Month: October 2024

by Barrie Jones

Chapter XVII. Henry recounts his experiences of some of the inmates in Parkhurst Prison asylum.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 14^th May 1910, page 12.

Chapter XVII

I was not long in the hospital in Parkhurst Prison, for I was only admitted there for a few days for medical observation. They could have saved a great deal of trouble, as I repeatedly told the doctors there was nothing the matter with my intellect. But they would not have it, and they passed me as weak minded, though there was no harm in acting a bit “barmy.” It was understood thing if a convict says he is not “barmy” that they think he is. If he says he is “barmy” then they put it down as a bit of a swank, or what they call “putting it on.” They treated me kindly, and, of course, I had to work in conjunction with their opinion. I do not think you will think me any the worse for that, so just for the sake of argument I will be “barmy” to the end of my narrative.

I was discharged from the hospital, and taken to a prison known as “C” Hall, and a place set apart especially for convicts suffering from derangement: and, indeed, some sad types of humanity were to be found there. One poor chap I came in contact with, whose name was Parsons, was undergoing a term of 20 years for setting fire to a haystack, and when I first knew him he had already completed over fifteen years. The authorities would not give him his liberty because he was not fit to be at large. This poor fellow was suffering from religious mania, and his actions, though laughable, were extremely sad to behold. He would sometimes enter into a conversation with me, but only on points of religion, and I was greatly astonished at what he knew of the Bible; I do really believe that he knew it all by heart, from the first chapter of Genesis to the end of Revelations. I have known convicts to stop him and put a question to him about the Scripture, and he would answer them quite correctly. I can well remember in 1905 speaking to this poor unfortunate, and while he was in the middle of a chapter in the book of Deuteronomy all of sudden the sun came out from behind a cloud, and he made off at a run, throwing out his arms wildly, and calling the sun his God. I cannot forget this poor chap, and I have often thought that his case might have been one of a far worse description than a religious mania. At any rate, if he was mad, he had the right kind of madness – the knowledge and love of God in his heart.

I will compare this case with another lunatic who was as dangerous as the other was harmless. I will not give his name here, sufficient to say that he was one of the worst specimens of humanity I’d ever seen, and well worth a corner in Madam Tussaud’s Chamber of Horrors. It was on a Sunday in 1905 that we were marching back to our cells, when suddenly this man caught hold of an empty zinc bucket and brought it down with terrible force upon the head of a fellow convict, until the poor fellow was streaming with blood, and had to be taken to the infirmary. On another occasion he used the heel of his boot on another man, and one night he was carrying the can of cocoa at supper time, and threw the whole of its contents in the face of a fellow convict. For each of these offences he was taken to the hospital, and placed in a padded cell, and put into a straight jacket. The very “Nick” himself was this man, and it was never safe to look at him, much less get anywhere near him. Finally, they got him into the new asylum, which was opened at Parkhurst in August, 1906, where by all accounts he had a lively time of it in the India rubber cells. A man who was really insane, I must confess, is treated with every possible attention. I know this for a fact, for I have been employed attending in this asylum myself with the lunatics daily rations, and I knew what food they are given to eat.

It is a great mistake for some to suppose that a convict lunatic asylum is different to that of a public lunatic asylum, for it is precisely the same thing, and the inmates are treated in very much the same way. I have heard of a poor chap who was taken very ill in the small hours of the morning. He eventually got out of bed and rang his bell. Again and again this poor fellow rang for assistance, but there was no response, and afterwards all was quiet. But at seven o’clock when the day officer in charge of the ward was unlocking the cells, one of the convicts who was carrying the slop tub, shouted out in the casual way, “slops,” but there was no answer. Naturally, thinking something was wrong, he called the attention of the assistant warder, who immediately went into the cell, and found him half dressed, and lying across the bed quite dead. The official at once phoned to the infirmary, and the doctor arrived, and ordered the body to be carried to the mortuary.

To be continued……