h them, say, "circumstances of character
occasion the apparent anomalies;" being unable, or perhaps unwilling, to
give a better. That a good character does not avail the prisoner, or
direct the court in its judgments, may be seen by a mere inspection of
the printed trials, and is better known to all who have watched the
proceedings of this court for any time. Hundreds of cases might be cited
to illustrate this fact. I remember the case of two butchers, whose
briefs I wrote, which occurred last year. One was an old, the other a
young man, both having been in the employ of the prosecutor. They were
charged with stealing a breast of mutton from their master: both were
found guilty. The old man had persons to speak as to his character for
honesty for forty years last past (his former masters); the young one
had not a solitary witness to say a word for him. The former was
sentenced to fourteen years' transportation; the latter to six months in
the house of correction. When the prosecutor heard of the circumstance,
he got up a petition to the secretary of state for a remission of the
sentence, in which he stated that on the trial he himself had given the
old man a good character, and not the other. Instances of this kind
occur out of number to confirm the rogues in their preconceived notions
of the uncertainty of punishment, and that "the greatest crimes come off
the best." This is an aphorism among the thieves. I have seen some of
them, after being sentenced by the court, dance for hours, calling out
continuously, "Did I not tell you all, the biggest rogues get off the
best?" The scene in the several yards of Newgate on the sentence-days,
after the judgments have been passed, defies any description on paper.
Some will be seen jumping and skipping about for hours, frenzied with
joy at the very unexpectedly mild sentence passed on them; others are
cursing and swearing, calling down imprecations on the head of the
recorder, for having, as they say, so unfairly measured out justice; all
agreeing there is no proportion in the punishments to the crimes. It may
be said, it is of little import what these men think, so they are
punished. But is it of no importance under what impression the others
are discharged? If the discharged feel (as assuredly they do) that
punishment is a matter of chance, they return to their habits as the
hazard-player goes again to the dice, in hopes of coming off a winner,
and reimbursing himself for former l