the suspended body. he returned to the cosy room of the hostelry to receive the bet he had won. his mate, who had been hid behind the gibbet-post, and had tried to frighten him with his sepulchral speech, admitted that the winner was a man of nerve, and richly entitled to the wager. it has been asserted by more than one local chronicler that john whitfield, of coathill, a notorious north country highwayman, about , was gibbeted alive on barrock, a hill a few miles from wetherell, near carlisle. he kept the countryside in a state of terror, and few would venture out after nightfall for fear of encountering him. he shot a man on horseback in open daylight; a boy saw him commit the crime, and was the means of his identification and conviction. it is the belief in the district that whitfield was gibbeted alive, and that he hung for several days in agony, and that his cries were heartrending, until a mail-coachman passing that way put him out of his misery by shooting him. on the night of july rd, , john spencer murdered william yeadon, keeper of the scrooby toll-bar, and his mother, mary yeadon. the brutal crime was committed with a heavy hedge-stake. the culprit was soon caught, and tried at nottingham. it transpired that the prisoner was pressed for money, and that the murders were committed to obtain it. he was found guilty, and condemned to be executed at nottingham, and then his body was to be hung in chains near scrooby toll-bar. in his hand was placed the hedge-stake with which he had committed the murders. after the body had been suspended a few weeks the body was shot through by the sergeant of a band of soldiers passing that way with a deserter. for the offence he was followed and reported, tried by court-martial, and reduced to the ranks. this disturbance of the body caused its rapid decomposition, and the odour blown over the neighbouring village was most offensive.[ ] several instances of persons being gibbeted for robbing the mails have come under our notice. in the columns of the _salisbury journal_ for august th, , it is stated:--"the sentence of william peare for robbing the mail near chippenham stands unreversed.... he will be executed at fisherton gallows, on tuesday morning, about o'clock, and his body will then be inclosed in a suit of chains, ingeniously made by mr. wansborough and conveyed to chippenham, and affixed to a gibbet erected near the spot where the robbery was committed." the allusion to "unreversed" has reference to the common practice of condemning people to death, and shortly afterwards granting a pardon. the issue of the paper for the following week records that: "on tuesday morning peare was executed at fisherton gallows.... the remaining part of the sentence was completed on wednesday, by hanging the body in green lane, near chippenham, where it now is; a dreadful memento to youth, how they swerve from the paths of rectitude, and transgress the laws of their country." the body of peare was not permitted to remain long on the gibbet. we see it is stated in a paragraph in the same newspaper under date of november th, , that on the th of october at night, the corpse was taken away, and it was supposed that this was done by some of his cricklade friends. near the devil's punch bowl, at hind head, an upright stone records the murder of a sailor, and the inscription it bears is as under:-- erected in detestation of a barbarous murder committed here on an unknown sailor, on september th, , by edwd. lonegon, michl. casey, and jas. marshall, who were taken the same day, and hung in chains near this place. "_whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed_." --gen. chap. , ver. . and on the back:-- this stone was erected by order and at the cost of james stilwell, esq., of cosford, . cursed be the man who injureth or removeth this stone. the stone was removed from its original position on the old portsmouth road, which ran at a higher level, and placed where it now stands some years since. the three men who committed the crime were arrested at rake, near petersfield, and in their possession was found the clothing of the unfortunate sailor. they were tried at kingston, and found guilty of murder, and condemned to be hanged and gibbeted near where they had committed the foul deed. on april th, , the sentence was carried into effect. the gibbet remained for three years, and was then blown down in a gale. the hill is still known as gibbet hill. the murdered man was buried in thursley churchyard, and over his remains was erected a gravestone, bearing a carving representing three men killing the sailor, and an inscription as follows:-- in memory of a generous, but unfortunate sailor, who was barbarously murder'd on hindhead, on september th, , by three villains, after he had liberally treated them, and promised them his further assistance, on the road to portsmouth. when pitying eyes to see my grave shall come, and with a generous tear bedew my tomb; here shall they read my melancholy fate-- with murder and barbarity complete. in perfect health, and in the flower of age, i fell a victim to three ruffians' rage; on bended knees, i mercy strove t'obtain their thirst of blood made all entreaties vain, no dear relations, or still dearer friend, weeps my hard lot or miserable end. yet o'er my sad remains (my name unknown) a generous public have inscribed this stone. on february nd, , two dissolute young men named abraham tull and william hawkins, aged respectively nineteen and seventeen, waylaid and murdered william billimore, an aged labourer. they stole his silver watch, but were too frightened to continue their search for money which they expected to find, and made a hasty retreat; but they were soon overtaken, and were subsequently, at reading assizes, tried and condemned to be gibbeted on ufton common within sight of their homes. for many years their ghastly remains were suspended to gibbet posts, much to the terror and annoyance of the people in the district. no attempt was made to remove the bodies, on account of it being regarded as unlawful, until mrs. brocas, of beaurepaire, then residing at wokefield park, gave private orders for them to be taken down in the night and buried, which was accordingly done. during her daily drives she passed the gibbeted men and the sight greatly distressed her, and caused her to have them taken down.[ ] the ironwork of the gibbets are in the reading museum. william lewin, in , robbed the post-boy carrying the letters from warrington to northwich, between stretton and whitley. he managed to elude the agents of the law for three years, but was eventually captured, tried at chester, and found guilty of committing the then capital offence of robbing the mail. he was hanged at chester. says a contemporary account:--"his body is hung in chains on the most elevated part of helsby tor, about eight miles from chester; from whence it may be conspicuously seen, and, by means of glasses, is visible to the whole county, most parts of lancashire, flintshire, denbighshire, shropshire, derbyshire, etc., etc."[ ] about this period there were three gibbets along the road between warrington and chester.[ ] only five months after william lewin had been gibbeted for robbing the mails, almost in the same locality edward miles robbed and murdered the post-boy carrying the liverpool mail-bag to manchester on september th, . for this crime he was hanged, and suspended in chains on the manchester road, near "the twysters," where the murder had been committed. in the irons in which the body had been encased were dug up near the site of the gibbet, and may now be seen in the warrington museum. our illustration is reproduced from a drawing in mr. madeley's work, "some obsolete modes of punishment." it will be observed the irons which enclosed the head are wanting. [illustration: miles's gibbet irons, warrington museum.] spence broughton was tried at york, in , for robbing the mail running between sheffield and rotherham. he was found guilty, and condemned to be executed at york, and his body to be hung in chains near the place where the robbery had been committed. the gibbet-post (which was the last put up in yorkshire), with the irons, the skull, and a few other bones and rags, was standing in - , when it was taken down.[ ] we learn from "the norfolk and norwich remembrancer" ( ), that on may nd, , the gibbet on which payne, the pirate, was hung about years previously, upon yarmouth north denes, was taken down by order of the corporation. lincolnshire history supplies some curious details respecting the gibbeting of a man named tom otter, in the year . we are told that he was compelled by the old poor law regulations to wed a girl he had injured. he lured her into a secluded spot the day after their marriage, and deliberately murdered her. according to the prevalent custom, tom otter's corpse was hung in chains. the day selected for that purpose inaugurated a week of merry-making of the most unseemly character. booths were pitched near the gibbet, and great numbers of the people came to see the wretch suspended. it is reported that some years later, when the jaw bones had become sufficiently bare to leave a cavity between them, a bird built its nest in this unique position. the discovery of nine young ones therein gave rise to the following triplet still quoted in the neighbourhood:-- "there were nine tongues within the head, the tenth went out to seek some bread, to feed the living in the dead." the gibbet was standing until the year , when it was blown down. at the derby march assizes, , a young man named anthony lingard was tried and convicted for murdering hannah oliver, a widow, who kept the turnpike-gate at wardlow miers, in the parish of tideswell. the following account of the crime is from the _derby mercury_, for march th, :-- "on saturday morning, anthony lingard, the younger, aged , was put to the bar, charged with the murder (by strangulation) of hannah oliver, a widow woman, aged years, who kept the turnpike gate at wardlow miers, in the parish of tideswell, in this county. "it appeared in evidence that the prisoner committed the robbery and murder in the night of sunday the th of january last; that he took from the house several pounds in cash and notes, and a pair of new woman's shoes; that immediately after the deed was perpetrated, he went to a young woman in the neighbourhood, who was pregnant by him, and offered to give her some money with a view to induce her to father the child upon some other person; that he gave her the shoes, and also some money; but it being rumoured that hannah oliver had been murdered, and that a pair of shoes had been taken from her, the young woman returned the shoes to the prisoner, who said she had no occasion to be afraid, for that he had had them of a person in exchange for a pair of stockings. the shoes, however, were returned to him; and the evidence adduced in respect to them, as well as in respect to a great variety of circumstances connected with the horrid transaction, was given in such a very minute detail of corroborative and satisfactory proofs, as to leave no doubt in the minds of everyone that the prisoner was the person who had committed the murder, independent of his own confession, which was taken before the magistrates, previous to his committal. "the trial on the part of the prosecution being closed, and the prisoner not having any witness to call, the learned judge carefully summed up the evidence to the jury, who after a few minutes returned a verdict of guilty. "his lordship then passed the awful sentence of the law upon the prisoner, which was done by the learned judge in the most solemn and impressive manner, entreating him to make the best use of his time, and to prepare himself during the short period he had to live, for the great change he was about to undergo. "since his condemnation he conducted himself with greater sobriety than he had manifested before his trial; but his temper was obstinate, and his mind lamentably ignorant: and being totally unacquainted with religious considerations, he exhibited very imperfect signs of real penitence, and but little anxiety respecting his future state. he acknowledged the crime for which he was about to suffer the sentence of the law, but was reluctantly induced to pronounce his forgiveness of the young woman who was the principal evidence against him. "at o'clock yesterday he was brought upon the drop in front of the county gaol, and after a short time occupied in prayer with the chaplain (who had previously attended him with the most unremitting and tender assiduity), he was launched into eternity. he met his fate with a firmness which would deserve the praise of fortitude if it was not the result of insensibility. he appeared but little agitated or dejected by his dreadful situation. "let the hope be encouraged that his example may operate as a warning to those among the multitude of spectators, who might not before feel all the horror with which vice ought to be regarded. when wickedness is thus seen not in its allurements, but in its consequences, its true nature is evidenced. it is always the offspring of ignorance and folly, and the parent of long enduring misery. "before the judge left the town, he directed that the body of lingard should be hung in chains in the most convenient place near the spot where the murder was committed, instead of being dissected and anatomized." the treasurer's accounts for derbyshire, for - , show, says dr. cox, that the punishment of gibbeting involved a serious inroad on the county finances. the expenses for apprehending anthony lingard amounted to £ s. d., but the expenses incurred in the gibbeting reached a total of £ s. d., and this in addition to ten guineas charged by the gaoler for conveying the body from derby to wardlow.[ ] a paragraph in rhodes's "peak scenery," first published in , is worth reproducing:--"as we passed along the road to tideswell," writes the author, "the villages of wardlow and litton lay on our left.... here, at a little distance on the left of the road, we observed a man suspended on a gibbet, which was but newly erected. the vanity of the absurd idea of our forefathers, in thinking that a repulsive object of this kind would act as a deterrent of crime, was strikingly shown in the case of this wardlow gibbet." it is related of hannah pecking, of litton, who was hung on march nd, , at the early age of sixteen, for poisoning jane grant, a young woman of the same village, that she "gave the poison in a sweet cake to her companion, as they were going to fetch some cattle out of a field, near to which stood the gibbet-post of anthony lingard." the gibbet was taken down on april th, , by order of the magistrates, and the remains of lingard buried on the spot. we give a drawing of lingard's gibbet-cap, which is now in the museum at belle vue, manchester. the rev. dr. cox contributed to the columns of _the antiquary_, for november, , some important notes on this theme. "it was usual," says dr. cox, "to saturate the body with tar before it was hung in chains, in order that it might last the longer. this was done with the bodies of three highwaymen about the middle of last century, gibbeted on the top of the chevin, near belper, in derbyshire. they had robbed the north coach when it was changing horses at the inn at hazelwood, just below the summit of the chevin. after the bodies had been hanging there for a few weeks, one of the friends of the criminals set fire at night time to the big gibbet that bore all three. the father of our aged informant, and two or three others of the cottagers near by, seeing a glare of light, went up the hill, and there they saw the sickening spectacle of the three bodies blazing away in the darkness. so thoroughly did the tar aid this cremation that the next morning only the links of the iron remained on the site of the gibbet." [illustration: lingard's gibbet-cap.] on the high road near brigg, in , a murder was committed by a chimney-sweep. at the lincoln assizes he was condemned to be hanged, and hung in chains on the spot where the tragedy occurred. the inhabitants of brigg petitioned against the gibbeting, as it was so near the town, and consequently that part of the sentence was remitted. a strike occurred at jarrow colliery, in , and mr. nicholas fairles, one of the owners, was a magistrate for the county of durham, the only one in the district, and he took an active part in preserving peace during the troublesome time. he was seventy-one years of age, and greatly esteemed for his kindly disposition and high moral character. on june th he had been transacting some business at the colliery, and was riding home to south shields on his pony. when he had reached a lonely place, two men attacked him, dragging him from his horse, because he refused to give them money. they then felled him to the ground with a bludgeon, and as he lay helpless on the ground, heavy stones were used to end his life. he was left for dead, but on being found and carried to a neighbouring house, it was discovered that he was alive, and after a few hours he recovered consciousness, and was able to give the names of the two men who had attempted to murder him, whom he knew, and who were jarrow colliers, william jobling and ralph armstrong. after lingering a few days, mr. fairles died. jobling was soon caught, but armstrong escaped, and was never brought to justice. jobling was tried at durham assizes, and condemned to be hanged and gibbeted. on august rd he was executed at durham, and his body was subsequently escorted by fifty soldiers and others to jarrow slake, and set up on a gibbet feet high. the post was fixed into a stone, weighing about thirty hundredweight, and sunk into the water a hundred yards from the high-water mark, and opposite the scene of the tragedy. the gruesome spectacle was not permitted to remain, for on the night of the st of the same month it was erected it was taken down, it is supposed, by some of his fellow workmen, and the body was quietly buried in the south-west corner of jarrow churchyard. it only remains to be added that during the construction of the tyne dock, the iron framework in which jobling's body was suspended was found, and was in presented by the directors of the north eastern railway company to the newcastle society of antiquaries. on th april, , passed away at the advanced age of , jobling's widow, and it has been stated, with her death the last personal link with the gibbet was severed. the last man gibbeted in this country was james cook, a bookbinder, at leicester. he was executed for the murder of john paas, a london tradesman, with whom he did business. cook's body was suspended on a gibbet thirty-three feet high, on saturday, august th, , in saffron lane, aylestone, near leicester. the body was soon taken down, and buried on the spot where the gibbet stood, by order of the secretary of state, to put a stop to the disturbances caused by the crowds of people visiting the place on a sunday.[ ] some little time before the execution of a criminal who was also condemned to be hung in chains, it was customary for the blacksmith to visit the prison and measure the victim for the ironwork in which he was to be suspended. hanging alive in chains. nearly every district in england has its thrilling tale of a man hanging alive in chains. some writers affirm the truth of the story, while others regard it as merely fiction. we are not in a position to settle the disputed question. blackstone, in his "commentaries," published in , clearly states that a criminal was suspended in chains after execution. holinshed, who died about the year , in his famous "chronicle of england," a work which supplied shakespeare with materials for historical dramas, states:--"in wilful murder done upon pretended (premeditated) malice, or in anie notable robbery, the criminal is either hanged alive in chains near the place where the act was committed, or else, upon compassion taken, first strangled with a rope, and so continueth till his bones come to nothing. where wilful manslaughter is perpetrated, besides hanging, the offender hath his right hand commonly stricken off." we glean an important item from "england's mourning garment," written by henry chettle, a poet and dramatist, born about the year , and who died in . he lived in the days of queen elizabeth. "but for herselfe," wrote chettle, "she was alwayes so inclined to equitie that if she left justice in any part, it was in shewing pittie; as in one generall punishment of murder it appeared; where-as before time there was extraordinary torture, as hanging wilfull murderers alive in chains; she having compassion like a true shepheardesse of their soules, though they were often erring and utterly infected flock, said their death satisfied for death; and life for life was all that could be demanded; and affirming more, that much torture distracted a dying man." this subject is fully discussed in _notes and queries_, th series, volumes x. and xi. a work entitled "hanging in chains," by albert hartshorne, f.s.a., (london, ), contains much out-of-the-way information on this theme. bewick, the famous artist and naturalist, in his pictures of english scenery introduced the gibbet "as one of the characteristics of the picturesque." the old custom of hanging the bodies of criminals in chains was abolished by statute on july th, , and thus ends a strange chapter in the history of old england. [illustration: the gibbet (_from bewick's "british birds_.")] footnotes: [ ] cox's "three centuries of derbyshire annals," . [ ] m'lauria (lord dreghorn) "arguments and decisions," etc., edinburgh, . [ ] andrews's "bygone hertfordshire," . [ ] sheahan's "history of buckinghamshire," . [ ] stevenson's "bygone nottinghamshire," . [ ] sharp's "history of ufton court," . [ ] trial of william lewin, , chester, n.d. [ ] madeley's "some obsolete modes of punishment," warrington, . [ ] "criminal chronology of york castle," . [ ] cox's "three centuries of derbyshire annals," . [ ] see "bygone leicestershire," edited by william andrews, . hanging, drawing, and quartering. hanging, drawing, and quartering, with their attendant horrors, have been termed "godly butchery," on account of the divine authority which was adduced to support their continuance. lord coke finds in the bible a countenance for each of the horrid details of the punishment. we see that the texts supposed to bear upon the subject are raked from all parts of the scriptures with great ingenuity, but with, in our modern eyes, not much of either humanity or probability of there being anything more than a forced reference. the sentence on traitors was pronounced as follows: "that the traitor is to be taken from the prison and laid upon a sledge or hurdle [in earlier days he was to be dragged along the surface of the ground, tied to the tail of a horse], and drawn to the gallows or place of execution, and then hanged by the neck until he be half dead, and then cut down; and his entrails to be cut out of his body and burnt by the executioner; then his head is to be cut off, his body to be divided into quarters, and afterwards his head and quarters to be set up in some open places directed." the headsman, or hangman, commonly sliced open the chest and cut thence the heart, plucking it forth and holding it up to the populace, saying, "behold the heart of a traitor." the members were disposed on the gates of the cities, and in london on london bridge, or upon westminster hall. it is asserted that this mode of capital punishment was first inflicted in , on william marise, pirate, and the son of a nobleman. for a long period this disgusting punishment was the penalty for high treason. a late instance, and the last in the provinces, occurred at derby in . at this period distress prevailed to an alarming extent in many parts of the country, but no where was it more keenly felt than in the midland counties. at the instigation of paid government spies, the poor, suffering people were urged to overthrow the parliament. the plot was planned in a public house called the white horse, at pentrich, derbyshire. a few half-starved labouring men took part in the rising, being assured by the perjured spies that it would simultaneously occur throughout the breadth and length of the land, and that success must crown their efforts. the deluded men had not advanced far before they were scattered by the yeomanry, and the chief movers taken prisoners. it was the object of the government to terrify the public and cripple all attempts at obtaining reform. four judges were sent to derby to try the poor peasants for rebellion, and commenced their duties on the th and ended them on october th. three of the ringleaders, jeremiah brandreth, william turner, and isaac ludlam, were found guilty of high treason, and the capital sentence passed upon them; the greater part of the other prisoners were condemned to transportation. little time was lost in carrying out the sentence; the death warrant for the execution was signed on november st by the prince regent, and it remitted only quartering, and directed that the three men be hung, drawn, and beheaded. it appears that the high sheriff, after consultation with the surgeon of the prison and other officials, proposed taking off the heads of the unfortunate men with a knife, and the operation to be performed by a person skilled in anatomy. on this being brought under the notice of the authorities in london, it was, however, decided that the execution should be carried out according to old usage with the axe. bamford, a blacksmith, of derby, was entrusted with an order for two axes, to be made similar to the one used at the tower. they measured eight and a half inches across the edge and were one foot long. on the morning of november th, before execution, the three men received sacrament. the town blacksmith knocked off the irons by which they were loaded, and substituted others that were fitted with locks, so that they might easily be removed. a simply made hurdle was then brought in the prison-yard, and on it they were pulled by a horse to the gallows. it was so roughly constructed that the poor fellows had to be held to keep them on it. "on mounting the scaffold in front of the gaol," says dr. cox, to whom we are indebted for many details in this chapter, "brandreth exclaimed, 'it is all oliver and castlereagh;' turner, following him, also called out, 'this is all oliver and the government; the lord have mercy on my soul.' they hung from the gallows for half-an-hour. on the platform, in front of the gallows, was placed the block and two sacks of sawdust, and on a bench two axes, two sharp knives, and a basket. the block was a long piece of timber supported at each end by pieces a foot high, and having a small batten nailed across the upper end for the neck to rest upon. the body of brandreth was first taken down from the gallows, and placed face downwards on the block. the executioner, a muscular derbyshire coal miner, selected by the sheriff for his proficiency in wielding the pick, was masked, and his name kept a profound secret. brandreth's neck received only one stroke, but it was not clean done, and the assistant (also masked) finished it off with a knife. then the executioner laid hold of the head by the hair, and holding it at arm's length, to the left, to the right, and in front of the scaffold, called out three times--'behold the head of the traitor, jeremiah brandreth.' the other two were served in like manner. turner's neck received one blow and the knife had to be applied, but ludlam's head fell at once. the scaffold was surrounded by a great force of cavalry with drawn swords, and several companies of infantry were also present. the space in front of the gaol was densely packed with spectators."[ ] "when the first stroke of the axe was heard," says an eye-witness, "there was a burst of horror from the crowd, and the instant the head was exhibited, there was a terrifying shriek set up, and the multitude ran violently in all directions, as if under the influence of a sudden frenzy."[ ] the poet shelley is said to have witnessed the painful spectacle. on the previous day had passed away in childbirth the princess charlotte. the two circumstances formed the subject of an able pamphlet, drawing a contrast between the deaths, and furnishing a description of the scene within and without the prison at derby. "when edward turner (one of those transported)," says shelley, "saw his brother dragged along upon the hurdle, he shrieked horribly, and fell in a fit, and was carried away like a corpse by two men. how fearful must have been their agony sitting in solitude that day when the tempestuous voice of horror from the crowd told them that the head so dear to them was severed from the body! yes, they listened to the maddening shriek which burst from the multitude; they heard the rush of ten thousand terror-stricken feet, the groans and hootings which told them that the mangled and distorted head was then lifted in the air." the title of shelley's pamphlet is "we pity the plumage, but forget the dying bird. an address to the people on the death of the princess charlotte. by the hermit of marlow." on the same night the three executed men were buried without any religious service in one grave in the churchyard of st. werburgh, derby. when dr. cox was preparing for the press his "three centuries of derbyshire annals," he saw the block on which these men were beheaded and supplies a description of it as follows: "it consists of two two and a half inch planks fastened together; it is six feet six inches long by two feet wide. six inches from one end a piece of wood is nailed across three inches high. the whole is tarred over, but the old warder drew our attention to the fact that, though the cell where it is kept is very dry, the wood is still in places damp. it is a gaol tradition that the blood of these unhappy men shed in has never and will never dry." on may st, , the cato street conspirators were, after death by hanging, beheaded. this is the latest instance of the ancient custom being maintained in this country. in connection with this subject we may perhaps be permitted to draw attention to a chapter by us in "england in the days of old" ( ), entitled "rebel heads on city gates;" it includes much curious information bearing on this theme. we must not omit to state that the great agitator against the continuance of the barbarities of hanging, drawing and quartering was sir samuel romilly, who in the reign of george iii., brought upon himself the odium of the law-officers of the crown, who declared he was "breaking down the bulwarks of the constitution." by his earnest exertions, however, the punishment was carried out in a manner more amenable to the dictates of mercy and humanity. footnotes: [ ] cox's "three centuries of derbyshire annals," . [ ] the examiner. pressing to death. one of the most barbarous and cruel of the punishments of our english statutes was that distinguished by the name of _peine forte et dure_, or pressing to death with every aggravation of torture. it was adopted as a manner of punishment suitable to cases where the accused refused to plead, and was commuted about the year from the older method of merely starving the prisoner to death. at that time the alteration was considered to be decidedly according to the dictates of humanity and mercy, as the sooner relieving the accused from his sufferings. such was the small value set upon human life in those dark days of british justice. the manner in which this exceedingly great torture was inflicted was as follows: "that the prisoner shall be remanded to the place from whence he came, and put in some low, dark room, and there laid on his back, without any manner of covering except a cloth round his middle; and that as many weights shall be laid upon him as he can bear, _and more_; and that he shall have no more sustenance but of the worst bread and water, and that he shall not eat the same day on which he drinks, nor drink the same day on which he eats; and he shall so continue till he die." at a later period, the form of sentence was altered to the following: "that the prisoner shall be remanded to the place from whence he came, and put in some low, dark room; that he shall lie without any litter or anything under him, and that one arm shall be drawn to one quarter of the room with a cord, and the other to another, and that his feet shall be used in the same manner, and that as many weights shall be laid on him as he can bear, and more. that he shall have three morsels of barley bread a day, and that he shall have the water next the prison, so that it be not current, and that he shall not eat," etc. the object of this protracted punishment was to allow the victim, at almost every stage of the torture, to plead, and thus allow the law to take its ordinary course. the object of the persons who have refused to plead was, that any person who died under the _peine forte et dure_ could transmit his estates to his children, or will them as he desired; whereas, if he were found guilty, they would be forfeited to the crown. in connection with this, it may be mentioned that when the practice of pressing to death had become nearly extinct, prisoners who declined to plead were tortured, in order to compel them to do so, by twisting and screwing their thumbs with whipcord. in , a woman named mary andrews was subjected to this punishment. after bearing with fortitude the first three whipcords, which broke from the violence of the twisting, she submitted to plead at the fourth. baron carter, at the cambridge assizes, in , ordered a prisoner, who refused to plead, to have his thumbs twisted with cords, and when that was without avail, inflicted the higher penalty of pressing. baron thompson, about the same time, at the sussex assizes, treated a prisoner in a precisely similar manner. a like method was pursued in , with nathaniel hawes, a prisoner who refused to plead; when the cord proved inefficacious, a weight of pounds was laid upon him, after which he decided to plead. the same year seems prolific of cases of this character, there being particulars of an instance in the _nottingham mercury_ of january th, . they are included in the london news, and are as follow: "yesterday the sessions began at the old bailey, where several persons were brought to the bar for highway robbery, etc. among them were the highwaymen lately taken at westminster, two of whom, namely, thomas green, _alias_ phillips, and thomas spiggot, refusing to plead, the court proceeded to pass the following sentence upon them: 'that the prisoner shall be,' etc. [the usual form, as given above]. the former, on sight of the terrible machine, desired to be carried back to the sessions house, where he pleaded not guilty. but the other, who behaved himself very insolently to the ordinary who was ordered to attend him, seemingly resolved to undergo the torture. accordingly, when they brought cords, as usual, to tie him, he broke them three several times like a twine-thread, and told them if they brought cables he would serve them after the same manner. but, however, they found means to tie him to the ground, having his limbs extended; but after, enduring the punishment for an hour, and having three or four hundredweight put on him, he at last submitted to plead, and was carried back, when he pleaded not guilty." the rev. mr. willette, the ordinary of the prison, in , published the "annals of newgate," and from these we learn further particulars of the torture of the highwayman, thomas spiggot. "the chaplain found him lying in the vault upon the bare ground, with pounds weight upon his breast, and then prayed with him, and at several times asked him why he should hazard his soul by such obstinate kind of self-murder. but all the answer that he made was, 'pray for me; pray for me.' he sometimes lay silent under the pressure as if insensible to the pain, and then again would fetch his breath very quick and short. several times he complained that they had laid a cruel weight upon his face, though it was covered with nothing but a thin cloth, which was afterwards removed and laid more light and hollow; yet he still complained of the prodigious weight upon his face, which might be caused by the blood being forced up thither and pressing the veins so violently as if the force had been externally on his face. when he had remained for half-an-hour under this load, and fifty pounds weight more laid on, being in all four hundred, he told those who attended him he would plead. the weights were at once taken off, the cords cut asunder; he was raised up by two men, some brandy put into his mouth to revive him, and he was carried to take his trial." the practice of _peine forte et dure_ gave the name of "press-yard" to a part of newgate, and the terrible machine above referred to was probably in the form of a rack. we require to go further back to find instances of a fatal termination to the punishment. such a case occurred in . one major strangeways and his sister held in joint possession a farm, but the lady becoming intimate with a lawyer named fussell, to whom the major took a strong dislike, he threatened that if she married the lawyer he would, in his office or elsewhere, be the death of him. surely, fussell was one day found shot dead in his london apartments, and suspicion at once fell upon the officer, and he was arrested. at first he was willing to be subjected to the ordeal of touch, but when placed upon trial, resolved not to allow any chance of his being found guilty, and so refused to plead, in order that his estates might go to whom he willed. glynn was the lord chief justice on this occasion, and in passing the usual sentence for _peine forte et dure_, used instead of the word "weights," as above, the words "as much iron and stone as he can bear," doubtless to suit the prison convenience, and make the sentence perfectly legal. he was to have three morsels of barley bread every alternate day, and three draughts of "the water in the next channel to the prison door, but of no spring or fountain water," the sentence concluding, "and this shall be his punishment till he die." this was probably on the saturday, for on the monday morning following, it is stated, the condemned was draped in white garments, and also wore a mourning cloak, as though in mourning for his own forthcoming death. it is curious to notice that his friends were present at his death, which was so much modified from the lengthy process that his sentence conveys as to be in fact an execution, in which these same friends assisted. they stood "at the corner of the press," and when he gave them to understand that he was ready, they forthwith proceeded to pile stone and iron upon him. the amount of weight was insufficient to kill him, for although he gasped, "lord jesus, receive my soul," he still continued alive until his friends, to hasten his departure, stood upon the weights, a course which in about ten minutes placed him beyond the reach of the human barbarity which imposed upon friendship so horrible a task. in , an act was passed which directs the court to enter a plea of "not guilty," when a prisoner refuses to plead. it is surprising that the inhuman practice of pressing to death should have lingered so long. in this chapter we have only given particulars of a few of the many cases which have come under our notice in the legal byways of old england. drowning. among the nations of antiquity, drowning was a very common mode of execution. four-and-a-half centuries before the birth of christ, the britons inflicted death by drowning in a quagmire. in anglo-saxon times women found guilty of theft were drowned. for a long period in the middle ages, the barons and others who had the power of administering laws in their respective districts possessed a drowning pit and a gallows. drowning was a punishment of king richard of the lion heart, who ordained by a decree that it should be the doom of any soldier of his army who killed a fellow-crusader during the passage to the holy land. the owner of baynard's castle, london, in the reign of john, had the power of trying criminals, and his descendants long afterwards claimed the privilege, the most valued of which was the right of drowning, in the thames, traitors taken within the limits of his territory.[ ] bearing on this subject the annals of sandwich supply some important information. it is recorded, that in the year , "a presentment was made before the itinerant justices at canterbury, that the prior of christ church had, for nine years, obstructed the high road leading from dover castle to sandwich by the sea-shore by a water-mill, and the diversion of a stream called the gestlyng, where felons condemned to death within the hundred should be drowned, but could not be executed that way for want of water. further, that he raised a certain gutter four feet, and the water that passed that way to the gutter ran to the place where the convicts were drowned, and from whence their bodies were floated to the river, and that after the gutter was raised the drowned bodies could not be carried into the river by the stream, as they used to be, for want of water."[ ] drowning was not infrequently awarded as a matter of leniency, and as a commutation of what were considered more severe forms of death. we have an instance of such a case in scotland in , when a man who had been found guilty of theft and sacrilege was ordered to be put to death by drowning "by the queen's special grace." at edinburgh, in , a man was drowned for stealing a lamb; and in eleven gipsey women were condemned to be drowned at edinburgh in the nor' loch. on the th may, , margaret m'lachlan, aged sixty-three years, and margaret wilson, a girl of eighteen years, were drowned in the waters of blednoch, for denying that james vii. of scotland was entitled to rule the church according to his pleasure. six years prior to this, namely, on the th august, , a woman called janet grant was tried for theft, in the baronial court of sir robert gordon, of gordonston, held at drainie, and pleaded guilty. she was sentenced to be drowned next day in the loch of spynie. in france, drowning was a capital punishment as late as , but in scotland we do not trace it later than , and in england it was discontinued about the commencement of the seventeenth century. footnotes: [ ] pike's "history of crime in england," . [ ] boys's "history of sandwich." burning to death. burning to death was a frequent method of punishment in the barbarous days of many nations. in our own country it was used by the anglo-saxons as the penalty of certain crimes, and, as the ordinary punishment of witchcraft, it was maintained throughout the middle ages. burning alive was from early times the recognised method of uprooting heretical notions of religious belief of every class. the first to suffer from this cause in england was alban, who died at the stake in the year a.d. . since his day, thousands have suffered death on account of their religious belief, through intolerance; but that is not a subject we intend dealing with at the present time. we desire to direct attention to some of the cases of the burning alive of women for civil offences. this practice was considered by the framers of the law as a commutation of the sentence of hanging, and a concession made to the sex of the offenders. "for as the decency due to the sex," says blackstone, "forbids the exposing and publicly mangling their bodies, their sentence (which is to the full as terrible to sensation as the other) is, to be drawn to the gallows, and there to be burnt alive;" and he adds: "the humanity of the english nation has authorised, by a tacit consent, an almost general mitigation of such part of these judgments as savours of torture and cruelty, a sledge or hurdle being usually allowed to such traitors as are condemned to be drawn, and there being very few instances (and those accidental and by negligence) of any persons being disemboweled or burnt till previously deprived of sensation by strangling." we gather from the annals of king's lynn that, in the year , a woman was burnt in the market-place for the murder of her husband. twenty years later, a dutchman was burnt for reputed heresy. in the same town, in , margaret read was burnt for witchcraft. eight years later, a woman was executed for witchcraft, and in the year , another woman suffered death for the same crime. in , at king's lynn, the landlady of a public-house was murdered by a man let into the house at the dead of night by a servant girl. the man was hanged for committing the crime, and the girl was burnt at the stake for assisting the murderer to enter the dwelling. there is an account of a burning at lincoln, in . eleanor elsom was condemned to death for the murder of her husband, and was ordered to be burnt at the stake. she was clothed in a cloth, "made like a shift," saturated with tar, and her limbs were also smeared with the same inflammable substance, while a tarred bonnet had been placed on her head. she was brought out of the prison barefoot, and, being put on a hurdle, was drawn on a sledge to the place of execution near the gallows. upon arrival, some time was passed in prayer, after which the executioner placed her on a tar barrel, a height of three feet, against the stake. a rope ran through a pulley in the stake, and was placed around her neck, she herself fixing it with her hands. three irons also held her body to the stake, and the rope being pulled tight, the tar barrel was taken aside and the fire lighted. the details in the "lincoln date book" state that she was probably quite dead before the fire reached her, as the executioner pulled upon the rope several times whilst the irons were being fixed. the body was seen amid the flames for nearly half-an-hour, though, through the dryness of the wood and the quantity of tar, the fire was exceedingly fierce. an instance in which the negligence of the executioner caused death to be unnecessarily prolonged is found in the case of catherine hayes, who was executed at tyburn, november rd, , for the murder of her husband. she was being strangled in the accustomed manner, but the fire scorching the hands of the executioner, he relaxed the rope before she had become unconscious, and in spite of the efforts at once made to hasten combustion, she suffered for a considerable time the greatest agonies. two paragraphs, dealing with such cases, are in the _london magazine_ for july, , and are as follow: "at the assizes, at northampton, mary fawson was condemned to be burnt for poisoning her husband, and elizabeth wilson to be hanged for picking a farmer's pocket of thirty shillings." "among the persons capitally convicted at the assizes, at chelmsford, are herbert hayns, one of gregory's gang, who is to be hung in chains, and a woman, for poisoning her husband, is to be burnt." in the next number of the same magazine, the first-mentioned criminal is again spoken of: "mrs. fawson was burnt at northampton for poisoning her husband. her behaviour in prison was with the utmost signs of contrition. she would not, to satisfy people's curiosity, be unveiled to anyone. she confessed the justice of her sentence, and died with great composure of mind." and also: "margaret onion was burnt at a stake at chelmsford, for poisoning her husband. she was a poor, ignorant creature, and confessed the fact." we obtain from mr. john glyde, jun., particulars of another case of burning for husband murder (styled petty treason). in april, , margery beddingfield, and a farm servant, named richard ringe, her paramour, had murdered john beddingfield, of sternfield. the latter criminal was the actual murderer, his wife being considered an accomplice. he was condemned to be hanged and she burnt, at the same time and place, and her sentence was that she should "be taken from hence to the place from whence you came, and thence to the place of execution, on saturday next, where you are to be burnt until you be dead: and the lord have mercy on your soul." accordingly, on the day appointed, she was taken to rushmere heath, near ipswich, and there strangled and burnt.[ ] coining was, until a late period, an offence which met with capital punishment. in may, , a girl of little more than fourteen years of age had, at her master's command, concealed a number of whitewashed farthings to represent shillings, for which she was found guilty of treason, and sentenced to be burnt. her master was already hanged, and the fagots but awaiting the application of the match to blaze in fury around her, when lord weymouth, who happened to be passing that way, humanely interfered. said a writer in the _quarterly review_, "a mere accident saved the nation from this crime and this national disgrace." in harrison's _derby and nottingham journal_, for september rd, , is an account of two persons who were several days previously tried and convicted for high treason, the indictment being for coining shillings in cold bath field, and for coining shillings in nag's head yard, bishopsgate street. the culprit in the latter case was a man named john fields, and in the former a woman called isabella condon. they were sentenced to be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, the man to be hanged and the woman burnt. ph[oe]be harris, in , was burnt in front of newgate. the _chelmsford chronicle_ of june rd, , gives an account of her execution. after furnishing particulars of six men being hanged for various crimes, the report says: "about a quarter of an hour after the platform had dropped, the female convicted" (ph[oe]be harris, convicted of counterfeiting the coin called shillings) "was led by two officers of justice from newgate to a stake fixed in the ground about midway between the scaffold and the pump. the stake was about eleven feet high, and, near the top of it was inserted a curved piece of iron, to which the end of the halter was tied. the prisoner stood on a low stool, which, after the ordinary had prayed with her a short time, being taken away, she was suspended by the neck (her feet being scarcely more than twelve or fourteen inches from the pavement). soon after the signs of life had ceased, two cart-loads of fagots were placed round her and set on fire; the flames presently burning the halter, the convict fell a few inches, and was then sustained by an iron chain passed over her chest and affixed to the stake. some scattered remains of the body were perceptible in the fire at half-past ten o'clock. the fire had not completely burnt out at twelve o'clock." the latest instance on record is that of christian murphy, _alias_ bowman, who was burnt on march th, , for coining. the barbarous laws which permitted such repugnant exhibitions were repealed by the th george iii., cap. , which provided that, after the th of june, , women were to suffer hanging, as in the case of men. footnotes: [ ] glyde's "new suffolk garland," . boiling to death. in the year , when henry viii. was king, an act was passed for boiling poisoners to death. the preamble of the statute states that one richard roose or coke, a cook, by putting poison in some food intended for the household of the bishop of rochester, and for the poor of the parish in which his lordship's palace was situated in lambeth marsh, occasioned the death of a man and a woman, and the serious illness of several others. he was found guilty of treason, and sentenced to be boiled to death, without benefit of clergy, that is, that no abatement of the sentence was to be made on account of his ecclesiastical connection, nor to be allowed any indemnity such as was commonly the privilege of clerical offenders. he was publicly boiled to death at smithfield, and the act ordained that all manner of poisoners should meet with the same doom henceforth. a maid-servant, for poisoning her mistress, was, in , boiled to death in the market-place of king's lynn. another instance of a servant poisoning the persons with whom she lived was margaret davy, who perished at smithfield, in . this cruel law did not remain long on the statute books; shortly after the death of henry viii., and in the reign of the next king, edward vi., it was, in repealed. the punishment of boiling alive was by no means uncommon before the enactment of henry viii., both in england and on the continent. beheading. beheading, as a mode of punishment, had an early origin. amongst the romans it was regarded as a most honourable death. it is asserted that it was introduced into england from normandy by william the conqueror, and intended for the putting to death of criminals belonging to the higher grades of society. the first person to suffer beheading was waltheof, earl of huntingdon, northampton, and northumberland, in . since the days of the first norman king down to the time of george the second in , two monarchs, and not a few of the most notable of the nobility of great britain, at the tower, whitehall, near the historic tolbooth of edinburgh, and other places have closed their noble, and in some instances ignoble, careers at the hands of the headsman. charles i. is perhaps the most famous of kings that have been beheaded. on january th, , on a scaffold raised before the banqueting house at whitehall, he was executed. within the banqueting hall of the castle of fotheringay, on february th, , the executioner from the tower, after three blows from an axe, severed the head from the body of mary, queen of scots. her earlier years opened in the gay court of france, and was full of sunshine, but shadows gathered, and she was-- "a sad prisoner, passing weary years, in many castles, till at fotheringay, the joyless life was ended." henry viii. was a great king, but his cruel attitude towards his queens will ever diminish his glory; two of them were executed at his instigation at the tower, namely, anne boleyn, on may th, , and katherine howard, on february th, . in the death at the block of lady jane grey, "the nine days' queen," the scene is more pathetic and picturesque. on february th, - , she and her young husband, lord guildford dudley, were executed at the tower, the former on the green within the ancient stronghold, and the latter on tower hill. the story of her unhappy fate is one of the most familiar pages of english history. fuller said of this noble woman: "she had the innocency of childhood, the beauty of youth, the solidity of middle, the gravity of old age, and all at eighteen; the birth of a princess, the learning of a clerk, the life of a saint, and the death of a malefactor for her parents' offences." [illustration: the tower of london, showing the site of the scaffold.] amongst the notable men who have suffered at the tower, we must mention john fisher, bishop of rochester, beheaded on tower hill, june rd, . he had nearly reached the age of four score years. the pope, to spite henry viii., had sent the prelate a cardinal's hat, but the aged bishop had suffered death before it reached this country. sir thomas more was executed on july th, . like his friend fisher, he refused submission to the statute of succession and to the king's supremacy. the devotion of margaret roper to her father, sir thomas more, forms an attractive feature in the life story of this truly great man. after execution his head was spiked on london bridge, and she bribed a man to move it, and drop it into a boat where she sat. she kept the sacred relic for many years, and at her death it was buried with her in a vault under st. dunstan's church, canterbury. george boleyn, viscount rochford, was beheaded on may th, , two days before the execution of his sister, queen anne boleyn; and his wife, jane, viscountess rochford, was beheaded at tower hill, with katherine howard, on february th, , on the charge of having been an accomplice in the queen's treason. on july th, , thomas cromwell, earl of essex, was executed. margaret plantagenet, countess of salisbury, opposed the king and his government, and she was condemned for high treason. on may th, , her earthly career closed. "the haughty old countess," it is recorded, "refused to lay her head upon the block, and the headsman had to follow her about the scaffold, and to 'fetch-off' her grey head 'slovenly' as he could."[ ] she was nearly seventy years old. the following are included in the list of notable men beheaded, and in most instances we are only able to give their names and dates of execution, but the story of their careers will be found in the pages of english history. henry, earl of surrey, beheaded january th, - ; thomas, lord seymour of sudeley, march th, - ; edward seymour, duke of somerset, january nd, - ; sir thomas arundel, february th, - ; john dudley, duke of northumberland, august nd, . next comes henry grey, duke of suffolk, executed february nd, - . he was the father of lady jane grey. thomas howard, duke of norfolk, suffered death june nd, . on february th, - , robert devereux, earl of essex, was beheaded. sir walter raleigh was a many-sided man, the discoverer of north carolina, the defender of his country, an author, a court favourite, and a man of undaunted courage. in the tower he was long a prisoner, and there wrote some notable books, and the following hymn:-- "rise, o my soul, with thy desires to heav'n, and with divinest contemplations use thy time, where time's eternity is given, and let vain thoughts no more thy mind abuse; but down in darkness let them lie; so live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die. "and thou, my soul, inspired with holy flame view and review, with most regardful eye, that holy cross, whence thy salvation came, on which thy saviour and thy sin did die; for in that sacred object is much pleasure, and in that saviour, is my life, my treasure. "to thee, o jesu, i direct my eye; to thee my hands, to thee my humble knees, to thee my heart shall offer sacrifice,-- to thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees; to thee myself, myself and all, i give; to thee i die, to thee i only live." on october th, , sir walter raleigh was executed at whitehall under a sentence which had hung over his head for fifteen years. [illustration: axe, block, and executioner's mask at the tower of london.] on may th, , was executed wentworth, earl of strafford; and on january th, - , was beheaded archbishop laud. william howard, viscount stafford, a victim of oates's perjury, was executed on december th, . "having embraced and taken leave of his friends," says bell, "he knelt down and placed his head on the block: the executioner raised the axe high in the air, but then checking himself suddenly lowered it. stafford raised his head and asked the reason of the delay. the executioner said he waited the signal. 'i shall make no sign,' he answered, 'take your own time.' the executioner asked his forgiveness. 'i do forgive you,' replied stafford, and placing his head again in position, at one blow it was severed from his body."[ ] a noted name in history comes next, the duke of monmouth. he was beheaded july th, . "here are six guineas for you," he said to the executioner, "and do not hack me as you did my lord russell. i have heard that you struck him three or four times. my servant will give you more gold if you do your work well." then he undressed, felt the edge of the axe, and laid his head on the block. the executioner was unnerved, he raised his axe, but his arm trembled as it fell, and only a slight wound was inflicted. several blows were given before the neck was severed. [illustration: lord lovat (_from a drawing by hogarth_).] we are now nearing the end of executions at the tower, and only three more names occur. the cause of prince charlie was supported by not a few of the best blood of scotland, but the battle of culloden ended all hopes for the pretender, and brought misery to many of his brave followers. william, earl of kilmarnock, and arthur, lord balmerino, on august th, , were beheaded for their devotion to the jacobite cause. simon, lord fraser of lovat, had passed a shameless life, and little can be said in his favour. in , he fought against prince charles edward, but subsequently joined the jacobites, and took part in the battle of culloden. he managed to escape from the field after the engagement, and it was not until april th, , that he was beheaded on tower hill. on reaching the scaffold, he asked for the executioner, and presented him with a purse containing ten guineas. he then asked to see the axe, felt its edge, and said he thought it would do. next he looked at his coffin, on which was inscribed:-- simon, dominus fraser de lovat, decollat april , , Ætat suae . after repeating some lines from horace, and next from ovid, he prayed, then bade adieu to his solicitor and agent in scotland; finally the executioner completed his work, the head falling from the body. lord lovat was the last person beheaded in this country. footnotes: [ ] wilson's "the tower and the scaffold," . [ ] d. c. bell's "chapel of the tower," . the halifax gibbet. the mention of the halifax gibbet suggests a popular yorkshire saying: "from hell, hull and halifax, good lord, deliver us." fuller says the foregoing is part of the "beggars' and vagrants' litany," and goes on to state: "of these three frightful things unto them, it is to be feared that they least fear the first, conceiving it the farthest from them. hull is terrible to them as a town of good government, where beggars meet with punitive charity; and, it is to be feared, are oftener corrected than amended. halifax is formidable for the law thereof, whereby thieves, taken in the very act of stealing cloth, are instantly beheaded with an engine, without any further legal proceedings. doubtless, the coincidence of the initial letters of these three words helped much the setting on foot of the proverb." the halifax gibbet law has been traced back to a remote period. it has been suggested that it was imported into the country by some of the norman barons. holinshed's "chronicle" (edition published in ) contains an interesting note bearing on this subject. "there is, and has been, of ancient time," says holinshed, "a law or rather custom, at halifax, that whosoever doth commit any felony, and is taken with the same, or confesses the fact upon examination, if it be valued by four constables to amount to the sum of thirteenpence-halfpenny, he is forthwith beheaded upon one of the next market-days (which fall usually upon the tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays), or else upon the same day that he is convicted, if market be holden. the engine wherewith the execution is done is a square block of wood, of the length of four feet and a half, which doth ride up and down in a slot, rabet, or regall, between two pieces of timber that are framed and set up right, of five yards in height. in the nether end of a sliding block is an axe, keyed or fastened with an iron into the wood, which, being drawn up to the top of the frame, is there fastened by a wooden pin (with a notch made in the same, after the manner of a samson's post), unto the middest of which pin also there is a long rope fastened, that cometh down among the people; so that when the offender hath made his confession, and hath laid his neck over the nethermost block, every man there present doth either take hold of the rope (or putteth forth his arm so near to the same as he can get, in token that he is willing to see justice executed), and pulling out the pin in this manner, the head-block wherein the axe is fastened doth fall down with such a violence, that if the neck of the transgressor were so big as that of a bull, it should be cut in sunder at a stroke, and roll from the body by a huge distance. if it be so that the offender be apprehended for an ox, sheep, kine, horse, or any such cattle, the self beast or other of its kind shall have the end of the rope tied somewhere unto them, so that they, being driven, do draw out the pin, whereby the offender is executed." in the illustration we give, which is a reproduction of an old picture, it will be observed that a horse is drawing the rope to loosen the pin, and to allow the axe to fall and cut off the head of the victim. the doomed man had doubtless stolen the horse. near the gibbet are assembled the jurymen, and the parish priest is engaged in prayer. [illustration: halifax gibbet.] before a felon was condemned to suffer, the proof of certain facts appears to have been essentially necessary. in the first place, he was to be taken in the liberty of the forest of hardwick, and if he escaped out of it, even after condemnation, he could not be brought back to be executed; but if he ever returned into the liberty again, and was taken, he was sure to suffer. it is recorded that a man named lacy escaped, and resided seven years out of the forest, but returning, was beheaded on the former verdict. this person was not so wise as one dinnis, who, having been condemned to die, escaped out of the liberty on the day fixed for his execution (which might be done by running in one direction about five hundred yards), and never returned. meeting several people that asked if dinnis was not to be beheaded on that day, his answer was, "i trow not," which, having some humour in it, became a proverbial saying in the district, and is used to this day--"'i trow not,' quoth dinnis." in the next place, the fact was to be proved in the clearest manner. the offender had to be taken either hand-habend or back-berand, that is, having the stolen goods in his hand, or bearing them on his back, or, lastly, confessing that he took them. the value of the goods stolen had to be worth at least thirteenpence-halfpenny, or more. taylor, the water-poet, refers to the subject as follows:-- "at halifax the law so sharpe doth deale, that whoso more than thirteenpence doth steale, they have a jyn that wondrous quick and well sends thieves all headless into heaven or hell." a further condition of the halifax gibbet law is scarcely so clear as the preceding. the accused was, after three market or meeting days, within the town of halifax, next after his apprehension and being condemned, taken to the gibbet. this probably means that after he was delivered to the bailiff, no time further than was necessary was to elapse before proceeding to the trial, and that the bailiff was to send speedy summons to those who were to try him, which might be done in two or three days. if he were found guilty, the day of his execution depended upon that of his sentence, for he was to be beheaded on no other day than saturday, which was the great meeting. thus, if condemned on monday, he would be kept three market days; but if condemned on saturday, as some assert, he would be conducted straightway to the gibbet. the two last persons who suffered death by this engine were condemned and executed on the same day. the final ordinance of the law directs that on being led to the gibbet the malefactor is to have his head cut off from his body. that the machine was fully capable of this is evident both from holinshed's remarks and from the following anecdote given by wright, the historian of halifax, as an extract from "a tour through the whole island of great britain." a country woman, who was riding by the gibbet at the time of the execution of a criminal, had hampers at her sides, and the head, bounding to a considerable distance from the force of the descending axe, "jumped into one of the hampers, or, as others say, seized her apron with its teeth, and there stuck for some time." the parish register at halifax contains a list of forty-nine persons who suffered by the gibbet, commencing on the th day of march, , the earliest date of which there is a recorded execution, and terminating on the th day of april, . after which latter execution the bailiff of the town received an intimation that should another case occur, he would be called to public account. the number of beheadals in each of the reigns comprised in the above dates are: five in the last six years of the reign of henry viii.; twenty-five in the reign of elizabeth; seven in the reign of james i.; ten in the reign of charles i.; two during the commonwealth. [illustration: halifax gibbet, by hoyle.] in the year , john hoyle made a drawing of the halifax gibbet, which is regarded as a faithful representation of it. on the crown of the hill will be noticed a sketch of the ancient beacon. an account of the last occasion upon which the services of the halifax gibbet were called into requisition is interesting; it is contained in a rare book: "halifax and its gibbet law placed in a true light." it was written by dr. samuel midgley, during an imprisonment for debt, and was published in . "about the latter end of april, a.d. , abraham wilkinson, john wilkinson, and anthony mitchel were apprehended within the manor of wakefield and the liberties of halifax, for divers felonious practices, and brought or caused to be brought into the custody of the chief bailiff of halifax, in order to have their trials for acquittal or condemnation, according to the custom of the forest of hardwick, at the complaint and prosecution of samuel colbeck of wardley, within the liberty of halifax; john fielden of stansfield, within the said liberty; and john cusforth of durker, in the parish of sandall, within the manor of wakefield." the bailiff, according to the ancient custom, issued a summons to the "several constables of halifax, sowerby, warley, and skircoat," charging them to appear at his house on the th day of april, , each accompanied by four men, "the most ancient, intelligent, and of the best ability" within his constabulary, to determine the cases. the constables were merely the law officers, the jurors being the sixteen "most ancient men," and whose names are given at length. they were empanelled in a convenient room at the bailiff's house, where the accused and their prosecutors were brought "face to face" before them, as also the stolen goods, to be by them viewed, examined, and appraised. the court was opened by the following address from the bailiff: "neighbours and friends,--you are summoned hither and empanelled according to the ancient custom of the forest of hardwick, and by virtue you are required to make diligent search and inquiry into such complaints as are brought against the felons, concerning the goods that are set before you, and to make such just, equitable, and faithful determination betwixt party and party, as you will answer between god and your own conscience." he then addressed them on the separate charges against the prisoners. from samuel colbeck, of warley, they were alleged to have stolen sixteen yards of russet-coloured kersey, which the jury valued at s. per yard. two of the prisoners were alleged to have stolen from durker green, two colts, which were produced in court, one of which was appraised at £ , and the other at s. also, abraham wilkinson was charged by john fielden with stealing six yards of cinnamon-coloured kersey, and eight yards of white "frized, for blankets." after some debate concerning certain evidence against the above, and "after some mature consideration, the jury, as is customary in such cases," adjourned to the th day of april. upon this day they met, and after further full examination gave their verdict in writing, and directed that the prisoners abraham wilkinson and anthony mitchel, "by ancient custom, and liberty of halifax, whereof the memory of man is not to the contrary, the said abraham wilkinson and anthony mitchel are to suffer death by having their heads severed and cut off from their bodies at the halifax gibbet, unto which verdict we subscribe our names." the felons were executed upon the same day. the stone scaffold or pedestal upon which the gibbet was erected was discovered by the town trustees in , in attempting to reduce what was known as gibbet hill to the level of the neighbouring ground; and except some decay of the top and one of the steps, it is in a perfect state. it is carefully fenced round, and an inscription affixed, which was done at the cost of samuel waterhouse, mayor, in . the gibbet axe, formerly in the possession of the lord of the manor of wakefield, is now preserved at the rolls office of that town. it weighs seven pounds twelve ounces; its length is ten inches and a half; it is seven inches broad at the top, and nearly nine at the bottom, and at the centre about seven and a half. the scottish maiden. [illustration: the tolbooth, edinburgh.] towards the middle of the sixteenth century, the earl of morton, regent of scotland, during a visit to england, witnessed an execution by the halifax gibbet. he appears to have been impressed in a favourable manner with the ingenuity of the machine, and gave directions for a model of it to be made, and on his return home, in the year , he had a similar gibbet constructed. on account of remaining so long before it was used, so runs the popular story, it was known as "the maiden." dr. charles rogers says that its appellation is from the celtic _mod-dun_, originally signifying the place where justice was administered.[ ] it is generally believed that the first victim beheaded at the maiden was the earl of morton himself, but such was not the case, for he did not suffer death by it until june nd, . he ruled scotland for ten years, winning the approbation of queen elizabeth, but finally he fell a victim to the court faction. it has been said that probably it could not have availed against him but for his own greed and cruelty. in trying to picture the scene of morton's execution, says a painstaking author, it must have been a striking sight when the proud, stern, resolute face, which had frowned so many better men down, came to speak from the scaffold, protesting his innocence of the crime for which he had been condemned, but owning sins enough to justify god for his fate.[ ] he died by the side of the city cross, in the high street, edinburgh, and for the next twelve months his head garnished a pinnacle on the neighbouring tolbooth. [illustration: the scottish maiden.] it is agreed by authorities that the first time the maiden was used was at the execution of the inferior agents in the assassination of rizzio, which occurred at holyrood palace, on the th of march, . the list of those who have suffered death at the maiden extends to at least one hundred and twenty names, not a few of whom scotland delights to honour, including sir john gordon, of haddo; president spottiswood, the marquis and the earl of argyle. [illustration: execution of the earl of argyle.] the unfortunate earl of argyle met his doom with firmness; when laying his head on the grim instrument of death, he said it was "a sweet maiden, whose embrace would waft his soul into heaven." the tragic story of the earl of argyle has been ably told by mr. david maxwell, c.e., and his iniquitous death is one of many dark passages in the life of james ii.[ ] in , the use of the maiden was discontinued. it now finds a place and attracts much attention in the museum of the society of antiquaries of scotland, at edinburgh. footnotes: [ ] rogers's "social life in scotland," . [ ] chambers's "book of days," vol. i., page . [ ] david maxwell's "bygone scotland," . mutilation. in the earlier laws of england, mutilation or dismembering was by no means an uncommon punishment, more especially amongst the poor. men, says pike, branded on the forehead, without hands, without feet, without tongues, lived as an example of the danger which attended the commission of petty crimes, and as a warning to all men who had the misfortune of holding no higher position than that of a churl.[ ] wealthy people might do wrong with impunity. it has been clearly shown that there was one law for the rich, and another for the poor, in england during the four centuries which preceded the norman conquest. according to pike, under the danes, mutilation was practised with perhaps greater severity than under the rule of the saxons. amongst the horrors of the danish conquest were eyes plucked out; the nose, ears, and the upper lip were cut off; the scalp was torn away, and sometimes even, there is reason to believe, the whole body was flayed alive. under the first two norman kings mutilation of offenders was largely employed to preserve game in their forests. they, however, only appear to have enforced earlier laws. the earliest forest laws of which we have any knowledge are those which were promulgated about by canute, the dane, and probably much the same as had existed for a long period previously. the principal points of their tyrannical laws were, that if a freedman offered violence to a keeper of the king's deer, he was liable to lose his freedom and property; if a serf did the same, he lost his right hand; if the offence was repeated, he paid the penalty with his life. for killing a deer, either the eyes of the offender were put out, or he was killed; if anyone ran down a deer so that it panted, he was to pay at least ten shillings in the money of the day. such was the law under the saxon and the danish kings. the laws protected the private estate owner, and it was not until the conqueror came that all the forest land was considered the property of the king. in the reign of henry i. coiners of false money were brought to winchester and suffered there in one day the loss of their right hands and of their manhood. under the kings of the west saxon dynasty the loss of the right hand was a common sentence for makers of base coin. several curious instances of mutilation are mentioned in "the obsolete punishments of shropshire," by s. meeson morris. a case occurring in the reign of king john provides some interesting particulars. "in ," says mr. morris, "at the salop assizes, alice crithecreche and others were accused of murdering a woman at lilleshall. alice immediately, after the murder, had fled into staffordshire with certain chattels of the murdered woman in her possession, and had been there arrested, and brought back into shropshire. her defence before the _curia comitatûs_ of salop was at least ingenious:--she alleged that on hearing a noise at night in the murdered woman's house she went and peeped through a chink in the door; that she saw four men within, who presently coming out, seized, and threatened to murder her if she made any alarm, but on her keeping silence, gave her the stolen goods found upon her when arrested. on being brought before the justices-in-eyre at the above assizes, alice crithecreche no longer adhered to this defence, and she was adjudged to deserve death, but the penalty was commuted for one hardly less terrible. it was ordered that both her eyes should be plucked out." at a meeting of the suffolk institute of archæology, held february th, , mr. george e. crisp, of playford hall, near ipswich, exhibited instruments used in the time of henry viii. for cutting off the ears, as a penalty for not attending church. in our chapter on the pillory will be found particulars of cases of mutilation of the ears. the punishment of mutilation, except to the ears of the offender, was not common for centuries before the reign of henry viii., but by statute henry viii., c. , the penalty for striking in the king's court or house was declared to be the loss of the right hand.[ ] footnotes: [ ] pike's "history of crime in england," . [ ] morris's "obsolete punishments of shropshire." branding. this mode of punishment was discontinued in the reign of george iii., and finally abolished in . old laws contain many allusions to the subject. in the reign of edward vi. was passed the famous statute of vagabonds, authorising the branding with hot iron the letter v on the breast of a runaway slave. if, on being sold, he afterwards ran away, he might be branded on the cheek or forehead with the letter s, and thus the fact made known to those who saw him that he was a slave. church brawlers in this reign were liable to be branded on the cheek with the letter f, meaning a fraymaker. gipsies were punished with branding. at haddington, in , some gipsies were severely dealt with, the men being condemned to be hanged, the women drowned, with the exception of those having children, and they were to be scourged through the burgh and burnt on their cheeks. james nayler, the mad quaker, who claimed to be the messiah, as part of his punishment for blasphemy, was condemned to have his tongue bored through and his forehead branded with a hot iron with the letter b, signifying that he was a blasphemer.[ ] persons found guilty of petty offences and claiming benefit of clergy were burnt on the hand. dr. cox gives particulars of a case occurring at the derbyshire sessions in . a butcher named palmer, from wirksworth, had been found guilty of stealing a sheep. he claimed benefit of clergy, which the court granted, and he read. the court gave judgment that he be burnt in his left hand, which was executed. his troubles did not end with the branding, for we find he had to "remaine in gaole till hee finde sufficient suretyes for his good behaviour to bee approved of and taken by recoign by mr. justice pole and mr. justice borrowes, and for his appearance att next sessions, and then to abide further order of this court."[ ] we reproduce from a carefully written work entitled, "in and around morecambe and its bay," issued by mr. t. a. j. waddington, york, an old-time picture of a branding scene. in the lancaster criminal court is still preserved a branding iron. "this iron," we are told, "is attached to the back part of the dock; it consists of a long bolt with a wooden handle at one end, and the letter m at the other. in close proximity are two iron loops designed for securing firmly the hand of the prisoner whilst the long piece of iron was heated red hot, so that the letter denoting 'malefactor' could be impressed. the brander, after doing his fiery task, examined the hand, and on a good impression being made on the brawny part running from the thumb, would turn to the judge and exclaim--'a fair mark, my lord!'" [illustration: "a fair mark, my lord."] at the assizes held at northampton, in , before mr. justice powis, the following prisoners were adjudged to be branded:--"silvester green, found guilty of sheep-stealing, burnt in the hand. and james corby, the pig merchant, had the honour of the brand confer'd on him likewise: jane clarke, william and john green, convicted of several petty thefts and larcenies, are to travel for years after the proper officer has kiss'd their hand with a red hot iron." the foregoing list is drawn from the reports in the _northampton mercury_, and in the same paper for august st, , it is stated "the following persons were try'd at the assizes held for the town and county of northampton, on tuesday, the th of this instant. isabella chapman and john field were convicted of several thefts and larcenies. to be burnt in the hand and whipt; and afterwards to be transported for years. fielding's crime was stealing sheep.... isaac emmerton, who was committed on the st may last ... was burnt in the hand."[ ] branding in some instances appears to have been a mere farce. "when charles moritz, a young german, visited england in , he was much surprised at this custom, and in his diary he mentions that a clergyman had fought a duel with another in hyde park, and killed the man; he was found guilty of manslaughter, and was burnt in the hand, if that could be called burning which was done with a cold iron."[ ] such cases as this prepared the way for abolishing the custom, as cold irons for one class, and hot irons for another, could not be tolerated. it was customary to command criminals in the courts in the past century to hold up their hands to prove if previous convictions had been passed upon them. footnotes: [ ] andrews's "literary byways," . [ ] cox's "three centuries of derbyshire annals," . [ ] markham's "ancient punishments of northamptonshire," . the pillory. in the history of our own and other european countries, the pillory may be traced back to remote times, and its origin is almost lost in the mists of antiquity. its story is one of tragedy and comedy, and full of historic interest and importance. in england, in bygone ages, the pillory was a familiar object, and perhaps no engine of punishment was more generally employed. where there was a market, the pillory might be seen, for if the local authorities neglected to have it ready for immediate use, should occasion require it, they ran the risk of forfeiting the right of holding a market, which was a most serious matter in the olden time. lords of manors, in addition to having the right of a pillory, usually had a ducking-stool and gallows. thomas de chaworth, in the reign of edward iii., made a claim of a park, and the right of free warren, at alfreton, with the privilege of having a gallows, tumbrel, and pillory. [illustration: pillory, whipping-post, and stocks, wallingford.] in the middle ages frequently a pillory, whipping-post, and stocks were combined, and we give a picture of a good example from wallingford, berkshire. it will be observed that they are planned to hold four delinquents, namely, one in the pillory, one at the whipping-post, and two in the stocks. they stood near the town hall, in the market-place, down to about the year , when the pillory and whipping-post were taken down. the stocks remained for a few years longer to remind the tippler of his fate, if he overstepped the bounds of temperance and was caught drunk. in course of time they fell into disuse, and were finally presented by the corporation to mr. j. kirby hedges, of wallingford castle, the historian of the ancient town. he informs us that there was a pillory at wallingford in , and probably earlier. [illustration: ockam in the pillory.] a good representation of the pillory formerly much used is furnished in a cut of robert ockam, undergoing part of his sentence for perjury, in the reign of henry viii. in the year , ockam, with two other criminals mounted on horseback, with papers on their heads, and their faces towards the tails of the horses, had to ride about windsor, newbury, and reading, and stand in the pillory of each of the three towns. we give a view of an ancient pillory which formerly stood in the market-place of the village of paulmy, in touraine. it is copied from a picture of the castle of paulmy in _cosmographie universelle_, . it will be observed that it is planned for holding a number of offenders at the same time. this form of pillory was not generally used. it was usually much simpler in construction, and frequently was not a permanent structure. [illustration: pillory for a number of persons.] stow, in his "survey of london," supplies a description of the cornhill pillory, and gives particulars of the crimes for which it was brought into requisition. after adverting to the making of a strong prison of timber, called a cage, and fixing upon it a pair of stocks for night-walkers, he next tells us: "on the top of the cage was placed a pillory, for the punishment of bakers offending in the assize of bread; for millers stealing of corn at the mill; for bawds, scolds, and other offenders." in the year , the seventh of edward iv., divers persons, being common jurors, such as at assizes, were forsworn for rewards or favour of parties, and judged to ride from newgate to the pillory of cornhill, with mitres of paper on their heads, there to stand, and from thence again to newgate; and this judgment was given by the mayor of london. in the year , the first of henry viii., darby, smith, and simson, ringleaders of false inquests in london, rode about the city with their faces to horses' tails, and papers on their heads, and were set on the pillory in cornhill, and afterwards brought again to newgate, where they died for very shame, saith robert fabian. a curious note, relating to this topic, appears in the "journal of henry machyn, citizen of london," published by the camden society. it is stated that, on the st july, , there were a man and woman on the pillory in cheapside; the man sold pots of strawberries, the which were not half full, but filled with fern. on the th may, , two persons were set on the pillory, a man and woman; but the woman had her ears nailed to the pillory for speaking lies and uttering false rumours. the man was punished for seditious and slanderous words. an instance of great severity is recorded in , when edward floyde was convicted of having used slighting expressions concerning the king's son-in-law, the elector palatine, and his wife. the sentence was given as follows: ( ) not to bear arms as a gentleman, nor be a competent witness in any court of justice. ( ) to ride with his face to a horse's tail, to stand in the pillory, and have his ears nailed, etc. ( ) to be whipped at the cart's tail. ( ) to be fined £ , . ( ) to be perpetually imprisoned in newgate. it was questioned whether floyde, being a gentleman, should be whipped, and have his ears nailed. it was agreed by a majority that he should be subject to the former, but not to the latter. he stood two hours in the pillory, and had his forehead branded. pepys, writing in his diary under date of march th, , relates that he had been informed by sir w. batten that "some 'prentices, being put in the pillory to-day for beating of their masters, or such-like things, in cheapside, a company of 'prentices came and rescued them, and pulled down the pillory; and they being set up again, did the like again." we may infer, from the foregoing and other facts that have come down to us respecting the london apprentices, that they were a power in bygone times, doing very much as they pleased. we are enabled, by the courtesy of messrs. w. & r. chambers, to reproduce from their "book of days" an excellent illustration of oates in the pillory (from a contemporary print). "found guilty," says the writer in the "book of days," "of perjury on two separate indictments, the inventor of the popish plot was condemned, in , to public exposure on three consecutive days. the first day's punishment, in palace yard, nearly cost the criminal his life; but his partisans mustered in such force in the city, on the succeeding day, that they were able to upset the pillory, and nearly succeeded in rescuing their idol from the hands of the authorities. according to his sentence, oates was to stand every year of his life in the pillory, on five different days: before the gate of westminster hall, on the th august; at charing cross on the th; at the temple on the th; at the royal exchange on the nd september; and at tyburn on the th april; but, fortunately for the infamous creature, the revolution deprived his determined enemies of power, and turned the criminal into a pensioner of government." it was formerly a common custom to put persons in the pillory during the time of public market. we may name, as an example, a case occurring at canterbury, in . a man was set up in the pillory, which was in the market place, and bearing on his head a paper inscribed, "this is a false, perjured, and forsworn man." he was confined in the pillory until the market was over, and then led to westgate and thrust out of the town, still wearing the paper. "if he be proud," says an old writer, "he may go home and shew himself among his neighbours." the corporation accounts of newcastle-on-tyne contain, among other curious items, the following: .--paid to the gawyng aydon, for squrgyn a boye about the town, and for settying a man in the pallerye, two days d. .--paid for a tre to the pillyre s. .--paid to charles shawe, for charges in carryinge the man to durham that stode in the pillarye, and was skrougide aboute the town at mr. maior's commandment s. .--paide for a papist which studd in the pillerie for abusing our majestie by slanderous woordes d. .--paid for papers to folke which was sett on the pillorie d. paid ro. musgrave for takinge paines to sett them upp d. the "papers" above mentioned were for the purpose of proclaiming to the world at large the nature of the bearer's offence. at hull, in the year , the town ordinances were revised and proclaimed "in the market place, in the market-time, according to the yearly custom." the twenty-third rule runs as follows: "that no person whomsoever presume to take down and carry away, any brick or stones off or from the town's walls, upon pain for every default to be set upon the pillory, and to pay, for a fine, to the town's chamber, forty shillings." we may infer, from the foregoing, that the town's walls, both the original stone portion of edward i., and the later addition of brick, were in a state of demolition. in , the aldermen of hull were directed to take account of "all vagabonds, idle persons, sharpers, beggars, and such like;" and, doubtless, not a few of the persons included under these wide definitions would come to the pillory, for the aldermen were ordered to "punish them severely;" and, as the punishments of hull were largely in fines, mr. wildridge, author of "old and new hull," suggests that the moneyless classes of persons above-named would be most economically and severely dealt with by pillorying. about , a man, for keeping a disreputable house, was placed in the pillory erected in the market place. at preston, lancashire, in , a man about sixty years of age was pilloried for a similar offence, and it is said that he was the last person punished in this manner in the town. the pillory at driffield was movable, and when in use stood in the market place, near the cross keys hotel. the last occupants, a man and a woman, were pilloried together about , for fortune-telling. at bridlington the pillory stood in the market place, opposite the corn exchange. it was taken down about , and lay some time in well lane, but it finally disappeared, and was probably chopped up for firewood. before its removal there was affixed to it a bell, which was rung to regulate the market hours. mischievous youths, however, often rang it, so it was taken down in , and kept at a house down a court, known as pillory bell yard. [illustration: manchester pillory.] mr. w. e. a. axon, the well known lancashire author and antiquary, kindly furnishes us with particulars of the manchester pillory. "the earliest notice of the pillory in manchester," says mr. axon, "is in the court leet records, april th, , when the jury referred the erection of 'a gibbett' to the discretion of the steward and the boroughreeve. some delay must have occurred, for on april th, , 'the jurye doth order that the constables of this yeare, att the charges of the inhabitants, shall cause to bee erected and sett vp a sufficient gibbett or pilorye for the vse of this towne, in some convenient place about the markett crosse, and to take to them the advice of mr. stewart and the bororeve. this to be done before the xxiiijth day of august next, subpena xx^s.' this threat of a penalty was effective, and the careful scribe notes _factum est_. the convenient place was in the market-place, close to the stocks. the pillory remained, more or less in use, until , when it was removed. barritt, the antiquary, made a drawing of it, which has been engraved. it was jocularly styled the 'tea table,' and was used as a whipping place also. in the present century, it was not a permanent fixture, but a movable structure, set up when required. one pilloried individual, grimly jesting at his own sorrows, told an inquiring friend that he was celebrating his nuptials with miss wood, and that his neighbour, whom the beadle was whipping, had come to dance at the wedding. during the civil war, there was a pillory for the special benefit of the soldiers, and it was removed from the corn market in ." the rye pillory is still kept in the town hall, and we give a picture of it from a photograph. the last time it was used was in , when a publican was put in it for aiding the escape of general phillippon, a french prisoner of war, who had been brought to this old sussex town. the pillory was erected on the beach, and the face of the culprit turned to the coast of france. mr. holloway, the local historian, supplied the late mr. llewellyn jewitt with some particulars respecting this example. "it measures," says mr. holloway, "about six feet in height, by four in width. it consists of two up-posts affixed to a platform, and has two transverse rails, the upper one of which is divided horizontally, and has a hinge to admit of the higher portion being lifted, so as to allow of the introduction of the culprit's head and hands. through the platform and the lower rail there are round perforations, into which, when the instrument was in requisition, an upright bar, probably of iron, was introduced, so as to allow the pillory, with its unfortunate tenant, to be turned bodily round at pleasure." [illustration: pillory at rye.] the famous lord thurlow was eloquent for the preservation of the pillory, which he called "the restraint against licentiousness, provided by the wisdom of past ages." this was in a case against the rev. horne tooke, who, escaped with a fine of £ . of others, who have spoken for and against it, may be mentioned lord macclesfield, who, in , condemned it as a punishment for state criminals. in , pitt claimed to have dissuaded the government from its too frequent use, as had burke. lord ellenborough, in , sentenced a blasphemer to the pillory for two hours once a month, for eighteen months. again, in , he ordered lord cochrane, the famous sea-fighter of brasque roads fame, to be pilloried for conspiring with others to spread false news. but his colleague, sir francis burdett, declared that he would stand by his side in the pillory regardless of consequences. in the then state of public opinion, the government declined to undertake the responsibility, and this punishment was waived. it was no uncommon circumstance for the offenders to be killed on the pillory, by the pelting to which they were subjected by the fury of the crowd. in , a professional witness, _i.e._, one who, for the reward offered for the conviction of criminals, would swear falsely against them, was sentenced to the pillory of seven dials, where so bitter were the populace against him that they pelted him to death. the coroner's jury returned a verdict of "wilful murder by persons unknown." in , the drovers of smithfield pelted two perjured thief-catchers so violently that one died; in , a man died from a like cause, at southwark; in , a coachman died from injuries before his time had expired. an amusing anecdote is related, bearing upon a pillory accident. "a man being condemned to the pillory in or about elizabeth's time, the foot-board on which he was placed proved to be rotten, and down it fell, leaving him hanging by the neck, in danger of his life. on being liberated, he brought an action against the town for the insufficiency of its pillory, and recovered damages."[ ] in the year , the pillory ceased to be employed for punishing persons, except in cases of perjury, and for this crime a man was put in the pillory in . the pillory, in the year , was abolished by act of parliament. at the present time in china, the cang, or cangue is employed for punishing petty offenders. from a picture we give from an original sketch recently made, it will be seen that it consists of a large wooden collar fitting close round the neck. the size and weight of the board varies, but it is not to be removed until the completion of the sentence, which may vary in length from a couple of weeks to three months. the name of the prisoner and the nature of his crime are written on the cang in large letters. he is left to public charity for support, and frequently suffers from the pangs of hunger. [illustration: the cang, china.] footnotes: [ ] chambers's "book of days." punishing authors and burning books. literary annals contain many records of the punishments of authors. the greeks and romans frequently brought writers into contempt by publicly burning their books. in england, in years agone, it was a common practice to place in the pillory authors who presumed to write against the reigning monarch, or on political and religious subjects which were not in accord with the opinions of those in power. the public hangman was often directed to make bonfires of the works of offending authors. at athens, the common crier was instructed to burn all the prohibited works of pythagoras which could be found. it is well known that numa pompilius did much to build up the glory of rome. it was he who gave to his countrymen the ceremonial laws of religion, and it was under his rule that they enjoyed the blessings of peace. his death was keenly felt by a grateful people, and he was honoured with a grand and costly funeral. in his grave were found some of his writings, which were contrary to his religious teaching; and the fact being made known to the senate, an order was made directing the manuscripts to be consumed by fire. in the days of augustus, no fewer than twenty thousand volumes were consigned on one occasion to the flames. the works of labienus were amongst those which were burnt. it was a terrible blow to the author and some of his friends. cassius severus, when he heard the sentence pronounced, exclaimed in a loud voice that they must burn him also, for he had learnt all the books by heart. it was the death-blow to labienus; he repaired to the tomb of his forefathers, refused food, and pined away. it is asserted that he was buried alive. at constantinople, leo i. caused two hundred thousand books to be consumed by fire. the bible did not escape the flames. it is stated by eusebius that, by the direction of diocletian, the scriptures were burnt. according to foxe, the well-known writer on the martyrs, on may, , bishop stokesley "caused all the new testament of tindal's translation, and many other books which he had bought, to be openly burnt in st. paul's churchyard." it was there that the bishop of rochester in a sermon denounced martin luther and all his works. he spoke of all who kept his books as accursed. not a few of the condemned works were publicly burnt during the delivery of the sermon. a man named stubbs, in the reign of queen elizabeth, lost his hand for writing a pamphlet of radical tendencies. collingbourne wrote the following couplet respecting catesby, ratcliff, and lovel giving their advice to richard iii., whose crest, it will be remembered, was a white boar: "the cat, the rat, and lovel the dog, rule all england under a hog." for writing the foregoing couplet, collingbourne was executed on tower hill. after "having been hanged," it is recorded, "he was cut down immediately, and his entrails were then extracted and thrown into the fire; and all this was so speedily performed that," stow says, "when the executioner pulled out his heart, he spoke, and said, 'jesus, jesus.'" it is generally understood that christopher marlowe translated, as a college exercise, "amores of ovid." it was a work of unusual ability; but did not, however, meet with the approval of archbishop whitgift and bishop bancroft. in consequence, in june, , all copies were ordered to be burnt. a few escaped the fire, and are now very valuable. milton's books were burnt by the common hangman, on august th, . in , dr. leighton, a clergyman, and father of the celebrated archbishop of that name, was tried and found guilty of printing a work entitled, "zion's plea against prelacy," in which he called bishops men of blood, ravens, and magpies, and pronounced the institution of episcopacy to be satanical; he called the queen a daughter of heth, and even commanded the murder of buckingham. his sentence was a hard one, and consisted of a fine of £ , . he was also degraded from the ministry, pilloried, branded, and whipped; an ear was cropped off, and his nostrils slit. after enduring these punishments, he was sent to the fleet prison. at the end of the week, he underwent a second course of cruelty, and was consigned to prison for life. after eleven weary years passed in prison, leighton was liberated, the house of commons having reversed his sentence. he was told that his mutilation and imprisonment had been illegal! at that period in our history, a book or pamphlet could not be printed without a license from the archbishop of canterbury, the bishop of london, or the authorities of the two universities. only authorised printers were permitted to set up printing presses in the city of london. any one printing without the necessary authority subjected himself to the risk of being placed in the pillory and whipped through the city. lilburne and warton disregarded the foregoing order, and printed and published libellous and seditious works. they refused to appear before the court where such offences were tried. the authorities found them guilty, and fined each man £ , and ordered them to be whipped from fleet prison to the pillory at westminster. the sentence was carried out on april the th, . lilburne appears to have been a man of dauntless courage, and when in the pillory, he gave away copies of his obnoxious works to the crowd, and addressed them on the tyranny of his persecutors. he was gagged to stop his speech. william prynne lost his ears for writing "histrio-mastix: the player's scourge, or actor's tragedie" ( .) his pillory experiences were of the most painful character. according to an entry in the annals of hull, in the year , all the books of common prayer were burned by the parliamentary soldiers, in the market-place. one of the late mr. c. h. spurgeon's predecessors, named benjamin keach, a baptist minister, of winslow, in the county of bucks, issued a work entitled, "the child's instructor; or, a new and easy primmer." the book was regarded as seditious, and the authorities had him tried for writing and publishing it, at the aylesbury assizes, on the th october, . the judge passed on him the following sentence: "benjamin keach, you are here convicted of writing and publishing a seditious and scandalous book, for which the court's judgment is this, and the court doth award, that you shall go to gaol for a fortnight, without bail or mainprise; and the next saturday to stand upon the pillory at ailsbury for the space of two hours, from eleven o'clock to one, with a paper upon your head with this inscription, _for writing, printing and publishing a schismatical book, entitled, the child's instructor, or a new and easy primmer._ and the next thursday so stand in the same manner and for the same time in the market of winslow; and there your book shall be openly burnt before your face by the common hangman, in disgrace to you and your doctrine. and you shall forfeit to the king's majesty the sum of £ and shall remain in gaol until you find sureties for your good behaviour and appearance at the next assizes, there to renounce your doctrine, and to make such public submission as shall be enjoined you." we are told that keach was kept a close prisoner until the following saturday, and on that day was carried to the pillory at aylesbury, where he stood two hours without being permitted to speak to the spectators. it is recorded that his hands as well as his head were carefully kept in the pillory the whole time. the next thursday he stood in the same manner and length of time at winslow, the town where he lived, and his book was burnt before him. "after this," we learn from howell's "state trials," "upon paying his fine, and giving sufficient security for his good behaviour, he was set at liberty; but was never brought to make recantation." [illustration: benjamin keach in the pillory.] defoe wrote much and well. he was by birth and education a dissenter, and with much ability asserted the rights of nonconformists. at a time when churchmen were trying to obtain hard measures against the dissenters, he directed against the church party a severe satire, under the title of "the shortest way with the dissenters." it exasperated the members of the government, and a reward of fifty pounds was offered for his apprehension. the advertisement respecting him is a literary curiosity, and appeared in _the london gazette_. it reads as follows: "whereas daniel de foe, _alias_ de fooe, is charged with writing a scandalous and seditious pamphlet, entitled, 'the shortest way with the dissenters.' he is a middle-sized, spare man, about forty years old, of a brown complexion, and dark brown coloured hair, but wears a wig, a hooked nose, a sharp chin, grey eyes, and a large mole near his mouth; was born in london, and for many years was a hose factor, in truman's-yard, in cornhill, and now is owner of a brick and pantile works near tilbury-fort, in essex. whoever shall discover the said daniel de foe to any of her majesty's principal secretaries of state, or any of her majesty's justices of the peace, so as he may be apprehended, shall have a reward of fifty pounds, which her majesty has ordered immediately to be paid upon such discovery." he managed to keep out of the way of the authorities, but on hearing that the printer and publisher of the pamphlet were put into prison, he gave himself up, and they were set at liberty. defoe was tried at the old bailey, in july, , and pleaded guilty. it is said that he put in this plea on the promise of pardon secretly given to him. he did not, however, escape punishment; he was fined two hundred marks, and ordered to appear three times in the pillory, and remain in prison during the queen's pleasure. during his imprisonment before being placed in the pillory, he wrote the famous "hymn to the pillory," which was speedily put into type and sung by the crowd at the time defoe was in the machine. here are some lines from it: hail hieroglyphic state machine, contrived to punish fancy in: men that are men in thee can feel no pain, and all thy insignificants disdain; contempt, that false new word for shame, is, without crime, an empty name; a shadow to amuse mankind, but ne'er to fright the wise or well-fixed mind. virtue despises human scorn! · · · even learned selden saw a prospect of thee through the law. he had thy lofty pinnacles in view, but so much honour never was thy due. the first intent of laws was to correct the effect, and check the cause, and all the ends of punishment were only future mischiefs to prevent. but justice is interverted when those engines of the law, instead of pinching vicious men, keep honest ones in awe. · · · tell them the men that placed him there are friends unto the times; but at a loss to find his guilt, and can't commit his crimes. defoe fared well in the pillory. he was not pelted with rotten eggs, but with flowers; and beautiful garlands were suspended from the pillory. in a modest manner, he gave an account of the affair. "the people," he wrote, "were expected to treat me very ill, but it was not so. on the contrary, they were with me--wished those who had set me there were placed in my room, and expressed their affections by loud thanks and acclamations when i was taken down." there is not the least truth in pope's well-known, and we may say disgraceful line: earless, on high stood unabash'd de foe. after defoe had spent about a year in prison, the queen sent to his wife money to pay the fine. a work was issued in , entitled, "the superiority and dominion of the crown of england over the crown of scotland," by william attwood. the scottish parliament had the publication under consideration, and pronounced it scurrilous and full of falsehoods, and finally commanded the public hangman of edinburgh to burn the book. williams, the bookseller, was put in the pillory in the year , for republishing the _north briton_ in forty-five volumes. "the coach," says _the gentleman's magazine_, "that carried him from the king's bench prison to the pillory was no. . he was received with the acclamations of a prodigious concourse of people. opposite to the pillory were erected two ladders, with cords running from each other, on which were hung a jack-boot, an axe, and a scotch bonnet. the latter, after remaining some time, was burnt, and the top-boot chopped off. during his standing, also, a purple purse, ornamented with ribbands of an orange colour, was produced by a gentleman, who began a collection in favour of the culprit by putting a guinea into it himself, after which, the purse being carried round, many contributed, to the amount in the whole, as supposed, of about two hundred guineas." the spectators loudly cheered mr. williams on getting into and out of the pillory. he held a sprig of laurel in his hand during the time he was confined in the pillory. alexander wilson, the famous ornithologist and poet, in the year , was tried for publishing some satirical poems concerning certain paisley manufacturers. the pieces were regarded as libellous, and he was fined £ s. d., and condemned to burn in a public manner his poems at the market cross at paisley. the poet was unable to pay the fine, and had to go to prison for a short time. the circumstance was the chief cause of wilson leaving scotland for america. finger pillory. finger pillories, or stocks, in past ages, were probably frequently employed in the old manorial halls of england; but at the present period only traces of a few are to be found. the most interesting example is one in the parish church of ashby-de-la-zouch, leicestershire, which has been frequently described and illustrated. an account of it appears in _notes and queries_ of october th, . it is described as "fastened at its right hand extremity into a wall, and consists of two pieces of oak; the bottom and fixed piece is three feet eight inches long; the width of the whole is four-and-a-half inches, and when closed, it is five inches deep: the left hand extremity is supported by a leg of the same width as the top, and two feet six inches in length; the upper piece is joined to the lower by a hinge, and in this lower and fixed horizontal part are a number of holes, varying in size; the largest are towards the right hand: these holes are sufficiently deep to admit the finger to the second joint, and a slight hollow is made to admit the third one, which lies flat; there is, of course, a corresponding hollow at the top of the moveable part, which, when shut down, encloses the whole finger." thomas wright, f.s.a., in his "archæological album," gives an illustration of the ashby-de-la-zouch example, and we reproduce a copy. it shows the manner in which the finger was confined, and it will easily be seen that it could not be withdrawn until the pillory was opened. if the offender were held long in this posture, the punishment must have been extremely painful. [illustration: finger-pillory, ashby-de-la-zouch.] amongst the old-time relics at littlecote hall, an ancient wiltshire mansion, may still be seen a finger-pillory. it is made of oak. we give an illustration of it from a drawing executed expressly for this work. at littlecote hall it is spoken of as an instrument of domestic punishment. plot, in his "history of staffordshire," published in , gives an illustration of one of these old-time finger-pillories. "i cannot forget," writes plot, "a piece of art that i found in the hall of the right honourable william lord paget, at beaudesart, made for the punishment of disorders that sometimes attend feasting, in christmas time, etc., called the finger-stocks, into which the lord of misrule used to put the fingers of all such persons as committed misdemeanours, or broke such rules as, by consent, were agreed on for the time of keeping christmas among the servants and others of promiscuous quality; these being divided in like manner as the stocks of the legs, and having holes of different sizes to fit for scantlings of all fingers, as represented in the table." we reproduce a sketch of plot's picture. [illustration: finger-pillory, littlecote hall.] in an account of the customs of the manor of ashton-under-lyne, in the fifteenth century, it is stated at the manorial festivals, "in order to preserve as much as possible the degree of decorum that was necessary, there were frequently introduced a diminutive pair of stone stocks of about eighteen inches in length, for confining within them the fingers of the unruly." [illustration: finger-pillory, beaudesart.] in connection with this chapter may be fitly included a picture of a finger-pillory in the possession of mr. england howlett, kirton-in-lindsey, lincolnshire. our illustration is half the size of the original implement represented, which is from a welsh village. this ingenious contrivance was used until the early part of this century. it was kept on the dame's desk, and when the children went up to say their lessons they had to place their hands behind them, putting their fingers into the holes of the pillory, and bringing their hands back to back. when properly fixed, the hands were quite fast and the shoulders held well back. this kind of finger-pillory was frequently used as a means of punishment in schools. [illustration: finger-pillory from an old dame's school.] the jougs. this old-time instrument of punishment was more generally used in north britain than in england. it was employed in holland, and most likely in other countries. in scotland, its history may be traced back to the sixteenth century, and from that period down to about a hundred years ago, it was a popular means of enforcing ecclesiastical discipline, and was also brought into requisition for punishing persons guilty of the lesser civil offences. in scotland the jougs were usually fastened to a church door, a tree in a churchyard, the post of a church gate, a market cross, or a market tron, or weighing-post, and not infrequently to prison doors. the jougs are simple in form, consisting of an iron ring or collar, with a joint or hinge at the back to permit its being opened and closed, and in the front are loops for the affixing of a padlock to secure it round the neck of the culprit. the "diary of henry machyn, citizen and merchant-taylor of london, from a.d. to a.d. " (published by the camden society in ), contains the following note on the use of the jougs: "the th day of june, ," it is stated, "was set a post hard by the standard in cheap, and a young fellow tied to the post with a collar of iron about his neck, and another to the post with a chain, and two men with two whips whipping them about the post, for pretended visions and opprobrious and seditious words." we have modernised the spelling of machyn. disregarding parental authority in scotland was frequently the cause of young folk being punished by the jougs, and in other ways. harsh rules of life were by no means confined to north britain. in tudor england manners were severe and formal, parents exacting abject deference from their offspring. a child did not presume to speak or sit down without leave in presence of its parents. a little leniency was extended to girls, for when tired they might kneel on cushions at the far end of the room; but boys were expected to stand with their heads uncovered. it is to be feared that true domestic bliss was almost unknown in olden times. teachers were equally tyrannical, and it is a matter of history that roger ascham, the tutor of queen elizabeth, used to "pinch, nip, and bob [slap] the princess when she displeased him." some very curious facts relating to this subject appear in the old kirk-session records. "david leyes, who struck his father," was, by a kirk-session of st. andrews, in , sentenced to appear before the congregation "bairheddit and beirfuttit, upon the highest degree of the penitent stuool, with a hammer in the ane hand and ane stane in the uther hand, as the twa instruments he mannesit his father,--with ane papir writin in great letteris about his heid with these wordis, 'behold the onnaturall son, punished for putting hand on his father, and dishonouring of god in him.'" nor was this deemed sufficient humiliation, for the offender was afterwards made to stand at the market cross two hours "in the jaggs, and thereafter cartit through the haill toun." it was also resolved that "if ever he offended father or mother heireafter, the member of his body quhairby he offendit sal be cuttit off from him, be it tung, hand or futt without mercy, as examples to utheris to abstein fra the lyke." at glasgow, in the year , the presbytery carefully considered the conduct of a youth who had passed his father "without lifting his bonnet." a servant in wigtown, in , was brought before the magistrates for raising her hand and abusing her mistress, and was ordered to stand a full hour with the jougs round her neck. at rothesay, a woman gave the members of the kirk-session a great deal of trouble through departing from the path of sobriety. persuasion and rebuke were tried without avail. at last, in the year , the session warned her that "if hereafter she should be found drunk, she would be put in the jouggs and have her dittay written on her face."[ ] mr. james s. thomson read a paper before the dumfries antiquarian society, supplying some interesting glimpses of bygone times, furnished by the kirk-session records of dumfries. not the least important information was that relating to punishments of the past. it will not be without interest to notice a few of the cases. in the year , a man named thomas meik had been found guilty of slandering agnes fleming, and he was sentenced to stand for a certain time in the jougs at the tron, and subsequently on his bare knees at the market cross to ask her pardon. the case of bessie black was investigated, and it was proved that for the third time she had been found guilty of leaving the path of virtue, and for her transgressions she was directed for six sabbaths to stand at the cross in the jougs. in another case it was proved that two servants had been found guilty of scolding each other, and sentence was given that they were "to be put into the jougs presently." a curious sentence was passed in the year . a man and his wife were ordered to stand at the kirk-style with the branks in their mouths. [illustration: the jougs, priory church, bridlington.] exposure of persons to the contempt of the public was formerly a common form of punishment in scotland. curious information bearing on the subject may be gleaned from the old newspapers. we gather from the columns of the _aberdeen journal_, for the year , particulars of three women, named janet shinney, margaret barrack, and mary duncan, who suffered by being exposed in public. "upon trial," it is reported, "they were convicted, by their own confessions, of being in the practice, for some time past, of stealing and resetting tea and sugar, and several other kinds of merchant's goods, from a merchant in the town. and the magistrates have sentenced them to be carried to the market cross of aberdeen, on thursday the st [may, ], at twelve o'clock at noon, and to be tied to a stake bareheaded for one hour by the executioner, with a rope about each of their necks, and a paper on their breasts denoting their crime; to be removed to prison, and taken down again on friday the st june at twelve o'clock, and to stand an hour at the market cross in the manner above mentioned; and thereafter to be transported through the whole streets of the town in a cart bareheaded (for the greater ignominy), with the executioner and tuck of drum, and to be banished the burgh and liberties in all time coming." in bygone ages, it was a common custom to banish persons from towns for immoral conduct. a woman at dumfries, for example, was for a fourth lapse from virtue sentenced "to be carted from the toun." at a meeting of the kirk-session at lesmahagow, held in june, , the case of a shepherd who had shorn his sheep on the parish fast was seriously discussed, with a view to severely punishing him for the offence. a minute as follows was passed: "the session, considering that there are several scandals of this nature breaking forth, recommends to the bailie of the bailerie of lesmahagow to fix a pair of jougs at the kirk door, that he may cause punish corporally those who are not able to pay fines, and that according to law." a common word in ayrshire for the jougs was "bregan." in the accounts of the parish of mauchline is an entry as under: . for a lock to the bregan and mending it £ in jamieson's "dictionary" it is spelled "braidyeane." persons neglecting to attend church on the sunday were frequently put into the jougs. several cases of this kind might be cited, but perhaps particulars of one will be sufficient. a man named john persene was brought before the kirk-session of galston, in . he admitted he had not been to church for the space of five weeks. for thus neglecting to attend to the ordinances, he was "injoyned to apier in the public place of repentence, and there to be publicly rebuked, with certificatione that if he be found to be two sabbaths together absent from the church he shall be put in the breggan." in "prehistoric annals of scotland," by daniel wilson, ll.d. (london, ), there is a drawing of a fine old pair of jougs, "found," says wilson, "imbedded in a venerable ash tree, recently blown down, at the churchyard gate, applegirth, dumfriesshire. the tree, which was of great girth, is believed to have been upwards of three hundred years old, and the jougs were completely imbedded in its trunk, while the chain and staple hung down within the decayed and hollow core." the jougs belonging to the parish of galashiels are preserved at abbotsford. at merton, berwickshire, the jougs may be seen at the church. the fenwick jougs are still fastened to the church wall, and the old session records of the parish contain references to cases where persons were ordered to "stand in the jougs from eight till ten, and thence go to the place of repentence within ye kirk." at the village of kilmaurs, ayrshire, the jougs are attached to the old tolbooth, at the town of kinross are fastened to the market cross, and at sanquhar they are in front of the town hall. [illustration: jougs from the old church of clova, forfarshire.] we give three illustrations of the jougs. one represents a very fine example, which may be seen in the priory church of bridlington, yorkshire. we believe that this is the first picture which has been published of this interesting old-times relic. it is referred to in the local guide book, but no information is given as to when last used. it is stated in the "history of wakefield cathedral," by john w. walker, f.s.a., that "an old chain, leaded into the wall at the junction of the north aisle with the tower in the interior of the church, is said to have been used for the purpose of fastening up persons who disturbed the service." this may be safely assumed that formerly the jougs were affixed at the end of the chain. [illustration: the jougs at duddingston.] in the museum of the society of antiquaries of scotland, edinburgh, may be seen the jougs of the old parish church of clova, forfarshire. about a mile from edinburgh is the charming hamlet of duddingston, and at the churchyard gate are the jougs, which form a curious link between the ruder customs of bygone ages and the more refined life of modern times. footnotes: [ ] rogers's "scotland, social and domestic." the stocks. stocks were used, at an early period, as a means of punishing breakers of the law. the precise date when they were first employed in this country is not known, but we may infer from early mediæval illustrations that the stocks were in general use amongst the anglo-saxons, for they often figure in drawings of their public places. the picture we here give is from the harleian mss., no. . the stocks were usually placed by the side of the public road, at the entrance of a town. it will be observed that two offenders are fastened to the columns of a public building by means of a rope or chain. it has been suggested that it is a court-house. [illustration: anglo-saxon punishments.] the "cambridge trinity college psalter"--an illuminated manuscript--presents some curious illustrations of the manners of the earlier half of the twelfth century. we give a reproduction of one of its quaint pictures. two men are in the stocks; one, it will be seen, is held by one leg only, and the other by both, and a couple of persons are taunting them in their time of trouble. [illustration: taunting persons in the stocks.] stocks were not only used as a mode of punishment, but as means of securing offenders. in bygone times, every vill of common right was compelled to erect a pair of stocks at its own expense. the constable by common law might place persons in the stocks to keep them in hold, but not by way of punishment. we gather from an act passed during the reign of edward iii., in the year , and known as the second statute of labourers, that if artificers were unruly they were liable to be placed in the stocks. some years later, namely, in , the commons prayed that the stocks might be established in every village. in , an act was passed for every town and village to be provided with a pair of stocks, so that a place which had not this instrument of punishment and detention was regarded as a hamlet. no village was considered to be complete, or even worthy of the name of village, without its stocks, so essential to due order and government were they deemed to be. a shropshire historian, speaking of a hamlet called hulston, in the township of middle, in order, apparently, to prove that in calling the place a hamlet and not a village he was speaking correctly, remarks in proof of his assertion, that hulston did not then, or ever before, possess a constable, a pound, or stocks.[ ] wynkyn de worde, who, in company with richard pynsent, succeeded to caxton's printing business, in the year , issued from his press the play of "hick scorner," and in one of the scenes the stocks are introduced. the works of shakespeare include numerous allusions to this subject. launce, in "the two gentlemen of verona" (iv. ), says: "i have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath stolen." in "all's well that ends well" (iv. ), bertram says: "come, bring forth this counterfeit module has deceived me, like a double-meaning prophesier." whereupon one of the french lords adds: "bring him forth; has sat i' stocks all night, poor gallant knave." volumnia says of coriolanus (v. ): "there's no man in the world more bound to's mother; yet here let me prate like one i' the stocks." again, in the "comedy of errors" (iii. ), luce speaks of "a pair of stocks in the town," and in "king lear" (ii. ), cornwall, referring to kent, says: "fetch forth the stocks! you stubborn ancient knave." it would seem that formerly, in great houses, as in some colleges, there were movable stocks for the correction of the servants.[ ] in butler's "hudibras" are allusions to the stocks. says the poet: "an old dull sot, who toll'd the clock for many years at bridewell-dock; · · · engaged the constable to seize all those that would not break the peace; let out the stocks and whipping-post, and cage, to those that gave him most." we are enabled, by the kindness of mr. austin dobson, author of "thomas bewick and his pupils," to reproduce from that work a picture of the stocks, engraved by charlton nesbit for butler's "hudibras," . [illustration: in the stocks, by nesbit.] scottish history contains allusions to the stocks; but in north britain they do not appear to have been so generally used as in england. on the th august, , a case occupied the attention of the members of the kirk-session of kinghorn. it was proved that a man named william allan had been guilty of abusing his wife on the sabbath, and for the offence was condemned to be placed twenty-four hours in the stocks, and subsequently to stand in the jougs two hours on a market day. it was further intimated to him that if he again abused his wife, he would be banished from the town. we give a picture of the stocks formerly in the canongate tolbooth, edinburgh, and now in the scottish antiquarian museum. [illustration: stocks from the canongate tolbooth.] it was enacted, in the year , that every person convicted of drunkenness should be fined five shillings or spend six hours in the stocks, and james i., in the year , confirmed the act. stocks were usually employed for punishing drunkards, but drunkenness was by no means the only offence for which they were brought into requisition. wood-stealers, or, as they were styled, "hedge-tearers," were, about , set in the stocks two days in the open street, with the stolen wood before them, as a punishment for a second offence.[ ] vagrants were in former times often put in the stocks, and canning's "needy knife-grinder" was taken for one, and punished. in a valuable work mainly dealing with devonshire, by a. h. a. hamilton, entitled, "quarter sessions from queen elizabeth to queen anne," there is an important note on this subject. "a favourite punishment," says hamilton, "for small offences, such as resisting a constable, was the stocks. the offender had to come into the church at morning prayer, and say publicly that he was sorry, and was then set in the stocks until the end of the evening prayer. the punishment was generally repeated on the next market day." tippling on a sunday during public divine service was in years agone a violation of the laws, and frequently was the means of offenders being placed in the stocks. in sheffield, from a record dated february th, , we find that for drinking in a public-house, during the time of service in the church, nine men were locked in the stocks. "two boys," we find it is stated in the same work, "were made to do penance in the church for playing at trip during divine service, by standing in the midst of the church with their trip sticks erect." not far distant from sheffield is the village of whiston, and here remain the old parish stocks near to the church, and bear the date of . perhaps the most notable person ever placed in the stocks for drinking freely, but not wisely, was cardinal wolsey. he was, about the year , the incumbent at lymington, near yeovil, and at the village feast had overstepped the bounds of moderation, and his condition being made known to sir amias poulett, j.p., a strict moralist, he was, by his instructions, humiliated by being placed in the stocks. it was the general practice in bygone days, not very far remote, for churchwardens to visit the various public-houses during the time of church service and see that no persons were drinking. at beverley, about , the representatives of the church, while on their rounds, met in the streets a well-known local character called jim brigham, staggering along the street. the poor fellow was taken into custody, and next day brought before the mayor, and after being severely spoken to about the sin of sunday tippling, he was sentenced to the stocks for two hours. an eye-witness to jim's punishment says: "while he was in the stocks, one of the corporation officials placed in jim's hat a sheet of paper, stating the cause of his punishment and its extent. a young man who had been articled to a lawyer, but who was not practising, stepped forward, and taking the paper out, tore it into shreds, remarking it was no part of jim's sentence to be subjected to that additional disgrace. the act was applauded by the onlookers. one working-man who sympathised with him, filled and lit a tobacco pipe, and placed it in jim's mouth; but it was instantly removed by one of the constables, who considered it was a most flagrant act, and one calling for prompt interference on the part of the guardians of the law." brigham was the last person punished in the stocks at beverley. the stocks, which bear the date , were movable, and fitted into sockets near the market cross. they are still preserved in a chamber at st. mary's in that town. the minster, beverley, had also its stocks, which are still preserved in the roof of that splendid edifice. the stocks were last used at market drayton about sixty years ago. "it is related," says mr. morris, "that some men, for imbibing too freely and speaking unseemly language to parishioners, as they were going to church on a sunday morning, were, on the following day, duly charged with the offence and fined, the alternative being confinement for four hours in the stocks. two of the men refused to pay the fine, and were consequently put therein. the people flocked around them, and, while some regaled them with an ample supply of beer, others expressed their sympathy in a more practical way by giving them money, so that, when released, their heads and their pockets were considerably heavier than they had been on the previous sunday." at ellesmere, the stocks, whipping-post, and pillory were a combination of engines of punishment. the former were frequently in use for the correction of drunkards. a regular customer, we read, was "honoured by a local poet with some impromptu verses not unworthy of reproduction: "'a tailor here! confined in stocks, a prison made of wood--a--, weeping and wailing to get out, but couldna' for his blood--a-- "'the pillory, it hung o'er his head, the whipping-post so near--a-- a crowd of people round about did at william laugh and jeer--a--'" "the style was," it is said, "a sarcastic imitation of 'william's' peculiar manner of speaking when tipsy." according to mr. christopher a. markham, in his notices of gretton stocks, they "still stand on the village green; they were made to secure three men, and have shackles on the post for whipping; they are in a good state of repair. joshua pollard, of gretton, was placed in them, in the year , for six hours, in default of paying five shillings and costs for drunkenness." in the following year a man was put in the stocks for a similar offence. it is asserted that a man was placed in the aynhoe stocks in for using bad language. card-sharpers and the like often suffered in the stocks. it appears from the _shrewsbury chronicle_ of may st, , that the punishment of the stocks was inflicted "at shrewsbury on three birmingham youths for imposing on 'the flats' of the town with the games of 'thimble and pea' and 'prick the garter.'" a very late instance of a man being placed in the stocks for gambling was recorded in the _leeds mercury_, under date of april th, . "a notorious character," it is stated, "named john gambles, of stanningley, having been convicted some months ago for sunday gambling, and sentenced to sit in the stocks for six hours, left the locality, returned lately, and suffered his punishment by sitting in the stocks from two till eight o'clock on tuesday last." several writers on this old form of punishment regard the foregoing as the latest instance of a person being confined in the stocks; it is, however, not the case, for one mark tuck, of newbury, berkshire, in , was placed in them. the following particulars are furnished in _notes and queries_, th series, vol. x., p. :--"a novel scene was presented in the butter and poultry market, at newbury, on tuesday (june th, ) afternoon. mark tuck, a rag and bone dealer, who for several years had been well known in the town as a man of intemperate habits, and upon whom imprisonment in reading gaol had failed to produce any beneficial effect, was fixed in the stocks for drunkenness and disorderly conduct in the parish church on monday evening. twenty-six years had elapsed since the stocks were last used, and their reappearance created no little sensation and amusement, several hundreds of persons being attracted to the spot where they were fixed. tuck was seated upon a stool, and his legs were secured in the stocks at a few minutes past one o'clock, and as the church clock, immediately facing him, chimed each quarter, he uttered expressions of thankfulness, and seemed anything but pleased at the laughter and derision of the crowd. four hours having passed, tuck was released, and by a little stratagem on the part of the police, he escaped without being interfered with by the crowd." attendance and repairing stocks formed quite important items in old parish accounts. a few entries drawn from the township account-books of skipton, may be reproduced as examples:-- s. d. april th, .--for taking up a man and setting in ye stocks march th, .--for mending stocks--wood and iron work july th, .--for pillory and stocks renewing march th, .--paid john lambert for repairing the stocks march th, .--paid christ. brown for repairing the stocks during their later years, the skipton stocks were used almost solely on sundays. a practice prevailed at skipton similar to the one we have described at beverley. "at a certain stage in the morning service at the church," writes mr. dawson, the local historian, "the churchwardens of the town and country parishes withdrew, and headed by the old beadle walked through the streets of the town. if a person was found drunk in the streets, or even drinking in one of the inns, he was promptly escorted to the stocks, and impounded for the remainder of the morning. an imposing personage was the beadle. he wore a cocked hat, trimmed, as was his official coat, with gold, and he carried about with him in majestic style a trident staff. 'a terror to evildoers' he certainly was--at any rate, to those of tender years."[ ] the churchwardens not infrequently partook of a slight refreshment during their sunday morning rounds, and we remember seeing in the police reports of a yorkshire town that some highly respectable representatives of the church had been fined for drinking at an inn during their tour of inspection. [illustration: _from a photo by a. whitford anderson, esq., watford._ stocks and whipping-post, aldbury.] "at bramhall, cheshire," says mr. alfred burton, to whom we are indebted for several illustrations and many valuable notes in this book, "the stocks were perfect till , when the leg-stones were unfortunately taken away, and cannot now be found. thomas leah, about , was the last person put into them. he went to the constable and asked to be placed in the stocks, a request that was granted, and he remained there all night. on the th august, , two women were incarcerated in the stocks in the market place at stockport, for three hours, one for getting drunk, the other for gross and deliberate scandal." we give an illustration from a recent photograph by mr. a. whitford anderson, of watford, of the stocks and whipping-post at aldbury, hertfordshire. it presents one of the best pictures of these old-time relics which has come under our notice. we have no desire for the stocks and lash to be revived, but we hope these obsolete engines of punishments will long remain linking the past with the present. [illustration] in closing this chapter we must not omit to state that in the olden time persons refusing to assist in getting in the corn or hay harvest were liable to be imprisoned in the stocks. at the northamptonshire quarter sessions held in , the time was fixed at two days and one night. footnotes: [ ] morris's "obsolete punishments of shropshire." [ ] dyer's "folk-lore of shakespeare." [ ] roberts's "social history of the southern counties of england," . [ ] w. h. dawson's "history of skipton," . the drunkard's cloak. several historians, dealing with the social life of england in bygone times, have described the wearing of a barrel after the manner of a cloak as a general mode of punishing drunkards, in force during the commonwealth. there appears to be little foundation for the statement, and, after careful consideration, we have come to the conclusion that this mode of punishment was, as regards this country, confined to newcastle-on-tyne. in the year was printed in london a work entitled, "england's grievance discovered in relation to the coal trade," by ralph gardner, of chirton, in the county of northumberland, gent. the book is dedicated to "oliver, lord protector." gardner not only gave a list of grievances, but suggested measures to reform them. it will be gathered from the following proposed remedy that he was not any advocate of half measures in punishing persons guilty of offences. he suggested that a law be created for death to those who should commit perjury, forgery, or bribery. more than one writer has said that gardner was executed in , at york, for coining, but there is not any truth in the statement. we have proof that he was conducting his business after the year in which it is stated that he suffered death at the hands of the public executioner. gardner, in his work, gave depositions of witnesses to support his charges against "the tyrannical oppression of the magistrates of newcastle-on-tyne." "john willis, of ipswich," he writes, "upon his oath said, that he, and this deponent, was in newcastle six months ago, and there he saw one ann bridlestone drove through the streets by an officer of the same corporation, holding a rope in his hand, the other end fastened to an engine called the branks, which is like a crown, it being of iron, which was musled over the head and face, with a great gag or tongue of iron forced into her mouth, which forced the blood out; and that is the punishment which the magistrates do inflict upon chiding and scoulding women; and he hath often seen the like done to others." "he, this deponent, further affirms, that he hath seen men drove up and down the streets, with a great tub or barrel opened in the sides, with a hole in one end to put through their heads, and so cover their shoulders and bodies, down to the small of their legs, and then close the same, called the new-fashioned cloak, and so make them march to the view of all beholders; and this is their punishment for drunkards and the like." [illustration: brank and drunkard's cloak, newcastle-on-tyne.] several other forms of punishment are mentioned by gardner. drunkards, we gather, for the first offence were fined five shillings, to be given to the poor, or in default of payment within a week, were set in the stocks for six hours. for the second offence they had to be bound for good behaviour. scolds had to be ducked over head and ears in a ducking-stool. "i was certainly informed," wrote gardner, "by persons of worth, that the punishments above are but gentle admonitions to what they knew was acted by two magistrates of newcastle: one for killing a poor workman of his own, and being questioned for it, and condemned, compounded with king james for it, paying to a scotch lord his weight in gold and silver, every seven years or thereabouts, etc. the other magistrate found a poor man cutting a few horse sticks in his wood, for which offence he bound him to a tree, and whipt him to death." the rev. john brand, in , published his "history of newcastle-on-tyne," and reproduced in it gardner's notice of the drunkard's cloak. brand gives a picture of the cloak, and mr. j. r. boyle, f.s.a., a leading authority on north country bibliography, tells us that he believes it to be the first pictorial representation of the cloak. our illustration is from richardson's "local historian's table book." mr. walter scott, publisher, of newcastle-on-tyne, has kindly lent us the block. dr. t. n. brushfield, to whom we are under an obligation for several of the facts included in this chapter, read before the british archæological association, february th, , a paper on this theme. "it is rather remarkable," said dr. brushfield, "that no allusion to this punishment is to be found in the newcastle corporation accounts or other local documents." we have reproduced from gardner's volume the only testimony we possess of the administration of the punishment in england. there are many traces of this kind of cloak on the continent. it is noticed in "travels in holland," by sir william brereton, under date of may th, , as seen at delft. john evelyn visited delft, on august th, , and writes that in the senate house "hangs a weighty vessel of wood, not unlike a butter-churn, which the adventurous woman that hath two husbands at one time is to wear on her shoulders, her head peeping out at the top only, and so led about the town, as a penance for her incontinence." samuel pepys has an entry in his diary respecting seeing a similar barrel at the hague, in the year . we have traces of this mode of punishment in germany. john howard, in his work entitled "the state of prisons in england and wales," , thus writes: "denmark.--some (criminals) of the lower sort, as watchmen, coachmen, etc., are punished by being led through the city in what is called 'the spanish mantle.' this is a kind of heavy vest, something like a tub, with an aperture for the head, and irons to enclose the neck. i measured one at berlin, ft. in. in diameter at the top, ft. in. at the bottom, and ft. in. high.... this mode of punishment is particularly dreaded, and is one cause that night robberies are never heard of in copenhagen." we may safely conclude that the drunkard's cloak was introduced into newcastle from the continent. the author of a paper published in , under the title of "a look at the federal army," after speaking of crossing the susquehanna, has some remarks about punishments. "i was," says the writer, "extremely amused to see a 'rare' specimen of yankee invention, in the shape of an original method of punishment drill. one wretched delinquent was gratuitously framed in oak, his head being thrust through a hole cut in one end of a barrel, the other end of which had been removed; and the poor fellow 'loafed' about in the most disconsolate manner, looking for all the world like a half-hatched chicken. another defaulter had heavy weights fastened to his wrists, his hands and feet being chained together." in conclusion, we are told that the punishments were as various as the crimes, but the man in the pillory-like barrel was deemed the most ludicrous. [illustration: punishment of a drunkard.] the early english settlers in america introduced many english customs into the country. the pillory, stocks, ducking-stool, etc., were frequently employed. drunkards were punished in various ways; sometimes they had to wear a large "d" in red, which was painted on a board or card, and suspended by a string round the neck. at haddon, derbyshire, is a curious relic of bygone times, consisting of an iron handcuff or ring, fastened to some woodwork in the banqueting hall. if a person refused to drink the liquor assigned to him, or committed an offence against the convivial customs at the festive gatherings for which this ancient mansion was so famous, his wrist was locked in an upright position in the iron ring, and the liquor he had declined, or a quantity of cold water, was poured down the sleeve of his doublet. whipping and whipping-posts. the anglo-saxons whipped prisoners with a whip of three cords, knotted at the end. it was not an uncommon practice for mistresses to whip, or have their servants whipped, to death. william of malmesbury relates a story to the effect that when king ethelred was a child, he on one occasion displeased his mother, and she, not having a whip at hand, flogged him with some candles until he was nearly insensible with pain. "on this account," so runs the story, "he dreaded candles during the rest of his life to such a degree that he would never suffer the light of them to be introduced in his presence." during the saxon epoch, flogging was generally adopted as means of punishing persons guilty of offences, whether slight or serious. for a long time in our history, payments for using the lash formed important items in the municipal accounts of towns or parish accounts of villages. before the monasteries were dissolved, the poor were relieved at them. no sooner had they passed away than the vagrants became a nuisance, and steps were taken to put a stop to begging; indeed, prior to this period attempts had been made to check wandering vagrants. they were referred to in the "statute of labourers," passed in the year . not a few enactments were made to keep down vagrancy. in the reign of edward vi., in , an act was passed, from which it appears "that any person who had offered them work which they refused, was authorised to brand them on the breast with a v, hold them in slavery for two years, feed them during that period on bread and water, and hire them out to others." the act failed on account of its severity, and was repealed in . it was in the reign of henry viii., and in the year , that the famous whipping act was instituted, directing that vagrants were to be carried to some market town or other place, "and there tied to the end of a cart naked, and beaten with whips throughout such market town, or other place, till the body shall be bloody by reason of such whipping." vagrants, after being whipped, had to take an oath that they would return to their native places, or where they had last dwelt for three years. various temporary modifications were made in this act, but it remained in force until the thirty-ninth year of the reign of queen elizabeth, when some important alterations were made. persons were not to be publicly whipped naked, as previously, but from the middle upwards, and whipped until the body should be bloody. it was at this time that the whipping-post was substituted for the cart. whipping-posts soon became plentiful. john taylor, "the water poet," in one of his works, published in , adverts to them as follows: "in london, and within a mile, i ween, there are jails or prisons full eighteen, and sixty whipping-posts and stocks and cages." we give an illustration of the waltham abbey whipping-post and stocks, as they appeared when they stood within the old wooden market-house, which was pulled down in . the post bears on it the date , and is feet inches high; it is strongly made of oak, with iron clasps for the hands when employed as a whipping-post, and for the feet when used as the stocks. it is rather more elaborate than others which have come under our notice. it will be observed the seat for the culprits placed in the stocks was beside one of the immense oak pillars of the market-house. they are now placed with the remains of the pillory at the entrance of the schoolroom, on the south-west side of the church. [illustration: waltham abbey whipping-post and stocks.] some of the authorities regarded with greater favour the punishment at the whipping-post than at the cart tail. an old writer deals at some length with the benefit of the former. says he: "if to put in execution the laws of the land be of any service to the nation, which few, i think, will deny, the benefits of the whipping-post must be very apparent, as being a necessary instrument to such an execution. indeed, the service it does to a country is inconceivable. i, myself, know a man who had proceeded to lay his hand upon a silver spoon with a design to make it his own, but on looking round, and seeing the whipping-post in his way, he desisted from the theft. whether he suspected that the post would impeach him or not, i will not pretend to determine; some folks were of opinion that he was afraid of _habeas corpus_. it is likewise an infallible remedy for all lewd and disorderly behaviour, which the chairman at sessions generally employs to restrain; nor is it less beneficial to the honest part of mankind than the dishonest, for though it lies immediately in the high road to the gallows, it has stopped many an adventurous young man in his progress thither." the records of the worcester corporation contain many references to old-time punishments. in the year was made in the bye-law book a note of the fact that for some years past a want has been felt "for certain instruments for applying to the execution of justice upon offenders, namely, the pillory, whipping-post, and gum-stoole." the chamberlain was directed to obtain the same. we gather from the proceedings of the doncaster town council that on the th of may, , an order was made for the erection of a whipping-post, to be set up at the stocks, butcher-cross, for punishing vagrants and sturdy beggars. notices of whipping sometimes appear in old church books. at kingston-on-thames, under date of september th, , it is recorded in the parish register as follows: "this day in this towne was kept the sessions of gayle delyverye, and ther was hanged vj. persons, and xvj. taken for roges and vagabonds, and whypped aboyt the market-place, and brent in the ears." at the quarter sessions in devonshire, held at easter, , it was ordered that the mothers of illegitimate children be whipped. the reputed fathers had to undergo a like punishment. a very strange order was made in the same county during the commonwealth, and it was to the effect that every woman who had been the mother of an illegitimate child, and had not been previously punished, be committed for trial. mr. hamilton, in his work on the "quarter sessions from queen elizabeth to queen anne," has many curious notes on the subject. the scotch pedlars and others who wended their way to push their trade in the west of england, ran a great risk of being whipped. at the midsummer sessions, in the year , information was given to the court showing that certain scotch pedlars, or other petty chapmen, were in the habit of selling their goods to the "greate damage and hindrance of shopp keepers." the court passed measures for the protection of the local tradesmen, and directed the petty constables to apprehend the strangers, and without further ceremony to strip them naked, and whip them, or cause them to be openly flogged, and sent away. the churchwardens' accounts of barnsley contain references to the practice of whipping. charges as follow occur: . william roggers, for going with six wanderers to ardsley ijd. mr. garnett, for makinge them a pass iijd. richard white, for whippeinge them accordinge to law ijd. the constable's accounts of the same town, from to , include items similar to the following: to edward wood, for whiping of three wanderers sent to their dwelling-place by sir george plint and mr. rockley iiijd. it appears from the corporation accounts of congleton, cheshire, that persons were whipped at the cart tail. we find it stated: . paid to boy for whippinge john ffoxe paid for a carte to tye the said ffoxe unto when he was whipped the notorious judge jeffreys, on one occasion, in sentencing a woman to be whipped, said: "hangman, i charge you to pay particular attention to this lady. scourge her soundly, man; scourge her till her blood runs down! it is christmas, a cold time for madam to strip. see that you warm her shoulders thoroughly!" at worcester, in , a new whipping-post was erected in the corn market, at a cost of s. "men and women," says a local historian, "were whipped here promiscuously in public till the close of the last century, if not later. fourpence was the old charge for whipping male and female rogues." the next note on whipping is drawn from the church register of burnham, bucks, and is one of several similar entries: "benjamin smat, and his wife and three children, vagrant beggars; he of middle stature, but one eye, was this th day of september, , with his wife and children, openly whipped at boveney, in the parish of burnham, in the county of bucks, according to ye laws. and they are assigned to pass forthwith from parish to parish by ye officers thereof the next direct way to the parish of st. [se]pulchers, lond., where they say they last inhabited three years. and they are limited to be at st. [se]pulch within ten days next ensuing. given under our hands and seals, will. glover, vicar of burnham, and john hunt, constable of boveney." in some instances we gather from the entries in the parish registers, after punishing the vagrants in their own parish, the authorities recommended them to the tender mercy of other persons in whose hands they might fall. at durham, in the year , a married woman named eleanor wilson, was publicly whipped in the market-place, between the hours of eleven and twelve o'clock, for being drunk on sunday, april th. insane persons did not escape the lash. in the constable's accounts of great staughtan, huntingdonshire, is an item: - . pd. in charges taking up a distracted woman, watching her, and whipping her next day a still more remarkable charge is the following in the same accounts: - . pd. thomas hawkins for whipping people yt had small-pox in , we gather from the _public ledger_ that a woman, who is described as "an old offender," was conveyed in a cart from clerkenwell bridewell to enfield, and publicly whipped at the cart's tail by the common hangman, for cutting down and destroying wood in enfield chase. she had to undergo the punishment three times. persons obtaining goods under false pretences were frequently flogged. in , at nottingham, a young woman, aged nineteen, was found guilty of this crime, and was, by order of the court of quarter sessions, stripped to the waist and publicly whipped on market-day in the market-place. in the following year, a female found guilty of stealing a handkerchief from a draper's shop, was tied to the tail of a cart and whipped from weekday-cross to the malt-cross. it was at nottingham, a few years prior to this time, that a soldier was severely punished for drinking the pretender's health. the particulars are briefly told as follows in _adams's weekly courant_ for wednesday, july th, to wednesday, july th, : "friday last, a dragoon, belonging to lord cadogan's regiment, at nottingham, received lashes, and was to receive more at derby, and to be drum'd out of the regiment with halter about his neck, for drinking the pretender's health." whipping at wakefield appears to have been a common punishment. payments like the following frequently occur in the constable's accounts: , may , assistance at whiping men july , " " " aug. , " " " sept. , " " " a fire occurred at olney in , and during the confusion a man stole some ironwork. the crime was detected, and the man was tried and sentenced to be whipped at the cart's tail. cowper, the poet, was an eye-witness to the carrying out of the sentence, and in a letter to the rev. john newton gives an amusing account of it. "the fellow," wrote cowper, "seemed to show great fortitude; but it was all an imposition. the beadle who whipped him had his left hand filled with red ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew the lash of the whip, leaving the appearance of a wound upon the skin, but in reality not hurting him at all. this being perceived by the constable, who followed the beadle to see that he did his duty, he (the constable) applied the cane, without any such management or precaution, to the shoulders of the beadle. the scene now became interesting and exciting. the beadle could by no means be induced to strike the thief hard, which provoked the constable to strike harder; and so the double flogging continued, until a lass of silver end, pitying the pityful beadle, thus suffering under the hands of the pityless constable, joined the procession, and placing herself immediately behind the constable, seized him by his capillary club, and pulling him backward by the same, slapped his face with amazonian fury. this concentration of events has taken up more of my paper than i intended, but i could not forbear to inform you how the beadle thrashed the thief, the constable the beadle, and the lady the constable, and how the thief was the only person who suffered nothing." it will be gathered from the foregoing letter that the severity of the whipping depended greatly on the caprice of the man who administered it. a statute, in , expressly forbade the whipping of female vagrants. this was certainly a much needed reform. mr. samuel carter hall, born in the year , in his interesting book entitled "retrospect of a long life" ( ), relates that more than once he saw the cruel punishment inflicted. on the th of may, , a man was whipped through the streets of glasgow by the hangman for taking part in a riot. he was the last person to undergo public whipping at the cart's tail in glasgow. at coleshill are standing a whipping-post, pillory and stocks, and as might be expected they attract a good deal of attention from the visitors to this quiet midland town. several writers have stated that this is the only whipping-post remaining in this country; this is, however, a mistake, as we have shown in the present chapter. we have not been able to discover when last used. our illustration is from a carefully executed drawing made some years ago. [illustration: coleshill pillory, whipping-post, and stocks.] the old town of kirton-in-lindsey, lincolnshire, in bygone times was a place of importance, and amongst the names of those who have held its manor is that of piers gaveston, the favourite of edward ii. near the modern police station is a post on which are irons, enabling it to be used as a whipping-post and stocks. no references relating to it can be found in the local old-time accounts or other documents. old folk say that in years agone people were detained at the post by means of the irons, but no instances are remembered of a whip being employed. it was formerly the custom in london and other places, at the time of executions, for parents to whip their children, so as to impress upon their minds the awful lessons of the gallows. executions were very often occurring, for people were hanged for trifling offences. down to the year , the crime of stealing from the person above the value of a shilling was punishable with death. children must have had a hard time of it, and been frequently flogged. [illustration: whipping-post, kirton-in-lindsey.] whipping servants was a common practice in the olden time. pepys and other old writers make note of it. the well-known "diary of a lady of quality" contains some interesting glimpses of old days and ways. under date of january th, , lady francis pennoyer, of bullingham court, herefordshire, refers to one of her maids speaking in the housekeeper's room about a matter that was not to the credit of the family. my lady felt that there was truth in what the girl said, but it was not in her place to speak, and her ladyship resolved to make her know and keep her place. "she hath a pretty face," says the diarist, "and should not be too ready to speak ill of those above her in station. i should be very sorry to turn her adrift upon the world, and she hath but a poor home. sent for her to my room, and gave her choice, either to be well whipped, or to leave the house instantly. she chose wisely, i think, and, with many tears, said i might do what i liked. i bade her attend my chamber to-morrow at twelve." next day her ladyship writes in her diary: "dearlove, my maid, came to my room, as i bade her. i bade her fetch the rod from what was my mother-in-law's rod-closet, and kneel and ask pardon, which she did with tears. i made her prepare, and i whipped her well. the girl's flesh is plump and firm, and she is a cleanly person--such a one, not excepting my own daughters, who are thin, and one of them, charlotte, rather sallow, as i have not whipped for a long time. she hath never been whipped before, she says, since she was a child (what can her mother and late lady have been about, i wonder?), and she cried out a great deal." children and servants appear to have been frequently flogged at bullingham court, both by its lord and lady. in other homes similar practices prevailed. [illustration: "the tutor's assistant" (_by george cruikshank_)] public penance. church discipline in the olden days caused the highest and lowest in the land to perform penance in public. a notable instance of a king subjecting himself to this humiliating form of punishment is that of henry ii. the story of the king's quarrels with becket, and of his unfortunate expression which led four knights to enact a tragic deed in canterbury cathedral, is familiar to the reader of history. after the foul murder of becket had been committed, the king was in great distress, and resolved to do penance at the grave of the murdered archbishop. mounted on his horse, he rode to canterbury, and on coming in sight of the cathedral, he dismounted, and walked barefooted to becket's shrine. he spent the day in prayer and fasting, and at night watched the relics of the saint. he next, in presence of the monks, disrobed himself, and presented his bare shoulders for them to lash. at canossa, in the winter of , was performed a most degrading act of penance by emperor henry iv. of germany. he had been excommunicated by pope gregory vii., and had suffered much on that account. he resolved to see the pope, and, if possible, obtain absolution. the emperor made a long and toilsome journey in the cold, in company with his loving wife bertha, his infant son, and only one knight. the pope refused to see the emperor until he had humbled himself at the gates of the castle. "on a dreary winter morning," say baring-gould and gilman, in their "history of germany," "with the ground deep in snow, the king, the heir of a line of emperors, was forced to lay aside every mark of royalty, was clad in the thin white dress of the penitent, and there fasting, he awaited the pleasure of the pope in the castle yard. but the gates did not unclose. a second day he stood, cold, hungry, and mocked by vain hope." on the close of the third day, we are told that he was received and pardoned by the pope. the romantic story of eleanor cobham, first mistress and afterwards wife of humphrey, duke of gloucester, is one of considerable interest in illustrating the strange beliefs of the olden times. the duchess was tried in the year , for treason and witchcraft. it transpired that two of her accomplices had made, by her direction, a waxen image of the reigning monarch, henry vi. they had placed it before a slow fire, believing that the king's life would waste away as the figure did. in the event of henry's death, the duke of gloucester, as the nearest heir to the house of lancaster, would have been crowned king. on the th november, sentence was pronounced upon the duchess: it was to the effect that she perform public penance in three open places in london, and end her days in prison in the isle of man. the manner of her doing penance was as follows: "on monday, the th, she came by water from westminster, and landing at temple bridge, walked at noon-day through fleet street, bearing a waxen taper of two pounds weight, to st. paul's, where she offered it at the high altar. on the wednesday following, she landed at the old swan, and passed through bride street, gracechurch street, and to leadenhall, and at cree church, near aldgate, made her second offering. on the ensuing friday she was put on shore at queenhithe, whence she proceeded to st. michael's church, cornhill, and so completed her penance. in each of these processions her head was covered only by a kerchief; her feet were bare; scrolls, containing a narrative of her crime, were affixed to her white dress; and she was received and attended by the mayor, sheriff, and companies of london." the historian, biographer, poet, playwright, and story-teller have all related details of the career of jane shore. a sad tale it is, but one which has always been popular both with gentle and simple. it is not necessary to relate here at length the story of her life. she was born in london, was a woman of considerable personal charms, and could do what few ladies of her time were able to accomplish--namely, read well and write. when some sixteen or seventeen years of age, she married william shore, a goldsmith and banker, of lombard street. she lived with her husband seven years, but about , left him to become one of the mistresses of edward iv. her beauty, wit, and pleasant behaviour rendered her popular at court. the king died in , and within two months she was charged by richard iii. with sorcery and witchcraft, but the charges could not be sustained. her property, equal to about £ , at the present time, was taken from her by the king. he afterwards caused her to be brought before the ecclesiastical court and tried for incontinence, and for the crime she had to do penance in the streets of london. perhaps we cannot do better than quote rowe's drama to relate this part of her story: submissive, sad, and lonely was her look; a burning taper in her hand she bore; and on her shoulders, carelessly confused, with loose neglect her lovely tresses hung; upon her cheek a faintish flush was spread; feeble she seemed, and sorely smit with pain; while, barefoot as she trod the flinty pavement, her footsteps all along were marked with blood. yet silent still she passed, and unrepining; her streaming eyes bent ever on the earth, except when, in some bitter pang of sorrow, to heaven, she seemed, in fervent zeal to raise, and beg that mercy man denied her here. we need not go into details respecting her life from this time, but briefly state that it is a popular error to suppose that she was starved in a ditch, and that the circumstance gave rise to the name of a part of london known as shoreditch. the black-letter ballad in the pepys collection, which makes jane shore die of hunger after doing penance, and a man suffer death on the gallows for giving her bread, is without foundation. she died about or , when she was upwards of eighty years of age. it is asserted that she strewed flowers at the funeral of henry vii. a curious act of penance was performed in hull, in the year , by the vicar of north cave. he appears to have made a study of the works of the reformers who had settled in antwerp, and sent over their books to england. in a sermon preached in the holy trinity church, hull, he advocated their teaching, and for this he was tried for heresy and convicted. he recanted, and, as an act of penance, one sunday walked round the church barefooted, with only his shirt on, and carrying a large faggot in his hand to represent the punishment he deserved. on the next market-day, in a similar manner, he walked round the market-place of the town. in the year , a man named cuthbert pearson foster, residing in the parish of st. nicholas, durham, was brought before the ecclesiastical court, charged with "playing at nine-holes upon the sabbath day in time of divine service," and was condemned to stand once in the parish church during service, clad in a white sheet. in the following year, the four churchwardens--rowland swinburn, william harp, richard surtees, and cuthbert dixon, men esteemed in durham, and holding good positions--were found guilty and admonished for a serious breach of duty, "for not searching who was absent from the church on the sabbath and festive days, for it is credibly reported that drinking, banqueting, and playing at cards, and other lawless games, are used in their parish in alehouses, and they never made search thereof." of persons in the humble ranks of life who have performed public penance in white sheets in churches, for unchastity, there are numerous entries in parish registers. for immorality, prior to marriage, man and wife were sometimes obliged to do penance. the rev. dr. j. charles cox found particulars of a case of this kind recorded in the wooley mss., in the british museum, where a married couple, in the reign of james i., performed penance in wirksworth church. in parish registers are records like the following, drawn from the roxby (lincolnshire) parish register: "memorandum.--michael kirby and dixon, wid. had bastard children, one in , ye other in , for which they did publick pennance in our p'ish church." "michael kirby and anne dixon, both together did publick penance in our parish churche, feb. ye th, , for adultery." a memorandum in the parish register of north aston, oxfordshire, states: "that mr. cooper sent in a form of penance by mr. wakefield, of deddington, that catherine king should do penance in ye parish church of north aston, ye sixth day of march, , and accordingly she did. witness, will vaughan, charles may, john baillis, churchwardens." we learn from the same records that another person, who had become a mother before she was made a wife, left the parish to avoid doing public penance. in the old churchwardens' accounts of wakefield, are several items bearing on this subject, and amongst the number are the following: £ s. d. .--to jos. green for black bess penanc sheet .--allowed the parish churchwardens for goeing to leeds with ye man and woman to doe penance .--june . paid jno. briggs for the lent of sheets for persons to do pennance .--nov. . paid for the loan of two white sheets .--oct. . pd. for the loan of sheets for penances .--nov. . pd. for a sheet that ---- had to do penance in .--sep. . pd. for two sheets ye women did penans in .--oct. . pd. for a sheet for stringer to do penance in .--june . pd. for a sheet for eliza redhead penance .--dec. . to priestly for a sheet & attending a woman's penance "on february th, ," says mr. john w. walker, "william hepworth, a shoemaker, did penance in the parish church for defaming the character of an old woman named elizabeth blacketer. they both lived in cock and swan yard, westgate, and the suit was carried on by one george robinson, an attorney, out of spite to the cobbler." "on sunday, august th, , a penance was performed in the parish church, by sentence of the ecclesiastical court, on a person who had defamed the character of a lady in wakefield. a recantation was repeated by the penitent after the vicar, and then signed by the interested parties."[ ] the historian of cleveland, mr. george markham tweddell, furnishes us with a copy of a document enjoining penance to be performed in , by james beadnell, of stokesley, in the diocese of york, tailor: "the said james beadnell shall be present in the parish church of stokesley, aforesaid, upon sunday, being the fifth, twelfth, and nineteenth day of january instant, in the time of divine service, between the hours of ten and eleven in the forenoon of the same day, in the presence of the whole congregation then assembled, being barehead, barefoot, and barelegged, having a white sheet wrapped about him from the shoulder to the feet, and a white wand in his hand, where, immediately after the reading of the gospel, he shall stand upon some form or seat, before the pulpit or place where the minister readeth prayers, and say after him as forthwith: 'whereas, i, good people, forgetting my duty to almighty god, have committed the detestable sin of adultery with ann andrewes, and thereby have provoked the heavy wrath of god against me to the great danger of my soul and evil example of others. i do earnestly repent, and am heartily sorry for the same, desiring almighty god, for the merits of jesus christ, to forgive me both this and all other my offences, and also ever hereafter so to assist me with his holy spirit, that i never fall into the like offence again; and for that end and purpose, i desire you all here present to pray for me, saying, "our father, which art in heaven," and so forth.'" towards the close of the last century, it was the practice of women doing penance at poulton church, lancashire, to pass along the aisles barefooted, clothed in a white sheet, and having in each hand a lighted candle. the last time the ceremony was performed, we are told, the cries of the poor girl melted the heart of the people, and the well-disposed raised a clamour against it, and caused the practice to be discontinued. the rev. thomas jackson, the popular wesleyan minister, was born at sancton, a village on the yorkshire wolds, in . writing of his earlier years spent in his native village, he describes two cases of public penance which he witnessed. "a farmer's son," says mr. jackson, "the father of an illegitimate child, came into church at the time of divine service, on the lord's day, covered with a sheet, having a white wand in his hand; he walked barefoot up the aisle, stood over against the desk where the prayers were read, and then repeated a confession at the dictation of the clergyman; after which he walked out of the church. the other case was that of a young woman, 'who bore unhusbanded a mother's name.' she also came into the church barefoot, covered with a sheet, bearing a white wand, and went through the same ceremony. she had one advantage which the young man had not. her long hair so completely covered her face that not a feature could be seen. in a large town, few persons would have known who she was, but in a small village every one is known, and no public delinquent can escape observation, and the censure of busy tongues. these appear to have been the last cases of the kind that occurred at sancton. the sin was perpetuated, but the penalty ceased; my father observed that the rich offenders evaded the law, and then the authorities could not for shame continue to inflict its penalty upon the labouring classes."[ ] in the month of april, , penance was performed at ditton church, cambridgeshire. the church of east clevedon, somersetshire, on july th, , was the scene of a man performing penance in public, and the act attracted much attention in the newspapers of the time. footnotes: [ ] walker's "history of wakefield cathedral." [ ] rev. thomas jackson's "recollections of my own life and times," . the repentance stool. the records of church-life in scotland, in bygone times, contain many allusions to the repentance stool. a very good specimen of this old-time relic may be seen in the museum of the society of antiquaries, at edinburgh. it is from the church of old greyfriars, of edinburgh. in the same museum is a sackcloth, or gown of repentance, formerly used at the parish church of west calder. persons guilty of adultery were frequently placed on the repentance stool, and rebuked before the congregation assembled for public worship. the ordeal was a most trying one. severe laws have been passed in scotland to check adultery. "in the first book of discipline," says the rev. charles rogers, ll.d., "the reformers demanded that adulterers should be put to death. their desire was not fully complied with, but in parliament enacted that 'notour adulterers'--meaning those of whose illicit connection a child had been born--should be executed." dr. rogers and other authorities assert that the penalty was occasionally inflicted. [illustration: repentance stool, from old greyfriars, edinburgh.] paul methven, minister at jedburgh, in the year , admitted that he had been guilty of adultery. the general assembly conferred with the lords of the council respecting his conduct. three years later, we are told, that he was "permitted to prostrate himself on the floor of the assembly, and with weeping and howling to entreat for pardon." his sentence was as follows: "that in edinburgh, as the capital, in dundee, as his native town, and in jedburgh, the scene of his ministrations, he should stand in sackcloth at the church door, also on the repentance stool, and for two sundays in each place." a man, on his own confession, was tried for adultery at the presbytery of paisley, on november th, , and directed to "stand and abyde six sabbaths barefooted and barelegged at the kirk-door of paisley between the second and third bell-ringing, and thereafter to goe to the place of public repentance during the said space of six sabbaths." at stow, in , for a similar crime, a man was condemned to "sittin' eighteen dyetts" upon the stool of repentance. particulars of many cases similar to the foregoing may be found in the pages of "social life in scotland," by the rev. charles rogers, in "old church life in scotland," by the rev. andrew edgar, and in other works. notes bearing on this subject sometimes find their way into the newspapers, and a couple of paragraphs from the _liverpool mercury_ may be quoted. on november th, , it was stated that "in a church in the black isle, ross-shire, on a recent sunday, a woman who had been guilty of transgressing the seventh commandment was condemned to the 'cutty-stool,' and sat during the whole service with a black shawl thrown over her head." a note in the issue for nd february, , says that "one of the ringleaders in the sabbatarian riots at strome ferry, in june last, was recently publicly rebuked and admonished on the 'cutty-stool,' in the free church, lochcarron, for an offence against the moral code, which, according to free church discipline in the highlands, could not be expiated in any other way." the ducking-stool. scolding women in the olden times were treated as offenders against the public peace, and for their transgressions were subjected to several cruel modes of punishment. the corporations of towns during the middle ages made their own regulations for punishing persons guilty of crimes which were not rendered penal by the laws of the land. the punishments for correcting scolds differed greatly in various parts of the country. it is clear, from a careful study of the history of mediæval times, that virtue and amiability amongst the middle and lower classes, generally speaking, did not prevail. the free use of the tongue gave rise to riots and feuds to an extent which it is difficult for us to realise at the present day. a strong feeling against scolding women came down to a late period. readers of boswell's "life of johnson" will remember how the doctor, in reply to a remark made by a celebrated quaker lady, mrs. knowles, observed: "madam, we have different modes of restraining evil--stocks for men, a ducking-stool for women, and a pound for beasts." the cucking-stool in the early history of england must not be confounded with the ducking-stool. they were two distinct machines. it appears, from a record in the "domesday book," that as far back as the days of edward the confessor, any man or woman detected giving false measure in the city of chester was fined four shillings; and for brewing bad ale, was placed in the _cathedra stercoris_. it was a degrading mode of chastisement, the culprits being seated in the chair at their own doors or in some public place. at leicester, in , the local authorities directed "scolds to be punished by the mayor on a cuck-stool before their own doors, and then carried to the four gates of the town." according to borlase's "natural history of cornwall," in that part of the country the cucking-stool was used "as a seat of infamy, where strumpets and scolds, with bare feet and head, were condemned to abide the derision of those that passed by, for such time as the bailiffs of the manors, which had the privilege of such jurisdiction, did approve." ale-wives in scotland in bygone times who sold bad ale were placed in the cucking-stool. in the year , we learn from thomas wright that "it was enacted by the queen-regent of scotland that itinerant singing women should be put on the cuck-stoles of every burgh or town; and the first 'homily against contention,' part , published in , sets forth that 'in all well-ordered cities common brawlers and scolders be punished with a notable kind of paine, as to be _set on_ the cucking-stole, pillory, or such-like.' by the statute of henry viii., carders and spinners of wool who were convicted of fraudulent practices were to be _sett upon_ the pillory or the cukkyng-stole, man or woman, as the case shall require." we agree with mr. wright when he observes that the preceding passages are worded in such a manner as not to lead us to suppose that the offenders were ducked. in the course of time the terms cucking and ducking stools became synonymous, and implied the machines for the ducking of scolds in water. in some places the term thewe was used for a cucking-stool. this was the case at hedon, and it occurs in pleadings at chester before the itinerant justices and henry vii., when george grey, earl of kent, claims the right in his manor of bushton and ayton of punishing brawlers by the thewe.[ ] other instances of its use might be cited. an intelligent frenchman, named misson, visited england about , and has left on record one of the best descriptions of a ducking-stool that has been written. it occurs in a work entitled "travels in england." "the way of punishing scolding women," he writes, "is pleasant enough. they fasten an arm chair to the end of two beams, twelve or fifteen feet long, and parallel to each other, so that these two pieces of wood, with their two ends, embrace the chair, which hangs between them upon a sort of axle, by which means it plays freely, and always remains in the natural horizontal position in which the chair should be, that a person may sit conveniently in it, whether you raise it or let it down. they set up a post on the bank of a pond or river, and over this post they lay, almost in equilibrio, the two pieces of wood, at one end of which the chair hangs just over the water. they place the woman in this chair, and so plunge her into the water, as often as the sentence directs, in order to cool her immoderate heat." in some instances the ducking was carried to such an extent as to cause death. an old chap-book, without date, is entitled, "strange and wonderful relation of the old woman who was drowned at ratcliff highway a fortnight ago." it appears from this work that the poor woman was dipped too often, for at the conclusion of the operation she was found to be dead. we reproduce from this quaint chap-book a picture of the ducking-stool. it will be observed that it is not a stationary machine, but one which can be wheeled to and from the water. similar ducking-stools were usually kept in some convenient building, and ready to be brought out for immediate use, but in many places the ducking-stools were permanent fixtures. [illustration: ducking-stool from a chap-book.] old municipal accounts and records contain many references to this subject. cole, a cambridge antiquary, collected numerous curious items connected with this theme. in some extracts made from the proceedings of the vice-chancellor's court, in the reign of elizabeth, it is stated: "jane johnson, adjudged to the ducking-stool for scolding, and commuted her penance." the next person does not appear to have been so fortunate as jane johnson, who avoided punishment by paying a fine of about five shillings. it is recorded: "katherine saunders, accused by the churchwardens of saint andrews for a common scold and slanderer of her neighbours, was adjudged to the ducking-stool." we find in one of cole's manuscript volumes, preserved in the british museum, a graphic sketch of this ancient mode of punishment. he says: "in my time, when i was a boy, i lived with my grandmother in the great corner house at the foot, 'neath the magdalen college, cambridge, and rebuilt since by my uncle, joseph cook. i remember to have seen a woman ducked for scolding. the chair was hung by a pulley fastened to a beam about the middle of the bridge, in which [he means the chair, of course, not the bridge] the woman was confined, and let down three times, and then taken out. the bridge was then of timber, before the present stone bridge of one arch was built. the ducking-stool was constantly hanging in its place, and on the back of it were engraved devils laying hold of scolds, etc. some time afterwards a new chair was erected in the place of the old one, having the same devices carved upon it, and well painted and ornamented. when the new bridge of stone was erected, in , this chair was taken away, and i lately saw the carved and gilt back of it nailed up by the shop of one mr. jackson, a whitesmith, in the butcher's row, behind the town hall, who offered it to me, but i did not know what to do with it. in october, , i saw in the old town hall a third ducking-stool, of plain oak, with an iron bar in front of it, to confine the person in the seat, but i made no inquiries about it. i mention these things as the practice of ducking scolds in the river seems now to be totally laid aside." mr. cole died in , so did not long survive the writing of the foregoing curious notes. the sandwich ducking-stool was embellished with men and women scolding. on the cross-bar were carved the following words: "of members ye tonge is worst or best,--an yll tonge oft doeth breede unrest." boys, in his "collections for the history of sandwich," published in , remarks that the ducking-stool was preserved in the second storey of the town hall, along with the arms, offensive and defensive, of the trained bands. boys's book includes some important information on old-time punishments. in the year , it is recorded that two women were banished from sandwich for immorality. to deter them from coming back to the town, it was decided that "if they return, one of them is to suffer the pain of sitting over the coqueen-stool, and the other is to be set three days in the stocks, with an allowance of only bread and water, and afterwards to be placed in the coqueen-stool and dipped to the chin." a woman, in the year , was "carted and banished." at sandwich, ipswich, and some other places, as a punishment for scolding and other offences it was not an uncommon thing to compel the transgressors to carry a wooden mortar round the town. [illustration: sandwich ducking-stool.] respecting the cost of erecting a ducking-stool, we find a curious and detailed account in the parish books of southam, warwickshire, for the year . in the first place, a man was sent from southam to daventry to make a drawing of the ducking-stool of that town, at a cost of three shillings and twopence. the sum of one pound one shilling and eightpence is charged for labour and material in making and fixing the engine of punishment. an entry of ten shillings is made for painting it, which appears a rather heavy amount when we observe that the carpenter only charged a little over a pound for labour and timber. perhaps, like the good folk of sandwich, the authorities of southam had their chair ornamented with artistic portraits and enriched with poetic quotations. the blacksmith had to furnish ironwork, etc., at a cost of four shillings and sixpence. for carrying the stool to its proper place half-a-crown was paid. lastly, nine shillings and sixpence had to be expended to make the pond deeper, so that the ducking-stool might work in a satisfactory manner. the total amount reached £ s. d. at coventry, in the same county, we find traces of two ducking-stools, and respecting them mr. w. g. fretton, f.s.a., supplies us with some curious details. the following notes are drawn from the leet book, under date of october th, : "whereas there are divers and sundrie disordered persons (women) within this citie that be scolds, brawlers, disturbers, and disquieters of theire neighbors, to the great offence of almightie god and the breach of her majestie's peace: for the reformation of such abuses, it is ordered and enacted at this leet, that if any disordered and disquiet persons of this citie do from henceforth scold or brawle with their neighbo'rs or others, upon complaint thereof to the alderman of the ward made, or to the maior for the time being, they shall be committed to the cooke-stoole lately appointed for the punishment of such offenders, and thereupon be punished for their deserts, except they or everie of them, do presentlie paie iijs iijd for their redemption from that punishment to the use of the poore of this citie." the old accounts of the city of coventry contain numerous items bearing on the ducking-stool. in a volume of "miscellaneous poems," by benjamin west, of weedon beck, northamptonshire, published in , we find some lines entitled, "the ducking-stool," which run: "there stands, my friend, in yonder pool, an engine called the ducking-stool, by legal pow'r commanded down, the joy and terror of the town, if jarring females kindle strife, give language foul or lug the coif; if noisy dames should once begin to drive the house with horrid din, away, you cry, you'll grace the stool, we'll teach you how your tongue to rule. the fair offender fills the seat, in sullen pomp, profoundly great. down in the deep the stool descends, but here, at first, we miss our ends; she mounts again, and rages more than ever vixen did before. so, throwing water on the fire will make it but burn up the higher; if so, my friend, pray let her take a second turn into the lake, and, rather than your patience lose, thrice and again repeat the dose. no brawling wives, no furious wenches, no fire so hot, but water quenches. in prior's skilful lines we see for these another recipe: a certain lady, we are told (a lady, too, and yet a scold), was very much reliev'd, you'll say by water, yet a different way; a mouthful of the same she'd take, sure not to scold, if not to speak." a footnote to the poem states: "to the honour of the fair sex in the neighbourhood of r----y, this machine has been taken down (as useless) several years." most probably, says mr. jewitt, the foregoing refers to rugby. in the old accounts of that town several items occur, as for example: . june . paid for a lock for ye ducking-stool, and spent in towne business s. d. . sept. . ducking-stool repaired. and dec. , . a chain for ducking-stool s. d. mr. petty, f.s.a., in a note to mr. jewitt, which is inserted in _the reliquary_ for january, , states that the rugby ducking-stool "was placed on the west side of the horsepool, near the footpath leading from the clifton road towards the new churchyard. part of the posts to which it was affixed were visible until very lately, and the national school is now erected on its site. the last person who underwent the punishment was a man for beating his wife about forty years since; but although the ducking-stool has been long removed, the ceremony of immersion in the horse-pond was recently inflicted on an inhabitant for brutality towards his wife." the rugby ducking-stool was of the trebuchet form, somewhat similar to one which was in use at broadwater, near worthing, and which has been frequently engraved. we reproduce an illustration of the latter from the _wiltshire archæological magazine_, which represents it as it appeared in the year . it was in existence at a much later period. its construction was very simple, consisting of a short post let into the ground at the edge of a pond, bearing on the top a transverse beam, one end of which carried the stool, while the other end was secured by a rude chair. we are told, in an old description of this ducking-stool, that the beam could be moved horizontally, so as to bring the seat to the edge of the pond, and that when the beam was moved back, so as to place the seat and the person in it over the pond, the beam was worked up and down like a see-saw, and so the person in the seat was ducked. when the machine was not in use, the end of the beam which came on land was secured to a stump in the ground by a padlock, to prevent the village children from ducking each other. [illustration: ducking-stool, broadwater, near worthing.] mr. t. tindall wildridge, author of several important local historical works, says that the great profligacy of hull frequently gave rise in olden times to very stringent exercise of the magisterial authority. not infrequently this was at the direct instigation and sometimes command of the archbishop of york. occasionally the cognisance of offences was retrospective. thus, in november, , it was resolved by the bench of magistrates, then composed of the aldermen of the town, that such as had been "faltie for bastardes" should be carted about the town and afterwards "ducked in the water for their faults, for which they have hitherto escaped punishment." at a little later period, in england, in the days of the commonwealth, it was enacted on may th, , that adultery should be punished with death, but there is not any record of the law taking effect. the act was repealed at the restoration. about a century before this period, namely, in , in the scottish parliament, this crime was made a capital offence. in new england, in the year , several men and women suffered for this crime. resuming our notes on the hull ducking-stool, we find, according to hadley, the historian, that in the year mr. beilby, who held the office of town's husband, was ordered to take care that a ducking-stool should be provided at the south-end for the benefit of scolds and unquiet women. six years later, john hilbert published a view of the town of hull, in which there is a representation of the ducking-stool. mr. wildridge has found traces of another local ducking-stool. he states that in some accounts belonging to the eighteenth century there is a charge for tarring a ducking-stool situated on the haven-side, on the east side of the town. at the neighbouring town of beverley are traces of this old mode of punishment, and in the town records are several notes bearing on the subject. brewers of bad beer and bakers of bad bread, as well as scolding women, were placed in the ducking-stool. the leeds ducking-stool was at quarry hill, near the spa. at the court of quarter sessions, held in the town in july, , it was "ordered that anne, the wife of phillip saul, a person of lewd behaviour, be ducked for daily making strife and discord amongst her neighbours." a similar order was made against jane milner and elizabeth wooler. we find in the session records of wakefield, for , the following: "punishm^t of hall and robinson, scolds: fforasmuch as katherine hall and m'garet robinson, of wakefield, are great disturbers and disquieters of their neighbours w'thin the toune of wakefield, by reason of their daily scolding and chydering, the one w'th the other, for reformacon whereof ytt it is ordered that if they doe hereafter continue their former course of life in scolding and brawling, that then john mawde, the high constable there, shall cause them to be soundlye ducked or cucked on the cuckstool at wakefield for said misdemeanour." in the records of wakefield sessions, under date of october th, , the following appears: "forasmuch as jane, the wife of william farrett of selby, shoemaker, stands indicted at this sessions for a common scold, to the great annoyance and disturbance of her neighbours, and breach of his majesty's peace. it is therefore ordered that the said jane farrett, for the said offence be openly ducked, and ducked three times over the head and ears by the constables of selby aforesaid, for which this shall be their warrant." at bradford, the ducking-stool was formerly at the beck, near to the parish church, and on the formation of the canal it was removed, but only a short distance from its original position. still lingering in the west riding of yorkshire, we find in the parish accounts of east ardsley, a village near to wakefield, the following item: - . paid john crookes for repairing stool s. d. norrisson scatcherd, in his "history of morley," and william smith, in his "morley ancient and modern," give interesting details of the ducking-stool at morley. not far distant from morley is calverley, and in the constable's accounts of the village it is stated: . paid jeremy booth for powl for ducking-stool s. mr. joseph wilkinson, the historian of worsborough, near barnsley, mentions two ducking-ponds in the township--one in the village of worsborough, another near to the birdwell toll-bar; and, judging from the frequency with which ducking-stools were repaired by the township, it would seem they were often brought into requisition. the following extracts are drawn from the parish accounts: . for mending ye cuck-stool £ . ducking-stool mending . for mending and hanging ye cuck-stool . pd. thos. moorhouse for mending ye stocks and cuck-stool " pd. jno. south for staples for ye cucking-stool . thos. moorhouse for mending ye ducking-stool - . to ye ducking-stool mending . for mending ye ducking-stool . john ellot, for ye ducking-stool and sheep-fold door mr. w. h. dawson, the historian of skipton, has devoted considerable attention to the old-time punishments of the town, and the first reference he was able to discover amongst the old accounts of the township is the following: . october nd. to wm. bell, for ducking-stool making and wood s. d. "this must," says mr. dawson, "surely mean that the chair was changed, for the amount is too small for the entire apparatus. in this case a ducking-stool must have existed before , which is very likely." in the same skipton township account-book is an entry as follows: . october. ben smith for ducking-stool s. d. twenty-five years later we find a payment as follows: . october th. paid john brown for new ducking-stool £ s. - / d. mr. dawson has not been able to discover the exact date when the ducking-stool fell into disuse, but has good reason for believing that it was about . we gather from a note sent to us by mr. dawson that: "a ducking-pond existed at kirkby, although it had not been used within the memory of any living person. scolds of both sexes were punished by being ducked; indeed, in the last observance of the custom, a tailor and his wife were ducked together, in view of a large gathering of people. the husband had applied for his wife to undergo the punishment on account of her quarrelsome nature, but the magistrate decided that one was not better than the other, and he ordered a joint punishment! back to back, therefore, husband and wife were chaired and dipped into the cold water of the pond! whether it was in remembrance of this old observance or not cannot be definitely said, but it is nevertheless a fact that in east lancashire, in , a man who had committed some violation of morals was forcibly taken by a mob, and dragged several times through a pond until he had expressed penitence for his act." we have found several allusions to the derby ducking-stool. wooley, writing in , states that "over against the steeple [all saint's] is st. mary's gate, which leads down to the brook near the west side of st. werburgh's church, over which there is a bridge to mr. osborne's mill, over the pool of which stands the ducking-stool. a joiner named thomas timmins repaired it in , and charged as follows: "to ye cuckstool, the stoop foot and / of ioyce for a rayle ja. ford, junr., / day at cuckstool " the chesterfield ducking-stool was pulled down towards the close of the last century. it is stated that in the latter part of its existence it was chiefly used for punishing refractory paupers. the scarborough ducking-stool was formerly placed on the old pier, and was last used about the year , when a mrs. gamble was ducked. the chair is preserved in the museum of the scarborough philosophical society. we are indebted to dr. t. n. brushfield for an excellent drawing of it. [illustration: scarborough ducking-stool.] an object which attracts much attention from visitors to the interesting museum at ipswich is the ducking-stool of the town. we give a carefully executed drawing of it. it is described as a strong-backed arm-chair, with a wrought-iron rod, about an inch in diameter, fastened to each arm in front, meeting in a segment of a circle above; there is also another iron rod affixed to the back, which curves over the head of the person seated in the chair, and is connected with the other at the top, to the centre of which is fastened an iron ring for the purpose of slinging the machine into the river. it is plain and substantial, and has more the appearance of solidity than antiquity in its construction. we are told by the local historian that in the chamberlain's books are various entries for money paid to porters for taking down the ducking-stool and assisting in the operation of cooling, by its means, the inflammable passions of some of the female inhabitants of ipswich. we give a spirited sketch of the ipswich ducking-stool, from the pencil of campion, a local artist. it is worthy of the pencil of hogarth, gilray, or cruikshank; indeed, it is often said to be the production of the last-named artist, but though after his style it is not his work. [illustration: ipswich ducking-stool.] there are traces in the court-book of st. george's gild of the use of the ducking-stool at norwich. amongst other entries is one to the effect that in a scold was ducked three times. the ducking-stool at nottingham, in addition to being employed for correcting scolds, was used for the exposure of females of bad repute. "it consisted," says mr. j. potter briscoe, f.r.h.s., "of a hollow box, which was sufficiently large to admit of two persons being exposed at the same time. through holes in the side the heads of the culprits were placed. in fact, the nottingham cuck-stool was similar to a pillory. the last time this ancient instrument of punishment was brought into requisition was in , when the mayor (thomas trigge) caused a female to be placed in it for immorality, and left her to the mercy of the mob, who ducked her so severely that her death ensued shortly afterwards. the mayor, in consequence, was prosecuted, and the nottingham cuck-stool was ordered to be destroyed." in the nottinghamshire records are traces of the ducking-stool at southwell and retford. the example of the latter town is traced back to an unusually early period. [illustration: ipswich ducking-stool.] the old ducking-stool of king's lynn, norfolk, may now be seen in the museum of that town. the annals of the borough contain numerous allusions to the punishment of women. in the year , it is stated that for immoral conduct, john wanker's wife and widow parker were both carted. it is recorded that, in , "one elizabeth neivel stood in the pillory, and that one hannah clark was ducked for scolding." there is mention of a woman named howard standing in the pillory in , but no particulars are given of her crime. [illustration: ducking-stool, king's lynn.] in a note written for us in , by mr. r. n. worth, the historian of plymouth, we are told that in devon and cornwall the ducking-stool was the usual means employed for inflicting punishment on scolding women. at plymouth, the ducking-stool was erected at the barbican, a site full of historic interest. from here sir walter raleigh was conducted to his long imprisonment, followed by death on the scaffold. it was here that the pilgrim fathers bade adieu to the shores of their native land to establish a new england across the atlantic. as might be expected, the old municipal accounts of plymouth contain many curious and interesting items bearing on the punishment of women. mr. w. h. k. wright, editor of the _western antiquary_, tells us that as recently as the year the last person was ducked. at plymouth, at the present time, are preserved two ducking-chairs, one in the athenæum and the other in the office of the borough surveyor. mr. wright has kindly supplied illustrations of both. it will be observed that the chairs are made of iron. [illustration: plymouth ducking-stool.] the last time the bristol ducking-stool was used was, it is said, in the year . the mayor gave instructions for the ducking of scolds, and the immersions took place at the weir. [illustration: plymouth ducking-stool.] we have numerous accounts of this engine of punishment in lancashire. in the "manchester historical recorder" we find it stated, in the year : "manchester ducking-stool in use. it was an open-bottomed chair of wood, placed upon a long pole balanced on a pivot, and suspended over the collection of water called the pool house and pool fold. it was afterwards suspended over the daubholes (infirmary pond) and was used for the purpose of punishing scolds and prostitutes." we find, on examination of an old print, that it was similar to the example at broadwater, of which we give a sketch. according to mr. richard brooke's "liverpool from to ," the ducking-stool was in use in , by the authority of the magistrates. we have details of the ducking-stool at preston, kirkham, burnley and other lancashire towns. at wootton bassett there was a tumbrel, which, until within the last few years, was perfect. the chair is still preserved by the corporation of that town. we give a drawing of it from the _wiltshire archæological and natural history magazine_. it will be seen from the picture that the machine, when complete, consisted of a chair, a pair of wheels, two long poles forming shafts, and a rope attached to each shaft, at about a foot from the end. the person to be ducked was tied in the chair, and the machine pushed into a pond called the weirpond, and the shafts being let go, the scold was lifted backwards into the water, the shafts flying up, and being recovered again by means of the ropes attached to them. the chair is of oak, and bears the date of on the back. in some places, millers, if detected stealing corn, were placed in the tumbrel. [illustration: tumbrel at wootton bassett.] the wheels of a tumbrel are preserved in the old church of st. mary's, warwick, and the chair, it is said, is still in the possession of an inhabitant of the town. at kingston-upon-thames ducking was not infrequent. the chamberlain's accounts include many items relating to the subject. we are disposed to believe, from the mention of three wheels, in a payment made in , that here the engine of punishment was a tumbrel. the following amounts were paid in : the making of the cucking-stool s. d. iron work for the same s. d. timber for the same s. d. three brasses for the same, and three wheels s. d. ------------ £ s. d. in the _london evening post_, april th to th, , it is stated: "last week a woman who keeps the queen's head alehouse, at kingston, in surrey, was ordered by the court to be ducked for scolding, and was accordingly placed in the chair and ducked in the river thames, under kingston bridge, in the presence of to people." we have previously mentioned the fact that at leicester the cucking-stool was in use as early as , and from some valuable information brought together by mr. william kelly, f.s.a., and included in his important local works, we learn that the last entry he has traced in the old accounts of the town is the following: - . paid mr. elliott for a cuckstool by order of hall £ s. d. mr. kelly refers to the scolding cart at leicester, and describes the culprit as seated upon it, and being drawn through the town. he found in the old accounts in an item: paid to frauncis pallmer for making two wheels and one barr for the scolding cart ijs. scolding cart is another name for the tumbrel. the latest example of leicester cucking-stool is preserved in the local museum, and was placed there at the suggestion of mr. kelly. [illustration: leominster ducking-stool.] the leominster ducking-stool is one of the few examples still preserved. it was formerly kept in the parish church. we have an excellent drawing of it in that building from the pencil of the genial author of "verdant green," cuthbert bede. the rev. geo. fyler townsend, m.a., the erudite historian of leominster, furnishes us with some important information on this interesting relic of the olden time. he says that it is a machine of the simplest construction, "it consists merely of a strong narrow under framework, placed on four wheels, of solid wood, about four inches in thickness, and eighteen in diameter. at one end of this framework two upright posts, about three feet in height, strongly embedded in the platform, carry a long movable beam. each of the arms of this beam are of equal length ( feet), and balance perfectly from the top of the post. the culprit placed in the seat naturally weighs down that one end into the water, while the other is lifted up in the air; men, however, with ropes, caused the uplifted end to rise or fall, and thus obtain a perfect see-saw. the purchase of the machine is such that the culprit can be launched forth some to feet into the pond or stream, while the administrators of the ducking stand on dry land. this instrument was mentioned in the ancient documents of the borough by various names, as the cucking-stoole or timbrill, or gumstole." the latest recorded instance of the ducking-stool being used in england occurred at leominster. in , says mr. townsend, a woman, jenny pipes, alias jane corran, was paraded through the town on the ducking-stool, and actually ducked in the water near kenwater bridge, by order of the magistrates. an eye witness gave his testimony to the desert of the punishment inflicted on this occasion, in the fact that the first words of the culprit on being unfastened from the chair were oaths and curses on the magistrates. in , a woman named sarah leeke was wheeled round the town in the chair, but not ducked, as the water was too low. since this time, the use of the chair has been laid aside, and it is an object of curiosity, rather than of fear, to any of the spectators. during the recent restoration of leominster church, the ducking-stool was removed, repaired, and renovated by mr. john hungerford arkwright, and is now kept at the borough gaol of the historically interesting town of leominster. the early english settlers in the united states introduced many of the manners and customs of their native land. the ducking-stool was soon brought into use. mr. henry m. brooks, in his carefully written work, called "strange and curious punishments," published in , by ticknor & co., of boston, gives many important details respecting punishing scolds. at the present time, in some parts of america, scolding females are liable to be punished by means of the ducking-stool. we gather from a newspaper report that in , the grand jury of jersey city--across the hudson river from new york--caused a sensation by indicting mrs. mary brady as a "common scold." astonished lawyers hunted up their old books, and discovered that scolding is still an indictable offence in new jersey, and that the ducking-stool is still available as a punishment for it, not having been specifically abolished when the revised statutes were adopted. in delaware, the state next to the south of new jersey, the whipping-post is an institution, and prisoners are sentenced to suffer at it every week. the common scold law was brought from england to connecticut by the puritans and settlers, and from connecticut they carried it with them into new jersey, which is incorrectly considered a dutch state. in closing this chapter, we may state that a dalziel telegram from ottawa, published in the london newspapers of august th, , says that miss annie pope was yesterday charged before a police magistrate, under the provisions of an antiquated statute, for being a "common scold." she was committed for trial at the assizes, as the magistrate had no ducking-stool. footnotes: [ ] boyle's "hedon," . the brank, or scold's bridle. [illustration] the brank was an instrument employed by our forefathers for punishing scolds. it is also sometimes called the gossip's bridle, and in the macclesfield town records it is designated "a brydle for a curste queane." in the term "queane" we have the old english synonym for a woman; now the chief woman, the queen. the brank is not of such great antiquity as the ducking-stool, for the earliest mention of it we have been able to find in this country is in the corporation records of macclesfield, of the year . at an earlier period, we have traces of it in scotland. in glasgow burgh records, it is stated that in two scolds were condemned to be "branket." the kirk-session records of stirling for mention the "brankes" as a punishment for the shrew. it is generally believed that the punishment is of continental origin. the brank may be described simply as an iron framework which was placed on the head, enclosing it in a kind of cage; it had in front a plate of iron, which, either sharpened or covered with spikes, was so situated as to be placed in the mouth of the victim, and if she attempted to move her tongue in any way whatever, it was certain to be shockingly injured. with a brank on her head she was conducted through the streets, led by a chain, held by one of the town's officials, an object of contempt, and subjected to the jeers of the crowd and often left to their mercy. in some towns it was the custom to chain the culprit to the pillory, whipping-post, or market-cross. she thus suffered for telling her mind to some petty tyrant in office, or speaking plainly to a wrong-doer, or for taking to task a lazy, and perhaps a drunken husband. [illustration: brank in leeds philosophical museum.] in yorkshire, we have only seen two branks. we give a sketch of one formerly in possession of the late norrisson scatcherd, f.s.a., the historian of morley. it is now in the leeds philosophical museum, where it attracts considerable attention. it is one of the most simple and harmless examples that has come under our notice. amongst the relics of the olden time in the museum of the yorkshire philosophical society, york, is another specimen, equally simple in its construction. it was presented by lady thornton to the society in , and near it may be seen thumb-screws from york castle; leg bar, waist girdle, and wrist shackles, worn by the notorious highwayman, dick turpin, executed april th, ; and a leg bar, worn by another notorious highwayman, named nevison, who suffered death on the gallows, may th, . the brank which has received the greatest attention is the one preserved in the vestry of walton-on-thames parish church. it bears the date of , and the following couplet:-- "chester presents walton with a bridle to curb women's tongues that talk too idle." it is traditionally said that this brank was given to walton parish by a person named chester, who had, through a gossiping and lying woman of his acquaintance, lost an estate he expected to inherit from a rich relative. we are enabled to give an illustration of the walton brank. [illustration: brank at walton-on-thames.] dr. t. n. brushfield described in an exhaustive manner all the cheshire branks, in an able paper read before the architectural, archæological, and historic society of chester, and published in . we are unable to direct attention to all the branks noticed by dr. brushfield, but cannot refrain from presenting the following account of the one at congleton, which is preserved in the town hall of that ancient borough. "it was," we are informed, "formerly in the hands of the town jailor, whose services were not infrequently called into requisition. in the old-fashioned, half-timbered houses in the borough, there was generally fixed on one side of the large open fire-places a hook, so that, when a man's wife indulged her scolding propensities, the husband sent for the town jailor to bring the bridle, and had her bridled and chained to the hook until she promised to behave herself better for the future. i have seen one of these hooks, and have often heard husbands say to their wives: 'if you don't rest with your tongue i'll send for the bridle and hook you up.' the mayor and justices frequently brought the instrument into use; for when women were brought before them charged with street-brawling, and insulting the constables and others while in the discharge of their duty, they have ordered them to be bridled and led through the borough by the jailor. the last time this bridle was publicly used was in , when a woman was brought before the mayor (bulkeley johnson, esq.) one monday, charged with scolding and using harsh language to the churchwardens and constables as they went, on the sunday morning, round the town to see that all the public-houses were empty and closed during divine service. on examination, a mr. richard edwards stated on oath that on going round the town with the churchwardens on the previous day, they met the woman (ann runcorn) in a place near 'the cockshoot,' and that immediately seeing them she commenced a sally of abuse, calling them all the scoundrels and rogues she could lay her tongue to; and telling them 'it would look better of them if they would look after their own houses rather than go looking after other folk's, which were far better than their own.' after other abuse of a like character, they thought it only right to apprehend her, and so brought her before the bench on the following day. the mayor then delivered the following sentence: 'that it is the unanimous decision of the mayor and justices that the prisoner (ann runcorn) there and then have the town's bridle for scolding women put upon her, and that she be led by the magistrate's clerk's clerk through every street in the town, as an example to all scolding women; and that the mayor and magistrates were much obliged to the churchwardens for bringing the case before them.'" "in this case," mr. warrington, who furnished dr. brushfield with the foregoing information, adds: "i both heard the evidence and saw the decision carried out. the bridle was put on the woman, and she was then led through the town by one prosper haslam, the town clerk's clerk, accompanied by hundreds of the inhabitants; and on her return to the town hall the bridle was taken off in the presence of the mayor, magistrates, constables, churchwardens, and assembled inhabitants." [illustration: brank at stockport.] in cheshire, at the present time, there are traces of thirteen branks, and at stockport is the most brutal example of the english branks. "it will be observed," says the local historian, dr. henry heginbotham, j.p., "that the special characteristic of this brank is the peculiar construction of the tongue-plate or gag. it is about two inches long, having at the end, as may be seen in the engraving, a ball, into which is inserted a number of sharp iron pins, three on the upper surface, three on the lower, and two pointing backwards. these could not fail to pin the tongue, and effectually silence the noisiest brawler. at the fore part of the collar, there is an iron chain, with a leathern thong attached, by which the offender was led for public gaze through the market-place." it was formerly on market days exhibited in front of the house of the person who had charge of it, as a warning to scolding or swearing women. dr. heginbotham states that: "there is no evidence of its having been actually used for many years, but there is testimony to the fact, that within the last forty years the brank was brought to a termagant market woman, who was effectually silenced by its threatened application." we are indebted to mr. alfred burton for a drawing of the macclesfield brank. dr. brushfield describes this as "a respectable-looking brank." he tells us that "the gag is plain, and the end of it is turned down; there is only one band which passes over the head, and is hinged to the hoops; a temporary joint exists at the upper part, and ample provision is made for readily adjusting it to any description of head. the chain still remains attached to the hoop. about the year , mr. swinnerton informed dr. brushfield that he had never seen it used, but that at the petty sessions it had often been produced _in terrorem_, to stay the volubility of a woman's tongue; and that a threat by a magistrate to order its appliance had always proved sufficient to abate the garrulity of the most determined scold." [illustration: brank at macclesfield.] towards the close of the first quarter of the present century, the brank was last used at altrincham. a virago, who caused her neighbours great trouble, was frequently cautioned in vain respecting her conduct, and as a last resource she was condemned to walk through the town wearing the brank. she refused to move, and it was finally decided to wheel her in a barrow through the principal streets of the town, round the market-place, and to her own home. the punishment had the desired effect, and for the remainder of her life she kept a quiet tongue. there are many traces of the brank in lancashire. mr. w. e. a. axon informs us that his father remembers the brank being used at manchester at the commencement of the present century. kirkham had its brank for scolds, in addition to a ducking-stool. we find, in the same county, traces of the brank at holme, in the forest of rossendale. in the accounts of the greave for the forest of rossendale for - is an entry of the true antiquarian cast: item, for a bridle for scouldinge women, s. d. in "some obsolete peculiarities of english law," by william beamont, the author gives particulars respecting the warrington brank. "hanging up in our museum," says mr. beamont, "may be seen a representation of a withered female face wearing the brank or scold's bridle; one of which instruments, as inflexible as iron and ingenuity can make it, for keeping an unruly tongue quiet by mechanical means, hangs up beside it; and almost within the time of living memory, cicily pewsill, an inmate of the workhouse, and a notorious scold, was seen wearing this disagreeable head-gear in the streets of warrington for half-an-hour or more.... cicily pewsill's case still lingers in tradition, as the last occasion of its application in warrington, and it will soon pass into history." the rev. j. clay told mr. william dobson that since his connection with preston house of correction the brank was put on a woman there, but the matter coming to the knowledge of the home secretary, its further use was prohibited, and to make sure of the barbarous practice being discontinued the brank itself was ordered to be sent to london. a second brank was kept in the prison, principally formed of leather, but with an iron tongue-piece.[ ] [illustration: brank at the manor house, hamstall ridware.] at the north country town of morpeth a brank is still preserved. the following is a record of its use: "dec. , , elizabeth, wife of george holborn, was punished with the branks for two hours, at the market cross, morpeth, by order of mr. thomas gait and mr. george nicholls, then bailiffs, for scandalous and opprobrious language to several persons in the town, as well as to the said bailiffs." [illustration: brank at lichfield.] staffordshire supplies several notable examples of the brank. they were formerly kept at hamstall ridware, beaudesart, lichfield, walsall, and at newcastle-under-lyme. the branks in the two towns last named are alluded to by the celebrated dr. plot, the old historian of the county, in an amusing manner. "we come to the arts that respect mankind," says plot, "amongst which, as elsewhere, the civility of precedence must be allowed to the woman, and that as well in punishments as favours. for the former, whereof they have such a peculiar artifice at newcastle [under lyme] and walsall for correcting of scolds, which it does, too, so effectually and so very safely, that i look upon it as much to be preferred to the cucking-stool, which not only endangers the health of the party, but also gives her tongue liberty 'twixt every dip, to neither of which is this at all liable, it being such a bridle for the tongue as not only quite deprives them of speech, but brings shame for the transgression, and humility thereupon, before 'tis taken off. which, being an instrument scarce heard of, much less seen, i have here presented it to the reader's view [here follows a reference to a plate] as it was taken from the original one, made of iron, at newcastle-under-lyme, wherein the letter _a_ shows the jointed collar that comes round the neck; _b_, _c_, the loops and staples to let it out and in, according to the bigness and slenderness of the neck; _d_, the jointed semicircle that comes over the head, made forked at one end to let through the nose, and _e_, the plate-iron that is put into the mouth and keeps down the tongue. which, being put upon the offender by order of the magistrate, and fastened with a padlock behind, she is led through the town by an officer, to her shame, nor is it taken off until after the party begins to show all external signs imaginable of humiliation and amendment." this brank afterwards passed into the hands of mr. joseph mayer, f.s.a. founder of the museum at liverpool. [illustration: chesterfield brank.] it is pleasing to record the fact that there is only trace of one brank belonging to derbyshire--a circumstance which speaks well for its men and women. the latter have for a long period borne exemplary characters. philip kinder, in the preface of his projected "history of derbyshire," written about the middle of the seventeenth century, alludes to them. "the country-women here," says kinder, "are chaste and sober, and very diligent in their housewifery; they hate idleness, love and obey their husbands; only in some of the great towns many of the seeming sanctificators used to follow the presbyterian gang, and on a lecture day put on their best rayment, and doo hereby take occasion to goo a gossipping. your merry wives of bentley will sometimes look in ye glass, chirpe a cupp merrily, yet not indecently. in the peak they are much given to dance after the bagpipes--almost every towne hath a bagpipe in it." "the chesterfield brank," says mr. llewellyn jewitt, "is a remarkably good example, and has the additional interest of bearing a date. it is nine inches in height, and six inches and three-quarters across the hoop. it consists of a hoop of iron, hinged on either side and fastening behind, and a band, also of iron, passing over the head from back to front, and opening in front to admit the nose of the woman whose misfortune it was to wear it. the mode of putting it on would be thus: the brank would be opened by throwing back the sides of the hoop, and the hinder part of the band by means of the hinges, c, f, f. the constable, or other official, would then stand in front of his victim, and force the knife, or plate, a, into her mouth, the divided band passing on either side of the nose, which would protrude through the opening, b. the hoop would then be closed behind, the band brought down from the top to the back of the head, and fastened down upon it, at e, and thus the cage would at once be firmly and immovably fixed so long as her tormentors might think fit. on the left side is a chain, d, one end of which is attached to the hoop, and at the other end is a ring, by which the victim was led, or by which she was, at pleasure, attached to a post or wall. on front of the brank are the initials 't.c.,' and the date ' '--the year of the 'glorious revolution'--the year of all years memorable in the annals of chesterfield and the little village of whittington, closely adjoining, in which the revolution was planned. strange that an instrument of brutal and tyrannical torture should be made and used at chesterfield at the same moment that the people should be plotting for freedom at the same place. the brank was formerly in the old poor-house at chesterfield, and came into the hands of mr. weale, the assistant poor-law commissioner, who presented it to lady walsham. it is (august, ) still in the hands of sir john walsham, bart., and the drawing from which the accompanying woodcut is executed was kindly made and furnished to me by miss dulcy bell, sir john's sister-in-law."[ ] the leicester brank is similar to the one at chesterfield. at the back of the hoop is a chain about twelve inches long. it was formerly kept in the leicester borough gaol. [illustration: leicester brank.] in the year , judge richardson gave orders for a brank to be destroyed which was kept ready and most probably frequently used at the county hall, nottingham. we gather from a note furnished by mr. j. potter briscoe a curious circumstance in connection with this brank--that it was used to subdue the unruly tongues of the sterner sex, as well as those of noisy females. james brodie, a blind beggar who was executed on the th july, , for the murder of his boy-guide, in the nottingham forest, was the last person punished with the brank. during his imprisonment, prior to execution, he was so noisy that the brank was called into requisition, to do what he refused to do himself, namely, to hold his tongue. [illustration: brank formerly in the possession of mr. carrington.] here is a picture of a brank formerly in the possession of the late mr. f. a. carrington, the well-known antiquary. it is supposed to belong to the period of william iii. mr. carrington could not give any history of this curious relic of the olden time. [illustration: brank at doddington park.] at doddington park, lincolnshire, a brank is preserved, and is of a decidedly foreign appearance. it will be noticed that it bears some resemblance to the peculiar long-snouted visor of the bascinets, occasionally worn in the reign of richard ii. no historical particulars are known respecting this grotesque brank. [illustration: brank in the ashmolean museum.] in the ashmolean museum at oxford, a curious brank may be seen. it is not recorded in the catalogue of the collection by whom it was presented, or where it was previously used; it is described as "a gag or brank, formerly used with the ducking-stool, as a punishment for scolds." it will be noticed that a chain is attached to the front of this brank, so that the poor unfortunate woman, in addition to being gagged, had the mortification of being led by the nose through the town. the gag is marked _a_, and _b_ is the aperture for the nose. [illustration: engine of torture in the ludlow museum.] a curious engine of torture may be seen in the ludlow museum, and we give an illustration of it. it belongs to a class of engines far more formidable than branks. a description of this head-piece appears in the _archæological journal_ for september, , from the pen of mr. w. j. bernard smith. "the powerful screwing apparatus," says mr. smith, "seems calculated to force the iron mask with torturing effect upon the brow of the victim; there are no eye-holes, but concavities in their places, as though to allow for the starting of the eye-balls under violent pressure. there is a strong bar with a square hole, evidently intended to fasten the criminal against a wall, or perhaps to the pillory; and i have heard it said that these instruments were used to keep the head steady during the infliction of branding." a curious instrument of punishment, belonging to the same class as that at ludlow, is described at some length, with an illustration, in "worcester in olden times," by john noake (london, ). the picture and description have been frequently reproduced. [illustration: shrewsbury brank.] several shropshire branks remain at the present time. the one at shrewsbury does not appear to be of any great antiquity. its form is simple and its character harmless. this bridle was at one time in constant use in shrewsbury, and there are those yet living whose memories are sufficiently good to carry them back to the days when the effects of the application of the brank in question were to be seen, rather than, as now, imagined. the year cannot be ascertained when this brank was first worn, but it is known to have been last used in .[ ] at oswestry are two branks, one belonging to the corporation, and the other is in the store-room of the workhouse. the rector of whitchurch has in his possession a brank, which was formerly used by the town and union authorities. at market drayton are two branks: one is the property of the lord of the manor, and the other formerly belonged to the dodcot union. the market drayton brank, and also the one at whitchurch, have on each a revolving wheel at the end of the gag or tongue-plate. in bygone times, the brank was frequently used for correcting unmanageable paupers. at edinburgh, in the museum of the society of antiquaries of scotland, is a brank said to be from a town in east fifeshire, having a rowel-shaped gag. in the year , it was decided by the town council of edinburgh, that all persons found guilty of blasphemy should be punished by the iron brank. in north britain, it appears to have been used for punishing persons guilty of immorality. on the th october, the kirk-session of canongate sentenced david persoun, convicted of this offence, to be "brankit for four hours," while his associate in guilt, isobel mountray, was "banisit the gait," that is, expelled from the parish. only a week previously, the same kirk-session had issued a proclamation that all women found guilty of this lawlessness "be brankit six houris at the croce." we close this chapter by directing attention to the bishop's brank, kept at st. andrews, respecting which a singular story is told. a woman in a humble walk of life, named isabel lindsay, stood up in the parish church of st. andrews, during the time of divine service, when archbishop sharp was preaching, and declared that when he was a college student he was guilty of an illicit amour with her. she was arrested for this statement, and brought before the kirk-sessions, and by its members sentenced "to appear for a succession of sundays on the repentance stool, wearing the brank." footnotes: [ ] dobson's "preston in the olden time," . [ ] "the reliquary," october, . [ ] morris's "obsolete punishments of shropshire." riding the stang. the ancient custom of riding the stang still lingers in some remote parts of the country. holding delinquents up to ridicule was a favourite mode of punishment practised by our forefathers, and riding the stang was the means generally employed for punishing husbands who beat their wives, or allowed themselves to be henpecked, or were profligate in their conduct. there are various designations for the custom. in yorkshire, riding the stang is the name used; in scotland the same term is applied; in the south of england skimmington-riding is the title generally employed, and on the continent it is known by other appellations. [illustration: riding the stang.] the mode of carrying out the ceremony is as follows: a man having beaten his wife, the young men of the village assume the attitude of public censors, and arrangements are made for riding the stang three nights in succession. a trumpeter blows his horn loud and long as day gives way to night, and the villagers are brought together. a pole or a ladder is procured, and the most witty man in the village is placed thereon, mounted shoulder-high, and carried in great state through the streets. in one hand he has a large key or stick, and in the other a dripping-pan, and leads the music of the crowd. men, women, and children join in the fun, and beat kettles, pans, pots, or anything else that will make a noise; tin whistles, horns, and trumpets are blown, the noise produced being better imagined than described. as soon as all is ready, a start is made, and about every fifty yards the procession stops, and the mounted man proclaims at the top of his voice a rhyme suited to the nature of the offence, somewhat as follows: "ran, tan, tan; ran, tan, tan, to the sound of this pan; this is to give notice that tom trotter has beaten his good woman! for what, and for why? because she ate when she was hungry, and drank when she was dry. ran, tan, ran, tan, tan; hurrah--hurrah! for this good wo-man! he beat her, he beat her, he beat her indeed, for spending a penny when she had need. he beat her black, he beat her blue; when old nick gets him, he'll give him his due; ran, tan, tan; ran, tan, tan; we'll send him there in this old frying-pan; hurrah--hurrah! for his good wo-man!" we have an example noted at sutton, near hull, in august, . it was given with great spirit by a youth, mounted after the customary manner on a ladder, to the evident enjoyment of a large gathering of the inhabitants, who were enraged at the brutal treatment of a woman by her husband: "here we come with a ran, dan, dang: it's not for you, nor for me, we ride this stang; but for ----, whose wife he did bang. he banged her, he banged her, he banged her indeed: he banged her, poor creature, before she stood need. he took up neither tipstaff nor stower, but with his fist he knocked her backwards ower; he kicked her, he punched her, till he made her cry, and to finish all, he gave her a black eye. now, all you good people that live in this row, we would have you take warning, for this is our law: if any of you, your wives you do bang, we're sure, we're sure, to ride you the stang." "last night," says the _sunderland daily post_ of march st, , "some excitement was caused in northallerton by the celebration of the old custom of 'riding the stang,' which is to expose some one guilty of gross immoral practices, and of a breach of sacred matrimonial rights. some hundreds of people followed the conveyance, in which two effigies were erected and exhibited through the principal streets. at intervals, a person in the conveyance shouted out in rhyme their object, and said they fully intended to make a complete celebration of the custom, which is to 'ride the stang' three nights in succession, and on the last night to burn the effigies on the green near the church." the stang was ridden at the ancient town of hedon, th, th, and th february, . the house of the culprit is visited several times each night, and the proceedings kept up three nights in succession, and a circuit of the church is also made, as it is believed that those taking part in the ceremony will not be amenable to the law, if they do not omit this part of the custom. if the offence is a very serious one, the offender is burnt in effigy before his own door. in the olden days, the offender himself was often compelled to ride the stang. several of the old poets refer to this ancient usage. allan ramsay, in one of his poems, published in , says: "they frae a barn a kaber raught and mounted wi' a bang, betwisht twa's shoulders, and sat straught, upon't and _rade the stang on her_ that day." mr. geo. roberts, of lyme regis, forwarded to sir walter scott some interesting notes on skimmington-riding. he informed sir walter that in the south of england: "about dusk two individuals, one armed with a skimmer and the other with a ladle, came out of some obscure street attended by a crowd, whose laughter, huzzas, etc., emulate the well-known _charivari_ of the french. the two performers are sometimes in a cart, at other times on a donkey; one personating the wife, the other the husband. they beat each other furiously with the culinary weapons above described, and, warmed by the applause and presence of so many spectators (for all turn out to see a skimmington), their dialogue attains a freedom, except using surnames, only comparable with their gestures. on arriving at the house of the parties represented in the moving drama, animation is at its height: the crowd usually stay at the spot some minutes, and then traverse the town. the performers are remunerated by the spectators: the parties who parade the streets with the performers sweep with brooms the doors of those who are likely to require a similar visitation." dr. king, in his "miscellany," thus refers to the subject: "when the young people ride the skimmington, there is a general trembling in the town; not only he for whom the party rides suffers, but they sweep other doors besides; and by the hieroglyphic does appear that the good woman is the master there." according to douce, _skimmington_ is derived from _skimming-ladle_, used in the ceremony. in butler's "hudibras," considerable attention is paid to the custom. a few of the lines are as follow: "and now the cause of all their fear, by slow degrees approached so near, of horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys, and kettle-drums whose sullen dub, sounds like the hooping of a tub; · · · and followed with a world of tall lads, that merry ditties troll'd and ballads. · · · next pans and kettles of all keys, from trebles down to double base: · · · and at fit periods the whole rout set up their throat with clamorous shout." a notice of an old welsh ceremony appeared in the _liverpool mercury_ on march th, , and it will not be without interest to reproduce it. "that ancient welsh custom," says the writer, "now nearly obsolete, known as riding the ceffyl pren--_anglicé_, 'wooden-horse'--and intended to operate as a wholesome warning to faithless wives and husbands, was revived on saturday night in an anglesey village some three miles from llangefni. the individual who had drawn upon himself the odium of his neighbours had parted from his wife, and was alleged to be persistent in his attentions to another female. on saturday night a large party surrounded the house, and compelled him to get astride a ladder, carrying him shoulder-high through the village, stopping at certain points to allow the womankind to wreak their vengeance upon him. this amusement was kept up for some time until the opportune arrival of a sergeant of police from llangefni, who rescued the unlucky wight." [illustration: ye ende] index. aberdeen, jougs at, abusing a mistress, admiralty of the humber, court of the, - adultery, - alban, burnt to death, aldbury stocks, alfreton, alive, gibbeted, , - altrincham, american punishments, - , - anglo-saxon punishments, , applegirth, jougs at, aram, eugene, - argyle, earl of, ascham, r., ashby-de-la-zouch, finger pillory at, - ashton-under-lyne, athens, books burnt at, attempted murder, last execution for, attwood, wm., balmerino, lord, banishing women, bank note not to be imitated, bank restriction barometer, barnsley, whipping at, - barrock, gibbet at, battle abbey, abbot of, bawtry, saddler of, baynard's castle, beaudesart, finger-pillory at, becket, murder of, beggars' litany, beheading, , - bellman at newgate, benefit of clergy, beverley stocks, bewick's gibbets, bible burnt, bierton, gibbet at, black isle, penance at, blasphemer in the pillory, boiling to death, - bolas, robert and william, - boleyn, anne, , boleyn, george, bowl, st. giles's, bradford ducking-stool, bramhall stocks, branding, - brandreth, turner, and ludlam, execution of, - brank, or scold's bridle, - bridlington jougs, , ; pillory, brigg, inhabitants of, petitioning against a gibbet, broadwater ducking-stool, broughton, spence, gibbeted, bullingham court, burnham, burning books, - burning to death, - bury st. edmunds, curious epitaph at, ; execution at, for robbery, cambridge, ducking-stool, ; trials at, candles, flogging with, canterbury, more's head buried at, ; pillory, cart tail, whipping at, , , , carted out of the town, cato street conspirators, charles i. beheaded, cheapside pillory, , chelmsford, gibbeting at, cheshire branks, chester cucking-stool, ; thewe, chesterfield brank, ; ducking-stool, chevin, near belper, gibbets on, ; set on fire, children, whipping, at executions, china, cang in, - chippenham, gibbet at, clever tom clinch, clipping coin, hanged for, clova, jougs at, - cobham, eleanor, penance of, - coffins conveyed with criminals to the gallows, coleshill whipping-post, - colleen bawn, - collingbourne, collingham, gallows at, - congleton brank, constable, gibbeted at hull, cook, james, last man gibbeted, cornhill pillory, cornwall, cost of an execution, - coventry ducking-stool, cromwell, thomas, cruikshank on executions, - crusaders punished by drowning, cucking-stool, dame's school finger pillory, - danes, mutilation under the, daventry ducking-stool, defoe, daniel, - deplorable conduct of hangman, derby, trial for high treason at, - ; curious story, ; ducking-stool, ; gibbet, - derbyshire, gibbets in, ; women, devil's punch bowl, devonshire, diary of a lady of quality, - dinners after executions, ditton, penance at, doddington park, brank at, doncaster whipping-post, dowe, robert, driffield, pillory at, driven in own carriage to execution, drowning, - drummed out of a town, drunkard's cloak, - drunkards put in stocks, - ducking-stool, - duddingston, jougs at, dudley, lord, dumfries, hangman's dues, - ; jougs at, dundee, durham, penance at, duval, claude, east ardsley ducking-stool, east clevedon, penance at, edinburgh branks, ; penance at, essex, earl of, executed for leaving open a gate, - exeter, executions at, - farewell address, strange, - feasting at funerals, fenwick, jougs at, ferrers, earl, finger-pillory, - first book of discipline, first instance of hanging, drawing and quartering, first private execution, fisher, john, floyde, edward, forest laws, galashiels, jougs at, galston, gardner, ralph, gaveston, piers, germany, drunkard's cloak in, gibbeted alive, , - gibbet and gallows in ogilby's book, gibbet, cost of, gipsies, glasgow brank, gloucester, duke of, godly butchery, gretton stocks, grey, lady jane, grinrod's ghost, - haddon hall, curious relic at, halifax gibbet, - hanging, - hanging, drawing, and quartering, - hanging in chains, - hangman's dues, - hardwick, forest of, - harris, ph[oe]be, harvest workmen and stocks, hayes, catherine, hedon, riding stang at, ; thewe at, helsby tor, gibbet on, henry ii., penance of, henry iv. of germany, henry viii., hanging reign, hereford, executions at, hertfordshire, gibbets in, , hind head, gibbet at, - holinshed's chronicle, - holland, drunkard's cloak in, horne, w. a., hornsea pennels, howard, katherine, , hoyle's drawing of halifax gibbet, hull ducking-stool, ; gibbet, ; mayor, ; penance, ; pillory, ; prayer book burnt, humber, admiral of, insufficiency of pillory, action for, ipswich ducking-stool, - , jarrow, gibbet at, - jedburgh, jeffreys, judge, jews hanged, johnson, dr. s., jougs, the, - keach, benjamin, - killed in the pillory, kilmarnock, earl of, kilmaurs, jougs at, king of the peak, king's lynn, boiling to death, - ; burning to death, ; ducking-stool, kingston-upon-thames ducking-stool, kirkby ducking-stool, kirkham brank, kirton-in-lindsey whipping-post, - knaresborough forest, aram gibbeted at, labienus, lancaster castle, last person burnt, last public execution, laud, archbishop, leeds ducking-stool, legend of the hare, leicester brank, ; cucking-stool, ; ducking-stool, ; gibbet, leighton, dr., leominster ducking-stool, lesmahagow, jougs at, lichfield brank, lilburne, lincoln, burning to death at, lingard, anthony, gibbeted, - littlecote hall, finger-pillory at, liverpool ducking-stool, lochcarron, penance at, london, jougs at, lovat, lord, - ludlow brank, lynch law, macclesfield brank, , , mails, gibbeted for robbing, , , , manchester brank, ; ducking-stool, ; pillory, maritime laws, - marlowe, christopher, market drayton brank, ; stocks, mary queen of scots, execution of, melton ross, gallows at, - merrington, gibbet at, merton, jougs at, methven, paul, midgley, dr. s., miles's gibbet, - milton's books burnt, misson on the ducking-stool, monasteries and the poor, monmouth, duke of, more, sir thomas, morley brank, ; ducking-stool, morpeth brank, morton, earl of, - murphy, last person burnt, mutilation, - nayler, jas., - neglecting to attend church, nevison, newbury stocks, newcastle-on-tyne, brank at, ; cruel magistrates, ; drunkard's cloak at, - ; pillory, newcastle-under-lyme brank, - norfolk, duke of, north aston, penance at, north briton, the, north cave, penance of vicar, northallerton, riding stang at, northampton, branding, ; hanging, ; woman burnt to death, northumberland, duke of, norwich ducking-stool, not raising his bonnet, nottingham brank, ; ducking-stool, ; funeral sermons, ; hanging, ; whipping, numa pompilius, oates, titus, ockam in the pillory, old greyfriars, edinburgh, ordeal of touch, oswestry brank, oxford brank, paisley, books burnt, ; execution, ; penance at, ; parish registers at halifax, paulmy, pillory at, - peine forte et dure, - pendleton moor, gibbet at, - pentrich, plot planned at, pepys, s., pillory, the, - pirate gibbeted at hornsea, plymouth ducking-stools, - popish plot, prayer book burnt, prayers at st. sepulchre's church, pressing to death, - preston brank, ; pillory, prynne, w., public executions, public penance, - punishing authors and burning books, - pythagoras, raleigh, sir walter, ratcliff highway, refusing to plead, - repentance stool, - riddle, a grim, riding the stang, - ridware beaudesart brank, rioting at executions, - rizzio, murder of, rochester, bishop of, - rochford, viscountess, rome, books burnt at, romilly, sir samuel, advocates humane reforms, roose boiled to death, ross, sir william, rothesay, roxby, penance at, rugby ducking-stool, rushmere heath, burning to death on, rye, gibbeting at, ; pillory sabbath-breaking, sack-cloth, saddler of bawtry, salisbury, countess of, sancton, penance at, sandwich, drowning at, ; ducking-stool, scarborough ducking-stool, - scotch pedlars whipped, scotland, drowning, ; gibbeting, ; stocks in, scottish maiden, - scrooby, gibbet at, second statute of labourers, selby ducking-stool, servants, whipping, - seymour, lord, shakespeare and the stocks, - shelley on an execution, shooting at a gibbeted man, shore, jane, penance of, - shrewsbury brank, shropshire assizes, ; gibbet, shrouds of condemned criminals, silken rope, - sixteen-string jack, skimmington-riding, skipton ducking-stool, ; stocks, slaves branded, slight offences, executions for, somerset, duke of, southam ducking-stool, splicing the rope, st. andrews, boy punished, ; brank, st. paul's churchyard, books burnt in, st. giles's bowl, stafford, viscount, staffordshire branks, stanfield, philip, stanningley stocks, stockport brank, ; stocks, stocks, the, - stokesley, penance at, - stow, penance at, strafford, earl of, strangeways, major, - stubbs, suffolk, duke of, surrey, earl of, sutton, riding stang at, swimming a witch, taylor on halifax law, ; on whipping-posts, thewe, thurlow, lord, on the pillory, tolbooth, edinburgh, tower of london, tring, gibbet at, - tudor manners, tumbrel, tutor's assistant, drawing by cruikshank, tyburn, tyrwhitt, robert, uckington heath, gibbet on, upton common, gibbet, vagrancy, vernon, sir george, wakefield ducking-stool, ; jougs, ; penance, ; whipping, wallingford pillory, walsall brank, , waltham abbey whipping-post, pillory and stocks, - walton-on-thames, brank at, wardlow, gibbet at, warrington brank, ; museum, warton, warwick, tumbrel at, wedding clothes, executed in, welsh customs, west calder, whip-cord, torturing with, whipping act, whipping and whipping-posts, - whiston stocks, whitchurch brank, whitfield, notorious highwayman, wigtown, hangman at, ; last execution at, ; jougs, william the conqueror introduces beheading, williams, bookseller, - wilson, alexander, winchester, coiners punished at, wirksworth, penance at, witchcraft, ; burning to death for, wolsey, cardinal, in the stocks, women drowned, ; whipped, wootton bassett, tumbrel at, - worcester, , - , worsborough ducking-stool, yarmouth, pirate gibbeted at, "mr. andrews' books are always interesting."--_church bells._ "no student of mr. andrews' books can be a dull after-dinner speaker, for his writings are full of curious out-of-the-way information and good stories."--_birmingham daily gazette._ * * * * * england in the days of old. by william andrews, f.r.h.s., _demy vo., s. d. numerous illustrations._ this volume is one of unusual interest and value to the lover of olden days and ways, and can hardly fail to interest and instruct the reader. it recalls many forgotten episodes, scenes, characters, manners, customs, etc., in the social and domestic life of england. contents:--when wigs were worn--powdering the hair--men wearing muffs--concerning corporation customs--bribes for the palate--rebel heads on city gates--burial at cross roads--detaining the dead for debt--a nobleman's household in tudor times--bread and baking in bygone days--arise, mistress, arise!--the turnspit--a gossip about the goose--bells as time-tellers--the age of snuffing--state lotteries--bear-baiting--morris dancers--the folk-lore of midsummer eve--harvest home--curious charities--an old-time chronicler. list of illustrations:--the house of commons in the time of sir robert walpole--egyptian wig--the earl of albemarle--campaign wig--periwig with tail--ramillie-wig--pig-tail wig--bag-wig--archbishop tilotson--heart-breakers--a barber's shop in the time of queen elizabeth--with and without a wig--stealing a wig--man with muff, --burying the mace at nottingham--the lord mayor of york escorting princess margaret--the mayor of wycombe going to the guildhall--woman wearing a scold's bridle--the brank--andrew marvell--old london bridge, shewing heads of rebels on the gate--axe, block, and executioner's mask--margaret roper taking leave of her father, sir thomas more--rebel heads, from a print published in --temple bar in dr. johnson's time--micklegate bar, york--clock, hampton court palace--drawing a lottery in the guildhall, --advertising the last state lottery--partaking of the pungent pinch--morris dance, from a painted window at betley--morris dance, temp. james i.--a whitsun morris dance--bear garden, or hope theatre, --the globe theatre, temp. elizabeth--plan of bankside early in the seventeenth century--john stow's monument. a carefully prepared index enables the reader to refer to the varied and interesting contents of the book. "a very attractive and informing book."--_birmingham daily gazette._ "mr. andrews has the true art of narration, and contrives to give us the results of his learning with considerable freshness of style, whilst his subjects are always interesting and picturesque."--_manchester courier._ "the book is of unusual interest."--_eastern morning news._ "of the many clever books which mr. andrews has written none does him greater credit than 'england in the days of old,' and none will be read with greater profit."--_northern gazette._ "valuable and interesting."--_the times._ "readable as well as instructive."--_the globe._ "a valuable addition to any library."--_derbyshire times._ * * * * * the bygone series. in this series the following volumes are included, and issued at s. d. each. demy vo., cloth gilt. these books have been favourably reviewed in the leading critical journals of england and america. carefully written articles by recognised authorities are included on history, castles, abbeys, biography, romantic episodes, legendary lore, traditional stories, curious customs, folk-lore, etc., etc. the works are illustrated by eminent artists, and by the reproduction of quaint pictures of the olden time. bygone berkshire, edited by rev. p. h. ditchfield, m.a., f.s.a. bygone cheshire, edited by william andrews. bygone devonshire, by the rev. hilderic friend. bygone durham, edited by william andrews. bygone gloucestershire, edited by william andrews. bygone hertfordshire, edited by william andrews. bygone leicestershire, edited by william andrews. bygone lincolnshire ( vols), edited by william andrews. bygone middlesex, edited by william andrews. bygone norfolk, edited by william andrews. bygone northumberland, edited by william andrews. bygone nottinghamshire, by william stevenson. bygone scotland, by david maxwell, c.e. bygone somersetshire, edited by cuming walters. bygone southwark, by mrs. e. boger. bygone suffolk, edited by cuming walters. bygone surrey, edited by george clinch and s. w. kershaw, f.s.a. bygone sussex, by w. e. a. axon. bygone warwickshire, edited by william andrews. bygone yorkshire, edited by william andrews. * * * * * literary byways. by william andrews. _demy vo., cloth gilt, s. d._ contents:--authors at work--the earnings of authors--"declined with thanks"--epigrams on authors--poetical graces--poetry on panes--english folk rhymes--the poetry of toast lists and menu cards--toasts and toasting--curious american old time gleanings--the earliest american poetess: anne bradstreet--a playful poet: miss catherine fanshawe--a popular song writer: mrs. john hunter--a poet of the poor: mary pyper--the poet of the fisher-folk: mrs. susan k. phillips--a poet and novelist of the people: thomas miller--the cottage countess--the compiler of "old moore's almanack": henry andrews--james nayler, the mad quaker, who claimed to be the messiah--a biographical romance: swan's strange story--short letters--index. "an interesting volume."--_church bells._ "turn where you will, there is information and entertainment in this book."--_birmingham daily gazette._ "the volume is most enjoyable."--_perthshire advertiser._ "the volume consists of entertaining chapters written in a chatty style."--_daily advertiser._ "a readable volume about authors and books.... like mr. andrews's other works, the book shows wide out-of-the-way reading."--_glasgow herald._ "dull after-dinner speakers should be compelled to peruse this volume, and ornament their orations and per-orations with its gems."--_sunday times._ "an entertaining volume.... no matter where the book is opened, the reader will find some amusing and instructive matter."--_dundee advertiser._ "readable and entertaining."--_notes and queries._ "mr. andrews delights in the production of the pleasant, gossipy order of books. he is well qualified, indeed, to do so, for he is painstaking in the collection of interesting literary facts, methodical in setting them forth, and he loves books with genuine ardour."--_aberdeen free press._ "we heartily commend this volume to the attention of readers who are in any way interested in literature."--_scots pictorial._ * * * * * the church treasury of history, custom, folk-lore, etc. edited by william andrews, f.r.h.s. _demy vo., s. d. numerous illustrations._ contents:--stave-kirks--curious churches of cornwall--holy wells--hermits and hermit cells--church wakes--fortified church towers--the knight templars: their churches and their privileges--english mediæval pilgrimages--pilgrims' signs--human skin on church doors--animals of the church in wood, stone, and bronze--queries in stones--pictures in churches--flowers and the rites of the church--ghost layers and ghost laying--church walks--westminster wax-works--index. numerous illustrations. "it is a work that will prove interesting to the clergy and churchmen generally, and to all others who have an antiquarian turn of mind, or like to be regaled occasionally by reading old-world customs and anecdotes."--_church family newspaper._ "mr. andrews has given us some excellent volumes of church lore, but none quite so good as this. the subjects are well chosen. they are treated brightly and with considerable detail, and they are well illustrated.... mr. andrews is himself responsible for some of the most interesting papers, but all his helpers have caught his own spirit, and the result is a volume full of information well and pleasantly put."--_london quarterly review._ "those who seek information regarding curious and quaint relics or customs will find much to interest them in this book. the illustrations are good."--_publishers' circular._ "an excellent and entertaining book."--_newcastle daily leader._ "the book will be welcome to every lover of archæological lore."--_liverpool daily post._ "the volume is of a most informing and suggestive character, abounding in facts not easy of access to the ordinary reader, and enhanced with illustrations of a high order of merit, and extremely numerous."--_birmingham daily gazette._ "the contents of the volume are very good."--_leeds mercury._ "the volume is sure to meet with a cordial reception."--_manchester courier._ "a fascinating book."--_stockport advertiser._ "mr. andrews has brought together much curious matter."--_manchester guardian._ "the book is a very readable one, and will receive a hearty welcome."--_herts. advertiser._ "mr. william andrews has been able to give us a very acceptable and useful addition to the books which deal with the curiosities of church lore, and for this deserves our hearty thanks. the manner in which the book is printed and illustrated also commands our admiration."--_norfolk chronicle._ * * * * * a book about bells. by the rev. geo. s. tyack, b.a., author of the "historic dress of the clergy," etc. _crown, cloth extra, s._ contents:--invention of bells--bell founding and bell founders--dates and names of bells--the decoration of bells--some noteworthy bells--the loss of old bells--towers and campaniles--bell-ringing and bell-ringers--the church-going bell--bells at christian festivals and fasts--the epochs of man's life marked by the bells--the blessings and the cursings of the bells--bells as time-markers--secular uses of church and other bells--small bells, secular and sacred--carillons--belfry rhymes and legends--index of subjects, index of places. thirteen full-page plates. "a most useful and interesting book.... all who are interested in bells will, we feel confident, read it with pleasure and profit."--_church family newspaper._ "a pleasing, graceful, and scholarly book.... a handsome volume which will be prized by the antiquary, and can be perused with delight and advantage by the general reader."--_notes and queries._ "'a book about bells' can be heartily commended."--_pall mall gazette._ "an excellent and entertaining book, which we commend to the attention not only of those who are specially interested in the subject of bells, but to all lovers of quaint archæological lore."--_glasgow herald._ "the book is well printed and artistic in form."--_manchester courier._ "'a book about bells' is destined to be the work of reference on the subject, and it ought to find a home on the shelves of every library."--_northern gazette._ "the task mr. tyack has set himself, he has carried out admirably, and throughout care and patient research are apparent."--_lynn news._ "we heartily recommend our readers to procure this volume."--_the churchwoman._ "an entertaining work."--_yorkshire post._ "'a book about bells' will interest almost everyone. antiquaries will find in it an immense store of information: but the general reader will equally feel that it is a book well worth reading from beginning to end."--_the news_, edited by the rev. charles bullock, b.d. "an excellent work."--_stockton herald._ "it is a well-written work, and it is sure to be popular."--_hull christian voice._ "covers the whole field of bell-lore."--_scotsman._ "most interesting and finely illustrated."--_birmingham daily gazette._ * * * * * historic dress of the clergy. by the rev. geo. s. tyack, b.a., author of "the cross in ritual, architecture, and art." _crown, cloth extra, s. d._ the work contains thirty-three illustrations from ancient monuments, rare manuscripts, and other sources. "a very painstaking and very valuable volume on a subject which is just now attracting much attention. mr. tyack has collected a large amount of information from sources not available to the unlearned, and has put together his materials in an attractive way. the book deserves and is sure to meet with a wide circulation."--_daily chronicle._ "this book is written with great care, and with an evident knowledge of history. it is well worth the study of all who wish to be better informed upon a subject which the author states in his preface gives evident signs of a lively and growing interest."--_manchester courier._ "those who are interested in the dress of the clergy will find full information gathered together here, and set forth in a lucid and scholarly way."--_glasgow herald._ "we are glad to welcome yet another volume from the author of 'the cross in ritual, architecture, and art.' his subject, chosen widely and carried out comprehensively, makes this a valuable book of reference for all classes. it is only the antiquary and the ecclesiologist who can devote time and talents to research of this kind, and mr. tyack has done a real and lasting service to the church of england by collecting so much useful and reliable information upon the dress of the clergy in all ages, and offering it to the public in such a popular form. we do not hesitate to recommend this volume as the most reliable and the most comprehensive illustrated guide to the history and origin of the canonical vestments and other dress worn by the clergy, whether ecclesiastical, academical, or general, while the excellent work in typography and binding make it a beautiful gift-book."--_church bells._ "a very lucid history of ecclesiastical vestments from levitical times to the present day."--_pall mall gazette._ "the book can be recommended to the undoubtedly large class of persons who are seeking information on this and kindred subjects."--_the times._ "the work may be read either as pastime or for instruction, and is worthy of a place in the permanent section of any library. the numerous illustrations, extensive contents table and index, and beautiful workmanship, both in typography and binding, are all features of attraction and utility."--_dundee advertiser._ * * * * * the miracle play in england, an account of the early religious drama. by sidney w. clarke, barrister-at-law. _crown vo., s. d. illustrated._ in bygone times the miracle play formed an important feature in the religious life of england. to those taking an interest in the history of the church of england, this volume will prove useful. the author has given long and careful study to this subject, and produced a reliable and readable book, which can hardly fail to interest and instruct the reader. it is a volume for general reading, and for a permanent place in the reference library. contents:--the origin of drama--the beginnings of english drama--the york plays--the wakefield plays--the chester plays--the coventry plays--other english miracle plays--the production of a miracle play--the scenery, properties, and dresses--appendix--the order of the york plays--extract from city register of york, --the order of the wakefield plays--the order of the chester plays--the order of the grey friars' plays at coventry--a miracle play in a puppet show--index. "mr. clarke has chosen a most interesting subject, one that is attractive alike to the student, the historian, and the general reader.... a most interesting volume, and a number of quaint illustrations add to its value."--_birmingham daily gazette._ "the book should be useful to many."--_manchester guardian._ "an admirable work."--_eastern morning news._ "mr. sidney clarke's concise monograph in 'the miracle play in england' is another of the long and interesting series of antiquarian volumes for popular reading issued by the same publishing house. the author briefly sketches the rise and growth of the 'miracle' or 'mystery' play in europe and in england; and gives an account of the series or cycle of these curious religious dramas--the forerunners of the modern secular play--performed at york, wakefield, chester, coventry, and other towns in the middle ages. but his chief efforts are devoted to giving a sketch of the manner of production, and the scenery, properties, and dresses of the old miracle play, as drawn from the minute account books of the craft and trade guilds and other authentic records of the period. mr. clarke has gone to the best sources for his information, and the volume, illustrated by quaint cuts, is an excellent compendium of information on a curious byeway of literature and art."--_the scotsman._ * * * * * legal lore: curiosities of law and lawyers. edited by william andrews, f.r.h.s. _demy vo., cloth extra, s. d._ contents:--bible law--sanctuaries--trials in superstitious ages--on symbols--law under the feudal system--the manor and manor law--ancient tenures--laws of the forest--trial by jury in old times--barbarous punishments--trials of animals--devices of the sixteenth century debtors--laws relating to the gipsies--commonwealth law and lawyers--cock-fighting in scotland--cockieleerie law--fatal links--post-mortem trials--island laws--the little inns of court--obiter. "there are some very amusing and curious facts concerning law and lawyers. we have read with much interest the articles on sanctuaries, trials in superstitious ages, ancient tenures, trials by jury in old times, barbarous punishments, and trials of animals, and can heartily recommend the volume to those who wish for a few hours' profitable diversion in the study of what may be called the light literature of the law."--_daily mail._ "most amusing and instructive reading."--_the scotsman._ "the contents of the volume are extremely entertaining, and convey not a little information on ancient ideas and habits of life. while members of the legal profession will turn to the work for incidents with which to illustrate an argument or point a joke, laymen will enjoy its vivid descriptions of old-fashioned proceedings and often semi-barbaric ideas to obligation and rectitude."--_dundee advertiser._ "the subjects chosen are extremely interesting, and contain a quantity of out-of-the-way and not easily accessible information.... very tastefully printed and bound."--_birmingham daily gazette._ "the book is handsomely got up; the style throughout is popular and clear, and the variety of its contents, and the individuality of the writers gave an added charm to the work."--_daily free press._ "the book is interesting both to the general reader and the student."--_cheshire notes and queries._ "those who care only to be amused will find plenty of entertainment in this volume, while those who regard it as a work of reference will rejoice at the variety of material, and appreciate the careful indexing."--_dundee courier._ "very interesting subjects, lucidly and charmingly written. the versatility of the work assures for it a wide popularity."--_northern gazette._ "a happy and useful addition to current literature."--_norfolk chronicle._ "the book is a very fascinating one, and it is specially interesting to students of history as showing the vast changes which, by gradual course of development have been brought about both in the principles and practice of the law."--_the evening gazette._ * * * * * transcriber's note: corrections to the index have been made without note. significant changes to the text are listed below. p. , 'frazer' changed to _fraser_. p. , 'detroyed' changed to _destroyed_, 'fictitious capital and false credit destroyed.' p. , ' th' changed to _ th_, 'monday, the th of march.' p. , 'on same night ...' changed to _on the same night ..._ p. , 'empanneled' changed to _empanelled_ (twice). p. , 'mr. llewellynn jewitt' changed to _mr. llewellyn jewitt_. p. , 'dioletian' changed to _diocletian_. p. , 'scolding-car' changed to _scolding cart_, 'scolding cart is another name ...' p. , 'described as a "a gag or brank ..."' changed to _described as "a gag or brank ..."_ freeway by bryce walton _the morrisons didn't lose their freedom. they were merely sentenced to the highways for life, never stopping anywhere, going no place, just driving, driving, driving...._ [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from worlds of if science fiction, june . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] some people had disagreed with him. they were influential people. he was put on the road. * * * * * stan wanted to scream at the big sixteen-cylinder special to go faster. but salt lake city, where they would allow him to stop over for the maximum eight hours, was a long way off. and anyway, he couldn't go over a hundred. the special had an automatic cut-off. he stared down the super ten-lane freeway, down the glassy river, plunging straight across the early desert morning--into nowhere. that was anna's trouble. his wife couldn't just keep travelling, knowing there was no place to go. no one could do that. i can't do it much longer either, stan thought. the two of us with no place to go but back and forth, across and over, retracing the same throughways, highways, freeways, a thousand times round and round like mobile bugs caught in a gigantic concrete net. he kept watching his wife's white face in the rear-view mirror. now there was this bitter veil of resignation painted on it. he didn't know when the hysteria would scream through again, what she would try next, or when. she had always been highly emotional, vital, active, a fighter. the special kept moving, but it was still a suffocating cage. she needed to stop over somewhere, longer, much longer than the maximum eight hours. she needed treatment, a good long rest, a doctor's care-- she might need more than that. complete freedom perhaps. she had always been an all-or-nothing gal. but he couldn't give her that. shimmering up ahead he saw the shack about fifty feet off the freeway, saw the fluttering of colorful hand-woven rugs and blankets covered with ancient indian symbols. it wasn't an authorized stop, but he stopped. the car swayed slightly as he pressed the hydraulic. from the bluish haze of the desert's tranquil breath a jackrabbit hobbled onto the freeway's fringe. it froze. then with a squeal it scrambled back into the dust to escape the thing hurtling toward it out of the rising sun. * * * * * stan jumped out. the dust burned. there was a flat heavy violence to the blast of morning sun on his face. he looked in through the rear window of the car. "you'll be okay, honey." her face was feverish. sweat stood out on her forehead. she didn't look at him. "it's too late," she said. "we're dead, stan. moving all the time. but not alive." he turned. the pressure, the suppression, the helpless anger was in him meeting the heavy hand of the sun. an old indian, wearing dirty levis and a denim shirt and a beaded belt, was standing near him. his face was angled, so dark it had a bluish tinge. "blanket? rugs? hand-made. real indian stuff." "my wife's sick," stan said. "she needs a doctor. i want to use your phone to call a doctor. i can't leave the freeway--" this was the fourth unauthorized stop he had made since anna had tried to jump out of the car back there--when it was going a hundred miles an hour. the indian saw the special's license. he shrugged, then shook his head. "for god's sake don't shake your head," stan yelled. "just let me use your phone--" the indian kept on shaking his head. there was no emotion, only a fatalistic acceptance of the overly-complex world he and many of his kind had rejected long ago. "you're a crackpot." "but what's that to you when i just want to use your phone? if i can get a doctor's affidavit--" "if i help you, then the law come down on my neck." "but i only want to use the phone!" "i cannot risk it. you drive on now." he felt it, the thing that was slowly dying in anna's eyes. this need to strike out, strike out hard and murderously at something real. this suppressed feeling had been growing in him now for too many miles to remember. he started forward. but the indian slid the knife from his beaded belt. "i am sorry, and that is the honest truth," the indian said. "but you have to move on now." the indian stepped back toward the ancient symbols of his kind. "we have stopped moving. we stay here now no matter what. now, white doctor, it is your turn to move on." he put his hand over his eyes as though to push something down. one act of violence, and the questionable "freedom" would be ended. that would be an admission of defeat. his hand still over his eyes, he backed away. then he turned, choking and half blinded with smoldering rage. keep moving. nothing else to do with them but put them on the road and keep them moving, never letting them stop over long enough to cause trouble, to stir up any wrong ideas. hit the road, crackpot. head on down the super ten-lane freeway into the second middle ages lit with neon. then he was running, yelling at anna. she was past the shack and stumbling through sand toward the mountains. he coaxed her back and into the car, sickness gorging his throat as she kicked and screamed at him and he forced her into the corner of the back seat. "stan, we could run to the mountains." "the law wouldn't let us get very far. remember, the special's remotely controlled. if we leave the freeway, they'd be on us in no time. they know when we stop, where we stop. they know if we leave the freeway!" "but we would have _tried_!" "they're just waiting for us to do something legally wrong so they can put us away, honey. we can't let ourselves be goaded into doing anything legally wrong!" "stan--" she was shaking her head, and her eyes were wet. "can't you see, can't you _see_? what they do to us doesn't matter now. it's what we do, or don't do--" when she quieted down a little, he got back under the wheel. within a hundred feet, the special was going eighty-five miles an hour. * * * * * the thing he had to hold on to hard, was the fact that they had never really done anything wrong. anna needed a good long rest so she could regain the proper perspective. the higher court itself had said they hadn't done anything wrong. there were thousands now on the freeways, none of them had any real criminal labels on them. they were risks. they _might_ be dangerous. attitudes not quite right. a little off center one way or another at the wrong time. some personal indiscretion in the past. a thought not quite orthodox in the present. a possible future threat. a threat to total security. be careful, easy does it. too many black marks on his road record and the "freedom" of the road would go. then he would be a criminal in fact, instead of a vague criminal possibility, and put behind bars. or worse. the hell with them. the hell with them all. he pulled over onto an emergency siding and stopped. not authorized. a good long rest and talk with anna-- then he saw it. suddenly, frantically, he wanted to move on. but now he couldn't. he kept seeing the light of defiance fading from anna's eyes. the patrolcar was there, the way it always was there, suddenly, materializing out of the desert, or out of a mountain, a side street. sometimes it was a helio dropping out of the sky. sometimes it was a light flashing in darkness. every official of the law: city, county, state, or federal, had a full record on every special. they could control them at will. stop them, start them, keep them moving down the line. jails of the open road. mobility lending to incarceration a mock illusion of freedom. open sky. open prairie. the freeway stretching ahead. and the patrolcar coming up behind. the patrolcar stopped. the two patrolmen in black and gold uniforms looked in at stan. "well, egghead," the older, beefy one said. "it was nice of you to stop without being asked. a fellow named ferreti back at snappy service no. said you might be a trouble-maker. we thought we ought to check up." stan said, "i wanted to use his phone to try to get a doctor to examine my wife. she's ill. she needs help and i've been trying--" without turning, the older patrolman interrupted, "larry, what you got on the philosopher here?" the younger patrolman who had a shy, almost embarrassed air about him looked into his black notebook. "he isn't a philosopher, not officially, leland. every crackpot we stop, you figure him to be a philosopher. you just hate philosophers that's all." "well, that's a fact, boy." when he took the cigar out of his mouth, the corners of his mouth were stained brown. "my kid got loused up plenty by a philosopher in high school last year. i raised a squawk and got the crackpot kicked out. i also got three others booted out for hiring him in the first place. i found out he was a lousy atheist!" the patrolman put the cigar back into his mouth. "what have you got on him, lieutenant?" "stanley l. morrison, b.a. drake university, class of ' . doctor of philosophy, drake university, . federal employee - . dropped from federal employment, january, --" "what for, lieutenant?" "for excessive political enthusiasm for the preceding political party in office." the lieutenant looked up almost apologetically. "looks like he was unfortunate enough to have been on the wrong side of the fence when the independants were elected." "these guys are dangerous no matter what side they're on. a crackpot shouldn't be on either side. well, lieutenant, what else?" "professor of nuclear physics, drake university, - . dismissed by board of regents may , charged with 'private thought inconsistent with the policies of the university'. special inquiry august . dismissal sustained. was put on the road as a permanent risk to security february , . he's been on the roads for a year and three months." stan forced quiet into his voice. "my wife's sick. if i could get a doctor to examine her, i'm sure i could get a permit to lay over somewhere so she can get rest and proper treatment." "only eight hours," the beefy one said. "that's the limit. and you're not supposed to have stopped here at all. or back at the indian's." "i know," stan said. "but this is an emergency. if you could help me--" the beefy one grinned into the back seat. "that might be all that's bothering the missus, egghead. she ain't getting the proper treatment maybe." easy, easy does it. in the rear-view mirror he could see that what the patrolman said had brought a flush of life to her face. she was rigid now, and then suddenly she screamed. "stan! for god's sake, stan, don't take any more from the simian!" "let's go," the young lieutenant said quickly. "we've got the report and we'll forward it. there's no call to bait them." "shut up," the beefy one said. "don't tell me to shut up," the lieutenant said. he put his notebook away. "this man's never committed any crime. that's why he's on the road. they didn't know what else to do with him. we're supposed to keep them moving that's all. not hold them up because of personal vindictiveness." the beefy one's face was getting red. "don't use your big words on me, boy. i'll send you back to college." "he's getting punishment enough. you've got nothing against him, or the woman." the beefy one took a deep breath. "okay, lieutenant. but i'm going to drop a few words in the right place. i guess you know how the commissioner feels about crackpots." "i don't give a damn. come on, let's get out of here." the lieutenant looked at stan a moment. "you'd better move on, doctor." "thanks," stan said. "at the next snappy service maybe you can phone. that's an hour's authorized stop for specials. there's a government project in the hills nearby. you might be able to contact a doctor there." * * * * * the sage spread out to a blur. heat wavered up from the freeway. in the rear-view mirror he saw anna leaning back, her legs stretched out, her arms limp at her sides. she wasn't thinking about this with an historical perspective, that was the trouble. she had lost the saving sense of continuity with generations gone, which stretched like a lifeline across the frightening present. keep the perspective. wait it out. that was the only way. this was an historical phase, part of a cycle. stan couldn't blame any one. anxiety, suspicion of intellectuals and men of science--as though they had been any more responsible really than any one else--suspicion and fear. there always had to be whipping boys. in one form or another, he knew, it had happened many times before. another time of change and danger. there was a quicksand of fear under men's reasoning. when things were better, they hadn't remained better. when they were bad, they couldn't stay bad. wait it out. one thing he knew--neither he nor any other scientist could detach himself from life. the frightened policemen of the public conscience had made the mistake of thinking they could detach the scientist. _i'll not withdraw from it. all of it represents a necessary change. if not for the immediate better, then i'll be here for the immediate worst which will someday change into something better than ever._ but anna's tired voice was whispering in his ear. "first of all, we're individuals, men, women. we've got to fight, fight back!" "at what? ourselves?" a sign said: hal's snappy service. twenty-seven miles. she's right, he thought, and started slowing down. this is it. he wasn't going any farther until anna was examined, and he was given an okay to stop somewhere so she could rest. * * * * * it was a dusty oasis, an arid anachronism on the desert's edge. beyond it, the mountains blundered up like giants from a purplish haze, brooding and somehow threatening. groves of cottonwoods could be seen far ahead, and sprinklings of green reaching into the thinning sage. the old man shuffled out of the shade by the coke machine. behind him, through dusty glass, stan saw the blurred faces staring with still curiosity. the old man hesitated, then came around between the pumps to the driver's side. he was all stooped bone and leathery skin. his face, stan thought beneath the rising desperation, resembled an african ceremonial mask. to the left a ' fordster was cranked up for a grease job. but the only life around it was a scrawny dog lying out flat to get all the air possible on its ribby body, its tongue hanging out in the black grease. "the car's okay," stan said. "i just want to use your telephone." "doctor morrison, you'd better go on to salt lake city. that's an eight-hour stopover." "my wife needs a doctor's okay for a long rest. i can't take a chance on going clear to salt lake city." "but this is only an hour stop." stan got out and shoved past the old man. heat waves shivered up out of the concrete and through the soles of his shoes. the heat seared his dry throat and burned his lungs. anna wasn't even looking. she seemed to have forgotten him. almost everyone had forgotten him by now, he thought, forgotten doctor stanley morrison the man who had never been afraid to speak out and say what he thought, and think what he wanted to think. fifteen months with never more than an eight hour stopover. thought and self-regard frozen by perpetual motion, and shriveled by consequent neglect. only the old man remembered. that was odd. a man stepped into the doorway. he was lean and powerful with a long gaunt chewing jaw like that of a horse. his eyes were small and black, and he was grinning with anticipation. stan felt his stomach muscles tighten. behind the man, stan saw the kid. almost as tall as the man who was obviously his father, but rail-thin, like an emaciated duplicate of the man, a starved, frustrated shadow, grinning and feverishly picking at a pimple under his left ear. he carried a grease-gun cradled in his left arm as though it were a machine gun. "i'd like to use your phone, please," stan said. "my wife's ill. i want to phone the government project and see if i can get a doctor over here to look at her." "what seems to be troubling the missus?" "i don't know!" "then how do you know it's a serious sickness, crackpot?" "just let me use the phone? will you do that?" "they phoned in ahead, crackpot. said you might be a trouble-maker." "i don't want to make any trouble. i just want to use the phone!" "why? even if the doc came over, you wouldn't be here. he can't get here inside an hour. and that's all the longer you can stay here. you got to move on." "i'm coming in to use the phone," stan heard himself saying. he fought to keep the breathiness out of his voice, the trembling out of his throat. "i don't guess i'd want to have it said i was coddling a crackpot." "i never caused you any trouble." "you helped build hellbombs," the man said. he took the toothpick out of his mouth. "you crazy bastards got to be kept moving along the road." "how do you know what i did or didn't do?" "you're a crackpot." "i never helped build any kind of bomb," stan whispered. "but even if i did--" "you're one of them nuclear physicists." "i was an instructor at a university. i taught at a government school once too--for a while--" he stopped himself, realizing he was defending himself as though somehow he suspected his own guilt. "you taught other guys how to build hellbombs. who needs you and your kind, crackpot? we need your brains like we need a knife in the back." stan lunged forward. the kid yelled something in a high cracked voice as stan lashed out again. he felt his knuckles scrape across hard teeth. blood leaped from the man's upper lip in a thin crimson slash. his eyes widened with a grudging respect, then he snarled through the blood as he stumbled backward and off balance. he fell against the window and trying to regain his balance, reeled and went down in a welter of empty gallon oil cans. he gathered himself for an upward lunge. through the blood staining his teeth, he muttered, "by gawd, crackpot. i didn't think you had the guts!" stan glanced out the window and saw that anna was gone from the car. dimly, he heard the man saying he was going to beat hell out of the crackpot, going to beat the crackpot over the head and then the crackpot wouldn't be able to cook up any more dangerous ideas in it for a long, long time. anna may die now, stan thought as he stood there bent over a little, feeling his wet fists tightening. she may die now, because of a frustrated fool who doesn't know what else to do with himself on a hot and dull and empty afternoon. stan suddenly caught the flash of color out of the corner of his eye. he twisted, not thinking at all, and felt his fist sink into the kid's stomach. the kid fell, curled up among the empty oil cans. he writhed and moaned and held his stomach. "get up," stan yelled into the man's face. "get up--" the man came up all at once, and his weight hurled stan clear across the room. he felt the gum machine shatter under him, and the metal grinding into his side as he rolled. stan felt the grease-gun in his hand as he saw the man lifting the tire tool, and then stan swung the grease gun into the face, seeing the terrible grin, the blood-stained white smile. unrecognizable as it was, the man's face wouldn't go away. stan swung at it again. then he heard her voice, anna's voice, intense and alive, and there was a flash of anna the way he remembered her a thousand years ago, before they were put on the road. she was tearing at the man's face with her fingernails and kicking him savagely. stan had the man's shirt collar and it was ripping under his fingers as he slammed the head against the concrete floor. the thudding rhythm was coming up through his arm and throbbing behind his eyes. like drums, he thought as a sickening light flashed on the dusty glass, like primitive war drums beating out a dance of tribal doom. suddenly feeling sick and weak, he stood up and walked stiffly out into the sun. he leaned against the side of the building trying to keep from retching. anna touched his arm and he looked up, half blinded by the glare of the sun. her face was flushed and alive. she seemed ten years younger. "don't be sorry," she said. "be glad, stan." "they broke us," he whispered. "we've crawled into the cage." "it doesn't matter, stan, it doesn't matter what they do to us now! it's something to admit you're human, isn't it?" she was partly right at least. he felt both glad and sad. but in either case, it was the end of the road. he saw the old man lowering the hood of the special. he ran back between the pumps carrying a metal tool box. "i've fixed it," he said, breathing heavily. "now get out of here. push it to the limit. i broke the cut-off too. hurry it up!" "but what's the use?" stan said. "they'll get us sooner or later--" "they're not going to get you now, not if you stop reasoning everything out as though it were a problem in calculus! i've cut the remote control off, and the radar and radio. they won't know where you are. i've changed the license plate too. but hurry out of here before hal or his kid start phoning." "but being on the freeway," stan said, "they'll catch up with us! what's the use--" "stan!" anna said sharply. "can't you _see_? we're getting away!" "i don't want to run away from it," stan said. "you're not running away from anything," the old man said. "you'll find out. follow my directions and you'll find out. you're not running away. you can get out of the flood water for a while, sit on the bank, until the water drops and clears a little." stan looked into the old man's face a long moment. "who the hell are you anyway?" "that doesn't matter, doctor morrison. now will you get out of here! move on down the road!" stan finally nodded and took anna's arm and they started toward the special. "all right, but what about you?" he asked the old man. "i'll make out. you just be concerned about yourself, doctor morrison. this isn't the first time i've helped someone off the road. it won't be the last time either, i hope." he waved to them as the special, without any limit to its speed now except the limitations of a driver's nerve, roared away toward the mountains. * * * * * now the special became anonymous on the freeway, one of countless cars hurtling down the super ten-lane freeway, its license changed, its controls and checkers cut off, its sovereignty returned to it by a nameless old man, a box of wrenches, and a roll of wire. three hundred miles farther on, the freeway began a long banked curve; a thick wall of cottonwoods, willows and smaller brush lined the side where a creek rushed out of a cleft in the lower hills and ran along the freeway's edge. stan started to slow down. "there, that's it!" anna said, pointing excitedly. "the big rock, the three tall trees. there, between the rock and the tree. turn, stan. _turn!_" "but there isn't any road. there isn't--" "_turn!_" stan turned. he blinked as the special roared off the freeway and smashed through a solid wall of leaves, branches and brush. then they were on a narrow winding dirt road, dipping down into the stream where a foot of water ran over stones to create a fiord. it twisted up the other side, around the creek's edge, over stones and gravel, twisting tortuously upward and out of sight like a coiled rope. "go on, stan, keep going!" stan kept going. it demanded all his power of concentration just to stay on the road which was hardly more than a pathway through the rising mountains. he had no time to think, and had very little to say. some hundred and fifty miles farther into the mountains, at an altitude that bit into their lungs, they saw the marker almost buried in rocks at the left of the road. the place where the old man had told them to stop and wait. but they didn't have to wait. a man, lean and healthy for his age--which must have been at least sixty, stan thought--stepped from behind a rock, and came toward the special. he was smiling and he extended his hand. "doctor and mrs. morrison," he said. anna was already out of the car, shaking his hand. stan got out. he took a second look, then whispered: "doctor bergmann!" the man wore levis and a mackinaw, and he carried a rifle slung under one arm. "i wasn't expecting you to recognize me," he said as they shook hands. "i've lost about thirty-five pounds." he smiled again. "it's healthier up here." he walked around to the driver's side and opened the door. the motor was still running. stan realized then what bergmann was doing, and for some reason without definition he started to protest. bergmann was setting the automatic clutch and releasing the brake. the special started moving up the road, but there was no one inside to turn the wheel when it reached the hairpin turn about fifty feet ahead. stan watched the car gaining speed, its left door swinging like the door in a vacant house. he thought of stories he had heard about convicts finally released after many years, stunned, frightened by reality, begging to be returned to the restricted but understandable cell. then he smiled. anna smiled. the special, once you pushed the right button, could do almost everything by itself, feed itself gas, gain speed, shift its gears; but it didn't know when to turn to avoid self-destruction. stan winced slightly as the car lurched a little and then leaped out into space. he felt the black void opening under him as though he were still in the special. fifteen months. his ears were filled with the sudden screeching whine of the wheels against unresisting air, then the world seemed to burst with a thundering series of solid smashing roars which were quickly dissipated in the high mountain air. doctor bergmann went over to the edge and looked down. "that's the tenth one," he said. "we're going to send a work party down there in a few days to cover it all over with rocks. still, i doubt if we have to worry about them spotting the wreckage." he turned. "well, let's start hiking. it's still a few miles." "where," stan asked. "i've gone along this far. i've had no choice. but now what's it all about?" "didn't the old man tell you?" "no." "just remember, morrison. we're not running away. this is an old mormon trail. a lot of the old pioneers took it. that marker says that the williams-conner party camped here and was massacred by indians in . there's an old indian city at about three thousand feet. i guess we're the first ones to use it for maybe a thousand years. we've got an archeologist up there--michael hilliard--who's been going slightly crazy. anyway, we've got books up there, we raise most of our own food, and we've plenty of time to study and try to figure out where we made the big mistakes. we're really doing very well." "but what about the old man?" anna asked. bergmann chuckled. "arch has turned into a regular man of a thousand faces. he works along the freeways and watches for those who are at the breaking point and can't stay on the road any longer. some of those condemned to the freeways are criminals, others are fools or misguided zealots; and we've got to be careful not to wise those birds up by mistake. arch has an unerring instinct, and sending our people to us is his job." the three of them started walking up the old pioneer trail. "we made a lot of mistakes," bergmann said. "all of us, some more than others. you can't blame people for being afraid, suspicious of us. we _did_ unleash the potentialities for total destruction without ever thinking about the social implications or ever bothering to wonder about how our contributions would be used and controlled. "so we're off there waiting now. waiting and studying. someday they'll need us again. and we'll be ready." "but who was the old man?" anna asked. bergmann laughed. "only the greatest physicist of the age. remember arch hoffenstein?" stan put his arm over anna's shoulders and they walked on, and up. he had almost forgotten. but now he never would. somewhere, arch hoffenstein was hitch-hiking along the freeway with the ghost of galileo. available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/historyromanceof grif transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). oe ligatures have been expanded. the history and romance of crime from the earliest times to the present day the grolier society london [illustration: _an incident during the communal revolts of the twelfth century_ a noble being strangled in his castle by one of the men of the commune (town) in the twelfth century when the villages at the foot of the castles revolted and wrested charters from their lords, often peacefully but more frequently by bloodshed and brutal practices.] early french prisons le grand and le petit châtelets vincennes--the bastile--loches the galleys revolutionary prisons by major arthur griffiths late inspector of prisons in great britain author of "the mysteries of police and crime" "fifty years of public service," etc. the grolier society edition nationale limited to one thousand registered and numbered sets. number introduction the judicial administration of france had its origin in the feudal system. the great nobles ruled their estates side by side with, and not under, the king. with him the great barons exercised "high" justice, extending to life and limb. the seigneurs and great clerics dispensed "middle" justice and imposed certain corporal penalties, while the power of "low" justice, extending only to the _amende_ and imprisonment, was wielded by smaller jurisdictions. the whole history of france is summed up in the persistent effort of the king to establish an absolute monarchy, and three centuries were passed in a struggle between nobles, parliaments and the eventually supreme ruler. each jurisdiction was supported by various methods of enforcing its authority: all, however, had their prisons, which served many purposes. the prison was first of all a place of detention and durance where people deemed dangerous might be kept out of the way of doing harm and law-breakers could be called to account for their misdeeds. accused persons were in it held safely until they could be arraigned before the tribunals, and after conviction by legal process were sentenced to the various penalties in force. the prison was _de facto_ the high road to the scaffold on which the condemned suffered the extreme penalty by one or another of the forms of capital punishment, and death was dealt out indifferently by decapitation, the noose, the stake or the wheel. too often where proof was weak or wanting, torture was called in to assist in extorting confession of guilt, and again, the same hideous practice was applied to the convicted, either to aggravate their pains or to compel the betrayal of suspected confederates and accomplices. the prison reflected every phase of passing criminality and was the constant home of wrong-doers of all categories, heinous and venial. offenders against the common law met their just retribution. many thousands were committed for sins political and non-criminal, the victims of an arbitrary monarch and his high-handed, irresponsible ministers. the prison was the king's castle, his stronghold for the coercion and safe-keeping of all who conspired against his person or threatened his peace. it was a social reformatory in which he disciplined the dissolute and the wastrel, the loose-livers of both sexes, who were thus obliged to run straight and kept out of mischief by the stringent curtailment of their liberty. the prison, last of all, played into the hands of the rich against the poor, active champion of the commercial code, taking the side of creditors by holding all debtors fast until they could satisfy the legal, and at times illegal demands made upon them. various types of prisons were to be found in france, the simpler kind being gradually enlarged and extended, and more and more constantly utilised as time passed and society became more complex. all had common features and exercised similar discipline. all were of solid construction, relying upon bolts and bars, high walls and hard-hearted, ruthless jailers. the prison régime was alike in all; commonly starvation, squalor, the sickness of hope deferred, close confinement protracted to the extreme limits of human endurance in dark dungeons, poisonous to health and inducing mental breakdown. in all prisons, penalties followed the same grievous lines. culprits were subjected to degradation moral and physical, to the exposure of the _carcan_ and pillory. they made public reparation by the _amende honorable_, were flogged, mutilated, branded and tortured. prisons were to be met with throughout the length and breadth of france. the capital had many; every provincial city possessed one or more. in paris the principal prisons were the two châtelets, the gaols and, as we should say to-day, the police headquarters of the provost or chief magistrate of the city. for-l'Évêque was the bishops' court; the conciergerie, the guardroom of the king's palace, kept by the _concierge_, porter or janitor, really the mayor and custodian of the royal residence; in the temple the powerful and arrogant military order of the knights templars had its seat. the reigning sovereign relied upon the bastile, at first merely a rampart against invasion and rebellion, but presently exalted into the king's prison-house, the royal gaol and penitentiary. he had also the donjon of vincennes, which was first a place of defensive usefulness and next a place of restraint and coercion for state offenders. other prisons came into existence later: the madelonnettes, st. pélagie, bicêtre, the salpêtrière and st. lazare. all these have historic interest more or less pronounced and notable. all in their time were the scenes of strange, often terrible episodes and events. all serve to illustrate various curious epochs of the world's history, but mark more especially the rise, progress, aggrandisement and decadence and final fall of the french monarchy. contents chapter page introduction i. origins and early history ii. struggle with the sovereign iii. vincennes and the bastile iv. the rise of richelieu v. the people and the bastile vi. the man with the iron mask vii. the power of the bastile viii. the terror of poison ix. the horrors of the galleys x. the dawn of revolution xi. last days of the bastile list of illustrations incident during the communal revolts of the twelfth century _frontispiece_ isle st. marguerite _page_ the castle of st. andrÉ " the bastile " chateau d'if, marseilles " early french prisons chapter i origins and early history the feudal system--early prisons--classes of inmates--alike in aspect, similar in discipline--variety of penalties--chief prisons of paris in the middle ages--great and little châtelets--history and inmates--the conciergerie still standing--for-l'Évêque, the bishop's prison--the temple, prison of the knights templars--bicêtre--notable prisoners--salomon de caus, steam inventor--st. pélagie--st. lazare. let us consider the prisons of old france in the order of their antiquity, their size and their general importance in french history. first of all the two châtelets, the greater and less, le grand and le petit châtelet, of which the last named was probably the earliest in date of erection. antiquarians refer the petit châtelet to the roman period and state that its original use was to guard the entrance to paris when the city was limited to that small island in the seine which was the nucleus of the great capital of france. this fortress and bridge-head was besieged and destroyed by the normans but was subsequently rebuilt; and it is mentioned in a deed dated in which the king, philip augustus, took over the rights of justice, at a price, from the bishop of paris. it stood then on the south bank of the seine at the far end of the bridge long afterwards known as the petit pont. both bridge and castle were swept away in by an inundation and half a century elapsed before they were restored on such a firm basis as to resist any future overflowing of the seine. at this date its rôle as a fortress appears to have ceased and it was appropriated by charles v of france to serve as a prison and to overawe the students of the quartier latin. hugues aubriot, the same provost of paris who built the bastile, constructed several cells between the pillars supporting the petit châtelet and employed them for the confinement of turbulent scholars of the university. the grand châtelet was situated on the opposite, or northern bank of the river, facing that side of the island of the cité, or the far end of the pont au change on the same site as the present place du châtelet. like its smaller namesake it was also thought to have been a bridge-head or river-gate, although this is based on no authentic record. the first definite mention of the grand châtelet is in the reign of philip augustus after he created the courts of justice and headquarters of the municipality of paris. the chapel and confraternity of notaries was established here in . the jurisdiction of the provost of paris embraced all the functions of the police of later days. he was responsible for the good order and security of the city; he checked disturbances and called the riotous and disorderly to strict account. he was all powerful; all manner of offenders were haled before the tribunals over which he presided with fifty-six associate judges and assistants. the châtelet owned a king's procurator and four king's counsellors, a chief clerk, many receivers, bailiffs, ushers, gaolers and sixty sworn special experts, a surgeon and his assistants, including a mid-wife or accoucheuse, and _sergents à cheval_, or outdoor officers and patrols, over whom the procurator's authority was supreme. the procurator was also the guardian and champion of the helpless and oppressed, of deserted and neglected children and ill-used wives; he regulated the markets and supervised the guilds and corporations of trades and their operations, exposed frauds in buying and selling and saw that accurate weights and measures were employed in merchandising. the prisons of the two châtelets were dark, gruesome receptacles. contemporary prints preserve the grim features of the petit châtelet, a square, massive building of stone pierced with a few loopholes in its towers, a drawbridge with a portcullis giving access to the bridge. the grand châtelet was of more imposing architecture, with an elevated façade capped by a flat roof and having many "pepper pot" towers at the angles. the cells and chambers within were dark, dirty, ill-ventilated dens. air was admitted only from above and in such insufficient quantity that the prisoners were in constant danger of suffocation, while the space was far too limited to accommodate the numbers confined. the titles given to various parts of the interior of the grand châtelet will serve to illustrate the character of the accommodation. there was the _berceau_ or cradle, so called from its arched roof; the _boucherie_, with obvious derivation; the _chaîne_ room, otherwise _chêne_, from the fetters used or the oak beams built into it; the _fin d'aise_ or "end of ease," akin to the "little ease" of old london's newgate, a horrible and putrescent pigsty, described as full of filth and over-run with reptiles and with air so poisonous that a candle would not remain alight in it. a chamber especially appropriated to females was styled _la grieche_, an old french epithet for a shrew or vixen; other cells are known as _la gloriette_, _la barbarie_, _la barcane_ or _barbacane_, lighted by a small grating in the roof. the châtelet had its deep-down, underground dungeon, the familiar _oubliettes_ of every mediæval castle and monastery, called also _in pace_ because the hapless inmates were thrown into them to be forgotten and left to perish of hunger and anguish, but "in peace." the worst of these at the châtelet must have been _la fosse_, the bottom of which was knee deep in water, so that the prisoner was constantly soaked and it was necessary to stand erect to escape drowning; here death soon brought relief, for "none survived _la fosse_ for more than fifteen days." monstrous as it must appear, rent on a fixed scale was extorted for residence in these several apartments. these were in the so-called "honest" prisons. the _chaîne_ room, mentioned above, _la beauvoir_, _la motte_ and _la salle_ cost each individual four deniers (the twelfth part of a sou) for the room and two for a bed. in _la boucherie_ and _grieche_ it was two deniers for the room, but only one denier for a bed of straw or reeds. even in _la fosse_ and the _oubliettes_ payment was exacted, presumably in advance. some light is thrown by the ancient chronicles upon the prison system that obtained within the châtelet. the first principle was recognised that it was a place of detention only and not for the maltreatment of its involuntary guests. rules were made by the parliaments, the chief juridical authorities of paris, to soften the lot of the prisoners, to keep order amongst them and protect them from the cupidity of their gaolers. the governor was permitted to charge gaol fees, but the scale was strictly regulated and depended upon the status and condition of the individuals committed. thus a count or countess paid ten livres (about fifty francs), a knight banneret was charged twenty sous, a jew or jewess half that amount. prisoners who lay on the straw paid one sou. for half a bed the price was three sous and for the privilege of sleeping alone, five sous. the latest arrivals were obliged to sweep the floors and keep the prison rooms clean. it was ordered that the officials should see that the bread issued was of good quality and of the proper weight, a full pound and a half per head. the officials were to visit the prisons at least once a week and receive the complaints made by prisoners out of hearing of their gaolers. the hospitals were to be regularly visited and attention given to the sick. various charities existed to improve the prison diet: the drapers on their fête day issued bread, meat and wine; the watchmakers gave a dinner on easter day when food was seized and forfeited and a portion was issued to the pauper prisoners. in all this the little châtelet served as an annex to the larger prison. during their lengthened existence both prisons witnessed many atrocities and were disgraced by many dark deeds. one of the most frightful episodes was that following the blood-thirsty feuds between the armagnacs and the bourguignons in the early years of the fifteenth century. these two political parties fought for supreme authority in the city of paris, which was long torn by their dissensions. the armagnacs held the bastile but were dispossessed of it by the bourguignons, who were guilty of the most terrible excesses. they slaughtered five hundred and twenty of their foes and swept the survivors wholesale into the châtelet and the "threshold of the prison became the scaffold of , unfortunate victims." the bourguignons were not satisfied and besieged the place in due form; for the imprisoned armagnacs organised a defense and threw up a barricade upon the north side of the fortress, where they held out stoutly. the assailants at last made a determined attack with scaling ladders, by which they surmounted the walls sixty feet high, and a fierce and prolonged conflict ensued. when the attack was failing the bourguignons set fire to the prison and fought their way in, driving the besieged before them. many of the armagnacs sought to escape the flames by flinging themselves over the walls and were caught upon the pikes of the bourguignons "who finished them with axe and sword." among the victims were many persons of quality, two cardinals, several bishops, officers of rank, magistrates and respectable citizens. the garrison of the châtelet in those early days was entrusted to the archers of the provost's guard, the little châtelet being the provost's official residence. the guard was frequently defied by the turbulent population and especially by the scholars of the university of paris, an institution under the ecclesiastical authority and very jealous of interference by the secular arm. one provost in the fourteenth century, having caught a scholar in the act of stealing upon the highway, forthwith hanged him, whereupon the clergy of paris went in procession to the châtelet and denounced the provost. the king sided with them and the chief magistrate of the city was sacrificed to their clamor. another provost, who hanged two scholars for robbery, was degraded from his office, led to the gallows and compelled to take down and kiss the corpses of the men he had executed. the provosts themselves were sometimes unfaithful to their trust. one of them in the reign of philip the long, by name henri chaperel, made a bargain with a wealthy citizen who was in custody under sentence of death. the condemned man was allowed to escape and a friendless and obscure prisoner hanged in his place. it is interesting to note, however, that this henri chaperel finished on the gallows as did another provost, hugues de cruzy, who was caught in dishonest traffic with his prisoners. here the king himself had his share in the proceeds. a famous brigand and highwayman of noble birth, jourdain de lisle, the chief of a great band of robbers, bought the protection of the provost, and the châtelet refused to take cognizance of his eight crimes--any one of which deserved an ignominious death. it was necessary to appoint a new provost before justice could be meted out to jourdain de lisle, who was at last tied to the tail of a horse and dragged through the streets of paris to the public gallows. in the constant warfare between the provost and the people the latter did not hesitate to attack the prison fortress of the châtelet. in a body of insurgents collected under the leadership of two apostate priests who promised to meet them across the seas and conquer the holy land. when some of their number were arrested and thrown into the châtelet, the rest marched upon the prison, bent on rescue, and, breaking in, effected a general gaol delivery. this was not the only occasion in which the châtelet lost those committed to its safe-keeping. in the latter end of the sixteenth century the provost was one hugues de bourgueil, a hunch-back with a beautiful wife. among his prisoners was a young italian, named gonsalvi, who, on the strength of his nationality, gained the goodwill of catherine de medicis, the queen mother. the queen commended him to the provost, who lodged him in his own house, and gonsalvi repaid this kindness by running away with de bourgueil's wife. madame de bourgueil, on the eve of her elopement, gained possession of the prison keys and released the whole of the three hundred prisoners in custody, thus diverting the attention from her own escapade. the provost, preferring his duty to his wife, turned out with horse and foot, and pursued and recaptured the fugitive prisoners, while madame de bourgueil and her lover were allowed to go their own way. after this affair the king moved the provost's residence from the châtelet to the hôtel de hercule. references are found in the earlier records of the various prisoners confined in the châtelet. one of the earliest is a list of jews imprisoned for reasons not given. but protection was also afforded to this much wronged race, and once, towards the end of the fourteenth century, when the populace rose to rob and slaughter the jews, asylum was given to the unfortunates by opening to them the gates of the châtelet. about the same time a spanish jew and an habitual thief, one salmon of barcelona, were taken to the châtelet and condemned to be hanged by the heels between two large dogs. salmon, to save himself, offered to turn christian, and was duly baptised, the gaoler's wife being his godmother. nevertheless, within a week he was hanged "like a christian" (_chrétiennement_), under his baptismal name of nicholas. the jews themselves resented the apostasy of a co-religionist and it is recorded that four were detained in the châtelet for having attacked and maltreated salmon for espousing christianity. for this they were condemned to be flogged at all the street corners on four successive sundays; but when a part of the punishment had been inflicted they were allowed to buy off the rest by a payment of , francs in gold. the money was applied to the rebuilding of the petit pont. prisoners of war were confined there. eleven gentlemen accused of assassination were "long detained" in the châtelet and in the end executed. it continually received sorcerers and magicians in the days when many were accused of commerce with the devil. idle vagabonds who would not work were lodged in it. at this period paris and the provinces were terrorised by bands of brigands. some of the chief leaders were captured and carried to the châtelet, where they suffered the extreme penalty. the crime of poisoning, always so much in evidence in french criminal annals, was early recorded at the châtelet. in payment was authorised for three mounted sergeants of police who escorted from the prison at angers and le mans to the châtelet, two priests charged with having thrown poison into the wells, fountains and rivers of the neighborhood. one honoré paulard, a bourgeois of paris, was in thrown into the _fin d'aise_ dungeon of the châtelet for having poisoned his father, mother, two sisters and three other persons in order to succeed to their inheritance. out of consideration for his family connections he was not publicly executed but left to the tender mercies of the _fin d'aise_, where he died at the end of a month. the procureur of parliament was condemned to death with his wife ysabelete, a prisoner in the châtelet, whose former husband, also a procureur, they were suspected of having poisoned. on no better evidence than suspicion they were both sentenced to death--the husband to be hanged and the wife burned alive. offenders of other categories were brought to the châtelet. a superintendent of finances, prototype of fouquet, arrested by the provost pierre des fessarts, and convicted of embezzlement, met his fate in the châtelet. strange to say, des fessarts himself was arrested four years later and suffered on the same charge. great numbers of robbers taken red-handed were imprisoned--at one time two hundred thieves, murderers and highwaymen (_épieurs de grand chemin_). an auditor of the palace was condemned to make the _amende honorable_ in effigy; a figure of his body in wax being shown at the door of the chapel and then dragged to the pillory to be publicly exposed. clement marot, the renowned poet, was committed to the châtelet at the instance of the beautiful diane de poitiers for continually inditing fulsome verses in her praise. weary at last of her contemptuous silence he penned a bitter satire which diane resented by accusing him of lutheranism and of eating bacon in lent. marot's confinement in the châtelet inspired his famous poem _l'enfer_, wherein he compared the châtelet to the infernal regions and cursed the whole french penal system--prisoners, judges, lawyers and the cruelties of the "question." never from the advent of the reformation did protestants find much favor in france. in four hundred huguenots assembled for service in a house of the rue st. jacques and were attacked on leaving it by a number of the neighbors. they fought in self-defense and many made good their escape, but the remainder--one hundred and twenty persons, several among them being ladies of the court--were arrested by the _lieutenant criminel_ and carried to the châtelet. they were accused of infamous conduct and although they complained to the king they were sent to trial, and within a fortnight nearly all the number were burnt at the stake. another story runs that the _lieutenant criminel_ forced his way into a house in the marais where a number of huguenots were at table. they fled, but the hotel keeper was arrested and charged with having supplied meat in the daily bill of fare on a friday. for this he was conducted to the châtelet with his wife and children, a larded capon being carried before them to hold them up to the derision of the bystanders. the incident ended seriously, for the wretched inn-keeper was thrown into a dungeon and died there in misery. precedence has been given to the two châtelets in the list of ancient prisons in paris, but no doubt the conciergerie runs them close in point of date and was equally formidable. it originally was part of the royal palace of the old kings of france and still preserves as to site, and in some respects as to form, in the palais de justice one of the most interesting monuments in modern paris. "there survives a sense of suffocation in these buildings," writes philarète chasles. "here are the oldest dungeons of france. paris had scarcely begun when they were first opened." "these towers," says another frenchman, "the courtyard and the dim passage along which prisoners are still admitted, have tears in their very aspect." one of the greatest tragedies in history was played out in the conciergerie almost in our own days, thus bringing down the sad record of bitter sufferings inflicted by man upon man from the dark ages to the day of our much vaunted enlightenment. the conciergerie was the last resting place, before execution, of the hapless queen marie antoinette. when louis ix, commonly called saint louis, rebuilt his palace in the thirteenth century he constructed also his dungeons hard by. the _concierge_ was trusted by the kings with the safe-keeping of their enemies and was the governor of the royal prison. in he took the title of _bailli_ and the office lasted, with its wide powers often sadly abused, until the collapse of the monarchical régime. a portion of the original conciergerie as built in the garden of concierge is still extant. three of the five old towers, circular in shape and with pepper pot roofs, are standing. of the first, that of queen blanche was pulled down in and that of the inquisition in . the three now remaining are cæsar's tower, where the reception ward is situated on the very spot where damiens, the attempted regicide of louis xv, was interrogated while strapped to the floor; the tower of silver, the actual residence of "reine blanche" and the visiting room where legal advisers confer with their clients among the accused prisoners; and lastly the bon bec tower, once the torture chamber and now the hospital and dispensary of the prison. the cells and dungeons of the conciergerie, some of which might be seen and inspected as late as , were horrible beyond belief. clement marot said of it in his verse that it was impossible to conceive a place that more nearly approached a hell upon earth. the loathsomeness of its underground receptacles was inconceivable. it contained some of the worst specimens of the ill-famed _oubliettes_. an attempt has been made by some modern writers to deny the existence of these _oubliettes_, but all doubt was removed by discoveries revealed when opening the foundations of the bon bec tower. two subterranean pits were found below the ordinary level of the river seine and the remains of sharpened iron points protruded from their walls obviously intended to catch the bodies and tear the flesh of those flung into these cavernous depths. certain of these dungeons were close to the royal kitchens and were long preserved. they are still remembered by the quaint name of the mousetraps (or _souricières_) in which the inmates were caught and kept _au secret_, entirely separate and unable to communicate with a single soul but their immediate guardians and gaolers. the torture chamber and the whole paraphernalia for inflicting the "question" were part and parcel of every ancient prison. but the most complete and perfect methods were to be found in the conciergerie. as a rule, therefore, in the most heinous cases, when the most shocking crimes were under investigation, the accused was relegated to the conciergerie to undergo treatment by torture. it was so in the case of ravaillac who murdered henry iv; also the marchioness of brinvilliers and the poisoners; and yet again, of damiens who attempted the life of louis xv, and many more: to whom detailed references will be found in later pages. the for-l'Évêque, the bishop's prison, was situated in the rue st. germain-l'auxerrois, and is described in similar terms as the foregoing: "dark, unwholesome and over-crowded." in the court or principal yard, thirty feet long by eighteen feet wide, some four or five hundred prisoners were constantly confined. the outer walls were of such a height as to forbid the circulation of fresh air and there was not enough to breathe. the cells were more dog-holes than human habitations. in some only six feet square, five prisoners were often lodged at one and the same time. others were too low in the ceiling for a man to stand upright and few had anything but borrowed light from the yard. many cells were below the ground level and that of the river bed, so that water filtered in through the arches all the year round, and even in the height of summer the only ventilation was by a slight slit in the door three inches wide. "to pass by an open cell door one felt as if smitten by fire from within," says a contemporary writer. access to these cells was by dark, narrow galleries. for long years the whole prison was in such a state of dilapidation that ruin and collapse were imminent. later for-l'Évêque received insolvent debtors--those against whom _lettres de cachet_ were issued, and actors who were evil livers. it was the curious custom to set these last free for a few hours nightly in order to play their parts at the theatres; but they were still in the custody of the officer of the watch and were returned to gaol after the performance. many minor offenders guilty of small infractions of the law, found lodging in the for-l'Évêque. side by side with thieves and roysterers were dishonest usurers who lent trifling sums. all jurisdictions, all authorities could commit to the for-l'Évêque, the judges of inferior tribunals, ministers of state, auditors, grand seigneurs. the prison régime varied for this various population, but poor fare and poorer lodgings were the fate of the larger number. those who could pay found chambers more comfortable, decently furnished, and palatable food. order was not always maintained. more than once mutinies broke out, generally on account of the villainous ration of bread issued, and it was often found necessary to fire upon the prisoners to subdue them. when the knights templars received permission to settle in paris in the twelfth century, they gradually consolidated their power in the marais, the marshy ground to the eastward of the seine, and there laid the foundations of a great stronghold on which the temple prison was a prominent feature. the knights wielded sovereign power with the rights of high justice and the very kings of france themselves bent before them. at length the arrogance of the order brought it the bitter hostility of philippe le bel who, in , broke the power of the order in france. they were pursued and persecuted. their grand master was tortured and executed while the king administered their estate. the prison of the temple with its great towers and wide encircling walls became a state prison, the forerunner of vincennes and the bastile. it received, as a rule, the most illustrious prisoners only, dukes and counts and sovereign lords, and in the revolutionary period it gained baleful distinction as the condemned cell, so to speak, of louis xvi and marie antoinette. the prison of bicêtre, originally a bishop's residence and then successively a house of detention for sturdy beggars and a lunatic asylum, was first built at the beginning of the thirteenth century. it was owned by john, bishop of winchester in england, and its name was a corruption of the word winchester--"vinchester" and so "bichestre" and, eventually, "bicêtre." it was confiscated to the king in the fourteenth century and charles vi dated his letters from that castle. it fell into a ruinous state in the following years and nothing was done to it until it was rebuilt by louis xiii as a hospital for invalid soldiers and became, with the salpêtrière, the abode of the paupers who so largely infested paris. the hospital branch of the prison was used for the treatment of certain discreditable disorders, sufferers from which were regularly flogged at the time of their treatment by the surgeons. an old writer stigmatised the prison as a terrible ulcer that no one dared look at and which poisoned the air for four hundred yards around. bicêtre was the home for all vagabonds and masterless men, the sturdy beggars who demanded alms sword in hand, and soldiers who, when their pay was in arrears, robbed upon the highway. epileptics and the supposed mentally diseased, whether they were actually proved so or not, were committed to bicêtre and after reception soon degenerated into imbeciles and raging lunatics. the terrors of underground bicêtre have been graphically described by masers-latude, who had personal experience of them. this man, danry or latude, has been called a fictitious character, but the memoirs attributed to him are full of realism and cannot be entirely neglected. he says of bicêtre: "in wet weather or when it thawed in winter, water streamed from all parts of our cell. i was crippled with rheumatism and the pains were such that i was sometimes whole weeks without getting up. the window-sill guarded by an iron grating gave on to a corridor, the wall of which was placed exactly opposite at a height of ten feet. a glimmer of light came through this aperture and was accompanied by snow and rain. i had neither fire nor artificial light and prison rags were my only clothing. to quench my thirst i sucked morsels of ice broken off with the heel of my wooden shoe. if i stopped up the window i was nearly choked by the effluvium from the cellars. insects stung me in the eyes. i had always a bad taste in my mouth and my lungs were horribly oppressed. i was detained in that cell for thirty-eight months enduring the pangs of hunger, cold and damp. i was attacked by scurvy and was presently unable to sit or rise. in ten days my legs and thighs were swollen to twice their ordinary size. my body turned black. my teeth loosened in their sockets and i could no longer masticate. i could not speak and was thought to be dead. then the surgeon came, and seeing my state ordered me to be removed to the infirmary." an early victim of bicêtre was the protestant frenchman, salomon de caus, who had lived much in england and germany and had already, at the age of twenty, gained repute as an architect, painter and engineer. one of his inventions was an apparatus for forcing up water by a steam fountain; and that eminent scientist, arago, declares that de caus preceded watt as an inventor of steam mechanisms. it was de caus's misfortune to fall desperately in love with the notorious marion delorme. when his attentions became too demonstrative this fiendish creature applied for a _lettre de cachet_ from richelieu. de caus was invited to call upon the cardinal, whom he startled with his marvellous schemes. richelieu thought himself in the presence of a madman and forthwith ordered de caus to bicêtre. two years later marion delorme visited bicêtre and was recognised by de caus as she passed his cell. he called upon her piteously by name, and her companion, the english marquis of worcester, asked if she knew him, but she repudiated the acquaintance. lord worcester was, however, attracted by the man and his inventions, and afterwards privately visited him, giving his opinion later that a great genius had run to waste in this mad-house. bicêtre was subsequently associated with the galleys and was starting point of the chain of convicts directed upon the arsenals of toulon, rochefort, lorient and brest. a full account of these modern prisons is reserved for a later chapter. the prison of sainte pélagie was founded in the middle of the seventeenth century by a charitable lady, marie l'hermite, in the faubourg sainte marcel, as a refuge for ill-conducted women, those who came voluntarily and those who were committed by dissatisfied fathers or husbands. it became, subsequently, a debtors' prison. the madelonnettes were established about the same time and for the same purpose, by a wine merchant, robert montri, devoted to good works. the prison of st. lazare, to-day the great female prison of paris, appears to have been originally a hospital for lepers, and was at that time governed by the ecclesiastical authority. it was the home of various communities, till in the lepers disappeared, and it became a kind of seminary or place of detention for weak-minded persons and youthful members of good position whose families desired to subject them to discipline and restraint. the distinction between st. lazare and the bastile was well described by a writer who said, "if i had been a prisoner in the bastile i should on release have taken my place among _genres de bien_ (persons of good social position) but on leaving lazare i should have ranked with the _mauvais sujets_ (ne'er do weels)." a good deal remains to be said about st. lazare in its modern aspects. chapter ii struggle with the sovereign provincial prisons--loches, in touraine, still standing--favorite gaol of louis xi--the iron cage--cardinal la balue, the duc d'alençon, comines, the bishops--ludovico sforza, duke of milan, and his mournful inscriptions--diane de poitiers and her father--mont st. michel--louis napoleon--count st. pol--strongholds of touraine--catherine de medicis--massacre of st bartholomew--murder of duc de guise--chambord--amboise--angers--pignerol--exiles and the isle st. marguerite. the early history of france is made up of the continuous struggle between the sovereign and the people. the power of the king, though constantly opposed by the great vassals and feudal lords, steadily grew and gained strength. the state was meanwhile torn with dissensions and passed through many succeeding periods of anarchy and great disorders. the king's power was repeatedly challenged by rivals and pretenders. it was weakened, and at times eclipsed, but in the long run it always triumphed. the king always vindicated his right to the supreme authority and, when he could, ruled arbitrarily and imperiously, backed and supported by attributes of autocracy which gradually overcame all opposition and finally established a despotic absolutism. the principal prisons of france were royal institutions. two in particular, the chief and most celebrated, vincennes and the bastile, were seated in the capital. with these i shall deal presently at considerable length. many others, provincial strongholds and castles, were little less conspicuous and mostly of evil reputation. i shall deal with those first. loches in the touraine, some twenty-five miles from tours, will go down in history as one of the most famous, or more exactly, infamous castles in mediæval france. it was long a favored royal palace, a popular residence with the plantagenet and other kings, but degenerated at length under louis xi into a cruel and hideous gaol. it stands to-day in elevated isolation dominating a flat, verdant country, just as the well-known mont st. michel rises above the sands on the normandy coast. the most prominent object is the colossal white donjon, or central keep, esteemed the finest of its kind in france, said to have been erected by fulk nerra, the celebrated "black count," count of anjou in the eleventh century. it is surrounded by a congeries of massive buildings of later date. just below it are the round towers of the martelet, dating from louis xi, who placed within them the terrible dungeons he invariably kept filled. at the other end of the long lofty plateau is another tower, that of agnes sorel, the personage whose influence over charles vii, although wrongly acquired, was always exercised for good, and whose earnest patriotism inspired him to strenuous attempts to recover france from its english invaders. historians have conceded to her a place far above the many kings' mistresses who have reigned upon the left hand of the monarchs of france. agnes was known as the lady of "beauté-sur-marne," "a beauty in character as well as in aspect," and is said to have been poisoned at junièges. she was buried at loches with the inscription, still legible, "a sweet and simple dove whiter than swans, redder than the flame." the face, still distinguishable, preserves the "loveliness of flowers in spring." after the death of charles vii, the priests of saint-ours desired to expel this tomb. but louis xi was now on the throne. he had not hesitated to insult agnes sorel while living, upbraiding her openly and even, one day at court, striking her in the face with his glove, but he would only grant their request on condition that they surrender the many rich gifts bestowed upon them at her hands. it is, however, in its character as a royal gaol and horrible prison house that loches concerns us. louis xi, saturnine and vindictive, found it exactly suited to his purpose for the infliction of those barbarous and inhuman penalties upon those who had offended him, that must ever disgrace his name. the great donjon, already mentioned, built by fulk nerra, the "black count," had already been used by him as a prison and the rooms occupied by the scottish guard are still to be seen. the new tower at the northwest angle of the fortress was the work of louis and on the ground floor level is the torture chamber, with an iron bar recalling its ancient usage. below are four stories, one beneath the other. these dungeons, entered by a subterranean door give access to the vaulted semi-dark interior. above this gloomy portal is scratched the jesting welcome, "_entrez messieurs--ches le roi nostre maistre_,"--"come in, the king is at home." at this gateway the king stood frequently with his chosen companions, his barber and the common hangman, to gloat over the sufferings of his prisoners. in a cell on the second story from the bottom, the iron cage was established, so fiendishly contrived for the unending pain of its occupant. comines, the "father of modern historians," gives in his memoirs a full account of this detestable place of durance. comines fell into disgrace with anne of beaujeu by fomenting rebellion against her administration as regent. he fled and took refuge with the duke de bourbon, whom he persuaded to go to the king, the infant charles viii, to complain of anne's misgovernment. comines was dismissed by the duke de bourbon and took service with the duke d'orleans. their intrigues were secretly favored by the king himself, who, as he grew older, became impatient of the wise but imperious control of anne of beaujeu. in concert with some other nobles, comines plotted to carry off the young king and place him under the guardianship of the duke d'orleans. although charles was a party to the design he punished them when it failed. comines was arrested at amboise and taken to loches, where he was confined for eight months. then by decree of the paris parliament his property was confiscated and he was brought to paris to be imprisoned in the conciergerie. there he remained for twenty months, and in march, , was condemned to banishment to one of his estates for ten years and to give bail for his good behavior to the amount of , golden crowns. he was forgiven long before the end of his term and regained his seat and influence in the king's council of state. "the king," says comines, "had ordered several cruel prisons to be made; some were cages of iron and some of wood, but all were covered with iron plates both within and without, with terrible locks, about eight feet wide and seven feet high; the first contriver of them was the bishop of verdun (guillaume d'haraucourt) who was immediately put into the first of them, where he continued fourteen years. many bitter curses he has had since his invention, and some from me as i lay in one of them eight months together during the minority of our present king. he (louis xi) also ordered heavy and terrible fetters to be made in germany and particularly a certain ring for the feet which was extremely hard to be opened and fitted like an iron collar, with a thick weighty chain and a great globe of iron at the end of it, most unreasonably heavy, which engine was called the king's nets. however, i have seen many eminent men, deserving persons in these prisons with these nets about their legs, who afterwards came out with great joy and honor and received great rewards from the king." another occupant beside d'haraucourt, of this intolerable den, so limited in size that "no person of average proportions could stand up comfortably or be at full length within," was cardinal la balue,--for some years after . these two great ecclesiastics had been guilty of treasonable correspondence with the duke of burgundy, then at war with louis xi. the treachery was the more base in la balue, who owed everything to louis, who had raised him from a tailor's son to the highest dignities in the church and endowed him with immense wealth. louis had a strong bias towards low-born men and "made his servants, heralds and his barbers, ministers of state." louis would have sent this traitor to the scaffold, but ever bigoted and superstitious, he was afraid of the pope, paul ii, who had protested against the arrest of a prelate and a prince of the church. he kept d'haraucourt, the bishop of verdun, in prison for many years, for the most part at the bastile while cardinal la balue was moved to and fro: he began at loches whence, with intervals at onzain, montpaysan, and plessis-lez-tours, he was brought periodically to the bastile in order that his tormentor might gloat personally over his sufferings. this was the servant of whom louis once thought so well that he wrote of him as "a good sort of devil of a bishop just now, but there is no saying what he may grow into by and by." he endured the horrors of imprisonment until within three years of the death of the king, who, after a long illness and a paralytic seizure, yielded at last to the solicitations of the then pope, sixtus iv, to release him. the "bishops' prison" is still shown at loches, a different receptacle from the cages and dungeons occupied by cardinal la balue and the bishop of verdun. these other bishops did their own decorations akin to sforza's, but their rude presentment was of an altar and cross roughly depicted on the wall of their cell. some confusion exists as to their identity, but they are said to have been de pompadour, bishop of peregneux, and de chaumont, bishop of montauban, and their offense was complicity in the conspiracy for which comines suffered. if this were so it must have been after the reign of louis xi. among the many victims condemned by louis xi to the tender mercies of loches, was the duc d'alençon, who had already been sentenced to death in the previous reign for trafficking with the english, but whose life had been spared by charles vii, to be again forfeited to louis xi, for conspiracy with the duke of burgundy. his sentence was commuted to imprisonment in loches. a few more words about loches. descending more than a hundred steps we reach the dungeon occupied by ludovico sforza, called "il moro," duke of milan, who had long been in conflict with france. the epithet applied to him was derived from the mulberry tree, which from the seasons of its flowers and its fruit was taken as an emblem of "prudence." the name was wrongly supposed to be due to his dark moorish complexion. after many successes the fortune of war went against sforza and he was beaten by trionlzio, commanding the french army, who cast him into the prison of novara. il moro was carried into france, his destination being the underground dungeon at loches. much pathos surrounds the memory of this illustrious prisoner, who for nine years languished in a cell so dark that light entered it only through a slit in fourteen feet of rock. the only spot ever touched by daylight is still indicated by a small square scratched on the stone floor. ludovico sforza strove to pass the weary hours by decorating his room with rough attempts at fresco. the red stars rendered in patterns upon the wall may still be seen, and among them, twice repeated, a prodigious helmet giving a glimpse through the casque of the stern, hard looking face inside. a portrait of il moro is extant at the certosa, near pavia, and has been described as that of a man "with the fat face and fine chin of the elderly napoleon, the beak-like nose of wellington, a small, querulous, neat-lipped mouth and immense eyebrows stretched like the talons of an eagle across the low forehead." ludovico sforza left his imprint on the walls of this redoubtable gaol and we may read his daily repinings in the mournful inscriptions he recorded among the rough red decorations. one runs: "my motto is to arm myself with patience, to bear the troubles laid upon me." he who would have faced death eagerly in open fight declares here that he was "assailed by it and could not die." he found "no pity; gaiety was banished entirely from his heart." at length, after struggling bravely for nearly nine years he was removed from the lower dungeons to an upper floor and was permitted to exercise occasionally in the open air till death came, with its irresistible order of release. the picture of his first passage through paris to his living tomb has been admirably drawn:--"an old french street surging with an eager mob, through which there jostles a long line of guards and archers; in their midst a tall man dressed in black camlet, seated on a mule. in his hands he holds his biretta and lifts up unshaded his pale, courageous face, showing in all his bearing a great contempt for death. it is ludovico, duke of milan, riding to his cage at loches." it is not to the credit of louis xii and his second wife, anne of brittany, widow of his predecessor charles viii, that they often occupied loches as a royal residence during the incarceration of ludovico sforza, and made high festival upstairs while their wretched prisoner languished below. the rebellion of the constable de bourbon against francis i, in , implicated two more bishops, those of puy and autun. bourbon aspired to create an independent kingdom in the heart of france and was backed by the emperor charles v. the sieur de brézé, seneschal of normandy, the husband of the famous diane de poitiers, revealed the conspiracy to the king, francis i, unwittingly implicating jean de poitiers, his father-in-law. bourbon, flying to one of his fortified castles, sent the bishop of autun to plead for him with the king, who only arrested the messenger. bourbon, continuing his flight, stopped a night at puy in auvergne, and this dragged in the second bishop. jean de poitiers, seigneur de st. vallier, was also thrown into loches, whence the prisoner appealed to his daughter and his son-in-law. "madame," he wrote to diane, "here am i arrived at loches as badly handled as any prisoner could be. i beg of you to have so much pity as to come and visit your poor father." diane strove hard with the pitiless king, who only pressed on the trial, urging the judges to elicit promptly all the particulars and the names of the conspirators, if necessary by torture. st. vallier's sentence was commuted to imprisonment, "between four walls of solid masonry with but one small slit of window." the constable de bourbon made st. vallier's release a condition of submission, and diane de poitiers, ever earnestly begging for mercy, won pardon at length, which she took in person to her father's gloomy cell, where his hair had turned white in the continual darkness. the wretched inmates of loches succeeded each other, reign after reign in an interminable procession. one of the most ill-used was de rochechouart, nephew of the cardinal de la rochefoucauld, who was mixed up in a court intrigue in and detained in loches with no proof against him in the hopes of extorting a confession. mont st. michel as a state prison is of still greater antiquity than loches, far older than the stronghold for which it was admirably suited by its isolated situation on the barren sea shore. it is still girt round with mediæval walls from which rise tall towers proclaiming its defensive strength. its church and benedictine monastery are of ancient foundation, dating back to the eighth century. it was taken under the especial protection of duke rollo and contributed shipping for the invading hosts of william the conqueror. later, in the long conflict with the english, when their hosts over-ran normandy, mont st. michel was the only fortress which held out for the french king. the origin of its dungeons and _oubliettes_ is lost in antiquity. it had its cage like loches, built of metal bars, but for these solid wooden beams were afterwards substituted. modern sentiment hangs about the citadel of ham near amiens, as the prison house of louis napoleon and his companions, generals cavaignac, changarnier and lamoricière, after his raid upon boulogne, in , when he prematurely attempted to seize supreme power in france and ignominiously failed. ham had been a place of durance for political purposes from the earliest times. there was a castle before the thirteenth century and one was erected on the same site in by the count st. pol, whom louis xi beheaded. the motto of the family "_mon mieux_" (my best) may still be read engraved over the gateway. another version is to the effect that st. pol was committed to the bastile and suffered within that fortress-gaol. he appears to have been a restless malcontent forever concerned in the intrigues of his time, serving many masters and betraying all in turn. he gave allegiance now to france, now england, now burgundy and lorraine, but aimed secretly to make himself an independent prince trusting to his great wealth, his ambitious self-seeking activity and his unfailing perfidies. in the end the indignant sovereigns turned upon him and agreed to punish him. st. pol finding himself in jeopardy fled from france after seeking for a safe conduct through burgundy. charles the bold replied by seizing his person and handing him over to louis xi, who had claimed the prisoner. "i want a head like his to control a certain business in hand; his body i can do without and you may keep it," was louis's request. st. pol, according to this account, was executed on the place de la grève. it may be recalled that ham was also for a time the prison of joan of arc; and many more political prisoners, princes, marshals of france, and ministers of state were lodged there. the smiling verdant valley of the loire, which flows through the historic province of touraine, is rich in ancient strongholds that preserve the memories of mediæval france. it was the home of those powerful feudal lords, the turbulent vassals who so long contended for independence with their titular masters, weak sovereigns too often unable to keep them in subjection. they raised the round towers and square impregnable donjons, resisting capture in the days before siege artillery, all of which have their gruesome history, their painful records showing the base uses which they served, giving effect to the wicked will of heartless, unprincipled tyrants. thus, as we descend the river, we come to blois, with its spacious castle at once formidable and palatial, stained with many blood-thirsty deeds when vicious and unscrupulous kings held their court there. great personages were there imprisoned and sometimes assassinated. at first the fief of the counts of blois, it later passed into the possession of the crown and became the particular property of the dukes of orleans. it was the favorite residence of that duke who became king louis xii of france, and his second queen, anne of brittany. his son, francis i, enlarged and beautified it, and his son again, henry ii, married a wife, catherine de medicis, who was long associated with blois and brought much evil upon it. catherine is one of the blackest female figures in french history; "niece of a pope, mother of four valois, a queen of france, widow of an ardent enemy of the huguenots, an italian catholic, above all a medicis," hers was a dissolute wicked life, her hands steeped in blood, her moral character a reproach to womankind. her favorite device was "_odiate e aspettate_," "hate and wait," and when she called anyone "friend" it boded ill for him; she was already plotting his ruin. she no doubt inspired, and is to be held responsible for the massacre of st. bartholomew, and the murder of the duc de guise in this very castle of blois was largely her doing. it was one of the worst of the many crimes committed in the shameful reign of her son henry iii, the contemptible king with his unnatural affections, his effeminate love of female attire, his little dogs, his loathsome favorites and his nauseating mockeries of holiness. his court was a perpetual scene of intrigue, conspiracy, superstition, the lowest vices, cowardly assassinations and murderous duels. one of the most infamous of these was a fight between three of his particular associates and three of the guises, when four of the combatants were killed. the famous league of the "sixteen," headed by the duc de guise, would have carried henry iii back to paris and held him there a prisoner, but the king was resolved to strike a blow on his own behalf and determined to kill guise. the states general was sitting at blois and guise was there taking the leading part. the famous crillon, one of his bravest soldiers, was invited to do the deed but refused, saying he was a soldier and not an executioner. then one of henry's personal attendants offered his services with the forty-five guards, and it was arranged that the murder should be committed in the king's private cabinet. guise was summoned to an early council, but the previous night he had been cautioned by a letter placed under his napkin. "he would not dare," guise wrote underneath the letter and threw it under the table. next morning he proceeded to the cabinet undeterred. the king had issued daggers to his guards, saying, "guise or i must die," and went to his prayers. when guise lifted the curtain admitting him into the cabinet one of the guards stabbed him in the breast. a fierce struggle ensued, in which the duke dragged his murderers round the room before they could dispatch him. "the beast is dead, so is the poison," was the king's heartless remark, and he ran to tell his mother that he was "once more master of france." this cowardly act did not serve the king, for it stirred up the people of paris, who vowed vengeance. henry at once made overtures to the huguenots and next year fell a victim to the knife of a fanatic monk at saint clou. blois ceased to be the seat of the court after henry iii. louis xiii, when he came to the throne, imprisoned his mother marie de medicis there. it was a time of great political stress when executions were frequent, and much sympathy was felt for marie de medicis. a plot was set on foot to release her from blois. a party of friends arranged the escape. she descended from her window by a rope ladder, accompanied by a single waiting-woman. many accidents supervened: there was no carriage, the royal jewels had been overlooked, time was lost in searching for the first and recovering the second, but at length marie was free to continue her criminal machinations. her chief ally was gaston d'orleans, who came eventually to live and die on his estate at blois. he was a cowardly, self indulgent prince but had a remarkable daughter, marie de montpensier, commonly called "la grande mademoiselle," who was the heroine of many stirring adventures, some of which will be told later on. not far from blois are chambord, an ancient fortress, first transformed into a hunting lodge and later into a magnificent palace, a perfect wilderness of dressed stone; chaumont, the birth-place of cardinal d'amboise and at one time the property of catherine de medicis; amboise, the scene of the great huguenot massacre of which more on a later page; chenonceaux, henri ii's gift to diane de poitiers, which catherine took from her, and in which mary queen of scots spent a part of her early married life; langeais, an angevin fortress of the middle ages; azay-le-rideau, a perfect renaissance chateau; fontevrault, where several plantagenet kings found burial, and chinon, a triple castle now irretrievably ruined, to which jeanne d'arc came seeking audience of the king, when charles vii formally presented her with a suit of knight's armor and girt on her the famous sword, said to have been picked up by charles martel on the field of tours after that momentous victory which checked the moorish invasion, and but for which the dominion of islam would probably have embraced western europe. two other remarkable prison castles must be mentioned here, amboise and angers. the first named is still a conspicuous object in a now peaceful neighborhood, but it offers few traces of antiquity, although it is full of bloody traditions. its most terrible memory is that of the amboise conspiracy organised by the huguenots in , and intended to remove the young king, francis ii, from the close guardianship of the guises. the real leader was the prince de condé, known as "the silent captain." the ostensible chief was a protestant gentleman of perigord, named renaudie, a resolute, intelligent man, stained with an evil record, having been once sentenced and imprisoned for the crime of forgery. he was to appear suddenly at the castle at the head of fifteen hundred devoted followers, surprise the guises and seize the person of the young king. one of their accomplices, a lawyer, or according to another account, a certain captain lignières, was alarmed and betrayed the conspirators. preparations were secretly made for defence, renaudie was met with an armed force and killed on the spot, and his party made prisoners by lots, as they appeared. all were forthwith executed, innocent and guilty, even the peasants on their way to market. they were hanged, decapitated or drowned. the court of the castle and the streets of the town ran with blood until the executioners, sated with the slaughter, took to sewing up the survivors in sacks and throwing them into the river from the bridge garnished with gibbets, and ghastly heads impaled on pikes. a balcony to this day known as the "grille aux huguenots" still exists, on which catherine de medicis and her three sons, francis ii, the reigning monarch, charles, afterwards the ninth king of that name, and henry ii, witnessed the massacre in full court dress. mary, queen of scots, the youthful bride of her still younger husband, was also present. the prince de condé had been denounced, but there was no positive evidence against him and he stoutly denied his guilt, and in the presence of the whole court challenged any accuser to single combat. no one took up the glove and he remained free until a fresh conspiracy, stimulated by detestation of the atrocities committed by the guises, seriously compromised the prince. condé was arrested at orleans, found guilty of treason and sentenced to death. he was saved by the death of francis. mary stuart afterward returned to scotland to pass through many stormy adventures and end her life on the scaffold. the fiendish butchery just described was the last great tragedy amboise witnessed, but it received one or two notable prisoners as time went on, more particularly fouquet, the fraudulent superintendent of finances whom louis xiv pursued to the bitter end; and lauzun le beau, the handsome courtier who flew too high "with vaulting ambition, but fell" into the depths of a dungeon. a detailed account of both these cases will be found in another chapter. in quite recent years amboise was occupied by a very different prisoner, the intrepid arab leader abd-el-kader, who after his capture by the duc d'aumale in , in the last algerian war, was interred in the heart of france in full view of the so-called "arab camp" where his saracen ancestors had gone so near to enslaving christian europe. angers, once called black angers, from the prevailing hue of its dark slate buildings, was the capital of anjou and the seat of its dukes, so nearly allied with the english plantagenet dynasty. when henry ii of england held his court there, angers was reputed second only to london in brilliancy and importance. the french king, louis xi, after the expulsion of the english, joined the dukedom of anjou to the kingdom of france. the venerable castle, a most striking object with its alternate bands of white stone let in between black rough slate, is still considered from its massive proportions and perfect preservation the finest feudal castle in france. the part overlooking the river, which was the palace of the counts, is now in ruins, but the high tower called du moulin or du diable, and the south tower called la tour dixsept, which contains the old dungeons of the state prisons, is still standing. the miserable fate of their sad occupants may still be noted, and the rings to which they were chained still remain embedded in the rocky walls and the stone floors. [illustration: _the isle st. marguerite_ one of two rocky, pine-clad islets near the shore at cannes, and has an ancient history. francis i began his captivity here after the battle of pavia. marshal bazaine was also imprisoned here. it was at one time the prison where the mysterious "man with the iron mask" was confined.] three famous prisons in their way were pignerol, exiles and the island fortress of st. marguerite. pignerol was a fortified frontier town of piedmont, which was for some time french property, half bought and half stolen from italy. it stands on the lower slopes of the southern alps, twenty miles from turin, fifty from nice and ninety east of grenoble. it was a stronghold of the princes of savoy, capable of effective defence, with a small red-roofed tower and many tall campaniles gathering round an inner citadel, raised on a commanding height. this central keep is a mass of rambling buildings with solid buttressed walls, essentially a place of arms. pignerol has three principal gateways. one served for the road coming from the westward and was called the gate of france; another from the eastward, was that of turin; and the third was a "safety" or "secret" gate, avoiding the town and giving upon the citadel. this last gate was opened rarely and only to admit a prisoner brought privately by special escort. it was a french garrison town inhabited largely by italians. there was a french governor in supreme command, also a king's lieutenant who was commandant of the citadel, and the head gaoler, who held the prison proper; and these three officials constituted a sovereign council of war. exiles was an unimportant stronghold, a fort shaped like a five pointed star, surrounding a small château with two tall towers which served as prisons. st. marguerite is one of the iles de lerins, a couple of rocky pine clad islets facing the now prosperous southern resort of cannes and only fifteen hundred yards from the shore. the two islands called respectively st. honorat and st. marguerite have each an ancient history. the first was named after a holy man who early in the fifth century established a monastery of great renown, while upon the neighboring island he struck a well which yielded a miraculous flow of sweet water. francis i of france began his captivity here after his crushing defeat at the battle of pavia. the royal fort at the eastern end of st. marguerite was for some time the abode of the so-called "man with the iron mask," and many scenes of the apocryphal stories of that exploded mystery are laid here. the island fortress became to some extent famous in our own day by being chosen as the place of confinement for marshal bazaine, after his conviction by court martial for the alleged treacherous surrender of metz to the germans. as we know, he did not remain long a prisoner, his escape having been compassed by an american friend. chapter iii vincennes and the bastile vincennes and the bastile--vincennes described--castle and woods--torture--methods and implements--_amende honorable_--flagellation and mutilations--notable inmates--prince de condé--origin of the bastile--earliest records--hugues d'aubriot--last english garrison--sir john falstaff--frequented by louis xi and anne of beaujeau--charles viii--francis i--persecution of the huguenots--henry ii, diane de poitiers, and catherine de medicis--her murderous oppressions--bastile her favorite prison. we come now to the two great metropolitan prisons that played so large a part in the vexed and stormy annals of france. vincennes and bastile may be said to epitomise parisian history. they were ever closely associated with startling episodes and notable personages, the best and worst frenchmen in all ages, and were incessantly the centres of rebellions, dissensions, contentions and strife. they were both state prisons, differing but little in character and quality. vincennes was essentially a place of durance for people of rank and consequence. the bastile took the nobility also, but with them the whole crowd of ordinary criminals great and small. these prisons were the two weapons forged by autocratic authority and freely used by it alike for the oppression of the weak and down trodden, and the openly turbulent but vainly recalcitrant. the royal relatives that dared oppose the king, the stalwart nobles that conspired or raised the standard of revolt, the great soldiers who dabbled in civil war, found themselves committed to vincennes. the same classes of offenders, but generally of lesser degree, were thrown into the bastile. the courtier who forgot his manners or dared to be independent in thought or action, the bitter poetaster and too fluent penman of scurrilous pamphlets, were certain of a lodging at the gloomy citadel of saint antoine. the castle of vincennes was used primarily as a royal palace and has been called the windsor of the house of valois. philip iv, the first king of that family, kept high festival there in a splendid and luxurious court. the great edifice was of noble dimensions--both a pleasure house and a prison, with towers and drawbridges for defense and suites of stately apartments. it stood in the centre of a magnificent forest, the famous bois de vincennes, the name often used to describe the residence; and the crowned heads and royal guests who constantly visited the french sovereigns hunted the deer in the woods around, or diverted themselves with tilts or tournaments in the courtyard of the castle. the first to use vincennes largely as a prison was that famous gaoler louis xi. he did not live there much, preferring as a residence his impregnable fortified palace at plessis-lez-tours. not satisfied with loches, he utilised vincennes and kept it constantly filled. some account of his principal victims will be found in the narrative of succeeding reigns and the extensive use of the various prisons made by succeeding kings. the prison fortress of vincennes in its palmiest days consisted of nine great towers; and a tenth, loftier and more solid, was the donjon, or central keep, commonly called the royal domain. two drawbridges must be passed before entrance was gained by a steep ascent. this was barred by three heavy doors. the last of these communicated directly with the donjon, being so ponderous that it could only be moved by the combined efforts of the warder within and the sergeant of the guard without. a steep staircase led to the cells above. the four towers had each four stories and each story a hall forty feet long, with a cell at each corner having three doors apiece. these doors acted one on the other. the second barred the first and the third barred the second, and none could be opened without knowledge of secret machinery. the torture chamber, with all its abominable paraphernalia of "boots," rack, "stools" and other implements for inflicting torture, was on the first floor. every french prison of the olden times had its "question" chamber to carry out the penalties and savage processes of the french judicial code. the barbarous treatment administered in it was not peculiar to france alone, but was practised in prisons throughout the so-called civilised world. torture was in general use in french prisons till a late date and really survived till abolished by the ill-fated louis xvi in . it may be traced back to the ancient judicial ordeals when an accused was allowed to prove his innocence by withstanding combat or personal attack. it was also known as the "question" because the judge stood by during its infliction and called upon the prisoner to answer the interrogations put to him, when his replies, if any, were written down. the process is described by la bruyère as a marvellous but futile invention "quite likely to force the physically weak to confess crimes they never committed and yet quite as certain to favor the escape of the really guilty, strong enough to support the application." the "question" was of two distinct categories: one, the "preparatory" or "ordinary," an unfair means of obtaining avowals for the still legally innocent; the other, "preliminary" or "extraordinary," reserved for those actually condemned to death but believed to know more than had yet been elicited. there were many terrible varieties of torture exhibiting unlimited cruel invention. we are familiar enough with the "rack," the "wheel," the "thumb screw" and the "boot." other less known forms were the "veglia" introduced into france by the popes when the holy see came to avignon. the "veglia" consisted of a small wooden stool so constructed that when the accused sat upon it his whole weight rested on the extremity of his spine. his sufferings soon became acute. he groaned, he shrieked and then fainted, whereupon the punishment ceased until he came to and was again placed on the stool. it was usual to hold a looking glass before his eyes that his distorted features might frighten him into confession. the "estrapade," like the "veglia," was borrowed from italy. by this the torture was applied with a rope and pulley by which the patient was suspended over a slow fire and slowly roasted, being alternately lifted and let down so as to prolong his sufferings. elsewhere in france fire was applied to the soles of the feet or a blade was introduced between the nail and the flesh of finger or toe. sometimes sulphur matches or tow was inserted between the fingers and ignited. in the chief french prisons the "question" was generally limited to the two best known tortures: swallowing great quantities of water and the insertion of the legs within a casing or "boot" of wood or iron. for the first, the accused was chained to the floor and filled with water poured down his throat by means of a funnel. in the "ordinary question" four "cans"--pints, presumably--of water were administered, and for the "extraordinary" eight cans. from a report of the proceedings in the case of a priest accused of sacrilege, who had been already sentenced to death but whose punishment was accentuated by torture, it is possible to realise the sufferings endured. after the first can the victim cried "may god have mercy on me;" at the second he declared, "i know nothing and i am ready to die;" at the third he was silent, but at the fourth he declared he could support it no longer and that if they would release him he would tell the truth. then he changed his mind and refused to speak, declaring that he had told all he knew and was forthwith subjected to the "extraordinary question." at the fifth can he called upon god twice. at the sixth he said, "i am dying, i can hold out no longer, i have told all." at the seventh he said nothing. at the eighth he screamed out that he was dying and lapsed into complete silence. now the surgeon interfered, saying that further treatment would endanger his life, and he was unbound and placed on a mattress near the fire. he appears to have made no revelations and was in due course borne off to the place of execution. the torture of the "boot" was applied by inserting the legs in an iron apparatus which fitted closely but was gradually tightened by the introduction of wedges driven home within the fastenings. the pain was intense and became intolerable as the wedge was driven farther and farther down between the knee and the iron casing by repeated blows of the mallet. the "boot" was better known in france as the _brodequin_ or _buskin_. in england some modification of it was introduced by one skeffington, a keeper in the tower, and this gave it the nickname of "skeffington's gyves" which was corrupted into the words "scavenger's daughters." it was sometimes shown that the torture had been applied to perfectly innocent people. the operation was performed with a certain amount of care. one of the master surgeons of the prison was always present to watch the effect upon the patient and to offer him advice. the "questioner" was a sworn official who was paid a regular salary, about one hundred francs a year. of the secondary punishments, those less than death, there was the _amende honorable_, a public reparation made by degrading exposure with a rope round the neck, sometimes by standing at the door of a church, sometimes by being led through the streets seated on a donkey with face towards the tail. the culprit was often stripped naked to the waist and flogged on the back as he stood or was borne away. blasphemy, sacrilege and heresy were punished by the exaction of the _amende honorable_. an old king of france was subjected to it by his revolted sons. a reigning prince, the count of toulouse, who was implicated in the assassination of a papal legate concerned in judging the _religieuses_, was brought with every mark of ignominy before an assemblage at the door of a church. three archers, who had violated a church sanctuary and dragged forth two fugitive thieves, were sentenced on the demand of the clergy to make the _amende_ at the church door arrayed in petticoats and bearing candles in their hands. flagellation was a cruel and humiliating punishment, largely used under degrading conditions and with various kinds of instruments. mutilation was employed in every variety; not a single part of the body has escaped some penalties. there were many forms of wounding the eyes and the mouth; tongue, ears, teeth, arms, hands and feet have been attacked with fire and weapons of every kind. to slice off the nose, crop the ears, amputate the wrist, draw the teeth, cut off the lower limbs, were acts constantly decreed. branding with red hot irons on the brow, cheeks, lips and shoulders, kept the executioner busy with such offenses as blasphemy, petty thefts and even duelling. the effects served to inhibit like offenses, but the punishment was in no sense a preventive or corrective. prisoners were generally received at vincennes in the dead of night, a natural sequel to secret unexplained arrests, too often the result of jealousy or caprice or savage ill-will. the ceremony on arrival was much the same as that which still obtains. a close search from head to foot, the deprivation of all papers, cash and valuables, executed under the eyes of the governor himself. the new arrival was then conducted to his lodging, generally a foul den barely furnished with bedstead, wooden table and a couple of rush-bottomed chairs. the first mandate issued was that strict silence was the invariable rule. arbitrary and irksome rules governed the whole course of procedure and daily conduct. the smallest privileges depended entirely upon the order of superior authority. books or writing materials were issued or forbidden as the gaoler, the king's minister, or the king himself might decide. dietary was fixed by regulation and each prisoner's maintenance paid out of the king's bounty on a regular scale according to the rank and quality of the captive. the allowance for princes of the blood was $ per diem, for marshals of france $ . , for judges, priests and captains in the army or officials of good standing about $ , and for lesser persons fifty cents. these amounts were ample, but pilfering and peculation were the general rule. the money was diverted from the use intended, articles were issued in kind and food and fuel were shamelessly stolen. prisoners who were not allowed to supply themselves, were often half starved and half frozen in their cells. so inferior was the quality of the prison rations, that those who purloined food could not sell it in the neighborhood and the peasants said that all that came from the donjon was rotten. in sharp contrast was the revelry and rioting in which prisoners of high station were permitted to indulge. these were attended by their own servants and constantly visited by their personal friends of both sexes. an amusing sidelight on the régime of vincennes may be read in the account of the arrest of the great prince de condé, during the fronde, and his two confederate princes, the prince de conti, his brother, and the duc de longueville, his brother-in-law. no preparations had been made for their reception, but condé, a soldier and an old campaigner, supped on some new-laid eggs and slept on a bundle of straw. next morning he played tennis and shuttle-cock with the turnkeys, sang songs and began seriously to learn music. a strip of garden ground, part of the great court, surrounding the prison, where the prisoners exercised, was given to condé to cultivate and he raised pinks which were the admiration of all paris. he poked fun at the governor and when the latter threatened him for breach of rule, proposed to strangle him. this is clearly the same condé who nicknamed cardinal mazarin, "mars," when his eminence aspired to lead an army, and when he wrote him a letter addressed it to "his excellency, the great scoundrel." prison discipline must have been slack in vincennes, nor could innumerable locks and ponderous chains make up for the careless guard kept by its gaolers. many escapes were effected from vincennes, more creditable to the ingenuity and determination of the fugitives than to the vigilance and integrity of those charged with their safe custody. antiquarian researches connect the bastile in its beginning with the fortifications hastily thrown up by the parisians in the middle of the fourteenth century to defend the outskirts of the city upon the right bank of the river. the walls built by philip augustus one hundred and fifty years earlier were by this time in a ruinous condition. the english invasion had prospered, and after the battle of poitiers the chief authority in the capital, Étienne marcel, the provost of the merchants, felt bound to protect paris. an important work was added at the eastern entrance of the city, and the gateway was flanked by a tower on either side. marcel was in secret correspondence with the then king of navarre, who aspired to the throne of france, and would have admitted him to paris through this gateway, but was not permitted to open it. the infuriated populace attacked him as he stood with the keys in his hand, and although he sought asylum in one of the towers he was struck down with an axe and slain. this first fortified gate was known as the bastile of st. antoine. the first use of the word "bastile," which is said to have been of roman origin, was applied to the temporary forts raised to cover siege works and isolate and cut off a beleaguered city from relief or revictualment. the construction of a second and third fortress was undertaken some years later, in , when the first stone of the real bastile was laid. another provost, hugues aubriot by name, had authority from charles v to rebuild and strengthen the defences, and was supplied by the king with moneys for the purpose. aubriot appears to have added two towers to the gateway, and this made the bastile into a square fort with a tower at each angle. this provost was high-handed and ruled paris with a rod of iron, making many enemies, who turned on him. he offended the ever turbulent students of the university and was heavily fined for interfering with their rights. to raise money for the king, he imposed fresh taxes, and was accused of unlawful commerce with the jews, for which he was handed over to the ecclesiastical tribunal and condemned to be burnt to death. this sentence was, however, commuted to perpetual imprisonment, and tradition has it that he was confined in one of the towers he had himself erected. the historian compares his sad fate with that of other designers of punishment, such as the greek who invented the brazen bull and was the first to be burnt inside it, or enguerrand de marigny, who was hung on his own gibbet of montfauçon, and the bishop haraucourt of verdun, who was confined in his own iron cage. hugues aubriot was presently transferred from the bastile to for-l'Évêque prison where he was languishing at the time of the insurrection of the maillotins. these men rose against the imposition of fresh taxes and armed themselves with leaden mallets which they seized in the arsenal. a leader failing them, they forcibly released hugues aubriot and begged him to be their captain, escorting him in triumph to his house. but the ex-provost pined for peace and quiet and slipped away at the first chance. he was a native of dijon in burgundy and he escaped thither to die in obscurity the following year. charles vi enlarged and extended the bastile by adding four more towers and giving it the plan of a parallelogram, and it remained with but few modifications practically the same when captured by the revolutionists in . the fortress now consisted of eight towers, each a hundred feet high and with a wall connecting them, nine feet thick. four of these towers looked inwards facing the city, four outwards over the suburb of st. antoine. a great ditch, twenty-five feet deep and one hundred and twenty feet wide, was dug to surround it. the road which had hitherto passed through it was diverted, the gateway blocked up and a new passage constructed to the left of the fortress. the bastile proper ceased to be one of the entrances of paris and that of the porte st. antoine was substituted. admission to the fortress was gained at the end opposite the rue st. antoine between the two towers named the bazinière and comté overlooking the seine. on the ground floor of the former was the reception ward, as we should call it, a detailed account of which is preserved in the old archives. the first room was the porter's lodge with a guard bed and other pieces of furniture of significant purpose; two ponderous iron bars fixed in the wall, with iron chains affixed ending in fetters for hands and feet, and an iron collar for the neck; the avowed object of all being to put a man in "gehenna," the ancient prison euphemism for hell. a four-wheeled iron chariot is also mentioned, no doubt for the red hot coals to be used in inflicting torture, the other implements for which were kept in this chamber. the tower of the comté was like the rest, of four stories, and became chiefly interesting for the escapes effected from it by latude and d'allègre in later years. all the towers of the bastile received distinctive names derived from the chance associations of some well-known personage or from the purpose to which they were applied. these names became the official designation of their occupants, who were entered in the books as "no. so and so" of "such and such a tower." personal identity was soon lost in the bastile. if we made the circuit of the walls, starting from the bazinière tower first described, we should come to that of la bertaudière in the façade above the rue st. antoine and overlooking the city, the third floor of which was the last resting place of that mysterious prisoner, the man with the iron mask. next came the tower of liberty, a name supposed by some to have originated in some saturnine jest, by others to have been the scene of successful escape, although attempts were usually made on the other side of the bastile which overlooked the open country. the tower of the well (du puits) had an obvious derivation. at the north-east angle was the corner tower, so called, no doubt, because it was situated at the corner of the street and the boulevard st. antoine. next came the chapel tower, from its neighborhood to the old chapel of the bastile. this at one time took rank as the noble quarter of the fortress and was called the "donjon"--for in the time of the english domination the king's chamber and that of the "captain" were situated in this tower. in later days the chapel tower had accommodation for only three occupants, two on the second and one on the third floor, the first floor being used as a store house. next came the treasure tower, a title which referred back to a very early date, as witness receipts in existence for moneys paid over to the king's controller-general of finances. in the reign of henry iv, a prudent monarch with a thrifty minister, the ever faithful and famous duke de sully, large sums were deposited in this tower as a reserve for the enterprises he contemplated. the money was soon expended after henry's assassination, in wasteful extravagances and civil wars. it is of record that after payment of all current expenses of state, the surplus collected by sully in the bastile amounted to , , livres or upwards of , , francs, or $ , , . on reaching the eighth, or last tower, that of the comté, we return to the northernmost side of the great gate already spoken of. speaking generally, all these towers were of four stories, with an underground basement each containing a number of dens and dungeons of the most gloomy and horrible character. the stone walls were constantly dripping water upon the slimy floor which swarmed with vermin, rats, toads and newts. scanty light entered through narrow slits in the wall on the side of the ditch, and a small allowance of air, always foul with unwholesome exhalations. iron bedsteads with a thin layer of dirty straw were the sole resting places of the miserable inmates. the fourth or topmost floors were even more dark than the basement. these, the calottes, or "skull caps," (familiar to us as the head-dress of the tonsured priests) were cagelike in form with low, vaulted roofs, so that no one might stand upright within save in the very centre of the room. they were barely lighted by narrow windows that gave no prospect, from the thickness of the walls and the plentiful provision of iron gratings having bars as thick as a man's arms. the fortress stood isolated in the centre of its own deep ditch, which was encircled by a narrow gallery serving as a _chemin-des-rondes_, the sentinel's and watchman's beat. this was reached by narrow staircases from the lower level of the interior and there were sentry boxes at intervals for the guards. north of the bastile, beyond the main prison structure, but included in the general line of fortifications, was the bastion, used as a terrace and exercising ground for privileged prisoners. in later years permission was accorded to the governors to grow vegetables upon this open space and fruit gardens were in full bearing upon the final demolition of the bastile. the privilege conceded to the governor in this garden became a grievance of the prisoners, for it was let to a contractor who claimed that when the prisoners frequented it for exercise damage was done to the growing produce, and by a royal decree all prisoners were forbidden henceforth to enter this space. the bastile was for the first two centuries of its history essentially a military stronghold serving, principally, as a defensive work, and of great value to its possessors for the time being. whoever held the bastile over-awed paris and was in a sense the master of france. in the unceasing strife of parties it passed perpetually from hand to hand and it would be wearisome to follow the many changes in its ownership. in the long wars between the armagnacs and the burgundians, the latter seized paris in the reign of the half-witted charles v, but the armagnacs held the bastile and the person of the king's eldest son, whose life was eventually saved by this seclusion. this dauphin came afterwards to the throne through the help of the english king, henry v, who married his daughter catherine and was appointed regent of france. under this régime paris was occupied for a time by an english garrison. when at length the rival factions in france made common cause against the intrusive strangers the french re-entered paris and the english were forced to retire into the bastile, where they were so closely besieged that they presently offered to capitulate. the fortress was greatly over-crowded, supplies ran short and there was no hope of relief. the constable of france, richemont, was master of the situation outside, and at first refused terms, hoping to extort a large ransom, but the people of paris, eager to be rid of the foreigners, advised him to accept their surrender and to allow the english garrison to march out with colors flying. it was feared that the people of paris would massacre them as they passed through the streets and they were led by a circuitous route to the river where, amidst the hoots and hisses of a large crowd, they embarked in boats and dropped down the river to rouen. it is interesting to note here that one of the english governors of the bastile was a certain sir john falstaff, not shakespeare's sir john but a very different person, a stalwart knight of unblemished character, great judgment and approved prowess. he was a soldier utterly unlike the drunken, and disreputable "jack falstaff," with his unconquerable weakness for sack, who only fought men in buckram. the real sir john falstaff was careful to maintain his charge safely, strengthening the fortress at all points, arming and victualling it and handing it over in good order to his successor, lord willoughby d'eresby. history has to record other good things of sir john falstaff, who is remembered as a patron of letters, who paid a price for the translation of cicero's "de senectute," who endowed magdalen college, oxford, with much valuable property and whose name is still commemorated among the founders of the college in the anniversary speech. he was a knight of the garter, held many superior commands and died full of honors at the advanced age of eighty. lord willoughby was governor at the time of the surrender. he withdrew in safety and evidently in good heart for he won a victory over the french at amiens after his retreat. after the exodus of the english and with the accession of louis xi, the two state prisons of paris were very fully and constantly occupied. the chief episodes in the checkered history of france, conspiracies, revolts and disturbances, were written in the prison registers and their records are a running commentary upon the principal events of french history. the personal qualities of the rulers, their quarrels with their great subjects, the vindictive policies they followed, their oppression of, and cruelty to the people, may be read in the annals of vincennes and the bastile. by taking the reigns seriatim and examining the character of the sovereigns, we shall best realise passing events and those who acted in them. let us take up the story with louis xi to whom some reference has already been made. some of his victims, the prisoners of loches and the comte de saint pol have figured on an earlier page. to these we may add the story of the two armagnacs, jacques and charles. charles, although wholly innocent, was arrested and imprisoned because his brother jacques had revolted against the king. charles d'armagnac was first tortured horribly, then thrown into one of the cages of the bastile, which he inhabited for fourteen years and when released was found to be bereft of reason. jacques, better known as the duc de nemours, had been the boy friend and companion of louis, who lavished many favors on him which he repaid by conspiring against the royal authority. when orders were issued for his arrest he withdrew to his own castle, carlet, hitherto deemed impregnable. it succumbed, however, when besieged in due form, and the duke was taken prisoner. he had given himself up on a promise that his life would be spared, but he received no mercy from his offended king. his first prison was pierre-encise, in which his hair turned grey in a few nights. thence he was transferred to a cage in the bastile. the minute instructions were issued by the king as to this prisoner's treatment, and in a letter it was directed that he should never be permitted to leave his cage or to have his fetters removed or to go to mass. he was only to be taken out to be tortured, in the cruel desire to extort an avowal that he had intended to kill the king and set up the dauphin in his place. the duke made a piteous appeal, signing himself "pauvre jacques," but he was sent for trial before the parliament in a packed court from which the peers were absent. he was condemned to death and executed, according to voltaire, under the most revolting circumstances. it is fair to add that no other historian reports these atrocities. it is said that the scaffold on which he suffered was so constructed that his children, the youngest of whom was only five, were placed beneath clad in white and were splashed with the blood from his severed head that dropped through the openings of the planks. after this fearful tragedy these infants were carried back to the bastile and imprisoned there in a narrow cell for five years. other records, possibly also apocryphal, are preserved of additional torments inflicted on the armagnac princes. it is asserted that they were taken out of their cells twice weekly to be flogged in the presence of the governor and to have a tooth extracted every three months. the character of louis xi shows black and forbidding in history. his tireless duplicity was matched by his distrustfulness and insatiable curiosity. he braved all dangers to penetrate the secrets of others, risked his own life, spent gold, wasted strength, used the matchless cunning of a red indian, betrayed confidences and lied to all the world. yet he was gifted with keen insight into human nature. no one knew better than he the strength and weakness of his fellow creatures. withal, france has had worse rulers. he may be credited with a desire to raise and help the common people. he saw that in their industry and contentment the wealth of the kingdom chiefly lay and looked forward to the day when settled government would be assured. "if i live a little longer," he told comines the historian, "there shall be only one weight, one measure, one law for the kingdom. we will have no more lawyers cheating and pilfering, lawsuits shall be shortened, and there shall be good police in the country." these dreams were never realised; but at least, louis was not a libertine and the slave of selfish indulgence, the most vicious in a vicious court, ever showing an evil example and encouraging dissolute manners and shameless immorality, as were many of those who came after him. although the salic law shut the female sex out of the succession to the throne, supreme power was frequently wielded by women in france. one of the earliest instances of this was in the steps taken by louis xi to provide for the government during the minority of his son, who succeeded as charles ix. the king's daughter, anne de beaujeu, was named regent by her father, who had a high opinion of her abilities and considered her "the least foolish of her sex he had met; not the wisest, for there are no sensible women." she was in truth possessed of remarkable talents and great strength of character, having much of her father's shrewdness and being even less unscrupulous. but she ruled with a high hand and her young brother submitted himself entirely to her influence. she felt it her duty to make an example of the evil counsellors upon whom louis had so much relied. oliver le daim, the ex-barber who had been created comte de meulan, was hanged, and his estates confiscated; doyat, chief spy and informer, was flogged and his tongue pierced with a hot iron; coictier, the king's doctor, who had wielded too much authority, was fined heavily and sent into exile. anne's brother-in-law, the duc d'orleans, afterwards king louis xii, had expected the regency and rebelled, but she put him down with a strong hand, destroyed the insurgent forces that he gathered around him, and made him a close prisoner in the great tower of bourges, where he endured the usual penalties,--confinement in a narrow, low-roofed cell by day and removal to the conventional iron cage at night. better fortune came to him in a few short years, for by the death of the dauphin, only son of charles viii, louis became next heir to the throne, and ascended it on the sudden death of the king from an accident in striking his head against the low archway of a dark corridor. he succeeded also to the king's bed, for in due course he married his widow, anne of brittany, another woman of forcible character, on whom he often relied, sometimes too greatly. the reign of charles viii and louis brought military glory and a great increase of territory to france. the records of generally successful external war rather than internal dissensions fill the history of the time and we look in vain for lengthy accounts of prisoners relegated to the state prisons. with the accession of francis i another epoch of conflict arrived and was general throughout europe, involving all the great nations. it was the age of chivalry, when knights carried fortunes on their backs and the most lavish outlay added to the "pomp and circumstance" of war. "the field of the cloth of gold" remains as a landmark in history, when kings vied with each other in extravagant ostentation and proposed to settle their differences by personal combat. the reign was brilliant with achievement abroad, but at home the people suffered much misery and francis kept his prisons filled. some great personages fell under his displeasure and were committed to the bastile; notably, montmorency, constable of france, and chabot, admiral of france. these two, once school companions of the king, became bitter rivals and the constable persuaded the king to try the admiral on a charge of embezzlement. francis, jealous of chabot, readily accepted the accusation, and sent him to the bastile, where the most flagrant violations of justice were used to secure conviction. he escaped with fines and banishment; and the next year the fickle monarch forgave him and released him from durance. he had been so sorely tried by his imprisonment that no doctor could restore him to health. the chancellor, poyet, who had framed the indictment, next found himself in the bastile, suspected of being in the possession of important state secrets. the king himself appeared as the witness against him and although the charges were vague, he was sentenced to fine and confiscation of property. [illustration: _castle st. andré, avignon_ fortress and prison used by the popes when avignon was the papal residence, in the fourteenth century. avignon remained the property of the popes after their return to rome, until its annexation by the french in .] the persecution of the huguenots began in the reign of francis i, who from the first declared himself on the side of the pope. protestantism as preached by martin luther took another form in france, and the geneva doctrines of calvin, which went much further, were followed. calvin, it may be said here, rejected the episcopate which luther had retained. he recognised only two sacraments,--baptism and the last supper, and desired his disciples to imitate the early christians in the austerity of their morals. the french protestants were styled calvinists and more generally huguenots, a name taken from the german word, "_eidgenossen_," or "confederates." calvinism made slow progress in france although it numbered amongst its adherents some of the best heads in the nation, men of letters, savants, great lawyers and members of the highest aristocracy. they were persecuted pitilessly. in berquin, a king's councillor, a man of much learning, was burned alive in paris and many shared his fate as martyrs to the new faith in the great cities such as lyons, toulouse, and marseilles. the most horrible atrocities were perpetrated against the vaudois, a simple, loyal population residing in the towns and villages around avignon and on the borders of the durance. two fanatical prelates of the guise family, the cardinal de tournon and the cardinal de lorraine, headed the movement in the course of which , persons were massacred,--men, women and children, and any who escaped were condemned to the galleys for life. nevertheless the reformed religion gained ground steadily. the new ideas appealed to the people despite opposition. neither persecution, nor the threats fulminated by the council of trent, nor the energies of the new order of jesuits, could stamp out the new faith; and religious intolerance, backed by the strong arm of the church was destined to deluge france with bloodshed in the coming centuries. henry ii, who followed his father francis on the throne, redoubled the persecution which was stained with incessant and abominable cruelties. the ordinary process of law was set aside in dealing with the huguenots who were brought under ecclesiastical jurisdiction. an edict published in , enjoined all governors and officers of justice to punish without delay, without examination and without appeal, all heretics condemned by the judges. the civil judge was no longer anything but the passive executant of the sentences of the church. the parliament of paris protested, but the king turned a deaf ear to these remonstrances and summoned a general meeting of all the parliaments, which he attended in person and where he heard some home truths. one of the most outspoken was a great nobleman, one anne du bourg, who defended the protestants, declaring that they were condemned to cruel punishment while heinous criminals altogether escaped retribution. du bourg and another, dufaure, were arrested and were conveyed to the bastile where they were soon joined by other members of the parliament. after many delays du bourg was brought to trial, convicted and sentenced to be burnt to death. "it is the intention of the court," so ran the judgment, "that the said du bourg shall in no wise feel the fire, and that before it be lighted and he is cast therein he shall be strangled, yet if he should wish to dogmatise and indulge in any remarks he shall be gagged so as to avoid scandal." he was executed on the place de la grève on the top of a high gallows under which a fire was lighted to receive the dead body when it fell. henry ii had been a weak and self-indulgent king. ostentatious and extravagant, he wasted large sums in the expenses of his court and lavished rich gifts on his creatures, a course which emptied the treasury and entailed burdensome taxation. he was entirely under the thumb of his mistress, diane de poitiers, a cold-blooded, selfish creature, who ruled him and the country with unquestioned supremacy, before whom even the lawful queen, catherine de medicis, humiliated herself and paid abject court. the king's ministers, the constable montmorency and the duc de guise, were at first rivals in power with diane, but soon joined with her in riding roughshod over the country, and in bestowing all good things, places, governments and profitable charges on their friends and creatures. foreign adventure, external wars, famine and pestilence constantly impoverished france. the people rose frequently in insurrection and were always suppressed with sanguinary cruelty. constable montmorency, above mentioned, dealt so severely with bordeaux, that in a short space of time no fewer than four hundred persons were beheaded, burned, torn asunder by wild horses or broken on the wheel. a prominent figure of those days was mary stuart, better known as mary, queen of scots, that fascinating woman who was "a politician at ten years old and at fifteen governed the court." she was the child-wife of francis ii, who unexpectedly came to the throne on the sudden death by mischance of henry ii at a tournament held in front of the bastile. he had challenged montgomery, an officer of the scottish guard, to break a lance with him and in the encounter a splinter entered henry's eye and penetrated to the brain. the tragic death of francis ii was another of those instances in which the salic law was evaded and a woman held supreme power. catherine de medicis has already appeared on the scene in the sanguinary suppression of the conspiracy of amboise. this was only one of the atrocities that stained her long tenure of power as regent of france during the minority of her son charles ix. her character has been already indicated. evil was ever in the ascendant with her and in her stormy career she exhibited the most profound cunning, a rare fertility of resource, and the finished diplomacy of one trained in the machiavellian school. she was double-faced and deceitful beyond measure. now the ally of one political party, now of the other, she betrayed both. she even affected sympathy at times with the protestants and often wept bitter crocodile tears over their sufferings. for a time liberty of conscience was conceded to the huguenots but catherine desired always to conciliate the catholics and concerted measures with philip of spain to bring about a new persecution. a fresh conflict ensued in which successes were gained on both sides, but the huguenots showed so firm a front that peace could not be denied them. they were always prepared to rise, offering a hydra-headed resistance that might be scotched but could not be killed. to crush them utterly catherine planned the massacre of saint bartholomew, in which the admiral coligny and , protestants were murdered in paris alone and , more in the provinces. this ineffaceable crime to which charles ix had weakly consented, seemed to paralyse the huguenot cause and many of their principal leaders abjured the new faith. charles ix, tortured by remorse, constantly haunted by superstitious terrors, rapidly succumbed to wasting disease and died penitent, acknowledging his guilt. some time previously henri d'anjou had been elected king of poland and on his departure, efforts were made to secure the succession for his younger brother, the duc d'alençon, who was to own himself the protector of the huguenots. the plot failed and served only to fill the prisons of vincennes and bastile. montgomery, the huguenot leader, was implicated. he had surrendered on a vague promise of safe conduct which ended in his torture to compel confession of complicity in the plot. he was on the point of being secretly strangled when catherine de medicis, who had gone to the bastile to be present at his execution, suddenly changed her mind and set the surprised prisoner free. another class was committed to the bastile by catherine de medicis. she waged war constantly against coiners and issuers of false money; their chief ringleader was sent to the bastile with special instructions for his "treatment." he was transferred secretly to paris from rouen and shut up alone in an especially private place where no news could be had of him. this order was signed by catherine herself. next year ( ) a defaulting finance officer was committed and the lieutenant of the bastile was ordered to forbid him to speak to a soul or write or give any hint where he was. again, a gascon gentleman, named du mesnil, was taken in the act of robbing and murdering a courier on his way to italy, the bearer of , crowns worth of pearls. du mesnil's accomplices, two simple soldiers, were hanged at the halles but he himself was sent to the bastile and recommended to its governor for "good discipline." this prisoner seems to have preferred liberty to the favor shown him, such as it was, for in november, , he made a desperate attempt to escape. the account given by l'estoile in his memoirs, is that du mesnil, weary of his close confinement, burned down the door of his cell, got out, became possessed of a rope from the well in the court, climbed to the top of the terrace (the bastion), fastened his rope through an artillery wheel and lowered himself into the ditch. the rope had been lengthened by another made from his sheets and bedding, but it was still too short to reach the bottom, and letting himself fall he was caught on a window below and making outcry was recaptured and re-imprisoned. a more distinguished prisoner was bernard palissy, the famous potter who was committed to gaol as a protestant and died in the bastile in when eighty years of age. l'estoile tells us that palissy at his death bequeathed him two stones, one of them, part of a petrified skull which he accounted a philosopher's stone, the other, a stone he had himself manufactured. "i have them still," says l'estoile, "carefully preserved in my cabinet for the sake of the good old man whom i loved and relieved in his necessity,--not as much as i could have wished, but to the full extent of my power." when henry iii assassinated the duc de guise at blois, paris took it greatly to heart and swore vengeance. the "sixteen" held the bastile, and its governor, bussy-leclerc, an ex-fencing master, sought to coerce the parliament, seizing at once upon all with royalist leanings and driving them into the bastile. president auguste de thou was arrested and with him his wife, who is said to have been the first female occupant of this prison. now the king, in despair, turned to the huguenots and formed an alliance with henry of navarre. the two kings joined forces to recover paris and the parisians, alarmed, feeling they could not make long resistance, accepted the worst. some said there would be a second st. bartholomew, for the "leaguers" and the royalists boasted that so many should be hanged that the wood for gibbets would run short. but the situation suddenly changed, for henry iii was unexpectedly assassinated by a fanatical monk, clément, in the very heart of the royal apartments. chapter iv the rise of richelieu early governors of the bastile--frequent changes--day of barricades--conspiracy of biron--assassination of henry iv--ravaillac--barbarous sentence--marie de medicis left regent--story of the concinis--rise of richelieu--gifts and character--his large employment of the state prisons--duelling prohibited--the day of dupes--triumph over his enemies--fall of marie de medicis--maréchal bassompierre--his prolonged imprisonment. we may pause a moment at this stage to give some attention to a few of the more prominent governors of the bastile, appointed by each side in turn during the long conflicts of the opposing parties. antoine d'ivyer was the first after the english, as captain under the supreme command of duke charles of bourbon. one cissey, after fifteen years' tenure in the bastile, was succeeded by la rochette, he by de melun, he by de chauvigny, and the last by phillip luillier, who enjoyed the confidence of louis xi and was personally in charge of the bishops and dukes who have been mentioned. he was the last of the royal functionaries, the court officials other than military men who acted as gaolers. only in the troublous times of the league and later of the fronde, when the possession of the bastile meant so much to the existing régime, was the fortress entrusted to the strong hands of soldiers and men of action equal to any emergency. after luillier the charge was considered equal to a provincial government and those entrusted with it were some of the most considerable persons in the state, constables or ministers who ruled by lieutenant or deputy and kept only the title and dignity of the office. it was long deemed hereditary in certain great families and descended from father to son, as with the montmorencys. the head of that house, william, in , was succeeded by his son, anne, a pluralist, at the same time governor of paris and captain of the castle of vincennes. francis, a marshal of france, son of the last-named, was a third montmorency governor. much later the post was held by successive members of the family of admiral coligny, and some of the governors were very eminent persons, such as châteauneuf, the duc de luynes, maréchal bassompierre and sully, the celebrated minister of henry iv, whose memoirs have been widely read and were the inspiration of the english novelist, stanley weyman. the bastile often changed hands. when henry of guise made himself master of paris after the "battle," or "day of the barricades," laurent testu was governor or king's lieutenant of the bastile; but after the second day's fighting, when summoned to surrender, he obeyed and opened the gates. the duc de guise then gave the governorship to one bussy-leclerc, a devoted adherent, but of indifferent character, who had been a procureur of the parliament and a fencing master. he had a large following of bullies and cut-throats. the prisoners in the bastile were quite at his mercy and he ruled with a rough, reckless hand, inflicting all manner of cruelties in order to extort money,--squeezing the rich and torturing the poor. after the assassination of henry of guise at blois, he planned reprisals against henry iii and sought to intimidate the parliament, which would have made submission to the king, by making its members prisoners in the bastile. leclerc's excesses roused paris against him, and the duc de mayenne, now the head of the league, threatened the bastile. leclerc, in abject terror, at once surrendered on condition that he might retire from the capital to brussels with the plunder he had acquired. dubourg l'espinasse, a brave, honorable soldier, was appointed to the bastile by the duc de mayenne, in succession to leclerc and defended it stoutly against henry of navarre, now king henry iv, after the assassination of his predecessor. dubourg declared that he knew no king of france but the duc de mayenne, and on being told that henry was master of paris, said, "good, but i am master of the bastile!" he at length agreed to yield up the fortress to the duke, who had entrusted him with the command, and finally marched out with all the honors of war, gaining great credit from the king for his staunch and loyal conduct to his superiors. the text of the capitulation has been preserved and its quaint phraseology may be transcribed. the commandant promised to hand over to the king, "on sunday at three in the afternoon the said bastile, its artillery and munitions of war. in return for which the king will permit the garrison to march out with arms, horses, furniture and all belongings. the troops will issue by one gate with drums beating, matches lighted and balls" (for loading). it is recorded of henry iv by the historian maquet, that he was the king who least abused the bastile. it is due this sovereign to say that the prisoners confined in it during his reign were duly tried and condemned by parliament and that from his accession the fortress lost its exceptional character and became an ordinary prison. sully was appointed governor and received a letter of appointment in which the king announced that he relied more than ever upon his loyalty and had decided to make him captain of the bastile: "so that if i should have any birds to put in the cage and hold tight i can rely upon your foresight, diligence and loyalty." few prisoners were committed to the bastile in this reign, but all imprisoned were notably traitors. such was charles, maréchal de biron, the restless and unstable subject who conspired more than once against the king, by whom at one time he had been exceedingly favored. henry iv was greatly attached to biron. "i never loved anyone as i loved biron," he said. "i could have confided my son and my kingdom to him." for a time biron served him well, yet he, too, entered into a dangerous conspiracy with the king of spain, the duke of savoy and the king's disloyal subjects in france. henry iv forgave him and paid his debts, which were large, for he was a great gambler and had lost large sums at the tables. biron was sent to london as ambassador to the english queen elizabeth but resumed his evil courses on his return to france and was summoned before the king to answer for them. henry promised to pardon and forgive him if he would confess his crimes, but biron was obstinately silent and was committed to the bastile. he was tried openly before the parliament and unanimously convicted by one hundred and twenty-seven judges. the sentence was death and he was to be publicly executed on the place de la grève, but henry, dreading the sympathy of the mob and not indisposed to spare his friend the contumely of a public hanging, allowed the execution to take place within the bastile. biron, although he had acknowledged his guilt, died protesting against the sentence. he comported himself with little dignity upon the scaffold, resisting the headman and trying to strangle him. three times he knelt down at the block and three times sprang to his feet; and the fourth time was decapitated with much dexterity by the executioner. the comte d'auvergne, the natural son of charles ix and marie touchet, was an ally of biron's and put on his trial at the same time. their common offense had been to invite invasion by the spaniards and stir up a revolution throughout france. d'auvergne was sentenced to death and with him the comte d'entragues, who had married marie touchet, but neither suffered. d'auvergne remained in the bastile for twelve years. he was released in the following reign and made a good appearance at court as the duc d'angoulême. henry iv had been moved to soften the rigors of his imprisonment and wrote to the governor (sully) saying that as he had heard his nephew d'auvergne needed change of air, he was to be placed in "the pavilion at the end of the garden of the arsenal which looks upon the water, but to be guarded in any way that seemed necessary for the security of his person." reference must be made to one inmate of the bastile at this period, the vicomte de tavannes, who was opposed to henry iv as a partisan of the league. he was long held a prisoner but was exchanged for the female relations of the duc de longueville; and tavannes has written in his "memoirs:" "a poor gentleman was thus exchanged against four princesses, one a bourbon, one of the house of cleves, and two of that of orleans." at the fall of the league, tavannes acknowledged henry iv on condition that he should be confirmed in his dignity as a marshal of france. this promise was not kept and he withdrew from his allegiance, saying he was the king's subject and not his slave. for this he was again committed to the bastile from which he escaped, according to his own account, with great ease,--"a page brought me some thread and a file; i twisted the cord, filed through a bar and got away." he was not pursued but was suffered to remain in peace in his own castle of soilly, near autun. the king could never tolerate tavannes. he had been largely concerned in the massacre of st. bartholomew, of which he is believed to have been the principal instigator and which he is supposed to have suggested to catherine de medicis. henry's reign was abruptly terminated by his assassination in . he was murdered by françois ravaillac, a native of angoulême who was no doubt a victim of religious dementia. having been much perturbed with visions inciting him to exhort the king to take action against the followers of the pretended reformed religion and convert them to the roman catholic church, ravaillac determined to do so. on reaching paris he went to the jesuits' house near the porte st.-antoine and sought advice from one of the priests, father daubigny, who told him to put these disturbed thoughts out of his head, to say his prayers and tell his beads. he still maintained his intention of speaking to the king and addressed to him on one occasion as he drove by in his coach, but "the king put him back with a little stick and would not hear him." then ravaillac changed his mind and set out for home; but on reaching estampes, was again impelled to return to paris--this time with homicidal intent. the would-be regicide watched for the king constantly, but thought it better to wait until after the new queen (marie de medicis) was crowned. he hung about the louvre, burning to do the deed, and at last found his opportunity on the th of may, , near the churchyard of st. innocent. the king left the louvre that morning in his coach unattended. one of his gentlemen had protested. "take me, sire, i implore you," he said, "to guard your majesty." "no," replied the king, "i will have neither you nor the guard. i want no one." the coach was driven to the hotel de longueville and then to the croix du tiroir and so to the churchyard of st. bartholomew. it had turned from the rue st. honore into the rue feronnière, a very narrow way made more so by the small shops built against the wall of the churchyard. the passage was further blocked by the approach of two carts, one laden with wine and the other with hay, and the coach was brought to a stop at the corner of the street. ravaillac had followed the coach from the louvre, had seen it stop and noted that there was now no one near it and no one to interfere with him as he came close to the side of the carriage where the king was seated. ravaillac had his cloak wrapped round his left arm to conceal a knife and creeping in between the shops and the coach as if he desired to pass by, paused there, and resting one foot upon a spoke of the wheel, the other upon a stone, leaned forward and stabbed the king. the knife entered a little above the heart between the third and fourth ribs. the king, who was reading a letter, fell over towards the duc d'Épernon on his other side, murmuring, "i am wounded." at this moment ravaillac, fearing that the point of his weapon had been turned aside, quickly struck a second blow at the fainting monarch, who had raised his arm slightly, thus giving the knife better chance to reach his heart. this second stroke was instantly fatal. the blood gushed from his mouth and he expired breathing a deep sigh. his majesty's attendants, now running up, would have killed ravaillac on the spot, but the duc d'Épernon called out to them to secure his person, whereupon one seized the dagger, another his throat, and he was promptly handed over to the guards. the news spread that the king was dead and caused a panic. people rushed from the shops into the streets and a tumult arose which was stayed only by the prompt assurance of d'Épernon that the king had merely fainted and was being carried to the louvre for medical attention. the murder created intense excitement in the city, for the king was beloved and trusted by the people as the one hope of peace after such constant strife. sully, his faithful minister, was broken-hearted but acted with great promptitude and firmness. he brought troops forthwith into paris and strengthened the garrison with the swiss guards. despair and consternation prevailed in the louvre, where were the widowed queen, marie de medicis, and the infant heir, now louis xiii. bassompierre, in his memoirs, tells us how he found the dead king laid out in his cabinet, surrounded by afflicted followers and weeping surgeons. summoned to the queen's presence, he found her in dishabille, overcome with grief, and he with others knelt to kiss her hand and assure her of his devotion. the duc de villeroi reasoned with her, imploring her to postpone her lamentations until she had made provision for her own and her son's safety. while the duc de guise was directed to bring together all the principal people to recognise and proclaim the new sovereign, the marshal proceeded to gather up all the troops and march through the city to check any signs of tumult and sedition. meanwhile, sully had occupied the bastile with a force of archers and had enjoined all good subjects to swear allegiance to the throne and proclaim their readiness to give their lives to avenge henry's murder. with the nation in such a temper it was little likely that any mercy would be shown to ravaillac. his trial was hurried forward in all haste and he was arraigned before the high court of the tournelle. long and minute interrogatories were administered to him on the rack to extort confession of an act fully proved by eye-witnesses and of which he was duly convicted. the court declared that he was "attainted of high treason divine and human in the highest degree, for the most wicked, the most abominable parricide committed on the person of the late henry iv, of good and laudable memory," and he was condemned in reparation to make the _amende honorable_ before the principal gate of the city of paris, "whither he shall be carried," so runs the decree, "and drawn on a tumbril in his shirt, bearing a lighted torch of two pounds weight, and there he shall make confession of his crime, of which he repents and begs pardon of god, the king and the laws. from thence he shall be carried to the grève and, on a scaffold to be there erected, the flesh shall be torn from him with red-hot pincers ... and after this his limbs shall be dragged by four horses, his body burnt to ashes and dispersed in the air. his goods and chattels are also declared to be forfeited and confiscated to the king. and it is further ordained that the house in which he was born shall be pulled down to the ground (the owner thereof being previously indemnified) and that no other building shall ever hereafter be erected on the foundation thereof; that within fifteen days after the publication of this present sentence his father and mother shall, by sound of trumpet and public proclamation in the city of angoulême, be banished out of the kingdom and forbidden ever to return under the penalty of being hanged and strangled, without any further process at law. the court has also forbidden, and doth forbid his brothers, sisters, uncles and others, from henceforth to bear the said name of ravaillac." the curious fact is recorded in history that henry iv had a strong presentiment of impending fate. "i cannot tell you why, bassompierre, but i feel satisfied i shall never go into germany" (on a projected campaign). he repeated several times, "i believe i shall die soon." he shared his forebodings with sully. "i shall die in this city. this ceremony of the queen's coronation (now at hand) disturbs me. i shall die in this city; i shall never quit paris again, they mean to kill me. accursed coronation! i shall fall during the show." and he did die the day after it. yet sometimes he laughed at these fears, remarking, only two days before his murder, to some of his attendants whom he overheard discussing the subject, "it is quite foolish to anticipate evil; for thirty years every astrologer and charlatan in the kingdom has predicted my death on a particular day, and here i am still alive." but on this very morning of the th of may, the young duc de vendôme brought him a fresh horoscope. the constellation under which henry was born threatened him with great danger on this day and he was urged to pass it in sheltered retirement. the king called the astrologer a crafty old fox and the duke a young fool, and said, "my fate is in the hands of god." at the moment ravaillac was in the vicinity of the palace, but his gestures were so wild that the guards drove him away to wait and carry out his fell deed elsewhere. ravaillac was no doubt the tool of others. the king's life had been threatened by courtiers near his person. not the least active of his enemies was madame de verneuil, born d'entragues, who had been at one time his mistress, but who had joined his enemies, notably the duc d'Épernon, in cordial detestation of his policy. henry was at this time planning a great coalition against the overweening power of spain and favored the concession of religious toleration throughout europe. madame de verneuil had welcomed ravaillac to paris and commended him to the hospitality of one of her creatures, and it was proved that the murderer had been once in the service of the duc d'Épernon. when henry iv fell under the assassin's knife, it was found by his will that, in the event of a minority, the regency should devolve upon marie de medicis, his second wife. this happened because louis xiii, the new king, was no more than nine years of age, and once again france came under female rule. the italian queen mother soon fell under the domination of two other italians, the concinis, husband and wife. the first, a mercenary and overbearing creature, best known as the marquis d'ancre, stirred up the bitterest animosity and brought the queen into fierce conflict with the princes of the blood who rose in open rebellion. they were presently supported by the young king and a murderous plot was carried out for the marquis' assassination. it was effected in broad daylight at the entrance of the louvre by the baron de vitry, a captain of the gardes du corps. "i have the king's order to arrest you," said de vitry. "_À me?_" asked the astonished d'ancre in imperfect french. "_À vous_," replied the other, taking out a pistol and shooting him down, the rest dispatching him with their swords. louis xiii, still barely sixteen, is said to have witnessed the murder from a window of the louvre, from which he cried, "great thanks to all; now at last i am king." the prince de condé, as leader of the insurgent princes, had been arrested and imprisoned in the palace but removed to the bastile. the mob, greatly incensed, attacked the louvre, but, unable to find him, failed to compass condé's release who was now transferred in the dead of night, "without torches," to vincennes. concini's house was next sacked, his body dragged from the grave, carried through the streets and subjected to every indignity, his nose and ears being cut off and the corpse burned. hatred of the queen's foreign favorites was not yet appeased. leonora galigai, the marquis d'ancre's widow, was brought to trial, her conviction being necessary before her property and estates could be confiscated and divided. she was duly arraigned but it was impossible to prove her complicity in her husband's misdeeds or to procure conviction of any crime involving capital punishment. the venue was therefore changed and she was accused of sorcery and witchcraft. it was said that she had attracted astrologers and magicians into france who brought with them spells and incantations, amulets, talismans, and all the apparatus of wax figures, to produce death by wasting disease. she was asked in court to confess by what magical arts she had gained her malign influence over the queen and she replied contemptuously, "by the power that strong minds exercise over weak ones." the case was certain to go against her, but she still hoped to escape with a sentence of banishment and it was a terrible shock when she was condemned to death for the crime of _lèse majesté_, human and divine. yet she faced her fate with marvellous fortitude. great crowds turned out to jeer at her as she was carried in a cart to the place de grève, but she maintained her composure until she saw the flames destined to consume her decapitated body, then quickly recovering herself, she met death without bravado and without fear. her son was imprisoned for some time in the castle of nantes and the concini property was chiefly divided between the king and the pope, clement vii. leonora galigai had originally been the queen's waiting woman for several years. of humble birth, the daughter of a carpenter, she had gained the complete confidence of her mistress by her soft voice and insinuating ways, and on coming to france, marie de medicis had insisted upon leonora's appointment as lady in waiting, although henry absolutely refused to appoint her until the queen gained her point by her importunities. by this time a new power was rising above the horizon, that of the bishop of luçon, afterwards, and better known as, cardinal richelieu. the cadet of a noble but not affluent family, he was intended for the career of arms but turned cleric in order to hold the bishopric of luçon, the presentation of which was hereditary in his house. by his talents he soon made his mark as a churchman. he was assiduous in his religious profession and an eloquent preacher, but his powerful mind and ambitious spirit presently turned him towards a political career. he arrived at paris in as the representative of the clergy of poitou in the states general and his insinuating manners and personal charm soon won him wide favor at court. he was presented to the queen mother, marie de medicis, by barbin, the controller-general of finances, and by the concinis, the above mentioned ill-fated marquis d'ancre and his wife, leonora galigai. he first became the queen's chaplain and next the secretary of state for war, barely escaping the evil consequences of his intimacy with the concinis. it is rumored in history that he knew of the intended assassination of d'ancre the night before it occurred but neglected to give warning on the plea that he did not believe the story and thought the news would wait. when the king and his mother quarrelled and marie de medicis withdrew to blois, richelieu accompanied her and served her without at first compromising himself with louis. he was at length ordered to leave her and retired to his bishopric. he was further exiled to the papal province of avignon, but was suddenly recalled and forgiven. he still devoted himself to the queen and was her chosen friend and adviser, services which she requited by securing him the cardinal's hat. richelieu soon showed his quality and rose step by step to the highest honors, becoming in due course, first minister of state. his success was due throughout to his prudent, far-seeing conduct and his incomparable adroitness in managing affairs. "he was so keen and watchful," said a contemporary, "that he was never taken unawares. he slept little, worked hard, thought of everything and knew everything either by intuition or through his painstaking indefatigable spirit." he was long viewed with suspicion and dislike by the young king, but presently won his esteem by his brilliant talents. he dazzled and compelled the admiration of all, even those opposed to him. his extraordinary genius was immediately made manifest; it was enough for him to show himself. his penetrating eye, the magnetism of his presence, his dexterity in untying knots and in solving promptly the most difficult problems, enabled him to dominate all tempers and overcome all resistance. his was a singularly persuasive tongue; he had the faculty of easily and effectually proving that he was always in the right. in a word, he exercised a great personal ascendency and was as universally feared as he was implicitly obeyed by all upon whom he imposed his authority. when he was nominated first minister, the venetian minister in paris wrote to his government, "here, humanly speaking, is a new power of a solid and permanent kind; one that is little likely to be shaken or quickly crumbled away." richelieu's steady and consistent aim was to consolidate an absolute monarchy. determined to conquer and crush the huguenots he made his first attack upon la rochelle, the great protestant stronghold, but was compelled to make terms with the rochelais temporarily while he devoted himself to the abasement of the great nobles forever in opposition to and intriguing against the reigning sovereign. headed by the princes of the blood, they continually resisted marie de medicis and engaged in secret conspiracy, making treasonable overtures to spain or openly raising the standard of revolt at home. with indomitable courage and an extraordinary combination of daring and diplomacy, richelieu conquered them completely. the secret of his success has been preserved in his own words, "i undertake nothing that i have not thoroughly thought out in advance; when i have once made up my mind i stick to it with unchangeable firmness, sweeping away all obstacles before me and treading them down under foot till they lie paralysed under my red robe." richelieu, in thus strenuously fighting for his policy, which he conceived was in the best interests of france, made unsparing use of the weapons placed at his disposal for coercing his enemies. foremost amongst these were the prisons of state, the bastile, vincennes and the rest, which he filled with prisoners, breaking them with repression, retribution, or more or less permanent removal from the busy scene. year after year the long procession passed in through the gloomy portals, in numbers far exceeding the movement outward, for few went out except to make the short journey to the scaffold. the cardinal's victims were many. amongst the earliest offenders upon whom his hand fell heavily in the very first year of his ministry, were those implicated in the ornano-chalais conspiracy. the object of this was to remove the king's younger brother, gaston, duc d'orleans, generally known as "monsieur," out of the hands of the court and set him up as a pretender to the throne in opposition to louis xiii. richelieu, in his memoirs, speaks of this as "the most fearful conspiracy mentioned in history, both as regards the number concerned and the horror of the design, which was to raise their master (monsieur) above his condition and abase the sacred person of the king." the cardinal himself was to have been a victim and was to be murdered at his castle of fleury, six miles from fontainebleau. when the plot was betrayed, the king sent a body of troops to fleury and the queen a number of her attendants. the conspirators were forestalled and the ringleaders arrested. the marshal d'ornano was taken at fontainebleau and with him his brother and some of his closest confidants. the marquis de chalais, who was of the famous house of talleyrand, was caught in the act at fleury, to which he had proceeded for the commission of the deed. he confessed his crime. there were those who pretended at the time that the plot was fictitious, invented by richelieu in order to get rid of some of his most active enemies. in any case, the marshal d'ornano died in the bastile within three months of his arrest and it was generally suspected that he had been poisoned, although richelieu would not allow it was other than a natural death. chalais had been sent to nantes, where he was put on trial, convicted, sentenced to death and eventually executed. the execution was carried out with great barbarity, for the headsman was clumsy and made thirty-two strokes with his sword before he could effect decapitation. the two vendômes, caesar, the eldest, and his brother, the grand prior, were concerned in the ornano-chalais conspiracy. caesar was the eldest son of henri iv by gabrielle d'estrées, but was legitimised and created a duke by his father, with precedence immediately after the princes of the blood. although louis' half-brother, he was one of his earliest opponents. after the detection of the plot he was cast into the prison of vincennes, where he remained for four years ( - ), but was released on surrendering the government of brittany and accepting exile. he was absent for eleven years, but on again returning to france was accused of an attempt to poison cardinal richelieu and again banished until that minister's death. he could not bring himself to submit to existing authority, and once more in france became one of the leaders of the party of the "importants" and was involved in the disgrace of the duc de beaufort, his son. having made his peace with cardinal mazarin in , he was advanced to several offices, among others to those of governor of burgundy and superintendent of navigation. he helped to pacify guienne and took bordeaux. the grand prior, his brother, became a knight of malta and saw service early at the siege of candia, where he showed great courage. he made the campaign of holland under louis xiv, after having been involved with chalais, and throughout showed himself a good soldier. richelieu's penalties were sometimes inflicted on other grounds than self-defense and personal animosity. the disturbers of public peace he treated as enemies of the state. thus he laid a heavy hand on all who were concerned in affairs of honor whether death ensued or not. his own elder brother had been killed in a duel, and he abhorred a practice which had so long decimated the country. it was calculated that in one year alone four thousand combatants had perished. king henry iv had issued the most severe edicts against it and had created a tribunal of marshals empowered to examine into and arrange all differences between gentlemen. one of these edicts of , prohibiting duels, laid down as a penalty for the offense, the confiscation of property and the imprisonment of the survivors. a notorious duellist, de bouteville, felt the weight of the cardinal's hand. he must have been a quarrelsome person for he fought on twenty-one occasions. after the last quarrel he retired into flanders and was challenged by a monsieur de beuvron. they returned to paris where they fought in the place royale, and bussy d'amboise, one of beuvron's seconds, was killed by one of de bouteville's. the survivors fled but were pursued and captured, with the result that de bouteville was put upon his trial before the regular courts. he was convicted and condemned to death. all the efforts on the part of influential friends, royal personages included, to obtain pardon having proved unavailing, he suffered in the place de grève. the pugnacity of this de bouteville was attributed by many to homicidal mania, and one nobleman declared that he would decline a challenge from him unless it was accompanied by a medical certificate of sanity. he had killed a number of his opponents and his reputation was such that when he established a fencing school at his residence in paris all the young noblemen flocked there to benefit by his lessons. richelieu used the bastile for all manner of offenders. one was the man farican, of whom he speaks in his "memoirs" as "a visionary consumed with vague dreams of a coming republic. all his ends were bad, all his means wicked and detestable.... his favorite occupation was the inditing of libellous pamphlets against the government, rendering the king odious, exciting sedition and aiming at subverting the tranquillity of the state. outwardly a priest, he held all good catholics in detestation and acted as a secret spy of the huguenots." an englishman found himself in the bastile for being at cross purposes with the cardinal. this was a so-called chevalier montagu, son of the english lord montagu and better known as "wat" montagu, who was much employed as a secret political agent between england and france. great people importuned the cardinal to release montagu. "the duke of lorraine," says richelieu, "has never ceased to beg this favor. he began with vain threats and then, with words more suitable to his position, sent the prince of phalsbourg to paris for the third time to me to grant this request." the duke having been gratified with this favor came in person to paris to thank the king. an entry in an english sheet dated april th, , runs, "the earl of carlisle will not leave suddenly because walter montagu is set free from france and has arrived at our court. the king says he has done him exceeding good service." it was montagu who brought good news from rochelle to the duke of buckingham on the very day he was assassinated. later in october, montagu had a conference with richelieu as to the exchange of prisoners at rochelle. richelieu's upward progress had not been unimpeded. the queen mother became his bitter enemy. marie de medicis was disappointed in him. he had not proved the humble, docile creature she looked for in one whom she had raised so high and her jealousy intensified as his power grew. she was a woman of weak character and strong passions, easily led astray by designing favorites, as was seen in the case of the concinis, and there is little doubt that the maréchal d'ancre was her lover. after his murder she was estranged from louis xiii, but was reconciled and joined with richelieu's enemies in ceaselessly importuning the king to break with his too powerful minister. she was backed by anne of austria, the wife of louis xiii; by "monsieur," the duc d'orleans and a swarm of leading courtiers in her efforts to sacrifice richelieu. the conflict ended in the so-called "day of dupes," when the minister turned the tables triumphantly upon his enemies. louis had retired to his hunting lodge near versailles to escape from his perplexities and richelieu followed him there, obtained an audience and put his own case before the king, whom he dazzled by unveiling his great schemes, and easily regained the mastery. his enemies were beaten and like craven hounds came to lick his feet; and like hounds, at once felt the whip. one of the first to suffer was the queen mother. she had no friends. every one hated her; her son, her creatures and supporters,--and the king again sent her into exile, this time to compiègne, where she was detained for a time. she presently escaped and left france to wander through europe, first to brussels, then to london and last of all to cologne, where she died in a garret in great penury. marie de medicis' had been an unhappy life. misfortune met her on the moment she came to france, for the king, her bridegroom, who had divorced his first wife, marguerite de valois, in the hopes of an heir by another wife, was much disappointed when he saw marie de medicis. she was by no means so good looking as he had been led to believe. she was tall, with a large coarse figure, and had great round staring eyes. there was nothing softly feminine and caressing in her ways, she had no gaiety of manner and was not at all the woman to attract or amuse the king's roving fancy,--the _vert galant_, the gay deceiver of a thousand errant loves. yet he was willing to be good friends and was strongly drawn to her after the birth of the dauphin, but was soon repelled again by her violent temper and generally detestable character. the establishment of the jesuits in france was marie's doing. she was suspected of duplicity in henry's assassination, but the foul charge rests on no good grounds. after becoming regent, she alienated the nobility by her favoritism and exasperated the people by her exorbitant tax levies to provide money for her wasteful extravagance and the prodigal gifts she bestowed. the one merit she possessed in common with her house was her patronage of arts and letters. she inspired the series of famous allegorical pictures, twenty-one in number, painted by rubens, embodying the life of marie de medicis. there was no love lost between the cardinal and the maréchal bassompierre, who paid the penalty for being on the wrong side in the famous "day of dupes" and found himself committed for a long imprisonment in the bastile. the marshal had offended richelieu by penetrating his designs against the nobility. when asked what he thought of the prospect of taking la rochelle, he had answered, "it would be a mad act for us, for we shall enable the cardinal, when he has overcome the calvinists, to turn all his strength against our order." it was early in that danger to his person began to threaten him. he was warned by the duc d'Épernon that the queen mother, of whose party bassompierre was, had been arrested and that others, including himself, were likely to get into trouble. the marshal asked the duc d'Épernon for his advice, who strongly urged him to get away, offering him at the same time a loan of fifty thousand crowns as a provision until better days came. the marshal refused this kind offer but resolved to present himself before the king and stand his ground. he would not compromise himself by a flight which would draw suspicion down on him and call his loyalty in question. he had served france faithfully for thirty years and was little inclined now that he was fifty to seek his fortune elsewhere. "i had given my king the best years of my life and was willing to sacrifice my liberty to him, feeling sure that it would be restored on better appreciation of my loyal services." bassompierre prepared for the worst like a man of the world. "i rose early next day and proceeded to burn more than six thousand love-letters received from ladies to whom i had paid my addresses. i was afraid that if arrested my papers would be seized and examined and some of these letters might compromise my old friends." he entered his carriage and drove to senlis where the king was in residence. here he met the duc de gramont and others who told him he would certainly be arrested. bassompierre again protested that he had nothing on his conscience. the king received him civilly enough and talked to him at length about the disagreement of the queen mother with cardinal richelieu, and then bassompierre asked point blank whether the king owed him any grudge. "how can you think such a thing," replied the treacherous monarch. "you know i am your friend," and left him. that evening the marshal supped with the duc de longueville and the king came in afterwards. "then i saw plainly enough," says bassompierre, "that the king had something against me, for he kept his head down, and touching the strings of his guitar, never looked at me nor spoke a single word. next morning i rose at six o'clock and as i was standing before the fire in my dressing-room, m. de launay, lieutenant of the body-guard, entered my room and said, 'sir, it is with tears in my eyes and with a bleeding heart that i, who, for twenty years have served under you, am obliged to tell you that the king has ordered me to arrest you.' "i experienced very little emotion and replied: 'sir, you will have no trouble, as i came here on purpose, having been warned. i have all my life submitted to the wishes of the king, who can dispose of me or my liberty as he thinks fit.'... shortly afterwards one of the king's carriages arrived in front of my lodging with an escort of mounted musketeers and thirty light horsemen. i entered the carriage alone with de launay. then we drove off, keeping two hundred paces in front of the escort, as far as the porte st.-martin, where we turned off to the left, and i was taken to the bastile. i dined with the governor, m. du tremblay, whom i afterwards accompanied to the chamber which had been occupied by the prince de condé, and in this i was shut up with one servant. "on the th, m. du tremblay came to see me on the part of the king, saying that his majesty had not caused me to be arrested for any fault that i had committed, holding me to be a good servant, but for fear i should be led into mischief, and he assured me that i should not remain long in prison, which was a great consolation. he also told me that the king had ordered him to allow me every liberty but that of leaving the bastile. he added another chamber to my lodging for the accommodation of my domestics. i retained only two valets and a cook, and passed two months without leaving my room, and i should not have gone out at all had i not been ill.... the king, it seems, had gone on a voyage as far as dijon, and on his return to paris i implored my liberty, but all in vain. i fell ill in the bastile of a very dangerous swelling, due to the want of fresh air and exercise and i began therefore to walk regularly on the terrace of the bastion." bassompierre was destined to see a good deal of that terrace, for the years slowly dragged themselves along with hope constantly deferred and no fulfilment of the promises of freedom so glibly extended to him. he was arrested in and in the following year heard he would in all probability be released at once; but, as he says, he was told this merely to redouble his sufferings. next year he had great hope of regaining his liberty and marshal schomberg sent him word that on the return of the king to paris he should leave the bastile. this year they deprived him of a portion of his salary and he was greatly disheartened, feeling "that he was to be eternally detained and from that time forth he lost all hope except in god." two years later ( ) the governor, monsieur du tremblay, congratulated him on his approaching release and the rumor was so strong that a number of friends came every day to the bastile to see if he was still there. these encouraging stories were repeated from month to month without any good result, and at length père joseph, "his gray eminence," richelieu's most confidential friend and brother of monsieur du tremblay, being at the bastile, promised the marshal to speak to the cardinal on his behalf. "i put no faith in him," writes bassompierre, and indeed nothing more was heard for a couple of years, but we find in the marshal's journal an entry to the effect that the king had told the cardinal it weighed on his conscience for having kept him in prison so long, seeing that there was nothing against him. "to which," says bassompierre, "the cardinal replied that he had so many things on his mind he could not remember the reason for the imprisonment or why he (richelieu) had advised it, but he would consult his papers and show them to the king." the poor marshal's dejection increased, having been detained so long in the bastile, "where he had nothing to do but pray god to speedily put an end to his long misery by liberty or death." the imprisonment outlasted the journal which ends in , and it was not until the death of the cardinal in that he at length obtained his release, just eleven years after his first committal to prison. he at once presented himself at court and was graciously received by the king who asked him his age. "fifty," replied bassompierre, "for i cannot count the years passed in the bastile as they were not spent in your majesty's service." he did not enjoy his freedom long, for he soon afterwards died from an apoplectic seizure. chapter v the people and the bastile anne of austria--her servant laporte--clandestine communication in the bastile--birth of dauphin, afterward louis xiv--cinq mars--his conspiracy--richelieu's death--his character and achievements--dubois the alchemist--regency of anne of austria--mazarin's influence--the "importants"--imprisonment and escape of duc de beaufort--growth of the fronde--attacks on bastile--de retz in vincennes--made archbishop of paris while in prison--peace restored--mazarin's later rule benign. richelieu throughout his ministry was exposed to the bitter enmity of the opposition; his enemies, princes and great nobles, were continually plotting to take his life. the king's brother, gaston, duc d'orleans, intrigued incessantly against him, supported by anne of austria, queen of louis xiii, who was ever in treasonable correspondence with the king of spain. richelieu, whose power waned for a time, strongly urged the queen's arrest and trial, but no more was done than to commit her most confidential servant, laporte, to the bastile. the queen herself was terrified into submission and made solemn confession of her misdeeds. she did not tell all, however, and it was hoped more might be extorted from laporte by the customary pressure. it was essential to warn laporte, but he was in a dungeon far beneath one of the towers and access to him seemed impossible. the story is preserved,--an almost incredible one, but vouched for in laporte's "memoirs,"--that a letter was conveyed to laporte by the assistance of another prisoner, the chevalier de jars. the letter was conveyed to de jars by one of the queen's ladies disguised as a servant, and he managed by boring a hole in his floor to pass it to the room below. here the occupants were friends, and in like manner they dug into the dungeon beneath them, with the result that laporte was eventually reached in his subterranean cell. fortified now by the fact of the queen's avowal, laporte conducted himself so well that the most searching examination elicited no further proofs. the process followed was in due course detected and richelieu was heard to lament that he did not possess so faithful a servant as laporte. the chevalier de jars, above mentioned, had been long an inmate of the bastile, being concerned with the keeper of the seals, chateauneuf, in a plot to convey marie de medicis and the king's brother, gaston, to england. no proof was forthcoming as to jars's complicity with chateauneuf, and he was treated with the utmost cruelty in order to extort confession. he was imprisoned in a fetid dungeon till his clothes rotted off his back, his hair and nails grew to a frightful length and he was nearly starved to death. père joseph, the cardinal's _alter ego_, the famous "grey eminence," constantly visited him to make sure that this rigorous treatment was carried out. at length the chevalier was taken out for examination, to which he was subjected eighty times, and threatened first with torture and then with capital punishment. at last he was warned that he must die and was removed to the place of execution. pardon, however, was extended to him just as the axe was raised. still the chevalier refused to make any revelation. he was taken back to the bastile, but he was no longer harshly treated. de jars seems to have won the favor of charles i, of england, whose queen, henrietta maria, wrote to richelieu begging for the prisoner's release. this came in , apparently a little after the episode of the clandestine letter described above. the birth of a son, afterwards louis xiv, put an end to the worst of these court intrigues. gaston d'orleans lost his position as heir presumptive and the king, while still hating richelieu, trusted him more and more with the conduct of affairs. fortune smiled upon the french arms abroad. richelieu had made short work of his principal enemies and he was now practically unassailable. no one could stand against him and the king was simply his servant. louis xiii would gladly have shaken himself free from his imperious minister's tyranny, but the king's health was failing and he could only listen to whispers of the fresh plots which he was too weak to discountenance and forbid. the last of these was the celebrated conspiracy of cinq mars, well known in history, but still better known in romantic literature as the subject of the famous novel by alfred de vigny, named after the central figure. richelieu, needing an ally near the king's person, had selected henri cinq mars, youngest son of the marquis d'effiat, a handsome, vain youth who quickly grew into the king's graces and was much petted and much spoiled. the young cinq mars, no more than nineteen, amused the king by sharing his silly pleasures, teaching him to snare magpies and helping him to carve wooden toys. cinq mars was appointed master of the horse and was greatly flattered and made much of at court. his head was soon turned and filled with ambitious dreams. he aspired to the hand of the princess marie de gonzague of the house of nevers and made a formal proposition of himself to richelieu. the cardinal laughed contemptuously at his absurd pretensions, and earned in return the bitter hatred of cinq mars. the breach was widened by the king's bad taste in introducing his favorite at a conference of the privy council. richelieu quietly acquiesced but afterwards gave cinq mars a bit of his mind, gaining thereby redoubled dislike. from that time forth cinq mars was resolved to overthrow the cardinal. he found ready support from the duc d'orleans and the duc de bouillon, while the king himself was not deaf to the hints of a speedy release from richelieu's thraldom. only the queen, anne of austria, stood aloof and was once more on friendly terms with the cardinal. a secret treaty had been entered into with philip iv of spain, who was to further the aims of the conspirators by sending troops into france. the two countries were then at war and it was high treason to enter into dealings with spain. just when the plot was ripe for execution an anonymous packet was brought to richelieu at tarascon, whither he had proceeded with the king to be present at the relief of perpignan. this packet contained a facsimile of the traitorous treaty with philip iv and cinq mars's fate was sealed. the king with great reluctance signed an order for the arrest of cinq mars, who was taken in the act of escaping on horseback. de thou, another of the conspirators, was taken with the duc de bouillon, while the duc d'orleans fled into auvergne and wandered to and fro, proscribed and in hiding. the only crime that could be advanced against de thou was that he was privy to the plot and had taken no steps to reveal it. cinq mars was now abandoned by the king, who left him to the tender mercies of richelieu. this resulted in his being brought to trial at lyons, but he contrived to send a message appealing for mercy to the king. it reached the foolish, fickle monarch when he was in the act of making toffy in a saucepan over the fire. "no, no, i will give cinq mars no audience," said louis, "his soul is as black as the bottom of this pan." cinq mars suffered on the block and comported himself with a fortitude that won him sympathy; for it was remembered that his faults had been fostered by the exaggerated favoritism shown him. de thou was also decapitated after his associate, and, not strangely, was unnerved by the sight which he had witnessed. the duc de bouillon was pardoned at the price of surrendering his ancestral estate of sedan to the crown. this was richelieu's last act of retaliation. he returned to paris stricken with mortal disease. he travelled by slow stages in a litter borne by twelve gentlemen of his entourage, who marched bareheaded. on reaching paris, he rapidly grew worse and louis xiii paid him a farewell visit on his deathbed. on taking leave of his master he reminded him of the singular services he had rendered france, saying: "in taking my leave of your majesty i behold your kingdom at the highest pinnacle it has hitherto reached and all your enemies have been banished or removed." the tradition is preserved that upon this solemn occasion he strenuously urged the king to appoint mazarin as his successor. the italian cardinal was brought into the council the day after richelieu's death and from the first appears to have exercised a strong influence over the king. the means and methods of the two statesmen were in great contrast. richelieu imposed his will by sheer force of character and the terror he inspired. mazarin, soft-mannered and supple-backed, worked with infinite patience and triumphed by duplicity and astuteness. richelieu's constant aim was to establish the absolute power of the monarchy, and to aggrandize france among nations. his internal government was arbitrary and often extremely cruel and he was singularly deficient in financial ability. he had no idea of raising money but by the imposition of onerous taxes and never sought to enrich france by encouraging industries and developing the natural resources of the country. a strong, self-reliant, highly intelligent and gifted man, he was nevertheless a slave to superstition and the credulous dupe of fraudulent impostures. it will always be remembered against him that he believed in alchemy and the virtue of the so-called philosopher's stone; yet more, that he was responsible for the persecution and conviction of urban grandier, a priest condemned as a magician, charged with bewitching the nuns of poictou. it was gravely asserted that these simple creatures were possessed of devils through the malignant influence of grandier, and many pious ecclesiastics were employed to exorcise the evil spirits. the story as it comes down to us would be farcical and absurd were it not so repulsively horrible. the nuns believed to be afflicted were clearly the victims of emotional hysteria. they exhibited the strangest and most extravagant grimaces and contortions, were thrown into convulsions and foamed and slavered at the mouth. the ceremony of exorcism was carried out with great solemnity, and it is seriously advanced that the admonition had such surprising effects that the devils straightway took flight into the air. the whole story was conveyed to cardinal richelieu by his familiar, père joseph, who declared that he had seen the evil spirits at work and had observed many nuns and lay-sisters when they were possessed. the cardinal thereupon gave orders for grandier's arrest and trial, which was conducted with great prolixity and unfairness. the evidence adduced against him was preposterous. among other statements, it was claimed that he exhibited a number of the devil's marks upon his body and that he was so impervious to pain that when a needle was thrust into him to the depth of an inch, it had no effect and no blood issued. grandier's defence was a solemn denial of the charges, but according to the existing procedure, he was put to the "question," subjected to most cruel torture, ordinary and extraordinary, to extort confession of the guilt which he would not acknowledge. he was in due course formally convicted of the crimes of magic and sorcery and sentenced to make the _amende honorable_; to be led to the public place of holy cross in loudun and there bound to a stake on a wooden pile and burned alive. the records state that he bore his punishment with constancy accompanied with great self-denial, and declare that a certain unaffected air of piety which hypocrisy cannot counterfeit was shown in his aspect. on the other hand one bigoted chronicler of the period declares that, during the ceremony, a flying insect like a wasp was observed to buzz about grandier's head. this gave a monk occasion to say that it was beelzebub hovering around him to carry away his soul to hell,--this for the reason that beelzebub signifies in hebrew the god of flies. it is difficult to understand how richelieu could suffer himself to be beguiled into accepting the promises made by an unscrupulous adventurer to turn the baser metals into gold. but for a space he certainly believed in noël pigard dubois, a man who, after following for some time his father's profession of surgery, abandoned it in order to go to the levant, where he spent four years in the study of occult science. on returning to paris he employed his time in the same pursuit, chiefly associating with dissolute characters. a sudden fit of devotion made him enter a monastery, but he soon grew tired of the irksome restraints he there experienced, and, scaling the walls of his retreat, effected his escape. three years after this he once more resolved to embrace a monastic life, took the vows and was ordained a priest. in this new course he persevered for ten years, at the end of which time he fled to germany, became a lutheran, and devoted himself to the quest of the philosopher's stone. dissatisfied with this mode of life, he again visited paris, abjured the protestant religion, and married under a fictitious name. as he now boldly asserted that he had discovered the secret of making gold, he soon grew into repute and was at last introduced to richelieu and the king, both of whom, with singular gullibility, gave full credence to his pretensions. it was arranged that dubois should perform the "great work" in the louvre, the king, the queen, the cardinal, and other illustrious personages of the court being present. in order to lull all suspicion, dubois requested that some one might be appointed to watch his proceedings. accordingly saint-amour, one of the king's body-guard, was selected for this purpose. musket balls, given by a soldier together with a grain of the "powder for projection," were placed in a crucible covered with cinders and the furnace fire was soon raised to a proper heat. when dubois declared the transmutation accomplished, he requested the king to blow off the ashes from the crucible. this louis did with so much ardor that he nearly blinded the queen and the courtiers with the dust he raised. but when his efforts were rewarded by seeing at the bottom of the crucible the lump of gold which by wonderful sleight of hand dubois had contrived to introduce into it, despite the presence of so many witnesses, the king warmly embraced the alchemist. then he ennobled him and appointed him president of the treasury. dubois repeated the same trick several times with equal success. but an obstacle which he might from the first have anticipated occurred. he soon grew unable to satisfy the eager demands of his protectors, who longed for something more substantial than insignificant lumps of gold. some idea of their avidity may be conceived when it is known that richelieu alone required him to furnish a weekly sum of about £ , . although dubois asked for a delay, which he obtained, he was of course unable to comply with these extravagant demands, and was in consequence imprisoned in vincennes, whence he was transferred to the bastile. the vindictive minister, unwilling to acknowledge that he had been duped, instead of punishing dubois as an impostor, accused him of practising magic and appointed a commission to try him. as the unhappy alchemist persisted in asserting his innocence he was put to the torture. his sufferings induced him in order to gain respite to offer to fulfil the promises with which he had formerly deceived his patrons. their credulity was apparently not yet exhausted, for they allowed him to make another experiment. having again failed in this, he confessed his imposture, was sentenced to death and accordingly perished on the scaffold. a host of warring elements was forced into fresh activity by the death of richelieu, soon followed by that of the king. louis xiii, in his will, bequeathed the regency to his widowed queen, anne of austria, and her accession to power stirred up many active malcontents all eager to dispute it. the feudal system had faded, but the great nobles still survived and were ready to fight again for independence if the executive were weakened; while parliaments were ready to claim a voice in government and curtail the prerogatives not yet wholly conceded to the sovereign. the long minority of louis xiv was a period of continual intrigue. france was torn by party dissension and cursed with civil war. if we would understand the true state of affairs and realise the part played by the two great prisons, vincennes and the bastile, and the principal personages incarcerated within their walls, a brief résumé of events will prove helpful. anne of austria was not a woman of commanding ability. she was kind hearted, well-intentioned, of sufficiently noble character to forget her own likes and dislikes, and really desirous of ruling in the best interests of the country. her situation was one of extraordinary difficulty and, not strangely, she was inclined to lean upon the best support that seemed to offer itself. cardinal mazarin was a possible successor to richelieu and well fitted to continue that powerful minister's policy. the queen was willing to give mazarin her full confidence and was aghast when he talked of withdrawing permanently to rome. she now desired him to remain and take charge of the ship of state, but his elevation gave great umbrage to his many opponents at court, and the desire to undermine, upset and even to assassinate mazarin was the cause of endless intrigues and conspiracies. the cabal of the "importants" was the first to overcome. it consisted of richelieu's chief victims now returned from banishment, or released from gaol; princes of the blood and great nobles aiming at recovered influence, and the queen's favorites counting upon her unabated friendship. they gave themselves such airs and their pretensions were so high that they gained the ironical sobriquet of "the important people." mazarin, when they threatened him, made short work of them. the duc de beaufort, second son of the duc de vendôme, handsome of person but an inordinate swaggerer, whose rough manners and coarse language had gained him the epithet of "king of the markets," was arrested and shut up in vincennes. intriguing duchesses were once more exiled and the principal nobles sent to vegetate on their estates. a new power now arose; that of the victorious young general, the duc d'enghien, the eldest son of the prince de condé, afterwards known as the "great condé." he became the hero of the hour and so great was his popularity that had he been less self-confident and more willing to join forces with the duc d'orleans, "monsieur," the young king's uncle, he would have become a dangerous competitor to mazarin. d'enghien soon succeeded to the family honors and continued to win battles and to be an unknown quantity in politics capable at any time of throwing his weight on either side. the next serious conflict was with the parliament of paris, ever eager to vindicate its authority and importance and to claim control of the financial administration of france. the french treasury was as ill-managed as ever and the parliament was resolved to oppose the proposed taxation. extreme misery prevailed in the land. the peasants were ground down into the most wretched poverty, and were said to have "nothing left to them but their souls; and these also would have been seized, but that they would fetch nothing at the hammer." the parliament backed up the cry for reform, and mazarin, to check and intimidate it, decided to arrest two of its most prominent members. the aged broussel was sent to the bastile and blancmesnil was thrown into the castle of vincennes. these arbitrary acts drove the parisian populace into open revolt. broussel's immediate release was demanded and obstinately refused until the disturbances increased and barricades were formed, when the queen, at last terrified, surrendered her prisoner. the next day she left paris, taking the young king with her, declaring that she would return with troops to enforce submission. condé, who had returned from the army with fresh successes, advised conciliation, being secretly anxious to support those who would cripple the growing authority of mazarin. peace was restored, at least on the surface, and the queen once more returned to paris. but she was almost a prisoner in her palace and when she appeared in public her carriage was followed by a hooting mob. she again planned to disappear from paris and send the royal army to blockade it. in the dead of a winter's night the whole court, carrying the king, fled to st. germain where no preparations had been made to receive them. for days they were short of food, fuel and the commonest necessaries. but a stern message was dispatched to the people of paris, intimating the immediate advance of a body of twelve thousand troops. the capital was abashed but not greatly alarmed, and was prepared for defence and for the support of parliament. the question of the moment was that of leadership, and choice lay between the prince de condé, the great condé's brother, and the duc d'elboeuf, who was appointed with the certainty that condé would not submit to him. the duc de beaufort was also available, for he had succeeded in escaping from vincennes. a brief account of his evasion may well find place here. chavigny, a former minister, was governor of the prison, and no friend to beaufort. but cardinal mazarin did not trust to that, and special gaolers were appointed to ensure the prince's safe custody. ravile, an officer of the king's body-guard, and six or seven troopers kept him constantly under eye, and slept in the prisoner's room. beaufort was not permitted to retain his own servants about him, but his friends managed to secure the employment of a valet, supposed to be in hiding to escape the consequences of a fatal duel in which he had killed his man. this mysterious retainer exhibited the most violent dislike of beaufort and treated him openly with insolent rudeness. on the day of pentecost, when many of the guards were absent at mass, beaufort was permitted to exercise on the gallery below the level of his regular apartment, with a single companion, an officer of the garde du corps. the valet above mentioned had taken his seat at table with the rest, but suddenly rose, feigning illness, and leaving the dining room locked the door behind him. rejoining the duke the two threw themselves upon the officer, whom they overpowered and bound and gagged. a ladder of ropes, already prepared, was produced and fastened to the bars of the window, and the fugitives went down into the moat by means of it. meanwhile, half a dozen confederates had been stationed below and beyond the moat to assist in the escape, and were in waiting, watching the descent. unfortunately the ladder proved too short by some feet. a long drop was necessary, in which beaufort, a stalwart figure, fell heavily and was so seriously hurt that he fainted. further progress was arrested until he regained consciousness. then a cord was thrown across the moat and the prince was dragged over by his attendants, who carried him to a neighboring wood where he was met by fifty armed men on horseback. he mounted, although in great bodily pain, and galloped off, forgetting his sufferings in his delight at freedom regained. beaufort fled to a distant estate of his father's, where he remained in safety until the sword was drawn, when he promptly proceeded to paris and was received with open arms after his imprisonment and long absence. his popularity was widespread and extravagantly manifested. the market women in particular lavished signs of affection on him and smothered him with kisses. later, when it was believed that he had been poisoned by mazarin and had applied to the doctors for an antidote, the mob was convulsed with alarm at his illness. immense crowds surrounded the hotel de vendôme. so great was the concourse, so deep the anxiety that the people were admitted to see him lying pale and suffering on his bed; and many of them threw themselves on their knees by his bedside and wept pitifully, calling him the saviour of his country. the moving spirit of the fronde was really gondi, better known afterwards as cardinal de retz, who had been appointed coadjutor-archbishop of paris. he was a strange character who played many parts, controlled great affairs, exercised a supreme authority and dictated terms to the crown. his youth had been stormy, and although he was an ordained ecclesiastic, he hated the religious profession. he led a vicious, irregular life, was a libertine and conspirator, fought a couple of duels and tried to abduct a cousin. none of these evil deeds could release him from his vows, and being permanently, arbitrarily committed to the church, his ambition led him to seek distinction in it. studying theology deeply and inclining to polemics, he became a noted disputant, argued points of doctrine in public with a protestant and won him back to the bosom of the catholic church. it was louis xiii who, on his death-bed, in reward for this conversion, named him coadjutor. gondi was possessed of great eloquence and preached constantly in the cathedral to approving congregations. he was essentially a demagogue on the side of the popular faction. despite his often enthusiastic following, his position was generally precarious, and when the opposing parties made peace he fell into disgrace. in the midst of his thousand intrigues he was suddenly arrested and carried to vincennes as a prisoner. when at length he escaped from nantes, to which he had been transferred, his reappearance produced no effect and he wandered to and fro through europe, neglected and despised. his only fame rests on a quality he esteemed the least, that of literary genius, for his "memoirs," which he wrote in the quiet years of latter life, still hold a high place in french literature. the wars of the fronde lasted with varying fortunes for five distressful years. this conflict owed its name to the boyish parisian game of slinging stones. the sling, or _fronde_, was the weapon they used and the combatants continually gathered to throw stones at each other, quickly dispersing at the appearance of the watch. the queen was implacably resolved to coerce the insurgents. the parisians, full of fight, raised men and money in seemingly resolute, but really half-hearted resistance. condé commanded the royal army, blockaded paris for six weeks and starved the populace into submission. the earlier successes had been with the city. the bastile had been attacked and its governor, monsieur du tremblay, the brother of père joseph, "his grey eminence," capitulated, hopeless of holding out with his small garrison of twenty-two men. the conflict never rose above small skirmishes and trifling battles. the civic forces had no military value. the streets were filled with light-hearted mobs who watched their leaders disporting gaily in dances and entertainments at the hotel de ville. condé, on the other hand, was in real earnest. he attacked the suburbs and carried serious war into the heart of the city. the insurgents prepared to treat, and mazarin, who feared that the surrender of paris to condé would make that prince dictator of france, consented. he agreed to grant an amnesty, to reduce taxation and bring the king back to paris. condé now went into opposition. he posed as the saviour of the court, and as the nobles crowded round him he grew more and more overbearing. mazarin had now secured the support of gondi by promising to obtain for him the cardinal's hat and he detached the other leaders of the fronde by liberal bribes. the final stroke was the sudden arrest of condé and with him two other princes, conti and longueville. the volatile parisians were overjoyed at the sight of the great general being escorted to vincennes. peace might have been permanently established had not mazarin played the coadjutor false by now refusing him the cardinal's hat, and gondi therefore incited his friends to fresh rebellion. a strong combination insisted upon the dismissal of mazarin and the release of the three princes. they had been removed for safe custody to havre, where mazarin went in person to set them free. he would have made terms with them, but they resisted his advances and returned to paris in triumph, where the parliament during mazarin's absence had condemned mazarin to death in effigy. mazarin now withdrew altogether from france to cologne where he still directed the queen's policy. a fresh conflict was imminent. gondi was gained by a new promise of a cardinalate for him and the opposing forces gathered together for war. condé was now hostile. with him were gaston, duc d'orleans, the dukes of beaufort and nemours and other great nobles. gaston's daughter, the intrepid, "grande mademoiselle," above all feminine weakness, took personal command of a part of the army. turenne, one of the greatest soldiers of his time, led the royal troops against her. condé made a bold but fruitless attempt to capture the court. he then marched on paris pursued by turenne's forces. a fight ensued in the suburb of saint antoine, where condé became entangled and was likely to be overwhelmed. he was saved by the "grande mademoiselle," who helped him to carry his troops through paris and covered the movement by entering the bastile in person, the guns of which were opened upon the royal troops. this was the final action in the civil war. the people, wearied of conflict, clamored loudly for peace. one obstacle was the doubtful attitude of cardinal de retz, who throughout this later phase had pretended to be on the side of the court. he, however, was still bent on rebellion. he garrisoned and fortified his house and laid in ammunition and it was essential to take sharp measures with him. he was beguiled for a time with fair appearances, but the queen was already planning his removal from the scene. one day cardinal de retz came to pay his homage and, on leaving the king's apartments, was arrested by the captain of the guard. the cardinal has told his story at length in his extremely interesting "memoirs." some of his friends knew of the fate impending but were too late to warn him and help him to escape, as they proposed, by the kitchen entrance of the louvre. when taken they brought in dinner and he eat heartily much to the surprise of the attendant courtiers. after a delay of three hours he entered a royal carriage with several officers and drove off under a strong escort of gendarmes and light horse, for the news of his arrest had got out and had caused an immense sensation in paris. all passed off smoothly, for those who threatened rescue were assured that on the first hostile sign, de retz would be killed. the prisoner arrived at vincennes between eight and nine o'clock in the evening and was shown into a large, bare chamber without bed, carpet or fire; and in it he shivered at this bitter christmas season, for a whole fortnight. the servant they gave him was a ruffian who stole his clothes, his shoes and his linen, and he was compelled to stay constantly in bed. he was allowed books but no paper or ink. he passed his time in the study of greek and latin and when permitted to leave his room he kept doves, pigeons and rabbits. he entered into a clandestine correspondence with his friends, pondering ever upon the possibilities of escape, for he had little or no hope of release otherwise. now fortune played into de retz's hands. his uncle, the archbishop of paris, died, and the coadjutor, although a prisoner, was entitled to succeed. before the breath was out of the deceased's body, an agent took possession of the archbishop's palace in the coadjutor's name, forestalling the king's representative by just twenty minutes. de retz was a power and had to be counted with. he was close in touch with all the parish clergy and through them could stir up the people to fresh revolt which the great ecclesiastics, chafing at the incarceration of their chief, the archbishop, would undoubtedly support. moreover, the pope had written from rome an indignant protest against the arrest of a prince of the church. the situation was further embittered by a sad occurrence. a canon of the notre dame had been placed by the chapter near the archbishop to take his orders for the administration of the diocese, and this aged priest, suffering from the confinement, lost his health and committed suicide. the death was attributed to the severity of the imprisonment and sympathy for de retz redoubled, fanned into flame by incendiary sermons from every pulpit in paris. the court now wished to temporise and overtures were made to de retz to resign the archbishopric. he was offered in exchange the revenues of seven wealthy abbeys, but stubbornly refused. he was advised by his friends not to yield as the only means to recover his liberty, but he finally agreed to accept the proffered exchange and pending the approval of the holy see was transferred from vincennes to the prison of nantes at the mouth of the loire. here his treatment was softened. he was permitted to amuse himself, to receive visitors of both sexes and to see theatrical performances within the castle. he was still a close prisoner and there was a guard of the gate sentinels on his rooms; but he bore it all bravely, being buoyed up with the hope of approaching release. a bitter disappointment was in store for him. the pope refused to accept his resignation on the grounds that it had been extorted by force and was dated from the interior of a prison. the attitude of his gaolers changed towards him as he was suspected of foul play and he was secretly apprised that he would probably be carried further out of the world and removed to brest. he was strongly advised to attempt escape. one idea was that he should conceal himself in a capacious mule trunk and be carried out as part of a friend's baggage. the prospect of suffocation deterred the cardinal and he turned his thoughts to another method. this was the summer season and the river was low and a space was left at the foot of the castle wall. the prisoner was in the habit of exercising in a garden close at hand, and it was arranged that four gentlemen devoted to him should take their posts here on a certain afternoon. there was a gate at the bottom of the garden placed there to prevent the soldiers from stealing the grapes. above was a kind of terrace on which the sentries guarding de retz were stationed. the cardinal managed to pass into this garden unobserved and he came upon a rope so placed as to assist him in sliding down to the lower level. here a horse was awaiting him, which he mounted and galloped away, closely followed by his friends. their way led through streets where they encountered a couple of guards and exchanged shots with them. all went well until de retz's horse shied at the glitter of a ray of sunlight, stumbled and fell. the cardinal was thrown and broke his collar bone. both horse and man were quickly got on their feet and the fugitive, though suffering horribly, remounted and continued his flight. the party reached the river in safety, but when embarking on the ferry-boat de retz fainted and was taken across unconscious. there was no hope of his being able to ride further and while some of them went in search of a vehicle, the others concealed the cardinal in a barn, where he remained for seven hours, suffering terribly. at last, help came, about two o'clock in the morning, and he was carried on a litter to another farm where he was laid upon the soft hay of a stack. he remained here until his safety was assured by the arrival of a couple of hundred gentlemen, adherents of the de retz family, for he was now in the de retz country. this successful escape caused much alarm in court circles, for it was feared that de retz would reappear at once in paris, but he was too much shaken by the accident to engage actively in public affairs. he remained in obscurity and at last withdrew from the country. he afterwards became reconciled to the royal power, serving louis xiv loyally at rome as ambassador to the papal conclave. on the removal of the great demagogue from the scene, mazarin returned to paris. the people were well disposed to receive him and his re-entry was in its way a triumph. the king went many miles out to meet and welcome him, and the italian minister, long so detested, drove into the capital amidst the most enthusiastic acclamations. the most important personages in the realm vied with each other to do him honor, many who had long labored for his destruction now protesting the most ardent attachment to him. mazarin took his fortune at the flood and bearing no malice, if he felt any, by no means sought to avenge himself on those who had so long hated and opposed him. he resumed his place as chief minister and the remainder of his rule was mild and beneficent. disturbances still occurred in france, but they were not of a serious nature. conspiracies were formed but easily put down and were followed by no serious reprisals. the punishments he inflicted seldom extended to life and limb, for he had a strong abhorrence of bloodshed and he preferred the milder method of imprisonment. he waged unceasing war against depredators who infested the capital and parts of the country. highway robbery had increased and multiplied during the long dissensions of the civil war. mazarin was bitterly opposed to duelling as was his predecessor, richelieu, and he wished to keep the courtiers in good humor. indeed he directly fostered a vice to which he was himself addicted, that of the gaming table. he was a persistent gambler and it has been hinted that he thought it no discredit to take advantage of his adversary. never, perhaps, in any age or country was there a greater addiction to play. vast sums were won and lost in the course of an evening. on one occasion fouquet, the notorious minister of finance of whom i shall have much more to say, won , livres (roughly £ , ) in one deal. gourville won as much from the duc de richelieu in less than ten minutes. single stakes ran to thousands of pounds, and estates, houses, rich lace and jewels of great price were freely put up at the table. chapter vi the man with the iron mask louis xiv asserts himself--his use of state prisons--procedure of reception at the bastile--life in the prison--diet and privileges--governing staff--de besmaus--saint mars--fouquet's fate foreshadowed--fête at vaux--king enraged--fouquet arrested at nantes--lodged in the bastile--sentence changed from exile to perpetual imprisonment--removed to pignerol--dies in prison--man with the iron mask--basis of mystery--various suppositions--identical with count mattioli--origin of stories about him--dies in the bastile. the latter years of mazarin's government were free from serious disturbances at home and his foreign policy was distinctly beneficial to france. he governed firmly, but in the name of the king, who already evinced the strength of will and vigor of mind which were shortly to make the royal authority absolute in france. louis xiv was still in his teens, but already he would brook no opposition from rebellious nobles or a litigious parliament. one day he entered the chamber, booted and spurred just as he came from hunting at vincennes, and plainly told the members of parliament assembled there to prepare some fresh remonstrance, that he would tolerate no more of their meetings. "i know, gentlemen, the mischief that comes from them, and i will not permit them in the future." the president protested that it was in the interests of the state. "i am the state," replied the young despot of seventeen. the country was entirely with him. all classes were sick of commotions and hailed the new authority with every demonstration of joy. mazarin, no doubt, aided the development of louis's character. "there is enough in louis," he had been heard to say, "to make four good kings and one honest man," and it was under the cardinal's counsels that louis developed his political education. france was now entering upon one of the most brilliant periods of her history. mazarin had prosecuted the war with spain so vigorously that she was prepared to come to terms. he contracted an alliance with protestant cromwell which resulted in substantial gains to england. peace with spain and the marriage of louis to a spanish princess were the last acts of mazarin, whose constantly failing health showed that death was near. now, when the end was approaching, he had reached the pinnacle of his fortunes. no longer the hated, proscribed and persecuted minister, he enjoyed the fullest honors and the most unbounded popularity. he had grown enormously rich, for avarice was a ruling vice with him and he had uncontrolled access to the national purse. at his death he left some fifty million livres in cash, owned many palaces filled with priceless statues and pictures, and jewels of inestimable value. his conscience appears to have troubled him as death approached; he sought to silence it by making over all his possessions to the king, who speedily silenced mazarin's scruples by returning them as a royal gift. not strangely, under such government, the finances of france were at their very lowest ebb. the financial incompetence of mazarin, coupled with his greed, had left the treasury empty, and when louis asked fouquet for money he got for answer, "there is none in the treasury, but ask his eminence to lend you some, he has plenty." fortunately for france, mazarin had introduced into the king's service one of the most eminent financiers who ever lived, colbert, and it is reported that when dying he said, "i owe your majesty everything; but by giving you my own intendant, colbert, i shall repay you." colbert became louis's secret adviser, for fouquet purposely complicated accounts and craftily contrived to tell the king nothing. one of colbert's first acts was to reveal to the king that cardinal mazarin, over and above the great fortune he left openly to his family, had a store of wealth hidden away in various fortresses. louis promptly laid hands upon it and was in consequence the only rich sovereign of his time in europe. in the long period of irresponsible despotism now at hand, the prisons were destined to play a prominent part. no one was safe from arbitrary arrest. the right of personal liberty did not exist. every one, the highest and the lowest, the most criminal and the most venial offender, might come within the far reaching hands of the king's gaolers. both the "wood," as vincennes was commonly called, and the bastile, the "castle with the eight towers," were constantly crowded with victims of arbitrary power. it was an interminable procession as we shall presently see. let us first describe the procedure in arrest, the reception of prisoners and their daily régime within the great fortress gaol. it has been claimed that the system in force was regulated with the most minute care. as imprisonment might be decreed absolutely and without question, a great responsibility was supposed to weigh upon officials. in the first instance the bastile was under the immediate control of a minister of state, for a long time a high official. he received an accurate and exact list of all arrests made, and rendered to the king an account of all remaining at the end of each year. the order for arrest was hedged in with all precaution. each _lettre de cachet_ bore the king's own signature countersigned by a minister, and the governor of the bastile signed a receipt for the body at the end of the order. in some cases, prisoners of distinction brought their own warrants of arrest; but the court also signed an order to receive them, without which admission would be refused. in due course, when louis xiv had fully established his police, arrests were made by the _lieutenant-criminel_, whose agent approached and touched his intended prisoner with a white wand. a party of archers of the guard followed in support. a carriage was always employed; the first that came to hand being impressed into the king's service. into this the prisoner mounted with the officer making the arrest by his side. the escort surrounded the carriage and the party marched at a foot's pace through the silent, over-awed crowd. in many cases to avoid gossip, the agent took his prisoner to a place he kept for the purpose, a private house commonly called the _four_ (oven) and the remainder of the journey to the bastile was made after dark. the party was challenged as it approached the bastile. the first sentinel cried, "who goes there?" the agent replied, "the king's order;" and the under officer of the guard came out to examine the _lettre de cachet_ when, if all was correct, he allowed the carriage to enter and rang the bell to inform all concerned. the soldiers of the garrison turned out under arms, the king's lieutenant and the captain of the gateway guard received the prisoner as he alighted from the carriage. if the governor was in the castle the new prisoner was conducted immediately into his presence. a short colloquy followed. it was decided in which part of the castle the new comer should be lodged. he was then taken into an adjoining apartment to be thoroughly searched and was deprived of arms, money and papers. no one but the officials and those specially authorised by the king were permitted to carry arms in the bastile. all visitors surrendered their swords at the gate. now the drawbridge was let down and admission given to the inner court, whence the prisoner passed on, escorted by turnkeys, to the lodging assigned to him. if he was a person of distinction, he found a suite of rooms; if of low degree he was thrown into one of the cells in the towers. new arrivals were detained for several days in separation until the interrogatory instituted gave some idea of the fate foreshadowed. rooms in the bastile were not supplied with furniture. the king only guaranteed food for his guests, and they were obliged to hire what they needed unless their friends sent in the necessary articles. later on, the king provided a special fund for the purpose of buying furniture, and five or six rooms came to be regularly furnished with a bed, a table and a couple of chairs. in rare cases servants were admitted to attend their masters, but the warders generally kept the rooms in order. if the preliminary inquiry was lengthy or the imprisonment promised to be prolonged, the prisoner was given a companion of his own class and quality whose business it was to worm his way into his confidence and eventually to betray it. these were the _moutons_, or spies of latter days. every prison chamber was closed with a double gate with enormous locks and an approaching visitor was heralded by the rattling of the keys. the warders came regularly three times a day: first for breakfast, next for dinner at mid-day and to bring supper in the evening. the dietary in the bastile is said to have been wholesome and sufficient. the allowance made to the governor who acted as caterer was liberal. some prisoners were so satisfied with it that they offered to accept simpler fare if the governor would share with them the difference saved between the outlay and the allowance. there were three courses at meals: soup, entrée and joint with a dessert and a couple of bottles of wine per head, while the governor sent in more wine on fête days. reduction of diet was a common punishment, but the offenders were seldom put upon bread and water treatment, which was thought so rigorous that it was never used except by the express orders of the court. the king paid for ordinary rations only. luxuries such as tobacco, high-class wine and superior viands prisoners found for themselves, and these were charged against their private funds, held by the authorities. some smoked a good deal, but many complaints against the practice were made by other prisoners. the keeping of pets was not forbidden; there were numbers of dogs, cats and birds in cages and even pigeons which were set free in the morning and returned every evening after spending the day in town. but these last were looked upon with suspicion as facilitating correspondence with the outside. the surgeon of the castle attended to the sick, but in bad cases one of the king's physicians was called in and nurses appointed. when death approached a confessor was summoned to administer the rites of the church, and upon death a proper entry was made in the mortuary register, but often under a false name. time passed heavily, no doubt, but the prisoners were not denied certain relaxations. they might purchase books subject to approval. when brought in they were scrupulously examined and the binding broken up in the search for concealed documents. where prisoners did not care to read they were permitted to play draughts, chess and even cards. writing materials were issued, but with a very niggardly hand. a larger consideration was extended to those given the so-called "liberty of the bastile." the doors were opened early and they were permitted to enter the courtyard and remain there until nightfall, being allowed to talk, to play certain games and to receive visits from their friends. such relaxations were chiefly limited to non-criminal prisoners, those detained for family reasons, officers under arrest, and prisoners, whose cases were disposed of but who were still detained for safe custody. the well-being of the inmates of the bastile was supposed to be ensured by the constant visits of the superior officials, the king's lieutenant, the governor and his major. permission to address petitions to the ministers was not denied and many heart-rending appeals are still to be read in the archives, emanating from people whose liberty had been forfeited. clandestine communications between prisoners kept strictly apart were frequently successful, as we have seen; old hands exhibited extraordinary cleverness in their desire to talk to their neighbors. they climbed the chimneys, crawled along the outer bars or raised their voices so as to be heard on the floor above or below. much ingenuity was shown in utilising strange articles as writing materials; the drumstick of a fowl was turned into a pen, a scrap of linen or a piece of plaster torn from the wall served as writing paper and fresh blood was used for ink. constant attempts were made to communicate with the outside. the old trick of throwing out of the window a stone wrapped in paper covered with writing was frequently tried. if it reached the street and was picked up it generally passed on to its address. patroles were employed, day and night, making the rounds of the exterior to check this practice. the bird fanciers tied letters to the legs of the pigeons which took wing, and the detection of this device led to a general gaol delivery from all bird cages. friends outside were at great pains to pass in news of the day to prisoners. where the prison windows gave upon the street, and when prisoners were permitted to exercise on the platforms of the towers, their friends waited on the boulevards below and used conventional signs by waving a handkerchief or placing a hand in a particular position to convey some valued piece of intelligence. it is said that when laporte, the _valet de chambre_ of anne of austria, was arrested, the queen herself lingered in the street so that her faithful servant might see her and know that he was not forgotten. sometimes the house opposite the castle was rented with a notice board and a message inscribed with gigantic letters was hung in the windows to be read by those inside. the governing staff of the bastile, although ample and generally efficient, could not entirely check these disorders. the supreme chief was the captain-governor. associated with him was a lieutenant of the king, immediately under his orders were a major and aide-major with functions akin to those of an adjutant and his assistant. there was a chief engineer and a director of fortifications, a doctor and a surgeon, a wet-nurse, a chaplain, a confessor and his coadjutor. the châtelet delegated a commissary to the department of the bastile, whose business it was to make judicial inquiries. an architect, two keepers of the archives and three or four turnkeys, practically the body servants and personal attendants of the prisoners, completed the administrative staff. a military company of sixty men under the direct command of the governor and his major formed the garrison and answered for the security of the castle. reliance must have been placed chiefly upon the massive walls of the structure, for this company was composed mainly of old soldiers, infirm invalids, not particularly active or useful in such emergencies as open insubordination or attempted escape. the emoluments of the governor were long fixed at , livres, but the irregular profits far out-valued the fixed salary. the governor was, to all intents and purposes, a hotel or boarding house keeper, who was paid head money for his involuntary guests. the sum of ten livres per diem was allowed for each, a sum far in excess of the charge for diet. this allowance was increased when the lodgers exceeded a certain number. the governor had other perquisites, such as the rent of the sheds erected in the bastile ditch. he was permitted to fill his cellars with wine untaxed, which he generally exchanged with a dealer for inferior fluid to re-issue to the prisoners. in later years when the influx of prisoners diminished, the governors appear to have complained bitterly of the diminution of their income. petitions imploring relief may be read in the actions from governors impoverished by their outgoings in paying for the garrison and turnkey. they could not "make both ends meet." the governor, or captain of the castle, was in supreme charge. the ministers of state transmitted to him the orders of the king direct. he corresponded with them and in exceptional cases with the king himself; but was answerable for the castle and the safe custody of the inmates. his power was absolute and he wielded it with military exactitude. we have seen in the list of earlier custodians, that the most distinguished persons did not feel the position was beneath them; but as time passed, it was thought safer to employ smaller people, the creatures of the court whose loyalty and subservience might be most certainly depended upon. after du tremblay, who surrendered his fortress to the fronde, came broussel the elder, the member of parliament who had defied anne of austria, with his son as his lieutenant. then came la louvière, who was commandant of the place when the "grande mademoiselle" seized it in aid of the great condé. he was removed by the king's order and when peace was declared one de vennes succeeded him and then la bachelerie. but de besmaus, who had been a simple captain in mazarin's guard, was the first of what we may call the "gaoler governors." he was appointed by the king in and held the post for nearly forty years. through all the busy period when louis xiv personally controlled the morals of his kingdom and used the castle to enforce his despotic will a great variety of prisoners came under his charge; political conspirators, religious dissidents, jansenists and protestants, free thinkers and reckless writers with unbridled libellous pens, publishers who dared to print unauthorised books which were tried in court and sentenced to committal to gaol for formal destruction, common criminals, thieves, cutpurses and highway robbers. de besmaus has been described as a "coarse, brutal governor, a dry, disagreeable, hard-hearted ruffian;" but another report applauds the selection, declaring that his unshaken fidelity through thirty-nine years of office was associated with much gentleness and humanity. his honesty is more questioned, for it is stated that although he entered the service poor, he bequeathed considerable sums at his death. monsieur de saint mars, who fills so large a place in the criminal annals of the times, from his connection with certain famous and mysterious prisoners, succeeded de besmaus. he was an old man and had risen from the ranks, having been first a king's musketeer, then corporal, then maréchal de logis, and was then appointed commandant of the donjon of pignerol. when cardinal mazarin died, the probable successor to the vacant office was freely discussed and choice was supposed to lie between le tellier, secretary of state for war, lionne, secretary for foreign affairs, and fouquet, superintendent of finances. louis xiv soon settled the question by announcing his intention of assuming the reins of government himself. when leading personages came to him, asking to whom they should speak in future upon affairs of state, louis replied, "to me. i shall be my own prime minister in future." he said it with a decision that could not be questioned, and it was plain that the young monarch of twenty-two proposed to sacrifice his ease, to subordinate his love of pleasure and amusement to the duties of his high position--resolutions fulfilled in the main. in truth he had been chafing greatly at the vicarious authority exercised by mazarin and was heard to say that he could not think what would have happened had the cardinal lived much longer. people could not believe in louis's determination and predicted that he would soon weary of his burdensome task. fouquet was the most incredulous of all. he thought himself firmly fixed in his place and believed that by humoring the king, by encouraging him in his extravagance and providing funds for his gratification, he would still retain his power. he sought, too, by complicating the business and confusing the accounts of his office, to disgust the king with financial details and blind him to the dishonest statements put before him. fouquet thus prepared his own undoing, for louis, suspecting foul play, was secretly coached by colbert, who came privately by night to the king's cabinet to instruct and pilot him through the dark and intricate pitfalls that fouquet prepared for him. louis patiently bided his time and suffered fouquet to go farther and farther astray, to increase his peculations and lavish enormous sums of the ill-gotten wealth in ostentatious extravagance. louis made up his mind to pull down and destroy his faithless minister. his insidious plans, laid with a patient subtlety, not to say perfidy, were the first revelation of the masterly and unscrupulous character of the young sovereign. he led fouquet on to convict himself and show to all the world, by a costly entertainment on unparalleled lines, how deeply he had dipped his purse into the revenues of the state. the fête he gave to the king and court at his newly constructed palace at vaux was brilliant beyond measure. the mansion far outshone any royal residence in beauty and splendor. three entire villages had been demolished in its construction so that water might be brought to the grounds to fill the reservoirs and serve the fountains and cascades that freshened the lawns and shady alleys and gladdened the eye with smiling landscapes. the fête he now gave was of oriental magnificence. enchantment followed enchantment. tables laden with luscious viands came down from the ceiling. mysterious subterranean music was heard on every side. the most striking feature was an ambulant mountain of confectionery which moved amongst the guests with hidden springs. molière was there and at the king's suggestion wrote a play on the spot, "_les facheux_," which caricatured some of the most amusing guests. the king was a prey to jealous amazement. he saw pictures by the most celebrated painters, grounds laid out by the most talented landscape gardeners, buildings of the most noble dimensions erected by the most famous architects. after the theatre there were fireworks, after the pyrotechnics a ball at which the king danced with mademoiselle de la vallière; after the ball, supper; and after supper, the king bade fouquet good night with the words, "i shall never dare ask you to my house; i could not receive you properly." more than once that night the king, sore at heart and humiliated at the gorgeous show made by a subject and servant of the state, would have arrested fouquet then and there. the queen mother strongly dissuaded him from too hasty action and he saw that it would be necessary to proceed with caution lest he find serious, and possibly successful, resistance. fouquet did not waste all his wealth in ostentation. he had purchased the island of belle ile from the duc de retz and fortified it with the idea, it was thought, to withdraw there if he failed to secure the first place in the kingdom, raise the standard of revolt against the king and seek aid from england. it was time to pull down so powerful a subject. the measures taken for the arrest of fouquet may be recounted here at some length. they well illustrate the young king's powers of dissimulation and the extreme caution that backed his resolute will. he first assumed a friendly attitude and led fouquet to believe that he meant to bestow on him the valued decoration of saint d'esprit. but he had already given it to another member of the paris parliament and a rule had been made that only one of that body should enjoy the honor. fouquet was procureur general of the parliament and voluntarily sold the place so that he might become eligible for the cross, at the same time paying the price into the treasury. louis was by no means softened and still determined to abase fouquet. yet he shrank from making the arrest in paris and invented a pretext for visiting the west coast of france for the purpose of choosing a site for a great naval depot. he was to be accompanied by his council, fouquet among the rest. although the superintendent was suffering from fever, he proceeded to nantes by the river loire, where the king, travelling by the road, soon afterwards arrived. some delay occurred through the illness of d'artagnan, lieutenant of musketeers, who was to be charged with the arrest. the reader will recognise d'artagnan, the famous fourth of the still more famous "three musketeers" of alexandre dumas. the instructions issued to d'artagnan are preserved in the memorandum written by le tellier's clerk and may be summarised as follows:-- "it is the king's intention to arrest the sieur fouquet on his leaving the castle (nantes) when he has passed beyond the last sentinel. forty musketeers will be employed, twenty to remain within the court of the castle, the other twenty to patrol outside. the arrest will be made when sieur fouquet comes down from the king's chamber, and he will be carried, surrounded by the musketeers, to the chamberlain's room, there to await the king's carriage which is to take him further on. monsieur d'artagnan will offer monsieur fouquet a basin of soup if he should care to take it. meanwhile the musketeers will form a cordon round the lodging in which the chamberlain's room is situated. monsieur d'artagnan will not take his eyes off the prisoner for a single moment nor will he permit him to put his hand into his pocket so as to remove any papers, telling him that the king demands the delivery of all documents; and those he gets monsieur d'artagnan will at once pass on to the authority indicated. in entering the royal carriage monsieur fouquet will be accompanied by monsieur d'artagnan with five of his most trustworthy officers and musketeers. the road taken will be: the first day, to oudon, the second day, to ingrandes, and the third, to the castle of angers. extreme care will be observed that monsieur fouquet has no communication by word or writing or in any other possible way with any one on the road. at oudon, monsieur fouquet will be summoned to deliver an order in his own hand to the commandant of belle ile to hand it over to an officer of the king. in order that every precaution may be taken at angers, its governor, the count d'harcourt, will receive orders to surrender the place to monsieur d'artagnan and expel the garrison. this letter will be forwarded express to angers so that all may be ready on the arrival. at the same time a public notice shall be issued to the inhabitants of angers requiring them to give every assistance in food and lodging to the king's musketeers. monsieur fouquet will be lodged in the most suitable rooms which will be furnished with goods purchased in the town. the king will himself nominate the _valet de chambre_ and decide upon the prisoner's rations and the supply of his table. monsieur d'artagnan will receive , louis for all expenses." the arrest was not limited to the superintendent himself. his chief clerk pellisson, who afterwards became famous in literature, was also taken to saint mandé. fouquet's house and his papers were seized; which his brother would have forestalled by burning the house but was too late. a mass of damaging papers fell into the hands of the king. one of these was an elaborate manuscript with the project of a general rising, treasonable in the highest degree. the scheme was too wild and visionary for accomplishment and fouquet himself swore positively that it was a forgery. fouquet did not remain long at angers. he was carried to amboise and afterwards to vincennes, always under the strictest surveillance, being suffered to speak to no one en route but his guards and denied the use of writing materials. he left amboise in december, , for vincennes, under the escort of eighty musketeers, and from time to time passed to and fro between the "wood" and the bastile as his interminable trial dragged along. he was first interrogated at vincennes by an informal tribunal, the commission previously constituted to inquire into the malversation of finances, but he steadily refused to answer except in free and open court. after much persecution by his enemies with the king himself at their head, and the violation of all forms of law, he was taken again to the bastile and arraigned before the so-called chamber of justice at the arsenal, a tribunal made up mainly of unjust and prejudiced judges, some of whom hated the prisoner bitterly. the process was delayed by fouquet's dexterity in raising objections and involving others in the indictment. louis xiv ardently desired the end. "my reputation is at stake," he wrote. "the matter is not serious, really, but in foreign countries it will be thought so if i cannot secure the conviction of a thief." the king's long standing animosity was undying, as the sequel showed. throughout, the public sympathy was with fouquet. he had troops of friends; he had been a liberal patron of art and letters and all the best brains of paris were on his side. madame de sévigné filled several of her matchless letters with news of the case. la fontaine bemoaned his patron's fate in elegant verse. mademoiselle scuderi, the first french novelist, wrote of him eloquently. henault attacked colbert in terms that might well have landed him in the bastile, and pellisson, his former clerk, from the depths of that prison made public his eloquent and impassioned justifications of his old master. at last, when hope was almost dead, the relief was great at hearing that there would be no sentence of death as was greatly feared. by thirteen votes against nine, a sentence of banishment was decreed and the result was made public amid general rejoicing. the sentence was deemed light, although fouquet had already endured three years' imprisonment and he must have suffered much in the protracted trial. louis xiv, still bearing malice, would not allow fouquet to escape so easily and changed banishment abroad into perpetual imprisonment at home. the case is quoted as one of the rare instances in which a despotic sovereign ruler over-rode the judgment of a court by ordering a more severe sentence and personally ensuring its harsh infliction. he was forthwith transferred to pignerol, escorted again by d'artagnan and a hundred musketeers. special instructions for his treatment, contained in letters from the king in person, were handed over to saint mars. by express royal order he was forbidden to communicate in speech or writing with anyone but his gaolers. he might not leave the room he occupied for a single moment or for any reason. he could not use a slate to note down his thoughts, that common boon extended to all modern prisoners. these restrictions were imposed with the most watchful precautions and, as we may well believe, were inspired with the wish to cut him off absolutely from friends outside. he was supposed to have some valuable information to communicate and the king was determined it should not pass through. fouquet's efforts and devices were most persistent and ingenious. he utilised all manner of material; writing on the ribbons that ornamented his clothes and the linen that lined them. when the ribbons were tabooed and removed and the linings were all in black he abstracted pieces of his table cloth and manufactured it into paper. he made pens out of fowl bones and ink from soot. he wrote on the inside of his books and on his pocket handkerchiefs. once he begged to be allowed a telescope and it was discovered that some of his former attendants had arrived in pignerol and were in communication with him by signal. they were forthwith commanded to leave the neighborhood. he was very attentive to his religious duties at one time, and constantly asked for the ministrations of a priest. from this some clandestine work was suspected and the visits of the confessor were strictly limited to four a year. a servant was, however, permitted to wait on him but was presently replaced by two others, who were intended to act as spies on each other; although on joining fouquet these were plainly warned that they would never be allowed to leave pignerol alive. after eight years the severity of his incarceration appreciably relaxed. the incriminated financiers outside were by this time disposed of or dead. he was given leave to write a letter to his wife and receive one in reply, on condition that they were previously read by the authorities. his personal comfort was improved and he was allowed tea, at that time a most expensive luxury. he had many more books to read, the daily gazettes and current news reached him, and when presently the comte de lauzun was brought a prisoner to pignerol, the two were permitted to take exercise together upon the ramparts. by degrees greater favor was shown. fouquet was permitted to play outdoor games and the privilege of unlimited correspondence was conceded, both with relations and friends. fouquet's wife and children were suffered to reside in the town of pignerol and were constant visitors, permitted to remain with him alone, without witnesses. as the prisoner, who was failing in health, grew worse and worse, his wife was permitted to occupy the same room with him and his daughter lodged alongside. when he died in , all his near relations were present. the fact has been questioned; and a tradition exists that fouquet, still no older than sixty-six, was released and lived on in extreme privacy for twenty-three years. the point is of interest as illustrating the veil of secrecy so often thrown over events in that age and so often impenetrable. this seems a fitting opportunity to refer to a prison mystery belonging to this period, and originating in pignerol, which has exercised the whole world for many generations. the fascinating story of the "man with the iron mask," as presented by writers enamored of romantic sensation, has attracted universal attention for nearly two centuries. a fruitful field for investigation and conjecture was opened up by the strange circumstances of the case. voltaire with his keen love of dramatic effect was the first to awaken the widespread interest in an historic enigma for which there was no plausible solution. who was this unknown person held captive for five and twenty unbroken years with his identity so studiously and strictly hidden that it has never yet been authoritatively revealed? the mystery deepened with the details (mostly imaginery) of the exceptional treatment accorded him. year after year he wore a mask, really made of black velvet on a whalebone frame, not a steel machine, with a chin-piece closing with a spring and looking much like an instrument of mediæval torture. he was said to have been treated with extreme deference. his gaoler stood, bareheaded, in his presence. he led a luxurious life; he wore purple and fine linen and costly lace; his diet was rich and plentiful and served on silver plate; he was granted the solace of music; every wish was gratified, save in the one cardinal point of freedom. the plausible theory deduced from all this was that he was a personage of great consequence,--of high, possibly royal birth, who was imprisoned and segregated for important reasons of state. such conditions, quite unsubstantiated by later knowledge, fired the imagination of inquirers, and a clue to the mystery has been sought in some exalted victim whom louis xiv had the strongest reason to keep out of sight. many suggested explanations were offered, all more or less far fetched even to absurdity. the first was put forward by at least two respectable writers, who affirmed that a twin son was born to anne of austria, some hours later than the birth of the dauphin, and that louis xiii, fearing there might be a disputed succession, was resolved to conceal the fact. it was held by certain legal authorities in france that the first born of twins had no positive and exclusive claim to the inheritance. accordingly, the second child was conveyed away secretly and confided first to a nurse and then to the governor of burgundy who kept him close. but the lad, growing to manhood, found out who he was and was forthwith placed in confinement, with a mask to conceal his features which were exactly like those of his brother, the king. yet this view was held by many people of credit in france and it was that to which the great napoleon inclined, for he was keenly interested in the question and when in power had diligent search made in the national archives, quite without result, which greatly chafed his imperious mind. a similar theory of the birth of this second child was found very attractive; the paternity of it was given, not to louis xiii, but to various lovers: the duke of buckingham, cardinal mazarin and a gentleman of the court whose name never transpired. this is the wildest and most extravagant of surmises, for which there is not one vestige of authority. the first suggestion is altogether upset by the formalities and precautions observed at the birth of "a child of france," and it would have been absolutely impossible to perpetrate the fraud. other special and fanciful suppositions have gained credence, but their mere statement is sufficient to upset them. one is the belief that the "man with the iron mask" was the english duke of monmouth, the son of charles ii and lucy waters, who raised the standard of revolt against james ii and suffered death on tower hill. it was pretended that a devoted follower, whose life was also forfeit, took his place upon the scaffold and was hacked about in monmouth's place by the clumsy executioner. the craze for ridiculous conjecture led to the adoption of henry cromwell, the protector's second son, as the cryptic personage, but there was never a shadow of evidence to support this story and no earthly reason why louis xiv should desire to imprison and conceal a young englishman. nor can we understand why louis should thus dispose of his own son by louise de vallière, the young comte de vermandois, whose death in camp at an early age was fully authenticated by the sums allotted to buy masses for the repose of his soul. the disappearance of the duc de beaufort's body after his death on the field of candia led to his promotion to the honor of the black mask, but his head was probably sent to the sultan of turkey, and in any case, although he was, as we have already seen, a noisy, vulgar demagogue, he had made his peace with the court in his later days. there was no mystery about fouquet's imprisonment. the story which has just been told to the time of his death shows conclusively that he could not be the "man with the iron mask," nor was there any sound reason to think it. the same may be said of the rather crazy suggestion that he was avedik, the armenian patriarch at constantinople who, having incurred the deadly animosity of the jesuits, had been kidnapped and brought to france. this conclusion was entirely vitiated by the unalterable logic of dates. the patriarch was carried off from constantinople just a year after the mysterious person died in the bastile. thus, one by one, we exclude and dispose of the uncertain and improbable claimants to the honors of identification. but one person remains whom the cap fits from the first; a man who, we know, offended louis mortally and whose imprisonment the king had the best of reasons, from his own point of view, for desiring: the first, private vengeance, the second, the public good and the implacable will to carry out his set purpose. it is curious that this solution which was close at hand seems never to have appealed to the busy-bodies who approached the subject with such exaggerated ideas about the impenetrable mystery. a prisoner had been brought to pignerol at a date which harmonizes with the first appearance of the unknown upon the stage. great precautions were observed to keep his personality a secret; but it was distinctly known to more than one, and although guarded with official reticence, there were those who could have, and must have drawn their own conclusions. in any case the screen has now been entirely torn aside and documentary evidence is afforded which proves beyond all doubt that no real mystery attaches to the "man with the iron mask." the exact truth of the story will be best established by a brief history of the antecedent facts. when louis xiv was at the zenith of his power, supreme at home and an accepted arbiter abroad, he was bent upon consolidating his power in northern italy, and eagerly opened negotiations with the duke of mantua to acquire the fortress town of casale. the town was a decisive point which secured his predominance in montferrat, which gave an easy access at any time into lombardy. the terms agreed upon were, first, a payment of , crowns by louis to the duke of mantua and, second, a promise that the latter should command any french army sent into italy; in exchange, the surrender of casale. the transaction had been started by the french ambassador in venice and the principal agent was a certain count mattioli, who had been a minister to the duke of mantua and was high in his favor. mattioli visited paris and was well received by the king, who sent him back to italy to complete the contract. now, however, unexplained delays arose and it came out that the great powers, who were strongly opposed to the dominating influence of france in northern italy, had been informed of what was pending. the private treaty with france became public property and there could be no doubt but that mattioli had been bought over. he had in fact sold out the french king and the whole affair fell through. louis xiv, finding himself deceived and betrayed, was furiously angry and resolved to avenge himself upon the traitor. it was pain and anguish to him to find that he had been cheated before all europe, and in his discomfiture and bitter humiliation he prepared to avenge himself amply. on the suggestion of the french minister at turin he planned that mattioli should be kidnapped and carried into france and there subjected to the king's good pleasure. mattioli was a needy man and was easily beguiled by the frenchman's promises of a substantial sum in french gold, from the french general, catinat, who was on the frontier with ample funds for use when casale should have been occupied. mattioli, unsuspecting, met catinat not far from pignerol, where after revealing the place where his papers were concealed he fell into the hands of the french. louis had approved of the arrest and insisted only on secrecy, and that mattioli should be carried off without the least suspicion in casale. "look to it," he wrote, "that no one knows what becomes of this man." and at the same time the governor of pignerol, saint mars, was instructed by louvois, the minister, to receive him in great secrecy and was told, "you will guard him in such a manner that, not only may he have no communication with anyone, but that he may have cause to repent his conduct, and that no one may know you have a new prisoner." the secrecy was necessary because mattioli was the diplomatic agent of another country and his arrest was a barefaced violation of the law of nations. brigadier-general (afterwards the famous marshal) catinat reports from pignerol on may rd, :--"i arrested mattioli yesterday, three miles from here, upon the king's territories, during the interview which the abbe d'estrades had ingeniously contrived between himself, mattioli and me, to facilitate the scheme. for the arrest, i employed only the chevaliers de saint martin and de villebois, two officers under m. de saint mars, and four men of his company. it was effected without the least violence, and no one knows the rogue's name, not even the officers who assisted." this fixed beyond all doubt the identity, but there is a corroborative evidence in a pamphlet still in existence, dated , which states that "the secretary was surrounded by ten or twelve horsemen who seized him, disguised him, masked him and conducted him to pignerol." this is farther borne out by a traditionary arrest about that time. when, thirty years later, the great sensation was first invented, its importance was emphasised by voltaire and others who declared that at the period of the arrest no disappearance of any important person was recorded. certainly mattioli's disappearance was not much noticed. it was given out that he was dead, the last news of him being a letter to his father in padua begging him to hand over his papers to a french agent. they were concealed in a hole in the wall in one of the rooms in his father's house, and when obtained without demur were forwarded to the king in paris. there was no longer any doubt of mattioli's guilt, and louis exacted the fullest penalty. he would annihilate him, sweep him out of existence, condemn him to a living death as effective as though he were poisoned, strangled or otherwise removed. he did not mean that the man who had flouted and deceived him should be in a position to glory over the affront he had put upon the proudest king in christendom. exit mattioli. enter the "man with the iron mask." pignerol, the prison to which he was consigned, has already been described, and also saint mars, his gaoler. the mask was not regularly used at first, but the name of mattioli was changed on reception to lestang. we come at once upon evidence that this was no distinguished and favored prisoner. the deference shown him, the silver plate, the fine clothes are fictions destroyed by a letter written by louvois within a fortnight of the arrest. "it is not the king's intention," he writes, "that the sieur de lestang should be well treated, or that, except the necessaries of life, you should give him anything to soften his captivity.... you must keep lestang in the rigorous confinement i enjoined in my previous letters." saint mars punctiliously obeyed his orders. he was a man of inflexible character, with no bowels of compassion for his charges, and lestang must have felt the severity of the prison rule. eight months later the governor reported that lestang, likewise a fellow prisoner, a monk, who shared his chamber, had gone out of his mind. both were subject to fits of raving madness. this is the only authentic record of the course of the imprisonment, which lasted fifteen years in this same prison of pignerol. saint mars, in , exchanged his governorship for that of exiles, another frontier fortress, and was supposed to have carried his masked prisoner with him. this erroneous belief has been disproved by a letter of saint mars to the abbe d'estrades, discovered in the archives, in which the writer states that he has left mattioli at pignerol. there is no attempt at disguise. the name used is mattioli, not lestang, and it is clear from collateral evidence that this is the masked man. saint mars was not pleased with exiles and solicited another transfer which came in his appointment to the command of the castle on the island of sainte-marguerite, opposite cannes and well known to visitors to the french riviera. the fortress, by the way, has much later interest as marshal bazaine's place of confinement after his trial by court martial for surrendering metz. it will be remembered, too, that with the connivance of friends bazaine made his escape from durance, although it may be doubted whether the french republic was particularly anxious to keep him. the time at length arrived for mattioli's removal from pignerol. a change had come over the fortunes of france. louis was no longer the dictator of europe. defeated in the field and thwarted in policy, the proud king had to eat humble pie; he was forced to give up casale, which had come to him after all in spite of mattioli's betrayal. pignerol also went back once more to italian rule and it must be cleared of french prisoners. one alone remained of any importance, for fouquet was long since dead and lauzun released. this was mattioli, whose illegal seizure and detention it was now more than ever necessary to keep secret. extreme precautions were taken when making the transfer. a strong detachment of soldiers, headed by guides, escorted the prisoner who was in a litter. the governor of pignerol (now one villebois) by his side was the only person permitted to communicate with him. the locks and bolts of his quarters at pignerol were sent ahead to be used at sainte-marguerite and the strictest discipline was maintained on the journey. mattioli saw no one. his solitude was unbroken save by saint mars and the two lieutenants who brought him his food and removed the dishes. one other change awaited the prisoner, the last before his final release. high preferment came to saint mars, who was offered and accepted the governorship of the bastile. he was to bring his "ancient prisoner" with him to paris; to make the long journey across france weighted with the terrible responsibility of conveying such a man safely in open arrest. we get a passing glimpse of the cortège in a letter published by the grandnephew of saint mars, m. polteau, who describes the halt made for a night at polteau, a country house belonging to saint mars. "the man in the mask," he writes, in , "came in a litter which preceded that of m. de saint mars. they were accompanied by several men on horseback. the peasants waited to greet their lord. m. de saint mars took his meals with his prisoner, who was placed with his back to the windows of the dining room which overlooked the courtyard. the peasants whom i questioned could not see whether he wore his mask while eating, but they took notice of the fact that m. de saint mars who sat opposite to him kept a pair of pistols beside his plate. they were waited on by one manservant who fetched the dishes from the anteroom where they were brought to him, taking care to close the door of the dining room after him. when the prisoner crossed the courtyard, he always wore the black mask. the peasants noticed that his teeth and lips showed through, also that he was tall and had white hair. m. de saint mars slept in a bed close to that of the masked man." the prisoner arrived at the bastile on the th of september, , and the authentic record of his reception appears in the journal of the king's lieutenant of the castle, m. du junca, still preserved in the arsenal library. "m. de saint mars, governor of the chateau of the bastile, presented, for the first time, coming from his government of the isle of sainte-marguerite, bringing with him a prisoner who was formerly in his keeping at pignerol." the entry goes on to say that the newcomer was taken to the third chamber of the bertandière tower and lodged there alone in the charge of a gaoler who had come with him. he was nameless in the bastile and was known only as "the prisoner from provence" or "the ancient prisoner." his isolation and seclusion were strictly maintained for the first three years of his imprisonment in the bastile and then came a curious change. he is no longer kept apart. he is associated with other prisoners, and not of the best class. one, a rascally domestic servant, who practised black magic, and a disreputable rake who had once been an army officer. nothing is said about the mask, but there can no longer be much secrecy and the mystery might be divulged at any time. it is evident that the reasons for concealment have passed away. the old political intrigue has lost its importance. no one cared to know about casale. louis xiv had slaked his vindictiveness and the sun of his splendor was on the decline. nevertheless it was not till after his death that the prisoner's real name transpired. he died as he had lived, unknown. du junca enters the event in the register:-- "the prisoner unknown, masked always ... happening to be unwell yesterday on coming from mass died this day about o'clock in the evening without having had any serious illness; indeed it could not have been slighter ... and this unknown prisoner confined so long a time was buried on tuesday at four in the afternoon in the cemetery of st. paul, our parish. on the register of burial he was given a name also unknown." to this is added in the margin, "i have since learnt that he was named on the register m. de marchiali." a further entry can be seen in the parish register. "on the th of november, , marchioly, of the age of forty-five or thereabouts, died in the bastile ... and was buried in the presence of the major and the surgeon of the bastile." "marchioly" is curiously like "mattioli" and it is a fair assumption that the true identity of the "man with the iron mask" bursts forth on passing the verge of the silent land. lauzun, a third inmate of pignerol about this period, calls for mention here as a prominent courtier whose misguided ambition and boundless impudence tempted him seriously to affront and offend the king. the penalties that overtook him were just what a bold, intemperate subject might expect from an autocratic, unforgiving master. this prisoner, the count de lauzun, was rightly styled by a contemporary "the most insolent little man that had been seen for a century." he had no considerable claims to great talents, agreeable manners or personal beauty, but he was quick to establish himself in the good graces of louis xiv. he was one of the first to offer him the grateful incense of unlimited adulation. he worshipped the sovereign as a superior being, erected him into a god, lavished the most fulsome flattery on him, declaring that louis by his wisdom, wit, greatness and majesty took rank as a divinity. yet he sometimes forgot himself and went to the other extreme, daring to attack and upbraid the king if he disapproved of his conduct. once he sided with madame de montespan when she was first favorite and remonstrated with louis so rudely that the king cast him at once into the bastile. but such blunt honesty won the king's respect and speedy forgiveness. lauzun was soon released and advanced from post to post, each of successively greater value, so that the hypocritical courtier, who had made the most abject submission, seemed assured of high fortune. as he rose, his ambition grew and he aspired now to the hand of the king's cousin, mademoiselle de montpensier, who began to look upon him with favor. this was the same "grande mademoiselle," the heroine of the wars of the fronde, who was now a wealthy heiress and who at one time came near being the king's wife and queen. the match was so unequal as to appear wildly impossible, but de lauzun was strongly backed by madame de montespan and two nobles of high rank were induced to make a formal proposal to the king. louis liked de lauzun and gave his consent without hesitation. the marriage might have been completed at once but the bold suitor, successful beyond his deserts and puffed up with conceit, put off the happy day so as to give more and more éclat to the wedding ceremony. while he procrastinated his enemies were unceasingly active. the princes of the blood and jealous fellow courtiers constantly implored the king to avoid so great a mistake, and louis, having been weak enough to give his consent, was now so base as to withdraw it. de lauzun retorted by persuading mademoiselle de montpensier to marry him privately. this reckless act, after all, might have been forgiven, but he was full of bitterness against those who had injured him with the king and desired to retaliate. he more especially hated madame de montespan, whom he now plotted to ruin by very unworthy means. he thus filled his cup and procured the full measure of the king's indignation. he was arrested and consigned to pignerol, where in company with fouquet he languished for ten years. chapter vii the power of the bastile louis xiv and the _lettre de cachet_--society corrupt--assassination common--cheating at cards--shocking state of paris--"the court of miracles"--prisons filled--prisoners detained indefinitely--revived persecution of the protestants--general exodus of industrious artisans--inside the bastile--sufferings of the prisoners--the comte pagan--imprisonment for blasphemy, riotous conduct in the streets and all loose living--kidnapping of the armenian patriarch, avedik--his sudden death--many heinous crimes disgrace the epoch--plot of the chevalier de rohan--its detection--de rohan executed. the three notable cases of arrest and imprisonment given in the last chapter are typical of the régime at last established in france under the personal rule of a young monarch whom various causes had combined to render absolute. the willing submission of a people sick of civil war, the removal or complete subjection of the turbulent vassals, his own imperious character,--that of a strong willed man with a set resolve to be sovereign, irresponsible master,--all combined to consolidate his powers. louis was the incarnation of selfishness. to have his own way with everyone and in everything, to gratify every whim and passion was the keynote of his sensuous and indulgent nature. no one dared oppose him; no one stood near him. his subjects were his creatures; the greatest nobles accepted the most menial tasks about his person. his abject and supple-backed courtiers offered him incense and dosed him with the most fulsome flattery. he held france in the hollow of his hand and french society was formed on his model, utterly corrupt and profligate under a thin veneer of fine manners which influenced all europe and set its fashions. the worst example set by louis was in his interference with personal liberty. the privilege of freedom from arrest had been won by the parliament, in the fronde. they had decreed that any one taken into custody one day must be produced for trial the next and his detention justified. this safeguard was shortlived. the law was defied and ignored by louis xiv who invented the _lettres de cachet_, or sealed warrants, which decreed arbitrary arrest without reason given or the smallest excuse made for the committal. it came to be a common thing that persons who were not even suspected of crimes, and who had certainly never been guilty of crimes, were caught up and imprisoned indefinitely. they might lie for years in the bastile or vincennes, utterly uncared for and forgotten, kept in custody not because anybody was set upon their remaining but because nobody was interested in their release. in the absence of any statement of the offense no one could say whether or not it was purged and no one was concerned as to whether the necessity for punishment still survived. these _lettres de cachet_ were abundantly in evidence, for they were signed in blank by the king himself and countersigned by one of his ministers whenever it was desired to make use of one. it may be well to explain here that it was customary for the king of france to make his sovereign will known by addressing a communication to the various state functionaries in the form of a letter which was open or closed. if the former, it was a "patent," it bore the king's signature, it was countersigned by a minister and the great seal of state was appended. this was the form in which all ordinances or grants of privileges appeared. these "letters patent" were registered and endorsed by the parliament. but there was no check upon the closed letter or _lettre de cachet_, famous in the history of tyranny, as the secret method of making known the king's pleasure. this was folded and sealed with the king's small seal, and although it was a private communication it had all the weight of the royal authority. it became the warrant for the arbitrary arrest, at any time and without any reason given, of any person who, upon the strength of it, was forthwith committed to a state prison. the chief ministers and the head of the police had always _lettres de cachet_ in stock, signed in blank, but all in due form, and they could be completed at any time, by order, or of their own free will, by inserting the name of the unfortunate individual whose liberty was to be forfeited. arrest on a _lettre de cachet_, as has been said, sometimes meant prolonged imprisonment purposely or only because the identity of the individual or the cause of the arrest was forgotten. society was horribly vicious and corrupt in the time of louis xiv. evil practices prevailed throughout the nation. profligacy was general among the better classes and the lower ranks committed the most atrocious crimes. while the courtiers openly followed the example set by their self-indulgent young monarch, an ardent devotee of pleasure, the country was over-run with thieves and desperadoes. assassination was common, by the open attack of hired bravos or secretly by the infamous administration of poison. security was undermined and numbers in every condition of life were put out of the way. the epoch of the poisoners presently to be described is one of the darkest pages in the annals of the bastile. cheating at cards and in every form of gambling was shamelessly prevalent, and defended on the specious excuse that it was merely correcting fortune. prominent persons of rank and fashion such as the chevalier de gramont and the marquis de saissac won enormous sums unfairly. the passion for play was so general and so engrossing that no opportunity of yielding to it was lost; people gambled wherever they met, in public places, in private houses, in carriages when travelling on the road. cheating at play was so common that a special officer, the grand provost, was attached to the court to bring delinquents immediately to trial. many dishonest practices were called in to assist, false cards were manufactured on purpose and cardmakers were a part of the great households. strict laws imposed heavy penalties upon those caught loading dice or marking packs. fraud was conspicuously frequent in the italian and most popular game of _hoca_ played with thirty balls on a board, each ball containing a number on a paper inside. [illustration: _the bastile_ the first stone of this historic fortress was laid in . for the first two centuries it was a military stronghold, and whoever held the bastile overawed paris. the terrors of the bastile as a state prison were greatest during the ministry of richelieu. from the beginning of the revolution this prison was a special object of attack by the populace. on july , , it was stormed by the people and forced to surrender.] later in the reign, the rage for play grew into a perfect madness. _hoca_, just mentioned, although it had been indicted by two popes in rome, and although, in paris, the parliament, the magistrates and the six guilds of merchants had petitioned for its suppression, held the lead. other games of chance little less popular were _lansquenet_, _hazard_, _portique_ and _trou-madame_. colossal sums were lost and won. a hundred thousand crowns changed hands at a sitting. madame de montespan, the notorious favorite, lost, one christmas day, , crowns and got back , by a stake upon only three cards. it was possible at _hoca_ to lose or win fifty or sixty times a stake in one quarter of an hour. during a campaign, officers played incessantly and leading generals of the army were among the favorite players with the king, when invited to the palace. the police fulminated vainly against the vice, and would have prohibited play among the people, but did not dare to suggest that the court should set the example. extravagance and ostentation being the aim and fashion of all, every means was tried to fill the purse. the crown was assailed on all sides by the needy, seeking places at court. fathers sent their sons to paris from the provinces to ingratiate themselves with great people and to pay court in particular to rich widows and dissolute old dowagers eager to marry again. heiresses were frequently waylaid and carried off by force. abduction was then as much the rule as are _mariages de convenance_ in paris nowadays. friends and relations aided and abetted the abductor, if the lady's servants made resistance. the state of paris was shocking. disturbances in the street were chronic, murders were frequent and robbery was usually accompanied with violence, especially in the long winter nights. the chief offenders were soldiers of the garrison and the pages and lackeys of the great houses, who still carried arms. a police ordinance finally forbade them to wear swords and it was enforced by exemplary punishment. a duke's footman and a duchess's page, who attacked and wounded a student on the pont neuf, were arrested, tried and forthwith hanged despite the protests and petitions of their employers. further ordinances regulated the demeanor of servants who could not be employed without producing their papers, and now in addition to their swords being taken away, they were deprived of their canes and sticks on account of their brutal treatment of inoffensive people. they were forbidden to gather in crowds and they might not enter the gardens of the tuileries or luxembourg. it was not enough to repress the insolent valets and check the midnight excesses of the worst characters. the importunity of the sturdy vagabond, who lived by begging, called for stern repression. these ruffians had long been tolerated. they enjoyed certain privileges and immunities, they were organised in dangerous bands strong enough to make terms with the police and they possessed a sanctuary in the heart of paris, where they defied authority. this "court of miracles," as it was called, had three times withstood a siege by commissaries and detachments of troops, who were repulsed with showers of stones. then the head of the police went at the head of a strong force and cleared the place out, allowing all to escape; and when it had been thus emptied, their last receptacle was swept entirely away. other similar refuges were suppressed,--the enclosures of the temple and the abbey of st. germain-des-près, and the hotel soissons, property of the royal family of savoy, which had long claimed the right to give shelter to malefactors. the prisons of paris were in a deplorable and disgraceful state at this period, as appears from a picture drawn by a magistrate about the middle of the seventeenth century. they were without light or air, horribly overcrowded by the dregs of humanity and a prey to foul diseases which prisoners freely communicated to one another. for-l'Évêque was worse then than it had ever been; the whole building was in ruins and must soon fall to the ground. the greater and lesser châtelets were equally unhealthy and of dimensions too limited for their population, the walls too high, the dungeons too deep down in the bowels of the earth. the only prison not absolutely lethal was the conciergerie, yet some of its cells and chambers possessed no sort of drainage. the hopelessness of the future was the greatest infliction; once committed, no one could count on release: to be thrown into prison was to be abandoned and forgotten. the records kept at the bastile were in irremediable disorder. even the names of the inmates were in most cases unknown, from the custom of giving new arrivals a false name. by the king's order, his minister once applied to m. de besmaus, the governor, for information as to the cause of detention of two prisoners, a priest called gerard, who had been confined for eight years, and a certain pierre rolland, detained for three years. the inquiry elicited a report that no such person as rolland appeared upon the monthly pay lists for rations. gerard, the priest, was recognised by his numerous petitions for release. the minister called for a full nominal list of all prisoners and the reasons for their confinement, but the particulars were not forthcoming. this was on the conclusion of the peace of ryswick, when the king desired to mark the general rejoicings by a great gaol delivery. many causes contributed to fill the bastile and other state prisons in the reign of louis xiv. let us take these more in detail. the frauds committed by dishonest agents dealing with public money, the small fry, as guilty as fouquet, but on a lesser scale, consigned many to prison. severe penalties were imposed upon defamatory writers and the whole of the literary crew concerned in the publication of libellous attacks upon the king,--printers, binders, distributors of this dangerous literature,--found their way to the bastile, to the galleys, even to the scaffold. presently when louis, always a bigoted catholic, became more and more intolerant under the influence of the priests, the revived persecution of the protestants filled the gaols and galleys with the sufferers for their faith. colbert had long protected them, but at the death of this talented minister who, as he wrote madame de maintenon, "thought more of finance than religion," le tellier and louvois, who succeeded him, raged furiously against the protestants and many cruel edicts were published. a fierce fanatical desire to proselytise, to procure an abjuration of creed by every violent and oppressive means possessed all classes, high and low. the doors of sick people were forced to admit the priests who came to administer the sacraments, without being summoned. on one occasion the pot-boy of a wine shop who, with his master, professed the new faith, was mortally wounded in a street fight. a priest visited him as he lay dying and besought him to make confession. a low crowd forthwith collected before the house, to the number of seven or eight hundred, and rose in stormy riot, attacked the door with sticks and stones, broke it down, smashed all the windows and forced their way in, crying, "give us up the huguenots or we will set fire to the house." the police then came upon the scene and restored quiet, but the man died, to the last refusing to confess. outrages of this kind were frequent. again, the son of a new convert removed his hat when the procession of the host passed by, but remained standing instead of falling on his knees. he was violently attacked and fled to his home, pursued by the angry crowd who would have burned the house to the ground. the public feeling was so strong that many called for the quartering of troops in paris to assist in the good work of conversion, a suggestion which bore fruit presently in the infamous _dragonnades_, when the soldiers pillaged and laid waste the provinces. the passion for proselytising was carried to the extent of bribing the poverty stricken to change their religion. great pressure was brought to bear upon huguenot prisoners who were in the bastile. a number of priests came in to use their persuasive eloquence upon the recusants, and many reports are preserved in the correspondence of m. de besmaus, the governor, of their energetic efforts. "i am doing my best," says one priest, "and have great hopes of success." "i think," writes another, "i have touched mademoiselle de lamon and the mademoiselles de la fontaine. if i may have access to them i shall be able to satisfy you." the governor was the most zealous of all in seeking to secure the abjuration of the new religion. it may be noted here that this constant persecution, emphasised by the revocation of the edict of nantes (which had conceded full liberty of conscience), had the most disastrous consequences upon french industry. the richest manufacturers and the most skillful and industrious artisans were to be found among the french protestants and there was soon a steady drain outwards of these sources of commercial prosperity. in this continuous exodus of capital and intelligent labor began the material decadence of france and transferred the enterprise of these people elsewhere, notably to england. a contemporary pamphlet paints the situation in sombre colors;--"nothing is to be seen but deserted farms, impecunious landed proprietors, bankrupt traders, creditors in despair, peasants dying of starvation, their dwellings in ruins." on every side and in every commodity there was a terrible depreciation of values,--land nearly worthless, revenues diminished, and besides a new and protracted war had now to be faced. some idea of the condition of the interior of the bastile in those days may be best realised by a few extracts from the original archives preserved from the sack of the hated castle when paris rose in revolution. some documents are extant, written by a certain comte de pagan, who was thrown into the state prison charged with sorcery. he had boasted that he could, when he chose, destroy louis xiv by magic. his arrest was immediate and his detention indefinitely prolonged. his letters contain the most piteous appeals for money. "monseigneur and most reverent patron," he writes to colbert from the bastile under date of the th of november, , "i supplicate you most humbly to accord this poor, unfortunate being his liberty. your lordship will most undoubtedly be rewarded for so merciful a deed as the release of a wretched creature who has languished here for nine years devoid of hope." in a second petition, reiterating his prayer for clemency, he adds, "it is now impossible for me to leave the room in which i am lodged as i am almost naked. do send me a little money so that i may procure a coat and a few shirts." again, "may i beseech you to remember that i have been incarcerated for eleven years and eight months and have endured the worst hardships ever inflicted on a man for the want of covering against the bitter cold.... monseigneur, i am seventy-eight years of age, a prey to all manner of bodily infirmities; i do not possess a single friend in the world, and worse still, i am not worth one sou and am sunk in an abyss of wretchedness. i swear to you, monseigneur, that i am compelled to go to bed in the dark because i cannot buy a farthing candle; i have worn the same shirt without removing or changing it for seven whole months." this appeal is endorsed with a brief minute signed by colbert. "let him have clothes." the year following a new petition is rendered. "your excellency will forgive me if i entreat him to remember that thirteen months ago he granted me francs to relieve my miseries. but i am once more in the same or even worse condition and i again beg humbly for help. i have been quite unable to pay the hire of the furniture in my chamber and the upholsterer threatens to remove the goods and i shall soon be compelled to lie on the bare floor. i have neither light nor fuel and am almost without clothes. you, monseigneur, are my only refuge and i beseech your charitable help or i shall be found dead of cold in my cell. for the love of god, entreat the king to give me my liberty after the thirteen years spent here." this last appeal is dated november th, , but there is no record of his ultimate disposal. it is stated in an earlier document that cardinal mazarin had been willing to grant a pardon to this prisoner if he would agree to be conveyed to the frontier under escort and sent across it as a common criminal, but the count had refused to accept this dishonoring condition which he pleaded would cast a stigma upon his family name. he offered, however, to leave france directly he was released and seek any domicile suggested to him where he might be safe from further oppression. cardinal mazarin seems to have been mercifully inclined, but died before he could extend clemency to this unhappy victim of arbitrary power. the bastile was used sometimes as a sanctuary to withdraw an offender who had outraged the law and could not otherwise be saved from reprisal. a notable case was that of rené de l'hopital, marquis de choisy, who lived on his estates like a savage tyrant. in he was denounced by a curé to the ecclesiastical authorities for his crimes. the marquis with a couple of attendants waylaid the priest on the high road and attacked the curé whom he grievously wounded. the priest commended himself to god and was presently stunned by a murderous blow on the jaw from the butt end of a musket. then the marquis, to make sure his victim was really dead, rode his horse over the recumbent body and then stabbed it several times with his sword. but help came and the curé was rescued still alive, and strange to say, recovered, although it was said he had received a hundred and twenty wounds. the entire religious hierarchy in france espoused the priest's cause. the marquis was haled before several provincial courts of justice. he would undoubtedly have been convicted of murder and sentenced to death, for louis xiv would seldom spare the murderer of a priest, but the l'hopital family had great influence at court and won a pardon for the criminal. the parliament of paris or high court of justice boldly resisted the royal decree and the marquis would still have been executed had he not been consigned for safety to the "king's castle," the bastile. he passed subsequently to the prison of for-l'Évêque, from which he was released with others on the entry of the king to paris, at his marriage. still the vindictive parliament pursued him and he would hardly have escaped the scaffold had he not fled the country. in an age when so much respect was exacted for religious forms and ceremonies, imprisonment in the bastile was promptly inflicted upon all guilty of blasphemous conduct or who openly ridiculed sacred things. the records are full of cases in which prisoners have been committed to gaol for impiety, profane swearing at their ill luck with the dice or at _hoca_. a number of the prince de condé's officers were sent to the bastile for acting a disgraceful parody of the procession of the host, in which a besom was made to represent a cross, a bucket was filled at a neighboring pump and called holy water, and the sham priests chanted the _de profundis_ as they went through the streets to administer the last sacrament to a pretended moribund. a very small offense gained the pain of imprisonment. one foolish person was committed because he was dissatisfied with his name cardon (thistle), and changed it to _cardone_, prefixing the particle "de" which signifies nobility, claiming that he was a member of the illustrious family of de cardone. it appears from the record, however, that he also spoke evil of m. de maurepas, a minister of state. still another class found themselves committed to the bastile. the parental louis, as he grew more sober and staid, insisted more and more on external decorum and dealt sharply with immoral conduct among his courtiers. the bastile was used very much as a police station or a reformatory. young noblemen were sent there for riotous conduct in the streets, for an affray with the watch and the maltreatment of peaceful citizens. the duc d'estrées and the duc de mortemart were imprisoned as wastrels who bet and gambled with sharpers. "the police officers cannot help complaining that the education of these young dukes had been sadly neglected," reads the report. so the royal castle was turned for the nonce into a school, and a master of mathematics, a drawing master and a jesuit professor of history were admitted to instruct the neglected youths. the same duc d'estrées paid a second visit for quarrelling with the comte d'harcourt and protesting against the interference of the marshals to prevent a duel. the king nowadays set his face against all loose living. the comte de montgomery, for leading a debauched and scandalous life on his estates, was committed to the bastile, where he presently died. he was a protestant and the question of his burial came up before the ministry, who wrote the governor that, "his majesty is very indifferent whether he (montgomery) be buried in one place rather than another and still more in what manner the ceremony is performed." the report that the prince de léon, being a prince of the blood, a son of the duc de rohan, was about to marry a ballet dancer, mademoiselle florence, entailed committal to the bastile, not on the prince but on the girl. "florence was arrested this morning while the prince was at versailles," writes the chief of the police. "her papers were seized.... she told the officer who arrested her she was not married, that she long foresaw what would happen, that she would be only too happy to retire into a convent and that she had a hundred times implored the prince to give his consent. i have informed the prince's father, the duc de rohan, of this." the prince was furious upon hearing of the arrest and refused to forgive his relations. the duc de rohan was willing to supply mademoiselle florence with all necessaries to make captivity more tolerable, but great difficulty was found in getting him to pay the bill. the duc de rohan was so great a miser that he allowed his wife and children to die of hunger. the bastile bill included charges for doctor and nurse as mademoiselle de florence was brought to bed of a child in prison. what with the expenses of capture and gaol fees it amounted to , francs. the end of this incident was that the prince de léon, while his lady love was in the bastile, eloped with a supposed heiress, mademoiselle de roquelaure, who was ugly, hunch-backed and no longer young. the prince ran off with her from a convent, moved to do so by his father's promise of an allowance, which the miserly duke never paid. the bride was recaptured and sent back to the cloister in which her mother had placed her to avoid the necessity of giving her any dowry. the married couple, when at last they came together, had a bad time of it, as neither of the parents would help them with funds and they lived in great poverty. a strange episode, forcibly illustrating the arbitrary character of louis xiv and his fine contempt for international rights, was the case of the armenian patriarch, avedik, who was an inmate of the bastile and also of mont st. michel. the armenian catholics, and especially the jesuits, had reason to complain of avedik's high handed treatment, and the french ambassador interfered by paying a large price for the patriarch's removal from his sacred office. certain schismatics of the french party secured his reinstatement by raising the bid; and now the french ambassador seized the person of avedik, who was put on board a french ship and conveyed to messina, then spanish territory, where he was cast into the prison of the inquisition. this abduction evoked loud protest in constantinople, but the french disavowed it, although it had certainly met with the approval of louis xiv. avedik would have languished and died forgotten in messina, but without waiting instructions, the french consul had extracted him from the prison of the inquisition and passed him on to marseilles. great precautions were taken to keep his arrival secret. if the poor, kidnapped foreigner, who spoke no language but turkish and armenian, should chance to be recognised, the report of his sudden death was to be announced and no doubt it would soon be justified in fact. otherwise he was to be taken quietly across france from marseilles, on the mediterranean, to mont st. michel on the normandy coast, where his kidnappers were willing to treat him well. the king expressly ordered that he should have "a room with a fire place, linen and so forth, as his majesty had no desire that the prisoner should suffer, provided economy is observed.... he is not to be subjected to perpetual abstinence and may have meat when he asks for it." of course an attempt was made to convert the patriarch, already a member of the greek church, to catholicism as preached in france, although the interchange of ideas was not easy, and the monk sent to confess him could not do so for want of a common language. eventually avedik was brought to paris and lodged in the bastile, where an interpreter was found for him in the person of the abbé renaudot, a learned oriental scholar. meanwhile a hue and cry was raised for the missing patriarch. one of his servants was traced to marseilles and was promptly arrested and hidden away in the hospital of the galley slaves. louis and his ministers stoutly denied that avedik was in france, and he was very strictly guarded lest the fact of his kidnapping should leak out. no one saw him but the person who took him his food, and they understood each other only by signs. avedik was worked up to make a written statement that he owed his arrest to english intrigues, and this was to be held as an explanation should the porte become too pressing in its inquiries. it is clear that the french government would gladly have seen the last of avedik and hesitated what course to adopt with him: whether to keep him by force, win him over, transfer him to the hands of the pope, send him to persia or let him go straight home. these questions were in a measure answered by a marginal note endorsed on the paper submitting them. "would it be a blessing or would it be a misfortune if he were to die?" asks the minister pontchartrain; and the rather suspicious answer was presently given by his death. but an official report was drawn up, declaring that he had long enjoyed full liberty, that he received every attention during his illness, that his death was perfectly natural and that he died a zealous catholic. pontchartrain went further and, after reiterating that death was neither violent nor premature, added that it was entirely due to the immoderate use of brandy and baleful drugs. avedik had grown very corpulent during his imprisonment, but there was no proof of the charge of intemperance. the most heinous crimes disgraced the epoch of louis xiv, and in all, the bastile played a prominent part. there was first the gigantic frauds and peculations of fouquet as already described; then came the conspiracy of the chevalier de rohan, who was willing to sell french fortresses to foreign enemies; and on this followed the horrible affair of the marchioness de brinvilliers, the secret poisoner of her own people. the use of poison was for a time a wholesale practice, and although the special court established for the trial of those suspected held its sessions in private, the widespread diffusion of the crime was presently revealed beyond all question. there were reasons of state why silence should be preserved; the high rank of many of the criminals and their enormous number threatened, if too openly divulged, to shake society to its base. some two hundred and thirty of the accused were afterwards convicted and sent to prison and thirty-four more were condemned to death. conspiracies against the life of the king had been frequent. we may mention among them that of the marquis de bonnesson, of the protestant roux de marcilly, who would have killed louis to avenge the wrongs of his co-religionists, and another protestant, comte de sardan, who sought to stir up disaffection in four great provinces,--which were to renounce allegiance to france and pass under the dominion of the prince of orange and the king of spain. the most dangerous and extensive plot was that of louis de rohan, a dissolute young nobleman, who had been a playmate of the king and the favorite of ladies of the highest rank, but who had been ruined by gambling and a loose life until his fortunes had sunk to the lowest ebb. he found an evil counsellor in a certain retired military officer, the sieur de latréaumont, no less a pauper than de rohan, and hungry for money to retrieve his position. together they made overtures to the dutch and spaniards to open the way for a descent upon the normandy coast. their price was a million livres. several disaffected normandy nobles joined the plot, and as it was unsafe to trust to the post, an emissary, van den ende, an ancient dutch professor, was sent in person to the low countries to deal with the spanish general. he obtained liberal promises of cash and pension, and returned to paris, where he was promptly arrested at the barrier. the police had discovered the conspiracy and de rohan was already in custody. de latréaumont was surprised in bed, had resisted capture, had been mortally wounded and had died, leaving highly compromising papers. louis xiv, bitterly incensed against the chevalier, whom he had so intimately known, determined to make an example of him and his confederates. a special tribunal was appointed for their trial, some sixty persons in all. abundant evidence was forthcoming, for half normandy was eager to confess and escape the traitor's fate. some very great names were mentioned as implicated, the son of the prince de condé among the rest. the king now wisely resolved to limit the proceedings, lest too much importance should be given to a rather contemptible plot. de rohan's guilt was fully proved. he was reported to have said: "if i can only draw my sword against the king in a serious rebellion i shall die happy." when he saw there was no hope for him, the chevalier tried to soften the king by full confession. it did not serve him, and he was sentenced to be beheaded and his creature, van den ende, to be hanged in front of the bastile. de rohan was spared torture before execution, but van den ende and another suffered the "boot." the king was vainly solicited to grant pardon to de rohan, but was inflexible, declaring it was in the best interests of france that traffic with a foreign enemy should be punished with the extreme rigor of the law. it cannot be stated positively that there were no other conspiracies against louis xiv, but none were made public. chapter viii the terror of poison the marquise de brinvilliers--homicidal mania--mysterious death of her father, m. d'aubray--death of her eldest brother and her second brother--sainte croix's sudden death--fatal secret betrayed--marchioness flies to england--brought to paris--her trial--torture and cruel sentence--others suspected--pennautier--trade in poisoning--the _chambre ardente_--la voisin--great people implicated--wholesale sentences--the galleys, or forced labor at the oar a common punishment--war galleys--manned with difficulty--illegal detention--horrors of the galleys. paris was convulsed and shaken to its roots in , when the abominable crimes of the marchioness of brinvilliers were laid bare. they have continued to horrify the whole world. here was a beautiful woman of good family, of quiet demeanor, seemingly soft-hearted and sweet tempered, who nevertheless murdered her nearest relations,--father, brother, sisters, her husband and her own children by secret and detestable practices. it could have been nothing less than homicidal mania in its worst development. the rage to kill, or, more exactly, to test the value of the lethal weapons she recklessly wielded, seized her under the guise of a high, religious duty to visit the hospitals to try the effects of her poisons on the sick poor. there were those at the time who saw in the discovery of her murderous processes the direct interposition of providence. first, there was the sudden death of her principal accomplice, and the sure indications found among the papers he left; next, the confirmatory proofs afforded by a servant who had borne the "question" without opening his lips, and only confessed at the scaffold; last of all, the guilty woman's arrest in liége on the last day that the french king's authority was paramount in that city; and more, there was the fact that when taken, she was in possession of papers indispensable to secure her own conviction. marie-madeleine d'aubray was beautiful, the daughter of the d'aubray who filled the high legal office of lieutenant-criminel, and she married the marquis de brinvilliers at the age of twenty-one. she was possessed of great personal attraction: a small woman of slight, exquisite figure, her face round and regular, her complexion extraordinarily fair, her hair abundant and of a dark chestnut color. everything promised a happy life for the young people. they were drawn together by strong liking, they were fairly rich and held their heads high in the best circle of the court. they lived together happily for some years, and five children were born to them, but presently they fell into extravagant ways and wasted their substance. the marquis became a roué and a gambler, and left his wife very much alone and exposed to temptation, and especially to the marked attentions of a certain godin de st. croix, a young, handsome and seductive gallant, whom the marquis had himself introduced and welcomed to his house. at the trial it was urged that this st. croix had been the real criminal; he is described as a demon of violent and unbridled passion, who had led the marchioness astray, a statement never proved. the liaison soon became public property, but the husband was altogether indifferent to his wife's misconduct, having a disreputable character of his own. the father and brothers strongly disapproved and reproached the marchioness fiercely. the elder d'aubray, quite unable to check the scandal, at last obtained a _lettre de cachet_, an order of summary imprisonment, against st. croix, and the lover was arrested in the marchioness' carriage, seated by her side. he was committed at once to the bastile, where he became the cellmate of an italian generally called exili; although his real name is said to have been egidi, while his occult profession, according to contemporary writers, was that of an artist in poisons. from this chance prison acquaintance flowed the whole of the subsequent crimes. when st. croix was released from the bastile, he obtained the release also of exili and, taking him into his service, the two applied themselves to the extensive manufacture of poisons, assisted by an apothecary named glaser. st. croix was supposed to have reformed. when once more free, he married, became reserved and grew devout. secretly he renewed his intimacy with the marchioness and persuaded her to get rid of her near relatives in order to acquire the whole of the d'aubray property; and he provided her with the poisons for the purpose. m. d'aubray had forgiven his daughter, and had taken her with him to his country estate at offémont in the autumn of . the marchioness treated him with the utmost affection and seemed to have quite abandoned her loose ways. suddenly, soon after their arrival, m. d'aubray was seized with some mysterious malady, accompanied by constant vomitings and intolerable sufferings. removed to paris next day, he was attended by a strange doctor, who had not seen the beginning of the attack, and speedily died in convulsions. it was suggested as the cause of his death, that he had been suffering from gout driven into the stomach. the inheritance was small, and there were four children to share it. the marchioness had two brothers and two sisters. one sister was married and the mother of two children, the other was a carmelite nun. the eldest brother, antoine d'aubray, succeeded to his father's office as lieutenant-criminel, and within four years he also died under suspicious circumstances. he lived in paris, and upon entering his house one day called for a drink. a new valet, named la chaussée, brought him a glass of wine and water. it was horribly bitter to the taste, and d'aubray threw the greater part away, expressing his belief that the rascal, la chaussée, wanted to poison him. it was like liquid fire, and others, who tasted it, declared that it contained vitriol. la chaussée, apologising, recovered the glass, threw the rest of the liquid into the fire and excused himself by saying that a fellow servant had just used the tumbler as a medicine glass. this incident was presently forgotten, but next spring, at a dinner given by m. d'aubray, guests and host were seized with a strange illness after eating a tart or _vol au vent_, and m. d'aubray never recovered his health. he "pined visibly" after his return to paris, losing appetite and flesh, and presently died, apparently of extreme weakness, on the th of june, . a post mortem was held, but disclosed nothing, and the death was attributed to "malignant humours," a ridiculously vague expression showing the medical ignorance of the times. the second brother did not survive. he too was attacked with illness, and died of the same loss of power and vitality. an autopsy resulted in a certain suspicion of foul play. the doctors reported that the lungs of the deceased were ulcerated, the liver and heart burned up and destroyed. undoubtedly there had been noxious action, but it could not be definitely referred to poison. no steps, however, were taken by the police to inquire into the circumstances of this sudden death. meanwhile the marchioness had been deserted by her husband, and she gave herself up to reckless dissipation. when st. croix abandoned her also, she resolved to commit suicide. "i shall put an end to my life," she wrote him in a letter afterwards found among his papers, "by using what you gave me, the preparation of glaser." courage failed her, and now chance or strange fortune intervened with terrible revelations. st. croix's sudden death betrayed the secret of the crime. he was in the habit of working at a private laboratory in the place maubert, where he distilled his lethal drugs. one day as he bent over the furnace, his face protected by a glass mask, the glass burst unexpectedly, and he inhaled a breath of the poisonous fumes, which stretched him dead upon the spot. naturally there could be no destruction of compromising papers, and these at once fell into the hands of the police. before they could be examined, the marchioness, terrified at the prospect of impending detection, committed herself hopelessly by her imprudence. she went at once to the person to whom the papers had been confided and begged for a casket in which were a number of her letters. she was imprudent enough to offer a bribe of fifty louis, and was so eager in her appeal, that suspicion arose and her request was refused. ruin stared her in the face, she went home, got what money she could and fled from paris. the casket was now opened, and fully explained her apprehensions. on top was a paper written by st. croix which ran: "i humbly entreat the person into whose hands this casket may come to convey it to the marchioness brinvilliers, rue neuve st. paul; its contents belong to her and solely concern her and no one else in the world. should she die before me i beg that everything within the box may be burned without examination." in addition to the letters from the marchioness, the casket contained a number of small parcels and phials full of drugs, such as antimony, corrosive sublimate, vitriol in various forms. these were analysed, and some portion of them administered to animals, which immediately died. the law now took action. the first arrest was that of la chaussée, whose complicity with st. croix was undoubted. the man had been in st. croix's service, he had lived with antoine d'aubray, and at the seizure of st. croix's effects, he had rashly protested against the opening of the casket. he was committed to the châtelet and put on his trial with the usual preliminary torture of the "boot." he stoutly refused to make confession at first, but spoke out when released from the rack. his conviction followed, on a charge of having murdered the two lieutenants-criminel, the d'aubrays, father and son. his sentence was, to be broken alive on the wheel, and he was duly executed. this was the first act in the criminal drama. the marchioness was still at large. she had sought an asylum in england, and was known to be in london. colbert, the french minister, applied in his king's name for her arrest and removal to france. but no treaty of extradition existed in those days, and the laws of england were tenacious. even charles ii, the paid pensioner of louis and his very submissive ally, could not impose his authority upon a free people; and the english, then by no means friendly with france, would have resented the arbitrary arrest of even the most dastard criminal for an offence committed beyond the kingdom. history does not say exactly how it was compassed, but the marchioness did leave england, and crossed to the low countries, where she took refuge in a convent in the city of liége. four years passed, but her retreat became known to the police of paris. desgrez, a skilful officer, famous for his successes as a detective, was forthwith despatched to inveigle her away. he assumed the disguise of an abbé, and called at the convent. being a good looking young man of engaging manners, he was well received by the fugitive french woman, sick and weary of conventual restriction. the marchioness, suspecting nothing, gladly accepted the offer of a drive in the country with the astute desgrez, who promptly brought her under escort to the french frontier as a prisoner. a note of her reception at the conciergerie is among the records, to the effect, that, "la brinvilliers, who had been arrested by the king's order in the city of liége, was brought to the prison under a warrant of the court." on the journey from liége she had tried to seduce one of her escort into passing letters to a friend, whom she earnestly entreated to recover certain papers she had left at the convent. these, however, one of them of immense importance, her full confession, had already been secured by desgrez, showing that the abbess had been cognisant of the intended arrest. the marchioness yielded to despair when she heard of the seizure of her papers and would have killed herself, first by swallowing a long pin and next by eating glass. this confession is still extant and will be read with horror--the long list of her crimes and debaucheries set forth with cold-blooded, plain speaking. it was not produced at her trial, which was mainly a prolonged series of detailed interrogatories to which she made persistent denials. as the proceedings drew slowly on, all paris watched with shuddering anxiety, and the king himself, who was absent on a campaign, sent peremptory orders to colbert that no pains should be spared to bring all proof against the guilty woman. conviction was never in doubt. one witness declared that she had made many attempts to get the casket from st. croix; another, that she exulted in her power to rid herself of her enemies, declaring it was easy to give them "a pistol shot in their soup;" a third, that she had exhibited a small box, saying, "it is very small but there is enough inside to secure many successions (inheritances)." hence the euphemism _poudre de succession_, so often employed at that time to signify "deadly poison." the accused still remained obstinately dumb, but at last an eloquent priest, l'abbé pirot, worked upon her feelings of contrition, and obtained a full avowal, not only of her own crimes, but those also of her accomplices. sentence was at once pronounced, and execution quickly followed. torture, both ordinary and extraordinary, was to be first inflicted. the ordeal of water, three buckets-full, led her to ask if they meant to drown her, as assuredly she could not, with her small body, drink so much. after the torture she was to make the _amende honorable_ and the acknowledgment, candle in hand, that vengeance and greed had tempted her to poison her father, brothers and sisters. then her right hand was to be amputated as a parricide; but this penalty was remitted. the execution was carried out under very brutal conditions. no sooner were the prison doors opened than a mob of great ladies rushed in to share and gloat over her sufferings, among them the infamous comtesse de soissons, who was proved later to have been herself a poisoner. an enormous crowd of spectators, at least one hundred thousand, were assembled in the streets, at the windows and on the roofs, and she was received with furious shouts. close by the tumbril rode desgrez, the officer who had captured her in liége. yet she showed the greatest fortitude. "she died as she had lived," writes madame de sévigné, "resolutely. now she is dispersed into the air. her poor little body was thrown into a fierce furnace, and her ashes blown to the four winds of heaven." another person was implicated in this black affair, reich de pennautier, receiver-general of the clergy. when the st. croix casket was opened, a promissory note signed by pennautier had been found. he was suspected of having used poison to remove his predecessor in office. pennautier was arrested and lodged in the conciergerie, where he occupied the old cell of ravaillac for seven days. then he was put on his trial. he found friends, chief of them the reticent madame de brinvilliers, but he had an implacable enemy in the widow of his supposed victim, madame de st. laurent, who continually pursued him in the courts. he was, however, backed by colbert, archbishop of paris, and the whole of the french clergy. in the end he was released, emerging as madame de sévigné put it, "rather whiter than snow," and he retained his offices until he became enormously rich. although his character was smirched in this business he faced the world bravely to a green old age. in france uneasiness was general after the execution of the brinvilliers and the acquittal of pennautier. sinister rumors prevailed that secret poisoning had become quite a trade, facilitated by the existence of carefully concealed offices, where the noxious drugs necessary could be purchased easily by heirs tired of waiting for their succession, and by husbands and wives eager to get rid of one another. within a year suspicion was strengthened by the picking up of an anonymous letter in the confessional of the jesuit church of the rue st. antoine, stating that a plot was afoot to poison both the king and the dauphin. the police set inquiries on foot, and traced the projected crime to two persons, louis vanens and robert de la nurée, the sieur de bachimont. the first of these dabbled openly in love philtres and other unavowable medicines; and he was also suspected of having poisoned the duke of savoy some years previously. bachimont was one of his agents. from this first clue, the police followed the thread of their discoveries, and brought home to a number of people the charge of preparing and selling poisons, two of whom were condemned and executed. a still more important arrest was that of catherine deshayes, the wife of one voisin or monvoisin, a jeweller. from this moment the affair assumed such serious proportions that it was decided to conduct the trial with closed doors. the authorities constituted a royal tribunal to sit in private at the arsenal, and to be known to the public as the _chambre ardente_ or court of poisons. la reynie and another counsellor presided, and observed extreme caution, but were quite unable to keep secret the result of their proceedings. it was soon whispered through paris that the crime of poisoning had extensive ramifications, and that many great people, some nearly related to the throne, were compromised with la voisin. the names were openly mentioned: a bourbon prince, the comte de clermont, the duchesse de bouillon, the princesse de tingry, one of the queen's ladies in waiting, and the marchionesse d'alluye, who had been an intimate friend of fouquet. the duc de luxembourg and others of the highest rank were consigned to the bastile. yet more, the comtesse de soissons, the proudest of cardinal mazarin's nieces and one of the first of the king's favorites, had, by his special grace, been warned to fly from paris to escape imprisonment. no such favor was shown to others. louis xiv sternly bade la reynie to spare no one else, to let justice take its course strictly and expose everything; the safety of the public demanded it, and the hideous evil must be extirpated in its very root. there was to be no distinction of persons or of sex in vindicating the law. such severity was indeed necessary. although the king wished all the documents in the case to be carefully destroyed, some have been preserved. they exhibit the widespread infamy and almost immeasurable guilt of the criminals. colbert stigmatised the facts as "things too execrable to be put on paper; amounting to sacrilege, profanity and abomination." the very basest aims inspired the criminals to seek the king's favor; disappointed beauties would have poisoned their rivals and replaced them in the king's affections. the comtesse de soissons's would-be victim was the beautiful la vallière, and madame de montespan was suspected of desiring to remove mdlle. de fontanges. madame la féron attempted the life of her husband, a president of parliament. the duc de luxembourg was accused of poisoning his duchess. m. de feuquières invited la voisin to get rid of the uncle and guardian of an heiress he wished to marry. the end of these protracted proceedings was the inevitable retribution that waited on their crimes. two hundred and forty-six persons had been brought to trial, of whom thirty-six went to the scaffold, after enduring torture, ordinary and extraordinary. of the rest, some were sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, some to banishment, some to the galleys for life. among those who suffered the extreme penalty were la voisin, la vigouroux, madame de carada, several priests and sieur maillard, who was charged with attempting to poison colbert and the king himself. the bastile, vincennes and every state prison were crowded with the poisoners, and for years the registers of castles and fortresses contained the names of inmates committed by the _chambre ardente_ of the arsenal. the edict which dissolved this special tribunal laid down stringent laws to protect the public against future poisoning. a clean sweep was made of the charlatans, the pretended magicians who came from abroad and imposed upon the credulity of the french people, who united sacrilege and impious practices with the manufacture and distribution of noxious drugs. several clauses in the edict dealt with poisons, describing their action and effect,--in some cases instantaneous, in others slow, gradually undermining health and originating mysterious maladies, that proved fatal in the end. the sale of deleterious substances was strictly regulated, such as arsenic and corrosive sublimate, and the use of poisonous vermin, "snakes, vipers and frogs," in medical prescriptions was forbidden. a few words more as to the comtesse de soissons, who was suffered to fly from france, but could find no resting place. her reputation preceded her, and she was refused admittance into antwerp. in flanders she ingratiated herself with the duke of parma, and lived under his protection for several years. finally she appeared in madrid, and was received at court. then the young queen of spain died suddenly with all the symptoms of poisoning, and madame de soissons was immediately suspected, for unexpected and mysterious deaths always followed in her trail. she was driven from the country, and died a wanderer in great poverty. no account of the means of repression of those days in france would be complete without including the galleys,--the system of enforced labor at the oars, practised for many centuries by all the mediterranean nations, and dating back to classical times. these ancient warships, making at best but six miles an hour by human effort under the lash, are in strong contrast with the modern ironclad impelled by steam. but the venetians and the genoese owned fine fleets of galleys and won signal naval victories with them. france long desired to rival these powers, and henry iii, when returning from poland to mount the french throne, paused at venice to visit the arsenal and see the warships in process of construction. at that time france had thirty galleys afloat, twenty-six of the highest order and worked by convicts (_galeriens_). this number was not always maintained, and in colbert, bidding for sea power and striving hard to add to the french navy, ordered six new ships to be laid down at marseilles, and sought to buy a number, all standing, from the republic of genoa and the grand duke of tuscany. these efforts were crowned with success. in there were twenty galleys under the french flag, and colbert wrote the intendant at marseilles that his master, louis xiv, was eager to possess one royal ship which would outvie any hitherto launched on the seas. the increase continued, and in the fleet numbered thirty, rising to forty-two by the end of the century. it was not enough to build the ships; the difficulty was to man them. the custom of sending condemned convicts to ply the oar was ancient, and dated back to the reign of charles vii. but it was little used until francis i desired to strengthen his navy, and he ordered parliaments and tribunals to consign to the galleys all able-bodied offenders who deserved death and had been condemned to bodily penalties, whatsoever crimes they had committed. the supply of this personnel was precarious, and colbert wrote to the judges to be more severe with their sentences, and to inflict the galleys in preference to death, a commutation likely to be welcome to the culprit. but some of the parliaments demurred. that of dijon called it changing the law, and the president, protesting, asked for new ordinances. colbert put the objection aside arbitrarily. he increased the pressure on the courts and dealt sharply with the keepers of local gaols, who did not use sufficient promptness in sending on their quotas of convicts to marseilles and toulon. many escapes from the chain were made by the way, so carelessly conducted was the transfer. this "chain," a disgrace to humanity, was employed in france till quite within our own day. the wretched convicts made their long pilgrimage on foot from all parts of the country to the southern coast. they were chained together in gangs and marched painfully in all weathers, mile after mile, along their weary road under military escort. no arrangements were made for them by the way. they were fed on any coarse food that could be picked up, and were lodged for the night in sheds and stables if any could be found; if not, under the sky. death took its toll of them ere they reached their destination. they were a scarce commodity and yet no measures were adopted to preserve their health and strength. the ministers in paris were continually urging the presidents of parliaments to augment the supplies of the condemned, and were told that the system was in fault, that numbers died in their miserable cells waiting removal, and many made their escape on the journey. still the demands of the galleys were insatiable, and many contrivances were adopted to reinforce the crews. colbert desired to send to them all vagabonds, all sturdy beggars, smugglers and men without visible means of support, but a change in the law was required and the authorities for a time shrank from it. another expedient was to hire _forcats_ from the duke of savoy, who had no warships. turkish and russian slaves were purchased to work the oars, and negroes from the guinea coast. as a measure of retaliation against spain, prisoners of war of that nation were treated as galley slaves, a custom abhorrent to fair usage. it was carried so far as to include the red indians, iroquois, captured in canada in the fierce war then in progress. numbers were taken by unworthy stratagem and passed over to france, and the result was an embittered contest, which endured for four years. a fresh device was to seek volunteers. these "bonne-voglies," or "bonivoglios," the italian form most commonly used, were so called because they contracted of their own free will to accept service in the galleys, to live the wretched life of the galley slave, to submit to all his hardships, meagre fare and cruel usage, to be chained to the oar, and driven to labor under the ready lash of the overseers. these free _forcats_ soon claimed greater consideration, and it was necessary to treat them more leniently and in a way injurious to discipline in the opinion of the captains and intendants. the convicts were more submissive and more laborious, and still the authorities sought to multiply them. a more disgraceful system than any of these already mentioned was now practised,--that of illegal detention long after the sentence had expired. by an old ordinance, any captain who thus detained a convict was liable to instant dismissal. other laws, however, fixed a minimum term of ten years' detention, what though the original sentence was considerable. under louis xiii it was ruled that six years should be the lowest term, on the ground that during the two first years a galley slave was useless on account of weak physique and want of skill in rowing. later a good bishop of marseilles pleaded the cause of convicts who had endured a term of twice or three times their first sentence. a case was quoted in which _thirty-four_, convicted between and , and sentenced to two, three or four years, were still languishing in chains in . an official document of that year gives the names of twenty who had served fifteen to twenty years beyond their sentence. the intendant of the galleys at marseilles reports in , that on examining the registers he had found a certain soldier still in custody who was sentenced by a military court in to five years, and who had therefore endured fourteen. again, a man named caneau was sentenced in to two years and was still in confinement twelve years later. true it was open to the _galerien_ to buy a substitute, a turkish or other "bonivoglio," but the price, eight hundred or one thousand francs, was scarcely within the reach of the miserable creatures at the _bagnes_. it is difficult to exaggerate the horrors of the galleys. no wonder that many preferred suicide or self-mutilation to enduring it! afloat or ashore, the convict's condition was wretched in the extreme. on board ship each individual was chained to his bench, day and night, and the short length of the chain, as well as the nearness of his neighbors, limited his movements. his whole clothing consisted of a single loose blouse of coarse red canvas, with neither shoes nor stockings and little underlinen. his diet was of brown beans cooked in a little oil, black bread and a morsel of bacon. personal cleanliness was entirely neglected, and all alike suffered from scurvy and were infested with vermin. labor was incessant while at sea, and the overseers, walking on a raised platform, which ran fore and aft between the benches of rowers, stimulated effort by using their whips upon the bending backs below them. at times silence was strictly required,--as when moving to the attack or creeping away from an enemy and the whole ship's company was gagged with a wooden ball inserted in the mouth. in the barracks ashore, when the ships were laid up for the winter, the convicts' lot was somewhat better, for they were not at the mercy of the elements, and there was no severe labor; but the other conditions, such as diet, clothing and general discomfort, were the same. now and again if any distinguished visitor arrived at the port, it was the custom to treat them to a cruise in one of the great galleys. the ship was dressed with all her colors, the convicts were washed clean, and wore their best red shirts, and they were trained to salute the great folk who condescended to come on board, by a strange shout of welcome: "hou! hou! hou!" a cry thrice repeated, resembling the roar of a wild beast. the merciless treatment accorded by louis xiv to the protestants, who dared to hold their own religious opinions, will be better realised when it is stated that great numbers of them were consigned to the galleys, to serve for years side by side with the worst malefactors, with savage iroquois and infidel turks, and to endure the selfsame barbarities inflicted on the wretched refuse of mankind. no greater stain rests upon the memory of a ruler, whom the weak-kneed sycophants of his age misnamed la grande monarque, than this monstrous persecution of honest, honorable people, who were ready to suffer all rather than sacrifice liberty of conscience. how deep and ineffaceable is the stain shall be shown in the next chapter. chapter ix the horrors of the galleys huguenots sent to the galleys--authentic memoirs of jean marteilhe--description of galleys--construction--method of rowing--extreme severity of labor--a sea fight--marteilhe severely wounded--his sufferings--dunkirk acquired by the english--huguenot prisoners sent secretly to havre--removed to paris--included in the chain gang for marseilles--cruelties en route--detention at marseilles--renewed efforts to proselytise--more about the galleys--dress, diet, occupation and discipline--winter season--labor constant--summer season. no blot upon the reign of louis xiv is blacker than his treatment of the huguenots,--most faithful of his subjects could he have perceived it, and the flower of his people. they were hardly more devoted to their faith than they were to france, and it was their faith in god that inspired their patriotism; and yet because they would not abandon their right of conscience they were hounded like a subject, savage people. a remarkable record of the sufferings endured by one of these victims "for the faith" has come down to us in the "memoirs of a protestant, condemned to the galleys of france for his religion." the author is said to have been one jean marteilhe, but the book was published anonymously at the hague in the middle of the eighteenth century. it purports to be "a comprehensive account of the various distresses he suffered in a slavery of thirteen years and his constance in supporting almost every cruelty that bigoted zeal could inflict or human nature sustain; also a description of the galleys and the service in which they are employed." the writer states that he was at last set free at the intercession of the court of great britain in the reign of queen anne. jean marteilhe belonged to a family which had been dispersed in the dragonades, and he resolved to fly the country. passing through paris he made for maestricht in holland, but was intercepted and detained at marienburg, a town in the french dominions, where he and his companions were imprisoned and charged with being found upon the frontier without a passport. they were called upon to abjure their faith or to be sent instantly to the galleys; they were guilty of endeavoring to quit the kingdom against the king's ordinance. then began a weary pilgrimage on foot, handcuffed together, "confined every evening in such loathsome prisons as shocked even us, although by this time familiarised to distress." on reaching tournay they were thrown into a dungeon and kept there many weeks, "laying continually upon an old pallet quite rotten and swarming with vermin, placed near a door, through a hole in which our daily allowance of bread was thrown." they remained six weeks in this situation, when they were joined in prison by two friends,--alleged huguenots but less resolute than marteilhe in their belief, for they presently went over and embraced the catholic religion. marteilhe sturdily resisted all attempts at conversion, although all were continually importuned by the priests; yet nevertheless entertained hopes of release, which were never realised. they passed on from gaol to gaol until at last they reached dunkirk, at that time a french port and the home port of six war galleys. on their arrival they were at once separated and each committed to a different ship. marteilhe's was the _heureuse_, where he took his place upon the bench, which was to be his terrible abode for many years. the description given by our author of the system in force at the galleys and of the galleys themselves may be quoted here at some length: "a galley is ordinarily a hundred and fifty feet long and fifty feet broad. it consists of but one deck, which covers the hold. this hold is in the middle, seven feet high, but at the sides of the galley only six feet. by this we may see that the deck rises about a foot in the centre, and slopes towards the edges to let the water run off more easily; for when a galley is loaded it seems to swim under water, at least the sea constantly washes the deck. the sea would then necessarily enter the hold by the apertures where the masts are placed, were it not prevented by what is called the _coursier_. this is a long case of boards fixed on the middle or highest part of the deck and running from one end of the galley to the other. there is also a hatchway into the hold as high as the _coursier_. from this superficial description perhaps it may be imagined that the slaves and the rest of the crew have their feet always in water. but the case is otherwise; for to each bench there is a board raised a foot from the deck, which serves as a footstool to the rowers, under which the water passes. for the soldiers and mariners there is, running on each side, along the gunnel of the vessel, what is called the _bande_, which is a bench of about the same height with the _coursier_, and two feet broad. they never lie here, but each leans on his own particular bundle of clothes in a very incommodious posture. the officers themselves are not better accommodated; for the chambers in the hold are designed only to hold the provisions and naval stores of the galley. "the hold is divided in six apartments. the first of these in importance is the _gavon_. this is a little chamber in the poop, which is big enough only to hold the captain's bed. the second is the _escandolat_, where the captain's provisions are kept and dressed. the third is the _compagne_. this contains the beer, wine, oil, vinegar and fresh water of the whole crew, together with their bacon, salt meat, fish and cheese; they never use butter. the fourth, the _paillot_. here are kept the dried provisions, as biscuits, pease, rice, etc. the fifth is called the _tavern_. this apartment is in the middle of the galley. it contains the wine, which is retailed by the comite, and of which he enjoys the profits. this opens into the powder room, of which the gunner alone keeps the key. in this chamber also the sails and tents are kept. the sixth and last apartment is called the _steerage_, where the cordage and the surgeon's chest are kept. it serves also during a voyage as a hospital for the sick and wounded, who, however, have no other bed to lie on than ropes. in winter, when the galley is laid up, the sick are sent to a hospital in the city. "a galley has fifty benches for rowers, that is to say, twenty-five on each side. each bench is ten feet long. one end is fixed in the _coursier_, the other in the _bande_. they are each half a foot thick and are placed four feet from each other. they are covered with sack-cloth stuffed with flocks, and over this is thrown a cowhide, which reaching down to the _banquet_, or footstool, gives them the resemblance of large trunks. to these the slaves are chained, six to a bench. along the _bande_ runs a large rim of timber, about a foot thick, which forms the gunnel of the galley. to this, which is called the _apostie_, the oars are fixed. these are fifty feet long, and are balanced upon the aforementioned piece of timber; so that the thirteen feet of oar which comes into the galley is equal in weight to the thirty-seven which go into the water. as it would be impossible to hold them in the hand because of their thickness they have handles by which they are managed by the slaves." the writer passes on to the method of rowing a galley and says: "the comite, who is the master of the crew of slaves and the tyrant so much dreaded by the wretches fated to this misery, stands always at the stern, near the captain, to receive his orders. there are two lieutenants also, one in the middle, the other near the prow. these, each with a whip of cords which they exercise without mercy on the naked bodies of the slaves, are always attentive to the orders of the comite. when the captain gives the word for rowing the comite gives the signal with a silver whistle which hangs from his neck. this is repeated by the lieutenants, upon which the slaves, who have their oars in readiness, strike all at once and beat time so exactly, that the hundred and fifty oars seem to give but one blow. thus they continue, without requiring further orders, till by another signal of the whistle they desist in a moment. there is an absolute necessity for all rowing thus together; for should one of the oars be lifted up or let fall too soon, those in the next bench forward, leaning back, necessarily strike the oar behind them with the hinder part of their heads, while the slaves of this bench do the same by those behind them. it were well if a few bruises on the head were the only punishment. the comite exercises the whip on this occasion like a fury, while the muscles, all in convulsion under the lash, pour streams of blood down the seats; which how dreadful soever it may seem to the reader, custom teaches the sufferers to bear without murmuring. "the labor of a galley slave has become a proverb; nor is it without reason that this may be reckoned the greatest fatigue that can be inflicted on wretchedness. imagine six men, naked as when born, chained to their seats, sitting with one foot on a block of timber fixed to the footstool or stretcher, the other lifted up against the bench before them, holding in their hands an oar of enormous size. imagine them stretching their bodies, their arms outreached to push the oar over the backs of those before them, who are also themselves in a similar attitude. having thus advanced their oar, they raise that end which they hold in their hands, to plunge the opposite end, or blade, in the sea, which done, they throw themselves back on their benches for the stroke. none, in short, but those who have seen them labor, can conceive how much they endure. none but such could be persuaded that human strength could sustain the fatigue which they undergo for an hour without resting. but what cannot necessity and cruelty make men do? almost impossibilities. certain it is that a galley can be navigated in no other manner but by a crew of slaves, over whom a comite may exercise the most unbounded authority. no free man could continue at the oar an hour unwearied; yet a slave must sometimes lengthen out his toil for ten, twelve, nay, for twenty hours without the smallest intermission. on these occasions, the comite, or one of the other mariners, puts into the mouths of those wretches a bit of bread steeped in wine, to prevent fainting through excess of fatigue or hunger, while their hands are employed upon the oar. at such times are heard nothing but horrid blasphemies, loud bursts of despair, or ejaculations to heaven; all the slaves are streaming with blood, while their unpitying taskmasters mix oaths and threats and the smacking of whips, to fill up this dreadful harmony. at this time the captain roars to the comite to redouble his blows, and when anyone drops from his oar in a swoon, which not infrequently happens, he is whipped while any remains of life appear, and then thrown into the sea without further ceremony." marteilhe fell to a galley commanded by a comite, commonly reputed of cruel character and said to be "merciless as a demon." yet the young protestant, who was of fine muscular physique, found favor with this severe master, who ordered him to be chained to the bench under his immediate charge. quoting still further from his "memoirs,"--he writes: "it may not be unnecessary to mention that the comite eats upon a table raised over one of the seats, by four iron feet. this table also serves him for a bed, and when he chooses to sleep, it is covered with a large pavilion made of cotton. the six slaves of that bench sit under the table, which can easily be taken away when it interferes with the working of the vessel. these six slaves serve as domestics to the comite. each has his particular employ; and whenever the comite eats or sits here, all the slaves of this bench and the benches next it are uncovered out of respect. everyone is ambitious of being either on the comite's bench or on one of the lieutenants' benches; not only because they have what is left of the provisions of his table, but also because they are never whipped while at work. those are called the 'respectable benches;' and being placed in one of them is looked upon as being in a petty office. i was, as already mentioned, placed in this bench, which however i did not long keep; for still retaining some of the pride of this world, i could not prevail upon myself to behave with that degree of abject submission which was necessary to my being in favor. while the comite was at meals, i generally faced another way, and, with my cap on, pretended to take no notice of what was passing behind me. the slaves frequently said that such behavior would be punished, but i disregarded their admonition, thinking it sufficiently opprobrious to be the slave of the king, without being also the slave of his meanest vassal. i had by this means like to have fallen into the displeasure of the comite, which is one of the greatest misfortunes that can befall a galley slave. he inquired whether i partook of those provisions he usually left, and upon being told that i refused to touch a bit, said 'give him his own way, for the present; a few years' servitude will divest him of this delicacy.' "one evening the comite called me to his pavilion, and accosting me with more than usual gentleness, unheard by the rest, he let me understand that he perceived i was born of a rank superior to the rest of his crew, which rather increased than diminished his esteem; but, as by indulging my disrespectful behavior the rest might take example, he found it necessary to transfer me to another bench. however i might rest assured of never receiving a blow from him or his inferior officers upon any occasion whatsoever. i testified my gratitude in the best manner i was able; and from that time he kept his promise, which was something extraordinary in one who usually seemed divested of every principle of humanity. never was man more severe to the slaves in general than he, yet he preserved a moderation towards the huguenots of his galley, which argued a regard for virtue, not usually found among the lower classes of people." constant labor at the oar was terrible enough, but its horrors were accentuated when the galley went into action. marteilhe was engaged in several sea-fights, one of the fiercest being an engagement with an english warship convoying a fleet of merchantmen to the thames. "of the two galleys ordered to attack the frigate," says he, "ours alone was in a position to begin the engagement, as our consort had fallen back at least a league behind us; either because she did not sail so fast as we, or else her captain chose to let us have the honor of striking the first blow. our commodore, who seemed in no way disturbed at the approach of the frigate, thought our galley alone would be more than a match for the englishman; but the sequel will show that he was somewhat mistaken in this conjecture. "as we both mutually approached each other, we were soon within cannon shot, and accordingly the galley discharged her broadside. the frigate, silent as death, approached us without firing a gun, but seemed steadily resolved to reserve all her terrors for a closer engagement. our commodore, nevertheless, mistook english resolution for cowardice. 'what,' cried he, 'is the frigate weary of carrying english colors? and does she come to surrender without a blow?' the boast was premature. still we approached each other and were now within musket shot. the galley incessantly poured in her broadside and small arm fire, the frigate, all this while, preserving the most dreadful tranquillity that imagination can conceive. at last the englishman seemed all at once struck with a panic, and began to fly for it. nothing gives more spirits than a flying enemy, and nothing was heard but the boasting among our officers. 'we could at one blast sink a man of war; aye, that we could and with ease, too!' 'if mr. english does not strike in two minutes, down he goes, down to the bottom!' all this time the frigate was in silence, preparing for the tragedy which was to ensue. her flight was but pretended, and done with a view to entice us to board her astern, which, being the weakest quarter of a man-of-war, galleys generally choose to attack. against this quarter they endeavor to drive their beak, and then generally board the enemy, after having cleared the decks with their five pieces of cannon. the commodore, in such a favorable conjuncture as he imagined this to be, ordered the galley to board and the men at the helm to bury her beak in the frigate if possible. all the soldiers and sailors stood ready with their sabres and battle-axes to execute his command. the frigate, who perceived our intention, dexterously avoided our beak, which was just ready to be dashed against her stern, so that instead of seeing the frigate sink in the dreadful encounter as was expected, we had the mortification of beholding her fairly alongside of us,--an interview which struck us with terror. now it was that the english captain's courage was conspicuous. as he had foreseen what would happen, he was ready with his grappling irons and fixed us fast by his side. his artillery began to open, charged with grape-shot. all on board the galley were as much exposed as if upon a raft. not a gun was fired that did not make horrible execution; we were near enough even to be scorched with the flame. the english masts were filled with sailors, who threw hand-grenades among us like hail, that scattered wounds and death wherever they fell. our crew no longer thought of attacking; they were even unable to make the least defence. the terror was so great, as well among the officers as common men, that they seemed incapable of resistance. those who were neither killed nor wounded lay flat and counterfeited death to find safety. the enemy perceiving our fright, to add to our misfortunes, threw in forty or fifty men, who, sword in hand, hewed down all that ventured to oppose, sparing however the slaves who made no resistance. after they had cut away thus for some time, being constrained by our still surviving numbers, they continued to pour an infernal fire upon us. "the galley which had lain astern was soon up with us, and the other four who had almost taken possession of the merchantmen, upon seeing our signal and perceiving our distress, quitted the intended prey to come to our assistance. thus the whole fleet of merchant ships saved themselves in the thames. the galleys rowed with such swiftness that in less than half an hour the whole six had encompassed the frigate. her men were now no longer able to keep the deck, and she presented a favorable opportunity for being boarded. twenty-five grenadiers from each galley were ordered upon this service. they met with no opposition in coming on; but scarce were they crowded upon the deck when they were saluted once again _à l'anglais_. the officers of the frigate were entrenched in the forecastle, and fired upon the grenadiers incessantly. the rest of the crew also did what execution they were able through the gratings, and at last cleared the ship of the enemy. another detachment was ordered to board, but with the same success; however it was at last thought advisable, with hatchets and other proper instruments, to lay open her decks and by that means to make the crew prisoners of war. this was, though with extreme difficulty, executed; and in spite of their firing, which killed several of the assailants, the frigate's crew was at last constrained to surrender." marteilhe was seriously wounded in this fight, and he graphically details his sufferings as he lay there still chained to the bench, the only survivor of his six companions at the oar. he says: "i had not been long in this attitude when i perceived somewhat moist and cold run down my body. i put my hand to the place and found it wet; but as it was dark i was unable to distinguish what it was. i suspected it, however, to be blood, flowing from some wound, and following with my hand the course of the stream, i found my shoulder near the clavicle was pierced quite through. i now felt another gash in my left leg below the knee, which also went through; again another, made i suppose by a splinter, which ripped the integuments of my belly, the wound being a foot long and four inches wide. i lost a great quantity of blood before i could have any assistance. all near me were dead, as well those before and behind me, and those of my own seat. of eighteen persons on the three seats, there was left surviving only myself, wounded as i was in three different places, and all by the explosion of one cannon only. but if we consider the manner of charging with grape-shot our wonder at such prodigious slaughter will cease. after the cartouche of powder, a long tin box filled with musket balls is rammed in. when the piece is fired the box breaks and scatters its contents most surprisingly. "i was now forced to wait till the battle was ended before i could expect any relief. all on board were in the utmost confusion; the dead, the dying and the wounded, lying upon each other, made a frightful scene. groans from those who desired to be freed from the dead, blasphemies from the slaves who were wounded unto death, arraigning heaven for making their end not less unhappy than their lives had been. the _coursier_ could not be passed for the dead bodies which lay on it. the seats were filled, not only with slaves, but also with sailors and officers who were wounded or slain. such was the carnage that the living hardly found room to throw the dead into the sea, or succor the wounded. add to all this the obscurity of the night, and where could misery have been found to equal mine! "the wounded were thrown indiscriminately into the hold,--petty officers, sailors, soldiers and slaves; there was no distinction of places, no bed to lie upon, nor any succor to be had. with respect to myself, i continued three days in this miserable situation. the blood coming from my wounds was stopped by a little spirit of wine, but there was no bandage tied, nor did the surgeon once come to examine whether i was dead or alive. in this suffocating hole, the wounded, who might otherwise have survived, died in great numbers. the heat and the stench were intolerable, so that the slightest sore seemed to mortify; while those who had lost limbs or received large wounds went off by universal putrefaction. "in this deplorable situation we at last arrived at dunkirk, where the wounded were put on shore in order to be carried to the marine hospital. we were drawn up from the hold by pulleys and carried to the hospital on men's shoulders. the slaves were consigned to two large apartments separate from the men who were free, forty beds in each room. every slave was chained by the leg to the foot of his bed. we were visited once every day by the surgeon-major of the hospital, accompanied by all the army and navy surgeons then in port." better fortune came to marteilhe when he recovered. he was appointed clerk to the captain of the galley, being maimed by his wounds and no longer fit for the oar. "behold me now," he writes, "placed in a more exalted station, not less than the captain's clerk, forsooth. as i knew my master loved cleanliness, i purchased a short coat of red stuff (galley-slaves must wear no other color) tolerably fine. i was permitted to let my hair grow. i bought a scarlet cap, and in this trim presented myself before the captain, who was greatly pleased with my appearance. he gave his _maître d'hôtel_ orders to carry me every day a plate of meat from his own table and to furnish me with a bottle of wine, luxuries to which i had long been a stranger. i was never more chained and only wore a ring about my leg in token of slavery. i lay upon a good bed. i had nothing fatiguing to do, even at times when all the rest of the crew were lashed to the most violent exertion. i was loved and respected by the officers and the rest of the crew, cherished by my master and by his nephew, the major of the galleys. in short, i wanted nothing but liberty to increase the happiness i then enjoyed. in this state, if not of pleasure at least of tranquillity, i continued from the year to , in which it pleased heaven to afflict me with trials more severe than even those i had already experienced." england acquired dunkirk by special treaty with france in . upon the transfer the english troops entered the city and took possession of the citadel. the french galleys were to remain in port until the fortifications were demolished, and it was agreed that no vessel should leave dunkirk without permission from her britannic majesty. the galley-slaves remained on board their ships, but by some strange oversight it was not stipulated that the protestant prisoners, with whose sad condition the english fully sympathised, should be released. the french government was still determined to retain them, and planned to carry them off secretly into france before any demand could be made for their release. in the dead of night they were embarked to the number of twenty-two on board a fishing boat and taken by water to calais, where they were landed to make the long journey on foot, chained together, to havre-de-grace. here they were held close prisoners in the arsenal, but fairly well treated. after some weeks, orders came for their removal to rouen, en route for paris and eventually to marseilles. through the kindness of their co-religionists, who came charitably to their aid, they were provided with wagons for the journey in which all were carried to the capital, where on arrival they were lodged in the ancient castle of tournelle, formerly a pleasure house belonging to the royal family, but by now converted into a prison for galley-slaves. it is thus described by marteilhe: "this prison, or rather cavern, is round and of vast extent. the floor is made uneven by large oak beams, which are placed at three feet distance from each other. these beams are two feet and a half thick, and ranged along the floors in such a manner that at first sight they might be taken for benches, were they not designed for a much more disagreeable purpose. to these were fastened large iron chains, a foot and a half long, at intervals of two feet from each other. at the end of each chain is a large ring of the same metal. when the slave is first brought into this prison, he is made to lie along the beam till his head touches it. then the ring is put round his neck and fastened by a hammer and anvil kept for the purpose. as the chains are fixed in the beam at two feet distance from each other, and some of the beams are forty feet long, sometimes twenty men are thus chained down in a row and so in proportion to the length of the beams. in this manner are fastened five hundred wretches in an attitude certainly pitiful enough to melt the hardest heart. [illustration: _château d'if_ fortress on a small island two miles southwest of marseilles: one of the scenes of dumas's novel "count of monte cristo," and the place of captivity of several celebrated persons, among them mirabeau and philippe Égalité.] "we remained here (in the tournelle) but a month, at the expiration of which time we set out with the rest of the slaves for marseilles. on the tenth of december, at nine in the morning, we left our dismal abode and were conducted into a spacious court of the castle. we were chained by the neck, two and two together, with a heavy chain three feet long, in the middle of which was fixed a ring. after being thus paired, we were placed in ranks, couple before couple, and a long and weighty chain passed through the rings, by which means we were all fastened together. this 'chain,' which consisted of more than four hundred slaves, made a strange appearance. once more a protestant friend interposed and purchased the captain's consent to allow them to provide wagons on the road for those unable to walk. but the trials endured by the majority of these wretched wayfarers were terribly severe. we entered charenton at six in the evening by moonlight. it froze excessively hard, but the weight of our chains, according to the captain's calculation, being a hundred and fifty pounds upon every man, with the swiftness of our pace, had kept us pretty warm, and we were all actually in a sweat when we entered charenton. here we were lodged in the stable of an inn, but chained so close to the manger, that we could neither sit nor lie at our ease. beside, we had no bed but the dung and the litter of horses to repose on; for as the captain conducted the train to marseilles at his own expense, where he received twenty crowns for every one that survived the journey, he was as saving as possible and refused us bedding, nor was any allowed the whole way. here, however, we were suffered to repose, if it might be called repose, till nine at night, when we were to undergo another piece of cruelty, which almost disgraces humanity. "at nine o'clock, while it yet froze excessively hard, our chains were again unriveted and we were all led from the stable into a court surrounded by high walls. the whole train, which was ranked at one end of the court, was commanded to strip off all clothes and lay them down each before him. the whip was exercised unmercifully on those who were lazy or presumed to disobey. every one promiscuously, as well we as others, was obliged to comply with this unnecessary command. after we were thus stripped, naked as when born, the whole train was again commanded to march from the side of the court in which they were to the side opposite them. here were we for two hours, stark naked, exposed to all the inclemency of the weather and a cutting wind that blew from the north. all this time the archers were rummaging our rags under pretence of searching for knives, files or other instruments that might be employed in effecting our escape; but in reality money was that for which they sought so earnestly. they took away everything that was worth taking,--handkerchiefs, shirts, snuff-boxes, scissors,--and never returned anything they laid hands on. when any slave entreated to have his goods restored, he was only answered by blows and menaces, which effectually silenced if not satisfied the querist. this rummage being over, all were ordered to march back to the place from whence we came, and take again each his respective bundle of clothes. but it was impossible. we were almost frozen to death, and so stiff with cold that scarce one in the whole train could move. and though the distance was but small, yet frozen like statues, every wretch remained where he was and silently awaited fresh instances of their keeper's cruelty. but they did not long wait; the whip again was handled and by the merciless fury of these strangers to pity, the bodies of the poor wretches were mangled without distinction; but all in vain, for this could not supply vital warmth where life was no more. some actually dead, others dying, were dragged along by the neck and thrown into the stable, without further ceremony, to take their fate. and thus died that night or the ensuing morning, eighteen persons. with respect to our little society, we were neither beaten nor thus dragged along and we may well attribute the saving of our lives to the hundred crowns which had been advanced before our setting out." further details of this cruel march may be spared the reader. "in this manner," says marteilhe, "we crossed the isle of france, burgundy and the mâconnais, till we came to lyons, marching every day three or four leagues; long stages, considering the weight of our chains, our being obliged to sleep every night in stables upon dung, our having bad provisions and not sufficient liquid to dilute them, walking all day mid-leg in mud, and frequently wet through with rain; swarming with vermin and ulcerated with the itch, the almost inseparable attendants on misery." at lyons the whole train embarked in large flat-bottomed boats and dropped down the rhone as far as the bridge st. esprit; thence by land to avignon and from avignon to marseilles, which they reached on the th of january, , having spent some six weeks on the road. the treatment accorded to the galley-slaves at marseilles was identical with that of dunkirk. but now the case of the protestants engaged the serious attention of the northern nations, and strong representations were made to the french king, demanding their release. but now in the vain hope of retaining them, the most pertinacious efforts were made to obtain that abjuration of the faith which had been steadfastly rejected by the sufferers for so many years. bigoted priests with special powers of persuasion were called in with fresh zeal for proselytising, but being entirely unsuccessful they concentrated their efforts to impede and prolong the negotiations for release. when at last the order came, due to the vigorous interposition of the queen of england, it was limited to a portion only of the protestant prisoners. one hundred and thirty-six were released, and among them jean marteilhe; but the balance were retained quite another year. marteilhe, after a short stay at geneva, travelled northwards, and at length went with some of his comrades to england. they were granted a special audience with queen anne, and were permitted to kiss her majesty's hand, and were assured from her own mouth of the satisfaction afforded by their deliverance. a few details may be extracted from marteilhe's story as to the dress, diet, occupation and general discipline of one of louis' galleys. as to dress he tells us: "each slave receives every year linen shirts, somewhat finer than that of which sails are made; two pair of knee trousers, which are made without any division, like a woman's petticoat,--for they must be put on over the head because of the chain; one pair of stockings made of coarse red stuff, but no shoes. however, when the slaves are employed in the business of the galley by land, as frequently happens in winter, the keeper on that occasion furnishes them with shoes, which he takes back when the slaves return aboard. they are supplied every second year with a cassock of coarse red stuff. the tailor shows no great marks of an artist in making it up; it is only a piece of stuff doubled, one half for the forepart, the other for the back; at the top a hole to put the head through. it is sewed up on each side, and has two little sleeves which descend to the elbow. this cassock has something the shape of what is called in holland a 'keil,' which carters generally wear over the rest of their clothes. the habit of the former is, however, not so long, for it reaches before only down to the knees, and behind it falls half a foot lower. besides all this, they are allowed every year a red cap, very short, as it must not cover the ears. lastly they are given every second year a great coat of coarse cloth made of wool and hair. this habit is made in the form of a nightgown and descends to the feet; it is furnished with a hood not unlike the cowl of a capuchin friar. this is by far the best part of a slave's scanty wardrobe; for it serves him for mattress and blankets at night, and keeps him warm by day." as will have been gathered from the preceding description, the galleys were mainly intended for sea service and occasional combat, but this was only in the summer months. as winter approached, generally about the latter end of october, the galleys were laid up in harbor and disarmed. "the first precaution is to land the gunpowder, for they never bring their powder into port. the galleys are next brought in and ranged along the quay according to the order of precedence, with the stern next the quay. there are then boards laid, called _planches_, to serve as a passage from the quay to the galley. the masts are taken down and laid in the _coursier_, and the yards lie all along the seats. after this they take out the cannon, the warlike stores, provisions, sails, cordage, anchors, etc. the sailors and coasting pilots are discharged, and the rest of the crew lodged in places appointed for them in the city of dunkirk. here the principal officers have their pavilions, though they lodge in them but seldom, the greatest part spending the winter at paris or at their own homes. the galley being at last entirely cleared, the slaves find room enough to fix their wretched quarters for the winter. the company belonging to each seat procure pieces of boards, which they lay across the seats and upon these make their beds. the only bed between them and the boards is a cast-off greatcoat; their only covering that which they wear during the day. the first rower of each seat, who has consequently the first choice, is best lodged; the second shares the next best place; the four others are lodged, each, on the cross planks already mentioned, according to his order. "when the weather grows extremely cold, there are two tents raised over the galley, one above the other. the outermost is generally made of the same stuff of which the slaves' greatcoats are formed, and keeps the galley sufficiently warm; i mean it seems warm to those who are accustomed to this hard way of living. for those who have been used to their own houses and warm fires would never be able to support the cold without being habituated to it beforehand. a little fire to warm them and a blanket to cover them would make our slaves extremely happy, but this is a happiness never allowed them on board. at break of day the comites, who always sleep on board together with the keepers and halberdiers, blow their whistles, at the sound of which all must rise. this is always done precisely at the same hour; for the commodore every evening gives the signal to the comite by firing a cannon for the slaves to go to sleep, and repeats the same at break of day for their getting up. if in the morning any should be lazy and not rise when they hear the whistle, they may depend on being lashed severely. the crew being risen, their first care is to fold up their beds, to put the seats in order, to sweep between them and wash them when necessary. the sides of the tent are raised up by stanchions provided for that purpose in order to air the galley; though when the wind blows hard, that side to the leeward only is raised. when this is done every slave sits down on his own seat and does something to earn himself a little money. "it is necessary to be known, that no slave must be idle. the comites, who observe their employments every day, come up to those they see unemployed and ask why they do not work. if it is answered that they understand no trade, he gives them cotton yarn, and bids them knit it into stockings; and if the slave knows not how to knit, the comite appoints one of his companions of the same seat to instruct him. it is a trade easily learnt; but as there are some who are either lazy, stupid or stubborn and will not learn, they are sure to be remarked by the comites who seldom show them any future favor. if they will not work at that for their own advantage, the comite generally gives them some work impossible to perform; and when they have labored in vain to execute his commands, he whips them for laziness; so that in their own defence, they are at last obliged to learn to knit. "whenever a slave is missing, there are guns fired one after the other, which advertise his escape to the peasants round the country; upon which they all rise, and with hounds trained for the purpose trace out his footsteps; so that it is almost impossible for him to secure a retreat. i have seen several instances of this at marseilles. at dunkirk, indeed, the flemish detest such practices; but the soldiers, with which the town abounds, will do anything to gain twenty crowns. at marseilles the peasants are cruel to the last degree. i have been informed for certain that a son brought back his own father, who had been a slave and endeavored to escape. the intendant, as the story goes, was so shocked at his undutifulness, that though he ordered him the twenty crowns for his fee, yet sentenced him to the galleys for life, where he remained chained to the same seat with his unhappy father. so true is it, that the natives of provence are in general perfidious, cruel and inhuman. "all along the quay, where the galleys lie, are ranged little stalls, with three or four slaves in each, exercising their trades to gain a trifling subsistence. their trades are nevertheless frequently little better than gross impositions on the credulity of the vulgar. some pretend to tell fortunes and take horoscopes; others profess magic and undertake to find stolen goods, though cunning often helps them out when the devil is not so obedient as to come at a call. "while some of the slaves are thus employed in the stalls along the quay, the major part are chained to their seats aboard, some few excepted who pay a halfpenny a day for being left without a chain. those can walk about the galley and traffic or do any other business which may procure them a wretched means of subsistence. the greatest part of them are sutlers. they sell tobacco (for in winter the slaves are permitted to smoke on board), brandy, etc. others make over their seats a little shop, where they expose for sale butter, cheese, vinegar, boiled tripe, all of which are sold to the crew at reasonable rates. a halfpenny worth of these, with the king's allowance of bread, make no uncomfortable meal. except these sutlers, all the rest are chained to their seats and employed in knitting stockings. perhaps it may be asked where the slaves find spun cotton for knitting. i answer thus: "many of the turks, especially those who have money, drive a trade in this commodity with the merchants of marseilles, who deal largely in stockings. the merchants give the turks what cotton they think proper, unmanufactured, and the turks pay them in this commodity manufactured into stockings. these turks deliver the cotton spun to the slaves, to be knit. they are indifferent as to the size of the stockings, as the slave is paid for knitting at so much a pound. so that the slave who received ten pounds of spun cotton is obliged to return the same weight of knit stockings, for which he is paid at a fixed price. there must be great care taken not to filch any of the cotton nor leave the stockings on a damp place to increase their weight; for if such practices are detected the slave is sure to undergo the bastinado. "at the approach of summer their employments are multiplied every day by new fatigues. all the ballast, which is composed of little stones about the size of pigeon's eggs, is taken out and handed up from the hold in little wicker baskets from one to the other, till they are heaped upon the quay opposite the galley. here two men are to pump water upon them till they become as clean as possible; and when dry they are again replaced. this, and cleaning the vessel, takes up seven or eight days' hard labor. then the galley must be put into proper order before it puts to sea. first, necessary precautions must be taken with respect to the cordage that it be strong and supple; and what new cordage may be necessary is to be supplied by the slaves by passing it round the galley. this takes up some days to effect. next the sails are to be visited, and if new ones are necessary, the comite cuts them out and the slaves sew them. they must also make new tents, mend the old in like manner, prepare the officers' beds, and everything else, which it would be impossible to particularise. this bustle continues till the beginning of april, when the court sends orders for putting to sea. "our armament begins by careening the galleys. this is done by turning one galley upon another so that its keel is quite out of the water. the whole keel is then rubbed with rendered tallow. this is perhaps one of the most fatiguing parts of a slave's employments. after this the galley is fitted up with her masts and rigging and supplied with artillery and ammunition. all this is performed by the slaves, who are sometimes so fatigued that the commander is obliged to wait in port a few days till the crew have time to refresh themselves." galleys as warships fell into disuse about the time that our protestant prisoners were released. the improvement in the sailing qualities of ships and the manifest advantages enjoyed by those skilfully handled, as were the english, gradually brought about the abandonment of the oar as a motive power, and the galleys are only remembered now as a glaring instance of the cruelties practised by rulers upon helpless creatures subjected to their tender mercies. chapter x the dawn of revolution state of france--bad harvests--universal famine--chronic disturbances--crime prevalent--cartouche--his organized gang--his capture, sentence and execution--pamphleteers and libelists in the bastile--lenglet-dufresnoy--roy--voltaire--his first consignment to the bastile--his release and departure for london--cellamare-alberoni conspiracy--mlle. de launay, afterwards madame de staal--remarkable escapes--latude and allégre. dark clouds hovered over france in the latter years of the reign of louis xiv: an empty exchequer drained by the cost of a protracted and disastrous war; the exodus of many thousands of the most industrious producers of wealth, flying from religious intolerance; a succession of bad harvests, causing universal famine and chronic disturbance. the people rose against the new edicts increasing taxes upon salt, upon tobacco and on stamped paper, and were repressed with harshness, shot down, thrown into prison or hanged. the genuine distress in the country was terrible. thousands of deaths from starvation occurred. hordes of wretched creatures wandered like wild beasts through the forest of orleans. a jesuit priest wrote from onzain that he preached to four or five skeletons, who barely existed on raw thistles, snails and the putrid remains of dead animals. in the vendomois, the heather was made into bread with an intermixture of sawdust, and soup was made with roots and the sap of trees. touraine, once the very garden of france, had become a wilderness. the hungry fought for a morsel of horse flesh, torn from some wretched beast which had died a natural death. four-fifths of the inhabitants of the villages had become public beggars. in one village of four hundred houses, the population had been reduced to three persons. never in the history of france had robberies been so numerous or so varied in character as during this period. paris was filled with the worst criminals and desperadoes. the provinces were overrun with them. the whole country was ravaged and terrorised. prominent among this dangerous fraternity, whose name was legion, is one name, that of cartouche, the most noted evil doer of his or indeed any time. others might have excelled him in originality, intelligence and daring. that which gave him especial distinction was his power of organisation, his nice choice of associates and the far-reaching extent of his nefarious plans. the devoted and obedient band he directed was recruited from all sources, and included numbers of outwardly respectable persons even drawn from the police and the french guards. he had agents at his disposal for all branches of his business; he had spies, his active assistants to deal the blows, his receivers, his locksmiths, his publicans with ready shelter and asylums of retreat. the forces controlled by cartouche were extraordinarily numerous, and the total was said to exceed a couple of thousand persons of both sexes. paris was dismayed and indignant when the operations grew and increased, and the police proved less able to check them. in the last months of and during , widespread terror prevailed. the thieves worked their will even in daylight. after dark the city belonged to them. the richest quarters were parcelled out among the various gangs, which broke into every house and summoned every wayfarer to stand and deliver. as a specimen of their proceedings,--a party visited the mansion, once the hotel of the maréchal de france and now occupied by the spanish ambassador, entered the ambassador's bedroom at night and rifled it, securing a rich booty--several collars of fine pearls, a brooch adorned with twenty-seven enormous diamonds, a large service of silver plate and the whole of the magnificent wardrobe of the lady of the house. this was only one of hundreds of such outrages, which were greatly encouraged by the diffusion of luxury among the upper classes, while the lower, as we have seen, were plunged in misery and starvation. this was the epoch of the speculations of the famous adventurer, law, who established the great bank of mississippi, and for the time made the fortunes of all who joined in his schemes and trafficked in his shares. money was almost a drug; people made so much and made it so fast that it was difficult to spend it. houses were furnished regardless of expense with gorgeous tapestry, cloth of gold hangings, beds of costly woods encrusted with jewels and ormolu, venetian glasses in ivory frames, candelabra of rock crystal. all this luxury played into the hands of cartouche and his followers, who worked on a system, recognising each other by strict signs and helping each other to seize and pass away articles of value from hand to hand along a whole street. strict order regulated the conduct of the thieves. many were forbidden to use unnecessary violence, killing was only permitted in self defence, the same person was never to be robbed twice, and some were entrusted with the password of the band as a safe conduct through a crowd. meanwhile the personality of cartouche was constantly concealed. some went so far as to declare that he was a myth and did not exist in the flesh. yet the suspicion grew into certainty that paris was at the mercy of a dangerous combination, directed by and centred in one astute and capable leader. thieves taken red-handed had revealed upon the rack the identity of cartouche and the government was adjured to effect his capture, but without result. so daring did he become that he openly showed himself at carnival time with five of his chief lieutenants and defied arrest. cartouche was a popular hero, for he pretended to succor the poor with the booty he took from the rich. he was a species of parisian fra diavolo, and many stories were invented in proof of his generosity, his sense of humor and his kindliness to those in distress. as a matter of fact he was a brutal, black-hearted villain, whose most prominent characteristic was his constant loyalty to his followers, by which he secured their unswerving attachment and by means of it worked with such remarkable success. to this day his name survives as the prototype of a criminal leader, directing the wide operations of a well organised gang of depredators that swept all before them. their exploits were at times marvellous, both in initiative and execution, and owed everything to cartouche. one among many stories told of him may be quoted as illustrating his ingenious methods. it was a robbery from the chief officer of the watch, from whom he stole a number of silver forks in broad daylight, and while actually engaged in conversation with his victim. cartouche arrived at this official's house in his carriage, accompanied by two tall flunkeys in gorgeous livery. he announced himself as an englishman, and was shown into the dining-room, where dinner was in progress. cartouche declined to take a seat, but contrived to lead the host to a corner of the room where he regaled him with a fabulous story of how an attack was being organised by cartouche on his house. the officer quite failed to recognise his visitor, and listened with profound attention. it was not until after cartouche had left that it was discovered that not a single fork or spoon remained upon his table, the silver having been adroitly abstracted by cartouche, who passed it unseen to his confederates--the disguised footmen who had accompanied him. many similar thefts were committed by cartouche and his gang, one victim being the archbishop of bourges. cartouche, by his cleverness in disguise, long escaped capture, and it was not until october th, , that he was finally caught and arrested. his capture naturally created an immense sensation in paris, and became the universal topic of conversation. cartouche had been traced to a wine shop, where he was found in bed by m. le blanc, an employé of the war ministry, who had with him forty picked soldiers and a number of policemen. orders had been issued to take cartouche, dead or alive. his capture came about through a patrol soldier who had recognised cartouche and acted as a spy on his movements. this man had been carried to the châtelet by pekom, major of the guards, and when threatened with the utmost rigor of the law confessed all he knew about the prince of thieves. the prisoner was taken first to the residence of m. le blanc and afterwards to the châtelet. it was found necessary to be extremely circumspect with cartouche on account of his violence, and his cell was closely guarded by four men. cartouche soon made an attempt to escape in company with a fellow occupant of his cell, who happened to be a mason. having made a hole in a sewer passage below, they dropped into the water, waded to the end of the gallery and finally reached the cellar of a greengrocer in the neighborhood thence they emerged into the shop, and were on the verge of escape, but the barking of the greengrocer's dog aroused the inmates of the house, who gave the alarm, and four policemen, who happened to be in the neighborhood, came to the rescue. cartouche was recognised, captured and again imprisoned, being now securely chained by his feet and hands. he was later transferred to the conciergerie and more closely watched than ever during his trial, which was concluded on november th, , when sentence was passed upon him and two accomplices. on the day following, cartouche was subjected to the torture "extraordinary" by means of the "boot," which he endured without yielding, and refused to make any confession. the scaffold, meanwhile was erected in the place de grève where the carpenters put up five wheels and two gibbets. directly the place of execution became known in paris, the streets were filled with large crowds of people and windows overlooking the grève were let at high prices. apparently the magistrates did not care to gratify the curiosity of the public, and before the afternoon four of the wheels and one of the gibbets were removed. towards four o'clock charles sanson, the executioner of the court of justice, went to the conciergerie, accompanied by his assistants, and sentence was read to the culprit, who was afterwards handed over to the secular arm. cartouche had displayed no emotion throughout the trial. he no doubt thought himself a hero, and wished to die amidst the applause of the people who had long feared him. when, however, the cortège started, cartouche began to grow uneasy and finally his stolid indifference completely gave way. on reaching the place de grève he noticed that only one wheel remained, and his agitation became intense. he repeatedly exclaimed, "_les frollants!_" "_les frollants!_" (the traitors), thinking his accomplices had been induced to confess, and had betrayed him. now his stoicism vanished, and he insisted upon being taken back to the hôtel de ville to confess his sins. on the following morning great crowds again assembled to witness the execution. the condemned man had lost his bravado, but still displayed strange firmness. his natural instincts appeared when he was placed on the _croix de st. andré_, and the dull thud of the iron bar descending extorted the exclamation "one" from him, as if it was his business to count the number of blows to be inflicted. although it had been stipulated at the passing of sentence that cartouche should be strangled after a certain number of strokes, the excitement of the clerk of the court caused him to withhold the fact from the executioner; and so great was the strength of cartouche that it required eleven blows to break him on the wheel. other executions speedily followed. scaffold and gibbet were kept busy till , and in the succeeding years five females whom cartouche had found useful as auxiliaries to his society were put upon their trial, sentenced and executed. many receivers of stolen goods were also brought to account before the long series of crimes that had defied the police was finally ended. in these days the prevailing discontent against the ruling authority found voice in the manner so often exhibited by a ground-down and severely repressed people. this was the age of the libellist and the pamphleteer, and the incessant proceedings against them brought in fresh harvests to the bastile. the class was comprehensive, and its two extremes ranged between a great literary genius such as voltaire and the petty penny-a-liner, who frequently found a lodging in the state prisons. of the last named category the most prolific was gatien sandras de courtilz, who produced about a hundred volumes of satirical, political pamphlets and fictitious histories. such a man was for ever within four walls or in hiding beyond the frontier. leniency was wasted on him. upon a petition to the chancellor pontchartrain, an inquiry was instituted into the reasons of his imprisonment with the result that he was released. within two years he was found again distributing libels, and was again thrown into the bastile, this time to remain there for ten years. a curious specimen of this class distinguished himself in the following reign,--a certain abbé nicolas lenglet-dufresnoy, who was for ever in and out of the bastile. he is spoken of as a man of wit and learning, an indefatigable worker, a fearless writer, but of very indifferent honesty, venial to the last degree, to be bought at any time and ready for any baseness, even to espionage. isaac d'israeli mentions him in his "curiosities of literature" and in terms of praise as a man of much erudition with a fluent, caustic pen and daring opinions. he earned a calm contempt for the rubs of evil fortune, and when a fresh arrest was decreed against him, he accepted it with a light heart. he well knew his way to the bastile. at the sight of the officer, who came to escort him to prison, he would pick up his night-cap and his snuff-box, gather his papers together and take up his quarter in the old familiar cell where he had already done so much good work. he suffered seven distinct imprisonments in the bastile between and , and saw also the inside of the prisons of vincennes, strasbourg and for-l'Évêque. at his last release he signed the following declaration: "being at liberty, i promise, in conformity with the orders of the king, to say nothing of the prisoners or other things concerning the bastile, which may have come to my knowledge. in addition to this i acknowledge that all my good silver and papers and effects which i brought to the said castle have been restored to me." lenglet rendered one important service to the state, the discovery of the cellamare-alberoni conspiracy, but he would not proceed in the affair until he had been assured that no lives should be sacrificed. he was a painstaking writer, and kept one manuscript by him for fifty-five years; it was, however, a work on visions and apparitions, and he was a little afraid of publishing it to the world. his end came by a strange accident. he fell into the fire as he slept over a "modern book" and was burned to death. he was then eighty years of age. among the smaller people, scribblers and second rate litterateurs, who were consigned to the bastile, was roy, an impudent rascal, who lampooned royalty and royal things, and impertinently attacked the spanish ambassador. all paris was moved by his arrest, his papers were sealed and he was treated as of more importance than he deserved. after four months' detention he was released, and banished from paris to a distance of ninety leagues. he soon returned and published a defamatory ode on the french generals. general de moncrieff met roy in the streets, boxed his ears and kicked him, but although the poet wore his sword he did not defend himself. roy raged furiously against the academy which would not elect him a member and wrote a stinging epigram when the comte de clermont of the blood royal was chosen. the comte paid a ruffian to give him a thrashing, which was so severe that the poet, now eighty years of age, succumbed to the punishment. another literary prisoner of more pretensions was the abbé prevost, author of the well known _manon lescaut_, the only work which has survived out of the books he wrote in all. he was a jesuit, who joined the order of the benedictines, but fled from their house in st.-germain-des-prés, and went about paris freely. he was arrested by the police and sent back to his monastery. for seven years he remained quiet, but when at length he proposed to publish new works in order "to impose silence upon the malignity of his enemies," a _lettre de cachet_ was issued to commit him to the bastile. the prince de conti came to his help, and gave him money with which he escaped to brussels. voltaire's first connection with the bastile was in , when he was only twenty-two years of age, a law student in paris. he had already attracted attention by his insolent lampoons on the regent and the government, and had been banished from paris for writing an epigram styled the _bourbier_, "the mud heap." this new offence was a scandalous latin inscription and some scathing verses which, according to a french writer, would have been punished under louis xiv with imprisonment for life. he took his arrest very lightly. the officer who escorted him to the bastile reports: "arouet (voltaire) joked a good deal on the road, saying he did not think any business was done on feast days, that he did not mind going to the bastile but hoped he would be allowed to continue taking his milk, and that if offered immediate release he would beg to remain a fortnight longer." his detention ran on from week to week into eleven months, which he employed in writing two of his masterpieces, _la henriade_ and _oedipe_, the latter his first play to have a real success when put upon the stage. voltaire, when released, was ordered to reside at chatenay with his father, who had a country house there, and offered to be responsible for him. the charge was onerous, and the young man was sent to holland to be attached to the french ambassador, but he soon drifted back to paris, where he remained in obscurity for seven years. now he came to the front as the victim of a personal attack by bravos in the pay of the chevalier de rohan, by whom he was severely caned. the poet had offended the nobility by his insolent airs. voltaire appealed for protection, and orders were issued to arrest de rohan's hirelings if they could be found. the poet sought satisfaction against the moving spirit, and having gone for a time into the country to practise fencing, returned to paris and challenged the chevalier, when he met him in the dressing-room of the famous actress, adrienne lecouvreur. the duel was arranged, but the de rohan family interposed and secured voltaire's committal to the bastile, when he wrote to the minister herault: "in the deplorable condition in which i find myself i implore your kindness. i have been sent to the bastile for having pursued with too much haste and ardor the established laws of honor. i was set upon publicly by six persons, and i am punished for the crime of another because i did not wish to hand him over to justice. i beg you to use your credit to obtain leave for me to go to england." leave was granted, accompanied with release, and in due course voltaire arrived in london, where he remained three years. this period tended greatly to develop his mental qualities. "he went a discontented poet, he left england a philosopher, the friend of humanity," says victor cousin. he became a leader among the men who, as macaulay puts it, "with all their faults, moral and intellectual, sincerely and earnestly desired the improvement of the condition of the human race, whose blood boiled at the sight of cruelty and injustice, who made manful war with every faculty they possessed on what they considered as abuses, and who on many signal occasions placed themselves gallantly between the powerful and the oppressed." voltaire was presently permitted to return to paris. minister maurepas wrote him: "you may go to paris when you like and even reside there.... i am persuaded you will keep a watch upon yourself at paris, and do nothing calculated to get you into trouble." the warning was futile. within four years he was once more arrested and lodged in the castle prison of auxonne, with strict orders that he was never to leave the interior of the castle. his offences were blasphemy and a bitter attack upon the stuarts. he had, moreover, published his "lettres philosophiques," and a new _lettre de cachet_ was to be issued, but he was given time and opportunity to make his escape into germany. the work was, however, burned by the public executioner, and the wretched publisher sent to the bastile, after the confiscation of all his stock, which meant total ruin. prison history is not further concerned with voltaire. his friendship with frederick the great, his long retreat in switzerland and the fierce criticisms and manifestoes he fulminated from ferney must be sought elsewhere. reference has been made in a previous page to the cellamare-alberoni conspiracy first detected by abbé lenglet, which had for object the removal of the duc d'orleans from the regency and the convocation of the states general, the first organised effort towards more popular government in france. a secondary aim was a coalition of the powers to re-establish the stuart dynasty in england. nothing came of the conspiracy, but the arrest of those implicated. among them were the duc and duchesse de maine. a certain mdlle. de launay, who was a waiting woman of the duchess, staunchly refused to betray her mistress and was imprisoned in the bastile. out of this grew a rather romantic love story. the king's lieutenant of the bastile, a certain m. de maison rougé, an old cavalry officer, was greatly attracted by mdlle. de launay. "he conceived the greatest attachment that any one ever had for me," she writes in her amusing memoirs. "he was the only man by whom i think i was ever really loved." his devotion led him to grant many privileges to his prisoner, above all in allowing her to open a correspondence with another inmate of the bastile, the chevalier de ménil,--also concerned in the cellamare conspiracy,--with whom she had a slight acquaintance. m. de maison rougé went so far as to allow them to meet on several occasions, and, much to his chagrin, the pair fell desperately in love with each other. mdlle. de launay expected to marry the chevalier after their release, but on getting out of the bastile she found herself forgotten. some fifteen years later she became the wife of baron de staal, an ex-officer of the swiss guards under the duc de maine. she must not be confused, of course, with the madame de staël of napoleon's time. while some prisoners like masers latude--of whom more directly--followed their natural bent in making the most daring and desperate attempts to escape from the bastile, there were one or two cases in which men showed a strong reluctance to leave it. one of the victims of the cellamare conspiracy was an ex-cavalry officer, the marquis de bonrepas, who had been shut up for four or five years. he found friends abroad who sought to obtain his release. but he received the offer of liberty with a very bad grace, declaring his preference for the prison. he was a veteran soldier, old, poor and without friends, and he was only persuaded to leave the bastile on the promise of a home at the invalides with a pension. a doctor of the university, françois du boulay, was sent to the bastile in and remained there forty-seven years. then, when louis xvi ascended the throne, search was made through the registers for meet subjects for the king's pardon, and du boulay was one of those recommended for discharge. he went out and deeply regretted it. he was quite friendless and could find no trace of any member of his family. his house had been pulled down and a public edifice built upon the site. he had been quite happy in the bastile, and begged that he might return there. his prayer was refused, however, and he withdrew altogether from the world and passed the rest of his days in complete solitude. the name of latude, mentioned above, is classed in prison history with those of baron trenck, sack, shepherd, casanova and "punch" howard as the heroes of the most remarkable prison escapes on record. he is best known as latude, but he had many aliases,--jean henri, danry, dawyer, gedor; and his offence was that of seeking to curry favor with madame de pompadour by falsely informing her that her life was in danger. he warned her carefully to avoid opening a box that would reach her through the post, which, in fact, was sent by himself. it enclosed a perfectly harmless white powder. then having despatched it he went in person and on foot to versailles expecting to be handsomely rewarded for saving the life of the king's favorite. unfortunately for latude the innocuous nature of the powder was disbelieved, and the mere possibility of foul play sufficed to raise suspicion. both louis xv and his mistress shivered at the very whisper of poison. the police promptly laid hands upon the author of this sorry trick, and he was committed to vincennes to begin an imprisonment which lasted, with short intervals of freedom after his escapes, for thirty-four years. latude was well treated and was visited by the king's doctor, as it was thought his mind was deranged. he was, however, keen witted enough to snatch at the first chance of escape. when at exercise in the garden, apparently alone, a dog ran against the door and it fell open. latude instantly stepped through and got into the open fields, through which he ran for his life, and made his way into paris, to the house of a friend, one duval. thence he wrote a letter to madame de pompadour beseeching her forgiveness and imprudently giving his address. the authorities at once laid hands upon him, and after being no more than twenty-four hours at large he was once more imprisoned, this time in the bastile. he now found a prison companion with whom his fortunes were to be closely allied, one allégre, who had been accused of the same crime, that of attempting to poison madame de pompadour. allégre, who in the end died in a lunatic asylum, was a violent, unmanageable and hardly responsible prisoner. he always denied the charges brought against him, as did also latude. the two joined forces in giving trouble and breaking the prison rules. they were caught in clandestine conversation with others, from floor to floor in the bazinière tower, and in passing tobacco to each other. latude addressed an indignant appeal against his treatment to the authorities, written upon linen with his blood. he complained of his food, demanded fish for breakfast, declaring he could not eat eggs, artichokes or spinach, and would pay out of his own pocket for different food. he became enraged when these requests were refused. when fault was found with his misuse of the linen, he asked for paper and more shirts. he got the former, and began a fresh petition of interminable length and, when the governor grew weary of waiting for it, threw it into the fire. as the chamber occupied by latude and allégre was in the basement and liable to be flooded by the inundation of the seine, it became necessary to remove them to another. this was more favorable to escape, and to this they now turned their attention with the strange ingenuity and unwearied patience so often displayed by captives. the reason for latude's demand for more shirts was now explained. for eighteen months they worked unceasingly, unravelling the linen and with the thread manufacturing a rope ladder three hundred feet in length. the rungs were of wood made from the fuel supplied for their fire daily. these articles were carefully concealed under the floor. when all was ready, latude took stock of their productions. there was , feet of linen rope and rungs of wood, the rungs encased in stuff from the linings of their dressing gowns, coats and waistcoats to muffle the noise of the ladder as it swung against the wall of the tower. the actual escape was effected by climbing up the interior of the chimney of their room, having first dislodged the chimney bars, which they took with them. on reaching the roof, they lowered the ladder and went down it into the ditch, which was fourteen feet deep in water. notwithstanding this, they attacked the outer wall with their chimney bars of iron, and after eight hours' incessant labor broke an opening through its ponderous thickness and despite the fear of interruption from patrols passing outside with flaming torches. both fugitives when at large hastened to leave paris. allégre got as far as brussels, whence he wrote an abusive letter to madame de pompadour, and at the instance of the french king was taken into custody and lodged in the prison at lille, thence escorted to the frontier and so back to the bastile. latude took refuge, but found no safety, in amsterdam. his whereabouts was betrayed by letters to his mother which were intercepted. he, too, was reinstalled in the bastile--after four brief months of liberty. latude's leadership in the escapades seems to have been accepted as proved, and he was now more harshly treated than his associate, allégre. he lay in his cell upon straw in the very lowest depths of the castle, ironed, with no blankets and suffering much from the bitter cold. for three years and more he endured this, and was only removed when the seine once more overflowed and he was all but drowned in his cell. the severity shown him was to be traced to the trouble his escape had brought upon his gaolers, who were reprimanded, fined and otherwise punished. the only alleviation of his misery was the permission to remove half his irons, those of his hands or feet. as the years passed, this harsh treatment was somewhat mitigated, but the effect on latude was only to make him more defiant and irreconcilable. he found many ways of annoying the authorities. he broke constantly into noisy disturbances. "this prisoner," it is reported, "has a voice of thunder, which can be heard all through and outside the bastile. it is impossible for me to repeat his insults as i have too much respect for the persons he mentioned." not strangely, his temper was irritable. he swore over his dinner because it was not served with a larded fowl. he was dissatisfied with the clothes provided for him, and resented complying with the rules in force. when a tailor was ordered to make him a dressing-gown, a jacket and breeches, he wished to be measured, whereas, according to the rules of the bastile, the tailor cut out new clothes on the pattern of the old. the conduct of allégre (who was no doubt mad) was worse. he was dangerous and tried to stab his warders. then he adopted the well known prison trick of "breaking out," of smashing everything breakable in his cell, all pottery, glass, tearing up his mattress and throwing the pieces out of the window, destroying his shirts, "which cost the king twenty francs apiece," and his pocket handkerchiefs, which were of cambric. he had nothing on his body but his waistcoat and his breeches. "if he be not mad he plays the madman very well," writes the governor, and again: "this prisoner would wear out the patience of the most virtuous capuchin." the medical opinion on his state was not definite, but he was removed to charenton, the famous lunatic asylum, and confined there in a new cage. fifteen years had passed since his first arrest. latude continued to forward petitions for his release, and always got the same answer, that the proper moment for it had not yet arrived. but he was once more transferred to vincennes and again managed to escape. taking advantage of the evident laxity of supervision he slipped away in a fog. he could not keep quiet but wrote to m. de sartine, now the lieutenant of police, offering terms. if he were paid , francs for the plans and public papers he had drawn up, he was willing to forget and forgive the cruelties practised upon him. failing to receive a reply, he went in person to fontainebleau to press his case upon the duc de choiseul, who forthwith ordered him back into imprisonment. after three weeks of freedom he found himself again inside vincennes. as time passed, he also exhibited signs of madness, and was at last also transferred for a time to charenton, from which he was finally released in . he went out on the th of june with orders to reside at montagnac, and in little more than a month was again in trouble for writing his memoirs a little too openly. he passed through the little châtelet and thence to bicêtre, the semi prison-asylum, and stayed there generally in an underground cell and on the most meagre diet for seven more years, and was then interned once more at montagnac. the latest official account of him was in paris, living on a pension of francs a year from the treasury; but a public subscription was got up for him, and after the revolution, in , the heirs of madame de pompadour were sentenced to allow him an income of , francs a year. only a part of this was paid, but they gave him a small farm on which he lived comfortably until his death at eighty years of age. chapter xi last days of the bastile closing days of the bastile--latest inmates--lally-tollendal suffers death for alleged treason--damiens attempts life of louis xv--sentence and execution--dumouriez in the bastile--linguet and his experiences--marquis de sade--cagliostro--the revolution--attack upon the bastile--weakly defended--garrison massacred--de launay, the governor, murdered--demolition of the bastile--last days of vincennes--the temple prison survives in part--the last home of louis xvi--prisons in great request through revolutionary epoch--treatment in them more horrible than in old days--unlimited atrocities. the days of the bastile's existence were numbered. it had not long to stand, but it maintained its reputation to the last. philosophers, princes, libellous poets, unfortunate commanders and traitors to the state rubbed shoulders within. de la chalotais, the attorney-general of brittany, was committed in connection with a rising in his province and disputes with its governor, the duc d'aiguillon; but chiefly for his hostility to the jesuits,--a circumstance which culminated in the expulsion of the society from france and many of the catholic countries of europe. the prince of courland, charles ernest, an undeniable swindler and adventurer, was arrested and sent to the bastile on a charge of forgery and detained there for three months. marmontel, the historian, was committed, accused of writing a satire against the duc d'aumont, and has preserved an interesting account of his reception in the castle. "the governor, after reading my letters," writes the historian, "allowed me to retain my valet.... i was ushered into a vast chamber, in which were two beds, two baths, a chest of drawers and three straw chairs. it was cold, but the gaoler made a good fire and brought plenty of wood. at the same time he gave me pen and ink and paper on condition of giving an account of how each sheet was employed. i found fault with my bed; said the mattresses were bad and the blankets unclean. all was instantly changed.... the bastile library was placed at my disposal, but i had brought my own books." the dinner brought him was excellent. it was a _maigre_ day and the soup was of white beans and very fresh butter, a dish of salt cod for second service, also very good. this proved to be the servant's dinner and a second came in for marmontel himself, served on china and fine linen with forks and spoons in silver, and was _gras_, consisting of an excellent soup, a succulent slice of beef, the fat leg of a boiled capon, a dish of artichokes, some spinach, a fine pear, some grapes, a bottle of old burgundy and a cup of fragrant coffee. after all this he was still offered a chicken for supper. "on the whole," says marmontel, "i found that one dined very well in prison." his stay in the bastile was for a few days only, as the libel was the work of another, whom marmontel would not betray. scant favor was shown to french officers of those days who were unsuccessful in war. one dutreil was accused of misconduct in the defence of martinique, and after trial by court martial was sentenced to military disgrace, to have his sword broken, the cross of st. louis torn from his breast, and to be imprisoned for life. he came first to the bastile with two other officers and passed on thence to the isle of sainte marguerite to occupy the same prison as the whilom "man with the iron mask." the harsh measure meted out to french officers who failed is much commented upon by the french historians. too often disaster was directly traceable to neglect to provide means and the lack of proper support. it was seen already in india, and dupleix bitterly complained that the government gave him no assistance, kept him ill supplied with money and sent out the most indifferent troops. a very prominent and very flagrant case was that of count lally-tollendal, who was denounced as having betrayed the interests of france, and caused the loss of her indian possessions. he was of irish extraction, a hot-headed, hare-brained irishman, whose military skill was unequal to a difficult campaign. his had been an eventful career. he became a soldier in his tender years, and held a commission in dillon's irish regiment when no more than twelve and was engaged in the siege of barcelona. he rose quickly to the command of a regiment, and was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-general at the early age of thirty-seven. at one time he conceived a plan for landing a body of ten thousand on the english coast to support the rights of the pretender, and spent a large portion of his fortune in the carrying out of the scheme, which, of course, came to nothing. during his career as commander in india, the count committed very grievous blunders, and lacked the tact and diplomacy which had brought success to his great predecessor, dupleix. count lally began by committing fearful excesses, and showed his contempt for the native religion by desecrating the most honored temples and sanctuaries. he triumphed over the english for a time, and drove them back into the heart of the country, whence they turned and attacked afresh; and having delayed his retreat he was defeated with considerable loss. other disasters speedily followed until he was eventually surrounded and besieged in pondichéry, which he defended and held with desperate bravery, but was forced at last to surrender. lally became a prisoner of war at the fall of pondichéry and was sent to england. he heard there of the storm of abuse that was vented upon him in paris, and he asked permission to go over and stand his trial. he was released on parole for the purpose, and arrived in his native country, taking with him "his head and his innocence," as he wrote to the duc de choiseul. a man of fierce temper and overbearing demeanor, he had made numerous enemies and incurred the bitter jealousy of his colleague, the naval commander in indian waters, comte d'ache. when brought to trial after a long and wearisome detention for fifteen months in the bastile, the long list of charges against him contained many that were pitiful and contemptible. when at last arraigned, the trial lingered on for more than a year and a half, when fresh evidence was found among the papers of father lavuar, the superior of the jesuits in pondichéry. the priest had gone to paris to claim a pension from the government, but died suddenly, and it was found that he had left a large amount of gold and a number of documents compromising lally-tollendal's character and accusing him of treason and malversation. this testimony was accepted and led to his conviction and sentence to death. his demeanor during his trial won him a certain sympathy with the crowd. the vehemence of his denials of guilt and his violent temper impressed people with an idea that he was a much wronged man. in england he had many apologists and supporters. it was said on his behalf that he went to india a perfect stranger to the country, he made native allies who proved false to him, his troops mutinied, he had no horsemen; yet he took ten fortresses, won nine battles and made a good fight until he was out-numbered, and all through was badly seconded by his own officers. voltaire's opinion of him is worth quoting: "i am persuaded that lally was no traitor. i believe him to have been an odious man, a bad man, if you will, who deserved to be killed by any one except the executioner." again, "it is very certain that his bad temper brought him to the scaffold. he is the only man who ever lost his head for being brutal." the sentence of the parliament was death by decapitation, and lally was sent from the bastile to the conciergerie to hear his sentence. great precautions were taken along the road as it was feared the populace might make some demonstration in his favor. he resented being compelled to kneel to hear sentence, and was greatly incensed when told he must die. "but what have i done?" he vainly protested. the sentence produced a great effect upon him, but he regained his self-possession on returning to the bastile. many persons interceded on his behalf, but the king remained unmoved, although public opinion remained the same and disapproved of his execution. the authorities, however, feared that the people might be inclined to rescue him, and therefore ordered him to be gagged while being led to the place de grève. the count strongly resisted this mode of treatment, but the gag was placed in his mouth, and he was otherwise held in check. just before the execution took place he ordered the headsman, young sanson, to remove a handsome vest he (lally) was wearing, composed of the golden tissue made only in india, and directed that it should be presented to the executioner's father, who was also present. the first blow from the younger was not successful, so the final act was performed by old sanson, and was greeted with a cry of horror from the assembled crowds. a hundred and fifty years had elapsed since ravaillac had suffered for the assassination of henri quatre and had brought no diminution of the savage cruelty of the french criminal law. in the extreme penalty was inflicted upon another culprit who had dared to lift his hand against the cowardly voluptuary who occupied the throne, and in precisely the same bloodthirsty and abominable fashion. ravaillac killed his victim; damiens did no more than prick his man with the small blade of a horn handled penknife. louis xv was so frightened at this pitiful wound that he "trembled between the sheets," under the strong belief that the weapon had been poisoned. a confessor was instantly summoned, and absolution was pronounced after the king had detailed his sins. this absolution was repeated aloud every minute of the night. what had actually happened? it was an intensely cold night, the th of january, , and the king, clad in his furs, came down-stairs at versailles to enter his carriage. a crowd of courtiers, footmen and an escort surrounded the doorway as the king emerged on the arm of his grand equerry. suddenly the king exclaimed, "some one has struck me and pricked me with a pin. that man there!" and as he spoke he inserted his hand beneath his fur coat, to find it smeared with blood when he withdrew it. "that is certainly the man," added the king, pointing to damiens. "let him be arrested, but do not kill him." in the wild confusion that now arose, damiens might easily have slunk away, but he stood his ground and was seized by the guards. immediate vengeance was wreaked by his removal to the nearest guard-house, where he was put to the torture by the application of red-hot irons to his legs, but he would say no more than that he had not desired to kill the king, but only to give him a salutary warning. deep anxiety prevailed when this trifling attempt upon the life of a worthless, self-indulgent monarch was known through the country. the story was exaggerated absurdly. "this fearful attempt is of a nature to cause so just an alarm that i do not lose a moment," writes one of the ministers, "in diminishing your apprehension and acquainting you with the facts of this terrible event." after "the terrible accident," the king was bled twice. "the wound is healthy, there is no fever, and he is perfectly tranquil, and would be inclined to sleep, were it not that the wound is on the right side, that on which his majesty is accustomed to lie," continued the minister. the provinces were greatly excited. "i found the whole city of bordeaux in the greatest consternation," writes the lieutenant-governor of guienne. at aix the courier was expected with breathless impatience, and good news was received with shouts of joy and clapping of hands. the delight at marseilles when good news came was equal to the terror inspired by the first evil report. damiens was taken straight to the conciergerie, where the legal machinery could be best set in motion for his trial and the preliminary torture. his conviction was a foregone conclusion, and his sentence in all its hideous particulars was on exactly the same lines as that of ravaillac. he was to be subjected to the question, ordinary and extraordinary, to make the _amende honorable_, to have his right arm severed, his flesh torn off his body with red-hot pincers, and finally, while still alive, to be torn asunder limb from limb by teams of horses in the place de grève. the whole of the details are preserved in contemporary accounts; but having been described in the case of ravaillac, they are too brutal and revolting for a second reproduction. the motive by which damiens was led to this attempted crime is generally attributed to his disapproval of the king's licentious life. louis so thought it, and for a time was disposed to mend his ways, to give up the infamous _parc aux cerfs_ where he kept a harem, and to break with madame de pompadour. but the favorite was not dismissed from the apartments she occupied upon the top floor of the palace at versailles, and the king still saw her from day to day. her anxiety must have been great while the king's wound was still uncured, for she feigned illness and was constantly bled; but she soon recovered her health when she was reinstalled as the king's mistress. the occasion had been improved by the jesuits, for the king when sick was very much in the hands of the priests; but de pompadour triumphed, and the matter ended in their serious discomfiture and expulsion from france. although damiens did not himself see the interior of the bastile, many persons suspected of collusion in the crime were committed to it; some supposed to be accomplices, others as apologists or as authors of lampoons and satirical verses. among the prisoners were damiens's nearest relations, his wife and daughters, his father, mother, nieces, several abbés, ladies of mature years and young children. the detention of some of these was brief enough, but one or two were imprisoned for twenty odd years. the dauphin was charged with complicity, but there was no more proof of it than that he was little at court, and was known to sympathise with the jesuits. as a matter of fact no one was shown to be privy to the attempt. damiens, in spite of the most horrible tortures, never betrayed a soul. a story told by jesse in his "memoirs of george selwyn" may be related here to give a ray of relief to this sombre picture. the eccentric englishman was much addicted to the practice of attending executions. he went over to paris on purpose to see damiens done to death, and on the day mixed with the crowd. he was dressed in a plain undress suit and a plain bob wig, and "a french nobleman observing the deep interest he took in the scene, and imagining from the plainness of his attire that he must be a person in the humbler walks of life, resolved that he must infallibly be a hangman. '_eh bien, monsieur_,' said he, '_etes-vous arrive pour voir ce spectacle?_' '_oui, monsieur._' '_vous etes bourreau?_' '_non, monsieur_,' replied selwyn, '_je n'ai pas cet honneur, je ne suis qu'un amateur._'" among the latest records affording a graphic impression of the interior of the bastile is that of the french officer dumouriez, who afterwards became one of the first, and for a time, most successful of the revolutionary generals, who won the battles of fleurus and jernappes and repelled the german invasion of the argonne in the west of france. dumouriez fled to england to save his head, and was the ancestor of one also famous, but in the peaceful fields of literature and art. george du maurier, whose name is held in high esteem amongst all english speaking races, traced his family direct to the french _emigré_, who lived long and died in london. it is a little curious that the eminent caricaturist who long brightened the pages of "punch" the author of "trilby," should be connected with the french monarchy and the ancient castle of evil memory. the elder dumouriez was imprisoned as the outcome of his connection with the devious diplomacy of his time. he had been despatched on a secret mission to sweden on behalf of the king, but the french minister of foreign affairs suspected foul play. the movements of dumouriez were watched, and he was followed by spies as far as hamburg, where he was arrested and brought back to france straight to the bastile. he gives a minute account of his reception. first he was deprived of all his possessions, his money, knife and shoe buckles, lest he should commit suicide by swallowing them. when he called for a chicken for his supper, he was told it was a fast day, friday, but he indignantly replied that the major of the bastile was not the keeper of his conscience if of his person, and the chicken was provided. then he was ushered into his prison apartment, and found it barely furnished with a wooden table, a straw bottomed chair, a jar of water and a dirty bed. he slept well, but was aroused early to go before the governor, the comte de jumilhac, who gave him a very courteous and cordial welcome, but, after denying him books and writing materials, ended by lending him several novels, which he begged him to hide. the governor continued to treat him as a friend and companion rather than a prisoner. "he came and saw me every morning and gossiped over society's doings. he went so far as to send me lemons and sugar to make lemonade, a small quantity of coffee, foreign wine and every day a dish from his own table, when he dined at home," he writes. no fault could be found with the daily fare in the bastile. the quality was usually good and the supply abundant. "there were always five dishes for dinner and three for supper without counting the dessert." besides, dumouriez had his own servants, and one of them, the _valet de chambre_, was an excellent cook. after a week of solitary confinement, which he had relieved by entering into communication with a neighbor, the captain of a piedmontese regiment, who had been confined in the bastile for twenty-two years for writing a song about madame de pompadour, which had been hawked all over paris, dumouriez was removed to another chamber which he describes as "a very fine apartment with a good fireplace." near the fireplace was an excellent bed, which had been slept in by many notable inmates of the prison. the major of the bastile said it was the finest room in the castle, but it had not always brought good luck. most of its previous inhabitants, the comte de st. pol, the maréchal de biron, the chevalier de rohan and the count de lally-tollendal, ended their days upon the scaffold. significant traces of them were to be found in the sad inscriptions upon the walls. labourdonnais had inscribed some "touching reflections;" lally had written some remarks in english; and la chalotais some paraphrases of the psalms. dumouriez's immediate predecessor had been a young priest, who had been forced into taking orders and tried to evade his vows, inherit an estate and marry the girl of his choice. he was committed to the bastile, but was presently released on writing an impassioned appeal for liberty. dumouriez was detained only six months in the bastile and was then transferred to caen in normandy, where he was handsomely lodged, and had a garden to walk in. the death of louis xv and the complete change of government upon the accession of the ill-fated louis xvi immediately released him. he came to court and was told at a public reception that the new king profoundly regretted the harshness with which he had been treated, and that the state would make him amends by promotion and employment. with louis xvi began a milder and more humane régime, too late, however, to stave off the swiftly gathering storm that was soon to shake and shatter france. the king desired to retain no more state prisoners arbitrarily, and sent a minister to visit the prisons of the bastile, vincennes and bicêtre to inquire personally into the cases of all, and to liberate any against whom there was no definite charge. he proposed that there should be no more _lettres de cachet_, and the bastile became gradually less and less filled. the committals were chiefly of offenders against the common law, thieves and swindlers; but a large contingent of pamphleteers and their publishers were lodged within its walls, and one ancient prisoner still lingered to die there after a confinement of twenty-seven years. this was bertin, marquis de frateau, guilty of writing lampoons on madame de pompadour, and originally confined at the request of his own family. a man who made more mark was linguet, whose "memoirs," containing a bitter indictment of the bastile, from personal experience, were widely read both in england and france. they were actually written in london, to which he fled after imprisonment, and are now held to be mendacious and untrustworthy. linguet had led a strangely varied life. he had tried many lines--had been in turn poet, historian, soldier, lawyer, journalist. he wrote parodies for the opera comique and pamphlets in favor of the jesuits. such a man was certain to find himself in the bastile. he spent a couple of years there, and the book he subsequently wrote was full of the most extravagant and easily refuted lies. yet there is reason to believe that his statements did much to inflame the popular mind and increase the fierce hatred of the old prison, which ere long was to lead to its demolition. the bastile also received that infamous creature, most justly imprisoned, the marquis de sade, whose name has been synonymous with the grossest immorality and is now best known to medical jurisprudence. beyond doubt he was a lunatic, a man of diseased and deranged mind, who was more properly relegated to charenton, where he died. he was at large during the revolutionary period and survived it, but dared to offer some of his most loathsome books to napoleon, who when first consul wrote an order with his own hand for the return of the marquis to charenton as a dangerous and incurable madman. one of the last celebrities confined in the bastile was the cardinal de rohan, a grandee of the church and the holder of many dignities, who was involved in that famous fraud, dear to dramatists and romance writers, the affair of the diamond necklace. his confederates, some of whom shared his captivity, were the well known italian adventurer and arch impostor, who went by the name of cagliostro, who played upon the credulity of the gullible public in many countries as a latter day magician, and the two women, madame de la motte-valois, who devised the fraud of impersonating the queen before de rohan, and mdlle. d'oliva, who impersonated her. we come now to the eventful year , when the waters were closing over the bastile, and it was to sink under the flood and turmoil of popular passion in the first stormy phase of the french revolution. paris was in the throes of agitation and disturbance, the streets filled with thousands of reckless ruffians, who terrorised the capital, breaking into and plundering the shops, the convents, even the royal _garde-meuble_, the repository of the crown jewels; and committing the most violent excesses. a large force of troops was collected in and about paris, more than sufficient to maintain order had the spirit to do so been present in the leaders or had they been backed up by authority. but the king and his government were too weak to act with decision, and, as the disorders increased, it was seen that no reliance could be placed upon the french guards, who were ripe for revolt and determined to fraternise with the people. the people clamored for arms and ammunition, and seized upon a large quantity of powder as it was being removed secretly from paris. fifty thousand pikes were turned out in thirty-six hours. two revolutionary committees directed affairs, and it was mooted at one of them whether an attack should not be made upon the bastile. the more cautious minds demurred. it would be neither useful nor feasible to gain possession of the ancient fortress which, with its guns mounted and its impregnable walls, might surely make a vigorous resistance. at last it was decreed to approach the governor of the bastile with peaceful overtures, asking him to receive a garrison of parisian citizen-militia within the place as a measure of public safety. m. de launay, the veteran governor, civilly received the deputations with this proposal, but although inwardly uneasy would make no concessions. he awaited orders which never arrived, but was stoutly determined to do his duty and remain staunch to the king. his position was indeed precarious. the garrison consisted of a handful of troops, chiefly old pensioners. the guns on the ramparts were of obsolete pattern, mostly mounted on marine carriages, and they could not be depressed or fired except into the air. moreover the powder magazine was full, for the whole stock of powder had been removed from the arsenal, where it was exposed to attack and seizure, and it was now lodged in the cellars of the bastile. but the governor had done his best to strengthen his defence. windows had been barred, and exposed loopholes closed. a bastion for flanking fire had been thrown out from the garden wall. great quantities of paving stones had been carried up to the tops of the towers, and steps taken to pull down the chimney pots,--the whole for use as missiles to be discharged on the heads of the besiegers. nevertheless the place could not hold out long, for it was almost entirely unprovisioned. the attack upon the bastile appears to have been precipitated by a cowardly report spread that the guns of the castle were ranged upon the city and that a bombardment was threatened. a deputation was forthwith despatched to the governor, insisting the direction of the guns be changed and inviting him to surrender. m. de launay replied that the guns pointed as they had done from time immemorial, and that he could not remove them without the king's order, but he would withdraw them from the embrasure. this deputation retired satisfied, assuring the governor that he need expect no attack, and went back to the hotel de ville. but presently an armed mob arrived, shouting that they must have the bastile. they were politely requested to return, but some turbulent spirits insisted that the drawbridges should be lowered, and when the first was down, advanced across them, although repeatedly warned that unless they halted, the garrison would open fire. but the people, warmed with their success, pressed on, and a sharp musketry duet began, and put the assailants to flight in great disorder, but did not send them far. presently they came on again toward the second drawbridge and prepared to break in by it, when firing was resumed and many casualties ensued. at half past four o'clock in the afternoon three carts laden with straw were sent forward and used to set fire to the outbuildings, the guard-house, the governor's residence and the kitchens. a number of french grenadiers with three hundred citizens now advanced and made good their entrance; but the drawbridge was let down behind them and a cry of treachery arose. fire was opened on both sides and a sharp combat ensued. the issue might have been different had the defence been better organised, but the garrison was small (barely a hundred men), was short of ammunition, had not taken food for forty-eight hours, and could make no use of the artillery. at five o'clock m. de launay, hopeless of success, desired to blow up the powder magazine, urging that voluntary death was preferable to massacre by the infuriated people. the vote of the majority was against this desperate means and in favor of capitulation. accordingly a white flag was hoisted on one of the towers to the sound of the drum, but it was ignored, and the firing continued amid loud shouts of "lower the drawbridge! nothing will happen to you!" the governor thereupon handed over the keys to a subordinate officer. the mob rushed in and the fate of the garrison was sealed. the sub-officers, who had laid down their arms and were unable to defend themselves, were killed, and so also were the grand old swiss guards, stalwart veterans, who were slaughtered with but few exceptions. in the midst of the affray, m. de launay was seized and carried off to the hotel de ville. frenzied cries of "hang him! hang him!" greeted him on the way, and the unfortunate governor is reported to have looked up to heaven, saying, "kill me. i prefer death to insults i have not deserved." they now fell upon him from all sides with bayonet, musket and pike, and as a dragoon passed, he was called upon to cut off the victim's head. this man, denot (whose own account has been followed in this description), essayed first with a sword, then completed the decapitation with his knife. the severed head was paraded through paris till nightfall on a pike. this was the first of many similar atrocities. the people, without restraint, became intoxicated with brutal exultation. the wildest orgies took place, and the wine shops were crowded with drunken desperadoes, who were the heroes of the hour. the now defenceless castle was visited by thousands to witness its final destruction. numbers of carriages passed before it or halted to watch the demolition as the stones were thrown down from its towers amid clouds of dust. ladies, fashionably dressed, and dandies of the first water mingled with the half-naked workmen, and were now jeered at, now applauded. the most prominent personages, great authors and orators, celebrated painters, popular actors and actresses, nobles, courtiers and ambassadors assembled to view the scene of old france expiring and new france in the throes of birth. the wreck and ruin of the bastile were speedily accomplished. the people were undisputed masters, and they swarmed over the abased stronghold, filling it from top to bottom. "some threw the guns from the battlements into the ditch; others with pickaxes and hammers labored to undermine and destroy the towers. these smashed in furniture, tore and dispersed all the books, registers and records; those laid prompt hands on anything they fancied. some looted the rooms and carried off what they pleased. strict search was made through the bastile for prisoners to set free, yet the cells were for the most part empty. the committals during this last reign had not exceeded for the whole period, and when it capitulated only seven were in custody. gruesome rumors prevailed that several still lingered underground, in deep subterranean cells; but none were found, nor any skeletons, when the whole edifice was pulled down." this demolition was voted next year, , by the committee of the hotel de ville, which ordered that "the antique fortress too long the terror of patriotism and liberty" should be utterly razed to its very foundations. the workmen set to work with so much expedition that in a little more than three months a portion of the materials was offered for sale. a sharp competition ensued at the auction, and the stones were fashioned into mementoes, set in rings, bracelets and brooches, and fetched high prices. the contractors for demolition made a small fortune by the sale of these trinkets. napoleon at first intended to erect his great arc de triomphe upon the site of the bastile, but changed his mind and selected the place where it now stands. the place de la bastile remained for forty years a wilderness--in summer a desert, in winter a swamp. the revolution of , which placed louis philippe upon the throne of france, was not accomplished without bloodshed, and it was decided to raise a monument to those who lost their lives on this somewhat unimportant occasion. the result was the elegant column, which every visitor to paris may admire to-day in the place de la bastile. vincennes, the second state prison of paris, survived the terror and exists to this day converted into a barracks for artillery. a portion of the temple, the especial stronghold of the knights templars already described, still existed in part when the revolution came. strange to say, its demolition had been contemplated by the government of louis xvi, and it had already partly disappeared when the storm broke, and rude hands were laid upon the luckless sovereign who became a scapegoat, bearing the accumulated sins of a long line of criminal and self-indulgent monarchs. when louis and his family fell into the power of the stern avengers of many centuries of wrong doing, they were hurried to the temple and imprisoned in the last vestige of the fortress palace. it stood quite isolated and alone. all had been razed to the ground but the donjon tower, to which was attached a small strip of garden enclosed between high walls. this became the private exercise ground of the fallen royalties. the king occupied the first floor of the prison and his family the second floor. the casements were secured with massive iron bars, the windows were close shuttered so that light scarcely entered, and those within were forbidden to look out upon the world below. the staircase was protected by six wicket gates, each so low and narrow that it was necessary to stoop and squeeze to get through. upon the king's incarceration a seventh wicket was added with an iron bar fixed at the top of the staircase, always locked and heavily barred. the door opening directly into the king's chamber was lined with iron. louis was never left alone. two guards were constantly with him day and night, as is the rule to this day with condemned malefactors in france. they sat with him in the dining-room when at meals and slept in the immediate neighborhood of his bedroom. his guards were in the last degree suspicious, and he endured many indignities at their hands. no whispering was allowed, not even with his wife and children. if he spoke to his valet, who slept in his room at night, it must be audibly, and the king was constantly admonished to speak louder. no writing materials were allowed him at first. he was forbidden to use pens, ink and paper until he was arraigned before the national convention. but he was not denied the solace of books, and read and re-read his favorite authors. in latin he preferred livy, cæsar, horace, virgil. in french he preferred books of travel. for a time he was supplied with newspapers, but his gaolers disliked his too great interest in the progress of the revolution, and the news of the day was withheld from him. his reading became the more extensive and it was calculated on the eve of his death that he had read through volumes during the five months and seven days of his captivity in the temple. the daily routine of his prison life was monotonously repeated. he rose early and remained at his prayers till nine o'clock, at which hour his family joined him in the breakfast room as long as this was permitted. he ate nothing at that hour but made it a rule to fast till midday dinner. after breakfast he found pleasant employment in acting as schoolmaster to his children. he taught the little dauphin latin and geography, while the queen, marie antoinette, instructed their daughter and worked with her needle. dinner was at one o'clock. the table was well supplied, but the king ate sparingly and drank little, the queen limiting herself to water with her food. meat was regularly served, even on fridays, for religious observances no more controlled his keepers, and the king would limit himself to fast diet by dipping his bread in a little wine and eating nothing else. the rest of the day was passed in mild recreation, playing games with the children till supper at nine o'clock, after which the king saw his son to bed in the little pallet prepared by his own hands. the time drew on in sickening suspense, but louis displayed the unshaken fortitude of one who could rise above almost intolerable misfortune. insult and grievous annoyance were heaped upon his devoted head. his valet was changed continually so that he might have no faithful menial by his side. the most humiliating precautions were taken against his committing suicide--not a scrap of metal, not even a penknife or any steel instrument was suffered to be taken in to him. his food was strictly tested and examined; the prison cook tasted every dish under the eyes of a sentry, to guard against the admixture of poison. the most horrible outrage of all was when the bloodthirsty _sans-culottes_ thrust in at his cell window the recently severed and still bleeding head of one of the favorites of the court, the princess de lamballe. we may follow out the dreadful story to its murderous end. years of tyrannous misgovernment in france, innumerable deeds of blood and cruel oppression, such as have been already presented in this volume, culminated in the sacrifice of the unhappy representative of a system to which he succeeded and innocently became responsible for. the bitter wrongs endured for centuries by a downtrodden people, goaded at length to the most sanguinary reprisals, were avenged in the person of a blameless ruler. louis xvi was a martyr beyond question; but he only expiated the sins of his truculent and ferocious forerunners, who had no pity, no mercy, no compassion for their weak and helpless subjects. louis' trial, under a parody of justice, and his execution amid the hideous gibes of a maddened, merciless crowd, was the price paid by the last of the french kings, for years of uncontrolled and arbitrary authority. the day of arraignment, so long and painfully anticipated, came as a sudden surprise. on monday, december th, , the captive king when at his prayers was startled by the beating of drums and the neighing of horses in the courtyard below the donjon. he could not fix his attention on the morning lesson to his son, and was playing with him idly when the visit of the mayor of paris roused him and summoned him by the name of louis capet to appear at the bar of the convention. he then heard the charges against him, and the day passed in mock proceedings of the tribunal. the king's demeanor was brave, his countenance unappalled by the tumultuous outbursts that often came from the audience in the galleries. as the judges could come to no agreement on the first day, the proceedings were declared "open," to be continued without intermission. for three more days the stormy debates lasted and still the convention hesitated to pass the death sentence on the king. in the end it was carried by a majority of five. louis xvi bore himself like a brave man to the last. he addressed a farewell letter to the convention in which he said, "i owe it to my honor and to my family not to subscribe to a sentence which declares me guilty of a crime of which i cannot accuse myself." when he was taken to execution from the temple and first saw the guillotine, he is said to have shuddered and shrank back, but quickly recovering himself he stepped out of the carriage with firmness and composure and, calmly ascending the scaffold, went to his death like a brave man. the bastile was gone, but the need for prisons was far greater under the reign of liberty, so-called, than when despotic sovereigns ruled the land. the last of them, louis xvi, would himself have swept away the bastile had he been spared. he had indeed razed for-l'evèque and the petit châtelet, and imported many salutary changes into the conciergerie out of his own private purse. during the revolutionary epoch many edifices were appropriated for purposes of detention, the ordinary prisons being crowded to overflowing. in the conciergerie alone, while some two thousand people waited elsewhere for vacancies, there were from one thousand to twelve hundred lodged within the walls without distinction of age, sex or social position. men, women and children were herded together, as many as fifty in the space of twenty feet. a few had beds, but the bulk of them slept on damp straw at the mercy of voracious rats that gnawed at their clothing and would have devoured their noses and ears had they not protected their faces with their hands. within six months of , prisoners were confined in the prisons of bicêtre, luxembourg, the carmelites and saint lazare, en route to the guillotine. st. pélagie held at one time. "in paris," says carlyle, "are now some twelve prisons, in france some forty-four thousand." lamartine's figures for paris are higher. he gives the number of prisons as eighteen, into which all the members of the parliament, all the receivers-general, all the magistrates, all the nobility and all the clergy were congregated to be dragged thence to the scaffold. four thousand heads fell in a few months. a number of simple maidens, the eldest only eighteen, who had attended a ball at verdun when it was captured by the prussians, were removed to paris and executed. all the nuns of the convent of montmartre were guillotined, and next day the venerable abbé fenelon. in september, , there was an indiscriminate massacre, when five thousand suspected persons were torn from their homes and either slaughtered on the spot or sent to impromptu prisons. that of the abbaye ran with blood, where swiss soldier prisoners were murdered at one sweep. the details of these sanguinary scenes are too terrible to print. every prison provided its quota of victims--la force , the great châtelet , and from the conciergerie. "at bicêtre," says thiers, in his history of the revolution, "the carnage was the longest, the most sanguinary, the most terrible. this prison was the sink for every vice, the sewer of paris. everyone detained in it was killed. it would be impossible to fix the number of victims, but they have been estimated at six thousand. death was dealt out through eight consecutive days and nights; pikes, sabres, muskets did not suffice for the ferocious assassins, who had recourse to guns." another authority, colonel munro, the english diplomatist, reported to lord grenville that bicêtre was attacked by a mob with seven cannon, which were loaded with small stones and discharged promiscuously into the yards crowded with prisoners. three days later, he writes: "the massacre only ended yesterday and the number of the victims may be gathered from the time it took to murder them." he puts the total at la force and bicêtre at seven thousand, and the victims were mostly madmen, idiots and the infirm. the picture of these awful times is lurid and terrible, and brings the prevailing horror vividly before us. the prisons of paris were thirty-six in number, all of large dimensions, with ninety-six provisional gaols. in the french provinces the latter were forty thousand in number, and twelve hundred more were regularly filled with a couple of hundred inmates. the most cruel barbarities were everywhere practised. prisoners were starved and mutilated so that they might be driven into open revolt and justify their more rapid removal by the guillotine. paris sent , victims to the scaffold in one year. in the provincial cities the slaughter was wholesale. lyons executed , , nantes, , , and a hundred were guillotined or shot daily. many were women, some of advanced age and infirm. at angers, to disencumber the prisons, men and women were beheaded in a few days. wholesale massacres were perpetrated in the fusillades of toulon and the drownings of nantes, which disposed of nearly five thousand in all. taine says that in the eleven departments of the west half of france a million persons perished, and the murderous work was performed in seventeen months. of a truth the last state of france was worse than the first, and the sufferings endured by the people at the hands of irresponsible autocracy were far outdone by the new atrocities of the bloodthirsty revolutionaries in mad vindication of past wrongs. end of volume iii. * * * * * * transcriber's note: every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including some inconsistent hyphenation. some minor corrections of spelling have been made. the augustan reprint society bernard mandeville, _an enquiry_ into the causes of the frequent executions at _tyburn_. ( ) _introduction_ by malvin r. zirker, jr. [illustration] publication number william andrews clark memorial library university of california, los angeles general editors richard c. boys, _university of michigan_ earl r. miner, _university of california, los angeles_ maximillian e. novak, _university of california, los angeles_ lawrence clark powell, _wm. andrews clark memorial library_ advisory editors john butt, _university of edinburgh_ james l. clifford, _columbia university_ ralph cohen, _university of california, los angeles_ vinton a. dearing, _university of california, los angeles_ arthur friedman, _university of chicago_ louis a. landa, _princeton university_ samuel h. monk, _university of minnesota_ everett t. moore, _university of california, los angeles_ james sutherland, _university college, london_ h. t. swedenberg, jr., _university of california, los angeles_ corresponding secretary edna c. davis, _clark memorial library_ introduction the _enquiry into the causes of the frequent executions at tyburn_ was originally published as a series of letters to the _british journal_. the first letter appeared on february , ;[ ] just twelve days before, jonathan wild, self-proclaimed "thief-catcher general of _great britain_ and _ireland_," had been arrested and imprisoned in newgate. thus the _enquiry_ had a special timeliness and forms a part of the contemporary interest in the increasingly notorious activities of wild. wild's systematic exploitation of the london underworld and his callous betrayal of his colleagues in criminality (he received £ from the government for each capital conviction he could claim) had created public protest since at least when an act (which mandeville cites in his preface) directed against receivers of stolen goods was passed, most probably with the primary intention of curtailing wild's operations. wild's notoriety was at its peak in - after his successful apprehension of joseph blake ("blueskin") and jack sheppard, the latter figure becoming a kind of national hero after his five escapes from prison (he was recaptured by wild each time).[ ] the timeliness of mandeville's pamphlet extends, of course, beyond its interest in jonathan wild, who after all receives comparatively little of mandeville's attention. the spectacle of tyburn itself and the civil and moral failures it represented was one which londoners could scarcely ignore and which for some provided a morbid fascination. mandeville's vivid description of the condemned criminal in newgate, his journey to tyburn, and his "turning off," must have been strikingly forceful to his contemporaries, who knew all too well the accuracy of his description. "tyburn fair" was a holiday. apprentices deserted their posts, pickpockets, dram-dealers and other free-lance caterers, prostitutes, grub-street elegiasts armed with dying speeches or commemorative verses, went to theirs, to swell the enormous and unruly holiday mob, a mob given a certain tone by the presence of the respectable or aristocratic curious (boswell says "i must confess that i myself am never absent from a public execution") who came in their coaches or even rode along with the condemned in his cart. the mob at tyburn reached enormous proportions. thirty thousand people witnessed an execution in ; eighty thousand an execution in moorfields in .[ ] richardson, in _familiar letters on important occasions_ (letter clx) refers to the "pressure of the mob, which is prodigious, nay, almost incredible." when such popular madness was climaxed by the generally unrepentant criminal's drunken bravado (richardson's criminals "grew most shamefully daring and wanton.... they swore, laugh'd and talked obscenely"[ ]), and by their glorification by the mob (according to fielding the criminal at tyburn was "triumphant," and enjoyed the "compassion of the meek and tender-hearted, and ... the applause, admiration, and envy, of all the bold and hardened"[ ]), serious-minded men rightly wondered what valid end the execution of the law served. and of course it was not merely that the criminal died unrepentant or that the spectators remained unedified and undeterred. the scene at tyburn also reflected society's failure to utilize a significant portion of its "most useful members," a failure disturbing to the dominant mercantile attitude of the time which valued "the bodies of men" as potential sources of wealth (mandeville's concern with the usefulness of the lower class is obvious throughout the first part of the _fable of the bees_ and in the _essay on charity, and charity-schools_). mandeville's subject, then, was one familiar to his readers and one whose importance they recognized. his attitude toward his subject was for the most part a thoroughly conventional one. for instance, his primary assumption that the penal code must be harsh since its function is to deter, not to reclaim, pervades eighteenth-century thought on the subject and is clearly reflected in the number of offences carrying the death penalty ( when blackstone wrote; in the early nineteenth century). its logical culmination may be found in arguments such as george ollyffe presented in . ollyffe, noting that the frequency of the death penalty was not deterring criminals, suggests that more horrible forms of punishment be devised, such as breaking on the wheel, "by which the criminals run through ten thousand thousand of the most exquisite agonies ... during the unconceivable torture of their bruised, broken, and disjointed limbs," or "twisting a little cord hard about their arms or legs," which would produce the "keenest anguish."[ ] ollyffe's public-spirited ingenuity should be a warning to modern readers who assume that mandeville's attitude is unusually harsh and unfeeling. most of mandeville's specific proposals too may be paralleled in the many pamphlets of the time concerned with the criminal and the lower class. to point out some of the similarities between mandeville's and fielding's proposals (which he states most fully in _an enquiry into the late increase of robbers_, ) is not to posit direct influence but to suggest the uniformity of opinion on these matters during many years. both mandeville and fielding argue for closer control over receivers of stolen goods, against advertising in the paper to recover stolen goods, against the false compassion of the tender-hearted who fail to prosecute or of juries which fail to convict the guilty, against the indiscriminate imprisonment of young with old, hardened criminals with first offenders, men with women, and against frequent pardons. they agree in demanding that the condemned should meet his death, soberly, shortly after his conviction.[ ] mandeville's suggestion that the bodies of the executed be turned over to surgeons for dissection is not to be found in fielding's pamphlet. it does, however, become a part of the "act for preventing the horrid crime of murder" ( geo. ii. c. ), an act for which fielding is often given credit.[ ] this suggestion, and that in chapter vi to trade felons into slavery (which as far as i know is mandeville's own), clearly stem from the impulse to increase the deterrent power of the law by making it more terrible. what distinguishes mandeville's pamphlet (in addition to the characteristically hard-headed bluntness of its author) is a quality present in one degree or another in all his work: an exuberant delight in creating scene. throughout the _fable of the bees_, for example, but especially in the first part, the argument is punctuated by vivid scenes in which an idea is acted out or illustrated. invariably these scenes have a merit and interest beyond that owing to their function in the argument. they are lively, vivid, picturesque, humorous or touching in their own right. the reader can scarcely doubt that mandeville enjoyed composing them--he admits as much in the preface to the _enquiry_ when he acknowledges, in defending the "lowness" of his subject, the "pleasure there is in imitating nature in what shape soever." the gusto and vitality of the description of the events at tyburn well illustrate mandeville's art. he puts us on the scene, lets us see and hear the various actors, gives us telling detail: a bully rolling in the mire; a putrified wig; a drunken old woman on a bulk; refuse flying through the air; trollops in rags; a gin seller "squeez'd up in a corner"; carcasses of dogs and cats. the scene is filled with objects and has movement as well: the mob is a torrent which "bursts through the gate," a "floating multitude." there is "jostling," "kicking dirt," "rolling"; peddlers "stir about," and one who has "ventured in the middle of the current" is "fluctuating in the irregular stream." the air is filled with "oaths and vile expressions," and "loud laughter"; a peddler "tears his throat with crying his commodity." mandeville orders his scene spatially and chronologically, and he enforces its vividness by relating the action in the present tense. its basic unity, however, is owing to the evaluation and control provided by the various tones of the narrator's voice, which is alternately scornful and disgusted ("abandoned rakehells") and almost playfully ironic ("he is the prettiest fellow among them who is the least shock'd at nastiness"; "their darling cordial, the grand preservative of sloth, jeneva"). for one reader at least mandeville is eminently successful in capturing what must have been the appalling uproar and the dismaying quality of the events at tyburn. his vivid, circumstantial realism sets the _enquiry_ apart, as far as i know, from all other pamphlets dealing with this sorry subject. if his views for the most part are conventional, his style and technique are not, and in this respect the _enquiry_ is best compared not with other pamphlets but with hogarth's portrayal of the demise of the idle apprentice (plate xi of the _industrious and idle apprentice_, ), in which hogarth represents visually many of the same details which mandeville reports and in which he conveys a comparable sense of the violent and brutal activity of the tyburn mob. footnotes to the introduction [footnote : see "a note on the text" below.] [footnote : a useful account of wild's career and fame appears in william r. irwin's _the making of jonathan wild_ (new york, ), pp. - .] [footnote : the figures are taken from leon radzinowicz' _a history of english criminal law_ (new york, - ), vol. i, p. , n. .] [footnote : compare the hero of swift's "_clever_ tom clinch _going to be hanged_" ( ), "who hung like a hero, and never would flinch." he "rode stately through _holbourn_, to die in his calling," and adjured his friends to "take courage, dear comrades, and be not afraid, / nor slip this occasion to follow your trade."] [footnote : henry fielding, "an enquiry into the causes of the late increase of robbers," _works_, ed. henley (london, ), vol. , p. . fielding might have added that the criminal-hero also enjoyed the amorous admiration of the fair: when clever tom clinch rode by "the maids to the doors and the balconies ran, / and said, lack-a-day! he's a proper young man"; according to mrs. peachum "the youth in his cart hath the air of a lord, / and we cry, there dies an adonis!"] [footnote : george ollyffe, _an essay humbly offer'd, for an act of parliament to prevent capital crimes, and the loss of many lives; and to promote a desirable improvement and blessing in the nation_, second edition, (london, ), p. .] [footnote : fielding's and mandeville's positions may be compared to that of an anonymous pamphleteer writing in : "i might add, that it were not amiss, if after condemnation they were allowed nothing but bread and water; a good way to humble them, and bring them to a sense of their condition, as to a future state, and to put a stop to their murthering their keepers, and attempting to break gaol. and it were well, if a particular habit (black the most proper colour) were assigned them, at least at their executions; and that they might not be suffered to make their exits in gay clothes (as they sometimes do like men that triumph) but rather as becomes those, who are just going to undergo the curse of the law, and that are intended to be a warning to others." r. j., _hanging not punishment enough, for murtherers, high-way men, and house-breakers_, p. .] [footnote : both the criminal and the "mob" detested the anatomists. in the british journal of march , --one of the issues in which mandeville's letters appeared--a captured murderer is reported to have said "d----n my soul; but i desire i may not be anatomiz'd." in the same issue is recorded a mob's assault on a doctor whom they suspected, rightly it seems, of grave-robbing. he was forced to flee for his life and his stable was "pulled down."] a note on the text the letters (which mandeville tells us were composed before wild's capture) appeared in nos. - of the _british journal_ (feb. , mar. , mar. , mar. , mar. , and apr. , ). the differences between the text of the newspapers and that of the pamphlet have some significance, for what alterations there are suggest that mandeville was a fairly careful editor. the preface to the pamphlet is entirely new--its addition is one of several changes mandeville made to put the articles in pamphlet form. he also, for example, added a table of contents, and gave headings to each chapter and, in one instance, changed "papers" to "chapters." throughout minor changes (not clearly purposeful) in punctuation, italicization, and capitalization occur, and occasionally a word is changed ("holland" becomes "leyden," p. ) or a word is inserted ("none of them should" becomes "none of them likewise should," p. ), but only three changes may be called substantial. ( ) in the first newspaper article the following sentence appeared in the text in brackets after the footnoted sentence on p. of the pamphlet: "here i beg leave to observe, that the greatest part of this treatise was wrote some months before jonathan wild was apprehended; and that as nothing was said of him, but what may be equally applied to any one, who either now follows, or shall take upon him the same employment, i keep to the original manuscript, imagining the reader will be better pleased to see the author's sentiments concerning jonathan, and the trade he drove before his commitment, than any alterations that might be expected from what has happen'd since." ( ) the phrase on p. , "with applause, and repeated with impunity," corrects the newspaper version "with impunity, and repeated with applause." ( ) on p. , lines through appear only in the pamphlet, the newspaper version reading merely "... of course, we seldom meet with any thing that is edifying, or moving." the pamphlet is reproduced from the copy at the huntington library. an enquiry into the causes of the frequent executions at _tyburn_: and _a_ proposal _for some_ regulations _concerning_ felons _in_ prison, _and the good effects to be expected from them_. to which is added, a discourse on transportation, and a method to render that punishment more effectual. by _b. mandeville_, m.d. _oderunt peccare mali formidine poenæ._ _london_, printed: and sold by _f. roberts_ in _warwick-lane_. mdccxxv. [illustration] the preface the design of this small treatise, is to lessen if not prevent the common practice of thieving, and save many lives of the loose and indigent vulgar, of which now such great numbers are yearly lavish'd away for trifles. in order to this, i have endeavour'd to set in a true light the destructive consequences of _theftbote_, and the damage the publick sustains from the trade that is drove by thiefcatchers, and the various ways now in vogue of compounding felonies, by which the safety as well as maintenance of thieves and pilferers are industriously taken care of, and the laws that enforce prosecution altogether eluded. to the same purpose i have pointed at the licentiousness and other disorders of _newgate_, arising from the wrong method we have of treating common felons in prison. i have describ'd the transactions of execution day, with the procession to _tyburn_, and demonstrated what small advantage they are of, as well to the condemn'd themselves, whose grand affair it is to prepare themselves for another world, as to their companions who should be deterred, or the rest of the spectators, who should be struck with the awfulness of the solemnity. i have likewise searched into the origin of courage, and the wrong judgments that are differently pass'd on the dying behaviour of malefactors, shew'd the ill consequences as well as absurdity of our mistaking drunkenness for intrepidity, and a senseless deportment for undauntedness; and touch'd on the several neglects and mismanagements that are accessary, and one way or other contribute to the encrease and support of felons, and consequently, the frequency of executions. afterwards i have in a chapter by it self offer'd some proposals for a better usage, and more proper treatment of common felons in confinement, and made a pathetical representation of the good effects we might probably expect from such wholesome regulations. to these i have added a discourse on transportation, and a method of rendering that punishment not only more effectual on the criminals, but likewise advantagious to the publick in the most extraordinary manner. i am not so vain as to place any merit in the performance, or promise my self the applause of many: on the contrary, i expect to be censur'd, and perhaps deservedly, for the uncouth decorations i have intermix'd with my subject. men of taste and politeness will think themselves very little oblig'd to me for entertaining them with the meanest and most abject part of low life, for almost a whole chapter together; and tell me that the inside of _newgate_, either on an execution day, or any other, is not a scene they ought to be troubled with; and that the exactness of a picture among the judicious is of little worth where the noble manner is wanting. to this i could answer that, if i have trespassed against the laws either of elegance or formality, i was forc'd to it by what is superior to all laws, necessity. when a man is to inspire his readers with an aversion to what they are unacquainted with, he can never compass his end without furnishing them first with a general idea of the thing against which he wou'd raise their indignation: i could add that, when a piece is lively and tolerably finish'd, the good-natured critick will pardon the meaness of the design, for the sake of the colouring and the application of the master. but if neither of these excuses are thought sufficient, i must plead guilty, and confess that the pleasure there is in imitating nature in what shape soever is so bewitching, that it over-rules the dictates of art, and often forces us to offend against our own judgment. as there are in this city not a few men of business and good understanding, whose leisure allows them not to read much beyond the publick news, and most of them are concern'd in the contents of this pamphlet, i caused the several chapters of it to be printed in as many papers of the _british_ journal; imagining that its having been dispers'd, and, as it were, advertis'd in that manner, could give no offence to the more curious, who would chuse to have it entire by it self, and peruse it in a character less troublesome to the eyes. in the first chapter i should have taken notice of a clause in an act of parliament that was made in the fourth year of his present majesty, and is call'd, _an act for the further preventing robbery, burglary, and other felonies_, &c. the candid reader i hope will pardon the neglect, occasion'd by the small acquaintance i have with the law, and give me leave in this place to repair that omission. the words are these. and whereas there are several persons who have secret acquaintance with felons, and who make it their business to help persons to their stollen goods, and by that means gain money from them, which is divided between them and the felons, where-by they greatly encourage such offenders: be it enacted by the authority aforesaid, that whenever any person taketh money or reward, directly or indirectly, under pretence, or upon account of helping any person or persons to any stollen goods or chattels, every such person so taking money or reward, as aforesaid (unless such person doth apprehend, or cause to be apprehended such felon who stole the same, and cause such felon to be brought to his trial for the same, and give evidence against him) shall be guilty of felony, and suffer the pains and penalties of felony, according to the felony committed in stealing such goods, and in such and the same manner, as if such offender had himself stole such goods and chattels, in the manner and with such circumstances as the same were stollen. since the printing of these chapters, in the paper aforesaid, i have likewise been inform'd; that, as receiving money for assisting others in the recovery of their stolen goods, is by this act made felony; so by the known rules of law, whoever is aiding and assisting thereto is of course guilty as an accessary, and to incurr the same punishment as the principal: and it cannot be doubted; but that he, who pays money on such an occasion, is accessary to the receiving of it; which well deserves the reflection of those who make no scruple of redeeming the goods that had been stolen from them; as likewise does another thing, which is, that if he who takes money for stolen goods is a principal felon, and that he who pays it is a felon, as being accessary, then he who by publick advertisements with promises of secrecy, and that no questions shall be asked, invites others to commit felony, is guilty of a great misdemeanour, tho' it produce no effect; but, if it do, the person publishing such advertisement will be an accessary likewise. [illustration] the contents. chap. i. of theftbote; _or, the crime of compounding of felony_. page chap. ii. _of the ill consequences of_ theftbote, _and the licentiousness of felons in_ newgate. chap. iii. _of execution day, the journey to_ tyburn, and _a word in behalf of anatomical dissections._ chap. iv. _of the wrong judgments that are pass'd on the dying behaviour of malefactors._ chap. v. _of regulations concerning_ felons _in prison, and the good effects to be expected from them._ chap. vi. _of_ transportation: _and a method to render that punishment more effectual._ [illustration] [illustration] chap. i. _of_ theftbote; _or, the crime of compounding of felony._ the multitude of unhappy wretches, that every year are put to death for trifles in our great metropolis, has long been afflicting to men of pity and humanity; and continues to give great uneasiness to every person, who has a value for his kind. many good projects have been thought of to cure this evil, by sapping the foundation of it: a society has been set up to reform our manners; and neither workhouses, nor discipline on small crimes, have been wanting: an act has been made against prophane cursing and swearing; and many charity schools have been erected. but the event has not answer'd hitherto the good design of those endeavours. this city abounds as much with loose, lazy, and dishonest poor; there is as much mischief done by ordinary felons; and executions for theft and burglary are as frequent, at least, as ever: nay, it is believed, that _london_ is more pester'd with low villany than any other place whatever, the proportion of bigness between them not left unconsider'd. as there is no effect without a cause, so something must be the reason of this calamity. i have long and carefully examined into this matter, and am forced to ascribe the mischief complained of to two palpable evils, distinct from those we have in common with other large overgrown cities. one regards prosecutions; the other the treatment that is given to malefactors after they are taken. i shall begin with the first: i mean the neglect of them, occasion'd by our shameful negotiations with thieves, or their agents, for the recovery of stolen goods, by which, in reality, we become aiders and abetters to them. the law of _england_ is so tender of mens lives, that whoever justly prosecutes, and convicts a person of a capital crime, has nothing to answer for to his conscience, but, on the contrary, has done a service to his country, without offence to god, or the least breach of charity to his neighbour. but as every body has not strength of mind and resolution enough to perform duties that are repugnant to his nature, so, making allowances for human frailties, i could excuse the backwardness of a meek home-bred person, who should complain, that to appear in open court, and speak before a judge, are terrible things to him. but i think it unpardonable, that a man should knowingly act against the law, and by so doing powerfully contribute to the increase, as well as safety and maintenance, of pilferers and robbers, from no other principle, than a criminal selfishness, accompany'd with an utter disregard to the publick: yet nothing is more common among us.[ ] as soon as any thing is missing, suspected to be stolen, the first course we steer is directly to the office of mr. _jonathan wild_. if what we want is a trinket, either enamel'd, or otherwise curiously wrought; if there is painting about it; if it be a particular ring, the gift of a friend; or any thing which we esteem above the real value, and offer more for it than mr. _thief_ can make of it, we are look'd upon as good chaps, and welcome to redeem it. but if it be plain gold or silver, we shall hardly see it again, unless we pay the worth of it. some years ago, it is true, a man might, for half a piece, have fetch'd back a snuff-box that weigh'd twenty or thirty shillings: but this was in the infancy of the establishment. now they are grown wiser, and calculate exactly what such a thing will melt down for: to offer less is thought unreasonable; and unless mr. _thief-catcher_ stands your friend indeed, if you have it, you will seldom save any thing but the fashion. if in this place you can hear no tidings of your goods, it is counted a sign, that they are in the hands of irregular practitioners, that steal without permission of the board. in this case we immediately put in an advertisement in some news-paper or other, with a promise, that such a reward will be given, and no questions asked. i own, that in the printing of these short epistles there is no manner of harm, if we abstract the act itself from the concern the publick has in it. the tenor of them is rather benevolent than injurious: and a panegyrist on the present times might justly say of them, that in no performances the true spirit of christianity was so conspicuous as in these: that they were not only free from calumny and ill language, but likewise so void of reproach, that speaking to a thief, we never call'd him so in those charitable addresses: that in them the very catalogues of injuries receiv'd, were penn'd with as little heat, or resentment, as ever tradesman shew'd in a bill of parcels directed to his best customer: that here we are so far from hating our enemy, that we proffer him a recompence for his trouble, if he will condescend to let us have our own again; and leaving all revenge to god, to shew that we are willing to forgive and forget, we consult, in the most effectual manner, the safety of a person that deserves hanging for the wrong he has done us. yet, notwithstanding the kind constructions that may be put on these civil offers, they all tend to the _compounding of felony_, and are the occasion of a double mischief: they invite the indigent and lazy to pick pockets, and render the negligent more careless than probably they would be, was this practice abolish'd. a pocket-book, or memorandum, may be stole from a man that is of vast concern to him, and yet of no use but to the owner: if this be taken by a regular thief, a listed pilferer, it is easily recover'd for a small reward. i don't suppose any one so silly, that therefore he would go to places, and into companies, on purpose to have his pocket pick'd; but i can't help thinking, that if those things were never to be heard of again, and the loss irretrievable, many young rakes, and other loose reprobates, would be under greater apprehensions, and more upon their guard, at least when they had such a charge about them, than the generality of them now are. and again, if nothing could be made of letters, papers, and things of that nature, such as have no known worth, and are not readily turned into money, the numbers of whores and rogues, young and old, that are employ'd in the diving trade, would decrease considerably; many of them, from a principle of prudence, refusing to meddle with any thing else. for as on most of the things now spoke of, no real value can be set, the punishment would be inconsiderable, if any, should the things be found upon them, or themselves be taken in the fact. most men will agree to all this, whilst unconcern'd; but when private interest is touch'd, it soon stifles these considerations. i should be a fool, says one, when a thing of value is stolen from me, not to get it back, if i can, for a trifle. if i lose a sword, or a watch, i must have another; and to save the fashion in these things is considerable: it is better to lose the half than the whole. i have nothing to do with the thief, says another, if i have my own again, it is all i want: what good would it do to me to have a poor fellow hang'd? a third, more compassionate, will tell us, that if he knew the thief, he would not meddle with him; and that he would lose ten times the value of what has been taken from him, rather than be the occasion of a man's death. to these i reply, that the legislators seem to have known how the generality of men would argue, and what excuses they would make; they had an eye on the frailty of our nature; consider'd, that all prosecutions are troublesome, and often very expensive; that most men preferred their own interest, their ease and pleasure, to any regard of the publick; and therefore they provided against our passions with so much severity. _compounding of felony_ is not prohibited under a small penalty, or attoned for by a little fine; it is next to felony; and the most creditable citizen, that is convicted of it, ceases to be an honest man. the offence in our law is call'd theftbote; of which my lord chief justice _coke_ says, "that it is an offence beyond misprision of felony; for that is only a bare concealment of his bare knowledge: but that it is theftbote when the owner not only knows of the felony, but takes of the thief his goods again, or amends for the same to favour or maintain him, that is, not to prosecute him, to the intent he may escape. the punishment of theftbote is ransom and imprisonment." theftbote (as described by act of parliament) _est emenda furti capta absque consideratione curiæ domini regis_. sir _matthew hale_, in his _pleas of the crown_, says, "that theftbote is more than a bare misprision of felony, and is, where the owner doth not only know the felony, but takes his goods again, or other amends, not to prosecute." this rigour of the legislature is a full demonstration, that they thought it a crime of the most pernicious consequence to the society; yet it is become familiar to us; and our remissness in several matters, relating to felons, is not to be parallell'd in any other civiliz'd nation. that rogues should be industriously dispers'd throughout the city and suburbs; that different hours and stations should be observ'd among them, and regular books kept of stollen goods; that the superintendent in this hopeful oeconomy should almost every sessions, for a reward, betray, prosecute, and hang one or more of this his acquaintance, and at the same time keep on his correspondence amongst the survivors, whom, one after another, he sends all to their triangular home; that magistrates should not only know and see this, but likewise continue to make use of such a person for an evidence, and in a manner own that they are beholden to him in the administration of justice; that, i say, all these things should be facts, is something very extraordinary, in the principal city, and the home management of a kingdom, so formidable abroad, and of such moment in the balance of _europe_, as that of _great britain_. the mischief that one man can do as a thief, is a very trifle to what he may be the occasion of, as an agent or concealer of felons. the longer this practice continues, the more the number of rogues must hourly encrease; and therefore it is high time that regular book-keeping of stolen goods should cease, and that all gangs and knots of thieves should be broke and destroy'd as much as is possible, at least, none of them suffer'd to form themselves into societies that are under discipline, and act by order of a superior. it is highly criminal in any man, for lucre, to connive at a piece of felony which he could have hinder'd: but a profess'd thief-catcher, above all, ought to be severely punish'd, if it can be proved that he has suffer'd a known rogue to go on in his villany, tho' but one day, after it was in his power to apprehend and convict him, more especially if it appears that he was a sharer in the profit. chap. ii. _of the ill consequences of_ theftbote, _and the licentiousness of felons in newgate._ often, when i have spoke against _theftbote_, after the same manner as now i have been writing, i have heard men of worth and good sense come into my sentiments, who yet, after all, would tell me, that if i had lost any thing myself, they believ'd that i would be glad to have it again with as little cost and trouble as i could. this i never denied, and am still willing to own. we are all partial and unfit judges in our own cause; but the most that can be made of this, is, that in that case neither i nor any body else, that has had any thing stolen from him, ought to be consulted about the matter: we are ill qualified, and therefore incapable of determining any thing rightly concerning it. i have another reason why this ought to be referred rather to those who never lost any thing by thieves and pilferers, than others who have been sufferers that way: rogues, it is true, have a thousand stratagems, and a person may be very careful, and yet have his pocket pick'd, if ever he appears in the street, or a crowd: yet, if we divide mankind into two classes, that the one will be more exempt from those misfortunes than the other, is undeniable. a man, who is always upon his guard in the streets, and suspects all crowds; that is temperate in his liquor; avoids, as much as is possible, unseasonable hours; never gives ear to night-walkers; a man that abroad is always watchful over himself, and every thing about him, and at home takes care of his doors and bolts, his shutters, locks, and bars; such a one, i say, is in less danger than others, who are unthinking, and never mind what companies they thrust themselves into; or such as will be drunk, go home late in the dark unattended, and scruple not to talk and converse with lewd women, as they meet them; or that are careless of themselves as well as of the securing and fastening of their houses. it is evident then which class would yield the most proper judges; whom if it was left to, i don't question but the sober, careful, and wiser part of the nation would agree, that the practice in vogue, and method made use of to recover stolen goods, even tho' there was no express law against it, is, on many accounts, mischievous to the publick, and visibly destructive to the interest of honest property, and our security in the enjoyment of it. there is no greater encouragement for men to follow any labour or handicraft, than that they are paid as soon as they have done their work, without any further trouble. it is from such a consideration as this, that to encrease the publick security, the law not only punishes stealing, but likewise makes it felony, knowingly to buy stolen goods; and moreover perpetuates honest property, and renders the right of it inalienable from the injured owner, who seizes his goods in what hands soever he finds them. these two additional precautions are of admirable use in hampering common villains, and strengthening the law against theft. from the first, a rogue, after he has made himself liable to be hang'd, may be still disappointed, and miss his chief aim; for as money is what he wants, if no body will purchase what he offers, he is never the nearer. the second makes that he is never safe, tho' he is rid of the goods, and the money in his pocket; for tho' they are gone through half a dozen hands, as soon as the right owner lays claim to the things stole, every one is oblig'd to discover where he had them; and by this means it is seldom difficult to find out the thief, or the receiver of stolen goods. to leap these two barriers, and free himself at once of the trouble there is in finding a safe purchaser, and all apprehensions of future danger, a rogue could not wish or imagine any thing more effectual than that he might lodge what he has stole in the hands of the owner himself, and so receive a reward for his pains, and, at the same time, a pardon for his crime, of him, whose prosecution was the only thing he had to fear. it is evident then, that the friendly commerce, and amicable negotiations, now in vogue, between thieves and those that are robb'd by them, are the greatest encouragement of low villany that can be invented, and as sure a way to keep up the breed of rogues, and promote the interest of them, as either our fishery or the coal trade are constant nurseries for sailors. i am not ignorant, that in the present conjuncture, as cases might be stated, it would be very harsh, and seem to be the height of injustice, if we should hinder people from redeeming stolen goods on all emergencies whatever. a man may be vigilant and careful, and his servants the same, and yet, their eyes being one moment turn'd from the counter, a shop-book may be snatched, and carried off, perhaps, a month before _christmas_. this may put a tradesman of good business in great distress: must he lose it? i say, yes, if the publick is to be preferr'd to a private interest. in the mean time, i know very well what every body would do in that case: but that the whole suffers by the redemption, i prove thus: let us say, that this year twelve shop-books are stole, that are all recover'd for two or three guineas apiece got for them, and no body punish'd. you may expect that next year you will have forty or fifty stole, and in a few years nothing will be more common. and again, let us suppose that last year an hundred shop-books were stole; but, by vertue of some effectual law for that purpose, not one redeemed. the consequence, in all probability, would be, that the next year you would hardly have ten shop-books stole; and if, thro' the strict observance of the law, none of them likewise should be redeem'd, you would hear no more of that practice. besides, when a man steals what is of no value but to me, and can have no other view than that i should redeem it, and be his pay-master myself, the felony becomes, in a manner, a compound action, in which, as soon as i comply, i join with the thief: and if we consider that the changing of property from one man to another, is seldom of any consequence to the publick, and that all the mischief that can befal it from theft, that is, the loss of goods that way sustain'd by private persons, consists in this, that those who committed it, gain their point, and come off with impunity, let who will be the thief, or the receiver; if, i say, we consider these two things, it will appear, that in the case i have mentioned, myself, who for my own ends assisted the thief with money, and secured him from prosecution, had the greatest share in the transaction, and consequently was, of the two, the most injurious to the civil society. without me the rogue would not only have been disappointed, but likewise, whilst he continued in possession of the thing stole, remained in the perpetual dread of being prosecuted for what he never had any benefit from; and it is not probable that a man who had been twice so served, would ever make such another attempt. these things well deserve the consideration of wise men, and i desire the compassionate part of mankind to reflect on what daily experience teaches us of common felons, and they will easily find out, that unseasonable pity may prove the greatest cruelty. the oftner a young rogue steals with impunity, the sooner he'll be a thorough-paced villain, that will venture on more hazardous undertakings; and the more numerous the examples of such are, the more loose people will enter into the fraternity, of which, whether it be great or small, very few ever arrive to a middle age. some are cunning enough never to be taken in a fact; but no subtlety can save them from the impeachment of others. a licens'd practitioner may be skreen'd and protected some years, if he sticks to discipline, and pays the greatest part of his earnings for his security; but if he rides resty, and squabbles about the contribution required of him, he is in a dangerous way. it is possible that a dextrous youth may be esteemed, and be a favourite to the superintendent a great while; but when he grows very notorious, he is hunted like a deer, and the premium on his head betrays him. he may baffle his prosecutor, find a flaw in an indictment, elude the force of an evidence, come off once or twice, be reprieved, break goal, or be pardoned, the gallows will be his portion at last. the wretch that is train'd up to stealing, is the property of the hangman: he can never entirely leave off his trade: many, after transportation, have, with great hazard of their lives, found the way back again to _newgate_. a thief bred must be hang'd if he lives. from all which appears, what i undertook to prove, that remissness as to prosecutions, occasion'd by the bare-faced compositions of felony, is one of the grand causes of that lamentable complaint, the frequency of executions; and should we compare the droves that are carried to _tyburn_ for slaughter, with those others that are sent to _smithfield_ for the same purpose, we would find the modern thief-catcher subservient to the executioner in the same manner, as the wealthy grazier is to the needy butcher; and that of the cattle in either sense, few are kill'd by the one that were never cherish'd by the other. i am now come to the second cause, which is the treatment felons receive after they are taken, both in _newgate_ and their journey from thence to the gallows: first, it is wrong to suffer such numbers of them to be and converse together; for nothing but the utmost corruption can be expected from a company of forty or fifty people in a prison, who, every one of them, singly consider'd, were all the worst of thousands before they met. secondly, it is an encouragement to vice, that the most dissolute of both sexes, and generally young people too, should live promiscuously in the same place, and have access to one another. for the rest, the licentiousness of the place is abominable, and there are no low jests so filthy, no maxims so destructive to good manners, or expressions so vile and prophane, but what are utter'd there with applause, and repeated with impunity. they eat and drink what they can purchase, every body has admittance to them, and they are debarr'd from nothing but going out. their most serious hours they spend in mock tryals, and instructing one another in cross questions, to confound witnesses; and all the stratagems and evasions that can be of service, to elude the charge that shall be made against them; or else in reading lectures on some branch or other of their profession, the various arts and methods of stealing, or the glory, as well as usefulness of invincible impudence on all offensive and defensive emergencies. as villainous pawn-brokers, and all receivers of stolen goods, have good reasons to be liberal to those they have dealt with, when in this distress, so no felons are here in want, and reduced to the allowance of the prison, but novices and silly creatures, that have the least deserved to be punish'd; whereas the veteran rogues, and such as have been great traders, are well provided for. this keeps them up in debauchery; and many, after condemnation, persist in their riotous courses, and pampering their bodies, whilst the care that is taken of their souls is very mean. for such is the noise and confusion all around them, that even the best dispos'd have not sufficient opportunities to prepare themselves for another world; and the helps they receive in spirituals are, all things consider'd, no better than the accounts we have of them after every session. chap. iii. _of execution day, the journey to _tyburn_, and a word in behalf of anatomical dissections._ when the day of execution is come, among extraordinary sinners, and persons condemned for their crimes, who have but that morning to live, one would expect a deep sense of sorrow, with all the signs of a thorough contrition, and the utmost concern; that either silence, or a sober sadness, should prevail; and that all, who had any business there, should be grave and serious, and behave themselves, at least, with common decency, and a deportment suitable to the occasion. but the very reverse is true. the horrid aspects of turnkeys and gaolers, in discontent and hurry; the sharp and dreadful looks of rogues, that beg in irons, but would rob you with greater satisfaction, if they could; the bellowings of half a dozen names at a time, that are perpetually made in the enquiries after one another; the variety of strong voices, that are heard, of howling in one place, scolding and quarrelling in another, and loud laughter in a third; the substantial breakfasts that are made in the midst of all this; the seas of beer that are swill'd; the never-ceasing outcries for more; and the bawling answers of the tapsters as continual; the quantity and varieties of more entoxicating liquors, that are swallow'd in every part of _newgate_; the impudence, and unseasonable jests of those, who administer them; their black hands, and nastiness all over; all these, joined together, are astonishing and terrible, without mentioning the oaths and imprecations, that from every corner are echo'd a about, for trifles; or the little, light, and general squallor of the gaol itself, accompany'd with the melancholy noise of fetters, differently sounding, according to their weight: but what is most shocking to a thinking man, is, the behaviour of the condemn'd, whom (for the greatest part) you'll find, either drinking madly, or uttering the vilest ribaldry, and jeering others, that are less impenitent; whilst the ordinary bustles among them, and, shifting from one to another, distributes scraps of good counsel to unattentive hearers; and near him, the hangman, impatient to be gone, swears at their delays; and, as fast as he can, does his part, in preparing them for their journey. at last, out they set; and with them a torrent of mob bursts thorough the gate. amongst the lower rank, and working people, the idlest, and such as are most fond of making holidays, with prentices and journeymen to the meanest trades, are the most honourable part of these floating multitudes. all the rest are worse. the days being known before-hand, they are a summons to all thieves and pickpockets, of both sexes, to meet. great mobs are a safeguard to one another, which makes these days jubilees, on which old offenders, and all who dare not shew their heads on any other, venture out of their holes; and they resemble free marts, where there is an amnesty for all outlaws. all the way, from _newgate_ to _tyburn_, is one continued fair, for whores and rogues of the meaner sort. here the most abandon'd rakehells may light on women as shameless: here trollops, all in rags, may pick up sweethearts of the same politeness: and there are none so lewd, so vile, or so indigent, of either sex, but at the time and place aforesaid, they may find a paramour. where the croud is the least, which, among the itinerants, is no where very thin, the mob is the rudest; and here, jostling one another, and kicking dirt about, are the most innocent pastimes. now you see a man, without provocation, push his companion in the kennel; and two minutes after, the sufferer trip up the other's heels, and the first aggressor lies rolling in the more solid mire: and he is the prettiest fellow among them, who is the least shock'd at nastiness, and the most boisterous in his sports. no modern rabble can long subsist without their darling cordial, the grand preservative of sloth, _jeneva_, that infallible antidote against care and frugal reflexion; which, being repeated removes all pain of sober thought, and in a little time cures the tormenting sense of the most pressing necessities. the traders, who vent it among the mob on these occasions, are commonly the worst of both sexes, but most of them weather-beaten fellows, that have mis-spent their youth. here stands an old sloven, in a wig actually putrify'd, squeez'd up in a corner, and recommends a dram of it to the goers-by: there another in rags, with several bottles in a basket, stirs about with it, where the throng is the thinnest, and tears his throat with crying his commodity; and further off, you may see the head of a third, who has ventur'd in the middle of the current, and minds his business, as he is fluctuating in the irregular stream: whilst higher up, an old decrepit woman sits dreaming with it on a bulk; and over against her, in a soldier's coat, her termagant daughter sells the sots-comfort with great dispatch. the intelligible sounds, that are heard among them, are oaths and vile expressions, with wishes of damnation at every other word, pronounced promiscuously against themselves, or those they speak to, without the least alteration in the meaning. as these undisciplined armies have no particular enemies to encounter, but cleanliness and good manners, so nothing is more entertaining to them, than the dead carcasses of dogs and cats, or, for want of them, rags, and all trompery that is capable of imbibing dirt. these, well trampled in filth, and, if possible, of the worst sort, are, by the ringleaders, flung as high and as far as a strong arm can carry them, and commonly directed where the throng is the thickest: whilst these ill-boding meteors are shooting thro' the air, the joy and satisfaction of the beholders is visible in every countenance and gesture; and more audibly express'd by the great shouts that accompany them in their course; and, as the projectiles come nearer the earth, are turn'd into loud laughter, which is more or less violent in proportion to the mischief promis'd by the fall. and to see a good suit of cloaths spoiled by this piece of gallantry, is the tip-top of their diversion, which they seldom go home without enjoying: for tho' no people in their senses would venture among them on foot, in any tolerable dress, yet there are young rakes of fortune, who care not what they lavish, or destroy: of these the maddest sort will often, after a night's debauch, mix with crowds, and thrust themselves in the midst of the most abominable rabble, where they seldom fail of meeting with such adventures. tho' before setting out, the prisoners took care to swallow what they could, to be drunk, and stifle their fear; yet the courage that strong liquors can give, wears off, and the way they have to go being considerable, they are in danger of recovering, and, without repeating the dose, sobriety would often overtake them: for this reason they must drink as they go; and the cart stops for that purpose three or four, and sometimes half a dozen times, or more, before they come to their journey's end. these halts always encrease the numbers about the criminals; and more prodigiously, when they are very notorious rogues. the whole march, with every incident of it, seems to be contrived on purpose, to take off and divert the thoughts of the condemned from the only thing that should employ them. thousands are pressing to mind the looks of them. their _quondam_ companions, more eager than others, break through all obstacles to take leave: and here you may see young villains, that are proud of being so, (if they knew any of the malefactors,) tear the cloaths off their backs, by squeezing and creeping thro' the legs of men and horses, to shake hands with him; and not to lose, before so much company, the reputation there is in having had such a valuable acquaintance. it is incredible what a scene of confusion all this often makes, which yet grows worse near the gallows; and the violent efforts of the most sturdy and resolute of the mob on one side, and the potent endeavours of rugged goalers, and others, to beat them off, on the other; the terrible blows that are struck, the heads that are broke, the pieces of swingeing sticks, and blood, that fly about, the men that are knock'd down and trampled upon, are beyond imagination, whilst the dissonance of voices, and the variety of outcries, for different reasons, that are heard there, together with the sound of more distant noises, make such a discord not to be parallel'd. if we consider, besides all this, the mean equipages of the sheriffs officers, and the scrubby horses that compose the cavalcade, the irregularity of the march, and the want of order among all the attendants, we shall be forced to confess, that these processions are very void of that decent solemnity that would be required to make them awful. at the very place of execution, the most remarkable scene is a vast multitude on foot, intermixed with many horsemen and hackney-coaches, all very dirty, or else cover'd with dust, that are either abusing one another, or else staring at the prisoners, among whom there is commonly very little devotion; and in that, which is practis'd and dispatch'd there, of course, there is as little good sense as there is melody. it is possible that a man of extraordinary holiness, by anticipating the joys of heaven, might embrace a violent death in such raptures, as would dispose him to the singing of psalms: but to require this exercise, or expect it promiscuously of every wretch that comes to be hang'd, is as wild and extravagant as the performance of it is commonly frightful and impertinent: besides this, there is always at that place, such a mixture of oddnesses and hurry, that from what passes, the best dispos'd spectator seldom can pick out any thing that is edifying or moving. here i must observe, that the possibility of pardons and reprieves, that often come very late, and which, with or without grounds, most criminals continue to hope for, 'till they are hang'd, is another great clog, that keeps attach'd to the world those that are less abandon'd, and more relenting than the generality of them; and who, without that hindrance, would, in all probability, prepare themselves for certain death, which overtakes many whilst they are still doubting of it. the ordinary and executioner, having performed their different duties, with small ceremony, and equal concern, seem to be tired, and glad it is over. the tragedy being ended, the next entertainment is a squabble between the surgeons and the mob, about the dead bodies of the malefactors that are not to be hanged in chains. they have suffer'd the law, (cries the rabble,) and shall have no other barbarities put upon them: we know what you are, and will not leave them before we see them buried. if the others are numerous, and resolute enough to persist in their enterprize, a fray ensues: from whence i shall take an opportunity of saying something upon the occasion of it. i have no design that savours of cruelty, or even indecency, towards a human body; but shall endeavour to demonstrate, that the superstitious reverence of the vulgar for a corpse, even of a malefactor, and the strong aversion they have against dissecting them, are prejudicial to the publick; for as health and sound limbs are the most desirable of all temporal blessings, so we ought to encourage the improvement of physick and surgery, wherever it is in our power. the knowledge of anatomy is inseparable from the studies of either; and it is almost impossible for a man to understand the inside of our bodies, without having seen several of them skilfully dissected. kings and princes are open'd, and have their hearts and bowels taken out, and embalm'd. it is not then ignominious, much less offensive to the dead body, which may be interred with as much decency, after dissection, as if it never had been touch'd. but suppose that many of our common thieves were not to be buried at all, and some of them made skeletons; and that several parts of others, variously prepared, should be preserved for the instruction of students? what if it was a disgrace to the surviving relations of those, who had lectures read upon their bodies, and were made use of for anatomical preparations? the dishonour would seldom reach beyond the scum of the people; and to be dissected, can never be a greater scandal than being hanged. the university of _leyden_ in _holland_ have a power given them by the legislature to demand, for this purpose, the bodies of ordinary rogues executed within that province; but, with us, it is the general complaint of all professors of anatomy, that they can get none to dissect: where then shall we find a readier supply; and what degree of people are fitter for it than those i have named? when persons of no possessions of their own, that have slipp'd no opportunity of wronging whomever they could, die without restitution, indebted to the publick, ought not the injur'd publick to have a title to, and the disposal of, what the others have left? and is any thing more reasonable, than that they should enjoy that right, especially when they only make use of it for commendable purposes? what is done for the common good, every member of the society may, at one time or other, receive an advantage from; and therefore quarrelsome people, that love fighting, act very preposterously and inconsistent with their interest, when they venture to have their bones broke, for endeavouring to deprive surgeons of the means to understand the structure of them. chap. iv. _of the wrong judgments that are pass'd on the dying behaviour of malefactors._ having finish'd the picture i proposed to draw of modern executions, and the crowds that usually attend them, i shall make some remarks on the judgments that are commonly passed on the dying behaviour of our ordinary felons. in a rich and potent kingdom, where worldly glory is not in contempt, and to think meanly of our selves seldom taught by example, whatever it may be by precept, nothing is counted more provoking, or less to be born with patience, than to be called a coward. the vilest rogues, and most despicable villains, may own a thousand crimes, and often brag of the most abominable actions; but there is scarce one, who will confess that he has no courage. our general esteem for valour, which is demonstrable from what i have said, as it is of great use to a warlike nation, is very commendable; and fortitude ought ever to keep its place amongst the cardinal virtues: but the notions which the vulgar have of courage, as well as honour and shame, are full of dangerous errors. compliments, as well as reproaches, when ill applied, are often the causes of great mischief; and i am persuaded, that the perverseness of opinion now reigning amongst us, both in applauding and discommending the conduct of criminals in their last hours, is an accessary evil, that very much contributes to what is the subject of our grand complaint, the frequency of executions. to explain my self on this matter in the clearest manner i am able, i beg leave to begin with it from the bottom. in all living creatures, that fall under our senses, we perceive an instinct of self-preservation; and the more sensible they are, the greater aversion they discover to the dissolution of their being. man, the most perfect of them, sets an inestimable value on life, and knows no fear equal to the horror he has against death. this is to be understood only of man, in the state of nature, before he has made reflections on himself, and what he sees of the creation; but when, after that his reason demonstrates to him that there must have been a first cause; that the world is govern'd by an intelligent being; that himself, a compound of soul and body, is indebted to that being for all he enjoys, and that there is a strong probability of a life after this: when, moreover, he considers himself as incorporated in a community of vast numbers, that all together make one body politick, the welfare of which he finds universally esteemed, as a concern superior to all others: when, i say, he finds and reflects on all this, he plainly sees, that the fear of death, must, on many accounts, be prejudicial to the publick good and common security, in which he has a share. it is a virtue then to conquer it; and if we inspect into the early oeconomy of all nations, we shall find, that the most powerful motives made use of to induce man to lessen this fear, and moderate the fondness which nature has given us of life, had their origin from religion, or a publick spirit; that is, in other words, from a representation of his duty either to god or his country. thus holy martyrs have suffer'd with fortitude for their faith, and, in confidence of eternal happiness, hasten'd to death with alacrity, and even rejoiced in the midst of flames. and thus there have been valiant men, in all ages, that have exposed themselves to the greatest hazards, in defence of their laws and liberties, and, animated by a zealous love for their country, sacrific'd their lives to the publick welfare. as men of this sort have every where deservedly gained the general applause, and the virtue they are possess'd of has been honoured by the name of courage; so, on the contrary, the fearful and pusillanimous, that ever prefer their own safety to all other considerations, and are therefore never to be relied upon, are as justly despis'd, and the ignominious word, by which we reproach the vice that enslaves them, is cowardice. from what has been said it is evident, that the original reason why courage is generally esteemed, is, because it is taken for granted, that both the principle we act from, and the end we labour for in conquering our fears, are praise-worthy, and have a visible tendency, either to the good of others, or our own spiritual felicity. nothing, therefore, is more unjust, than that we should continue our esteem for valour when it degenerates, and both the motive men set out with, and the scope they aim at, are palpably destructive. anger, pride, envy, and several other passions, are capable of subduing fear. but, as these principles are evil in themselves, so it is impossible that the end to be obtain'd by them should be commendable. what perverse and miserable judges are we then, that applaud a person's intrepidity in fighting a duel, when in the act itself, we see him willfully violate the laws of god and man? but should human honour here break in upon me, and my reasoning, how right soever, be overpower'd by the irresistable clamour of the fashionable world, what can be said for the senseless intimidity of a vulgar rogue, who not only professes an utter disregard to honour and conscience, but has likewise, at his first setting out, as a preliminary to his business, disclaim'd all pretences to common honesty? why should we delight in the intrepidity, tho' it was real, of a villain in his impiety? why should christians be pleased to see a great sinner give up his ghost impenitent; or imagine that he dies bravely, because he bids defiance to heaven, and boldly plunges himself into an abyss of eternal misery? yet nothing is more common amongst us: and the further a man is removed from repentance, nay, the more void he seems to be of all religion, and the less concern he discovers for futurity, the more he is admired by our sprightly people: whereas, he who shews but the least sorrow for his sins, or, by his tears, or dismality of gestures, lets us know that he is under apprehensions of the divine wrath, is a weak silly creature, not worth looking at: and he only, in the opinion of many, dies like a man, who, in reality, goes off most like a brute. but some of my readers, perhaps, will have nothing to do with christianity. suppose, then, we lay by that consideration; i grant, that to subdue the terrors of death is a manifest token of intrepidity, and promise to pay homage to true courage wheresoever i can meet with it; only let us not be imposed upon, but try the valour of this undaunted hero, whether it be genuine. no man can conquer the fear of death, but by something superior to it: what is the power that supports him in the conflict, and what principle does he act from? it is not his innocence, for his guilt is publick, and his crimes are proved upon him. it is not zeal for religion, nor the love of his country: he pretends to neither. yet it must be some mighty principle of vast force and efficacy; for if he acts consistently, he despises not only death, but the wrath of omnipotence, and a punishment just at hand, that shall be everlasting. will you say that he firmly believes that there is no god, nor life after this, and that man is wholly mortal? suppose it; that's no support against death itself: but look narrowly into him, and you will alter your opinion, even as to that. the enthusiasm of atheists has other symptoms; deplorable as it is, the appearance of it is more sedate, and they make some pretences to reasoning: but what probability is there, that a poor rascal, who was brought up in ignorance, and perhaps cannot read, one who never troubled his head with thinking, much less with thinking on abstruse matters, and metaphysicks, should so far lose himself in the mazes of philosophy, as to become a speculative atheist. since, then, we can find no principle from which it is possible a common villain should derive his undauntedness, it is evident that what we see is spurious, and the bravery we admire only counterfeited, and false at bottom. the terror of death inwardly excruciates him; but his fear of shewing this, of being called a coward, and laugh'd at by his companions, has some command over his outward appearance; therefore, (not to be found out,) sometimes he swears or scoffs at religion; at others he mixes forc'd laughter with the vilest language, and trys all the strength of brutality to keep down a struggling conscience, and appear more atheistical and obdurate than, to his sorrow, he feels himself to be. but his impudence would soon fail him, and his inexhaustible stock be but a weak match for the agonies he suffers, if he took not refuge in strong liquors. these are his only support, and drunkenness the cause of his intrepidity. should i be told, that in many of them no signs are seen either of fear or ebriety, it would be of no force against my assertion: as great fear sinks, so hard drinking raises the spirits: they are two enemies, that, when equally match'd, may, by mutual conflict, easily disarm and hinder the operations or each other. let a curious observer mind the continual changes of the prisoner's unsettled behaviour, the wild manner of his actions, and, above all, the greedy haste, with which he throws down every thing potable and intoxicating, and he will soon perceive that our sham-hero drinks neither with comfort, nor for pleasure, and seems to expect no other benefit from it, than that it may take away his senses, and hinder him from thinking. are not they fine judges, who are imposed upon by such pusillanimous wretches, that are so far from having conquer'd the fear of death, that they go out of the world without having ever dared one moment soberly to think of it; and of whom it can only be said, that they died hard and unmov'd, because they were senseless, and with the courage of a stone suffer'd themselves, without thought, to drop into eternity? the mischief that these patterns of impenitence, together with the applause that is given them, must produce in a vast and opulent city, will appear from the following consideration. it is necessary to the publick peace and security, that burglary, robbing in the streets, or on the highway, and all those crimes where violence is mix'd with injustice, should be capitally punish'd: but considering on the one hand, how much more prone men are to ease and pleasure, than they are to industry and labour; and, on the other, the generality of human wants, and the unequal distributions of fortune to supply them, it must be acknowledg'd, that where men are without shame and education, and consequently not affected with the ties either of honour or religion, poverty itself is a strong temptation to thieving, when opportunities offer. the greatest charity, therefore, and compassion we can shew to our fellow-creatures, is an extraordinary severity, and never-ceasing watchfulness in a government against the first approaches of dishonesty. it is with this view that the provision of the legislature, that such offenders should be punish'd with death, is to be vindicated; tho' the punishment is greater than the laws, framed by god himself for the _jewish_ commonwealth, inflicted; or what natural justice, proportioning the punishment to the crime, seems to require: for it is not the death of those poor souls that is chiefly aim'd at in executions, but the terror we would have it strike in others of the same loose principles: and, for the same reason, these executions are little better than barbarity, and sporting away the lives of the indigent vulgar, if those valuable sacrifices we are obliged to make to the publick safety, are render'd insignificant. if no remedy can be found for these evils, it would be better that malefactors should be put to death in private; for our publick executions are become decoys, that draw in the necessitous, and, in effect, as cruel as frequent pardons; instead of giving warning, they are examplary the wrong way, and encourage where they should deter. the small concern, and seeming indolence of the condemn'd, harden the profligates that behold them, and confirm to them, by ocular demonstration, what they encourage one another with in viler language, (low, as it is, permit me to mention it,) _that there is nothing in being hang'd, but awry neck, and a wet pair of breeches._ chap. v. _of regulations concerning_ felons _in prison, and the good effects to be expected from them._ what has been said in the foregoing chapters, in relation to common _felons_, has pointed at the evil customs, mismanagements, and perverse opinions, that prevail amongst us. i shall now conclude what i proposed to publish on this subject with offering some proposals towards a better usage of them in prison; and the good effect such alterations, in all probability, would produce. all which, without arrogance or presumption, i submit to better judgment. _first_, i would have every one of the malefactors lock'd up by himself; and they should never be suffer'd to converse together. it would not be a very great expence (where chimneys, convenient windows, order, and beauty would be out of the question:) to build an hundred small rooms, perhaps, of twelve foot square, that would be strong, beyond the possibility of being forced by naked hands; and, to prevent all hopes of breaking goal, i would have it a custom made, to search, suspected or not, all prisoners, and the places they are in, every night before bed-time. the rooms i speak of, i would rather have obscure, than otherwise; and the small light they had, far beyond reach. they, should all have such conveniences, that those, who were shut up in them, should, during their stay, have no occasion to stir out of them on any account. thus we might secure prisoners, without galling them with irons, before we are sure that they deserve to be punish'd at all. _secondly_, i would have a law made, to fix a certain number of days, after which the condemned should not have the benefit of pardons or reprieves, tho' they might be obtain'd. this time elaps'd, they should have one day to bid farewell to friends and relations: after which, they should have three times four and twenty hours allow'd them, for no other purpose, than to make their peace with heaven, and prepare themselves for death. during this time, they should be inaccessible to all but a sober keeper, to take care of them, and a clergyman, to assist them in spirituals. and here i beg leave to observe, that men of reputation, who live in credit, and by their learning, or exemplary lives, have acquired the publick esteem, are fitter for this task, than others of small parts, and no repute; that, labouring under narrow circumstances, for a poor salary, and some miserable perquisites, take upon them this weighty province, as a livelihood and business, to be constantly follow'd. the more respect and reverence are paid to divines, and the higher their dignity is, the greater opportunity they have of making themselves serviceable in every branch of their function, but more especially that part of it now under consideration. in other protestant countries, beyond sea, the ministers of the national church perform this office, either by turns, or as the criminal, and sometimes the magistrate, desire it. in most employments use makes perfectness, but here it incapacitates: and was a man, even of the greatest prudence and watchfulness over himself, always to converse with rogues, and do nothing else but instruct and attend malefactors in their last hours, the very habit he would contract from it, would spoil him for that purpose: and it is impossible, but constant practice wou'd, in a little time, wear out, or at least take off the greatest part of that earnestness and concern, which ought to be inseparable from the charge i speak of. the greater provision we made for the souls and future happiness of these short-liv'd sinners, the less indulgence we should have for their bodies and sensual appetites: and i would have it strictly observed, that from the moment their death was fixed, 'till their execution, they should receive nothing for sustenance but bread and water; and of either what they would. i would, moreover, have it enacted, that every year a certain number of dead bodies, not under six, should be allowed to physicians and surgeons, for anatomical uses, not to be made choice of till after death, in such a manner, that no felon could be sure this would not be his lot. if they should complain, that the miserable diet they were confined to, was a severity that disturbed their thoughts, and hinder'd their devotion, it would be a sign, that their minds were not yet turned the right way: but this grievance, a short time and necessity will never fail to cure. the harsher that article may seem, the more efficacy it would be of, in deterring rogues from mischief: for i do not doubt but most of them would look upon the wholsome regulations in prison here mentioned, as the most considerable part of the punishment they were to suffer; though, i confess, that what i have in view by this low diet, chiefly regards the eternal welfare of those unhappy people, as it would be instrumental to an early repentance. when, free from fumes of food, and all intoxicating comforts, the serious thoughts of a criminal shall be obliged to dwell upon his wretched self, and behold the prospect of a future state so near, so certainly to come, the loosest and most abandon'd will be brought to reason. death being unavoidable, and nothing upon earth to save him, self-defence will make him turn his eyes elsewhere: his continued abstinence will help to clear his understanding; then searching after truth, he will be soon convinced of the folly and weakness of those arguments, by which he had been used to harden his conscience, keep out remorse, and fortify his steadiness in guilt. when a man thus wean'd from the world, and all the hopes of life, should be drawn forth from his dark and solitary dungeon, once more enjoy the open air, and see himself exposed to gazing multitudes, there met on purpose to feed their curiosity at his expence; when the paleness of his countenance, and the shaking of every limb, should, without disguise, reveal the motions of his heart; and his spirits neither confounded, nor buoy'd up by inebriating liquors, should discover their real condition and incapacity to uphold their trembling tenement; the spectacle would be awful, and strike the hearts of the beholders: when seated on the ignominious cart, by his restless posture, the distortion of his features, and the continual wringing of his hands, he should disclose his woe within, and the utmost depth of sorrow: when we should hear his shrill cries and sad complaints interrupted with bitter sobs and anxious groans, and now and then, at sudden starts, see floods of tears gushing from his distracted eyes, how thoroughly would the concurrence of so many strong evidences convince us of the pangs, the amazing horror, and unspeakable agonies of his excruciated soul! common stubbornness and stupidity could not be proof against all this; and the licentious rabble of both sexes, that make now the most considerable part of those dismal processions, would not attend in such tumultuous crowds. few profligates would be able to stand the shock of sounds and actions so really tragical: many would run away for fear of rouzing the lion kept chain'd within, and waking a guilty conscience from the lethargy they have thrown it in with so much labour. they would not follow long to behold a scene so little to their purpose; and whatever multitudes of them might set out with these penitents, they would drop off, and dwindle away by degrees; even the most obdurate would sicken at such a sight, and turning from it to less displeasing objects, seek after more suitable diversions. the absence of so many rake-hells, that only take delight in mischief, would render these tragedies more solemn, and, at the same time, make room for spectators of a better sort, and lesser sinners, on whom, in all probability, they would have a more desirable effect. it is not to be express'd, what lasting and useful impressions such shews would make: many that are conscious of their frailty, and the small power they have of conquering their passions, would take an opportunity from them of adoring the divine mercy, for having preserved them hitherto from falling into such crimes; even the voluptuous, that in the enjoyment of youth and vigour, are enamour'd with life for the sake of pleasure, would be startled at them, and thank god that this was not their case; and several by the fear of death only, become more serious and reflecting. thus much we should gain, at least, in behalf of religion, from every execution, even of the most sorry felons, who, void of sense and goodness, only grieve because they are to die, and go they know not where: but it is more than probable, that some of them would become good christians, and make exemplary ends. when the condemn'd should, in every respect, receive the treatment i have requir'd, and by this means, undisturb'd by earthly cares, have leisure, in sober sadness, to review their past life, and examine into the multitude, as well as enormity of their offences; then, after thorough contrition, and an open confession in behalf of justice, animated by faith, betake to constant prayer; we ought to believe that thus exerting themselves in the work of salvation, by the good guidance of able divines, and their own unwearied endeavours, many of them would find favour in the sight of the almighty; and that several, even as they went to death, would be regenerated, and comforted from above with a strong assurance of forgiveness. what a visible alteration would it not make in them, when they should perceive their spirits, that the moment before were overwhelm'd with grief, or fill'd with black despair, cherish'd and enlighten'd by the powerful beams of heavenly grace and clemency: transported with the prospect of approaching bliss they then would wish to die, and rejoice that they should be made examples to frighten evil-doers from their ways. but when they should consider, what acts of devotion and unfeigned piety, what works of superlative charity would be necessary, if they were to live, to atone for the heinous crimes and manifold transgressions they had been guilty of against god and their neighbour, how would it rouze their souls, and how eager would it not render them, in the most profitable manner, to spend the small remains of life! sometimes they would deter the wicked and in the same breath solicite heaven for their conversion: at others, reasoning from the changes they had experienced within, they would combat impiety with vehemence, and conjure unbelievers no longer to doubt of an everlasting futurity: they would paint to them, in the strongest colours, the horrors they had felt from an accusing conscience, and the abyss of misery they had been plunged in, whilst yet labouring under the dire reflection on eternal vengeance; and thus, mixing fervent prayers with strenuous exhortation, they would employ the few moments, that were left them, in exercises intirely spiritual and holy. how such conversions would affect the minds of all that saw or heard them, cannot be better imagin'd than by examining our selves. when we had seen an half-starv'd wretch, that look'd like death, come shivering from his prison, and hardly able to speak or stand, get with difficulty on the slow uncomfortable carriage; where, at the first rumbling of it, he should begin to weep, and as he went, dissolve in tears, and lose himself in incoherent lamentations, it would move us to compassion. but with what astonishment would it not fill us, to behold the same creature, near the fatal tree, become lively, glow with zeal, and, in strength of voice and action, excell the most vigorous preachers! all this we might expect; and that those of wit and genius, as certainly there are among them, would often light on new and convincing arguments to warn the sinner: nay, some of them prove stupendious orators, that would not only spread amazement all around them, but likewise find uncommon ways to reach the heart with violence, and force repentance on their hearers. it is stupidity to doubt the vast use such executions would be of, to compass happiness both here and hereafter; and should we regard the first only, it would be no exaggeration to assert, that one of them would be more serviceable to the peace and security of this immense city, than a thousand of those that are now so frequent among us. chap. vi. _of_ transportation: _and a method to render that punishment more effectual._ when i concluded the last, i thought not to have tired the reader any longer with the subject of malefactors: but it has been remonstated to me since, that what i had wrote, would seem very defective, and this treatise be, in reality, imperfect, if i said nothing of transportation; which, for some years last past, on many occasions, has been substituted, and inflicted in the room of capital punishment; and having, at the same time, been furnish'd with a hint concerning this affair, that may be of admirable use, i cannot forbear imparting it to the publick. there is no doubt but the design of transporting felons, instead of hanging them, when their crimes were not very enormous, was just and commendable, and it was reasonable to expect that it would have proved a powerful remedy against the grand evil i have all along complain'd of, and which has been so often repeated. but our subtle criminals have found out means hitherto to render it ineffectual: some have made their escape in the voyage itself; others, condemn'd to this punishment, never have been put on board; several have reach'd the plantations, but been return'd again by the first shipping, and great numbers have been come back before half their time was expir'd. those that are forced to stay, do very little service themselves, and spoil the other slaves, teaching the _africans_ more villany and mischief than ever they could have learn'd without the examples and instructions of such _europeans_. we have loud complaints from all the islands, that we send such numbers, and they know not what to do with them. as they come from _england_, and are to serve _english_ men, their colour, as well as country and language, plead for them; and the masters that complain of them, are to blame themselves for treating them with less severity than they do the innocent, as well as unfortunate blacks, and more remisly than they ought, if they consider'd that these country men of theirs are sent thither on purpose to work, and are condemn'd to hard labour, as a punishment for their crimes. the mild usage our felons receive beyond sea, and the many examples of such as come back before their time, with impunity, have quite destroy'd the end which transportation was design'd for. the criminals have no dread against it, remain as they were themselves, and do no service to others. to redress this, there is an expedient that may immediately be put into practice, and is, to my thinking, every way unexceptionable; for it would effectually prevent the returning of the felons, make them serviceable in the most extraordinary manner, and, at the same time, be terrible beyond expression. the use i would put them to is, the redemption of slaves, that in _morocco_, as well as _tunis_, _algiers_, and other places on the coast of _barbary_, groan under a miserable servitude. should it be objected, that such abandon'd people would turn mahometans, and our selves become accessary to their eternal ruin, i would ask what surety we had for those that were there already. amongst our seafaring men, the practice of piety is very scarce: abundance of them lead very bad lives, who yet, as to the love of their country, and the _meum & tuum_, are very honest fellows. there are not many that are well grounded in the principles of their religion, or would be capable of maintaining it against an adversary of the least ability; and we are not certain, that under great temptations, they would remain stedfast to the christian faith. the danger then of apostacy being the same in both, we must be manifestly the gainers, when we change lazy cowardly thieves, and incorrigible rogues for brave, laborious, and useful people. it would be no difficult matter to enter into negotiations with the several powers of _barbary_ for this purpose; neither is it reasonable to imagine, that they would scruple to take our felons on account of the bad lives they had led, or refuse any for their impudence, wickedness, or aversion to labour. they consider and manage their slaves as we do our cattle; and it is their age, their health, the soundness of their limbs, and their strength, they examine into, with little regard to their temper or their morals: they are ever watchful over them, without trusting to their honesty, or expecting any voluntary obedience from them. if bought servants are able, masters there have sure ways to make them work. they laugh at stubborness and refractory spirits, and their steady severity is a sovereign remedy against sloth, and all other failings of the will: from all which it is highly probable, that a barbarian would be glad to change an elderly honest man, pretty well worn, and above fifty, for a sturdy house-breaker of five and twenty: and as to those that might be pretty equal, as to years and abilities, what if we should give them three for two, or two for one? i am sure we could be no losers. those likewise that are known to be in quality superior to common sailors, might be redeem'd by still a greater number of felons; or, at the worst, they could be no sufferers by the exchanges of the others. what i am speaking of, i confess would be a very severe punishment for felony; but i cannot imagine, how we can think on the rigour of it, without reflecting, at the same time, on the inhumanity we are guilty of in the small concern we often shew, for many years, for the captivity of those who have deserv'd no punishment at all. the greater the calamities are of that cruel bondage, the more reasonable it is, that the guilty should suffer it rather than the innocent. it is unpardonable not to deliver from the yoke of infidels, when it is in our power, our fellow subjects, whom we have no complaint against. when sufficient sums cannot be rais'd to redeem them with money, what should hinder us from doing it at the expence of miscreants, whom it is injustice not to punish, and who, out of chains, cannot be otherwise than noxious to the publick? if this be duly weigh'd, i doubt not, but what, at first, seems to be the greatest objection to this proposal, would, on further reflection, be found an unanswerable argument why we should embrace it. there would likewise be room always, with fresh supplies of felons, to release those, who might be cured, or, at least, thought to have been sufficiently punish'd; and, to prevent all tricks and escapes, this service might be perform'd by men of war instead of merchant men, or transports. this effectual manner of transportation, as felons are treated, and things are managed now, would be more dreadful than hanging, whilst it was only talk'd of; but when it came to the push, and criminals came near, and under the gallows, there would be very few, if they were sober enough to think at all, that, before the cart drove away, would not change their minds, put off the evil hour if they could, and chuse slavery, or any thing else, to avoid immediate death. but then, if the regulations i have offer'd in the foregoing chapter were likewise to be put in practice, the forc'd abstinence, and unavoidable sobriety in prison, with the other preparations before detail, and the journey from _newgate_ to _tyburn_, without hopes of pardon or reprieve, would strike great terror even at a distance; by which means, the thoughts of either would be insupportable, and there would be no great purchase in the choice. the horror loose people would conceive against such proceedings, would be of inestimable consequence to the nation, and thousands that are yet unborn would, deterr'd by the rigour of those laws, turn their hands to honest labour, and die in their beds in their own country, that without them, and things remaining as they are, will either be hanged, or transported long before the end of this century. but if what i propose should not lessen the number of felons so much as ought to be expected, it would clear us at least from the blame of not having endeavoured it; and from transportation we should have the satisfaction, that the kingdom would not lose so many inhabitants by it as it does now, though the same numbers were sent abroad. but, what is infinitely more valuable, that punishment likewise would rid without slaughter, or probability of return, the country of the vermin of society, that, perpetually nibbling at our property, destroy the comforts of secure and undisturb'd possession, at the same time that it would furnish us with an opportunity of performing the most charitable action in the world; for such i will not scruple to call the redeeming and restoring to their friends, without their cost, industrious mariners, that lost their liberties, and became sufferers in an honest calling, and were led into dreadful captivity by infidels, whilst, in promoting the interest of commerce and navigation, they were labouring for the safety, the wealth, and glory of their country. i shall be told by some of my readers, that they are ready to contribute to the redemption of unfortunate captives with their purses; but that among christians, free-born subjects ought never to be made slaves for any reason, or at any rate whatever. but this is a singularity peculiar to _englishmen_, more built on an excess of good-nature, than any sound reason. _france_ and _spain_ make use of malefactors in their gallies, and the _hugonots_ of the first would never have complained of that punishment, had it never been inflicted on any but thieves and villains. but these are _roman_ catholick countries, and arbitrary kingdoms: of _holland_ you can say neither, and yet the great cities of it have all work-houses for criminals. at _amsterdam_ there is one, where felons are kept constantly employ'd in rasping of _brasil_ wood: to earn at this as much as they spend is not to be done without excessive labour, though they fare as hard as they work; yet they are obliged to get more than their maintenance costs considerably. they have a task set them, which if they do not perform, the neglect of their hands is reveng'd on their bellies; and they are stinted in their allowance in proportion to the deficiency. in this place a very strict hand is kept over them; no offences are left unpunished, and they are often drubb'd even for ill language. the periods of time, for which felons are condemned to this rasp-house, are vastly different, according as their great crimes, or slighter trespasses deserve this tuition, and themselves are young or old offenders, and judged to be more or less incorrigible, from six weeks to ninety nine years. these are not called slaves; but such is their abode, their diet, and their discipline, that of those who were to be confined there for any considerable number of years, i don't believe there ever was one who would not have thought it a glorious preferment, if, instead of it, he might have taken his chance, and been sold for a slave in _turky_. we have, i own, no open enemies in _africk_ more than any where else at present; and our most gracious sovereign has, by his clemency and powerful influence over the emperor of _morocco_, procured liberty to those of his subjects that had been taken in _english_ ships: but it is wrong from thence to infer, that there are no slaves in _turky_ of the _british_ nation. among those that are brought up to the sea, there are many, that, by several accidents, are left ashore in foreign parts, and are necessitated to enter themselves on any ships they can meet with. if this be done in time of peace, and when they are not summoned to serve their own country, they are guilty of no fault. but as all mariners, as well as soldiers, share the fate of those on whose side they engage, so many of our sailors are slaves in _turky_, that were taken in _french_, _dutch_, and other ships, and are consequently not reclaimable by any treaty made with _great britain_. tho' these might not deserve the same regard altogether with those that were taken in ships of the _british_ nation; yet, as they are our countrymen, and have committed no crime, their redemption ought not to be deferred one moment, if they might be had in exchange for others, whom we have judged not worthy to live amongst us. besides, as we are at peace now with all those rovers, so half a year hence, some or other of them may fall out with us; their friendship is not much to be depended upon: let the provision but be made, and felons kept at hard labour, and under strict discipline at home, till they are wanted abroad, and we shall find, that the institution it self, the very name of it, will be of vast use, before the thing itself is put into practice. _finis._ footnote: [footnote : _this was wrote some months before_ jonathan wild _was apprehended_.] the augustan reprint society _publications in print_ = - = . nevil payne's _fatal jealousy_ ( ). . nicholas rowe's _some account of the life of mr. william shakespeare_ ( ). . "of genius," in _the occasional paper_, vol. iii, no. ( ); and aaron hill's preface to _the creation_ ( ). = - = . samuel johnson's _the vanity of human wishes_ ( ) and _two rambler_ papers ( ). . john dryden's _his majesties declaration defended_ ( ). = - = . charles macklin's _the man of the world_ ( ). = - = . thomas gray's _an elegy wrote in a country church yard_ ( ); and _the eton college manuscript_. = - = . bernard mandeville's _a letter to dion_ ( ). = - = . john robert scott's _dissertation on the progress of the fine arts_. ( ). = - = . two st. cecilia's day sermons ( - ). . lewis maidwell's _an essay upon the necessity and excellency of education_ ( ). . pappity stampoy's _a collection of scotch proverbs_ ( ). = - = . john joyne, _a journal_ ( ) . andré dacier, _preface to aristotle's art of poetry_ ( ). = - = . [p. whalley's] _an essay on the manner of writing history_ ( ). . _sawney and colley ( ) and other pope pamphlets._ . richard savage's _an author to be lett_ ( ). = - = - . _essays on the theatre from eighteenth-century periodicals._ . daniel defoe, _of captain mission and his crew_ ( ). . henry needler, _works_ ( ). = - = . john norris, _cursory reflections upon a book call'd. an essay concerning human understanding_ ( ). . an collins, _divine songs and meditacions_ ( ). . _an essay on the new species of writing founded by mr. fielding_ ( ). . _hanoverian ballads._ = - = . myles davies, _athenae britannicae_ ( - ). . _select hymns taken out of mr. herbert's temple_ ( ). . thomas augustine arne, _artaxerxes_ ( ). . simon patrick, _a brief account of the new sect of latitude-men_ ( ). - . richard hurd, _letters on chivalry and romance_ ( ). william andrews clark memorial library: university of california, los angeles the augustan reprint society general editors r. c. boys university of michigan maximillian e. novak university of california, los angeles earl miner university of california, los angeles lawrence clark powell wm. andrews clark memorial library _corresponding secretary_: mrs. edna c. davis, wm. andrews clark memorial library the society's purpose is to publish reprints (usually facsimile reproductions) of rare seventeenth and eighteenth century works. all income of the society is devoted to defraying costs of publication and mailing. correspondence concerning subscriptions in the united states and canada should be addressed to the william andrews clark memorial library, west adams boulevard, los angeles, california. correspondence concerning editorial matters may be addressed to any of the general editors. the membership fee is $ . a year for subscribers in the united states and canada and /- for subscribers in great britain and europe. british and european subscribers should address b. h. blackwell, broad street, oxford, england. copies of back issues in print may be obtained from the corresponding secretary. the publications for - are in part subsidized by funds generously given to the society in memory of the late professor edward n. hooker, one of its co-founders. publications for - samuel richardson, _clarissa_: preface, hints of prefaces, and postscript. introduction by r. f. brissenden. thomas d'urfey, _wonders in the sun, or the kingdom of the birds_ ( ). introduction by william w. appleton. daniel defoe, _a brief history of the poor palatine refugees_ ( ). introduction by john robert moore. bernard mandeville, _an enquiry into the causes of the frequent executions at tyburn_ ( ). introduction by malvin r. zirker, jr. john oldmixon, _an essay on criticism_ ( ). introduction by r. j. madden, c.s.b. the augustan reprint society william andrews clark memorial library west adams boulevard, los angeles, california make check or money order payable to the regents of the university of california. none _the olden-time series._ mo. per vol., cents. there appears to be, from year to year, a growing popular taste for quaint and curious reminiscences of "ye olden time," and to meet this, mr. henry m. brooks has prepared a series of interesting handbooks. the materials have been gleaned chiefly from old newspapers of boston and salem, sources not easily accessible, and while not professing to be history, the volumes contain much material for history, so combined and presented as to be both amusing and instructive. the titles of some of the volumes indicate their scope and their promise of entertainment:-- curiosities of the old lottery. days of the spinning-wheel. some strange and curious punishments. quaint and curious advertisements. literary curiosities. new-england sunday, etc. "it has been the good fortune of the writer to be allowed a peep at the manuscript for this series, and he can assure the lovers of the historical and the quaint in literature that something both valuable and pleasant is in store for them. in the specialties treated of in these books mr. brooks has been for many years a careful collector and student, and it is gratifying to learn that the material is to be committed to book form."--_salem gazette._ _for sale by all booksellers. sent, post-paid, upon receipt of price. catalogues of our books mailed free._ ticknor & co., boston. the olden time series some strange and curious punishments _yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow for others' good, and melt at others' woe._ pope: odyssey. _but hushed be every thought that springs from out the bitterness of things._ wordsworth. the olden time series. gleanings chiefly from old newspapers of boston and salem, massachusetts selected and arranged, with brief comments by henry m. brooks some strange and curious punishments "old and new make the warp and woof of every moment. there is no thread that is not a twist of these two strands. by necessity, by proclivity, and by delight, we all quote."--emerson boston ticknor and company _copyright, _, by ticknor and company. _all rights reserved._ university press: john wilson and son, cambridge. punishments mentioned. page arrest of the dead back "dress'd" banished books burned , bound and chained branded with a hot iron , , burned cleft stick put on tongue confined at castle island , ears cropped , , eating one's own words executed (of frequent mention). fine and imprisonment (of frequent mention). gagged and dipped or ducked (of frequent mention). hung in chains , imprisonment for debt , in the bilboes in the pillory (of frequent mention). in the stocks in the stocks on lecture-day "kissing the yssrow" limits of the jail , paper on the breast with the word _cheat_ prisoners sold , , , , prosecution against animals sent back to england sent to castle island to make nails sewed up in bed-clothes and thrashed tied neck and heels and thrown into a pond tied to a gun and whipped tied to a tree and chastised tongue bored with a hot iron tread-mill to upon the gallows with rope about the neck (of frequent mention). whipped at the cart's tail , whipping-post (of frequent mention). some strange and curious punishments. ------------------------- in the month of january, , "joseph bennett, john jenkins, owen mccarty, and john wright were publickly whipt at the cart's tail thro' the city of new york for petty larceny,"--so the newspaper account states,--"pursuant to sentence inflicted on them by the court of quarter sessions held last week for the trial of robbers," etc. in march the same year "one andrew cayto received stripes at the public whipping post" in boston "for house-robbing; viz., for robbing one house, and for robbing another." in "jeremiah dexter, of walpole, pursuant to sentence, stood in the pillory in that town the space of one hour for uttering two counterfeit mill'd dollars, knowing them to be such." at ipswich, mass., june , , "one francis brown, for stealing a large quantity of goods, was found guilty, and it being the second conviction, he was sentenced by the court to sit on the gallows an hour with a rope about his neck, to be whipt stripes, and pay treble damages. he says he was born in lisbon, and has been a great thief." we extract the following from the "boston chronicle," nov. , :-- we hear from worcester that on the eighth instant one lindsay stood in the pillory there one hour, after which he received stripes at the public whipping post, and was then branded in the hand; his crime was forgery. lindsay was probably branded with the letter f, by means of a hot iron, on the palm of his right hand; this was the custom in such cases. in boston, in june, , "the noted dr. seth hudson and joshua how stood a second time in the pillory for the space of one hour, and the former received and the latter stripes." in the same town in february, , "one david powers for stealing was sentenced to be whip't stripes, to pay tripel damages, being £ , and costs. and one john gray, cordwainer, for endeavouring to spread the infection of the small pox, was sentenced to pay a fine of £ , to suffer three months' imprisonment, and to pay costs." in new york in january, , "a negro wench was executed for stealing sundry articles out of the house of mr. forbes; and one john douglass was burnt in the hand for stealing a copper kettle." in the last half of the eighteenth century it appears to have been a capital crime for negroes to steal. at springfield, mass., in october, , "one elnathan muggin was found guilty of passing counterfeit dollars, and sentenced to have his ears cropped," etc. on reading these quaint accounts we are led to inquire whether the punishment for crime in "olden times" was more severe than at the present time. many people think it was, and justly so, and argue that crime has consequently greatly increased of late years, on account of the lightness of modern sentences or the uncertainty about punishment. this may be true. crime is said to increase with population always. according to mr. buckle, it can be calculated with a considerable degree of accuracy. we can estimate, for instance, the probable number of murders which will take place in a year in a given number of inhabitants. whether this theory is true or not would require a vast amount of study and observation to determine. we know that population in our time crowds in cities; especially is this true of the classes most likely to furnish criminals. still, in spite of this, do not most of us feel that it has of late years been rather safer to reside in a city than in the country? consider the numbers of lawless and too often cruel tramps which have overrun the country towns and villages for a few years past, making it so unsafe for women to walk unattended in woods and highways, even in the quietest parts of new england, where once they could go with perfect safety alone and at all hours. no laws can be too severe against _cruel_ tramps. it has been affirmed that people who live in cities are in reality more moral than country people of the same class. is this state of things brought about by the infliction of light sentences, or is it caused by the increase among us of a bad foreign element? we have heard many serious and humane persons express themselves as in favor of a restoration of the whipping-post and stocks, really supposing that these things would lessen crime. but is it likely that the old methods of punishment would be considered by criminals themselves as severer than the present? let us see what some of the last century rogues thought about the matter. at a session of the supreme judicial court held at salem, mass., in december, , one james ray was sentenced, for stealing goods from the shop of captain john hathorne (a relative of nathaniel hawthorne), to sit upon the gallows with a rope about his neck for an hour, to be whipped with thirty-nine stripes, and to be confined to hard labor on castle island (boston harbor) for three years. "it is observable of this man," the account continues, "that he has been lately released from a two years' service at the castle, that during the trial he was very merry and impudent, and continued in the same humor while his sentence was reading, holding up his head and looking boldly at the court, till the three years' confinement was mentioned; when his countenance changed, his head dropped on his breast, and he fetched a deep groan,--an instance of how much more dreadful the idea of labor is to such villains than that of corporal punishment." at a session of the court of oyer and terminer held at norristown, pa., for the county of montgomery, oct. , , we are furnished with a case in point. "a bill was presented against philip hoosnagle for burglary, who was convicted by the traverse jury on the clearest testimony. he was, after a very pathetick and instructing admonition from the bench, sentenced to five years' hard labour, under the _new_ act of assembly. it was with some difficulty that this reprobate was prevailed upon to make the election of labour instead of the halter, ... a convincing proof," the report says, "that the punishments directed by the new law are more terrifying to idle vagabonds than all the horrors of an ignominious death." probably there are many more cases on record where criminals preferred death to imprisonment. burglary and forgery were once punished by death. we have all noticed on the old continental currency these words: "death to counterfeit this." on the th june, , samuel cook, in the eighty-fourth year of his age, was executed at johnstown, n.y., for forgery. on the th december, , william clarke was executed at northampton for burglary; the same day charles rose and jonathan bly were executed at lenox for robbery. on the th may, , at worcester, johnson green, indicted for three burglaries committed in one night within the space of about half a mile, was tried on one indictment, convicted, and received sentence of death. the papers contain numerous similar cases. it would be useless to enumerate them all; we give only a few in order to show what the punishment formerly awarded to these crimes really was. we do not, of course, know the circumstances attending all these cases; but robbery and burglary are usually premeditated, and the criminals are prepared to commit murder if it should be necessary for their purpose, so that we can have no sympathy with the perpetrators. our sympathy ought, we think, to go to the victims. ------------------------- old new england. early in the settlement of new england, as is pretty generally known, some of the laws and punishments were singular enough. a few extracts from felt's "annals of salem" may not be out of place here, as illustrating our subject:-- "in , dorothy talby, for beating her husband, is _ordered to be bound and chained to a post_." "in , the assistants order two salem men to _sit in the stocks, on lecture day_, for travelling on the sabbath." "in , mary, wife of thomas oliver, was sentenced _to be publickly whipped_ for reproaching the magistrates." "in august, , for slandering the elders, she had a _cleft stick put on her tongue for half an hour_." felt says: "it is evident that her standing out for what she considered 'woman's rights' brought her into frequent and severe trouble. mr. winthrop says that she excelled mrs. hutchinson in zeal and eloquence." she finally, in , left the colony, after having caused much trouble to the church and the authorities. "in , women were prosecuted in salem for scolding," and probably in many cases whipped or ducked. "may , , the general court of massachusetts orders that scolds and railers shall be gagged or set in a ducking-stool and dipped over head and ears three times." this treatment we should suppose would be likely to make the victims _very pleasant_, especially in cold weather. "may , , thomas maule is ordered to be whipped for saying that mr. higginson preached lies, and that his instruction was 'the doctrine of devils.'" josiah southwick, mrs. wilson, mrs. buffum, and others, quakers, for making disturbances in the meeting-house, etc., were whipped at the cart's tail through the town. southwick, for returning after having been banished, was whipped through the towns of boston, roxbury, and dedham. these are only a few of the cases of the punishments inflicted upon the quakers. mr. felt says in reference to the persecution of the quakers: "before any new denomination becomes consolidated, some of its members are apt to show more zeal than discretion. no sect who are regular and useful should have an ill name for the improprieties committed by a few of them." our "pious forefathers," we must confess, were too apt to be a little hard towards those who annoyed them with their tongue and pen upon church doctrine and discipline or the administration of the government. as early as , one philip ratclif is sentenced by the assistants to pay £ , to be whipped, to have his ears cropped, and to be banished. what had he done to merit such a punishment as this? he had made "hard speeches against salem church, as well as the government." "the execution of this decision," mr. felt says, "was represented in england to the great disadvantage of massachusetts." jeffries was not yet on the bench in england. in a man was fined for excess of apparel "in bootes, rebonds, gould and silver lace." mr. charles w. palfrey contributed in to the "salem register" the following interesting item on the salem witchcraft trials: among the many attempts to remedy the mischiefs caused by the witchcraft delusion, the subjoined is not without interest. about eighteen years after the memorable year, , four members, a committee of the legislature, were sent to salem to hear certain parties and receive certain petitions, and the following is the record, in the journal, of their report:-- october , . present in council, his excellency joseph dudley, esqr., governor, john hathorne, samuel sewall, jonathan corwin, joseph lynde, penn townsend, john higginson, daniel epes, andrew belcher, etc., etc. report of the committee appointed, relating to the affair of witchcraft in the year ; viz.-- we whose names are subscribed in obedience to your honours' act at a court held the last of may, , for our inserting the names of the several persons who were condemned for witchcraft in the year , & of the damages they sustained by their prosecution; being met at salem, for the ends aforesaid, the th septem., , upon examination of the records of the several persons condemned, humbly offer to your honours the names as follows, to be inserted for the reversing their attainders: elizabeth how, george jacob, mary easty, mary parker, mr. george burroughs, gyles cory & wife, rebecca nurse, john willard, sarah good, martha carrier, samuel wardel, john procter, sarah wild, mary bradbury, abigail falkner, abigail hobbs, ann foster, rebecca eams, dorcas hoar, mary post, mary lacy: and having heard the several demands of the damages of the aforesaid persons & those in their behalf; & upon conference have so moderated their respective demands that we doubt not but they will be readily complied with by your honours. which respective demands are as follows:-- elizabeth how, twelve pounds; george jacob, seventy nine pounds; mary easty, twenty pounds; mary parker, eight pounds; mr. george burroughs, fifty pounds; gyles core & martha core his wife, twenty one pounds; rebecca nurse, twenty five pounds; john willard, twenty pounds; sarah good, thirty pounds; martha carrier, seven pounds six shillings; samuel wardell & sarah his wife, thirty six pounds fifteen shillings; john proctor & ---- proctor his wife, one hundred and fifty pounds; sarah wilde, fourteen pounds; mrs. mary bradbury, twenty pounds; abigail faulkner, twenty pounds; abigail hobbs, ten pounds; ann foster, six pounds ten shillings; rebecca eams, ten pounds; dorcas hoar, twenty one pounds seventeen shillings; mary post eight pounds fourteen shillings; mary lacey eight pounds ten shillings. the whole amounting unto five hundred & seventy eight pounds, & twelve shillings. (sign'd) jno. appleton, thomas noyes, john burrill, nehem'a jewett. salem, septemr. , . read & accepted in the house of represent'ves signed john burrill speak'r read & concur'd in council consented to j. dudley. the following quaint memorandum of the expenses of the commission is minuted in the report, viz.:-- _ye acct of gr servts_ charges days a peis ourselves & horses . . . entertainment at salem mr. pratts . . . major sewals attendans & sendg notifications to all concerned . . . ------- £ . . . it is a grave error into which many modern writers have been drawn, when alluding to salem witchcraft, to lay the responsibility of that dire delusion entirely upon salem people, as if they alone were to be held accountable for the dreadful occurrences of . the laws of england in those days, all the authorities of new england, and, with but rare exceptions, all the people everywhere throughout the civilized world, recognized witchcraft as a fact and believed it to be a crime. the most learned men in england and in other countries believed fully in witchcraft. sir matthew hale had given a legal opinion on the subject; lord bacon believed in witchcraft; and there are strong reasons for thinking that shakspeare and other great men of the time of queen elizabeth and still later believed in it fully. cotton mather, judge sewall, peter sargent, lieutenant-governor stoughton, all belonging to boston, were the leaders in the proceedings against the witches of . ------------------------- hung in chains. in the papers that we have examined we have not found any instances recorded of the old english law of hanging the remains of executed criminals in chains as having been carried into effect in our country. but from some investigations of mr. james e. mauran, of newport, r.i., we learn that on march , , one mecum of that town was executed for murder and his body was hung in chains on miantonomy hill, where the remains of an indian were then hanging, who had been executed sept. , . mecum was a scotchman, and lived at the head of broad street. a negro was hanged in newport in , and his remains were exposed on the same hill. ------------------------- a book ordered to be burned by the council in . the "salem observer" of feb. , , quotes from the rev. dr. bentley's "diary" as follows:-- tho's maule, shopkeeper of salem, is brought before the council to answer for his printing and publishing a pamphlet of pages, entitled "truth held forth and maintained," owns the book but will not own all, till he sees his copy which is at new-york with bradford, who printed it. saith he writt to ye gov'r of n. york before he could get it printed. book is ordered to be burnt--being stuff'd with notorious lyes and scandals, and he recognizes to answer it next court of assize and gen'l gaol delivery to be held for the county of essex. he acknowledges that what was written concerning the circumstance of major gen. atherton's death was a mistake (p. and ), was chiefly insisted on against him, which i believe was a surprize to him, he expecting to be examined in some point of religion, as should seem by his bringing his bible under his arm. thomas maule was a quaker who lived in essex street, salem, on the spot now occupied by james b. curwen, esq., as a residence. imported books were ordered to be burned in boston as early as , by command of the general court; but we believe this is the first instance of burning an american book. ------------------------- punishment for wearing long hair in new england. from an old salem paper. puritanical zeal. it is known that there was one of the statutes in our ancestors' code which imposed a penalty for the wearing of long hair. at the time endicott was the magistrate of this town he caused the following order to be passed:-- "john gatshell is fyened ten shillings for building upon the town's ground without leave; and in case he shall cutt of his loung hair of his head in to sevill frame (fewell flame?) in the meane time, shall have abated five shillings his fine, to be paid in to the towne meeting within two months from this time, and have leave to go in his building in the meantime." purchas says of long hair that-- "it is an ornament to the female sex, a token of subjection, an ensign of modesty; but modesty grows short in men as their hair grows long, and a neat perfumed, frizled, pouldered bush hangs but as a token,--_vini non vendibilis_, of much wine, little wit, of men weary of manhood, of civility, of christianity, which would faine turn (as the least doe imitate) american salvages, infidels, barbarians, or women at the least and best." prynne, who wrote in , considers men who nourish their hair like women, as an abomination to the lord, and says-- "no wonder that the wearing of long haire should make men abominable unto god himselfe, since it was an abomination even among heathen men. witnesse the examples of heliogabalus, sardanapalus, nero, sporus, caius caligula, and others." he refers to the opinions of the fathers and the decrees of the old councils to prove that-- "long hair and love locks are bushes of vanity whereby the devil leads and holds men captive." ------------------------- in a boston paper, aug. , , we find the following ludicrous account of the unfaithfulness of an officer in the duty of whipping a culprit:-- on thursday, culprits received the discipline of the post in this town. the person obtained by the high sheriff to inflict the punishment, from sympathetick feeling for his brother culprits, was very tender in dealing out his strokes, and not adding weight to them, although repeatedly ordered; the sheriff, to his honour, took the whip from his hand, by an application of it to his shoulders drove him from the stage, and with the assistance of his deputies inflicted the punishment of the law on all the culprits. the citizens who were assembled, complimented the sheriff with three cheers for the manly, determined manner in which he executed his duty. ------------------------- in the "boston courier," september, , is an account of the conviction of a common drunkard at the age of ! it seems hardly possible that such a case could have occurred, and in new england, too. this item is copied from the "salem observer." if it is true, it can hardly be said that the man shortened his days by the use of liquor. they had, however, good, pure rum in those days. police court. donald mcdonald, a scotchman reported to be _one hundred and three years of age_, was brought before the court yesterday charged with being a common drunkard, of which he had been convicted once before. donald stated that he had been in various battles of the revolution, had sailed with paul jones, and was at the taking of quebec. he was found guilty and sentenced to the house of correction for three months. ------------------------- donald m'donald, the scotchman, who has numbered upwards of years, was sent to the house of industry on saturday of last week, in a state of intoxication. he had been suffered to go at large but four days previous, and during two of them was seen about our streets a drunken brawler.--_boston patriot_, . ------------------------- new england in . john dunton, writing from boston in to his friends in england, quotes some of the province laws then in force. he says:-- for being drunk they either whip or impose a fine of five shillings; and yet, notwithstanding this law, there are several of them so addicted to it that they begin to doubt whether it be a sin or no, and seldom go to bed without muddy brains. for cursing and swearing they bore through the tongue with a hot iron. for kissing a woman in the street, though but in way of civil salute, whipping or a fine (their way of whipping criminals is by tying them to a gun at the town house, and when so ty'd whipping them at the pleasure of the magistrate and according to the nature of the offence). for adultery they are put to death, and so for witchcraft, for that, there are a great many witches in this country &c. scolds they gag and set them at their own doors, for certain hours together for all comers and goers to gaze at. were this a law in england and well executed it wou'd in a little time prove an effectual remedy to cure the noise that is in many women's heads. stealing is punished with restoring four-fold if able; if not, they are sold for some years, and so are poor debtors. i have not heard of many criminals of this sort. but for lying and cheating they out-vye judas and all the false other cheats in hell. nay, they make a sport of it: looking upon cheating as a commendable piece of ingenuity, commending him that has the most skill to commit a piece of roguery; which in their dialect (like those of our yea-and-nay-friends in england) they call by the genteel name of out-witting a man and won't own it to be cheating. after mentioning the case of a man in boston who bought a horse of a countryman who could not read and gave him a note payable at the "day of the resurrection," etc. dunton goes on to say: "in short, these bostonians enrich themselves by the ruine of strangers, etc.... but all these things pass under the notion of self-preservation and christian policy." it would hardly be fair to quote all this from dunton's letters unless we added what he says of boston in another place; namely, "and though the generality are what i have described them, yet is there as sincere a pious and truly religious people among them as is any where in the whole world to be found." ------------------------- it seems to have been quite common at one time to sell prisoners. at the supreme judicial court in salem, in november, , "elizabeth leathe of lynn, for harbouring thieves and receiving stolen goods, was convicted and sentenced to be whipped twenty stripes and to be sold for six months." also at a session of the same court, held in boston in september, , six persons were convicted of theft and sentenced to be whipped and pay costs, or to be sold for periods of from six months to four years. at this same court one seth johnson appears to have received what seems to us a rather severe sentence, although of course we do not know all the circumstances of the case. he was convicted of theft on three indictments and was sentenced to be "whipt stripes and confined to hard labor for nine years." the court at salem, before referred to, passed on one catharine derby a very heavy sentence for stealing from captain hathorne's shop. it was, "to sit upon the gallows one hour with a rope about her neck, to be whipped stripes, pay £ to capt. hathorne, and costs of prosecution." this is almost as bad as the old saying, "being hung and paying forty shillings." this practice of selling convicts was nothing more or less than making slaves of them,--for a limited period, of course; but perhaps it was in many instances a punishment more to be desired by the victims than being confined in prison, especially if they were well treated. the prisons in those days had not "modern conveniences," and probably in some cases were hardly decent. the condition of the jail in portsmouth, n.h., in february, , is thus described by a prisoner who made his escape from there by digging through the chimney. his account is interesting in this connection. the paper from which we take it says: "but for fear his quitting his lodgings in so abrupt a manner might lay him open to censure, he wrote the following on the wall:-- "the reason of my going is because i have _no fire_ to comfort myself with, and very _little_ provision. so i am sure, if i was to _stay_ any longer i should perish to death. look at that bed there! do you think it fit for any person to lie on? "if you are well, i am well; mend the chimney, and all's well! "to the gentlemen and officers of portsmouth from your humble servant, "william fall. "n.b. i am very sorry that i did not think of this before, for if i had, your people should not have had the pleasure of seeing me take the lashes." the whipping-post and stocks were discontinued in massachusetts early in the present century. on the th of january, , one hawkins stood an hour in the pillory in court street (now washington street), salem, and had his ear cropped for the crime of forgery, pursuant to the sentence of the supreme court. it would be easy to multiply cases showing the old methods of dealing with criminals; but we think we have cited enough for our readers to be able to form some judgment as to the desirability of reviving the old and degrading systems, even if it could be done. it does seem sometimes that there are brutes in the shape of men whose cruelty, especially in the case of crimes against women, makes them deserving of the worst punishment that could be inflicted for the protection of society; but for the general run of such comparatively light offences as petty larceny, etc., beating and branding with hot irons must be considered barbarous in the extreme, and more after the manner of savages than christians. we always thought that the beating of scholars--a practice once very common in schools--for such trifling offences as whispering and looking off the book, was a gross outrage, and the parent knowing and allowing it was in our opinion as guilty as the schoolmaster. of course we will not deny that teachers did, then as now, have a great deal to put up with from saucy, "good-for-nothing" boys, to whom the rod could not well be spared; but we do not allude to such cases. we knew a master whose delight, apparently, was pounding and beating _little_ boys,--he did not touch the large ones. and yet he was generally considered a first-rate teacher. parents upheld him in anything he chose to do with the boys, and if they complained at home, they were told that it must have been their fault to be punished at all. this man every morning took the bible in one hand and his rattan in the other and walked backward and forward on the floor in front of the desks while the boys read aloud, each boy reading two or three verses; and woe be to any boy who made a mistake, such as mispronouncing a word! although he might never have been instructed as to its pronunciation, he was at once pounded on the head or rapped over the knuckles. of course he never forgot that particular word. and this teacher was called only "strict"! if ever a man deserved the pillory, it was that teacher. possibly some of our readers may think that there is another side to this story; for the benefit of such we give some lines from the "salem gazette," feb. , . _from the connecticut centinel._ the schoolmaster's soliloquy. to whip, or not to whip?--that is the question. whether 'tis easier in the mind to suffer the deaf'ning clamor of some fifty urchins, or take birch and ferule 'gainst the rebels, and by opposing end it? to whip--to flog-- each day, and by a whip to say we end the whispering, shuffling, and ceaseless buzzing which a school is heir to--'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. to whip, to flog, to whip, and not reform--aye, there's the rub. for by severity what ills may come, when we've dismissed and to our lodging gone, must give us pain. there's the respect that makes the patience of a teacher's life. for who would bear the thousand plagues of a school,-- the girlish giggle, the tyro's awkwardness, the pigmy pedant's vanity, the mischief, the sneer, the laugh, the pouting insolence, with all the hum-drum clatter of a school, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare hickory? who would willing bear to groan and sweat under a noisy life, but that the dread of something after school (that hour of rumor, from whose slanderous tongue few tutors e'er are free) puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear _these_ lesser ills, than fly to _those_ of greater magnitude. thus error does make cowards of us all; and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied over with undue clemency, and pedagogues of great pith and spirit, with this regard their _firmness_ turn away, and lose the name of _government_. ------------------------- we here record a curious affair which took place in the state of georgia in the year . at the superior court at milledgeville a mrs. palmer, who, the account states, "seems to have been rather glib of the tongue, was indicted, tried, convicted, and, in pursuance of the sentence of the court, was punished by being publicly ducked in the oconee river for--_scolding_." this, we are told, was the first instance of the kind that had ever occurred in that state, and "numerous spectators attended the execution of the sentence." a paper copying this account says that the "crime is old, but the punishment is new," and that "in the good old days of our ancestors, when an unfortunate woman was accused of witchcraft she was tied neck and heels and thrown into a pond of water: if she drowned, it was agreed that she was no witch; if she swam, she was immediately tied to a stake and burnt alive. but who ever heard that our _pious_ ancestors _ducked_ women for scolding?" this writer is much mistaken; for it is well known that in england (and perhaps in this country in early times) the "ducking-stool" was resorted to for punishing "scolds." this was before the days of "women's rights," for there is no record of any man having been punished in this way. it is said that the ducking-stool was used in virginia at one time. thomas hartley writes from there to governor endicott of massachusetts in , giving an account of the punishing a woman "who by the violence of her tongue had made her house and neighborhood uncomfortable." she was ducked five times before she repented; "then cried piteously, 'let me go! let me go! by god's help i'll sin so no more.' they then drew back y^e machine, untied y^e ropes, and let her walk home in her wetted clothes a hopefully penitent woman." in the "american historical record," vol. i., will be found a very interesting account of this singular affair, with an engraving of the "ducking-stool." bishop meade, in his "old churches," etc., says there was a law in virginia against scolds and slanderers, and gives an instance of a woman ordered to be ducked three times from a vessel lying in james river. there must have been very severe practices in virginia in the early days, according to bishop meade. we refer persons especially interested in this subject to hone's "day book and table book," or chambers's "book of days," both english publications, for a full account of the ducking-stool and scold's bridle, formerly used in england for the punishment of scolding women. it is not pleasant to think that such a shameful practice was ever resorted to, but it appears to be well authenticated. we cannot, however, read english history, or any other history, without finding a vast number of disagreeable facts which we are obliged to believe. some things, too, have occurred in our own country that we should like to forget. all over the country we are nowadays troubled with "strikes." such "irregularities" must have been treated in a different spirit half a century ago from what they are now. in these days the "strikers" attempt to dictate terms, and in some cases succeed; although as a general thing they get the worst of the struggle. the method of dealing with such matters fifty years ago is briefly set forth in the "salem observer," march , . it says: "_turn-out in new york._ there has been a turn-out for higher wages among the laborers in the city of new york. _several of the ring-leaders have been arrested and ordered to give heavy bonds for their appearance at court._" in september, , some sailors struck in boston for higher wages, formed a procession, and marched through the city, making considerable noise with their cheers, etc. they issued the following proclamation, which was read by the leader now and then, and responded to with loud cheers: "attention! we, the blue jackets now in the city of boston, agree that we will not ship for less than $ a month, and that we will punish any one who shall ship for less in such way as we think proper, and strip the vessel [which he ships in]. what say you?" at the common they were met by a militia company, who charged upon them; some men of both sides were knocked down, but no lives were lost or blood shed. in the afternoon the sailors were out again with drum and fife. the paper from which we obtain this information says that they probably would not get any advance, as it is assured by a shipper that he found no difficulty in procuring crews at the customary wages. probably it was not intended that the military should do more than endeavor to keep order. ------------------------- it is rather surprising that there should have been no conviction for felony in the county of essex from , when the witches were tried, until ,--a period of seventy-nine years. it would so appear, however, from the following extract from the "essex gazette," nov. , :-- last wednesday morning the trial of bryan sheehen for committing a rape on the body of mrs. abial hollowell, wife of mr. benjamin hollowell, of marblehead, in september last, came on before the superior court of judicature, at the court-house in this town. the trial lasted from between nine and ten o'clock a.m. till three in the afternoon, when the jury withdrew, and in about one hour brought in their verdict, guilty. mrs. hollowell's testimony against the prisoner was fully corroborated by the physician who attended her, and by the people who were in the house, at and after the perpetration of the crime; by which the guilt and barbarity of the prisoner was so fully demonstrated, that the verdict of the jury has given universal satisfaction. this bryan sheehen (who has not yet received his sentence) is the first person, as far as we can learn, that has been convicted of felony, in this large county, since the memorable year , commonly called _witch-time_. ------------------------- from the "boston post-boy," february, . boston, january . at the superiour court held at charlestown last week, samuel bacon of bedford, and meriam fitch, wife of benjamin fitch of said bedford, were convicted of being notorious cheats, and of having by fraud, craft and deceit, possess'd themselves of fifteen hundred johannes, the property of a third person; were sentenced to be each of them set in the pillory one hour, with a paper on each of their breasts with the words a cheat wrote in capitals thereon, to suffer three months imprisonment, and to be bound to their good behaviour for one year, and to pay costs. ------------------------- from the "massachusetts gazette," may , . on saturday evening the d ult. eight of the prisoners, confined at the castle, broke from their confinement, and made their escape to the main. the day following five of them were taken in a barn at dorchester, and immediately re-conducted to the castle. the ensuing night the three others were apprehended at sharon, near stoughton, and were also sent back to their place of confinement. richard squire and john matthews, the pirates, and stephen burroughs, a _noted_ clerical character, were among the prisoners who made their escape from the castle, as mentioned above. and on saturday last, we are informed, the eight culprits shared among them the benefit of a distribution of lashes. on monday evening last, a person, in passing from the long-wharf to dock-square, was assaulted and knocked down, by a single villain, who robbed him of a box, containing a coat, two waistcoats, a pair of corduroy breeches, a piece of calico, in which was wrapped up three watches, and a letter containing money. on thursday last, at noon, seven fellows received the discipline of the post, in this town. ------------------------- curious list of punishments in the early days of new england. from "salem gazette," may , . _the following (taken from a boston paper of last week) is a collection of a few of the many curious punishments, inflicted for a variety of offences, among the old records of this commonwealth._ between and . sir _richard saltonstale_ fined four bushels of malt for his absence from court. _william almy_ fined for taking away mr. glover's canoe without leave. _josias plastoree_ shall (for stealing four baskets of corn from the indians) return them eight baskets again, be fined l. and hereafter to be called by the name of _josias_, and not _mr._ as formerly he used to be. _joyce bradwick_ shall give unto alexander beeks, s. for promising him marriage without her friends' consent, and now refusing to perform the same. _william james_, for incontinency, was sentenced to be set in the bilboes at boston and salem, and bound in l. _thomas petet, for suspicion_ of slander, idleness and stubbornness, is to be severely whipt and kept in hold. _john smith_, of medford, for swearing, _being penitent_, was set in bilboes. _richard turner_, for being notoriously drunk, was fined l. _john hoggs_, for swearing _god's foot_, cursing his servant, wishing "a pox of god take you," was fined l. _richard ibrook_, for tempting two or more maids to uncleanness, was fined l. to the country, and s. a piece to the two maids. _thomas makepeace_, because of his novel disposition, was informed we were weary of him, unless he reformed. _edward palmer_, for his extortion, taking s. d. for the plank and woodwork of boston stocks, is fined l. and censured to be set an hour in the stocks. _john white_ is bound in l. to be of good behaviour, and not to come into the company of bull's wife alone. _thomas lechford_ acknowledging he had _overset_ himself and is sorry for it, promising to attend his calling, and not to meddle with controversies, was dismissed. _sarah hales_ was censured _for her miscarriage_ to be carried to the gallows with a rope about her neck, and to sit upon the ladder, the rope end flung over the gallows, and after to be banished. ------------------------- wholesale sentences of death in london, in . at the october session of the old bailey, london, sentence of death was passed on thirty-seven persons, four of whom were females. four were condemned for passing counterfeit notes, eleven for highway robberies, two for burglary, for stealing in dwelling houses, for horse-stealing, for sacrilege, &c. ------------------------- from the "salem mercury," july , . _the following_ extraordinary occurrence _is extracted from the_ european magazine _for_ . samuel burt, convicted of forgery a few sessions since, was put to the bar, and informed that his majesty, in his royal clemency, had been graciously pleased to extend his mercy to him on condition that he should be transported during his natural life. the prisoner bowed respectfully to the court, and immediately addressed the recorder with his "most humble and unfeigned thanks, for the kindness and humanity of the recorder, the sheriffs, and other gentlemen who had interested themselves in his favour, and who had so effectually represented his unhappy case to the throne, that his majesty, whose humanity could only be equalled by his love of virtue, had extended his mercy; but however flattering the prospect of preserving life might be to a man in a different situation; yet that he, now he was sunk and degraded in society, was totally insensible of the blessing. life was no longer an object with him, as it was utterly impossible that he could be joined in union with the person who was dearer to him than life itself. under such circumstances, although he was truly sensible of his majesty's goodness and clemency, yet he must positively decline the terms offered him; preferring death to the prolongation of a life which could not be otherwise than truly miserable." the whole court was astonished at his address; and after consultation, mr. recorder remanded the prisoner back to the jail, to be brought up again the first day of next session. ------------------------- the pillory appears to have been in use in boston as lately as ; for we find in the "chronicle" of that city that in march of that year robert pierpont, owner, and h.r. story, master, of the brigantine "hannah," for the crime of sinking the vessel at sea, and thus defrauding the underwriters (among whom were joseph taylor, peter c. brooks, thomas amory, david greene, and benjamin bussey), were convicted before the supreme judicial court, and the following sentence imposed: "that they should stand one hour in the pillory in state street on two several days, be confined in prison for the term of two years, and pay costs of prosecution." considering the magnitude of the crime, this was a light sentence. an underwriter in the "chronicle" says: "it is a transaction exceeding in infamy all that has hitherto appeared in the commerce of our country." ------------------------- wholesale execution of pirates in newport, r.i., in july, . capture of pirates. this year ( ) two pirate sloops, called the ranger and the fortune, committed many piracies on the american coast, having captured and sunk several vessels.--on the th of june, they captured a virginia sloop, which they plundered and let go, who soon after fell in with his majesty's ship grey hound, capt. solgard, of guns, who on being informed of the piracy, immediately went in pursuit of the pirates, and on the th came up with them about leagues south from the east end of long island. they mistaking her for a merchant ship, immediately gave chase and commenced firing under the black flag.--the grey hound succeeded in capturing the ranger, one of the sloops, after having men wounded, but the other pirate escaped. the grey hound and her prize arrived in the harbor of newport, and the pirates, in number, were committed for trial. _trial of the pirates._ a court of admiralty, for the trial of pirates, was held at newport on the th, th and th of july. the hon. william dummer, lt. governor and commander in chief of the province of massachusetts bay, president of the court. the thirty-six pirates taken by capt. solgard, were tried, when charles harris, who acted as captain, and of his men, were found guilty, and sentenced to suffer death, and men were acquitted on the ground of having been forced into their service. _execution of the pirates._ on friday the th of july, the pirates were taken to a place in newport, called bull's point, (now gravelly point,) within the flux and reflux of the sea, and there hanged. the following are their names:--charles harris, thomas linnicar, daniel hyde, stephen mundon, abraham lacy, edward lawson, john tomkins, francis laughton, john fisgerald, wm. studfield, owen rice, wm. read, wm. blades, tho's hagget, peter cues, wm. jones, edward eaton, john brown, james sprinkly, joseph sound, charles church, john waters, tho's powell, joseph libbey, thomas hazel, john bright. the pirates were all young men, most of them were natives of england, wm. blades was from rhode island and thomas powell from wethersfield, (conn.); after the execution, their bodies were taken to the north end of goat island, and buried on the shore, between high and low water mark. as this was the most extensive execution of pirates that ever took place at one time in the colonies, it was attended by a vast multitude from every part of new england. from the _salem observer_, nov. , . ------------------------- description of "villains" in the "boston post-boy," dec. , . tuesday last a gang of villains were apprehended at a house in roxbury, and brought to town & committed to goal, they have been concerned in the late robberies here, and 'tis suspected in some of those towards pennsylvania, for which reason it will be proper to advertise their names, with some description of them, which are as follows, viz. _william robinson_, a tall slim fellow, about feet inches high, wears a blue surtout coat with metal buttons, and his hat commonly flopt before, and an old laced waistcoat, has short curled black hair; when he speaks he seems jaw-fallen and very effeminate, is about years of age, walks much like a foot-pad, and has a comely woman with him whom he calls his wife.----_john cassady_, a middling siz'd fellow much pock-broken, square-shoulder'd, wears a wig upon the yellow cast, and has a very guilty countenance, is about years of age, and calls himself a shoe-maker.--_john willson_, a short young fellow, about years of age, wears a blue surtout coat, and short black hair, of a pale countenance, and calls himself a sail-maker.--_george sears_, a well-set fellow, with a comely face, black hair twisted with a black ribbon, and says he serv'd years to an attorney in england. ------------------------- in the "essex gazette," nov. , , is the following news from england:-- a correspondent expresses great surprise and indignation at the disproportion of punishments in this country. he says he read in a news paper that two men were hanged together last month in kent, one of whom had committed a barbarous murder on his wife, and the other had stolen three shillings and sixpence. in the same paper there followed immediately another paragraph, that a woman had been only whipped for stealing little children and burning their eyes out. at this day we believe it is the custom of the english authorities to treat all prisoners alike, whatever the charges against them may be. it seems as if they were desirous of degrading men as much as possible. mr. john boyle o'reilly, a poet and gentleman of culture, who was unfortunately a political prisoner, was chained to a wife-murderer. and this the english call "justice,"--as if there could be no difference in offences! ------------------------- severe punishment used to be inflicted for the crime of passing counterfeit coin. the "essex gazette," april , , under news from newport, april , says,-- william carlisle was convicted of passing counterfeit dollars, and sentenced to stand one hour in the pillory, on little-rest hill, next friday, to have _both ears_ cropped, to be branded on _both cheeks_ with the letter r, to pay a fine of one hundred dollars and cost of prosecution, and to stand committed till sentence performed. the letter r probably meant "rogue." the same account states that-- "last wednesday evening one mr. ----, of this town (newport), was catched by a number of persons in disguise, placed on an old horse, and paraded through the principal streets for about an hour as a _warning_ to all bad husbands." ------------------------- in the "massachusetts gazette," sept. , , we find an account of the dutch mode of executions. new-jersey. elizabeth-town, _aug. _. the little influence which our present mode of executing criminals has in deterring others from the commission of the same crimes, arises from a want of solemnity and terrifick circumstances on such occasions. it is not the mere loss of life which has so much a tendency to affect the spectator, as the dreadful apparatus, the awful preliminaries, which ought to attend publick executions; whose justifiable purposes is the prevention of crimes, and not the inflicting torment on the criminal. a variety of particulars might be adopted respecting the dress of the condemned, the solemnity of the procession to the place of execution, and the apparatus there, to throw horrour on the scene without in reality giving the unhappy victim a more painful exit. the dutch have a mode of execution which is well calculated to inspire terror, without putting the sufferer to extraordinary pain. the criminal is placed on a scaffold, opposite to the gigantick figure of a woman, with arms extended, filled with spikes, or long sharpened nails, and a dagger pointed from her breast, she is gradually moved towards him by machinery for the purpose, till he gets within her embrace, when her arms encircle him, and the dagger is pressed through his heart. this is vulgarly called among them, kissing the yssrow, or woman, and excites more terror in the breasts of the populace than any other mode of punishment. ------------------------- inhabitants of boston severely punished (on paper) in april, , for _destruction of the tea_. a curious historical item. in a recent english chronological work, under the article of "tea," we found the following brief notice of the american revolution: "tea destroyed at boston by the inhabitants, , in abhorrence of english taxes; for which they were severely punished by the english parliament, in april, ." _salem observer_, april , . ------------------------- sentences of death for robbery, may , . the mulatto who, some time since, robbed mr. bacon, on the cambridge road, was, at the late term of the supreme court at concord, convicted of the crime, and had sentence of death pronounced against him. thursday next is the day appointed for the execution of the two taylors, for the robbery of mr. cunningham, on boston-neck. ------------------------- captain phillips, of the british army, whipped in new york in . philadelphia, february , . on saturday last, was whipped at the cart's tail, for robbery, one of george the third's pretty subjects. this fellow, who now goes by the name of captain phillips, under his good friend sir harry clinton, learned such a knack of thieving while he commanded a whale-boat along this coast, under his good master, that now, having lost his protection, he and a number more of those lads called loyalists are swarming amongst us, and have set up business in a small way; and though many of them may not choose to steal themselves, yet, by harbouring and encouraging others, may do much mischief to the good inhabitants of these states. _salem gazette._ ------------------------- sentences at the supreme court. boston, march , . at the supreme judicial court, lately held here, the following persons were arraigned, viz. _thomas hastings_, indicted for selling corrupt swine's flesh, was found guilty.--he was sentenced to pay a fine of twelve pounds for the use of the commonwealth, recognize himself as principal in the sum of thirty pounds, with sufficient surety or sureties in the like sum, for his keeping the peace and being of good behaviour for the term of one year, pay costs of prosecution, and stand committed till sentence be performed. _john boyd_, for stealing, pled guilty:--sentenced to pay to the person injured, treble the value of the goods stolen, receive stripes at the public whipping post, sit on the gallows one hour with a rope about his neck, pay costs of prosecution, and stand committed till sentence be performed.--he was, upon another indictment for theft, sentenced to pay treble damages, whipped stripes, and pay costs of prosecution.--upon declaring himself unable to pay damages, he was for the first offence sentenced to be sold for months, and for the second, months. _lewis humphries_, for stealing, pled guilty:--sentenced to pay treble damages, receive stripes, sit on the gallows one hour with a rope about his neck, pay costs of prosecution, and stand committed till sentence be performed.--upon declaring himself unable to pay damages, was sentenced to be sold for the term of years. _william padley_, for an assault upon his wife, with an intent to kill her, was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to sit on the gallows one hour, there to receive stripes, pay costs of prosecution, and stand committed till sentence be performed. ------------------------- sentences by the supreme judicial court at salem, nov. , . at the supreme judicial court, holden in this town, for the county of essex, which adjourned on thursday last, several persons, criminally indicted, were convicted and severally sentenced. isaac coombs, an indian, was found guilty, at last june term, at ipswich, of murdering his wife; at which time a motion was made to the court, in arrest of judgment, on which the court suspended giving judgment thereon until this term; but the said motion being overruled, the court gave judgment of death against him. besides the sentence of the indian, as above, _thomas kendry_, for breaking into the store of israel bartlet, and stealing sundry goods, was sentenced, on his confession, to pay said bartlet £ - - , to sit on the gallows one hour with a rope about his neck, to be whipped stripes, and confined to hard labour on castle-island two years. _thomas atwood_ & _john ransum_, for breaking open the store of knott pedrick, and stealing dry fish, were each sentenced to pay said pedrick £ - - , to sit one hour on the gallows, be whipped stripes, and confined to labour on castle-island years. _john smith_, for stealing goods from abner perkins, was sentenced to pay said perkins £ - - , and be whipped stripes. the same _john smith_, for breaking open a sloop, and stealing goods of john brooks, was sentenced to pay said brooks £ - - , to sit one hour on the gallows, be whipped stripes, and confined months on castle-island. _john scudder_, for stealing from eli gale, was sentenced to pay said gale £ - - , or if unable to pay, to be disposed of by him, in service, to any person, for months. _joseph ballard_, for stealing a horse from thomas dodge, was sentenced to pay £ , be whipped stripes, pay costs, &c. and, if unable to pay, that said dodge may dispose of him in service to any person for two years. _calvin newhall_ was indicted for assaulting deborah sarker, a negro woman, with intent to commit a rape upon her. he pleaded not guilty; and the jury found him guilty of the assault, but whether with an intent to ravish they could not agree; whereupon the attorney general would no further prosecute for said intent to ravish; and the court ordered that said calvin should be whipped stripes, and recognize in £ , with sufficient surety in a like sum, to be of good behaviour for months, and pay costs. ------------------------- punishment in for criticising the preacher and the music, and for sleeping in "meeting." the hon. wm. d. northend, in a very interesting and valuable address before the essex bar association, dec. , , mentions the following among other cases taken from the essex county court records:-- "in william hewes and john his son, for terming such as sing in the congregation fools, and william hewes also for charging reverend mr. corbitt with falsehood in his doctrine, were ordered to pay a fine of fifty shillings each, and to make humble confession in a public meeting at lynn." william hewes and his son were probably only criticising the music and the preaching in the "meeting-house." if people nowadays were fined for similar offences, the county would grow so rich that there would be no necessity for the present heavy tax. "in roger scott, for repeated sleeping in meeting on the lord's day, and for striking the person who waked him, was, at salem, sentenced to be severely whipped." it must be borne in mind that people in those days were not allowed to stay at home on the lord's day and do their sleeping there. staying at home on sunday is a modern innovation. from the massachusetts colony records, quoted by mr. northend, we learn that in march, , sir christopher gardner, who had passed much of his time "with roystering morton of merry mount," and who was living with a lady he called his cousin, upon receipt by the governor of information of two wives in england "whom he has carelessly left behind," after a long pursuit was captured and sent back to england. it would seem, then, that there must have been, judging from this example, in "high places" some "indiscretions" and "unpleasant" gossip early in our history. mr. northend finds that at "the same date one nich. knopp, for pretending to cure scurvy by water of no value, which he sold at a very dear rate, was ordered to pay a fine of five pounds or be whipped, and made liable to an action by any person to whom he had sold the water." how would such a decree work in our day, if applied to the makers or venders of all the "water of no value" which is advertised on the fences and barns alongside of our railroads and highways? mr. northend, speaking of the severity of the early laws, says:-- "the criminal laws were taken principally from the mosaic code; and although many of them at the present day seem harsh and cruel, yet as a whole they were very much milder than the criminal laws of england at the time, and the number of capital offences was greatly reduced." ------------------------- curious punishments in schools. in some of the old schools in salem (no doubt it was the same in other places) the teachers whose business it was to teach youths the "three r's,"--reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic,--were too apt to be occupied, as we have been told, in scolding, devising or practising some mode of punishment. we remember hearing of a school where the master kept a long cane pole (something like a fishing-rod) which he used for the purpose of reaching boys who needed correction; on account of the length of the pole he was enabled to do business without leaving his seat. it was never suspected at the time how lazy this master was. another teacher kept for use as a punishment a common walnut, which when occasion required he first put into the mouth of a colored boy, and after it had remained there for five minutes or so, it was taken out and put into the mouth of the white boy, who was thus to be punished by holding it in _his_ mouth for a certain length of time. this same teacher had a round smooth stone, weighing perhaps ten or fifteen pounds, which very small boys were required to hold in their arms for some time, and stand up straight before the whole school. these with a good rattan and a cowhide furnished this master's equipment for teaching. there was another master who had what he called "the mansion of misery," which was simply a line drawn with chalk on the floor in front of his desk, where for trifling offences such as whispering, etc., scholars were required to "toe the mark," standing perfectly still and upright for a long time. this was often to a little boy painful enough. this master had a stock of cowhides and rattans besides. another teacher, a woman, had the floor of the school-room kept very clean; consequently no boys were allowed to come in at all with heavy boots, and the other children in wet weather were compelled to remove their boots and shoes and put on slippers before entrance. if any of the scholars were too small to take off and put on their own boots they were punished by being "blindfolded" and stood upon a cricket in the middle of the floor. apparently the worst offence scholars could be guilty of was to bring in mud or wet upon the polished floor of the school-room. at this school one very small boy who wore high boots, but who was unable to take them off without assistance, having been punished for his "stubbornness," was taken away from the school by his parents, who resented such an act of injustice and oppression. the "school-marm," however, said she would rather lose all her scholars than have any mud or wet upon her floor. these cases are simply curious. it may be doubted whether we can in this country show anything so bad as the record furnished by dickens in describing some of the schools of england. ------------------------- the brank. an instrument of punishment formerly much used in england, but never, we think, introduced into this country, called the "brank," or "scold's bridle," or "gossip's bridle," is thus described by mr. l. jewitt, f.s.a., in mr. william andrews's "book of oddities,"--a very interesting and instructive book recently published in london:-- "it consisted of a kind of crown or framework of iron, which was locked upon the head, and was armed in front with a gag, a plate, or a sharp cutting knife or point, which was placed in the poor woman's mouth so as to prevent her moving her tongue, or it was so placed that if she moved it or attempted to speak, the tongue was cut in a most frightful manner. with this cage upon her head, and with the gag firmly pressed and locked against her tongue, the miserable creature, whose sole offence, perhaps, was that she had raised her voice in defence of her social rights against a brutal and besotted husband, or had spoken honest truth of some one high in office in the town, was paraded through the streets, led by a chain held in the hand of the bellman, the beadle, or the constable, or, chained to the pillory, the whipping-post, or market-cross, was subjected to every conceivable insult and degradation, without even the power left her of asking for mercy or of promising amendment for the future; and when the punishment was over, she was turned out from the town hall (or other place where the brutal punishment had been inflicted), maimed, disfigured, faint, and degraded, to be the subject of comment and jeering amongst her neighbors, and to be reviled by her persecutors." mr. andrews adds that the use of the brank was not sanctioned by law, but was altogether illegal; and he concludes his remarks on the subject by saying that "to everybody it must be a matter of deep regret that the instrument should ever have been used at all." dr. henry heginbotham, of stockport, england, says in speaking of the brank preserved in that town: "there is no evidence of its having been actually used for many years; but there is testimony to the fact that within the last forty years the brank was brought to a termagant market-woman, who was effectually silenced by its threatened application." it is hard for those of us who live in new england to-day to believe that such cruelties were ever practised in a christian land; but the evidence is too conclusive to admit of doubt. mr. andrews, in the book referred to, gives engravings of a dozen or more different kinds of branks and bridles which can now be seen in england and scotland. at congleton, cheshire, a woman for scolding and abusing the town officers had the "town bridle" put upon her, and was led through every street in the town, as lately as the year . it is said that chaucer wrote these lines: "but for my daughter julian, i would she were well bolted with a bridle, that leaves her work to play the clack, and lets her wheel stand idle; for it serves not for she-ministers, farriers nor furriers, cobblers nor button-makers, to descant on the bible." mr. andrews has confined his account of curious punishments mainly to england and scotland. our puritan ancestors must, we think, have seen some of the instruments of torture here described, and perhaps some of our great-great, etc., grandmothers may have been "ducked" or "silenced by a brank" many years before the sailing of the "mayflower" or the "lyon" or the "angel gabriel." ------------------------- it was once the custom in new england for a sermon to be preached before the prisoner upon the day of his execution. in the "massachusetts gazette," dec. , , is the following notice:-- salem, _dec._ . thursday last, being the day appointed for the execution of isaac coombs, an indian, with whose crime and sentence the publick have before been made acquainted, the unfortunate criminal was in the forenoon conducted to the tabernacle, where a sermon, which we are told was well adapted to the melancholy occasion, was preached by the rev. mr. spalding, from luke xviii. ,--"god be merciful to me a sinner!" after which he was returned to the prison. between the hours of and in the afternoon, he was guarded to the place of execution by a company of volunteers (consisting principally of the members of the artillery company lately formed in this town, and commanded by captain zadock buffinton) under the direction of the proper civil officers. the rev. mr. hopkins prayed at the gallows; and at o'clock the cart was led off, and the unhappy sufferer made the expiation which the law required for his horrid and unnatural crime. his behaviour, through the whole, was firm, but decent, penitent and devotional. this is the only execution which has taken place in the county of essex for near years, and but the second since about the close of the last century. the concourse of people was consequently great; and the general decorum which was observed, evinced their sympathy for a suffering individual of the species. the conduct of the military corps was highly applauded. on the way to execution the following paper was delivered to the rev. mr. bentley, by one of the officers, with a request from _isaac_, that he would read it publickly at the place of execution, at the time he should signify to him; accordingly, when the sheriff told the criminal his time was expired, as the last thing, he made the motion, and it was read to the people. as it is so contradictory to the declaration he made before of himself, we have printed it _verbatim_ as it is written, to avoid the charge of any alteration. "i who has ben called by the name of isaac cumbs being now called to the place of execution in the th year of my age, i declare i was born at south hampton long island and am a native of the said south hampton and my right name is john peters and leaving the said south hampton about years ago, and comeing to st. mertains vineyard am ben a traveller eversince till i have now arrived to this unhappy place of execution my advice is to all spectators to refrain from lying stealing and all suchlike things but in particular not to break the sabbath of the lord or game at cerds or get drunk as i have don. this is my advice and more in particular to mixt coulard people and youths of every kind. may the blessing of god desend upon you all amen." in the "essex gazette," jan. , , is an advertisement of a poem upon an execution. _to be sold at the printing-office_, salem. a poem on the execution of _william shaw_, at _springfield_, december , , for the murder of _edward east_, in _springfield_ gaol. we have seen an account of an execution where a sermon was preached at the prisoner's request. ------------------------- boston common as a place of execution. boston common was formerly often used for such a purpose. quakers were hanged there in the middle of the seventeenth century, and we find in the "salem mercury" for tuesday, nov. , , that the previous thursday one john sheehan was executed for burglary in this noted locality. sheehan was a native of cork in ireland. with its cows and its executions, the common must have presented a somewhat different appearance in those days from what it does at this time. british convicts shipped to america in . last week arrived at fisher's island, the brig nancy, belonging to this port, capt. robert w---- (a half-pay british officer) master, and landed his cargo, consisting of convicts, taken out of the british jails. capt. w. it is said, received l. sterling a head from government for this job; and, we hear, he is distributing them about the country. stand to it, houses, stores, &c., these gentry are acquainted with the business. quere, whether a suit of t---- and f---- should not be provided for capt. w. as a suitable compliment for this piece of service done his country? _salem mercury_, july , . ------------------------- from the "salem gazette," . _july_ . during the long reign of queen elizabeth, it does not appear on record, that forty persons suffered death for crimes against the community, treason only excepted. ------------------------- boston, september , . at the supreme court held here on thursday last, direck grout was tried for burglary, and found guilty: sentence has not yet been passed upon him. the following prisoners were also tried last week for various thefts, found guilty, and received sentence, viz. cornelius arie, to be whipt stripes, and set one hour on the gallows. thomas joice, to be whipt stripes, and branded. william scott, to be whipt stripes, and set one hour on the gallows. john goodbread, and edward cooper, stripes each. james campbell, to be whipt stripes, and set one hour on the gallows. michael tool, to be whipt stripes. three notorious villains yet remain to be tried for burglary, and several others for theft. ------------------------- boston, september . thursday last ten notorious villains received publick whipping, after which three of them were escorted, with halters round their necks, to the gallows, on which they sat one hour. they are again committed for costs, &c. ------------------------- "massachusetts gazette," . johnson green was executed, on thursday last, at worcester, for burglary. a greater thief and burglar was perhaps never hanged in this country. from "massachusetts centinel," oct. , . backs "dress'd." hartford, october . on wednesday last, david stillman, john hawley and thomas gibbs were committed to jail in this city, for counterfeiting and passing publick securities; and on thursday last, jonathan densmore, of east-hartford, was committed for stealing a horse. stillman and hawley belong to the county of hampshire, state of massachusetts. they are now in a fair way to have their grievances (and backs) dress'd and re-dress'd. ------------------------- from "massachusetts gazette," may , . new-york, may . _extract of a letter from washington_ (north-carolina), _march_ . "on thursday last made his appearance in this town, a certain john hamlen, who, in the late war, left the state of maryland, and joined the enemies of america. after joining them, he fitted out a galley, and cruised in the delaware and chesapeak, where he was very successful in capturing a number of american vessels. he was very fond of exercising every species of cruelty on those unhappy people who fell into his hands; among other things, he took great delight in cutting off the ears of some, and noses of others. unluckily for him he was known by some honest jack tars, belonging to vessels in this harbour, who, in the time of the war, had been made prisoners by him; these honest fellows very kindly furnished him with a coat of _tar_ and _feathers_; and that he might not in a short time forget them, they took off one of his _ears_; they then kindly shewed him the way out of town, without doing him any further injury.--it is supposed he will bend his course for newbern, and endeavour to take a passage in some vessel bound to the northern states." ------------------------- from the augusta chronicle. _a georgia shrew._ "why, sirs, i trust i may have leave to speak, and speak i will; i am no child, no babe: your betters have endur'd me say my mind; and if you cannot, best you stop your ears." the grand jury of burke have presented mary cammell as a common scold and disturber of the peaceable inhabitants of that county.[ ] we do not know the _penalty_, or if there be any attached to the offence of _scolding:_ but for the information of our burke neighbours, we would inform them that the late lamented and distinguished judge early decided, some years since, when a modern _xantippe_ was brought before him, that she should undergo the _punishment_ of _lustration_, by immersion three several times in the _oconee_. accordingly she was confined to the tail of a cart, and, accompanied by the hooting of the mob, conducted to the river, where she was publickly ducked, in conformity with the sentence of the court. should this punishment be awarded mary cammell, we hope, however, it may be attended with a more salutary effect than in the case we have just alluded to--the unruly subject of which, each time as she arose from the watery element, impiously exclaimed, with a ludicrous gravity of countenance, "glory to g--d." _boston palladium_, . [ ] she must have been an extraordinary scold to have disturbed a large county, where the houses are perhaps a half mile apart. ------------------------- criminals after a whipping sent to the castle to make nails. from "salem mercury," nov. , . four convicts, doomed by the superiour court, at their late session here, to the useful branch of nail making at the castle, yesterday morning took their departure hence, to enter on their new employment, having, with others, previously received the discipline of the post. ------------------------- a reverend forger. the "providence gazette" is our authority for the following obituary notice:-- died in march, , in wayne county, n.c., rev. thomas hines, an itinerant preacher. a newbern paper says: "in the saddle-bags of this servant of god and mammon were found his bible and a complete apparatus for the stamping and milling of dollars." ------------------------- _the supreme judicial court_ was held at ipswich on tuesday last. at this court the noted josiah abbot was found guilty of knowingly passing a forged and altered state note, and was sentenced to pay a fine of l. in days; if not then paid, to be set in the pillory.--[_the penalty of such an offence against the united states is_ death.] the same person was found guilty of a fraud, in stealing a summons, after it had been left by an officer, by reason of which he recovered a judgment by default, and was sentenced to pay a fine of l. in days; if not then paid, to be whipped. _salem gazette_, june , . ------------------------- in a paper of is mentioned the singular case of a man literally condemned "to eat his own words." _incredible punishment._ "a great book is a great evil," said an ancient writer,--an axiom which an unfortunate russian author felt to his cost. "whilst i was at moscow," says a pleasant traveller, "a quarto volume was published in favor of the liberties of the people,--a singular subject when we consider the place where the book was printed. in this work the iniquitous venality of the public functionaries, and even the conduct of the sovereign, was scrutinized and censured with great freedom. such a book, and in such a country, naturally attracted general notice, and the offender was taken into custody. after being tried in a very summary way, his production was determined to be a libel, and the writer was condemned to _eat his own words_. the singularity of such a sentence induced me to see it put into execution. a scaffold was erected in one of the most public streets of the city; the imperial provost, the magistrates, the physicians and surgeons of the czar attended; the book was separated from its binding, the margin cut off, and every leaf rolled up like a lottery ticket when taken out of the wheel at guildhall. the author was then served with them leaf by leaf by the provost, who put them into his mouth, to the no small diversion of the spectators; he was obliged to swallow this unpalatable food on pain of the knout,--in russia more dreadful than death. as soon as the medical gentlemen were of opinion that he had received into his stomach as much at the time as was consistent with his safety, the transgressor was sent back to prison, and the business resumed the two following days. after three very hearty but unpleasant meals, i am convinced by ocular proof that every leaf of the book was actually swallowed." _lon. pa._ _boston palladium._ ------------------------- here is a clever mode of punishing a wife-beater without the aid of counsel:-- a woman in new-york, who had been beaten by her husband, finding him fast asleep, sewed him up in the bed-clothes, and in that situation thrashed him soundly. _salem observer_, april , . ------------------------- conviction of a common scold, sept. , ; sentence not reported. _common scold_.--catharine fields was indicted and convicted for being a common scold. the trial was excessively amusing, from the variety of testimony and the diversified manner in which this xantippe pursued her virulent propensities. "ruder than march wind, she blew a hurricane;" and it was given in evidence that after having scolded the family individually, the bipeds and quadrupeds, the neighbours, hogs, poultry, and geese, she would throw the window open at night to scold the watchmen. her countenance was an index to her temper,--sharp, peaked, sallow, and small eyes. to be sentenced on saturday week.--_nat. adv._ ------------------------- _women gossips_.--among the many ordinances promulgated at st. helena in , we find the following:-- whereas several idle, gossiping women make it their business to go from house [to house] about the island, inventing and spreading false and scandalous reports of the good people thereof, and thereby sow discord and debate among neighbors, and often between men and their wives, to the great grief and trouble of all good and quiet people, and to the utter extinguishing of all friendship, amity, and good neighborhood: for the punishment and suppression whereof, and to the intent that all strife may be ended, charity revived, and friendship continued,--we do order that, if any woman, from henceforward, shall be convicted of tale bearing, mischief making, scolding, drunkenness, or any other notorious vice, that they shall be punished by ducking, or whipping, or such other punishment as their crimes or transgressions shall deserve, or as the governor and council shall think fit. _essex register_, . ------------------------- imprisonment for debt. the following scrap from a boston paper of has reference to an old method which creditors frequently resorted to in dealing with troublesome, and no doubt oftentimes unfortunate, debtors. _christmas day._ on this most glorious "day of days" there are in gaol for debt, in this town, the following persons, viz.: head of a family for -- do. -- -- - / -- do. -- -- -- do. -- -- -- do. -- -- -- do. -- -- -- do. -- -- -- do. for schooling } his children, } -- do. discharged !!! ----- who among the opulent is willing to restore a _father_ to his family and christmas fire side? ------------------------- sometimes debtors were not actually imprisoned, but were confined to what was called the "limits of the jail;" that is, certain streets within a specified distance of the jail. the writer distinctly remembers, when a boy, of having a man pointed out to him, of whom it was said he had refused to pay his debts, and so was only allowed to go at large "within the limits of the jail." the law under which persons were imprisoned for debt was abolished in massachusetts many years ago. ------------------------- somewhere about the year the tread-mill was introduced into england. it was recommended by the "society for the improvement of prison discipline." it was the invention of mr. cubitt, of ipswich, in england, and probably at that time or soon after it was used in this country. some years since there was one, as we are informed, at the massachusetts state prison at charlestown. _the tread-mill_.--we publish to-day an interesting description of the tread-mill, (a new invented machine to enforce industry in prisons,) accompanied by a plate representing the same, for the use of which we are indebted to the politeness of the editor of the gazette. the introduction of these mills into the english prisons is said to have produced much good, and the experiment is about to be tried in this country. the corporation of the city of new-york are building one in the yard of their penitentiary. one of the late london papers announces the singular fact that on the th of september, at the town-hall, southwark, there was no charge, either of felony, misdemeanor, or assault, within the extensive district, of five parishes, from the night before. crimes of all descriptions had lessened very much; and this decrease, it is said, is owing entirely to the heavy and tedious labor upon the prisoners at the mill. orders had been given for the erection of several more in england. _salem register_, . ------------------------- description of the tread mill _recommended by the society for the improvement of prison discipline._ the annexed engraving exhibits a party of prisoners in the act of working one of the tread wheels of the discipline mill invented by mr. cubitt, of ipswich, and recently erected at the house of correction for the county of surrey, situated at brixton. the view is taken from a corner of one of the ten airing yards of the prison, all of which radiate from the governor's house in the centre, so that from the window of his room _he commands a complete view into all the yards_. a building behind the tread wheel shed is the mill house, containing the necessary machinery for grinding corn and dressing the flour, also rooms for storing it, &c. on the right side of this building a pipe passes up to the roof, on which is a large cast iron reservoir, capable of holding some thousand gallons of water, for the use of the prison. this reservoir is filled by means of forcing pump machinery below, connected with the principal axis which works the machinery of the mill; this axis or shaft passes under the pavement of the several yards, and working by means of universal joints, at every turn communicates with the tread wheel of each class. the wheel, which is represented in the centre of the engraving, is exactly similar to a common water wheel; the treadboards upon its circumference are, however, of considerable length, so as to allow sufficient standing room for a row of from ten to twenty persons upon the wheel. their weight, the first moving power of the machine, produces the greatest effect when applied upon the circumference of the wheel at or near the level of its axle; to secure therefore this mechanical advantage, a screen of boards is fixed up in an inclined position above the wood, in order to prevent the prisoners from climbing or stepping up higher than the level required. a hand rail is fixed upon this screen, by holding which they retain their upright position upon the revolving wheel, the nearest side of which is exposed to view in the plate, in order to represent its cylindrical form much more distinctly than could otherwise have been done. in the original, however, both sides are closely boarded up, so that the prisoners have no access to the interior of the wheel, and all risk of injury whatever is prevented. by means of steps the gang of prisoners ascend at one end, and when the requisite number range themselves upon the wheel, it commences its revolutions. the effort, then, to every individual is simply that of ascending an endless flight of steps, their combined weight acting upon every successive stepping board precisely as a stream of water upon the float boards of a water wheel. during this operation each prisoner gradually advances from the end at which he mounted towards the opposite end of the wheel, from whence the last man taking his turn descends for rest, another prisoner immediately mounting as before to fill up the number required, without stopping the machine. the interval of rest may then be portioned to each man by regulating the number of those required to work the wheel with the whole number of the gang; thus if twenty-four are obliged to be upon the wheel, it will give to each man intervals of rest amounting to twelve minutes in every hour of labor. again, by varying the number of men upon the wheel, or the work inside the mill, so as to increase or diminish its velocity, the degree of hard labor or exercise for the prisoners may also be regulated. at brixton, the diameter of the wheel being five feet, and revolving twice in a minute, the space stepped over by each man is feet. from the _salem register_. ------------------------- travelling on sunday. at the session of the u. states circuit court at new-haven (conn.) last week came on the trial of _foster vs. huntington_. this was a prosecution instituted by _dr. foster_, of new-york, against _deacon eliphalet huntington_, a constable of lebanon (conn.), for arresting plaintiff's wife on sunday, the th of july, , at o'clock in the afternoon, and detained her at an inn until sun-down, and then released her on condition of appearing the next morning to answer for violating the sabbath. mrs. foster was travelling from new york city to her father's in lebanon for her health, and had arrived at east haddam on the morning of sunday, and took the regular conveyance connected with the steamboat, and had arrived near the meeting-house in lebanon at the time she was stopped, and was in sight of her father's (dr. sweet) house, when arrested. the action was for false imprisonment, and it was contended by the plaintiffs,-- st, that mrs. foster was travelling from necessity and charity, and so within the exception of the statute. d, that the defendant could not justify himself as constable unless he carried the person apprehended under the sabbath law before a justice. d, that as constable he had no power to detain, and that he did not disclose his authority as constable to arrest. and th, that the sabbath law and its provisions are unconstitutional. judge thompson charged the jury that the words "necessity and charity" in our statute mean not physical necessity, but moral fitness and propriety, and that it was incumbent on mrs. foster to show that there was some necessity of this kind operating on her when she left new york--she knowing that her regular route would require travelling on sunday; but that a constable when he arrests, must carry the prisoner, under the law, before a justice, and then he has done his duty; and as the defendant had not done it in this case, he was liable. the judge further expressed a decided opinion that the law was constitutional, and that before he could say a law was otherwise which had been acquiesced in so long, he should require the strongest reasons to be shown. as to what constituted an arrest, the judge remarked that force was not required, or a touching, but it must be a detention professed to be done by authority and an exercise of authority; which, he observed, was clearly proved in the present case. the damages should give at least the actual injury and something as smart money, if there was any bad motive. this the judge said did not appear, but the officer seemed to be impressed with a desire to discharge his duty. the jury returned a verdict of dollars damages and costs for the plaintiffs.--_new-haven reg._ [this was a case tried under the statute of connecticut against the right of unnecessary travelling on the sabbath. the result appears to be very remarkable. in the first place, we consider the law itself to be clearly unconstitutional, and we have never had the slightest doubt that if the question ever goes to washington, the supreme court will declare it unconstitutional, and reverse the decision of the connecticut court.--_boston centinel._] _salem observer_, may , . ------------------------- the ridiculous practice here recorded does not appear to have gained a foothold in america. it would have been, to say the least, less harmful in its effects than the hanging of witches or the whipping of quakers. prosecutions against animals. the second number of the american jurist, just published, contains a curious article relating to the prosecutions formerly instituted against animals, and for whom counsel was sometimes assigned by the court, in the same manner as is now done in cases of capital felony. the first case mentioned is a prosecution of some rats in the bishopric of autun, in france. they had become so mischievous that a bill in due form was filed against the rats, and a summons issued for their appearance before the court. the judge, unwilling to take advantage of their default, appointed an advocate to plead for them, and he managed their cause so adroitly that by means of this prosecution he obtained an elevation to the highest honor of his profession. in another case counsel was appointed to defend some caterpillars who had drawn upon themselves the vengeance of the law; but the ingenious arguments of their advocate availed nothing, and the caterpillars fell under the censure of a spiritual court, who ordered adjuration, prayers, and sprinkling of holy water. _salem observer_, may , . a very full and interesting account of this subject can be found in a recent number of the "popular science monthly." ------------------------- arrest in connecticut for teaching colored children. connecticut barbarism. we have been permitted to read a letter from miss prudence crandall, who is actually confined in jail in the town of brooklyn, conn., for teaching colored misses to read and write! the letter from miss crandall is dated "brooklyn jail, close confinement, june , ." miss crandall simply relates that she was arrested on the th, with her sister, by mr. cady, the sheriff of the county, and examined before justice rufus adams. miss crandall was found _guilty_ of teaching blacks to read, and was thereupon bound over, in the sum of $ , to appear at the superior court holden at brooklyn on the second tuesday of august next. miss crandall was sent to the county jail and put into the cell which had been occupied by watkins the murderer. at the close of her letter she says, "if all the prisoners are as happy as i am, i can assure you they do not bear much mental suffering." the friends of miss crandall were preparing to give the bond necessary for her release. _salem observer_, july , . ------------------------- innholders prosecuted as lately as for the crime of entertaining on the lord's day. _john f. trueman_ and _almoran holmes_, licensed innholders, convicted on several indictments for entertaining two inhabitants of boston on the lord's day, they not being travellers, strangers, or lodgers, were sentenced according to the act of , each to pay a fine of $ and costs of prosecution. _boston telegraph._ ------------------------- ludicrous punishment. in the first volume of the "library of american biography, conducted by jared sparks," the following incident in the life of ethan allen shows the character of the government in vermont in , when the inhabitants were resisting the claims of new-york to jurisdiction over their territory. a committee of safety was the highest judicatory, and allen was col. commandant of the territory. if any person presumed to act under the authority of the state of n. york, he was immediately arraigned and judgement pronounced against him, in the presence of many persons, by which he was sentenced to be tied to a tree and chastised "with the twigs of the wilderness" on his naked back, to the number of two hundred stripes, and immediately expelled from the district, and threatened with death if he should return, unless specially permitted by the convention. "in the midst of these signs, the mode of punishment was sometimes rather ludicrous than severe. in the town of arlington lived a doctor who openly professed himself a partizan of new-york, and was accustomed to speak disrespectfully of the convention and committees, espousing the cause of the new-york claimants, and advising people to purchase lands under their title. he was admonished by his neighbors, and made to understand that this tone of conversation was not acceptable, and was requested to change it, or at least to show his prudence by remaining silent. far from operating any reform--these hints only stirred up the ire of the courageous doctor, who forthwith armed himself with pistols and other weapons of defence, proclaiming his sentiments more boldly than ever, setting opposition at defiance, and threatening to try the full effects of his personal powers and implements of warfare on any man who should have the temerity to approach him with an unfriendly design. such a boast was likely to call up the martial spirits of his opponents, who accordingly came upon the doctor at an unguarded moment and obliged him to surrender at discretion. he was then transferred to the green mountain tavern, in bennington, where he was arraigned before the committee, who, not satisfied with his defence, sentenced him to a novel punishment, which they ordered to be put in immediate execution. "before the door of this tavern, which served the double purpose of a court-house and an inn, stood a sign-post twenty-five feet high, the top of which was adorned with the skin of a catamount, stuffed to the size of life, with its head turned towards new-york, and its jaws distended, showing large naked teeth, and grinning terror to all who should approach from that quarter. it was the judgment of the court that the contumacious doctor should be tied in a chair and drawn up by a rope to the catamount, where he was to remain suspended two hours--which punishment was inflicted in the presence of a numerous assemblage of people, much to their satisfaction and merriment. the doctor was then let down and permitted to depart to his own house." _salem observer_, april , . ------------------------- from the "essex register," feb. , . burning of a negro in georgia. from the augusta (geo.) chronicle, feb. . _execution_.--on friday last two negro men, named ephraim and sam, were executed in conformity to their sentence for the murder of their master, mr. thomas hancock, of edgefield district, south carolina; sam was burnt, and ephraim hung, and his head severed from his body and publicly exposed. the circumstances attending the crime for which these miserable beings have suffered, were of a nature so aggravated as imperiously demanded the terrible punishment which has been inflicted upon them. the burning of malefactors is a punishment only resorted to when absolute necessity demands a signal example. it must be a horrid and appalling sight to see a human being consigned to the flames. let even fancy picture the scene,--the pile, the stake, the victim! the mind sickens, and sinks under the oppression of its own feelings. what then must be the dread reality! from some of the spectators we learn that it was a scene which transfixed in breathless horror almost every one who witnessed it. as the flames approached him, the piercing shrieks of the unfortunate victim struck upon the heart with a fearful, painful vibration; but when the devouring element seized upon his body, all was hushed. yet the cry of agony still thrilled in the ear, and an involuntary and sympathetic shudder ran thro' the crowd. we hope that this awful dispensation of justice may be attended with such salutary effects as to forever preclude the necessity of its repetition. communication. if any massachusetts man can read the above without shuddering, and experiencing alternate emotions of horror and indignation, his heart must be harder than a millstone and colder than the ice of the poles. we know not the particular circumstances of the crime for which this poor wretch suffered, but as far as we can learn from the public prints, it was for the murder of his master. the probability is there was some provocation; for such dire deeds are not perpetrated without a strong and powerful impulse. it is however of no consequence; no matter what was his crime, such a punishment was abominable, and could not be inflicted, even if the laws permitted it, in our state. if that monster who committed the stoneham murder in cold blood, impelled solely by avarice, had not put an end to his own life, but had awaited his conviction, had been sentenced to such a punishment, although he would have merited, perhaps more than any other offender who has appeared in our times, the greatest sufferings, yet such a sentence could not be carried into effect. the people would have risen at once, animated by one sentiment, and without the least previous concert have prevented it. every man in the commonwealth, waiving all distinctions of condition or age, would have been seen, without consulting his neighbour or considering consequences, putting a new flint in his musket and girding on his sword. thank god! our feelings and love of order and obedience to proper authority can never be put to such a trial; for the moment we became free, and created our own political institutions, we made it a fundamental article of our constitution of government that "no magistrate or court of law shall inflict cruel or unusual punishment." in georgia such a punishment would not be inflicted upon a white man for any crime; and in the name of heaven, who deserves the greatest punishment for offences,--the white man, who is instructed in the principles of religion and morality, and is therefore justly accountable for his actions, or the negro, who is kept by the policy of the laws and the power of public opinion in a state of absolute ignorance of his duties, lest he should obtain a knowledge of his rights? d. ------------------------- singular account from the "salem gazette," april , . arrest of the dead. the united states gazette says:-- "while the papers from the south and the west are bringing back to us the report from mr. degrand's paper of the attachment of a dead body in boston, the eastern papers are bringing us assurances of the total illegality of any such act, and a contradiction of some of the important parts of mr. degrand's tale of horror. at the time of the first appearance of this story in our city, a gentleman of information assured the public through the medium of our columns that any such act was unlawful. the salem gazette appears to think that no act of the kind was ever lawful in massachusetts. the boston courier states that in feb., , the legislature of massachusetts passed a law making it highly penal for any civil officer to take the body of any deceased person, and the writer who furnishes this information says that 'he never heard that any such act of barbarism was ever attempted in that commonwealth,' but that the law was enacted to guard against the possibility of such an occurrence, by a mistake in the application of the terms, 'we command you to take the body of a.b.' &c. "this writer undoubtedly knows better than we both the laws and customs of his own state. but we have some recollections of an event of this nature transpiring in the southeastern part of massachusetts. if we have not forgotten the events (or remembered some that never took place), a sheriff in barnstable county, we think in brewster or dennis, attached the body of a deceased debtor on its way to the grave, about the year . a circumstance that fixes this event the more firmly in our mind is that it transpired about _this_ season of the year, the time of the gubernatorial election in that state, and was used as a subject of reproach to one of the political parties; and we incline to believe that this act, or, if it never took place, the report of it (for it _was_ talked of), gave rise to the law mentioned in the courier. "it is proper, in concluding these remarks, to state that to attach a dead body in massachusetts is now _against_ the law; and if the act ever took place which is detailed by mr. degrand, it was done by the advice of an _ignorant_ attorney." we are enabled to give an accurate statement of the event to which the editor of the u.s. gazette above alludes; we copy it from a publication made at the time:-- "on the th october, , capt. chillingsworth foster, jun., Æt. about years, departed this life; on the same day benjamin bangs, esq., of harwich, with one mr. scotto berry, of the same place, called at the house of the deceased for payment of a sum of about one hundred and thirty dollars, due said bangs, and requested the father of the deceased to give him his security, said bangs well knowing the parent to be in low circumstances, and about seventy-five years old, and the mother about the same age. the father refused to comply, stating his inability to answer so great a demand without suffering immediate distress. the said bangs then declared that if he did not comply, it was in his power to arrest the body of the deceased. the father still refused, and bangs left the house; and a most distressed one it was, this being the last son out of three, left these aged parents, the other two being lost at sea, or died. "the monday following was appointed to have the deceased buried, when col. jonathan snow appeared as sheriff, with a writ to serve on the body. here the melancholy scene commenced, a part of the relations being assembled, with the aged parents convulsed in sorrow; no one can paint their feelings but those who have children and are denied them the right of christian burial. the usual ceremonies on such occasions were however performed, and an appropriate prayer was delivered by the rev. john simpkins, and the funeral procession formed and proceeded with the corpse about one and a half mile, and very near to the spot of the grave, when the said sheriff arrested the coffin, without any service on the body, and it was set down in the middle of the highway nearly abreast of said bangs' dwelling house, and forbid proceeding any further. a large company who followed, with the mourners, soon after retired, and left the officer in charge of the body. after lying in this situation for some time, one of the grand jurors ordered it out of the high road; this was complied with by the sheriff, by placing it under the window of the said bangs, and about sunset still further removed it into bangs' dwelling-house. by this inhuman proceeding the aged parents were deprived of seeing their last and only son buried, as were the widow of the deceased and five children. so distressing a scene never was witnessed in this place, and perhaps not in the most barbarous nations. between seven and eight of the clock, the same evening, the body was buried by a few individuals, and by the consent of said benjamin bangs, esq., after he had inflicted all the wounds he could on the feelings of the poor grey-headed parents and their relations." the barbarity and illegality of this conduct of b. bangs, esq. (an influential democrat of that day), were viewed with indignation from all quarters. the statute of feb., , on this subject was not passed to render _illegal_ the arrest of a dead body of a debtor, for that was _always_ illegal, but its object was to fix the punishment, instead of leaving it to the discretion of the courts. many undoubtedly recollect the instance at portland several years before, in which a debtor who was on the limits was suddenly taken sick and carried out of the limits, where he died. it was then decided to be the law that the debtor's bond was not broken unless his body was out of the limits by his own agency and will. so disinterring dead bodies of men was always a misdemeanor, but in a law was passed by our general court to fix the penalties. ------------------------- the case of stephen merrill clark is remembered by many people in salem and its vicinity. _supreme judicial court._ at the present term of this court in salem, andrew dunlap, john foster, and solomon whipple, esqrs. were admitted counsellors, and asa w. wildes, esq. an attorney of said court. _capital trial_.--on tuesday stephen merrill clark, a lad about years of age, was indicted for the crime of arson alleged to have been committed in newburyport, was arraigned the same day, and pleaded _not guilty_. the day for his trial is not yet fixed.--the court assigned him leverett saltonstall and john g. king, esquires, for his counsel on his trial. _salem observer_, nov. , . clark was subsequently convicted of the crime for which he was tried, and executed upon salem neck in . he had made a confession of his guilt; but considering his youth, and the circumstances of his having been instigated by others, as was believed, to the commission of the crime, many humane people thought there should have been some mitigation of the punishment. generously made available by the google books library project (https://books.google.com) note: images of the original pages are available through the google books library project. see https://books.google.com/books?id=pv haqaamaaj&hl=en american home series norman e. richardson, editor the punishment of children by felix adler [illustration: logo] the abingdon press new york cincinnati editorial note the material contained in this pamphlet was originally delivered in three addresses before the ethical culture society of new york city. special permission has been given to have it reprinted in this form. the ethical nurture of the child is a distinct responsibility which no parent can neglect with impunity. when ignorant of the more elementary principles of punishment, parents easily fall into one of two serious errors. the use of harsh and severely arbitrary methods causes the child's fine ethical sensibilities to become dull. through indifference or careless neglect, the child becomes willful, erratic, or self-indulgent. in this study dr. adler, with remarkable skill, guides the parent between these two extremes. he shows that it is possible to be consistent without being harsh, gentle without being vacillating. the mastery of the art of punishment is also one of the most direct means of ethical self-culture. it is to be hoped that a careful study of this subject may result in a refinement of the attitude of parents toward each other, as well as toward their children. norman e. richardson. printed in the united states of america first edition printed april, reprinted july, ; march, the punishment of children i it is man's moral duty to act as the physician of his enemies and seek to cure them of their wrongdoing. how much more, then, should this attitude be taken toward those whom we love--toward our children, if we find their characters marred by serious faults? in discussing the subject of punishment i do not for a moment think of covering the innumerable problems which it suggests. many books have been written on this subject; prolonged study and the experience of a lifetime are barely sufficient for a mastery of its details. i shall content myself with suggesting a few simple rules and principles, and shall consider my object gained if i induce my hearers to enter upon a closer investigation of the delicate and manifold questions involved. . never administer punishment in anger the first general rule to which i would refer is, _never administer punishment in anger_. a saying of socrates deserves to be carefully borne in mind. turning one day upon his insolent servant, speucippus, who had subjected him to great annoyance, he exclaimed, "i should beat you now, sirrah, were i not so angry with you." the practice of most men is the very opposite; they beat and punish because they _are_ angry. but it is clear that we cannot trust ourselves to correct another while we are enraged. the intensity of our anger is proportional to the degree of annoyance which we have experienced, but it happens quite frequently that a great annoyance may be caused by a slight fault, just as, conversely, the greatest fault may cause us only slight annoyance, or may even contribute to our pleasure. we should administer serious punishment where the fault is serious, and slight punishment where the fault is slight. but, as i have just said, a slight fault may sometimes cause serious annoyance, just as a slight spark thrown into a powder magazine may cause a destructive explosion. and we do often resemble a powder magazine, being filled with suppressed inflammable irritations, so that a trivial naughtiness on the part of a child may cause a most absurd display of temper. but is it the child's fault that we are in this irascible condition? to show how a slight fault may sometimes cause a most serious annoyance, let me remind you of the story of vedius pollio, the roman. he was one day entertaining the emperor augustus at dinner. during the banquet a slave who was carrying one of the crystal goblets by which his master set great store, in his nervousness suffered the goblet to fall from his hand so that it broke into a thousand pieces on the floor. pollio was so infuriated that he ordered the slave to be bound and thrown into a neighboring fishpond, to be devoured by the lampreys. the emperor interfered to save the slave's life, but pollio was too much enraged to defer even to the emperor's wish. thereupon augustus ordered that every crystal goblet in the house should be broken in his presence, that the slave should be set free, and that the obnoxious fishpond should be closed. the breaking of a goblet or vase is a good instance of how a slight fault, a mere inadvertency, may cause serious damage and great chagrin. in the same way an unseasonable word, loud conversation, a bit of pardonable mischief, which we should overlook under ordinary circumstances, may throw us into a fury when we are out of sorts. when we have urgent business and are kept waiting, we are apt, unless we keep a curb on our tempers, to break forth into violent complaints, which indeed are quite proportional to the amount of annoyance we experience, but not necessarily to the fault of the person who occasions it. our business is to cure faults, and in order to accomplish this end the punishment should be meted out in due proportion to the fault. instead of following this principle, the great majority of men when they punish are not like reasonable beings, selecting right means toward a true end, but like hot springs which boil over because they cannot contain themselves. we ought never to punish in anger. no one can trust himself when in that state; an angry man is always liable to overshoot the mark; we must wait until our angry feeling has had time to cool. do i then advise that we administer punishment in cold blood? no, we ought to correct the faults of others with a certain moral warmth expressed in our words and manner, a warmth which is produced by our reprehension of the fault, not by the annoyance which it causes us. this, then, is the first rule: _never punish in anger_. . distinguish between the child and the fault the second rule is that in correcting a child we should be careful to distinguish between the child and its fault; we should not allow the shadow of the fault to darken the whole nature of the child. we should treat the fault as something accidental which can be removed. vulgar persons, when a child has told a falsehood, say, "you liar." they identify the child with the fault of lying, and thereby imply that this vice is ingrained in its nature. they do not say or imply, "you have told a falsehood, but you will surely not do so again; hereafter you will tell the truth"; they say, "you are a liar"; which is equivalent to saying, "lying has become part and parcel of your nature." in the same way when a child has proved itself incapable of mastering a certain task, the thoughtless parent or teacher may exclaim, impatiently, "you are a dunce"; that is to say, "you are a hopeless case; nothing but stupidity is to be expected of you." all opprobrious epithets of this sort are to be most scrupulously avoided. even to the worst offender one should say: "you have acted thus in one case, perhaps in many cases, but you can act otherwise; the evil has not eaten into the core of your nature. there is still a sound part in you; there is good at the bottom of your soul, and if you will only assert your better nature, you can do well." we are bound to show confidence in the transgressor. our confidence may be disappointed a hundred times, but it must never be wholly destroyed, for it is the crutch on which the weak lean in their feeble efforts to walk. now, such language as "you are a dunce," "you are a liar," is, to be sure, used only by the vulgar; but many parents who would not use such words imply as much by their attitude toward their child; they indicate by their manner, "well, nothing good is to be expected of you." this attitude of the parents is born of selfishness; the child has disappointed their expectations, and the disappointment, instead of making them more tender toward the child, makes them impatient. but this is not the attitude of the physician whose business it is to cure evil. we must give the child to understand that we still have hope of his amendment; _the slightest improvement should be welcomed with an expression of satisfaction_. we should never attach absolute blame to a child, never overwhelm it with a general condemnation. and in like manner we should never give absolute praise, never injure a child by unlimited approbation. the words, "_excellent_," "_perfect_," _which are sometimes used in school reports, are inexcusable_. i have seen the object of education thwarted in the case of particularly promising pupils by such unqualified admiration. no human being is ethically perfect, and to tell a child that he is perfect is to encourage a superficial way of looking upon life and to pamper his conceit. the right attitude is to say or to imply by our manner, "you have done well thus far; go on as you have begun and try hereafter to do still better." such words as these fall like sunshine into the soul, warming and fructifying every good seed. on the other hand, to tell a child that he is perfect may induce him to relax his effort, for having reached the summit he does not feel the need of further exertion. we should correct faults in such a way as to imply that not everything is lost. and we should praise merit in such a way as to imply that not everything is yet achieved; that, on the contrary, the goal is still far, far in the distance. everything, as i have said, depends upon the attitude of the parent or instructor. those who possess educational tact--a very rare and precious quality--adopt the right attitude by a sort of instinct. but those who do not possess it naturally can acquire it, at least to a certain degree, by reflecting upon the underlying principles of punishment. . do not lecture children the third rule is, _do not lecture children_. one feels tempted to say to some parents: "you do not succeed as well as you might in the training of your children because you talk too much. the less you say the more effective will your discipline be. let your measures speak for you." when punishment is necessary let it come upon the child like the action of a natural law--calm, unswerving, inevitable. do not attempt to give reasons or to argue with the child concerning the punishment you are about to inflict. if the child is in danger of thinking your punishment unjust, it may be expedient to explain the reasons of your action, but do so after the punishment has been inflicted. there are parents who are perpetually scolding their children. the fact that they scold so much is proof of their educational helplessness. they do not know what measures of discipline to apply, hence they scold. often their scolding is due to momentary passion, and the child intuitively detects that this is so. if the parent is in ill humor, a mischievous prank, a naughty word, an act of disobedience sometimes puts him into a towering passion; at other times the same offense may be lightly considered, or even worse offenses passed over with meaningless "don't do that again." the child perceives this vacillation, and learns to look upon a scolding as a mere passing shower, hiding its head under shelter until the storm has blown over. other parents are given to delivering lengthy homilies to their children, and then often express surprise that all their sound doctrine, all their beautiful sermons, have no effect whatever. if they would pause to consider for a moment, they could easily see why their lectures have no effect, why they pass "in at one ear and out at the other." their lectures on right and wrong are generally too abstract for the child's comprehension, and often do not touch its case at all. moreover, the iteration of the same dingdong has the effect of blunting the child's apprehension. a stern rebuke is occasionally necessary and does good, but it should be short, clear, incisive. a moralizing talk with an older child sometimes does good. the parent should not, however, indulge in generalities, but, looking over the record of the child for the past weeks or months, should pick out the definite points in which it has transgressed, thus holding up a picture of the child's life to its own eyes to reenforce the memory of its faults and stimulate its conscience. in general, it may be said that the less the parent talks about moral delinquencies the better. on this rule of parsimony in respect to words particular stress is to be laid. . undeviating consistency the next rule is quite as important as the preceding ones. it is that of _undeviating consistency_. were not the subject altogether too painful, it would be amusing to observe how weak mothers--and weak fathers too--constantly eat their own words. "how often have i told you not to do this thing, but now you have done it again." "well, what is to follow?" secretly asks the child. "the next time you do it i shall surely punish you." the next time the story repeats itself; and so it is always "the next time." very often foolish threats are made, which the parents know they cannot and will not carry out; and do you suppose that the children do not know as well as you that the threat you have been uttering is an idle one? we should be extremely careful in deciding what to demand of a child. our demands should be determined by a scrupulous regard for the child's own good, but when the word has gone forth, especially in the case of young children, we should insist on unquestioning obedience. our will must be recognized by the child as its law; it must not suspect that we are governed by passion or caprice. there are those that protest that this is too stern a method, that gentle treatment, persuasion, and love ought to suffice to induce the child to obey. love and persuasion do suffice in many cases, but they do not answer in all; and, besides, i hold it to be important that the child should sometimes be brought face to face with a law which is superior to the law of its own will, and should be compelled to bend to the higher law, as expressed in its parent's wishes, merely because it is a higher law. and so far from believing this is to be a cruel method, i believe that the opposite method of always wheedling and coaxing children into obedience is really cruel. many a time later on in life its self-love will beat in vain against the immutable barriers of law, and if the child has not learned to yield to rightful authority in youth, the necessity of doing so later on will only be the more bitterly felt. the child should sometimes be compelled to yield to the parent's authority simply because the parental authority expresses a higher law than that of its own will. and this leads me to speak incidentally of a subject which is nearly allied to the one we are now discussing. it is a well-known trick of the nursery to divert the child from some object which it is not to have by quickly directing its attention to another object. if a child cries for the moon, amuse it with the light of a candle; if it insists upon handling a fragile vase, attract its attention to the doll; if it demands a knife with which it might injure itself, call in the rattle to the rescue. this method is quite proper for baby children, but it is often continued to a much later age with harmful results. as soon as the self-consciousness of the child is fairly developed, that is, about the third year, this method should no longer be employed. it is important that the will power of the young be strengthened. now, the more the will is accustomed to fasten upon the objects of desire the stronger does it become, while, by rapidly introducing new objects the will is distracted and a certain shiftlessness is induced, the will being made to glide from one object to another without fixing itself definitely upon any one. it is far better to allow a child to develop a will of its own, but to make it understand that it must at times yield this will to the will of the parent, than thus to distract its attention. if it wants a knife which it ought not to have, make it understand firmly, though never harshly, that it cannot have what it wants, that it must yield its wish to the parent's wish. nor is it at all necessary every time to give the reasons why. the fact that the parent commands is a sufficient reason. the rules thus far mentioned are, that we shall not punish in anger, that we shall not identify the child with its fault, that we shall be sparing with admonitions and let positive discipline speak for itself, and that, while demanding nothing which is unreasonable, we should insist on implicit obedience. . physical pleasure as a reward of virtue there is one question that touches the general subject of punishment and reward which is in some sense the most important and vital of all the questions we are considering. it throws a bright light or a deep shadow on the whole theory of life, according to the point of view we take. i allude to the question whether the pleasures of the senses should be treated as a reward for the performance of duty. a parent says to his child: "you have been good to-day; you have studied your lessons; your deportment has been satisfactory: i will reward you by giving you sweetmeats, or by taking you on a holiday into the country." but what connection can there possibly be between the performance of duty and the physical pleasure enjoyed in eating sweetmeats? is not the connection a purely arbitrary one? does it not depend upon the notion that there is no intrinsic satisfaction in a moral act? we ought to see that it is radically wrong to make such enjoyments the reward of virtue; we ought to have the courage to make application of our better theories to the education of our children if we would develop in them the germs of a nobler, freer manhood and womanhood. i admit, indeed, that a child is not yet sufficiently developed to stand on its own feet morally, and that its virtuous inclinations need to be supported and assisted; but we can give it this assistance by means of our approbation or disapprobation. to be in disgrace with its parents ought to be for a child the heaviest penalty. to have their favor should be its highest reward. but simply because a child is most easily taken on the side of its animal instincts, are we to appeal to it on that side? should it not be our aim to raise the young child above the mere desire for physical gratification, to prevent it from attaching too much importance to such pleasures? the conduct of many parents, however, i fear, tends to foster artificially that lower nature in their offspring which it should rather be their aim to repress. by their method of bestowing extraneous rewards, parents contribute to pervert the character of their children in earliest infancy, giving it a wrong direction from the start. but, it may be objected, is there not a wholesome truth contained in saint paul's saying that "he who will not work, neither shall he eat"? is not our conscience offended when we see a person enjoying the pleasures of life who will perform none of its more serious duties? and should we not all agree that, in a certain sense, virtue entitles one to pleasure, and the absence of virtue ought to preclude one from pleasure? to meet this point let us dwell for a moment on the following considerations. man is endowed with a variety of faculties, and a different type of pleasure or satisfaction arises from the exercise of each. pleasure, in general, may be defined as the feeling which results from successful exercise of any of our faculties--physical, mental or moral. a successful rider takes pleasure in horsemanship, an athlete in the lifting of weights. the greater an artist's mastery over his art, the greater the pleasure he derives from it. the more complex and difficult the problems which a scholar is able to resolve, the more delight does he find in study. the same is true of the moral nature. the more a man succeeds in harmonizing his inner life, and in helping to make the principles of social harmony prevail in the world about him, the more satisfaction will he derive from the exercise of virtue. but the main fact which we are bound to remember is that it is impossible to pay for the exercise of any one faculty by the pleasure derived from the exercise of another; that each faculty is legitimately paid only in its own coin. if you ask a horseman who has just returned from an exhilarating ride what compensation he expects to receive for the exercise he has taken, he will probably look at you in blank amazement, with grave misgivings as to your sanity. if you ask a scientist what reward he expects to receive for the pursuit of knowledge, he will answer you, if he is an expert in the use of his intellect, that he expects no ulterior reward of any kind; that not positive knowledge so much as the sense of growth in the attainment of knowledge is the highest reward which he can imagine. and the same answer you will get from a person who is expert in the use of his moral faculty, namely, that not virtue so much as growth in virtue, not the results achieved by the exercise of the faculty, but the successful exercise itself is the supreme compensation. i have used the word "expert" in all these cases, and precisely "there's the rub." the reason why many persons cannot get themselves to believe that the exercise of the mental and moral faculties is a sufficient reward is because they are not expert, because they have not penetrated far enough along the lines of knowledge and virtue to obtain the satisfactions of them. but the same applies to the tyro in any pursuit. a rider who has not yet acquired a firm seat in the saddle will hardly derive much pleasure from horseback exercise. an awkward, clumsy dancer, who cannot keep step, will get no pleasure from dancing. there is no help for the tyro, no matter in what direction he aims at excellence, except to go on trying until he becomes expert. i have said that each faculty is sovereign in its own sphere, that each provides its proper satisfactions within itself and does not borrow them from the domain of any of the others. nevertheless we are constrained to admit the important truth that is contained in the saying of saint paul. and this truth, it seems to me, may be formulated in the words that, while physical pleasure is not the reward of virtue, virtue ought to be regarded as the condition _sine qua non_ of the enjoyment of physical pleasures--at least, so far as the distribution of such pleasures is within the power of the educator or of society. this proposition depends on the difference in rank that subsists between our faculties, of which some are superior and others inferior, the moral and intellectual faculties rightfully occupying the top of the scale. we inwardly rebel when we see the indolent and self-indulgent living in luxury and affluence. and this not because the enjoyments which such persons command are the proper compensations of virtue, or because physical pain would be the proper punishment of their moral faults, but because we demand that the lower faculties shall not be exercised at the expense and to the neglect of the higher, that the legitimate rank and order of our faculties shall not be subverted. applying this idea to the case of children, i think it would be perfectly proper to deny a child that has failed to study its lessons or has given other occasion for serious displeasure, the privilege of going on a holiday to the country or enjoying its favorite sports. everything, however, will depend--as so much in education does depend--on the manner; in this instance on what we imply in our denial rather than on what we expressly state. the denial, it seems to me, should be made on the ground that there is a proper order in which the faculties are to be exercised; that the higher, the mental, faculties should be exercised first, and that he who will not aim at the higher satisfactions, neither shall he, so far as we can prevent, enjoy the lower. on the other hand, by making physical pleasures--sports, games and the like--the reward of study, we exalt these satisfactions so as to make _them_ seem the higher, so as to make the satisfactions of knowledge appear of lesser value compared with the satisfactions of the senses. in an ideal community every one of our faculties would be brought into play in turn, without our ever being tempted to regard the pleasures of the one as compensation for the exercise of the other. the human soul has often been compared to an instrument with many strings. perhaps it may not be amiss to compare it to an orchestra. in this orchestra the violins represent the intellectual faculties. they lead the rest. then there are the flute-notes of love, the trumpet tones of ambition, the rattling drums and cymbals of the passions and appetites. each of these instruments is to come in its proper place, while the moral plan of life is the musical composition which they all assist in rendering. what we should try to banish is the vicious idea of extraneous reward, the notion that man is an animal whose object in life is to eat and drink, to possess gold and fine garments, and to gratify every lower desire, and that he can be brought to labor only on condition that he may obtain such pleasures. what we should impress instead is the notion that labor itself is satisfying--manual labor, mental labor, moral labor--and that the more difficult the labor, the higher the compensating satisfactions. ii i have thus far endeavored to combat the notion that physical pleasure should be offered as a reward for virtue, and physical pain inflicted as a punishment for moral faults. now we are in a position to apply this conclusion to some special questions which it is proposed to take up for consideration. the first of these relates to corporal punishment. . corporal punishment it was in that period of history which is so justly called the dark ages that the lurid doctrine of hell as a place for the eternal bodily torture of the wicked haunted men's minds, and the same mediæval period witnessed the most horrible examples of corporal punishment in the schools and in the homes. this was no mere coincidence. as the manners of the people are so will their religion be. savage parents who treat their children in a cruel, passionate way naturally entertain the idea of a god who treats his human children in the same way. if we wish to purify the religious beliefs of men, we must first ameliorate their daily life. there was once a schoolmaster who boasted that during his long and interesting career he had inflicted corporal punishment more than a million times. in modern days the tide of public opinion has set strongly against corporal punishment. it is being abolished in many of our public institutions, and the majority of cultivated parents have a decided feeling against availing themselves of this method of discipline. but the mere sentiment against it is not sufficient. is the opposition to it the result possibly of that increased sensitiveness to pain which we observe in the modern man, of the indisposition to inflict or to witness suffering? then some stern teacher might tell us that to inflict suffering is sometimes necessary, that it is a sign of weakness to shrink from it, that as the surgeon must sometimes apply the knife in order to effect a radical cure, so the conscientious parent should sometimes inflict physical pain in order to eradicate grievous faults. the stern teacher might warn us against "sparing the rod and spoiling the child." we must not, therefore, base our opposition to corporal punishment merely on sentimental grounds. and there is no need for doing so, for there are sound principles on which the argument may be made to rest. corporal punishment does not merely conflict with our tenderer sympathies, it thwarts and defeats the purpose of moral reformation. in the first place it brutalizes the child; secondly, in many cases it breaks the child's spirit, making it a moral coward; and, thirdly, it tends to weaken the sense of shame, on which the hope of moral improvement depends. _corporal punishment brutalizes the child._ we may be justified in beating a brute, though, of course, never in a cruel, merciless way. a lazy beast of burden may be stirred up to work; an obstinate mule must feel the touch of the whip. corporal punishment implies that a rational human being is on the level of an animal.[ ] its underlying thought is: you can be controlled only through your animal instincts; you can be moved only by an appeal to your bodily feelings. it is a practical denial of that higher nature which exists in every human being, and this is a degrading view of human character. a child which is accustomed to be treated like an animal is apt to behave like an animal. thus corporal punishment instead of moralizing serves to demoralize the character. in the next place _corporal punishment often breaks the spirit of a child_. have you ever observed how some children that have been often whipped will whine and beg off when the angry parent is about to take out the rattan: "o, i will never do it again; o, let me off this time." what an abject sight it is--a child fawning and entreating and groveling like a dog! and must not the parent too feel humiliated in such a situation! courage is one of the noblest of the manly virtues. we should train our children to bear unavoidable pain without flinching, but sensitive natures can only be slowly accustomed to endure suffering; and chastisement, when it is frequent and severe, results in making a sensitive child more and more cowardly, more and more afraid of the blows. in such cases it is the parents themselves, by their barbarous discipline, who stamp the ugly vice of cowardice upon their children. even more disastrous is the third effect of corporal punishment, that of _blunting the sense of shame_. some children quail before a blow, but others, of a more obstinate disposition, assume an attitude of dogged indifference. they hold out the hand, they take the stinging blows, they utter no cry, they never wince; they will not let the teacher or father triumph over them to that extent; they walk off in stolid indifference. now, a blow is an invasion of personal liberty. every one who receives a blow feels a natural impulse to resent it. but boys who are compelled by those in authority over them to submit often to such humiliation are liable to lose the finer feeling for what is humiliating. they become, as the popular phrase puts it, "hardened." their sense of shame is deadened. but sensitiveness to shame is that quality of our nature on which, above all others, moral progress depends. the stigma of public disgrace is one of the most potent safeguards of virtue. the world cries "shame" upon the thief, and the dread of the disgrace which is implied in being called a thief acts as one of the strongest preventives upon those whom hunger and poverty might tempt to steal. the world cries "shame" upon the lawbreaker in general, but those who in their youth are accustomed to be put to shame by corporal punishment are likely to become obtuse to other forms of disgrace as well. the same criticism applies to those means of publicly disgracing children which have been in vogue so long--the fool's cap, the awkward squad, the bad boy's bench, and the like. when a child finds itself frequently exposed to ignominy it becomes indifferent to ignominy, and thus the door is opened for the entrance of the worst vices. there is one excellence, indeed, which i perceive in corporal punishment; it is an excellent means of breeding criminals. parents who inflict frequent corporal punishment, i make bold to say, are helping to prepare their children for a life of crime; they put them on a level with the brute, break their spirit and weaken their sense of shame. . the evil of the mark system the second special question which we have to consider relates to the mark system. as this system is applied to hundreds of thousands of school children, the question whether that influence is good or evil concerns us closely. i am of the opinion that it is evil. the true aim of every school should be to lead the pupils to pursue knowledge for the sake of knowledge, and to preserve a correct deportment in order to gain the approbation of conscience and of the teacher whose judgment represents the verdict of conscience. i object to the mark system because it introduces a kind of outward payment for progress in study and good conduct. the marks which the pupil receives stand for the dollars and cents which the man will receive later on for his work. so much school work performed, so many marks in return. but a child should be taught to study for the pleasure which study gives, and for the improvement of the mind which is its happy result. i know of a school where the forfeiture of twelve marks was made the penalty for a certain misdemeanor. one day a pupil, being detected in a forbidden act, turned to the teacher and said, "i agree to the forfeit, you can strike off my twelve marks," and then went on openly transgressing the rule, as if he had paid out so many shillings for an enjoyment which he was determined to have; as if the outward forfeit could atone for the antimoral spirit by which the act was inspired. but how is it possible by any external system of marks to change the antimoral spirit of an offender? i object, furthermore, to the marking system because the discrimination to which it leads can never be really just. one boy receives an average of ninety-seven and one half per cent, and another of ninety-five. the one who receives ninety-seven and one half thinks himself superior to, and is ranked as the superior of the one who has received only ninety-five. but is it possible to rate mental and moral differences between children in this arithmetical fashion? above all, i object to this system because it appeals to a low spirit of competition among the young in order to incite them to study. "ambition is avarice on stilts," as landor puts it. of course it is better to try to outshine others in what is excellent than in what is vicious; but if the object be that of outshining others at all, of gaining superiority over others, no matter how high the faculties may be which are called into exercise, the motive is impure and ought to be condemned. there is a general impression abroad that men are not yet good enough to make it practicable to appeal to their better nature. but it is forgotten that by constantly appealing to the baser impulses we give these undue prominence, and starve out and weaken the nobler instincts. whatever the truth may be in regard to later life, it seems to me culpable to foster this sort of competition in young children. now, the mark spirit does foster such a spirit in our schools. it teaches the pupils to work for distinction rather than for the solid satisfaction of growth in intelligence and mental power. doubtless, where the method of instruction is mechanical, where the atmosphere of the classroom is dull and lifeless, and the tasks are uninteresting, it is necessary to use artificial means in order to keep the pupils to their work; it is necessary to give them the sweet waters of flattered self-esteem in order to induce them to swallow the dry-as-dust contents of a barren school learning. but is it not possible to have schools in which every subject taught shall be made interesting to the scholars, in which the ways of knowledge shall become the ways of pleasantness, in which there shall be sufficient variety in the program of lessons to keep the minds of the pupils constantly fresh and vigorous, in which the pupils shall not be rewarded by being dismissed at an earlier hour than usual from the school, but in which possibly they shall consider it reward to be allowed to remain longer than usual? and, indeed, requests of this sort are often made in schools of the better kind, and in such schools there is no need of an artificial mark system, no need to stimulate the unwholesome ambition of the pupils, no need to bribe them to perform their tasks. rather do such pupils look with affection upon their school; and the daily task itself is a delight and a sufficient reward. i do not, of course, oppose the giving of reports to children. such expressions as "good," "fair" and "poor," which formulate the teacher's opinion of the pupil from time to time, are indispensable, inasmuch as they acquaint the parents and the pupil himself with the instructor's general approval or disapprobation. i only oppose the numerical calculation of merit and demerit, and the vulgar method of determining the pupil's rank in the class according to percentages. under that method the pupils, having pursued knowledge only as a means to the end of satisfying their pride and vanity, relax their efforts when they have gained this ambitious aim. they cease to take any deeper interest in the pursuit of knowledge the moment they have achieved their purpose. the notorious failure of the system, despite all its artificial stimulants, to create lasting attachment and devotion to intellectual pursuits condemns the whole idea of marks, to my mind, beyond appeal. . "natural penalties" we pass next to the method for correcting the faults of children which has been proposed by herbert spencer in his collected essays on education. these essays have attracted great attention, as anything would be sure to do which comes from so distinguished a source. i have heard people who are ardent admirers of spencer say, "we base the education of our children entirely on mr. spencer's book." all the more necessary is it to examine whether the recommendations of his book will wholly bear criticism. i cannot help feeling that if mr. spencer had been more thoroughly at home in the best educational literature he would not have presented to us an old method as if it were new, and would not have described that which is at best but a second- or third-rate help in moral education as the central principle of it all, the keynote of the whole theory of the moral training of the young. the method which he advises us to adopt is that of _visiting upon the child the natural penalties of its transgression_, of causing it to experience the inevitable consequences of evil acts in order that it may avoid evil, of building up the moral nature of the child, by leading it to observe the outward results of its acts. mr. spencer points out that when a child puts its finger into the flame, or when it incautiously touches a hot stove, it is burned; "a burnt child shuns the fire." when a child carelessly handles a sharp knife it is apt to cut its fingers. this is a salutary lesson; it will be more careful thereafter; this is the method of nature, namely, of teaching by experience. and this is a kind of cure-all which he offers for general application. he does, indeed, admit at the close of his essay, that, in certain cases, where the evil consequences are out of all proportion to the fault, some other method than that of experience must be adopted. but, in general, he recommends this method of nature, as he calls it. for instance, a child in the nursery has littered the floor with its toys, and after finishing its play refuses to put them away. when next the child asks for its toy box the reply of its mother should be: "the last time you had your toys you left them lying on the floor and jane had to pick them up. jane is too busy to pick up every time the things you leave about, and i cannot do it myself, so that, as you will not put away your toys when you have done with them, i cannot let you have them." this is obviously a natural consequence and must be so recognized by the child. or a little girl, constance by name, is scarcely ever ready in time for the daily walk. the governess and the other children are almost invariably compelled to wait. in the world the penalty of being behind time is the loss of some advantage that one would otherwise have gained. the train is gone, or the steamboat is just leaving its moorings, or the good seats in the concert room are filled; and every one may see that it is the prospective deprivation entailed by being late which prevents people from being unpunctual. should not this prospective deprivation control the child's conduct also? if constance is not ready at the appointed time the natural result should be that she is left behind and loses her walk. or, again, a boy is in the habit of recklessly soiling and tearing his clothes. he should be compelled to clean them and to mend the tear as well as he can. and if having no decent clothes to wear, the boy is ever prevented from joining the rest of the family on a holiday excursion and the like, it is manifest that he will keenly feel the punishment and perceive that his own carelessness is the cause of it. but i think it can easily be made clear that this method of moral discipline should be an exceptional and not a general one, and that there are not a few but many occasions when it becomes simply impossible to visit upon children the natural penalties of their transgressions. in these cases the evil consequences are too great or too remote for us to allow the child to learn from experience. a boy is leaning too far out of the window; shall we let him take the natural penalty of his folly? the natural penalty would be to fall and break his neck. or a child is about to rush from a heated room into the cold street with insufficient covering; shall we let the child take the natural penalty of its heedlessness? the natural penalty might be an attack of pneumonia. or, again, in certain parts of the country it is imprudent to be out on the water after nightfall owing to the danger of malaria. a boy who is fond of rowing insists upon going out in his boat after dark; shall we allow him to learn by experience the evil consequences of his act and gain wisdom by suffering the natural penalty? the natural penalty might be that he would come home in a violent fever. to show how much mischief the application of the spencerian method might work, let me mention a case which came under my observation. a certain teacher had been studying herbert spencer and was much impressed with his ideas. one wet, rainy day a number of children came to school without overshoes. the teacher had often told them that they must wear their overshoes when it rained; having neglected to do so, their feet were wet. now came the application of the natural penalty theory. instead of keeping the children near the fire while their shoes were being dried in the kitchen, they were allowed to run about in their stocking feet in the large school hall in order to fix in their minds the idea that, as they had made their shoes unfit to wear, they must now go without them. this was in truth moral discipline with a vengeance. it is, in many instances, impossible to let the natural penalties of their transgressions fall upon children; it would be dangerous to health, to life and limb, and also to character, to do so. let me be perfectly understood just here: i do not deny that the method of natural penalties is capable of being applied to advantage in the moral training of children. it is a philosophic conclusion that it can be used as a means of building up the confidence of children in the authority of their parents and educators. the father says to his child: "you must not touch the stove or you will be burned." the child disobeys his command and is burned. "did i not warn you?" says the father. "do you not see that i was right? hereafter believe my words and do not wait to test them in your experience." the comparatively few cases in which the child may without injury be made to experience the consequences of his acts should be utilized to strengthen its belief in the wisdom and goodness of its parents, so that in an infinitely greater number of cases their authority will act upon the mind of the child almost as powerfully as the actual experience of the evil consequences would act. mr. spencer himself admits, as i have said, that there are what he calls extreme cases to which the system he recommends does not apply. in these he falls back upon parental displeasure as the proper penalty. but parental displeasure, according to his view, is an indirect and not a direct penalty, and to use his own words, "the error which we have been combating is that of substituting parental displeasure for the penalties which nature has established." yet he himself in regard to the graver offenses does substitute parental displeasure, and thus abandons his own position. there is, moreover, a second ground on which i would rest my criticism. the art of the educator sometimes consists in _deliberately warding off_ the natural penalties, though the child knows what they are and perhaps expects to pay them. so far is the method of spencer from bearing the test of application that the very opposite of what he recommends is right in some of the most important instances. take the case of lying, for instance. the natural penalty for telling a falsehood is not to be believed the next time, but the real secret of moral redemption consists in not inflicting this penalty. we emphasize our belief in the offender despite the fact that he has told a falsehood, we show that we expect him never to tell a falsehood again, we seek to drive the spirit of untruthfulness out of him--by believing in him we strengthen him to overcome temptation. and so in many other instances we rescue, we redeem, by not inflicting the natural penalty. the task of moral education is laid upon us. it is not a task that can be learned by reading a few scattered essays; it is often a heavy burden and involves a constant responsibility. i know it is not right _always_ to make parents responsible for the faults which appear in their children. i am well aware that the worst fruit sometimes comes from the best stock, and that black sheep are sometimes to be found in the best families. but i cannot help thinking that if these black sheep were taken charge of in the right way in early childhood, the results might turn out differently from what they often do. the picture of jesus on which the early church loved to dwell is the picture of the good shepherd who follows after the lamb that has strayed from the fold, and, carrying it tenderly in his arms, brings it back. i think if parents were more faithful shepherds, and cared for their wayward children with deeper solicitude and tenderness, they might often succeed in winning them back. but even apart from these exceptional cases the task of training children morally is one of immense gravity and difficulty. and how are most parents prepared for the discharge of this task? why, they are not at all prepared. they rely merely upon impulse, and upon traditions which often are altogether wrong and harmful. they do as they have seen other fathers and mothers do, and thus the same mistakes are perpetuated from generation to generation. such parents, if they were asked to repair a clock, would say, "no, we must first learn about the mechanism of a clock before we undertake to repair it." but the delicate and complex mechanism of a child's soul they undertake to repair without any adequate knowledge of the springs by which it is moved, or of the system of adjustments by which it is enabled to perform its highest work. they thrust their crude hands into the mechanism and often damage or break it altogether. i do not pretend for a moment that education is as yet a perfect science; i know it is not. i do not pretend that it can give us a great deal of light; but such light as it can give we ought to be all the more anxious to obtain on account of the prevailing darkness. the time will doubtless come when the science of education will be acknowledged to be, in some sense, the greatest of all the sciences; when, among the benefactors of the race, the great statesmen, the great inventors, and even the great reformers will not be ranked as high as the great educators. footnote: [ ] it is an open question whether light corporal punishment should not occasionally be permitted in the case of very young children who have not yet arrived at the age of reason. in this case, at all events, there is no danger that the permission will be abused. no one would think of seriously hurting a very young child. iii in order that a parent shall properly influence a child's character, it is necessary for him to know what that character is, and what the nature is of each fault with which he is dealing. i feel almost like asking pardon for saying anything so self-evident. it seems like saying that a physician who is called to a sick-bed, before beginning to prescribe, should know the nature of the disease for which he is prescribing, should not prescribe for one disease when he is dealing with another. i do not know enough about physicians to say whether such mistakes ever happen among them; but that such egregious mistakes do occur among parents all the time, i am sure. there are many parents who never stop to ask before they punish--that is, before they prescribe their moral remedies--what the nature of the disease is with which their child is afflicted. they never take the trouble to make a diagnosis of the case in order to treat it correctly. there is perhaps not one parent in a thousand who has a clear idea of the character of his child, or to whom it even so much as occurs that he ought to have a clear conception of that character, a map of it, a chart of it, laid out, as it were, in his mind. the trouble is that attention is not usually called to this important matter, and i purpose to make it the special subject of this address. . obstinacy i am prepared at the outset for the objection that the case against parents has been overstated. there are parents who freely acknowledge, "my child is obstinate; i know it has an obstinate character." others say, "my child, alas! is untruthful." others again declare, "my child is indolent." but these symptoms are far too indeterminate to base upon them a correct reformatory treatment. such symptoms may be due to a variety of causes, and not until we have discovered the underlying cause in any given case can we be sure that we are following the right method. take the case, for instance, of obstinacy; a child is told to do a certain thing and it refuses. now, here is a dilemma. how shall we act? there are those who say: in such cases a child must be chastised until it does what it is told. a gentleman who was present here last sunday had the kindness to send me during the week an edition of john wesley's sermons, and in this volume, in the sermon on "obedience to parents," i read the following words: "break the will if you would not damn the child. i conjure you not to neglect, not to delay this! therefore ( ) let a child from a year old be taught to fear the rod and to cry softly. in order to do this ( ) let him have nothing he cries for, absolutely nothing, great or small, else you undo your own work. at all events, from that age make him do as he is bid, if you whip him ten times running to effect it. let none persuade you it is cruelty to do this: it is cruelty not to do it. break his will now, and his soul will live, and he will probably bless you to all eternity." but by following this line of treatment we may obtain a result the very opposite of that which we intended. obstinacy in many cases is due to sensitiveness. there are some children as sensitive to impressions as is that well-known flower which closes its quivering leaves at the slightest touch. these sensitive children retreat into themselves at the first sign of unfriendliness or aggression from without. the reason why such a child does not obey its father's command is not, perhaps, because it is unwilling to do as it is told, but because of the stern face, the impatient gesture, the raised voice with which the parent accompanies the command, and which jars upon the child's feelings. if such a parent, incensed at the child's disobedience, becomes still more severe, raises his voice still more, he will only make matters worse. the child will shrink from him still more and continue its passive resistance. in this manner obstinacy, which was at first only a passing spell, may become a fixed trait in the child's character. to be sure, we should not, on the other hand, treat these sensitive children only with caresses. in this way we encourage their sensitiveness, whereas we should regard it as a weakness that requires to be gradually but steadily overcome. the middle way seems the best. let the parent exact obedience from the child by gentle firmness, by a firmness in which there shall be no trace of passion, no heightened feeling, and with a gentleness which, gentle as it may be, shall be at the same time unyielding. but while obstinacy is sometimes due to softness of nature, it is at other times due to the opposite--to hardness of nature, and according to the case we should vary our treatment. there are persons who, having once made up their minds to do a thing, cannot be moved from their resolution by any amount of persuasion. these hard natures, these concentrated wills, are bound to have their way, no matter whom they injure, no matter what stands in the way. such persons--and we notice the beginnings of this trait in children--need to be taught to respect the rights of others. their wills should occasionally be allowed to collide with the wills of others, in order that they may discover that there are other wills limiting theirs, and may learn the necessary lesson of submission. in yet other cases obstinacy is due to stupidity. persons of weak intelligence are apt to be suspicious. not understanding the motives of others, they distrust them; unwilling to follow the guidance of others, they cling with a sort of desperation to their own purpose. these cases may be treated by removing the cause of suspicion, by patiently explaining one's motives where it is possible to do so, by awakening confidence. . untruthfulness again, let us take the fault of untruthfulness. one cannot sufficiently commend the watchfulness of those parents who take alarm at the slightest sign of falsehood in a child. a lie should always put us on our guard. the arch fiend is justly called "the father of lies." the habit of falsehood, when it has become settled, is the sure inlet to worse vices. at the same time not all falsehoods are equally culpable or equally indicative of evil tendency, and we should have a care to discriminate between the different causes of falsehood in the young child, in order that we may pursue the proper treatment. sometimes falsehood is due to redundant imagination, especially in young children who have not yet learned to distinguish between fact and fancy. in such cases we may restrain the child's imagination by directing its attention to the world of fact, by trying to interest it in natural history and the like. we should especially set the example of strict accuracy ourselves in all our statements, no matter how unimportant they may be. for instance, if we narrate certain occurrences in the presence of the child, we should be careful to observe the exact order in which the events occurred, and if we have made a mistake we should take pains to correct ourselves, though the order of occurrence is really immaterial. precisely because it is immaterial we show by this means how much we value accuracy even in little things. then, again, falsehood is often due to the desire for gain. or it may be due to fear. the child is afraid of the severity of the parent's discipline. in that case we are to blame; we must relax our discipline. we have no business to tempt the child into falsehood. again, untruthfulness is often due to mistaken sympathy, as we see in the case of pupils in school, who will tell a falsehood to shield a fellow pupil. in the worst cases falsehood is inspired by malice. it may be said that the proper positive treatment for this fault is to set the example of the strictest truthfulness ourselves, to avoid the little falsehoods which we sometimes allow ourselves without compunction, to show our disgust at a lie, to fill the child with a sense of the baseness of lying, and above all to find out the direct cause which has tempted the child in any given case. as a rule, falsehood is only a means to an end; children do not tell untruths because they like to tell them, but because they have some ulterior end in view. find out what that ulterior end is, and instead of directing your attention only to the lie, penetrate to the motive that has led the child into falsehood, and try to divert it from the bad end. thus you may extract the cause of its wrongdoing. . laziness thirdly, let us consider the fault of laziness. laziness is sometimes due to physical causes. nothing may be necessary but a change of diet, exercise in the fresh air, etc., to cure the evil. sometimes it is the sign of a certain slow growth of the mind. there are fruits in the garden of the gods that ripen slowly, and these fruits are often not the least precious or the least beautiful when they finally have matured. sir isaac newton's mind was one of these slowly ripening fruits. in school he was regarded as a dullard and his teachers had small hopes of him. laziness, like other faults of character, sometimes disappears in the process of growth. just as at a certain period in the life of a youth or maiden new faculties seem to develop, new passions arise, a new life begins to stir in the heart, so at a certain period qualities with which we had long been familiar, disappear of themselves. we have very little light upon this subject, but the fact that a great transformation of character sometimes does take place in children without any perceptible cause is quite certain, and it may be offered as a comforting reflection to those parents who are over-anxious on account of the faults they detect in their children. but again, on the other hand, laziness or untruthfulness or obstinacy may be a black streak, coming to the surface out of the nethermost strata of moral depravity, and, taken in connection with other traits, may justify the most serious apprehension, and should then be a signal for immediate measures of the most stringent sort. . discovering causes i am thus led to the second branch of my subject. i have tried to meet the objection of the parent who says, "i know the character of my child; i know my child is obstinate," by replying, "if you only know that your child is obstinate you know very little; you need to know what are the causes of his obstinacy, and vary your treatment accordingly." or if any one says, "my child is untruthful," i reply, "you need to find out what the cause is of this untruthfulness and vary your treatment accordingly." or again, in the case which we have just considered, i have pointed out that laziness in a child may have no serious meaning whatever or may give just cause for the most serious alarm, according to the group of characteristic traits of which it is one. on this point i wish to lay stress. if you desire to obtain a correct impression of a human face, you do not look at the eye by itself, then at the nose, then fix your attention on the cheeks and the chin and the brow, but you regard all these features together and view them in their relations to one another. or let us recur to the simile of the physician. what would you think of the doctor who should judge the nature of a disease by some one symptom which happened to obtrude itself, or should treat each symptom as it appears separately, without endeavoring to reach the occult cause which has given rise to the symptoms, of which they are all but the outward manifestation? and yet that is precisely the incredible mistake which every one of us, i venture to say, is apt to make in the treatment of children's characters. we judge of them by some one trait, as obstinacy, which happens to obtrude itself on our attention, and we prescribe for each symptom as it arises; we treat obstinacy by itself, and untruthfulness and indolence separately, without endeavoring to get at the underlying cause of all these symptoms. the point i desire to make is that in the education of our children it is necessary not only to study individual traits, but _each trait in connection with the group to which it belongs_. take for an illustration the case last mentioned--that of laziness. there is a well-known type group or group of characteristic traits, of which laziness is one. the chief components of this group are the following: the sense of shame is wanting, that is one trait. the will is under the control of random impulses, good impulses mingle helter-skelter with bad. there is an indisposition on the part of such a child to prolonged exertion in any direction, even in the direction of pleasure. that is perhaps the most dangerous trait of all. if you try to deal, as people actually do, with each of these traits separately, you will fail. if you try to influence the sense of shame, you will meet with no response; if you disgrace such a child, you will make it worse; if you whip it, you will harden it. if you attempt to overcome indolence by the promise of rewards, that will be useless. the child forgets promised rewards just as quickly as it forgets threatened punishment. this forgetfulness, this lack of coherency in its ideas, is particularly characteristic. the ideas of such a child are imperfectly connected. the ties between causes and their effects are feeble. the contents of the child's mind are in a state of unstable equilibrium. there is no point of fixity in its mental realm. and the cure for such a condition is to establish fixity in the thoughts, to induce habits of industry and application by steady, unrelaxing discipline, and especially by means of manual training. the immense value of mechanical labor as a means of moral improvement has been appreciated until now only to a very imperfect extent. mechanical labor wisely directed secures mental fixity because it concentrates the child's attention for days and often for weeks upon a single task. mechanical labor stimulates moral pride by enabling the pupil to produce articles of value and giving him in this way the sense of achievement. mechanical labor also overcomes indolence by compelling settled habits of industry, whereby the random impulses of the will are brought under control. the type group which we have just considered is one of the most clearly marked and easily recognized. it is a type which we often meet with among the so-called criminal classes, where its characteristic features can be seen in exaggerated proportions. without attempting to analyze any additional types (a task of great delicacy and difficulty), the truth that the underlying fault of character is often unlike the symptoms which appear most conspicuously on the surface may be further illustrated by the following example. i have known of a person who made himself obnoxious to his friends by his overbearing manners and apparent arrogance. casual observers condemned him on account of what they believed to be his overweening self-confidence, and expressed the opinion that his self-conceit ought to be broken down. but the real trouble with him was not that he was too self-confident, but that he had not self-confidence enough. his self-confidence needed to be built up. he was overbearing in society because he did not trust himself, because he was always afraid of not being able to hold his own, and hence he exaggerated on the other side. those who take such a person to be in reality what he seems to be will never be able to influence him. if we find such a trait in a child, and simply treat it as if it were arrogant, we shall miss the mark entirely. we must find the underlying principle of the character the occult cause of which the surface symptoms are the effects. our knowledge of the great type groups is as yet extremely meager. psychology has yet to do its work in this direction, and books on education give us but little help. but there are certain means by which the task of investigation may possibly be assisted. one means is the study of the plays of shakespeare. that master mind has created certain types of character which repay the closest analysis. the study of the best biographies is a second means. the study of the moral characteristics of the primitive races--a study which has been begun by herbert spencer in his work on descriptive sociology, and by waitz in his anthropologie der naturvölker--is perhaps another means; and honest introspection, when it shall have become the rule among intelligent persons, instead of being the exception, will probably be the best means. i am afraid that some of my hearers, from having been over-confident as educators in the beginning, may now have become over-timid; from having said to themselves, "why, of course we know the characteristics of our children," may now, since the difficulties of studying character have been explained, be disposed to exclaim in a kind of despair, "who can ever understand the character of a single human being?" a perfect understanding of any human being is indeed impossible. we do not perfectly know even those who are nearest and dearest to us. but there are means of reaching at least approximate results, so far as children are concerned, and a few of these permit me to briefly summarize. try to win the confidence of the child so that it may disclose its inner life to you. children accept the benefactions of their parents as unthinkingly as they breathe the air around them. show them that your care and untiring devotion must be deserved, not taken as a matter of course. in this way you will deepen their attachment and lead them to willingly open their hearts to you. at the same time enter into the lesser concerns of their life. be their comrades, their counselors; stoop to them, let them cling to you. observe your children when they are at play, for it is then that they throw off their reserve and show themselves as they are. some children, for instance, will not join a game unless they can be leaders; is not that a sign of character? some children will take an unfair advantage at play, and justify themselves by saying, "it is only in play." some are persistent in a game while others tire of any game after a little while. others are sticklers for a strict observance of the rules. observe how your sons or daughters are regarded by their companions; children are often wonderfully quick to detect one another's faults. try to find out what the favorite pursuits and studies of your child are, by what it is repelled, by what attracted, and to what it is indifferent. above all, keep a record of your child's development. do not shun the labor involved in this. you know very well that nothing worth having can be obtained without labor, yet most parents are unwilling to give sufficient time and attention to the education of their children. keep a record of the most significant words and acts of the child. thus after a while you may have a picture of the child's inward condition before you, an assemblage of characteristic traits, and by comparing one trait with another, you may find the clue to a deeper understanding of its nature. what i have said about children applies equally to ourselves. i started out by saying that not one parent in a thousand knows his child's character. i conclude by saying that not one man or woman in a thousand knows his or her own character. we go through life cherishing an unreal conception of ourselves which is often inspired by vanity. i am well aware that it is difficult to know oneself, but there are helps in this direction also. we can look over our own past record, we can honestly examine how we have acted in the leading crises of our lives, we can summon our own characteristic traits before our minds--the things that we like to dwell upon, and the things which we would gladly blot out of our memories if we could--and by comparing this trait with that, we may discover the springs by which we have been moved. it is difficult to attain self-knowledge, but it is imperative that we should try to attain it. the aim of our existence is to improve our characters, and clearly we cannot improve them unless we know them. i have undertaken to grapple with a most difficult subject, but i shall have accomplished the purpose which i had in mind if i have awakened in you a deeper desire to ask yourselves, first, "what is the character of my child?" and, second, "what is my own character?" the most serious business of our lives is to try to find the answers to these two questions. the american home series norman b. richardson, editor . the nation's challenge to the home . how one real mother lives with her children . parenthood and heredity . the roots of disposition and character . the first year in a baby's life . thumb-sucking . the education of the baby until it is one year old . first steps towards character . the second and third years . the education of the child during the second and third years . the mother as playfellow (years one, two, and three) . the problems of temper . the problems of fighting . the government of young children . the punishment of children . the home kindergarten . the religious nurture of a little child (years four and five) . the nervous child . on truth telling and the problem of children's lies . the government of children between six and twelve . the dramatic instinct in children . dramatics in the home . table talk in the home . sunday in the home . a year of good sundays . the picture-hour in the home . story-telling in the home . music in the home . training in thrift . "what to say" in telling the story of life's renewal . sex discipline for boys in the home . youth's outlook upon life . building for womanhood . rhythm and recreation . the home and moving pictures. . worship in the home. . the use of dolls in child-training. prices will be furnished on application