The Prison Letters of James Atkinson
York Castle, 1858
​The third letter, written two months later from York Castle, is Atkinson’s most sombre and guilt-ridden. By now he had time to reflect, and his words carry a sense of resignation. He calls his crime “one of the awfullest” ever committed, speaks of family shame, and contemplates his eternal fate.
Thoughts:
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• This letter shows more direct acknowledgment of guilt than the earlier ones.
• He admits to suicidal thoughts (“put myself away”) but frames his failure to act as weakness.
• The weight of shame on his parents and family is a recurring theme, as though he sees their suffering as punishment.
• While he expresses remorse, it is mixed with self-pity and continued appeals for forgiveness.
• It reads almost like a final testament, preparing himself for judgment and trying to secure a narrative of repentance.
📜 Letter III – November 17, 1858 (York Castle)
To the sister of Mary-Jane Skaife
Dear Friend,
I take the last opportunity to write to you, hoping you well. As you will be in much trouble as I am, to think that I should have placed ourselves in such a awful situation; as you will think that I have been a very wretched one, as I have done one of the awfullest crimes that ever was committed I think. The more I think about it, the worse it is. It is a thousand pities that I did not value our souls eternal welfare before it happened.
You are to blame abought us not getting married, as she always told me all you said about me. I had got it into my head that no one else could make me happy in this world, and we both of us thought so much abought one another before your mother was so much against me. I think it was very wrong of her to do so as long as we had gon together. It was a thousand pitys her falling poorly when she did. If she had not, this would not been the case with us, as we was always very happy before that, and she always told me all you said about me. I think if she had not this would not have made me so unsettled as I was, and she begun to be much quearer with me after Gill came to your uncle’s that night.
It was a thousand pitys, but we had parted; but it seems it was not to be the case, as I had not the least thought about doing as I did when we parted from Furness and you not ten minutes before. She was very quear with me all the way from the chapel; she began worse at the bottom of the lane.
As I can forgive you all, I hope you can forgive me. Do not bear my parents no malice; they could not help it. I had it in my mind to put myself away, but my heart failed me after I cut her. I had it in my mind at times before, but when we was content I never thought about it.
I have brought great trouble on all our friends; I have our father’s and mother’s gray hairs down to the grave with sorrow. I think our fathers will never look up in this world again. I hope it will be such a warning to them as they have not had a late. I feel that I deserve all that I shall get in this world.
I hope He has received that one soul he can save to the uttermost. I am not worthy to ask him for forgiveness, but I feel he can forgive me if it be his will. He gave his only begotten son to save them that is lost; tho’ their sins be red like as crimson as wool, as mine has been the vilest of the vile. I hope you will all turn to him and repent of your sins. You only have a little longer to be in the world; you do not know how soon.
As we little thought this we expected being happy married by this; so if you wish to see me or write either I shall be very glad, as we little know what has to be in a year. Farewell dear friends, farewell, if we shall meet no more we shall meet in heaven if the Lord’s will be done. I hope you have got her likeness.
J. A.
Final Reflections
Each of Atkinson’s surviving letters opens with the words “Dear Friend” (or *“Dear Friends”). This repeated salutation is more than courtesy: it demonstrates consistency, deliberation, and a conscious attempt to frame himself in fellowship with Mary-Jane’s family, even after her murder.
Such repetition shows coherence of thought and awareness of audience, contradicting the claim of “imbecility” under which he was acquitted. Far from being the product of a disordered mind, the letters illustrate a sustained effort to justify himself and to shape the narrative of his guilt and repentance.
Equally telling is Atkinson’s choice of recipients. By addressing Mary-Jane’s brother and sister rather than her parents, he directed his words toward those he likely knew most closely and who, as contemporaries, might still be swayed by appeals to shared memories and youthful affinity. His letters recall private quarrels, reconciliations, and family tensions in a tone that suggests familiarity and intimacy. In doing so, Atkinson positions himself as almost still within their circle, even writing to the brother that he “should have been [his] brother” had events turned out differently. This calculated framing demonstrates not only his awareness of audience but also his deliberate effort to maintain kinship ties and defend his actions. Far from incoherent or childlike, the letters show a man actively managing narrative and relationship in the aftermath of violence.
These letters are reproduced with permission for online use. Original source: The British Journal of Psychiatry (1859), Cambridge University Press. Available at: Atkinson, J.A. (1859) ‘James Atkinson’s Prison Letters’, Journal of Mental Science, 5(29), pp. 430–434. doi:10.1192/bjp.5.29.430.