Eighteen Months' ImprisonmentShaw, Donald, late captain
General
Eighteen Months' Imprisonment
Shaw, Donald, late captain
Prisons -- Great Britain
At 11, and again at night, the surgeons visited the hospital, when every
case was carefully gone into. The care that prisoners receive in this
hospital puts crime almost at a premium, and though I may indirectly be
accusing those eminent and otherwise irreproachable physicians of
unintentionally aiding and abetting law-breaking, veracity compels me to
say what I think. A case I met goes far to prove it. In the hospital
with me was a broken-down old gardener who had seen better days, and was
in receipt of a pension of five shillings a week from a former employer.
This pittance, however conclusive it might be of his comparative honesty,
was wholly inadequate to procure medical comforts for rheumatic gout, to
which he was a martyr. He next appears at a police court for having a
pig in his yard, which he had driven in from the street, and then
informed the police. There can be only one solution of this act, for he
was a man of sixty, beyond absolute want, and had never seen the inside
of a prison before. He had now attained his object, and was undergoing
three months’ imprisonment, during all which time he was in hospital. I
saw him on admission, a cripple, crumpled up and half-starved, and I saw
him every day swaddled in cotton wool, his limbs frequently fomented, and
fed on the daintiest luxuries. This man was one of the few I met who was
grateful for the care bestowed on him, and honest enough to wish he had
had six instead of three months’ imprisonment. I saw him on the day of
his discharge, comparatively cured, and wondered how long it would be
before he again caught the right sow by the ear. A disadvantage that
patients have to suffer from is the architectural construction of the
ward: it unites the two angles of the prison, and necessitates its being
traversed in its entire length by every official going his rounds. On
these occasions great inconsideration is shown, the orange-peel
delinquent of chapel notoriety being peculiarly offensive in the
unnecessary noise he made. I heard him on one occasion complain to the
warder, that a patient, who was almost _in extremis_ at the time, was
“too lazy to look up.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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