CHAPTER XVI.
THE LONDON VOLUNTEERS
In spite of Lord Palmerston’s injudicious attempt to check the rifle movement in its infancy, there can be no doubt now but that it is a complete success. The appeal to the martial spirit – more or less strong in the hearts of all Englishmen – has been most cheerfully responded to. Something of the kind was evidently required to excite the energies and to occupy the leisure hours of our numerous youth. We are always in danger of becoming too peaceable a folk. Our avocations, all of a mercantile or professional character, – our amusements, less out-door, and more sedentary, than ought to be the case, – the very humane spirit which pervades all English society, – our enormous wealth; all tend to make us peaceably disposed. None can be alarmed at our warlike demonstrations. No nation in Europe need fear a British invasion. No foreign government can possibly pretend that the British government harbours designs of active hostility against any European power. Indeed, the naturally and necessarily peaceful intentions of this country are candidly acknowledged by the most eminent men in France itself. Michel Chevalier, in his account of a recent visit to this country, has done ample justice to our moderation, and to our desire to be at peace with all the world.
We may, then, view the increase of our volunteer riflemen without any alarm – nay, rather with a considerable amount of pleasure. People connected with fast life, tell us that the falling off of the attendance of young men at the casinos is something very remarkable; the reason of this is attributed to the fact that they are engaged and interested in their drill. It is with unmixed satisfaction, that we see, day by day, the long columns of the Times filled with the names of the towns which have just joined the movement, and the proceedings of those which already possess a corps of riflemen. The Times tells us, that already the force thus raised consists of 170,000, of whom half nearly are Londoners; but the movement, we trust, will continue to be developed for some time to come. Every young man should join it, as it gives him healthy recreation, soldier-like habits, and a feeling that he is a son of our common mother – fine Old England, the land of the brave and the free. We are much in the habit of doing our work by proxy. Shareholders, in companies, leave the management to a few directors, and learn, too late, to curse their folly. Institutions of the most excellent character, in the hands of a few become perverted, and are often real stumbling-blocks in the way of reform. So it is with our army and navy. We pay for them handsomely, we intrust their management to a few, and then we wake up to find that we have been trusting on a broken reed; that our guns, and muskets, are old-fashioned; that routine and favouritism in office are more than a match for the cleverest of officers and the bravest of men; and that we have almost all our work to begin over again. Now, one great advantage of the rifle movement is that it throws us back upon ourselves – that it teaches us all to feel that we have a personal stake in the defence of the country – that it recalls the martial energy which we are fast in danger of losing, and makes all panic-fear for the future impossible. Surely, also, the moral effect of all this on Europe must be great. The nation that arms itself is always respected. It is the French army that makes the name of the French Emperor so famous in all parts of the world. Again, the nation that is always protected is safe from attack. People do not go to war with strong states, but weak ones. In the fable, the wolf quarrels not with the wolf, but the lamb. It ought not to be so, we freely admit; but we must take the world as we find it, and act accordingly. And the morale of all history is that there is no such safeguard of peace as the knowledge that a nation has set its house in order, and is thoroughly prepared for war.
Look back at the olden time, when we triumphed at Agincourt, Cressy, and Poictiers – when we won for England her foremost place among the nations of earth. A writer in the Cambridge Chronicle has collected all that he can find relative to “The Longbow of the past, the Rifle of the future,” and done good service by its republication under the title already given.
There is a muster-roll of the army of Henry V. preserved among Rymer’s unprinted collection in the British Museum. The Earl of Cambridge appears in it with a personal retinue of 2 knights, 57 esquires, and 100 horse archers. The Duke of Clarence brought in his retinue 1 earl, 2 bannerets, 14 knights, 222 esquires, and 720 horse archers. The roll includes 2,536 men-at-arms, 4,128 horse archers, 38 arblesters (cross-bowmen), 120 miners, 25 master gunners, 50 servitor gunners, a stuffer of bacinets, 12 armourers, 3 kings of arms. A Mr. Nicholas Colnet, a physician, also brought 3 archers, 20 surgeons, an immense retinue of labourers, artisans, fletchers, bowyers, wheelwrights, chaplains, and minstrels. Foot-archers were not enumerated, but the total number of effective soldiers amounted to 10,731. These were the men who gained the field at Agincourt. Philip de Comines acknowledged that English archery excelled that of every other nation, and Sir John Fortesque states “that the might of the Realme of England standyth upon archers.” In the reign of Henry II. the English conquests in Ireland were principally owing, it is recorded, to the use of the long bow. The victory gained over the Scots, by Edward I., in 1298, at the great battle of Falkirk, was chiefly won by the power of the English bowmen. In 1333 Edward III., with small loss, gained a signal victory at Halidown Hill, near Berwick, when attacked by the Scots under the Earl of Douglas. Speed gives, from Walsingham, the following description of the battle: – “The chief feat was wrought by the English archers, who first with their stiff, close, and cruel storms of arrows made their enemies’ footmen break; and when the noble Douglas descended to the charge with his choicest bands, himself being in a most rich and excellently tempered armour, and the rest singularly well-appointed, – the Lord Percy’s archers making a retreat did withal deliver their deadly arrows so lively, so courageously, so grievously, that they ran through the men-at-arms, bored the helmets, beat their lances to the earth, and easily shot those who were more slightly armed through and through.” Gibbon notes the singular dread with which the English archers filled their enemies in the crusades, and states, “that at one time Richard, with seventeen knights and 300 archers, sustained the charge of the whole Turkish and Saracen army.” In the reign of Richard II., in 1377, the Isle of Wight was invaded by the French, who landed in great force at Franche-Ville (called afterwards Newtown), which they destroyed, and then directed their march to Carisbrooke Castle, for the purpose of taking that stronghold. The news of the invasion soon spread throughout the island, and no time was lost in mustering the forces which it possessed. These forces consisted chiefly of archers, who so admirably posted themselves in ambush, that they rendered a good account of the advanced division of the French. The other division of the enemy had commenced an attack on Carisbrooke Castle, when the victorious archers advanced to its relief, and soon cleared the island of the intruders. The battle of Shrewsbury, in 1403, was one of the most desperate encounters ever seen in England. The archers on both sides did terrible execution. Henry IV. and the Prince of Wales on one side, and Earl Douglas with Henry Hotspur, son of the Earl of Northumberland, on the other, performed prodigies of valour. At length, Hotspur being slain and Douglas taken, Henry remained master of the field.
The bow was the most ancient and universal of all weapons. Our ancestors in this island, at a very early period of their history, used the bow, like other nations, for two purposes. In time of peace it was an implement for hunting and pastime; and in time of war it was a formidable weapon of offence and defence. It was not till after the battle of Hastings that our Anglo-Saxon forefathers learned rightly to appreciate the merit of the bow and the cloth-yard shaft. Though a general disarming followed that event, the victor allowed the vanquished Saxon to carry the bow. The lesson taught by the superiority of the Norman archers was not forgotten. From that period the English archers began to rise in repute, and in course of time proved themselves, by their achievements in war, both the admiration and terror of their foes, and excelled the exploits of other nations. The great achievements of the English bowmen, which shed lustre upon the annals of the nation, extended over a period of more than five centuries, many years after the invention and use of firearms. All the youth and manhood of the yeomanry of England were engaged in the practice of the long bow. England, therefore, in those times possessed a national voluntary militia, of no charge to the government, ready for the field on a short notice, and well skilled in the use of weapons. Hence sprung the large bodies of efficient troops which at different periods of English history, in an incredibly short time, were found ready for the service of their country. These men were not a rude, undisciplined rabble, but were trained, disciplined men, every one sufficiently master of his weapon to riddle a steel corslet at five or six score paces; or, in a body, to act with terrific effect against masses of cavalry; while most of them could bring down a falcon on the wing by a bird-bolt, or, with a broad arrow, transfix the wild deer in the chase. There is little at the present day in England to afford any adequate idea of the high importance, the great skill, and the distinguished renown of the English archers. Some few places still retain names which tell us where the bowmen used to assemble for practice, – as Shooter’s Hill, in Kent; Newington Butts, near London; and St. Augustine’s Butts, near Bristol. Many of the noble and county families of Great Britain and Ireland have the symbols of archery charged on their escutcheons; as, for instance, the Duke of Norfolk, on his bend, between six crosslets, bears an escutcheon charged with a demi-lion pierced in the mouth with an arrow, within a double tressure flory and counterflory. This was an addition to the coat of his Grace’s ancestor, the Earl of Surrey, who commanded at Flodden Field, in 1513. There are also existing families which have derived their surnames from the names of the different crafts formerly engaged in the manufacture of the bow and its accompaniments; as, for instance, the names of Bowyer, Fletcher, Stringer, Arrowsmith, &c. If we refer to our language, there will be found many phrases and proverbial expressions drawn from or connected with archery; some suggesting forethought and caution, as “Always have two strings to your bow;” it being the custom of military archers to take additional bowstrings with them into the field of battle; “Get the shaft-hand of your adversaries;” “Draw not thy bow before thy arrow be fixed;” “Kill two birds with one shaft.” To make an enemy’s machinations recoil upon himself, they expressed by saying, “To outshoot a man in his own bow.” In reference to a vague, foolish guess, they used to say, “He shoots wide of his mark;” and of unprofitable, silly conversation, “A fool’s bolt is soon shot.” The unready and the unskilful archer did not escape the censure and warning of his fellows, although he might be a great man, and boast that he had “A famous bow – but it was up at the castle.” Of such they satirically remarked that “Many talked of Robin Hood, who never shot in his bow.” Our ancestors also expressed liberality of sentiment, and their opinion that merit belonged exclusively to no particular class or locality, by the following pithy expressions, “Many a good bow besides one in Chester;” and “An archer is known by his aim, and not by his arrows.”
And what was the result of all this practice with the bow? – why, that we never feared invasion. Those were not times when old ladies were frightened out of their night’s sleep. Every Englishman was a free and fearless soldier; the foe might growl at a distance, but he never dared to touch our shores – to plunder our cities – to massacre our smiling babes – and to do outrage worse than death to our English womanhood; and so it will be seen now that the bow has been superseded by the rifle, when our young lads of public spirit respond to Tennyson’s patriotic appeal, “Form, Riflemen, form!”
CHAPTER XVII.
CRIMINAL LONDON
A brochure of fifty pages, full of figures and tables, just issued, contains the criminal statistics of the metropolis, as shown by the police returns. It is not very pleasant reading, in any sense, but it no doubt has its value. We learn from it that last year the police took into custody 64,281 persons, of whom 29,863 were discharged by the magistrates, 31,565 summarily disposed of, and 2,853 committed for trial; of the latter number 2,312 were convicted, the rest being either acquitted or not prosecuted, or in their cases true bills were not found. About twenty years ago, in 1839, the number taken into custody rather exceeded that of last year, being 65,965; although since that period 135 parishes, hamlets, and liberties, with, in 1850, a population of 267,267, have been added to the metropolitan district, and although the entire population must have greatly increased in the interval. These returns exhibits strange variations in the activity of the police; while last year the apprehensions were, as stated, 64,281, in 1857 they amounted to as much as 79,364. The difference is 15,000, and of that number in excess, not one-half were convicted, either summarily or after trial, the rest forming an excess in the whole of those discharged by the magistrates. It is a striking fact that nearly half the number of all whom the police take into custody are discharged, so that the discrimination of the police is far from being on a par with its activity.
Criminal London spends some considerable part of its time at Newgate, Clerkenwell, Wandsworth, Hollowway, and other establishments well-known to fame, and descriptions of which are familiar to the reader, but a favourite resort, also, is Portland Goal, which, by the kindness of Captain Clay, we were permitted, recently, to inspect. Portland Goal is situated on a neck of land near Weymouth.
To reach it, the better way is to take a passage in one of the numerous steamers which ply between Weymouth and Portland. In half an hour you will find yourself at the bottom of the chalk hill on which the prison is built. If you are sound in limb, and not deficient in wind, in another half hour you will find yourself at the principal entrance of the goal. But to get at the Prison is no easy work. The Captain of the steamer will tell you, you must take a trap the moment you get on shore, but Jehu will ask you so long a price as to put all idea of riding quite out of the question. The people on the island will give you but little information, and that of rather a contradictory character. Undoubtedly the better plan is to trust to your own sense and legs. On our way we met an officer of the Royal Navy – a captain, we imagine. Before us, at a little distance, was what we took to be the prison, but we were not sure of the fact, and accordingly asked the gallant officer. We trust he was not a type of the service. He did not know what that building was before him: he did not know whether there was a prison there; and then he finished by asking us if we were one of the officials. If the French do come, let us hope Her Majesty’s fleet will have more acute officers than our gallant acquaintance! We arrived at the principal entrance, notwithstanding the non-success of our queries with the brave marine, at a quarter to one. Before we enter, let us look around. What a place for a man to get braced up in! What a jolly thing it would be for many a London Alderman could he come here for a few months. Just below is the prison, clean, snug, and warm. At our feet is the stupendous Breakwater, within which lie, as we trust they may ever lie, idle and secure, some of the ships comprising the Channel Fleet. Here, stealing into the bay like a bird with white wings, is a convict ship, coming to bear away to the Bermudas some of the convicts now shut up within those stone walls. If you look well at her through the glass you can see her live freight on board, for she only calls here for some fifty or sixty, – who, however, have no wish to leave Portland for harder work and a less healthy climate. Beyond is Weymouth, and its comfortable hotels – its agreeable promenade – and with, in summer time, its pleasant bathing. Right across St. Albyn’s Head, and on the other side the Dorset coast, and straight across some eighty miles of the salt sea, is Cherbourg, with a breakwater far more formidable than that above which we stand. It is a clear bright sky above us, and in the light of the sun the scene is beautiful almost as one of fairy land.
We ring the bell – hand in, through a window, our letter of introduction – are ushered into a wooden cage in which the janitor sits – enter our name in a book, and sit down. The officers, consisting of about 160 men, exclusive of a small guard of soldiers, are coming in from dinner. In appearance they somewhat resemble our Coast-guard, are tall fine men, with very red faces, and big black bushy whiskers. The principal warden came to receive us; he has been here ever since the place has been opened, and we could not have had a better guide, or one more competent to explain to us the nature of the important works carried on. And now we have passed into the very prison itself, and stand surrounded by men who have committed almost every species of crime. There are some fifteen hundred of them here from all parts of England; stupid peasants from Suffolk and Norfolk, and clever rascals (these latter are very troublesome) from London, and Birmingham, and Liverpool, and other busy centres of industry, and intelligence, and life. Says our informant, We have a good many captains in the army here, and several merchants, nor are we surprised at the information.
When we entered, the men had just dined, and were collected in the yard previous to being examined and walked off in gangs, under the charge of their respective officers, to work. The gangs consisted of various numbers, of from fifteen to thirty; each officer felt each man, to see that nothing was hidden, and examined his number to see that it was all right, and as each gang marches through the gate, the officer calls out the number of the gang, and the number of men it contains, to the chief officer, who enters it in his book. As soon as this operation was over, the gangs marched out, some to quarry stones for the Breakwater below; and others, by far the larger number, to construct the enormous barricades and fortifications which the Government has ordered as a defence for that part of the world. The prisoners who cannot stand this hard work are employed in mending clothes, in making shoes, in baking, and brewing, in the school-room, and other offices necessary in such an enormous establishment. In this latter employment no less a personage than Sir John Dean Paul had been occupied till very recently. The scene was a busy one; all around us were convicts – here quarrying, there employed in the manufacture of tools, or in carpenters’s or masons’s work – all working well, and many of them cheerful in spite of the presence of an official, and little apparently heeding the sentry standing near with loaded gun ready to shoot, if need be, a runaway. We have heard gentlemen say that at Bermuda and at Gibraltar, the convicts will not work. All we can say is, that at Portland they do, and so effectually, as to cost the country but little more than four or five pounds a year. Our out door inspection over, we then went over the sleeping apartments, and the chapel, and the kitchen, and laundry, and bakery. The impression left on us was very favourable. The food is of the plainest, but most satisfactory character. The allowance for breakfast is 12 oz. of bread, 1 pint of tea or cocoa. Dinner, 1 pint of soup, 5½ oz. of meat, 1 lb. of potatoes, 6 oz., of bread or pudding. Supper, 9 oz. of bread, 1 pint of gruel or tea. The chapel is a handsome building, capable of containing fifteen hundred people, and the sleeping apartments were light and airy, and well ventilated. Each cell opens into a corridor, there being a series of three or four storeys; each sleeping apartment can contain from a hundred to five hundred men; in each cell there is a hammock, and all that is requisite for personal cleanliness, besides a book or two which the convict is allowed to have from the library. Of course the manner of life is somewhat monotonous. Before coming to Portland, the prisoners have passed their allotted time, (generally about nine months), in what is termed separate confinement, at Pentonville, Millbank, Preston, Bedford, Wakefield, or some other prison adapted for the first stage of penal discipline. Upon their reception they are made to undergo medical inspection, a change of clothes, and are required to bathe; they are then informed of the rules and regulations of the prison, and moved to school for examination in educational attainments, with a view to their correct classification. Afterwards they receive an appropriate address from the chaplain, and are allowed to write their first letter from Portland to their relations. They are then put to work, and are made to feel that their future career depends in some measure on themselves. Thus there are four classes, and the convict in the best class may earn as much as two shillings-a-week, which is put to his credit, and paid him when he becomes free, partly by a post-office order, payable to him when he reaches his destination, and partly afterwards. The dress consists of fustian, over which a blue smock frock with white stripes is thrown. Convicts who are dangerous, and have maltreated their keepers, instead of a frock have a coat of a somewhat loud and striking character. Then, again, a yellow dress denotes that the convict has attempted to escape; and further, a blue cloth dress denotes that the wearer, engaged as a pointsman, has but little more time to stay, and has a little more freedom intrusted to him. In the working days in summer the prison-bell rouses all hands at a quarter-past five, allowing an hour for washing, dressing, and breakfast. Then comes morning service in the chapel. They are then marched off to labour, where they remain till eleven, when they return to dinner. At half-past twelve they are again paraded, and dismissed to labour till six. Suppers are distributed to each cell at half-past six, and at seven evening service is held in the chapel. The prisoners then return to their cells. In winter-time they are recalled from labour at half-past four, prayers are read at five, and supper is served at six; the prisoners then return to their cells. At eight all lights must be put out, and silence reigns in every hall, the slippered night-guards alone gliding through the long and dimly-lighted galleries like so many spectres. It may be that sorrow is wakeful, but it is not so at Portland. If the men have troubled consciences and uneasy hours, it is when they are at work, and not during the period allotted to repose. They are asleep as soon as ever the lights are put out, and till the bell summons them to labour they sleep the sleep of the just. Nor can we wonder at it. There is no sleep so sweet and precious, as that earned by a long day’s work in the open air.
Attendance at chapel and walking exercise in the open air, are the two great features of the Sunday’s employment; and, as a farther change, we may mention, each prisoner is allowed half a day’s schooling per week. While at work, of course they talk together, – it is impossible to prevent that, – and they choose their companions, and have their friendships as if they were free; and even, as in the case of Sir John Dean Paul, maintain – or endeavour to do so – the social distinctions which were accorded to them when supposed to be respectable members of respectable society. Altogether here, as at many a worse place than Portland, the convicts must work hard, for the contractor depends on them for the supply of stone which is sent down the tramway to the Breakwater; but many of the men at Portland have been accustomed to hard labour all their lives. They are chiefly young and able-bodied, and here they are well cared for and taught. Surely here, if anywhere, the convict may repent his crimes, and be fitted to return to society a wiser and a better man! We cannot exactly say what are the effects of all this; but surely the convicts must be better from this separation from their usual haunts and associates. Portland Prison is admirably adapted for carrying out a great experiment in the treatment and improvement of the criminal classes. It has now been in existence twelve years, and the experiment hitherto has succeeded. At any rate, if it is a blunder, it is not a costly one, like some establishments nearer town.
It is now nearly ten years since transportation to the colonies ceased to be a punishment for criminal offences. The Tasmanian and Australian authorities refused to receive them; and the government establishment at Norfolk Island was abandoned, the home government resolving to make an effort to dispose of the convict population in some other manner. The convict establishment on the Island of Portland was the first scheme proposed for the employment and reformation of offenders. The principal object was to secure a place of confinement for long-term convicts; the next, to systematically apply the labour of such convicts to “national works of importance,” the prosecution of which at once was profitable, and afforded the means of training the convicts to habits of industry. The Penal Servitude Act was passed in 1850, and under it the much-condemned ticket of leave came into operation. It substituted sentences of penal servitude for all crimes formerly visited by sentences of transportation to a less period than 14 years. As few of such sentences, comparatively, reached over that period, the Act practically reduced the transportation sentences to a mere tithe of what they were before – the average during the years from 1854 to 1857 not being more than 235 out of 3200. In 1857 the transportation sentences only amounted to 110, while the penal servitude sentences were 2474. In that year an Act was passed with a small proportionate remission of sentence as a reward for good conduct. The advantages of the system thus established, were considered to be – 1st, Its deterring effects. 2nd, Its affording encouragement to the convict. 3rd, As giving the means of dealing with refractory convicts; and 4th, As affording means of employment to offenders on their discharge.
Portland Prison, as the chief punitive establishment under this new system, is, of course, most deserving notice. In 1857, the total expenditure on this prison was £48,782. The total value of the labour performed in the same year was £41,855, which, divided by 1488 (the average number of prisoners), gave £28. 2s. 7d. as the rate per man. We doubt if the labour in our county prisons has ever reached the half of this value. Large numbers of the Portland prisoners have obtained employment at harbour and other similar works since their discharge, and generally their conduct has been satisfactory. The Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society regularly assists the well-behaved convicts in finding employment on their release from confinement, and that society’s operations have been remarkably successful. Pentonville prison has ordinarily from five to six hundred prisoners; while in Milbank the daily average number, in 1857, was about 1100. Parkhurst prison is kept for boy convicts, of whom the average daily number in 1857, was 431; and Brixton, for females, of whom 784 in all were received in that year. The Fulham Refuge is another female institution, in which convicts are received previous to being discharged on license, and in which they are taught a knowledge of household work, such as cooking, washing, &c., calculated to improve their chances of getting employment. Portsmouth, Chatham, Lewes, and Dartmoor are also used as convict establishments; the latter, however, is being gradually given up, as utterly unfitted for such a purpose, its temperature in winter somewhat approaching to that of Nova Zembla. It is difficult to say what are the numbers requiring to be disposed of in these convict prisons in the average of years, but they probably range about 7,000 males and 1,200 females. If the decrease of crime in 1858 continue in subsequent years, our home prisons will amply suffice for the reception of our convict population.