The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 3

by Barrie Jones

Henry’s first taste of long imprisonment was in November 1895 when together with Thomas Lewis and David Davies, his ‘old schoolmate’, he was tried for ‘feloniously and burglariously entering the dwelling house and pawn shop of Samuel Fine, Troedyrhiw’. The assizes Judge, Justice Lawrence, ruled that there was no evidence of burglary against Henry and David Davies, instead they were tried on the second count of receiving stolen property, knowing it to have been stolen. All three offenders were treated the same and they were each sentenced to three years’ penal servitude.

Penal servitude, which had replaced transportation, consisted of separate confinement in silence and hard labour, and was only given in exceptional circumstances. However, theft of property coupled with recidivism, was likely to impose penal sentences. It is likely that Henry and his two accomplices did not realise the full consequence of their sentences, on hearing the verdict they left the dock laughing.

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

Chapter III

One glass too much very often brings with it one step further, for when once a man has met misfortune, it is not a very easy thing to get on in the world. Once he is stamped with the prison taint, it is all up with him. He may, after the first, second, or third time, try to amend his ways, but there are others who make it their business to inform his employers who he is, what he is, and where he has been. This is done chiefly by the police, and what is the result? Well, it can all be put in a nutshell: The unfortunate man’s employers having learned his history, tells him in a mild sort of way that he requires his services no longer. Thus, he is thrown out of honest employment. Is there any wonder then that the poor wretch falls back again into crime?

I was tried at the Cardiff Assizes in the year 1895, having been accused of taking part in a robbery which I knew nothing at all about, and simply because I was found in possession of a certain article, I was deemed guilty, and sentenced to three years’ penal servitude. Even if I had committed the crime, such did not merit the sentence passed upon me. I acknowledged that I was guilty of receiving, but the law takes it that the receiver is worse than the thief. Again, it is not because of the nature of a crime brought against a man that he receives such a heavy sentence, but simply because he has been previously convicted; thus, a heavy sentence is passed upon him on the strength of his previous convictions. I have in mind the case of a man who stood accused of murder. The crime, no doubt, was of a very bad nature, but even if the man had committed the crime the law was not justified in passing the capital sentence upon him for there was not sufficient time allowed for inquires to be made into the state of his intellect.  After he was hanged it leaked out that the man was insane at the time. Many a man has been hanged and after his execution the right man has given himself up and confessed to having committed the crime.

After being tried, found guilty, and sentenced to penal servitude, I was escorted back to Cardiff Prison in the “Black Maria”, but before proceeding any further, I will endeavour to give readers an idea of what his Majesty’s vehicle is like. It is something similar to a hearse, or more like a gaol on wheels. There are twelve separate cells in the interior, and they are so small that one has to wriggle himself up like a snake in order to get into them. I sometimes think that if this van could speak, it could tell how it had carried many a murderer to hear his last sermon. The cells at the Town Hall are a little larger, but not very well ventilated. There is netting overhead, giving the prisoners a close resemblance to a pack of wild beasts. The lions at the Zoological Gardens are far better accommodated. I was escorted in this cramped position back to Cardiff Prison, where I was hurried below into a place known as the “reception”, where I was waited upon by a warder, who quickly exchanged my navy-blue serge for a brand new suit of khaki. He afterwards proceeded to weigh me, take my measurement, and take my marks. He was not a bad sort of a man, and always ready with few words of kindness to a poor wretch – for, you know, after a man has been so long in prison, it is considered a very dangerous thing to exhibit any little feeling of sympathy towards him for a kind word under those circumstances has killed many a poor prisoner. He then locked me up, and gave me a bit of good advice to sleep upon.

To be continued…..