NORTHWESTERN
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
EVAN STON
ILLINOIS
mjjTj
CRIMINAL PRISONS
OF LONDON.
THE
CRIMINAL PRISONS
Of LONDON
AND
SCENES OF PRISON LIFE.
RY
HENRY MAYHENP",
AUTHOR GF "LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR«''
AND
JOHN BINNY,
AUTHOR OP "THIEYES AND SWINDLERS," IN "LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.*'
■WITH HTTMEHOXTS ir,X.-U"STE..A.TI02Sr3
JffiOM PHOTOGRAPHS.
LONDON;
CHARLES GRIFFIN AND COMPANY,
10, STATIONERS' HALL COURT.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The present volume completes the series of papers on the lower phases of
London Life, so ably commenced by Mr. Henry Mayhew.
In the first portion of " London Labour and the London Poor/^ the respectable
portion bf the world were for the first time made acquainted with the habits and
pursuits of many thousands of their feUow-creatures, who daily earn an honest
livelihood in the midst of destitution, and exhibit a firmness and heroism in
pursuing ''their daily round and common task" worthy of the highest com¬
mendation. Yet these had long been regarded as the dangerous classes, as men
and women who were little higher than Hottentots in the scale of civilization !
The publication of Mr. Mayhew's investigations, illustrated by the recitals of the
people themselves, for the first time led to a knowledge of the poorer world of
London, of which the upper classes knew comparatively nothing. Acquaintance
with disease is half way towards its remedy, and the knowledge thus acquired, has
led to various amehorations of the hardships undergone by these classes, and to a
better understanding between the various ranks of society, although much stiU
remains to be done.
In the second department of the series " Those who wül not work," Mr.
Mayhew and his able assistants have laid bare the really festering sores of London,
and have shown which are in reality the dangerous classes, the idle, the profligate,
and the criminal ; those who prey upon the health and the property of others, and
who, or many of whom, would not be tolerated in any other European capital.
Here, however, the extreme jealousy with which the law guards the liberty of the
subject when not engaged in any criminal act, so ties up the hands of the
executive, that vice is allowed to parade itself with the most brazen effrontery.
In the present volume the readers Avill, also for the first time, find a complete
account of the Criminal Prisons of London, compiled, like the preceding portions of
the work, from actual investigations, mostly made within the walls, or supplied by
the ofl&cers connected with them. It is scarcely necessary to point out the great
contrast which the prisons of the present day present to those of the past century
and the early part of the present. Formerly the only object in view was punish¬
ment, occasionally of the most careless leniency, and at other times of the most
vüi
CONTENTS.
TUE CONVICT PEISONS OP LONDON—(í-oní¿»«eá) ;
Thb Hulks at Woolwicu Iü7
The History of the Hulks 198
Convict Labour and Discipline at Wool¬
wich 202
Value of Labour at the Hulks 203
Convict Gratmties 205
Badges, etc 206
A Day on Board the " Defence" Hulk 208
The Turning Out of the Convicts 208
Oflicers' Duties 213
Muster and Breakfast, Diet, etc 214
Debarcation of Prisoners for Work in
the Arsenal 216
The Library and School at the Hulks ... 218
The Working Parties in the Arsenal 221
The Convicts' Burial Ghwund 223
The Convicts at Dinner 226
The " Unité" Hospital Ship 228
The "Sulphur" Washing Hulk 229
The " Warrior" Hulk 229
Millbank Peison—Tee Convict Dépôt ... 232
Plan, History, and Discipline of the Prison 235
The Present Use and Regulations of the
Prison 240
The Interior of the Prison 244
The Reception Ward 244
The Chain-room 246
The Cells at Millbank 248
The School-room 249
Working in Separate Cells 250
Peculiar Wards 256
Refractory and Dark Cells 258
Guardmg the Prisoners, etc 259
Breakfast, etc 261
Exercising 262
Large Associated Rooms 263
The InfirSiary 264
The General Ward 265
The Prison Garden and Churchyard 266
The Female Convict Prison at Millbank ... 269
THE CORRECTIONAL PRISONS OP LONDON
The Middlesex House of Coeeection,
CoLDBATH Fields 277
The History and Construction of the
Prison 280
The Discipline of Coldbath Fields Prison 284
The Interior of the Prison 289
The Interior of the "Main" Prison and
Counting the Prisoners 290
The Prisoners' own Clothes Stores 292
Liberation of Prisoners 293
Arrival of Prisoners 294
Visit of Prisoners' Friends 296
Of " Hard " and " Prison " Labour 299
TheTread-MUl 303
The Tread-Wheel Fan ..; 307
Crank Labour 307
ShotDrUl 308
Oakum Picking 310
The Tailors' and Shoemakers' Room 313
The Printing OlEce and Needle Room ... 315
Mat Room 316
Artisan Prisoners 317
Education and Religious Instruction of the
Prisoners 319
Chapel ^20
The Prison Accommodation 322
Cells 322
Dormitories 326
Of the Silent System 328
274
Middlesex House of Coeeection, Cold-
Bath Fields {continued) ;
Report Office , 336
Of the Different Kinds of Prisons and Pri¬
soners, and the Diet allowed to Each 339
Vagrants' Prison 339
Misdemeanants' Prison 340
Fines 341
Of the Prison Kitchen and Diet 346
The Middlesex House of Coeeection,
Tothill Fields 353
Of the Old "Spitals," Sanctuaries, etc. ... 354
The History, Character, and Discipline
of the Prison 359
Of the Boy Prisoners at TothiU Fields
and Boy Prisoners generally 376
The Interior of Tothill Fields Prison 398
The Boys' Work at Tothill Fields ... 420
The Boy Prisoners' School-room and
Library 429
Reception and Discharge of Prisoners ... 431
Of Juvenile Offenders in connection with the
increase of crime in this Country ... 439
The Female Prison at Tothill Fields, and
Female Prisoners generally 453
The Interior of the Female Prison 468
The School-room, Work-room, etc. ... 470
The Nursery 473
The Female Work-room 475
The Female Prisoners' Clothes Stores 483
CONTENTS.
ix
THE CORKEOTIONAL PRISONS OP L(
Thb süekit House dp Coebbotion, Wands¬
worth 487
The -History and Construction of the
Tnaon 489
History of the House of Correction 492
Capacity and Cost 494
Reasons for Building the Chapel on the
Separate System 496
Form of Hard Labour Adopted 496
Of the System of Prison Discipline 497
The Interior of the Prison 500
Reception CeUs 505
Prisoners' Old Clothing-room / 506
Reception Store-room 508
Cells 509
Oakum Picking 510
Mat Making 510
Shoe Making 512
Chapel 512
Exercising Gh-ounds 515
The Pump Hotise 514
Mill House 515
Hand Labour Machines 515
School 516
The Bakery 517
The Kitchen 518
Punishment CeUs 518
Store-rooms 519
The Female Prison, Wandsworth 522
The Reception Ward 523
Central HaU 524
Matron's Clerk 525
The Laundry 526
The Teacher 527
Punishment Cells 528
The Storekeeper 528
Visiting the Cells 530
Return of the Terms of Imprisonment at
Wandsworth / 531
—{continued) :
The City House op Correction, Hollow ay 533
Tlie History and Construction of the
Prison 535
The Interior of HoUoway Prison 539
The Outer Gate and Courtyard 539
Office, Cells, etc., of the Reception
Ward 541
Discharge of Prisoners 543
Mode of Receiving Prisoners 546
Stores 547
Newly Arrived Prisoners | 549
Main Passage 551
Central HaU 553
CeUs 554
Mat Rooms 555
Schools of the Male Prison 5â^
State of Education 562
Tailors' mid Shoemakers' Room 562
Infirmary 566
Chapel 567
Hearing Reports 569
The Treadwheel 570
Exercising Grounds 571
The Kitchen 572
The Engineers' Department 574
Visiting the Prisouers in their CeUs 575
The JuvenUe Wing of the Prison 578
Ordinary Distribution of a Prisoner's
Time 580
The Female House of Correetion, Holloway 580
Reception Ward 580
Laundry 581
The School 582
The Outer Watchman 583
Employment of Prisoners 583
List of the Dietary for Prisoners 584
Average Expenses of HoUoway Prison 586
Return showing the Time and Value of
Prisonera' Labour 587
THE DETENTIONAL PRISONS OP LONDON
NewoatbJail -, 586
Interior of Newgate Jail 593
The Bread Room 594
Murderers' Busts •... 595
TheEÄtchen 597
Corridor of Male Prison 597
CeUs 598
Visiting ofPrisoners by their Friends 600
The Murderers' Cells 601
Burying Ground of the^urderers 601
586
Newqatb Jail {continued) :
Exercising Grounds 602
Old Associated Rooms 603
The Chapel 004
The Female Prison 605
Reception CeUs, Punishment CeUs, &c. 605
The Laundry gjjg
The BoUer Room 607
The Sessions House 607
General Statistics of Newgate Jail 610
X
CONTENTS.
THE CORRECTIONAL PRISONS OF LONDON—(co»í««««íi) :
Th« Houbb of Obtention, Cli-jkkbnwei.l 611
Seoaptioii Ward t. . v* .. 611
Central Hall 616
The Chapel ^. 616
The Kitchen , > 617
Visiting tíie Celia 618
Exercising 6roua<)s 620
The Fehialo Friw>n . 621
Beceptíon Ward 621
The lAûndry 621
The Comdor, etc . V. 621
Crsneral Statistics of Glerkcnwell Prison .. 622
HoBBBMONaBR LANB Jxil 623
Eooeption Word ..".'i.. 62^
HonsEMONOBB Lamb Jail—(eontii'iud)
The Kitchen,-etc < ^ T.. .'n.. 626
The Engineer 626
Tl^e Chapel : 627
Exercising Grounds 627
Visiting the QeÚát 628
The" Infinnai-y 630
The Femgle Prison ...... 630
Reception Ward ; ...... 630
The Laundty 630
The Teache^ ^ 63i
'Visiting the CëlU 631
General- fStetistios of Horsemongef Lane
JaU 632
*#* All after page 498 is' tvriMilA bg Mr, JtAn Sinng,.
LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS.
Feontispiece, London Traffic aa seen from the Top of St. Paul «.
London as a Geeat Woeld : —
The Port of London.
Map of the Population of London.
Legal London:—
Map of the Inns of Court.
Map of the Metropolitan Prisons.
Opening of the Courts, Westminster.
Ceiminal London':—
Ticket of Leave Men.
Male and Female Convicts.
Pentonville Pbison :—
Bird's-eye View.
Corridor.
Portcullis Gateway.
Convicts Exercising.
Separate Cell.
The Chapel during Divine Service.
Chief Warder.
Instrument for Signalling the Prisoners.
The Female Convict Peison at Beiiton :—
Bird's-eye View.
Separate Cell in the old Part.
Separate CeU in the new Part.
Principal Matron.
Wash House.
Ironing Room.
The Chapel.
The Convict Nursery,
Female Convicts Exercising.
Females at Work during Silent Hour.
The Hulks at Woolwich :—
The "Defence" Hulk and the " Unité" Hos¬
pital Ship.
Chapel on Board the " Defence."
A Ward on Board the "Defence."
Sectional View of the " Defence."
Plans of the Decks of the " Defence."
The Hulks at Woolwich—(continued) ;
Convicts forming a Mortar Battery.
Convicts Scraping Shot.
The Escape SignaL
Tlie Convicts' Burial Ground.
The Convict's Flower.
Convicts returning to the Hulks.
The "Warrior" Hulk with the "Sulphur"
Washing Ship.
The Deck of the " Unité" Hospital Ship.
Millbank Peison :—
General View.
Lird's-eye View.
General Plan.
The Workshop under the Silent System.
The Chain Room.
Prisoner at Work in Separate CelL
Prisoner in Refractory Cell.
Convicts Working in the Garden Ground.
Female Convict in Canvas Dress.
Burial Ground.
House op Coeeection, Coldbath Fields :—
Gateway.
Bird's-eye View.
Ground Plan.
Fumigating Prisoners' Clothing.
Friends Visiting Prisoners.
Large Oakum Room under the Silent System.
Prisoners Working at the Tread Wheel.
The Tread Wheel Fan.
The Tailors' and Shoemakers' Room.
Mat Room.
Dormitory.
Liberation of Prisoners.
House op Coeeection, Tothill Fields :—
General View.
Bird's-eye View.
Ground Plan.
Workshop on the Silent System.
xü
LIST OF ILLUSTEATÍONS.
House op Cokeectioit, Tothili FieiiDS—
{pontirmed) :
Girls' School Room.
Boys Exercising.
Female Prisoners' own Clothes Store.
Boys' School Boom.
Court Yard and Governor's House.
Serving Dinner in the Boys' Prison.
Mothers with their Cliildren Exercising.
subebt House op Coeeection, Wandswoete :—
General View.
Bird's-eye View.
Glround Plan.
Interior, with the Prisoners Turning out
after Dinner.
Veiled Female Prisoner.
Cell, with Prisoner at Crank Labour.
Pump Boom.
Adult School in the Chapel.
Ventilating haft.
Prisoner's Mattrass.
Cell Indicator.
Whip, or Bod.
Whipping Post.
City House op Coeeeotioit, Hoixowat
Bird's-eye View.
General View.
Ground Plan.
Outer Gate.
The City House op Coeeection, Holuoway—
{continued) ;
Tread Wheel and Oakum Shed.
Inner Gate.
Interior of the Eitehen.
Heating Apparatus.
Lifting Apparatus for Serving Dinner.
Separate Washing Cell.
Newgate Jail:—
General View.
Chamberlain's Gate.
Old Newgate.
Ground Plan before the Becent Alterations.
Present Ground Plan.
Gateway, and Prisoners' Friends.
Court, with Trial Going on.
Prisoners' Consulting Boom.
Condemned Cell.
House op Detention, Cleekenwell :—
Bird's-eye View.
General View.
Ground Plan.
Interior, Prisoners' Friends Visiting.
Prison Van Taking up Prisoners.
Hobsemongeb Lane Jail:—
General View.
Groimd Plan.
THE POET OF LONDON.
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
»
INTRODUCTION.
§ 1-
LONDON CONSlDfiRED AS A GREAT WORLD.
" Londres ti est pirn une ville : c'est une province comerte de maisons," says M. Horace Say,
the celebrated French economist.
The remark, however, Hke most French mots, is more sparkling than lucid; for, if
the term " province" be used—and so it often is by the inconsiderate—as if it were synony¬
mous with the Anglo-Saxon " shire," then assuredly there is no county in England nor
" departemend' in France, which, in the extent of its population, is comparable to the British
Metropolis. Not only does London contain nearly twice as many souls as the most extensive
division of the French Empire, but it houses upwards of a quarter of a million more indi¬
viduals than any one county in Great Britain.*
How idle, therefore, to speak of London as a mere province, when it comprises within
its boundaries a greater number of people than many a kingdom ! the population of the
British Metropolis exceeding—^by some five hundred thousand persons—^that of the whole of
Hanover, or Saxony, or "Wurtemburg ; whilst the abstract portion of its people congregated
on the Middlesex side of the Thames only, out-numbers the entire body of individuals
included within the Grand Duchy of Baden.j-
• The popiilation of the department du Nnrd is, in round numbers, 1,130,000 ; and that of the Seine
1,365,000. The population of Lancaster, on the other hand, is 2,031,236.
t The population of the above-mentioned countries is, according to the returns of 1850, as follows:—
Saxony, 1,836,433 ; Hanover, 1,758,856 ; Wurtemburg, 1 743,827 ; Baden, 1,349,930.—M'Culloeh's Gm
graphieal Bictionar"
4
THE GREAT WORLD DP LONDON.
Nay, more: towards the close of the 14th century, there were not nearly so many men,
women, and chüdren scattered throughout all England as there are now crowded within the
Capital alone.* '
Further : assuming the population of the entire world, according to the calculations of
Balhi (as gpven in the Salanee Politiq^ du Globe), to be 1075 millions, that of the Great
Metropolis constitutes no less than 1-450th part of the whole; so that, in every thousand of
Die aggregate composing the immense human family, two at least are Londoners.
In short, London may be safely asserted to be the most densely-populated city in all the
world—containing one-fourth more people than Pekin, and two-thirds more than Paris ;
more than twice as many as Constantinople ; four times as many as St. Petersburg ; five
times as many as Vienna, or New York, or Madrid ; nearly seven times as many as Berlin ;
eight times as many as Amsterdam ; nine times as many as Rome ; fifteen times as many
as Copenhagen ; and seventeen times as many as Stockholm, f
Surely then London, being, as we have shown, more numerously peopled than any single
province—and, indeed, than many an entire state—may be regarded as a distinct Would ;
and, in accordance with this view, Addison has spoken of the British Metropolis as composed
of different races like a world, instead of being made up of one cognate family like a town.
" When I consider this great city," he says, J " in its several quarters or divisions, I look
upon it as an aggregate of various nations, distinguished from each other by their respective
customs, manners, and interests. The courts of two countries do not so much differ from
one another as the Court and City of London in their peculiar ways of Hfe and conversation.
In short, the inhabitants of St. James's, notwithstanding they live under the same laws and
speak the same language, are a distinct people from those of Cheapside, by several climates
and degrees, in their ways of thinking and conversing together."
Viewing the Great Metropolis, therefore, as an absolute world, Belgravia and Bethnal Green
become the opposite poles of the London sphere—the frigid zones, as it were, of the Capital ;
the one icy cold from its exceeding fashion, form, and ceremony ; and the other wrapt in a
perpetual winter of withering poverty. Of such a world. Temple Bar is the unmistakable
equator, dividing the City hemisphere from that of the West End, and with a line of Banks,
representative of the Gold Coast, in its immediate neighbourhood. What Greenwich, too, is
to the merchant seamen of England, Charing Gross is to the London cabmen—^the zero from
which aU the longitudes of the Metropolitan world are measured.
Then has not the so-caUed World of London its vast continents, like the veritable world
of which it forms a part? What else are the enormous trans-Thamesian territories of South-
wark and Lambeth? Moreover, the localities of St. Benetfink, and St. Benetsherehog, or
even Bevis Marks, in the heart of the City, are as much terra incognita, to the great body of
Londoners themselves, as is Lake Tchad in the centre of Africa to all but the Landers or Dr.
Barths of our race.
Again, as regards the metropolitan people, tlm polite Parisian is not more widely
different from the barbarous Botecudo, than is the lack-a-daisical dandy at Almack's from
the Billingsgate "rough." Ethnologists have reduced the several varieties of mankind
into five distinct types; but surely the judges who preside at the courts in Westminster
are as morally distinct from the Jew " fences " of Petticoat Lane as the Caucasian from the
Malayan race. Is not the "pet parson," too, of some West End Puseyite Chapel as ethically
• The population of England in the year 1377 was 2,092,978.
t The figures from which the above deductions are made are as follows :—Pekin (reputed population
2,000,000; Paris, 1,650,000 ; Constantinople, 950,000; St. Petersburg, 600,000; Vienna, 500,000; New
York,'500,000; Madrid, 450,000 ; Berlin, 380,000 ; Amsterdam, 300,000; Rome, 275,000 ; Copenhagen,
160,000; Stockholm, 150,000 Hagdyn's Dictionary oj Dales. Sixth lidition.
i Spectator, No. 340.
LONDON CONSIDERED AS A GREAT WORLD.
5
and physically different from the London prize-fighter, and he again from the City Alderman,
as is the Mongol from the Negro, or the hegro from the Red Indian.
In the World of London, indeed, we find almost every geographic species of the human
family. If Arabia has its nomadic tribes, the British Metropolis has its vagrant hordes as
weU. If the Carib Islands have their savages, the English Capital has types almost as
brutal and uncivilized as they. If India has its Thugs, London has its garotte men.
Nor are the religious creeds of the entire globe more multiform than those of the Great
Metropolis. We smile with pity at the tribes of the Bight of Benim, who have a lizard for
their particular divinity ; and throw up our hands and brows in astonishment on learning that
the Bissagos offer up their prayers to a barn-door cock. But have we not among us, in this
" most enlightened Metropolis," and in these most " enlightened times," people who devoutly
believe that Mrs. Joanna Southcott was designed to have been the mother of the Messiah ?
others who are morally convinced that Joe Smith was inspired by the Almighty to write
the Book of Mormon—an unsuccessful novel that is regarded as a second gospel by thousands;
others again who find a special revelation from the Most High in the babbling of nonsense
by demented women—the uttering of " unknown tongues," as it is termed ? and others still
whose steadfast faith it is, that the special means of communing with the spirits of the other
world are alphabets and secret tappings under the table !
Further: the philological differences of the several races scattered over the globe are
hardly more manifold than are the distinct modes of speech peculiar to the various classes of
Metropolitan society. True, the characteristic dialect of Bow-bells has ahnost become
obsolete ; and aldermen, now-a-days, rarely transpose the v's and w's, or " exasperate "
the h's, and no longer speak of some humble residence as " an 'ouse, an 'ut, or an 'ovel,"
nor style it, with like orthoepy, a " Hightahan wiUer," or a " French cottage horny {ornée)."
But though this form has passed away, there are many other modes of speech still peculiar
10 the Metropolitan people.
Your London exquisite, for instance, talks of taking—aw—^his afternoon's wide—aw—in
Wotton Wo—aw—aw—or of going to the Opewa—aw—or else of wunning down—aw—to
the Wa.ces—aw—aw.
The affected Metropolitan Miss, on the other hand, loves the ble-ue ske-i, and her hootie
little doggie and birdie, and delights in being key-ind to the poor, and thinks Miss So-and-
so looked " sweetly pretty" at church in her new bonnet.
Then the fast young gentleman positively must speak to his governor, and get the old
brick to fork out some more tin, for positively he can hardly afford himself a weed of an
evening—^besides he wants a more nobby crib, as the one he hangs out in now is only fit
for some pleb or cad. It really isn't the Stilton.
Moreover, there is the " Cadgers' (beggars') cant," as it is called—a style of language
which is distinct from the slang of the thieves, being arranged on the principle of using
words that are similar in sound to the ordinary expressions for the same idea. " S'pose
now, your honour," said a " shallow cove," who was giving us a lesson in the St. Giles'
classics, " I wanted to ask a codger^ to come and have a glasé of rund with me, and smoke
a pipe^ of haccer^ over a game of ca/rds^ with some Mokes' at hymé—I should say, Splodger^
will you have a Jack-surj?as«^ of finger-and-iAwiwi,' and blow your yard of tripe* of nosey-me-
knacker* while we have a touch of the broads* with some other heaps of coke' at my drum"? "*
Again, we have the " Coster-slang," or the language used by the costermongers, and
which consists merely in pronouncing each word as if it were spelt backwards :—" I say.
Curly, will you do a top of reeb (pot of beer) ?" one costermonger may say to the other.
" It's oU'doog, Whelkey, on doog (ño good, no good)," the second may reply. " I've had a
reg'lar troseno (bad sort) to-day. I've been doing b g dab (bad) with my toi (lot,
• It will be readily observed, by means of the numbers, that the above cant words are mere nonsensical
terms, rhyming with the vernacular ones to which the same figure is annexed.
6
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
or stock)—^ha'n't made a (penny), s'elpme." " Wky, I've cleared a_/?«#<íA-e«í»'c (half-a-
crown) a'ready," Master Wkelkey will answer, perhaps. " But kool the esilop (look at thé
police) ; kool him (look at him) Curly ! Fbm-us ! (be off.) I'm going to do the tigktner
(have my dinner)."
Lastly comes the veritable slang, or English "Argot," i.e., the secret language used by
the London thieves. This is made up, in a great degree, of the mediaeval Latin, in which
the Church service was formerly chanted, and which indeed gave rise to the term cant
(from the Latin cwnta/re), it having been the custom of the ancient beggars to " intone" their
prayers when asking for alms.* "Can you roker Romany (can you speak cant)?" one
individual " on the cross" will say to another, who is not exactly " on the square;" and if
the reply he in the affirmative, he will probably add—" What is your monekeer (name) ?—
Where do you stall to in the huey (where do you lodge in the town) ?" " Oh, I drop the
main toper (get out of the high-road)," would doubtless be the answer, " and slink into the
ken (lodging-house) in the back drum (street)." " WUl you have a shant o' gatter (pot of
beer) after all this dowry of parny (lot of rain) ? I've got a teviss (shilling) left in my dye
(pocket)."
To speak of the " World of London," then, is hardly to adopt a metaphor, since the
metropolitan people differ from one another—as much as if they belonged to different races—
not only in their manners and customs, as well as religion, but in their forms of speech ;
for, if we study the peculiar dialect of each class, we shaU find that there is some species of
cant or other appertaining to every distinct circle of society ; and that there is a slang of
the Drawing-room, of Exeter Hall, of the Inns of Court, the Mess-table, the Editor's-room,
the Artist's Studio, the Hospital, the Club-house, the Stable, the Workshopj the Kitchen,
ay, and even the Houses of Parliament—as distinctly as there is the slang of Billingsgate and
the " padding ken."
But London is not only a World : it is a Great World as weU.
We have been so long accustomed to think of worlds as immense masses, measuring some
thousands of miles in diameter, that it seems almost like hyperbole to class a mere patch of
the earth, like the British Metropolis, among the mundane bodies. The discoveries of the
present century, however, have revealed to us an order of celestial worlds, many of which
are hardly as big as German kingdoms.
• The word " patter," which is the slang for speech, is borrowed merely from the "pater-noster»" that the
old-established mendicants delighted to mumble. So, too, the term " fake" (to do anything) is merely
the Latin facere ; and a " fakement" (anything done or written, as a beggar's petition), the classic /aci-
mentum. But a large number of foreign words have since been introduced into this species of cant, for as
secrecy is the main object of all cantoloquy, every outlandish term is incorporated with the "lingo," as soon
as it can he picked up from any of the continental vagrants frequenting the " padding kens" (low lodging-
houses) throughout the country. Thus the term "caraer," for a gentleman's house (Italian casa), has been
borrowed from the organ hoys ; and " ogle" (Dutch, Oogelijn, a little eye), from the Hollanders on board
the Billingsgate eel-boats. " Fogle," for a handkerchief, a " bird's eye wipe" (German, vogel, a bird), has
been taken, on the other hand, from the German vagrants, such as the bird-cage men, &c. ; " showfull,"
base money, which is likewise the Teutonic shoful (bad stuff—trash), has had the same origin ; and "bone,"'
which is the slang for good, and evidently the French hon, has been got, probably, from the old dancing-
dog men. The gipsy language has also lent a few words to the stock of slang, whilst the British, and
even the Anglo-Saxon speech of our forefathers have many a phrase preserved in it (the vulgar being, as.
Latham says, the real conservators of the Saxon tongue). For instance, the slang term " gammy " (bad)
comes from the Welsh gam, crooked, queer ; and the cant expression, " it isn't the cheese," is pure old English,
signifying, literally, it is not what I should choose ; for Chaucer, in the Canterbwry Tales, has the line—
" To cAerse, whether she wold him marry or no."
Moreover, fanciful metaphors contribute largely to the formation of slang. It is upon this principio that
the mouth has come to he styled the " tater-trap the teeth, " dominoes the nose, the " paste-horn
the blood "claret;" shoes, "crab-shells j" umbrellas, "mushrooms" (or, briefly, "mush") ; prisons, "stone
jugs," and so on.
A BALLOON VIEW OF LONDON.
7
These "asteroids," or "planetoids," as they are sometimes called, are supposed by
astronomers to he fragments of a great planet—mere star-chips, or splinters of some shattered
larger sphere—^that formerly occupied the ethereal gap between Mars and Jupiter.* Even
so, then, may London itself be considered as a kind of terroii—a distinct chip of the
greater world, the Earth.
The discs of the minor celestial spheres, Humboldt tells us in his Cosmos, "have a
real surface, measuring not much more than half that of France, Madagascar, or Borneo."
Indeed, Mr. Hind says, that " the largest of the twenty-five small planets probably does not
exceed 450 miles in diameter ;"f so that such a planetary world is not so long—by upwards
of a himdred miles—as even our own little island.
Now, as this is the measure of the largest of the minor planetary spheres, surely we can
conceive that some of those bodies may be barely bigger than the Metropolis itself, seeing
that the English Capital covers an area of no less than 120 odd square miles in extent.
If then, by some volcanic convulsion—some subterranean quake and explosion—the earth
were suddenly to burst, like a mundane bomb, and, being shattered into a score or two of ter-
roid fragments, the great Metropolis were to be severed from the rest of the globe, London is
quite large enough to do duty as a separate world, and to fall to revolving by itself about the
sun—with Hampstead and Sydenham for its north and south poles, doomed alike to a six
months' winter—^with the whole line of Oxford Street, Holbom, and Cheapside scorching
under the everlasting summer of what would then be the metropolitan torrid zone ; and
whilst it was day at Kensington, night reigning at Müe End.
What a wondrous W orld, too, would this same abstract London be ! AWorld with scarcely
an acre of green fields in all its 120 square miles of area—a World unable to grow hardly a
sack of com, or to graze a fiock of sheep for itself—a World choke-fall of houses, and reticulated
with streets, as thick as the veins on a vine-leaf—and a World with two millions and a half
of people crowded within it almost as close as negroes in the hold of a slave ship !
Can Ceres, or Pallas, or Jimo, or Astrea, or Iris, or indeed any other of the twenty-five
minor planets, be in any way comparable to it ?
§ 2.
A BALLOON VIEW OP LONDON.
Theeb is an innate desire in all men to view the earth and its cities and plains from
" exceeding high places," since even the least imaginative can feel the pleasure of beholding
some broad landscape spread out like a bright-coloured carpet at their feet, and of looking
down upon the world, as though they scanned it with an eagle's eye. For it is an exquisite
treat to all minds to find that they have the power, by their mere vision, of extending their
consciousness to scenes and objects that are miles away; and as the intellect experiences a
special delight in being able to comprehend aU the minute particulars of a subject under one
associate whole, and to perceive the previous confusion of the diverse details assume the form
and order of a perspicuous unity ; so does the eye love to see the country, or the town, which
it usually knows only as a series of disjointed parts—as abstract fields, hills, rivers, parks,
streets, gardens, or churches—^become all combined, like the coloured fragments of the
kaleidoscope, into one harmonious and varied scene.
With great cities, however, the desire to perceive the dense multitude of houses at one single
* Mr. Daniel Sirkwood, of Fotsville Academy, has ventured theoretically to restore the fractured primi¬
tive planet, by calculations of the remaining fragments; and he finds that it must have had a diameter of about
half that of the earth, and a day of more than twice the length of our own.—Beporlt of tht British Association
t Illustraied London Asironotny, page 60.
8
THE GREAT'WORLD OF LONDON.
glance, instead of by some thousand different views, and to observe the intricate net-work of
the many thoroughfares brought into the compass of one large web as it were ; the various
districts, too, with their factories, their markets, their docks, or their mansions, all dove¬
tailed, one into the other, as if they were the pieces of some puzzle-map—^is a feeling strong
upon every one—the wisest as well as the most frivolous—upon all, indeed, from the philoso¬
pher down to the idler about town.
We had seen the Great Metropolis under almost every aspect. We had dived into the
holes and corners hidden from the honest and well-to-do portion of the London community.
We had visited Jacob's Island (the plague-spot of the British Capital) in the height of
the cholera, when to inhale the very air of the place was to imbibe the breath of death.
We had sought out the haunts of beggars and thieves, and passed hours communing
with them as to their histories, habits, thoughts, and impulses. We had examined the
W orld of London below the moral surface, as it were ; and we had a craving, like the rest
of mankind, to contemplate it from above ; so, being offered a seat in the car of the Royal
Nassau Balloon, we determined upon accompanying Mr. Green into the clouds on his five
hundredth ascent.
It was late in the evening (a fine autumn one) when the gun was fired that was the
signal for the great gas-bag to be loosened from the ropes that held it down to the soil ; and
immediately the buoyant machine bounded, like a big ball, into the air. Or, rather let
us say, the earth seemed to sink suddenly down, as if the spot of ground to which it had been
previously fastened had been constructed upon the same principle as the Adelphi stage,
and admitted of being lowered at a moment's notice. Indeed, no sooner did the report of
the gun clatter in the air, than the people, who had before been grouped about the car,
appeared to fall from a level with the eye ; and, instantaneously, there was seen a multitude
of flat, upturned faces in the gardens below, with a dense chevaux de frise of arms extended
above them, and some hundreds of outstretched hands fluttering fareweR to us.
The moment after this, the balloon vaulted over the trees, and we saw the roadway
outside the gardens stuck all over with mobs of little black Lilliputian people, while the
hubbub of the voices below, and the cries of "Ah iai-loon!" from the boys, rose to the ear
like the sound of a distant school let loose to play.
Now began that peculiar panoramic effect which is the distinguishing feature of the first
portion of a view from a balloon, and which arises from the utter absence of aU sense of
motion in the machine itself, and the consequent transference of the movement to the ground
beneath. The earth, as the aeronautic vessel glided over it, seemed positively to consist of
a continuous series of scenes which were being drawn along underneath us, as if it were
some diorama laid ^at upon the ground, and almost gave one the notion that the world was
an endless landscape stretched upon rollers, which some invisible sprites below were busy
revolving for our especial amusement.
Then, as we floated along above the fields, in a line with the Thames towards Richmond,
and looked over the edge of the car in which we were standing (and which, by the bye,
was like a big " buck-basket," reaching to one's breast), the sight was the most exquisite
visual delight ever experienced. The houses directly underneath us looked like the tiny
wooden things out of a child's box of toys, and the streets as if they were rtits in the
ground ; and we could hear the hum of the voices rising fr-om every spot we passed over,
fidnt as the buzzing of so many bees.
Far beneath, in the direction we were sailing, lay the suburban fields; and here the
earth, with its tiny hills and plains and streams, assumed the appearance of the little coloured
plaster models of countries. The roadways striping the land were like narrow brown
ribbons, and the river, which we could see winding far away, resembled a long, gray,
metallic-looking snake, creeping through the fields. The bridges over the Thames were
positively like planks ; and the tiny black barges, as they floated along the stream, seemed
A BALLOON VIEW OF LONDON.
9
no bigger than summer insects on the water. The largest meadows were about the size of
green-baize table covers ; and across these we could just trace the line of the South-Westem
Eailway, with the little whiff of white steam issuing from some passing engine, and no
greater in volume than the jet of vapour from an ordinary tea-kettle.
Then, as the dusk of evening approached, and the gas-lights along the different lines
of road started into light, one after another, the ground seemed to be covered with
little illumination lamps, such as are hung on Christmas-trees, and reminding one of
those that are occasionally placed, at intervals, along the grass at the edge of the gravel-
walks in suburban tea-gardens ; whilst the clusters of little lights at the spots where the
hamlets were scattered over the scene, appeared like a knot of fire-flies in the air ; and in
the midst of these the eye could, here and there, distinguish the tiny crimson speck of
some railway signal.
In the opposite direction to that in which the wind was insensibly wafting the balloon,
lay the leviathan Metropolis, with a dense canopy of smoke hanging over it, and reminding
one of the fog of vapour that is often seen steaming up from the fields at early morning.
It was impossible to tell where the monster city began or ended, for the buildings stretched
not only to the horizon on either side, but far away into the distance, where, owing to the
coming shades of evening and the dense fumes from the million chimneys, the town seemed
to blend into the sky, so that there was no distinguishing earth from heaven. The
multitude of roofs that extended back from the foreground was positively like a dingy red
sea, heaving in bricken biUows, and the seeming waves rising up one after the other till the
eye grew wearied with following them. Here and there we could distinguish little bare green
patches of parks, and occasionally make out the tiny circular enclosures of the principal
squares, though, from the height, these appeared scarcely bigger than wafers. Further, the
fog of smoke that over-shadowed the giant town was pierced with a thousand steeples and
pin-like factory-chimneys.
That little building, no bigger than one of the small ehina houses that are used for
burning pastilles in, is Buckingham Palace—with St. James's Park, dwindled to the size of
a card-table, stretched out before it. Yonder is Bethlehem Hospital, with its dome, now of
about the same dimensions as a beU.
Then the little mites of men, crossing the bridges, seemed to have no more motion in
them than the animalcules in cheese ; while the streets appeared more like cracks in the
soil than highways, and the tiny steamers on the river were only to be distinguished by
the thin black thread of smoke trailing after them.
Indeed, it was a most wonderful sight to behold that vast bricken mass of churches and
hospitals, banks and prisons, palaces and workhouses, docks and refuges for the destitute,
parks and squares, and courts and alleys, which make up London—all blent into one immense
black spot—to look down upon the whole as the birds of the air look down upon it, and
see it dwindled into a mere rubbish heap—^to contemplate from afar that strange conglome¬
ration of vice, avarice, and low cunning, of noble aspirations and humble heroism, and to
grasp it in the eye, in all its incongruous integrity, at one single glance—to take, as it
were, an view of that huge towm where, perhaps, there is more virtue and more
iniquity, more wealth and more want, brought together into one dense focus than in
any other part of the earth—to hear the hubbub of the restless sea of life and emotion
below, and hear it, like the ocean in a shell, whispering of the incessant stru^lings
and chafings of the distant tide—to swing in the air high ahove aU the petty jedousies
and heart-burnings, small ambitions and vain parade of "polite" society, and feel, for
once, tranquil as a babe in a cot, and that you are hardly of the earth ea^y, as. Jacob¬
like, you mount the aerial ladder, and half lose sight of the " great commercial world"
beneath, where men are regarded as piere counters to play with, and where to ¿b your
neighbour as your neighbour would do you constitutes the first principle in the religion
20
THE GEEAT "WOELD OF LOHDOH.
of trade—to feel yourself floating through the endless realms of space, and drinking in
the pure thin air of the skies, as you go sailing along almost among the stars, free as *' the
lark at heaven's gate," and enjoying, for a brief half hour, at least, a foretaste of that
Elysian destiny which is the ultimate hope of all.
Such is the scene we behold, and such the thoughts that stir the brain on contem¬
plating London from the car of a balloon.*
* There are some peculiar effects in connection with balloon travelling that are worthy of further mention.
The first is the utter absence of all sense of motion in the vehicle. Motion, indeed, at all times is only made
known to us by those abrupt changes in our direction which consist of what are termed joltings ; for the.
body, from its " vis inertia," partaking of the movement of the conveyance in which it is travelling, is, of
course, thrown forcibly forwards or sideways, directly the course of the machine is violently arrested or
altered. In a balloon, moreover, we are not even made conscious of our - motion by the ordinary feeling
of the air blowing against the face as we rush through it ; for as the vessel travels ioith the wind, no such
effect is produced. And it is most striking to find the clouds, from the same cause, apparently as motionless as
rocks ; for as they too are travelling with the balloon, and at precisely the same rate, they naturally cannot
but appear to be absolutely still. Hence, under such circumstances, we have no means of telling whether we
are ascending or descending, except by pieces of paper thrown out from the car, and which are of course
left below if the machine be rising, and above if it he falling ; indeed, when the balloon in which Albert
Smith ascended from Yauxhall burst, and he and his aerial companions were being precipitated to the earth
with the velocity of a stone, the only indication they got of the rate of their descent was by resorting to the
little paper " logs," before mentioned. And Mr. Green assured me, that though he has travelled in the air
during a gale of wind at the rate of ninety-five miles in the hour, he was utterly unconscious not only of
the velocity with which he had been projected, as it were, through the atmosphere, but also of the fury of the
hurricane itself—feeling as perfectly tranquil all the while as if he had been seated in his easy-chair by
his own fireside; nor was it until he reached the earth, and the balloon became fixed to the ground by
means of the grapnel, that he was sensible of the violence of the wind (and it was the same with us during
our trip) ; for then, as the machine offered a considerable obstruction to the passage of the air, the power of
the gale was rendered apparent—since, strange to SKy^without resistance there is no force. Hence there is hut
little danger in aeronautic excursions whUe the balloon remains in the air—and so indeed there is with a ship,
as long as it has plenty of sea room ; whereas, directly the aerial machine is fixed to the ground, it is like a
stranded vessel, and becomes the sport of the wind, as the ship, similarly circumstanced, is of the waves.
Another curious effect of thé aerial ascent was, that the earth, when we were at our greatest altitude, positively
appearád concas)e, looking like a huge dark bowl rather than the convex sphere, such as we naturally
expect to see it. This, however, was a mere effect of perspeetive, for it is a law of vision that the horizon or
boundary line of the sight always appears on a level with the eye—the fore-ground being, in all ordinary
views, directly at the feet of the spectator, and the extreme hack-ground some five feet and a half above it,
while the relative distances of the intermediate objects are represented pictorially to the eye by their relative
heights above the lowest, and therefore the nearest object in the scene—so that pictorial distance is really at
right angles to tangible distance, the former being a line parallel with the body, and the latter one perpen¬
dicular to it. Hence, as the horizon always appears to be on a level with our eye (which is literally the
centre of a hollow sphere rather than of a flat circle during vision), it naturally seems tô rise as we rise, until
at length the elevation of the circular boundary line of the sight becomes so marked, owing to our own
elevation, that the earth assumes the anomalous appearance, as we have said, of a concave rather than a
convex body. This optical illusion has, according to the best of our recollection, never been noticed or
explained before, so that it becomes worthy of record. Another curious effect, but upon another sense, was
the extraordinary, and indeed painful, pressure upon the ears which occurred at our greatest altitude. This
was precisely the same sensation as is produced during a ^escent in a diving-bell, and it at first seemed
strange that such a result—which, in the case of the diving-bell, obviously arises from the extreme
condensation of the air within the submerged vessel, and its consequent greater pressure on the tympanum—
should be brought about in a balloon immediately it enters a stratum of air wbere tbe rarefaction is greater
than usual. Here were two directly opposite causes producing the same effect. A moment's reflection,
however, taught us that the sensation experienced in the diving-hell arises from the drum of the ear being
unduly strained by the pressure of the external air ; whereas the sensation experienced in the balloon was
produced by the air mside the ear acting in the same manner.
SIZE AND POPULATION OF LONDON.
11
^ 3.
SOME IDEA OP THE SIZE AND POPULATION OF LONDON.
Ix is strange how hard it is for the mind to arrive at any definite notion as to aggregate
numbers or dimensions in space. The savage who can count only up to ten, points to the
hairs of his head, in order to convey the complex idea of some score or two of objects; and
although educated people can generally form a concrete conception of hundreds, without
losing all sense of the individual units composing the sum, it is certain, nevertheless, that
when the aggregate reaches thousands and millions, even the best disciplined intellects
have a very hazy notion of the distinct numerical elements making up the gross idea—
the same as they have of the particular stars that go to form some unresolved nebulae, or of
the several atoms in the forty thousand millions of süiceops shells of insects that Ehrenberg
assures us are contained in every cubic inch of the polishing slate of Bilin.
Is it not, then, the mere pedantry of statistics to inform the reader, while professing to
describe the size and population of the Great Metropolis, that, according to the returns of the
last census, it is 78,029 statute acres, or 122 square miles, in extent; that it contains 327,391
houses ; and that it numbers 2,362,236 souls within its boundaries ! '
Surely the mind is no more enabled to realize the immensity of the largest city in the
world by such information as this, than we are helped to comprehend the vastness of the
sea by being told that the total area of all the oceans amounts to 145 millions jf square miles,
and that it contains altogether 6,441 billions of tons of common salt.*
"We wiU, however, endeavour to conjure up a more vivid picture of the giant city in the
brain, not only of those who have never visited the spot, but of those who, though living
in it all their lives, have hardly any clearer ideas of the town, in its vast integrity, than the
fishes have of the Atlantic in which they swim.
We must premise, then, that it is as difficult to tell where the Metropolis begins, and
where it ends, as it is to point put the particular line of demarcation between the several
colours of the rainbow ; for the suburban villages blend so insensibly into the city, that one
might as weU attempt to define the precise point where the water begins to be salt at the
mouth of some estuary.
Hence, it has been found necessary to pass special Acts of Parliament in order to let
Londoners know how far London really extends into the country, and to define the size of
the Great Metropolis according to law.f
This is, however, very much of a piece with the renowned stroke of legislation performed
• See Amted's Geohgy, page 28.
t The following are the terms of the Burial Act (15 and 16 Vict., cap. 85) :—" For the purposes of this Act,
the expression ' the Metropolis' shall be construed to mean and include the Cities and Liberties of London
and Westminster, the Borough of Southwark, and the Parishes, Precincts, Townships, and Places mentioned
in the Schedule (A.) to this Act."
SCHEDULE A.
The City of London and the Liberties thereof, the
Inner Temple, and Middle Temple, and all
other Places and Parts of Places contained
within the exterior Boundaries of the Liberties
of the City of London.
In Middlesex.
The City and Liberties of Westminster.
The Parishes of St. Margaret and St. John the
Evangelist.
The Parish of St. Martin in the Fields.
The Parish of St. George, Hanover Square.
The Parish of St. James.
The Parish of St. Mary-le-Strand, as well within
the Liberty of Westminster as within the Duchy
Liberty.
The Pariah of St. Clement Danes, as well within
the Liberty of Westminster as within the Duchy
Liberty.
12
THE GEEAT "WOELD OE LONDON.
by the progress-hating King Canute, since it is quite as absurd for rulers to say, " Thus far
shalt thou go, and no farther," to the bricks and mortar of London, as to the waves of the ocean.
In the year 1603, for instance, we find that the legal limits of London, " within and
without the walls," were but little better than fifteen Jimdred statute acres ; whereas in the
next century the Metropolis, " according to law," had swoUen to upwards of twenty ifwuscmd
acres. Then at the beginning of the present century the area was farther extended to thirty
thousand acres; and in 1837, it was again increased to forty-six thousand; whilst now it is
allowed by Act of Parliament to cover a surface of no less than seventy-eight thousand acres
in extent.
The Pariah of St. Paul, Covent Garden.
The Parish of St. Anne, Soho.
Whitehall Gardens (whether the same be parochial
or extra-parochial).
Whitehall (whether the same he parochial or extra-
parochial). ,
Richmond Terrace (whether the same he parochial
or extra-parochial).
The Close of the CoU'egiata Church of St. Peter.
The Parishes of St. Giles in the Fields and St.
George, Bloomshury.
The Parishes of St. Andrew, Holbom, and St. George
the Martyr.
The Liberty of Hatton Garden, Sa&on Hill, and
Ely Rents.
The Liberty of the Rolls.
The Parish of St. Paneras.
The Parish of St. John, Hampstead.
The Parish of St. Marylehone.
The Parish of Paddington.
The Precinct of the Savoy.
The Parish of St. Luke.
The Liberty of Glasshouse Yard.
The Parish of St. Sepulchre.
The Parish of St. James, Clerkenwell, including
both Districts of St. James and St. John.
The Parish of St. Mary, Islington.
The Parish of St. Mary, Stoke Newington.
The Charterhouse.
The Parish of St. Mary, Whitechapel.
The Parish of Christchurch, Spitalfields.
The Parish of St. Leonard, Shoreditch.
The Liberty of Norton Folgate.
The Parish of St. John, Hackney.
The Parish of St. Matthew, Bethnal Green.
The Hamlet of Mile-end Old Town.
The Hamlet of Mile-end New Town.
The Parish of St. Mary, Stratford, Bow.
The Parish of Bromley, St. Leonard.
The Parish of All Saints, Poplar.
The Parish of St. Anne, Limehouse.
The Hamlet of Ratcliffe.
The Parish of St. Paul, Shadwell.
The Parish of St. George in the East.
The Parish of St. John, Wapping.
The Liberty of East Smithfield.
The Precinct of St. Catherine.
The Liberty of Her Majesty's Tower of London,
consisting of—
The Liberty of the Old Artillery Ground.
The Parish of Trinity, Minories.
The Old Tower Precinct.
The Precinct of the Tower Within.
The Precinct of Wellclose.
The Parish of Kensington.
The Parish of St. Luke, Chelsea.
The Parish of Fulham.
The Parish of Hammersmith.
Lincoln's Inn.
New Inn.
Gray's Inn.
Staple Inn.
That Part of Fumival's Inn, in the County of Mid¬
dlesex.
Ely Place.
The Parish of Willesden.
In Kent.
The Parish of St. Paul, Deptford.
The Parish of St. Nicholas, Deptford.
The Parish of Greenwich.
The Parish of Woolwich.
The Parish of Charlton.
The Parish of Plumstead.
In Surrey,
The Borough of Southwark.
The Parish of St. George the Martyr.
The Parish of St. Saviour.
The Parish of St. John, Horsleydown.
The Parish of St. Clave.
The Parish of St. Thomas.
The Parish of Battersea (except the Hamlet of
Penge).
The Parish of Bermondsey.
The Parish of Camherwell.
The Parish of Clapham.
The Parish of Lambeth.
The Parish of Newington.
The Parish of Putney.
The Parish of Rotherhithe.
The Parish of Streatham.
The Parish of Tooting.
The Parish of Wandsworth
The Parish of Christchurch.
The Clink Liberty.
The Hamlet of Hatoham in the Parish of Deptford.
SIZE AND POPULATION OF LONDON.
13
Indeed, the increase of the metropolitan population within the last ten years tells ns, that
further house-room has to be provided in London every twelvemonth for upwards of forty
t>imiagTid new comers. Of these about half are strangers ; for, as the annual excess of births
over deaths in the Metropolis amoimts to but little better than half the yearly increase in the
number of the people, it is manifest that nearly twenty thousand individuals must come and
settle in the town every year, from other parts—a rate of immigration as great as if the
entire population of Guernsey had left their native island for the " little village."*
No wonder, then, that the returns show that there are continually 4,000 new houses in
the course of erection ; for it may be truly said our Metropolis increases annually by the
addition of a town of considerable size.
Hence, even though, as Maitland says, London had a century ago absorbed into its body
one city, one borough, and forty-three villages, it stiU continues daily devouring suburbs,
and swallowing up green field after green field, and the builders go on raising houses where
the market-gardeners a short time ago raised cabbages instead—^the Metropolis throwing out
its many fibres of streets Hke the thousand roots of an old tree stretching far into the soü ;
so that it is evident that though the late Burial Acts pretended to mark out the limits of the
Capital in 1852, stiU, in another decenniad another Act will have to be passed, incorporating other
hamlets with the town ; even as the Old Bills of Mortality, which were issued by the Company
of Parish Clerks in 1603, were forced in a few years after the date to add St. Gües in the
Fields and ClerkenweU to the metropolitan circle, and at the end of the century to include also
the villages of Hackney, and Islington, and Newington, and Eotherhithe ; whilst the New Bills
have since encompassed the hamlets of Kensington, and Paddington, and Hammersmith, and
Fulham, and CamberweU, and "Wandsworth, and Deptford, and Greenwich, and Plumstead,
and Lewisham, and Hampstead ; until at length the Capital has been made to consist, not only
of some score of Wicks, and Townships, and Precincts, and Liberties, but to comprise the two
great boroughs of Southwark and Greenwich, as well as the Episcopal Cities of Westminster
and London proper. Indeed, the monster Metropolis now comprehends, within its par¬
liamentary boundaries, what once constituted the territories of four Saxon Commonwealths—
the kingdom of the Middle Saxons, East Saxons, the South Kick, and the Kentwaras.
Now as regards the actual size of this enormous city, it may be said that its area is
considerably more than twice the dimensions of the island of St. Helena, and very nearly
double that of Jersey—^being not quite so large as Elba, but nearly one-half the superficial
extent of Madeira. Not only does it stretch into the three counties of Middlesex, Surrey,
and Kent, but the length of that portion of the Thames which traverses the Metropolis—and
divides the river, as it winds along, into two great metropolitan provinces as it were—measures
no less than twenty miles from Hammersmith to Woolwich ; whilst in its course the river
receives the waters of the navigable Eoding and Lea on the one side, and the Ravensboume
and Wandle on the other, together with many other minor streams that are now buried
under the houses, and made to do the duty of sewers, though they were, at one time, of
sufficient capacity to be the scenes of naval battles, f
♦ The above statement is proved thus :—
2,362,236 = Population of London in 1861. 84,944 = Births in London, in 1855.
1,948,417 = „ „ 1841. 61,506 = Deaths „ „
413,819 = Increase of Population in 10 years. 23,438 = Annual excess of Births over Deaths.
17,943 = Annual Immigration.
41,381*9 = Anniml increase. ——
41,385* = Annual Increase.
+ " Anciently," says Stowe, " until the Conqueror's time, and two hundred years afterwards, the city of
London was watered—besides the famous river of Thames, on the south—with the river of Wells, as it was
14
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDON.
From east to west, London stretches from Bow to Hammersmith on the Middlesex
side of the river, and from Plumstead to Wandsworth on the Surrey side, and there is nearly
one continuous street of houses joining these extreme points, and measuring about fourteen
miles in length ; whilst the line of buildings runniog north and south, and reaching from
HoUoway to Camberwell, is said to be upwards of twelve miles long.
If, however, we estimate only the solid mass of houses in the centre, where the tenements
are packed almost back to back, and nearly as close as the bales of cotton in the hold of a
merchant ship, the area so occupied is found po be larger, even, than the Island of Guernsey.*
Again, an enumeration of the gross amount of buildings which make up the dense crowd
of houses in London is quite as useless, for aU imaginative purposes, as is the specification of
the number of statute acres comprised within its area, for helping us to conceive its size.
A statement, on the contrary, of the mere length of the line that the buildings would form if
joined all together in one continuous row, will give us a far better idea of the gross extent of
the whole. This is easily arrived at by assuming each of the tenements to have an average
frontage of fifteen feet in width ; and thus we find that the entire length of the buildings
throughout London amounts to near upon one thousand miles, so that if they were all ranged
in a Une, they would form one continuous street, long enough to reach across the whole of
England and France, from York to the Pyrenees !
If, then, such be the mere length of the aggregate houses in London, it may be readily
conceived that the streets of the MetropoUs—which, on looking at the map, seem to be a
perfect maze of bricks and mortar—should be some thousands in number ; and, accordmgly, it
appears that there are upwards of 10,500 distinct streets, squares, circuses, crescents,
terraces, villas, rows, buildings, places, lanes, courts, alleys, mews, yards, rents, &c.
particularized in that huge civic encyclopaedia, the London Post-Office Directory.
Many of these thoroughfares, too, are of no inconsiderable dimensions. Oxford Street alone
is more than one mile and a third long, and Regent Street, from Langham Church to Carlton
Terrace, measures nearly one müe in length ; whilst the two great lines of thoroughfare
parallel to the river, the one extending along Oxford Street, Holborn, Cheapside, Comhill, and
Whitechapel to Mile-end, and which is really but one street with different names, and the
other stretching from Knightsbridge along Piccadilly, the Haymarket, PaU Mall East, the
Strand, Fleet Street, Cannon Street, Tower Street, and so on by Ratcliffe Highway to the
"West India Docks—are each above six miles from one end to the other.
then called (but Fleete dike afterwards — "because it 'runnetb past the Fleete," he adds in another
place) on the west ; with the water called Wallbrooke running through the midst of the city into the river
of Thames, serving the heart thereof ; and with a fourth water or bourne, which ran within the city through
Langboume ward, watering that part in the east. In the west suburbs was also another great water called
Oldbome, which had its fall into the river of Wells." * • • • Moreover, " in a fair book of Parliament
records now lately restored to the Tower," he adds, " it appears that a Parliament being holden at Carlisle in
the year 1307 (the 35th of Edward I.), Henry Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, complained that whereas in times
past the course of water running at London under Oldbome bridge and Fleete bridge into the Thames, had
been of such breadth and depth that ten or twelve ships navies at once, with merchandise, were wont to come to
the aforesaid bridge of Fleete and some of them to Oldlorne bridge ; now the same course, by filth of the
tanners and such others, is sore decayed ; also by raising of wharfs ; but especially by a diversion of water
made by them of the new Temple, in the first year of King John, for their mills, standing without Baynard's
Castle, and divers other impediments, so that the said ships cannot enter as they were wont, and as they
ought." ♦ • • • Further, we are told by the same historikn, that " in the year 1602, the seventh of
Henry VII., the whole course of the Fleete dike (then so called) was scowered down to the Thames, so that
boats with fish and fuel were rowed to the Fleete bridge and to Oldbome bridge, as they of old time had
been accustomed, which was a great commodity to aU the inhabitants in that part of the city."—Stowe's
Survey (Thoms' Edition), pp. 6, 6.
• lie comparative density of the buildings in the different parts of London may be indicated by the fact,
that in the heart of the city there are upwards of 30 houses to the acre ; whereas in the outlying localities of"
SIZE AIÍD POPULATION OP LONDON.
16
But " if you wish," said Dr. Johnson, "to have a just notion of the magnitude of this
city, you must not be satisfied with seeing its streets and squares, but must survey the
little lanes and courts. It is not," he added, "in the showy evolution of buildings, but
in the multiplicity of human habitations, which are crowded together, that the wonderful
immensity of London consists."
Indeed, the gross extent of the London streets, smaU as well as great, is almost
incredible ; for a return by the Police, in 1850, makes the aggregate length of the metro¬
politan thoroughfares amount to no less that 1750 miles—so that, according to this, the
highways and byeways of tbe Capital must be even longer than the lines of the five principal
London railways—the North Western, Great Western, South Western, Great Northern, and
Eastern Counties—all added on one to another ; or considerably more than three times the
length of the railway from London, vid Calais and Ghent, to Cologne. The cost of form¬
ing this astounding length of paved roadway, I have elsewhere shown to amoimt to no less
than £14,000,000 ; and that not only have these same roadways to be entirely relaid every
five years, but the mere repairs upon them cost upwards of £1,800,000 per annum.
Kensington and Carnberwell, there are but little more than two houses ; and in Hampstead not quite one house
to the same extent of ground—as may be seen by the following
TABLE SHOWTTTG THE ABEA, NTJMBEE OE HOUSES, AJi'D PEOPOETION OF HOUSES TO EACH ACEE
IN LONDON, 1851.
Districts.
Area in
Statute Aerea.
Total Numb er
of Houses.
Number of
Houses to the
Acre.
Districts.
Area in
Statute Acres.
Total Number
of Houses.
Number of
Houses to the
Acre.
west districts.
east districts.
Kensington
Chelsea . , .
St. George, Hanover Square
Westminster .
St. Martin-in-the-Fields
St. James, Westminster
7374
86.5
1161
917
305
164
19,082
7,953
9,404
6,978
2,465
3,633
2-5
91
8 0
7-6
8-0
22*1
Shoreditch
Bethnal Green
Whitechapel .
St. George-in-the-East
Stepney ....
Poplar ....
646
760
406
243
1,257
2,918
16,182
13,819
9,161
6,351
17,348
7,283
250
18-1
22-5
26-1
13-8
2-4
Total West Districts
10,786
49,515
4-6
Total, East Districts
6,230
70,144
11-2
north districts.
south districts.
Marylehone .
Hampstead
Paneras ....
Islington
Hackney ....
1,509
2,252
2,716
3,127
3,929
16,448
1,822
19,698
14,736
10,517
10-9
0-8
7-2
4-7
2-6
St. Saviour, Southwark.
St. Olave
Bermondsey . . .
St. George, Southwark .
Newington
Lambeth
Wandsworth .
Camberwell
Eotherhithe
Greenwich
Lewisham
250
169
688
282
624
4,015
11,695
4,342
886
5,367
17,224
4,856
2,436
7,466
7,513
11,205
21,759
9,163
10,572
3,058
15,801
6,624
19-4
14-4
10-8
26-6,
17-9
Total North Districts
central districts.
St. Giles
Strand ....
13,533
245
174
63,221
4,996
4,210
4,519
7,549
6,616
4,945
2,850
8,373
4-6
20'3
24-1
5'4
0-7
2-4
3-4
2-9
0-3
Holbom
Clerkenwell .
St. Luke
East London .
West London .
London City .
196
380
220
153
136
434
23-0
19-8
300
32'3
20-9
19-2
Total, South Districts
45,542
100,453
2-2
Total, Central Districts
1,938
44,058
22-7
Total for all London
78,029
327,391
41
16
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDON.
Of the enormous mass of human beings comprised in the London population, it is even more
difficult to have an adequate conception, than to realize to our minds the gross number of its
houses and length of its streets. One way, however, in which we may arrive at a vague idea
of the dense human multitude is, by comparing the number of people resident in the Metropolis
with those that lined the thoroughfares on the day of the Duke of Wellington's funeral; and
judging by the extent of the crowd collected on that occasion, as to the probable dimensions of the
mob that would be formed were the people of London to be all gathered together into one body.
It was calculated on that occasion that there were a million and a half of people in the
streets to witness the procession, and that these covered the pathways aU along the line of
route for a distance of three miles. Hence it follows, that were the whole of the metro¬
politan population ever to be congregated in the streets at one and the same time, they
would form a dense mass of human beings near upon five miles long.
Or, to put the matter stUl more forcibly before the mind, we may say, that if the entire
people of the Capital were to be drawn up in marching order, two and two, the length of the
great army of Londoners would be no less than 670 miles ; and, supposing them to move at
the rate of three miles an hour, it would require more than nine days and nights for the
aggregate population to pass by !*
• The distribution and relative density of the population throughout London is numerically as follows :—
TABLE SHOWING THE DISTBIBTJTION AND pENSITT OF THE POPHLATIOH OF lONBGN IN 1851.
Disteicts.
Area in
Statute Acres.
1 Males.
Females.
i
1
Total
of Persons.
dumber or
Persons to
Acre.
Disteicts.
1
Area in
Statute Acres
Males.
Females.
Total
of Persons.
= 2
u S
£1 C L.
5 M <
C o
West Disticts.
East Districts.
Kensington
Chelsea
St. George, Hanover
Square .
Westminster
St. Martin-in-the-
Fielils
St. James, Westmin¬
ster . . . .
7,374
865
1,161
917
305
49,949
25,475
31,920
32,494
11,918
70,055
31,063
41,310
33,115
12,722
120,004
565,38
73,230
65,609
24,640
16-2
65-4
63-0
71-5
80-8
Shoreditch .
Bethnal Green .
Whitechapel
St. George-in-the-
East
Stepney
Poplar
646
760
406
243
1,257
2,918
52,087
44,081
40,271
23,496
52,342
23,902
57,170
46,112
39,488
24,880
58,433
23,260
109,257
90,193
79,759
48,376
110,777
47,162
169-1
118-6
196-4
199-0
88-1
16-1
164
17,377
19,029
36,406
215-9
Total, East Districts
6.230
236,179
249,343
485,522
77-9
Total, West Districts
10,786
169,133
207,294
376,427
34-9
South Districts.
North Districts.
Mar.vlebone
Ham patead
Paneras . - ' .
Islington .
Hackney .
1,509
2,252
2,716
3,127
8,929
69,115
4,960
76,144
42,702
25,083
88,581
7,026
90,812
52,567
33,346
157,696
11,986
166,956
95,329
58,429
104-5
5-3
61-4
30-4
14-8
St. Saviour, South-
wark
St. Olave, ditto .
Bermondsey
St. George, South-
wark
Newington
250
169
688
282
624
4,015
11,695
4,342
886
5,367
17,224
17,432
9,660
•23,511
25,374
30,255
63,673
23,011
23,574
9,127
50,639
15,708
18,299
9,715
24,617
26,450
34,561
75,652
27,753
31,093
8,678
48,726
19,127
35,731
19,375
48,128
51,824
64,816
139,325
50,764
54,667
17.805
99,365
34,835
142-9
114-6
69-9
208-5
103-8
34-7
Total, North Districts
Central Districts.
St. Giles .
Strand
Holbom
Clerkenwell
St. Luke .
East London
West London
London City
13,533
245
174
19«
380
220
153
136
434
218,064
25,832
21,570
22,860
31,489
26,178
21,536
14,604
27,149
272,332
28,382
22,890
23,761
33,289
27,877
22,870
14,186
28,783
490,396
54,214
44,460
46,621
64,778
54,055
44,406
28,790
55,932
36-2
221-2
255-5
237-8
170-4
245-7
-290-2
211-6
128-8
Wandsworth
Camberwell
Kotherhithe
Greenwich
Lewisham .
4-3
12-5
20-0
18-5
2-0
Total, South Districts
45,542
291,964
324,671
616,635
11-3
jTotal, Central Districts
1,938
191,218
202,038
393,25b
202-9
Total, for all London
78,029
1,106,558
1,255,678
2,362,230
30-2
But a better idea of the comparative density of the population in the several districts of London, will
be obtained by reference to the subjoined engraving.
PERSONS TO SQUARE ACRE.
J.
East London .
290-2
19.
Stepney ....
88-1
2.
Strand
255-5
20.
St. Martin-in-tlie-Tields .
80 8
3.
St. Lnke
245 7
21.
Westminster
7i -5
4.
Holb'irn
237-8
22.
Bei mondsey
69-9
rt.
St. Gilíes . . .
221 2
23.
Chelt-ea ....
65-4
6.
St. James, Westminster .
215-9
24.
SL George. Hanover Square
63-0
7.
N\'e8t Ixindon .
211-6
25.
Panora.s .
69 4
8.
St. George, Soulhwark
208 5
199-0
26.
Lambeth ....
34-7
30-4
9.
St. George in the East
27.
Islington.
10.
Whitecbapel .
196-4
28.
Rotlieibiibe
2U-0
11.
Clerkenwoll .
170-4
29.
Ken.tmgton
16 2
12.
Shoreilitch
169-1
30.
poplar ....
16 1
13.
St. Saviour, Southwark .
142-9
31.
llaokney .
14-8
14.
London, Uity .
128-8
32.
Carat>erwell
12 5
15.
Bethnal Green
118-6
83.
Greenwich
6-4
16.
St. Olave, South« ark
114 6
34.
Han-iiistead
5 3
17.
Marylebone
1< 4-.5
3.5.
Wandsworth .
4 6
8.
Newiuglou
l'}3-8
36.
LewLsham
2-0
vP
MAP ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE DISTRIBUTION AND DENSITY OF THE POPULATION OF LONDON IN 1851.
■ (The blackest portions indicate the quarters which are the most thickly peopled ! and, on the contrary, the lightest portions those in which the population is the thinnest.)
18
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
Further, to put the matter even more lucidly before the mind, we may say that no less
than 169 people die each day in the Metropolis, and that a babe is bom within its boundaries
nearly every five minutes throughout the year ! *
" Considered in connection with the insular position of England in that great highway of
nations, the Atlantic," says Sir John Herschel, " it is a fact not a little explanatory of the
commercial eminence of our country, that London occwpies very nearly the centre of the terres¬
trial hemisphere."
But whether the merchant fame of Great Britain be due to its geographical good luck,
or to that curious commingling of races, which has filled an Englishman's veins with the blood
of the noblest tribes belonging to the multiform family of mankind—the Celtic, the Roman,
the Saxon, the Scandinavian, and Norman—so that an Englishman is, as it were, an ethno¬
logical compound of a Welshman, an Italian, a German, Dane, and Frenchman—to whichever
cause the result be due, it is certain that all people regard the British Capital as the largest
and busiest human hive in the world.
The mere name, indeed, of London calls up in the mind—^not only of Londoners, but of
country folk and foreigners as well—a thousand varied trains of thought. Perhaps the first
idea that rises in association with it is, that it is at once the biggest bazaar and the richest
bank throughout the globe.
Some persons, turning to the west, regard London as a city of palatial thoroughfares,
and princely club-houses and mansions, and adorned with parks, and bristling with countless
steeples, and crowded with stately asylums for the indigent and afflicted.
Others, mindful but of the City, see, principally, narrow lanes and musty counting-
houses, and tail factory chimneys, darkening (tiU lately) the air with their black clouds of
smoke ; and huge blocks of warehouses, with doors and cranes at every floor ; and docks
crowded with shipping, and choked with goods ; and streets whose traffic is positively deaf¬
ening in the stranger's ear ; and bridges and broad thoroughfares blocked with the dense inass
of passing vehicles.
Others, again, looking to the east, and to the purlieus of the town, are struck with the
appalling wretchedness of the people, taking special notice of the haK-naked, shoeless
children that are usually seen gamboling up our courts, and the capless, shaggy-headed
women that loll about the alleys or lanes, with their bruised, discoloured features, telling of
some recent violence ; or else they are impressed with the sight of the drunken, half-starved
mobs collected round the glittering bar of some palatial gin-shop, with the foul-mouthed
mothers there drugging their infants with the drink.
In fine, this same London is a strange, incongruous chaos of the most astounding riches
and prodigious poverty—of feverish ambition and apathetic despair—of the brightest charity
and the darkest crime ; the great focus of human emotion—the scene, as we have said, of
countless daily struggles, failures, and successes ; where the very best and the very worst
• The returns of the Eegistrar-Qeneral as to the number of births and deaths occurring in London duiing
the year 1855, are as follows :—
§ 4.
LONDON PROM DIFFERENT POINTS OF VIEW.
1855.—Births, Males
Females
1855.—Deaths, Males .
Females
. 43,352
. 41,592
. 37,203
. 30,303
I Total, 84,944.
I Total, 61,506.
LOÎTDON FROM DIFFERENT POINTS ÖF VIEW.
19
types of civilized society are foxind to prevail—where there are more houses and more house¬
less—^more feasting and more starvation—^more philanthropy and more bitter stony-hearted-
ness, than on any other spot in the world—and atl grouped around the one giant centre,
whose huge dark dome, with its glittering ball of gold, is seen in every direction, looming
through the smoke, and marking out the Capital, no matter from what quarter the traveller
may come.
" I have often amused myself," says Dr. Johnson, " with thinking how different a place
London is to different people. They whose narrow minds are contracted to the considera¬
tion of some one particular pursuit, view it only through that medium. A politician
thinks of it only as the seat of government in its different departments ; a grazier, as a vast
market for cattle ; a mercantile man, as a place where a prodigious deal of business is done
upon'Change; a dramatic enthusiast, as the grand scene of theatrical entertainments; a
man of pleasure, as an assemblage of taverns. • » • * • intellectual man is
struck with it as comprehending the whole of human life in its variety, the contemplation of
which is inexhaustible."
Of the first impressions of London, those who drew their infant breath within its smoky
atmosphere are, of course, utterly unconscious ; and, perhaps, there is no class of people who
have so dull a sense of the peculiarities of the great town in which they live, and none who
have so little attachment to their native place as Londoners themselves.
The Swiss, it is well known, have almost a woman's love for the mountains amid
which "they were reared ; indeed so fervent is the affection of the Helvetian for his native
hills, that it was found necessary to prohibit the playing of the "Ranz des Vaches," in the
Swiss regiments of the French army, owing to the number of desertions it occasioned. The
German, too, in other lands, soon becomes afiSicted with, what in the language of the country
is termed, "Seimwéh"—that peculiar settled melancholy and bodily as well as mental
depression which results from a continual craving to return to his " fatherland."
Indeed, though the people of almost every other place throughout the globe have, more
or less, a strong attachment for the land of their birth, your old-established Londoner is so
little remarkable for the quality, that it becomes positively absurd to think of one bom
within the sound of Bow-hells displaying the least regard for his native paving-stones. For
whilst the scion of other parts yeams to get back to the haunts of his childhood, the
Londoner is beset with an incessant desire to be off from those of hû. All the year through
he looks forward to his week's or month's autumnal holiday abroad, or down at one of the
fashionable English watering-places ; and even when he has amassed sufficient means to
render him independent of the Metropolis, he seldom or never can bring himself to end his
days in some suburban "Paradise Place," or "Prospect Row," that is "within half an
hour's ride of the Bank»" and (as inviting landladies love to add) " with omnibuses passing
the door every five minutes." But he retires, on the contrary, to one of the pleasant and
secluded nooks of England, or else to some economical little foreign town, where he can
realize the pleasures of cheap claret or hock, and avoid the income-tax. Hence it has come
to be a saying among metropolitan, genealogists, that London families seldom continue settled
in the Capital for three generations together—there being but few persons biun and bred in
the Metropolis whose great-grandfather was native to the place.
Formerly, in the old coaching days, the entrance into London was a sight that no country
in the world could parallel, and one of which the first impression was well calculated to
astound the foreigner, who had been accustomed in his own coimtry to travel along roads
that were about as loose in the soil and as furrowed with rats as ploughed fields, and in
mails, too, that were a kind of cross between a fly-wagon and an omnibus, and not nearly so
rapid as hearses when returning from a funeral, and with the horses harnessed to the
20
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
unsightly vehicle with traces of rope, and a huge-booted driver continuaUy shouting and
swearing at the team.
The entry into the MetropoEs, on the contrary, was over a rôadway that was positively
as hard as steel and as level as water, and upon which the patter of the horses hoofs rang
with an almost metallic sound. Then the coachman was often an English gentleman, and
even in some cases a person of rank,* whilst the vehicle itself was a very model of lightness
and elegance. The horses, too, were such thorough-bred animals as England alone could
produce, and their entire leathern trappings as brightly polished as a dandy's boots.
In those days, even London people themselves were so delighted with the sight of the
mails and fast coaches leaving the Metropolis at night, that there was a large crowd
invariably congregated around the Angel at Islington, the White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly,
and the Elephant and Castle across the water, at eight every evening, to see the royal stages
start into the coimtry by their different routes. On the King's birthday, too, the scene at
those inns was assuredly as picturesque as it was entirely national. The exterior of the
taverns was studded over with lights of many colours, arranged in tasty luminous lines, the
sleek-coated blood horses were all newly harnessed, and the bright brass ornaments on their
trappings glittered again in the glare of the ihumination. The coachmen and guards were
in, unsuUied scarlet coats worn for the first time that day ; and there were gay rosettes of
ribbon and bunches of flowers at each of the horse's heads as well as in each coachman's
button-hole ; while the freshly-painted mails were packed so thickly in front of the tavem-
door, that the teams were all of a heap there ; and the air kept on continuaLly resounding
with the tinny twang of the post horns of the newly arriving or departing vehicles.
^ i. The Entry into London hy " Mail."
We are not among those who regret the change in the mode of travelling, and we allude to
the old mail-coaches here simply as having been especially characteristic of the country and
the Capital. Now that all the world, however, travels by rail, there is butRttle peculiar in
the style by which the entry into London is made, to impress the mind of strangers. Never¬
theless, as the trains dart through the different suburbs, the eye must he duU indeed that
is not struck with the strange sights seen by the way, even though the journey be performed
among the house-tops of the metropolitan outskirts.
What an odd notion the stranger must acquire of the Metropolis, as he enters it by the
South-Western Railway ! How curious is the flash of the passing VauxhaU Gardens,
dreary with their big black trees, and the huge theatrical-looking summer-house, built for
the orchestra and half-tumbling to decay ; and the momentary glimpse of the Tartarus-like
gas-works, with their tall minaret chimneys, and the red mouth of some open retort th,ere
glowing like the crater of a burning volcano ; and the sudden whisking by of the Lambeth
potteries, with their show of sample chimney-pots, and earthen pans, and tubing, ranged
along the walls ; and, the minute afterwards, the glance at the black rack-like sheds, spotted
aU over with the snowy ends of lumpä" of whiting, thrust at intervals through the aper¬
tures ; and then the sickening stench of the bone-boilers, leaking in through every crevice
of the carriage ; and the dreary-looking attics of the houses as the roofs fly past ; and, lastly,
• Aristocracy patronized the coach-box as drivers of stages. Sir Vincent Cotton drove the " Age,"
Brighton coach; Mr. Willan, the "Magnet;"' Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt Jones, the "Pearl;" Mr. Bliss, the
» Mazeppa ;" and Captain Probin, the " Beading ;" all being renowned for their whips and fast coaches, and
doing their lOj and 11 miles per hour. There were also the " Hirondelle," which ran between Cheltenham
and Liverpool, 133 miles in 12J hours ; the " Owen Qlendower," between Birmingham and Aherystwith, a
very hilly country, at the rate of lOi miles per hour ; two coaches, the " Phenomenon" and the " Blue," ran
between London and Norwich at a rate of 12 miles per hour, doing 112 miles in 9 J hours; the "Quicksilver"
and the " Shrewsbury "Wonder" were likewise famous fast coaches; and the "Manchester Telegraph" ran
13 miles per hour, including stoppages. Publie Carriaget of Oreat Britain.—By J. E. Bradfield.
LONDON FEOM DIFFERENT POINTS OF VIEW.
21
while the train stops for the collection of the tickets on the high viaduct over the Westminster
Bridge Road, the protracted peep down into the broad street above which the carriages
rest, and the odd bird's-eye view of the huge linendrapers' shop there, with the diminutive-
looking people, and cabs, and carts, hurrying along deep down in the roadway under the
train !
Or, if the visitor enter London by the South-Eastem line, coming from Dover, or
Brighton, the scene is equally distinctive. No sooner does the train near London than
the huge glass temple of the Crystal Palace appears glittering in the Hght, like so much ice-
work. Then stations rush rapidly by, tahleted all over with showy advertising hoards and
hüls announcing cheap clothing, or cheap tea, or bedding, or stationery, or razors, and the
huge letters seeming to he smudged one into the other by the speed. Then as the knot of
neighbouring lines draw together Hke so many converging radii, distant trains are seen at all
kinds of levels, flitting across the marshes without the least apparent effort, and with a cloud
of white steam puffing fitfully from the chimney of the engine at the head, while the little
wheels of the carriages are observed to twinkle again with their rapid twirling. In a minute
or two the train turns the angle of the line, and then through what a hricken wilderness of
roofs it seems to be ploughing its way, and how odd the people look, as they slide swiftly by,
in-their wretched garrets ! Next, a smeU of tan pervades the air ; and there are glimpses
of brown hides hanging in sheds below. Now, the church of St. John, Horsleydown, shoots
by with the strange stone pillar stuck on the top of it, in lieu of a steeple ; and immediately
afterwards the tangle of railway lines becomes more and more intricate, the closer the train
draws to the terminus, tül at length the earth appears to be ribbed over with the iron bars in
every direction, and the lines to be in such confusion that it seems a iniracle how the engine
can find its way among the many fibres of the iron web.
Nor, if the visitor come by the London and North "Western line from Liverpool or the
great manufacturing districts, are the sights less striking ; for here the train plunges with a
loud shriek into the long, dark perforation under Primrose Hül, and when it shoots into the
light again, the green banks are seen studded with little viUas, ranged two and two beside
th® road. Then, as the carriages stop outside the engine-house for the coUection of the
tickets, what a hurry-skurry and riot there appears to be among the passing locomotives !
Here one engine pants and gasps, as it begins to move, as if it were positively overcome with
the exertion, and when the wheels refuse to bite upon the rail, it seems to chuckle again
half-savagely at its own failure, as they slip round and round. Another goes tearing by, its
shrill whistle screeching Hke a mad human thing the while, and men shoot out of Httle
sentry-boxes, and shoulder, with á nûHtary air, fuxled-up flags. In a minute or two
afterwards the train moves on once more, and the carriages go rattling along the bed, as it were,
of some dried-up canal, with Httle cottage mansions perched on the top of the sl-gnting railway
wall, and great iron girders over-head, stretching across the hricken channel HVp the rafters
of a loft.
But the most pecuHar and distinctive of all the entries to the Great MetropoHs is the
one by the river ; for, assuredly, there is no scene that impresses the mind with so lively a
sense of the wealth and commercial energy of the British Capital as the view of the far-famed
Port of London.
•jj Ü. The Port of London.
Seen from the Custom House, this is indeed a characteristic sight ; and some timp. since
we were permitted, by the courtesy of the authorities, to witness the view from the "long
room" there.
The broad highway of the river—which at this part is near upon 300 yards in width-
was almost blocked with the tiers of shipping ; for there was merely a narrow pathway of
grey, glittering water left open in the middle ; and, on either side, the river was blaià with
22
THE GEEAT "WORLD OF LONDON.
the dense mass of hulls collected alongside the quays ; while the masts of the craft were as
thick as the pine stems in their native forests.
The sun shone bright upon the water, and as its broken beams played upon the surface
it sparkled and twinkled in the light, Hko a crumpled plate of golden foil ; and, down the
" silent highway," barges, tide-horne, floated sideways, with their long slim oars projecting
from their sides like the flns of a flying fish; whilst others went along, with their masts
slanting down and their windlass clicking as men laboured to raise the " warm-brown " sail
that they had lowered to pass imder the bridge. Then came a raft of timber, towed by a small
boat, and the boatman leaning far back in it as he tugged at the sculls ; and presently a rapid
river steamer flitted past, the deck crowded so densely with passengers that it reminded one
of a cushion stuck aU over with black pins ; and as it hurried past we caught a whiff, as it
were, of music from the little band on board.
The large square blocks of warehouses on the opposite shore were almost hidden in the
shadow which came slanting down far into the river, and covering, as with a thick veil of
haze, the confused knot of sloops and schooners and " bilanders" that lay there in the dusk,
in front of the wharves. Over the tops of the warehouses we could see the trail of white
steam, from the railway engines at the neighbouring terminus, darting from among the roofs
as they hurried to and fro.
A little way down the river, stood a clump of Irish vessels, with the light peeping
through the thicket, as it were, of their masts—some with their sails hanging all loose
and limp, and others with them looped in rude festoons to the yards. Beside these lay
barges stowed full of barrels of beer and sacks of flour ; and a few yards farther on, a huge
foreign steamer appeared, with short thick black funnel and blue paddle-boxes. Then came
hoys laden with straw and coasting goods, and sunk so deep in the water that, as the
steamers dashed by, the white spray was seen to beat against the dark tarpaulins that
covered their heaped-up cargoes. Next to these the black, surly-looking colliers were noted,
huddled in a dense mass together, with the bare backs of the coalwhippers flashing among
the rigging as, in hoisting the ""Wallsend" from the hold, they leaped at intervals down
upon the deck.
Behind, and through the tangled skeins of the rigging, the eye rested upon the old
Suffrance wharves, with their peaked roofs and unwieldy cranes ; and far at the back we
caught sight of one solitary tree ; whilst in the fog of the extreme distance the steeple of St.
Mary's, Eotherhithe, loomed over the mast-heads—grey, dim, and spectral-Uke.
Then, as we turned round and Iboked towards the bridge, we caught glimpses of barges
and boats moving in the broad arcs of light showing through the arches ; while above the
bridge-parapet were seen just the tops of moving carts, and omnibuses, and high-loaded
railway wagons, hurrying along in opposite directions.
Glancing thence to the bridge-wharves on the same side of the river as ourselves, we
beheld bales of goods dangling in the air from the cranes that projected from the top of
" Nicholson's." Here alongside the quay lay Spanish schooners and brigs, laden with fruits ;
and as we cast our eye below, we saw puppet-Kke figures of men with cases of oranges
on their backs, bending beneath the load, on their way across the dumb-lighter to the wharf.
Next came Billingsgate, and here we could see the white,bellies of the fish showing in the
market beneath, and streams of men passing backwards and forwards to the river side, where
lay a small crowd of Dutch eel boats, with their gutta-percha-Hke hulls, and unwieldy,
green-tipped rudders. Immediately beneath us was the brown, gravelled walk of the
Custom House quay, where trim children strolled with their nursemaids, and haÜess and
yellow-legged Blue-coat Boys, and there were youths fresh from school, who had come
either to have a peep at the shipping, or to skip and play among the barges.
From the neighhouring stairs boats pushed off continually, while men standing in the
stem wriggled themselves along by working a scull behind, after the fashion of a fish's tail.
LONDON PEOM DIEFEEENT POINTS OF VIEW.
2a
Here, near the front of the quay, lay a tier of huge steamers with gilt sterns and
mahogany wheels, and their bright brass binnaeles shining as if on fire in the sun. At the
foremast head of one of these the "blue Peter" was fiying as a summons to the hands on
shore to come aboard, while the dense clouds of smoke that poured from the thick red funnel
told that the boiler fires were ready lighted for starting.
Further on, might be seen the old " Perseus," the receiving-ship of the navy, with her
topmasts down, her black sides towering high, like immense rampart-walls, out of the water,
and her long white ventilating sacks hanging over the hatchways. Immediately beyond
this, the eye could trace the Tower wharves, with their gravelled walks, and the high-
capped and red-coated sentry pacing up and down them, and the square old grey lump
of the Tower, with a turret at each of. its four corners, peering over the water. In
front of this lay another dense crowd of foreign vessels, and with huge lighters beside the
wharf, while bales of hemp and crates of hardware swung from the cranes as they were
lowered into the craft below.
In the distance towered the huge 'massive warehouses of St. Katherine's Dock, with
their big signet letters on their sides, their many prison-like windows, and their cranes
and doors to every fioor. Beyond this, the view was barred out by the dense grove of
masts that rose np from the water, thick as giant reeds beside the shore, and filmed
over with the gray mist of vapour rising from the river so that their softened outlines
melted gently into the dusk.
As we stood looking down upon the river, the hundred clocks of the hundred churches
at our back, with the golden figures on their black dials shining in the sun, chimed the hour
of noon, and in a hundred different tones ; while solemnly above all boomed forth the deep
metallic moan of St. Paul's ; and scarcely had the great beU ceased humming in the air,
before there rose the sharp tinkling of eight beUs from the decks of the multitude of sailing
vessels and steamers packed below.
Indeed, there was an exquisite charm in the many different sounds that smote the ear
from the busy Port of London. Now we could hear the ringing of the " purlman's" bell,
as, in his Kttle boat, he fiitted in and out among the several tiers of colliers to serve the
grimy and half-naked coalwhippers with drink. Then would come the rattle of some heavy
chain suddenly let go, and after this the chorus of many séamen heaving at the ropes ; whilst
high above aU roared the hoarse voice of some one on the shore, bawling through his hands
to a mate aboard the craft. Presently came the clicking of the capstan-palls, telling of
the heaving of a neighboiiring anchor; and mingling with all this might be heard the
rumbling of the wagons and carts in the streets behind, and the panting and throbbing of
the passing river steamers in front, together with the shrill scream of the railway whistle
from the terminus on the opposite shore.
In fine, look or listen in whatever direction we might, the many sights and soimds that
filled the eye and ear told each its different tale of busy trade, bold enterprise, and bound¬
less capital. In the many bright-coloured fiags that fiuttered from the mastheads of the
vessels crowding the port, we could read how all the corners of the earth had been ransacked
each for its peculiar produce. The massive warehouses at the water-side looked realiy likp
the storehouses of the world's infinite products, and the tall mast-like factory chimneys
behind us, -with their black plumes of smoke streaming from them, told us how all around
that port were hard at work fashioning the products into cunning fabrics.
Then, as we beheld the white clouds of steam from some passing railway engine puffed
out once more from among the opposite roofs, and heard the clatter of the thousand vehicles
in the streets hard by, and watched the dark tide of carts and wagons pouring over the
bridge, and looked down the apparently endless vista of masts that crowded either side of
the river—we could not help feeling how every power known to man was here used to bring
and difflise the riches of all parts of the world over our own, and indeed every other country.
24
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
^ iii. London from the Top of 8t. Paul's.
Thero is, however, one other grand point of view from which the Metropolis may be
contemplated, and which is not only extremely characteristic of the Capital, but so popular
among strangers, that each new comer generally hastens, as soon as possible after his arrival
in London, to the Golden Gallery to see the giant city spread out at his feet. Hence, this
introduction to the Great World of London would be imcomplete if we omitted öom our
general survey to describe the peculiarities of the scene from that point.
It was an exquisitely bright and clear winter's morning on the day we moimted the five
hundred and odd steps that lead to the gallery below the ball and cross crowning the cathe¬
dral—and yet the view was aU smudgy and smeared with smoke. Still the haze, which bung
like a thick curtain of shadow before and over everything, increased rather than diminished
the monster sublimity of the city stretched out beneath us. It was utterly unlike London
as seen below in its every-day bricken and hard-featured reality, seeming to he the spectral
illusion of the Great Metropolis—such as one might imagine it in a dream—or the view of
some fanciful cloud-land, rather than the most matter-of-fact and prosaic city in the world.
In the extreme distance the faint colourless hiUs, " picked out" with little bright patches
of sunshine, appeared like some far-off shore—or rather as a mirage seen in the sky—^for they
were cut off from the nearer objects by the thick ring of fog that bathed the more distant
buildings in impenetrable dusk. Clumps of houses and snatches of parks loomed here
and there through the vapour, like distant islands rising out of a sea of smoke ; and isolated
patches of palatial hospitals, or public buildings, shone in the accidental lights, as if they
were miniature models sculptured out of white marble.
And yet dim and unsatisfactory as at first the view appeared, one would hardly on reflec¬
tion have had it otherwise; since, to behold the Metropolis without its characteristic canopy
of smoke, but with its thousand steeples standing out against the clear blue sky, sharp and
definite in their outlines, as " cut pieces " in some theatrical scene, is to see London unlike
itself—London, without its native element. Assuredly, as the vast Capital lay beneath us,
half hidden in mist, and with only a glimpse of its greatness visible, it had a much more
BubUme effect from the very inability of the mind to grasp the whole in all its Rteral
details.
Still, there was quite enough visible to teach one that there was no such other city in
the world. Immediately at our feet were the busy streets, like deep fissures in the earth,
or as if the great bricken mass had split and cracked in all directions; and these were
positively black at the bottom with the tiny-looking living crowd of vehicles and people
pouring along the thoroughfares. What a dense dark flood of restless enterprise and
competition it seemed ! ' And there rose to the ear the same roar from it, as rises from
the sea at a distance.
The pavements, directly underneath us, were darkened on either side of the roadway
with dense streams of busy little men, that looked almost like ants, hurrying along in
opposite directions; whilst what with the closely-packed throng of carts, cabs, and omnibuses,
the earth seemed all aUve with tiny creeping things, as when one looks into the grass on a
warm summer's day.
To peep down into the trough of Ludgate Hül was a sight that London alone could show ;
for the tops of the vehicles looked so compact below that they reminded one of the illustra¬
tions of the " testudo," or tortoise-like floor, formed by the up-raised shields of the Roman
soldiers, and on. which, we are told, people might walk. Here were long lines of omnibuses,
BO bigger ^ban children's tin toys, and crowded with pigmies on the roof—and tiny Hansom
cabs, with doU-Hkc drivers perched at the back—and the flat black and shiny roofs of
miniature-like Broughams and private carriages—and brewers' drays, with the round backs
of the stalwart team, looking like plump mice, and with their load of beer hutts appearing
LONDOîf FEOM DIFFEEENï POINTS OF VIEW.
27
no bigger than oyster-barrels—and black looking coal-wagons, that, as yon gazed down
into them, seemed more like coel-loxes—and top-heavy-like railway vans, with their little
bales of cotton piled high in the air—and the wholesale linen-drapers' ugly attempts at
phaetons—and the butchers' carts, with little blue-smocked men in them—^indeed every kind
of London conveyance was there, all jammed into one dense throng, and so compactly, too,
that one might easily have run along the tops of the various vehicles.
Then, how strange it was to watch the Une of conveyances move on, altogether, for
a few paces, as if they were each part of one long railway train ; and then suddenly come,
every one, to a dead halt, as the counter stream of conveyances at the bottom of the hill
was seen to force its way across the road.
As we turned now to note the other points of the surrounding scene, what a forest of
church-steeples was seen to bristle around the huge dome on the top of which we were
standing ! The sight reminded one of the fact, that before the Great Fire there was a church
to every three acres of ground within the City walls ; for there were the spires still ranged
close as nine-pins, and impressing one with a sense that every new street or pubUc building
musfknock a number of them down, as if they really were so many stone skittles j for, as
we peered into the fog of smoke, we could make out others in the misty back-ground, whose
towers seemed suspended, Uke Mahomet's coffin, midway between heaven and earth, as if
poised in the thick gray air ; whilst, amid the steeple crowd, we could distinguish the
tall column of thé Monument, with its golden erown of flames at the top, and surróimded by
a host of factory-chimneys that reminded one of the remaining pillars of the ruined temple
of Serapis ; so that it would have puzzled a simple foreigner to tell whether the City of
London were more remarkable for its manufactures or its piety.
Then, what a charm the mind experienced in recognizing the different places and ohjeets
that it knew tmder a wholly different aspect !
Yonder flows the Thames, circling half round the vast bricken mass that we call
Lamheth and Southwark. It is a perfect arc of water ; and the many bridges spanning it,
like girders, seem to link the opposite shores of London into one Metropolis, Uke the
mysterious ligament that joined the two Siamese into one life. Then there stands the
Exchange, hardly bigger than a twelfth-cake ornament, and with the equestrian statue of
"Wellington, in front of it, smaller than the bronze horse surmounting some library time¬
piece ; and there the Post-office, dwindled down to the dimensions of an architectural model.
That low, square, flat-roofed building is the dumpy little Bank of England ; and that ring
of houses is Finsbury Circus ; it looks from the elevation like the bricken mouth of a
well.
This, we mentally exclaim, as we continue our walk round the gallery, is the Old Bailey,
with the big cowl to its roof; and close beside it are the high and spiked walls of Newgate
prison ; we can see half down into the exercising wards of the felons from where we stand.
And this open space is Smithfield. How desolate it looks now, stript of its market, and with
its empty sheep-pens, that seem from the height to cover the ground Ukf» a grating ! The
dingy domed, sohtary buûding beyond it, that appears, up here, like a " round-house," is the
Sessions House, Clerkenwell ; and t^e, amidst the haze, we can just distinguish another
dome, almost the fellow of the one we are standing upon ; it's the London University.
Next, glancing towards the river once more, we see, where the mist has cleared a bit, the
shadowy form of the Houses of Parliament, with their half-flnished towers; from the distance
it has the appearance of some tiny Parian toy. But the Nelson and the York Columns are
lost to us in the haze ; so, too, is the Palace ; and yet we can see the TTillg of Highgate and
Surrey ; ay, and even the Crystal Palace, shimmering yonder like a bubble in the light.
So dense, however, is the paU of smoke about the City, that beyond London Bridge
nothing is to be traced—neither the Tower, nor the Docks, nor the India House—and the
ou^es even of the neighbouring streets and turrets are blurred with the thick haze of
28
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDON.
the fumes, into half-spectral indistinctness. Though, were it otherwise, it would not, we
repeat, he a true picture of London.
§ 5
THE CONTRASTS OF LONDON.
It will, doubtlessly, have been noticed that, in speaking of London generally, it has been
our wont here to use certain antithetical phrases, such as " wealth and want," " charity and
crime," " palaces and workhouses," &c. It must not, however, he supposed that we have
done this as a mere rhetorical flourish, for none can object to such piebald painting moro
than we. The mind's eye must be dim, indeed, that requires things to be put in the strong
contrast of black and white before it can distinguish their peculiarities ; and as the educated
organ of the artist gets to prefer the sober browns and delicate neutral tints to the glare of
positive colour, so long literary culture teaches one to despise those mere verbal trickeries which
are termed " flowers of speech," and in which a showy arrangement of phrases is used as a
cloak for a beggarly array of ideas.
But London is essentially a city of antithesis—a city where life itself is painted in pure
black and white, and where the very extremes of society are seen in greater force than any¬
where else. This constitutes, as it were, the topographical essence of the Great Metropolis—
the salient point of its character as a Capital—the distinctive mark which isolates it from aR
other towns and cities in the world ; for though the middle class and the medium forms of
civilized life prevail in the Metropolis to an unparalleled extent, this does not constitute its civic
idiosyncracy ; but it is simply the immensity of the commerce which springs from this same
vmpwrallelei prevalence of merchant people in London, and the consequent vastness of its
wealth, as weU as the unprecedented multitude of individuals attracted by such wealth to
the spot, that forms the most prominent feature in every one's ideal picture of the town.
Then, again, it is owing partly to the excessive riches of London that its poverty appeal's
to he in excess also—not that there really is, perhaps, a greater proportion of misery to be
found within the metropolitan boundaries than within other large cities; but as London is the
largest of aU cities, there is naturaRy the greatest amount of human wretchedness to be seen
concentrated within it ; wretchedness, too, that is made to look stfll more wretched simply
from the fact of its being associated with the most abundant comfort in the world.
Moreover, from the immense mass of houses, the mind is positively startled at the idea
of there being any houseless in the Capital ; and so, too, from the enormous consumption of
food by the aggregate population, as weR as the sumptuousness of the civic banquets, the
anomaly of there being any famishing within it, becomes deeply impressed upon the mind ;
while the exceeding charity of the Metropolis, where many of the asylums for the humblest
even rival in architectural grandeur the dweRing-places of the proudest in the land, naturaRy,
gives a deeper dye, from the mere contrast, to the criminaRty of the London people—^whose
pickpockets, it must be confessed, are among the most expert, and whose "dangerous classes"
are certainly the most brutaRy ignorant in aR Christendom.
For these reasons, therefore, we shaR now proceed to set forth some of the principal
social and moral contrasts to be noted in London town.
^ i. Of the Riches and Poverty of London.
Country people have a saying that the streets of London are paved with gold, and
certainly, when we come to consider the aggregate wealth of the Metropolis, it amounts to so
enormous a sum as tp admit almost of the buRion being sprqad over the entire surface of the
1,750 mRes of paving that make up the London thoroughfares.
In the first place, it has been already stated that the paving of the streets themselves
THE CONTRASTS GE LONDON.
29
costs no less than £14,00.0,000 ; so that when we come to leam that the expense of con-
Btracting the Metropolitan roadways amounts, upon an average, to £8,000 a mile, the very
stones of the streets seem almost to be nuggets of gold.
Again, the treasures buried beneath the soil are equally inconceivable ; for there are no
less than 1,900 miles of gas-pipes laid under these same London stones, and about the same
length of water-pipes as well ; so that these, at only a shilling a foot each, would cost nearly
half a million of money. Further, there are the subterranean tunnels of the sewers—^the
blicken bowels, as it were, of the Capital—of which there are also some hundreds of miles
stretching through London beneath the pavement.
Hence we find that there is a vast amount of wealth sunk both in and under the London
.nadways, and that upon every square yard of earth, trodden under the feet of the people,
there has been an enormous sum expended.,
The amount of money spent, and the vastness of apparatus employed, simply in lighting
London and the suburbs with gas, would seem to dispel all thoughts of poverty ; for,
according to the accoimt of Mr. Barlow, the capital employed in the pipes, tanks, gas-holders,
and apparatus of the aggregate London gas-works, amounts to between £3,000,000 and
£4,000,000 ; and the cost of lightmg averages more than half a million of money per annum
—there being no less than 360,000 gas-lights friagiag the streets, and consuming as much
as 13,000,000 cubic feet of gas every night.
Those who have seen London only in the day-time, with its flood of life pouring through
the arteries to its restless heart, know it not in all its grandeur. They have still, in order to
comprehend the multiforfii sublimity of the great city, to contemplate it by night, afar oflf
from an eminence. As noble a prospect as any in the world, it has been well said, is
London viewed from the suburbs on a clear winter's evening. Though the stars be shining
in the heavens, there is another firmament spread out below with its millions of bright lights
glittering at the feet. Line after line sparkles like the trails left by meteors, and cutting
and crossing one another till they are lost in the haze of distance. Over the whole, too, there
hangs a lurid cloud, bright as if the monster city were in flames, and looking from afar like
the sea at dusk, made phosphorescent by the million creatures dwelling within it.
Again, at night it is that the strange anomalies of London life are best seen. As
the hum of life ceases, and the shops darken, and the gaudy gin palaces thrust out their
ragged and squalid crowds to pace the streets, London puts on its most solemn look of aU.
On the benches of the parks, in the niches of the bridges, and in the litter of the markets,
are huddled together the homeless and the destitute. The only living things that haunt the
streets are the poor wretched Magdalens, who stand shivering in their finery, waiting to
catch the drunkard as he goes shouting homewards. There, on a door-step, crouches some
shoeless child, whose day's begging has not brought it enough to purchase even the penny
night's lodging that his young companions in beggary have gone to. "Where the stones are
taken up and piled high in the road, whUe the mains are being mended, and the gas streams
from a taU pipe, in a flag of flame, a ragged crowd are grouped round the glowing coke fire
—some smoking, and others dozing beside it.
Then, as the streets grow blue with the coming light, and the church spires and roof tops
stand out against the clear sky with a sharpness of outUne that is seen only in London
before its million chimneys cover the town with their smoke—^then come sauntering forth
the unwashed poor ; some with greasy wallets on their backs to hunt over each dust-heap,
and eke out life by seeking refuse hones or stray rags and pieces of old iron ; others, whilst
on their way to their work, are gathered at the comer of some street round the early
breakfast-staU, and blowing saucers of steaming coffee, drawn from tail tin cans that have
the red-hot charcoal shining crimson through the holes in the fire-pan beneath them ; whilst
already the little slattern girl, with her basket slung before her, screams, " Water-creases
through the sleeping streets.
30
THE GREAT "WORLD OF LONDON.
But let us pass to a more cheering subject—let us, in the exceeding wealth of our city,
forget for the moment its exceeding misery. We have already shown what a vast amoimt of
treasure is buried, as we said before, not only in, but under the ground of London; and now
we will proceed to portray the immense value of the buildings raised upon it. The gross
rental, or yearly income from the houses in the metropolis, as assessed to the property and
income tax, amounts to twelve and a half millions of pounds, so that at ten years' purchase, the
aggregate value of the buildings throughout London, wiR amount to no less than the prodi¬
gious sum of one hundred and twenty-five millions sterling.*
Nor is this all: this sum, enormous as it is, expresses the value of the houses only; and
in order to understand the worth also of the furniture that they contain, we must consult
the returns of the Assurance Companies, and thus we shall find that the gross property
insured is valued at more than one hundred and sixty-six million pounds.^
• table shewing the assessment op property to the income tax and poor rates in the several
districts throughout london.
Districts.
i West Districts.
I Kensington
iChelsea .
iSt. George, Hanover
Square
Westminster .
St. Martin in the
Fields .
St. James, West¬
minster
Total .
North Districts.
'Marylebone
Hampstead
PancrasJ
Islington
Hackney.
Total
Central Districts
St. Giles .
■ Strand .
Holbom .
iClerkenwell
St. Luke .
I East London
I West London
London City
Total
.CI
B
17,151
7,591
8.792
6,642
2,307
3,399
45,882
15,826
1,719
18,584
13,528
9,818
59,475
4,700
3,962
4,311
7,224
6,349
4,739
2,657
7,297
p ,2 co
5
132
1 «S
O
p
876,854
167,897
1,009,572
272,790
226,852
416,843
2,970,808
1,132,324
66,656
1,251,737
309,629
170,347
41,239
2,930,693
305,880
353,786
261,665
300,928
193,443
202,598
256,278
1,279,148
3,153,726
650,115
166,998
675,440
223,200
249,555
412,823
1,378,131
836,372
69,357
572,731
329,781
196,073
2,004,314
232,129
220,872
61,206
188,372
141,658
139,767
124,540
,562,428
2,760,972
si .
I. £
o 3
£«
ai ^
ac
« S
CI.
51-1
22-1
114-7
41-0
98-3
1226
64-7
721
38-7
67-3
22-8
17-3
33-6
65-0
89-2
60-6
41-6
30-4
42-7
96-4
17Ô-2
76-4
37-7
21-9
76-8
33-6
1080
121-4
73-6
52'
40-3
30-8
23-9
14-8
33-7
49-3
59-8
11-9
26-0
22-3
29-2
46-8
214-2
93-6
Districts.
the
East Districts.
Shoreditch
Bethnal Green
Whitechapel .
St. George in
East .
Stepney .
Poplar .
Total .
South Districts.
St. Saviour, South-
wark .
St. Olave, ditto
Bermondsey .
St. George, South
wark .
Newington
Lambeth .
Wandsworth .
Camber-well .
Rotherhithe .
Greenwich
Lewisham
Total .
Total for all London
15,337
13,298
8,812
6,146
16,259
6,831
EIÍ CO
el —
S E-
£ s cc
J
•< o
66,683
4,600
2,360
7,007
6,992
10,458
20,447
8,276
9,412
2,792
14,383
5,927
92,654
305,933
325,846
110,072
209,192
184,543
289,093
258,979
1,386,725
71,282
94,231
107,225
153,830
207,877
534,372
368,526
208,338
59,677
290,534
150,359
2,246,251
12,688,203
£
215,694
130,159 8-2
177,719 23-7
21-2
151,343
279,461
193,940
1,148,316
122,156
86,140
127,667
113,999
165,900
458,861
231,476
209,337
58,909
261,987
159,283
1,995,715
12287448
30-0
18-3
37-9
14-0,
8-4-
20-1,
21-3
17-1,
28-3
20-7
15-4
39-9
15-3
22-0
19-8
26-1
44-5
22-1
21-3
20-1
25-3
24-2
41-1
17-2
26-5
36-5
18-2
16-3
15-8
22-4
27-9
22-2
21-0
18-2
26-8
21-5
40-1
+ The revenue derived from the duty paid on Insurances, amounts in round numbers to £250,000 for the
flndon offices only ; and this, at 3s. per £100, gives upwards of £166,000,000 for the aggregate value of the
«ndon Assurances, though only two-fifths of the houses are said to be insured.
t The reason of their being so great a difference between the assessments for the income tax and poor's
ites in thU district, is because the Inns of Court are estimated in the one and not in the other.
THE CONTRASTS GE LONDON.
81
If, then, the value of the house property throughout the Metropolis amounts to so incom-
nrehensible a sum, it is almost impossible to believe that any man among us should want a roof
to shelter his head at night.
The scenes, however, that are to be witnessed in the winter time at the Refuge for the
Destitute, in Playhouse Yard, tell a very different tale ; for those who pay a visit to the
spot, as we did some few winters back, will find a large crowd of houseless poor gathered
about the asylum at dusk, waiting for the first opening of the doors, and with their blue,
shoeless feet, ulcerous with the cold, from long exposure to the snow and ice in the street,
and the bleak, stinging wind blowing through their rags. To hear the cries of the hungry,
shivering ehildren, and the wranghug of the greedy men assembled there to obtain shelter
for the night, and a pound of dry bread, is a thing to haunt one for life. At the time of our
visit there were four hundred and odd creatures, utterly destitute, collected outside the door
Mothers with infants at their breast—fathers with boys cHnging to their side—the friend¬
less—the penniless—the shirtless—^the shoeless—^breadless—homeless ; in a word, the very
poorest of this the very richest city in the world.
The records of this extraordinary institution, too, tell a fearful, history. There is a
world of wisdom and misery to be read in them. The poor who are compelled to avail
themselves of its eleemosynary shelter, warmth, and food, come from all nations. Here
are destitute Erenchmen, Germans, Italians, Scotchmen, Irishmen, Africans, Americans,
Spaniards, Portuguese, Poles—^besides the destitute of our own country ; and there are
artisans belonging to all trades as well—compositors, carpenters, tailors, shoemakers,
smiths, seamen, sweeps, engineers, watchmakers, artists, clerks and shopmen, milliners
and gentlemen's servants, and navvies, and surveyors—^indeed the beggared man of every
craft and calling whatsoever.
The misery of many that are driven to seek the hospitality of such asylums is assuredly
of their own making, and there are many there, too, who pursue mendicancy as a profession,
preferring the precarious gains of begging to the regular income of industry. Many who
trade upon the sympathy of those who desire to ease the sufferings of the deserving poor.
But with these there also are mixed not a few whose callings yield a subsistence only in
the summer time—^brickmakers, agricultural labourers, garden women, and the like—whose
means of subsistence fail them at the very season when the elements conspire to render their
necessities more urgent.
The poverty indicated by the journals of the refuge for the houseless, is quite as startling
to aU generous natures as are the returns of the house property of London. Eor we found—
making allowance, too, for those who had remained more than one night in the establish¬
ment—that, since the opening of the asylum in 1820, as many as 1,141,588 homeless indi¬
viduals had received shelter within the walls ; and that upwards of 2| mülions of pounds,
or nearly 10,025 tons, of bread had been distributed among the poor wretches.
If, then, we are proud of our prodigious riches, surely we cannot but feel humbled at our
prodigious poverty also.
Again, we turn to the brighter side of the London picture, and once more we ourselves
are startled with the army of figures, marshalling the wondrous wealth of this Great
Metropolis.
The late Mr. Rothschild called the English Metropolis, in 1832, the bank of the whole
world: "I mean," said he, "that aU transactions in India and China, in Germany and
Russia, are guided and settled here." And no wonder that the statement should be made ;
for we leam that the amount of capital at the command of the entire London bankers
may be estimated at sixty-four millions of pounds ;* and that the deposits or sums ready to be
• See table of the bill currency of the United Kingdom in Banfield's " Statistical Companion" for 1854.
32
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOUTDOH.
ínyested by the insurance companies may be taken at ten million pounds, -RTiiist the arammt
employed in discounts, in the Metropolis alone, equals the inconceivable sum of seventy-
eight million pounds.
Indeed, it is asserted upon good authority, that the loans of one London house only,
exceeded, in the year 1841, thirty millions sterling, which is upon an average nearly three
milhons of money per month ; such loans occasionally amounting to as much as seven
hundred thousand pounds in a single day.
But this is not all. In London there exists an establishment called the " clearing¬
house," whither are taken the checks and hüls, on the authority of which a great part of
the money paid and received by bankers is made, and where the checks and hüls drawn on
one banking-house are canceUed by those which it holds on others. In the appendix to the
Second Report of the Parhamentary Committee on Banks there is a return of the payments
made through the clearing-house for the yea^- 1839, and though aU the sums under £100
were omitted in the statement, the total was upwards of 954 million poimds ! whilst the
annual payments, through three bankers only, exceeded 100 millions sterling.
Such an extent of commerce is not only unparaleUed, but requires as great faith as a
miracle to enable us to credit it. Nevertheless, a walk to the several docks of London—
those vast emporta of the riches of the entire world—^wiR enable even the most sceptical to
arrive at some sense of the magnitude of our metropoHtan trade.
These docks, indeed, are the very focus of the wealth of our merchant princes. The
cranes creak again with the mass of riches. In the warehouses are stored heaps of indigo
and dye stuffs, that are, as it were, so many ingots of untold gold. Above and below ground
you see pües upon pUes of treasure that the eye cannot compass. The wealth appears as
boundless as the very sea it has traversed, and the brain aches in an attempt to comprehend
the amount of riches before, above, and beneath it. There are acres upon acres of treasures
—^more than enough, one would fancy, to enrich the people of the whole globe.
As you pass along this quay, the air is pungent with the vast stores of tobacco. At that
it overpowers you with the fumes of rum. Then you are nearly sickened with the stench
of hides and huge bins of horns ; and, shortly afterwards, the atmosphere is fragrant with
coffee and spice. Nearly everywhere you see stacks of cork, or else yeUow bins of sulphur,
or lead-coloured copper ore. As you enter one warehouse, the flooring is sticky, as if it
had been newly tarred, with the sugar that has leaked through the tiers of casks ; and as you
descend into the dark vaults, you see long lines of lights hanging from the black arches, and
lamps flitting about midway in the air. Here you sniff the fumes of the wine—and there
are acres df hogsheads of it—together with the peculiar fungous smeU of dry-rot.
Along the quay you see, among the crowd, men with their faces blue with indigo, and
gangers with their long brass-tipped rules dripping with spirit fresh from the casks they
have been probing. Then wiU come a group of flaxen-haired sailors, chattering German ;
and next a black seaman, with a red-cotton handkerchief twisted turban-üke round his head.
Presently, a blue-smocked butcher pushes through the throng, with fresh meat and a bunch
of cabbage in the tray on his shoulder ; and shortly afterwards comes a broad straw-hatted
mate, carrying green parroquets in a wooden cage. Here, too, you wiU see sitting on a bench
a Borrowful-loolring woman, with new bright cooking-tins at her feet, telling you she is
some emigrant preparing for her voyage.
Then the jumble of sounds as you pass along the dock blends in anything but sweet
xincord. The sailors are singing boisterous nigger-songs from the Yankee ship just entering
he dock ; the cooper is hammering at the casks on the quay ; the chains of the cranes, loosed
of their weight, rattle as they fly up again ; the ropes splash in the water ; some captain shouts
his orders through his hands ; a goat bleats from a ship in the basin ; and empty casks roU
along the stones with a hoüow drum-like sound. Here the heavy-laden ships have their
rimwales down in the water, fer below the quay, and you descend to them by ladders,
TICKET-OF-T,EAYE MEN.
(From a Flintog'-ap^i by liorbfrt \VatUiri-, 17r), Rogent Stropi.)
3
THE CONTEASTS OF LOEDON.
35
whilst in another basin the craft stand high up out of the dock, so that their gjreen copper-
sheeting is almost level with the eye of the passenger, and above his head a long line of
bowsprits stretch far over the quay, with spars and planks hanging from them as a tem¬
porary gangway to each vessel.
" It is impossible," says Mr. M'CuUoch, " to form any accurate estimate of the amount
of the trade of the Port of London. But if we include the produce conveyed into and from
the Port, as well as the home and foreign markets, it will not," ho tells us, "be overrated
at the prodigious sum of %ixty-jke millions sterling per annum."
Of this enormous extent of commerce the Docks are the headquarters.
But if the incomprehensibility of this wealth rises to sublimity, assuredly the want that
co-exists with it is equally incomprehensible and equally sublime.
Pass from the quay and warehouses to the courts and alleys that surround them, and the
mind is as bewildered with the destitution of the one place as it is with the superabundance
of the other. Many come to see the riches, but few the poverty abounding in absolute
masses round the far-famed Port of London.
He, therefore, who wishes to behold one of the most extraordinary and least known scenes
of the Metropolis, should wend his way to the London Dock gates at half-past seven in the
morning. There he will see congregated, within the principal entrance, masses of men of all
ranks, looks, and natures. Decayed and bankrupt master butchers are there, and broken-
down master bakers, publicans, and grocers, and old soldiers, sailors, Polish refugees, quondam
gentlemen, discharged lawyers' clerks, "suspended" government officials, almsmen, pen¬
sioners, servants, thieves—^indeed every one (for the work requires no training) who wants
a loaf, and who is willing to work for it. The London Dock is one of the few places in the
Metropolis where men can get employment without character or recommendation.
As the hour approaches eight, you know by the stream pouring through the gates, and
the rush towards particular spots, that the " calling foremen" have made their appearance,
and that the " casual men " are about to be taken on for the day.
Then begins the scuffiing and scrambling, and stretching forth of countless hands high
in the air, to catch the eye of him whose nod can give them work. As the foreman calls
from a book the names, some men jump up on the back of others, so as to lift themselves
high above the rest and attract his notice. All are shouting ; some ciy aloud his surname,
and some his christian name ; and some call out their own names to remind him that
they are there. How the appeal is made in Irish blarney ; and now in broken English.
Indeed, it is a sight to sadden the most callous to see thousands of men struggling there
for only one day's hire, the scuffle being made the fiercer by the knowledge that hundreds
out of the assembled throng must be left to idle the day out in want. To look in the faces
of that himgry crowd is to see a sight that is to be ever remembered. Some are smiling to
the foreman to coax him into remembrance of them ; others, with their protruding eyes, are
terribly eager to snatch at the hoped-for pass for work. Many, too, have gone there and
gone through the same struggle, the same cries, and have left after all without the work
they had screamed for.
Until we saw vtdth our own eyes this scene of greedy despair, we could not have
believed that there was so mad an anxiety to work, and so bitter a want of it among so vast
a body of men. Ho wonder that the calling foreman should be often carried many yards
away by the struggle and rush of the multitude around him, seeking employment at his
hands ! One of the officials assured us that he had more than once been taken off his feet,
and hurried to a distance of a quarter of a mile by the eagerness of the impatient crowd
clamouring for work.
If, however, the men fail in getting taken on at the commencement of the day, they
then retire to the waitine-vard. at the back of the Docks, there to remam hour after hour, in
36
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDOH.
hope that the wind may blow them some stray ship, so that other gangs may be wanted,
and the calling foreman come to seek fresh hands there.
It is a sad sight, too, to see the poor fellows waiting in these yards to be hired at fonrpence
per hour—for such are the terms given iu the after-part of the day. There, seated on
long benches ranged against the waU, they remain, some telling their miseries, and some
their crimes, to one another, while others dose away their time. Eain or simshine, there
are always plenty of them ready to catch the stray shilling or eightpence for^the two or three
hours' labour. By the size of the shed you can judge how many men sometimes stay there,
in the pouring rain, rather than run the chance of losing the stray hour's job. Some loiter
on the bridge close by, and directly that their practised eye or ear tells them the calling
foreman is in want of another gang, they rush forward in a stream towards the gate—
though only six or eight at most can be hired out of the hundred or more that are waiting.
Then the same mad fight takes place again as in the morning ; the same jumping on benches ;
the same raising of hands ; the same entreaties ; ay! and the same failure as before.
It is strange to mark the change that takes place in the manner of the men when the
foreman has left. Those that have been engaged go smiling to their labour, while those
who are left behind give vent to their disappointment in abuse of him before whom they had
been supplicating and smiling but a few minutes previously.
There are not less than 20,000 souls living by Dock labour in the Metropolis. The
London Docks are worked by between 1,000 to 3,000 hands, according as the business is
brisk or slack—that is, according as the wind is, fair or foul, for the entry of the ships
into the Port of London.
Hence there are some thousands of stomachs deprived of food by the mere chopping of
the breeze. "It's an iU wind," says the proverb, " that blows nobody any good;" andimtil
we came to investigate the condition of the Dock labourer, we could not have believed it
possible that near upon 2,000 souls in one place alone lived, chameleon-hke, upon the very
air ; or that an easterly wind could deprive so many of bread. It is, indeed, " a nipping and
an eager air."
That the sustenance of thousands of families should be as fickle as the very breeze itself,
that the weather-cock should be the index of daily want or daily ease to such a vast body of
men, women, and children, is a climax of misery and wretchedness that could hardly have
been imagined to exist in the very heart of our greatest wealth.
Hor is it less wonderful, when we come to consider the immense amount of food consumed
in London, that there should be such a thing as known among us.
The returns of the cattle-market, for instance, tell us that the population of London
consume some 277,000 buEocks, 30,000 calves, 1,480,000 sheep, and 34,000 pigs; and these,
it is estimated by Mr. Hicks, are worth between seven and eight millions sterling.
In the way of bread, the Londoners are said to eat up no less than 1,600,000 quarters of
wheat.
Then the list of vegetables supplied by the aggregate London " green markets ''—includ¬
ing Covent-garden, Farringdon, Portman, the Borough, and Spitalfields—^is as follows :—
310,464,000 pounds
89,672,000 plants
14,326,000 heads
32,648,000 roote .
1,850,000 junks .
16,817,000 roots .
potatoes
cabbages
broccoE and cauliflowers
turnips
ditto, tops
carrots
peas
beans
French beans
438,000 bushels
133,400 „
221,100 „
THE CONTRASTS OF LONDON.
37
19,872
19,560
34,800
91,200
4,492,800
132,912
1,489,600
94,000
87,360
32,900
dozen . .
dozen bundles
>) >>
»
plants . .
dozen hands
bushels . .
dozen bxtndles
bushels . .
dozen bundles
vegetable marrows
asparagus
celery-
rhubarb
lettuces
radishes
onions
ditto (spring)
cucumbers
herbs*
Again, the list of the gross quantity of fish that is eaten at the London dinners cr
suppers is equally enormous :—
Wet Fish.
3,480,000 poimds of salmon and salmon trout 29,000 hoxes, 14 fish per box
4,000,000
26,880,000
6,752,000
5,040,000
33,600,000
23,250,000
42,000,000
252,000,000
4,000,000
1,505,280
127,680
4,200,000
8,000,000
10,920,000
10,600,000
14,000,000
96,000
live cod averaging 10 lbs. each
soles averaging j lb. each
whiting averaging 6 ounces
haddock . . ., . . . averaging 2 lbs. each
plaice averaging 1 lb. each
mackerel averaging 1 lb. each
fi-esh herrings .... 250,000 barrels, 700 fish per barrel
„ „ . . .in bulk
sprats
eels from Holland . . . )
England and Ireland )
6 fish per 1 lb.
Det Fish.
barrelled cod .
dried salt cod
smoked haddock
bloaters . .
red herrings .
dried sprats
15,000 barrels, 50 fish per barrel
5 lbs. each
25,000 barrels, 300 fish per barrel
265,000 baskets, 150 fish per basket
100,000 barrels, 500 fish per barrel
9,600 large bundles, 30 fish per bundle
Shell Fish.
. . . oysters 309,935 barrels, 1,600 fish per barrel
1,200,000 . . . lobsters averaging 1 lb. each fish
600,000 . . . crahs . . averaging 1 lb. each fish
192,295 gallons . shrimps . . . . 324 to the pint
24,300^ bushels . whelks 224 to the J bushel
50,400 „ . mussels 1,000 to the ^ bushel
32,400 „ . cockles 2,000 to the ¿ bushel
76,000 „ . periwinkles .... 4,000 to the ^ bushel
• These returns, and those of the fish, cattle, and poultry markets, -were originally collected by the
author, for the first time in London, from the several salesmen at the markets, and cost both much time and
money ; though the gentlemen -who fabricate books on London, from Mr. M'Culloch down-wards, do not hesi¬
tate to dig their scissors into the results, taking care to do with them the same as is doue with the saulen
handkerchieils in Petticoat Lane—^viz., pick out the name of the ovmer.
88
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDOH.
Further, in the matter of game poultry, the metropolitan consumption from one market
alone (Lcadenhall) amounts to the following :—
Tame Bibds aud Domestic Fowls.
1,266,000
188,000
235,000
60,000
284,500
fowls
geese
ducks
turkeys
pigeons
Total, 2,033,500
Wild Bieds, on Animals, on Game.
45,000 grouse
84,500 partridges
43,500 pheasants
10,000 . teal
30,000 widgeons
60,000 . . snipes
28,000 .... plovers
213,000 .... larks
39,500 . wild birds
48,000 hares
680,000
Total, 1,281,500
rabbits
By way of dessert to this enormous banquet, the supply of fruit famished by all the
London markets is equally inconceivable :—
686,000
bushels of .
apples
353,000
pears
173,200
dozen lbs. of
cherries
176,500
bushels of .
plums
5,333
>>
greengages
16,450
damsons
4,900
}f
buUace
276,700
7f
gooseberries
171,000
sieves . .
currants (red)
108,000
currants (black)
24,000
99
currants (white)
1,527,500
pottles . .
strawberries
35,250
99
raspberries
127,940
99
mulberries
9,018
bushels of .
hazel nuts
518,400
lbs. of . .
filberts
Then, as a fitting companion to this immense amount of solid food, the quantity of liquids
consumed is as follows :—
65,000 pipes of wines
2,000,000 gallons of spirits
43,200,000 gallons of porter and ale
19,215,000,000 gallons of water, supplied by the several companies to the houses.
THE CONTRASTS OP LONDON.
39
And lastly, for the purposes of heating and lighting, the Metropolis hums no less than
3,000,000 tons of coal.
But if the great meat and vegetable and poultry markets of the Metropolis are indications
of the good living indulged in by a large proportion of the people, there are at the same time
other markets which may be cited as proofs of the privation undergone by large numbers
also. The wretched man who Kves by picking up bits of rag in the street—and there is a
considerable army of them—cannot be said to ádd much to the gross consumption of the
Capital ; still he even attends his market, and has his exchange, even though he deals in
cmpons of linen, and traffics in old iron rather than the precious metals.
Let us, then, by way of contrast to the luxury indicated by the preceding details, follow
the bone-grubber to his mart—^the exchange for old clothes and rags.
The traffic here consists not of ship-loads of valuables brought from the four quarters of
the globe, but simply of wallets of refuse gathered from the areas, mews, and alleys of
every part of London ; for that which is bought and sold in this locality is not made up of
the choicest riches of the world, but simply of what others have cast aside as worthless.
Indeed, the wealth in which the merchants of Rag Pair deal, so far from being of any value
to ordinary minds, is merely the offal of the well-to-do—^the skins sloughed by gentility—^the
dehris, as it were, of the fashionable world.
The merchandize of this quarter consists not of gold-dust and ivory, but literally of old
metal and bones ; not of bales of cotton and pieces of rich silk, but of bits of dirty rag,
swept from shop doors and picked up and washed by the needy finders ; not of dye-stuffs, nor
indigo, nor hides, but of old soleless shoes, to be converted by the alchemy of science into
Prussian blue wherewith to tint, perhaps, some nobles' robes, and bits of old iron to be made
into new.
Some, dozen years ago, one of the Hebrew merchant dealers in old clothes purchased the
houses at the back of Phil's Buildings—a court leading out of Houndsditch, immediately
facing St. Mary Axe, and formed the present market, now styled the " Old Œothes
Exchange," and where Rag Pair maybe said to be at present centralized. Prior to this, the
market was held in the streets.
About three or four o'clock in winter, and four or five in summer, are the busiest periods at
the "Old Clothes Exchange;" and then the passage leading to the Mart from Houndsditch
wül be seen to be literaRy black with the mob of old-clothes men congregated outside the
gates. Almost all have bags on their backs, and not a few three or four old hats in their hands,
whQe here and there faces with grizzly beards will be seen through the vista of hook noses.
Immediately outside the gateway, at the end of the crowded court, stands the celebrated
Barney Aaron, the janitor, with out-stretched hand waiting to receive the halfpenny toU,
demanded of each of the buyers and sellers who enter ; and with his son by his side, with a
leathern pouch filled with half a hundred weight of coppers he has already received, and
ready to give change for any stiver that may be tendered.
As the stranger passes through the gate, the odour of the collocated old clothes and old
rags, and old shoes, together with, in the season, half-putrid hare skins, is almost overpower¬
ing. The atmosphere of the place has a peculiar sour smeU blended with the mildewy or
fungous odour of what is termed " mother indeed the stench is a compound of moitidiness,
mustiness, and fustiness—a kind of houqmt de müle sewers," that is far from pleasant to
christian nostrils.
ITie hucksters of tatters as they pour in with their bundles at their backs, one after
another, are surrounded by some half-dozen of the more eager Jews, some in greasy gaber¬
dines extending to the heels and clinging almost as tight to the frame as ladies' wet bathing-
gowns. Two or three of them seize the hucksters by the arm, and feel the contents of the
bundle at his back ; and a few tap them on the shoulder as they all clamour for the first sight
of the rontents of their wallets.
40
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDON.
" Ha' you cot any preaMug (broken pieces) ?" cries one iirbo buys old coats, to cut into
cloth caps.
" Cot any fustian, old cordsh, or old poots ?" " Yer know me," says another, in a
wheedling tone. " I'm little Ikey, the pest of puyers, and always gives a coot prishe."
Such, indeed, is the anxiety and eagerness of the Israelitish buyers to get the first chance
of the bargains, that it is as much as the visitor can do to force his way through the greedy
and greasy mob.
Once past the entrance, however, the stranger is able to obtain a tolerable view of the
place.
The "Exchange" consists of a large square plot of ground, about an acre in extent, and
surrounded by a low hoarding, with a narrow sloping roof, hardly wider indeed than the old
eaves to farm-houses, and projecting far enough forward to shelter one person from the rain.
Across this ground are placed four double rows of benches, ranged back to back, and here sit
the sellers of old clothes, with their unsightly and unsavoury store of garments strewn or
püed on the ground at their feet, whilst between the rows of petty dealers pass the merchant
buyers on the look-out for "bargains."
The first thing that strikes the mind is, that a greater bustle and eagerness appear to
rage among the buyers of the refuse of London, than among the traders in the more valuable
commodities. Every lot exposed for sale seems to have fulfilled to the utmost the office for
which it was designed, and now that its uses are ended, and it seems to be utterly worthless,
the novice to such scenes cannot refrain from marvelling what remaining quality can possibly
give the least value to the rubbish.
Here a " crockman" (a seller of crockery ware), in a bright-red plush waistcoat and
knee-breeches, and with legs like balustrades, sits beside his half-emptied basket of china
and earthen-ware, while at his feet is strewn the apparently worthless collection of paletots,
and cracked Wellingtons, and greasy napless hats, for which he has exchanged his jugs,
basins, and spar ornaments. A few yards from him is a woman, enveloped in a coachman's
drab and many-caped box-coat, with a pair of men's cloth boots on her feet, and her limp-
looking straw bonnet flattened down on her head, from repeated loads ; the groimd .before
ker, too, is littered with old tea-coloured stays, and bundles of wooden busks, and little bits of
whalebone, whilst beside her, on the seat, lies a small bundle of old parasols tied together, and
looking like a quiver full of arrows. In the winter you may see the same woman surrounded
with hare skins ; some so old and stiff that they seem frozen, and the fresher ones looking
shiny and crimson as red tinsel.
Now you come, as you push your way along the narrow passage between the seats, to a
TUHTi with a small mound of old boots, some of which have the soles torn off, and the broken
threads showing underneath like the stump of teeth ; others are so brown from long want
of blacking, that they seem almost to be pieces of rusty metal, and others again are
speckled all over with small white spots of mildew. Beside another huckster is piled a little
MUock of washed-out light waistcoats, and old cotton drawers, and straw-bonnets half in
shreds. Then you see a Jew boy holding up the remains of a theatrical dress, consisting of a
Wapk velvet body stuck aU over with bed furniture ornaments, and evidently reminding the
young Israelite of some " soul-stirring" melo-dramathathehas seen on the Saturday evening
at the Pavilion Theatre.
A few steps farther on, you find one of the merchants blowing into the ftir of some
old imitation-sable muff, that has gone as foxy as a Scotchman's whiskers. Next, your
attention is fixed upon a black-chinned and lanthom-jawed bone-grubber, clad in dirty
greasy rags, with his wallet emptied on the stones, and the bones from it, as weU as bits of
old iron and horse-shoes, and pieces of rags, aU sorted into different lots before him ; and as
he sits there, anxiously waiting for a purchaser, he munchqs a hunk of mouldy pie crust that
he has had given to him on his rounds.
THE CONTRASTS OF LONDON.
41
In one part of the Exchange you recognÍ7P the swarthy features of some well-known
travelling tioker, with a complexion the cojour of curry powder, and hands brown, as if
recently tarred ; while in front of him is reared a pyramid of old battered hritannia-metal
teapots and saucepans ; and next to him sits an umbrella mender, before whom is strewn
a store of whalebone ribs, and ferruled sticks fitted with sharp pointed bone handles.
Then the buyers, too, are almost as picturesque and motley a group as the sellers, for the
purchasers are of all nations, and habited in every description of costume. Some are
Greeks, others Swiss, others again Germans ; some have come there to buy up the rough
old charity clothing and the army great coats for the Irish " market." One man with a long
flowing beard and tattered gaberdine, that shines like a tarpaulin with the grease, and who is
said to be worth thousands, is there again, as indeed he is day after day, to see if he cannot
add another sixpence to his hoard, by dabbling in the rags and refuse with which the groimd
is covered. Mark how he is wheedling, and whining, and shrugging up his shoulders to that
poor wretch, in the hope of inducing him to part with the silver pencil-case he has " found"
on his rounds, for a few pence less than its real value.
As the purchasers go pacing up and down the narrow pathways, threading their way,
now along the old bottles, bonnets, and rags, and now among the bones, the old metal and
stays, the gowns, the hats, and coats, a thick-lipped Jew boy shouts firom his high stage in
the centre of the market, " Shinsher peer, an aypenny a glarsh !—an aypenny a glarsh,
shinsher peer ! " Between the seats women worm along carrying baskets of trotters, and
screaming as they go, " Legs of mutton, two for a penny ! "Who'll give me a hansel/' And
after them comes a man with a large tray of " fatty cakes."
In the middle of the market, too, stands another dealer in street luxuries, with a display
of pickled whelks, like huge snails floating in saucers of brine ; and next to him is a sweet¬
meat stall, with a crowd of young Israelites gathered round the keeper eagerly gambling
with marbles for "Albert rock" and " Boneyparte's ribs."
At one end of the Exchange stands a cofiee and beer shop, inside of which you flnd Jews
playing at draughts, or wrangling as they settle for the articles which they have bought or
sold ; while, even as you leave by the gate that leads towards Petticoat Lane, there is a girl
stationed outside with a horse-pail fuU of ice, and dispensing haL^enny egg-cupsful of
what appears to be very much like frozen soap-suds, and shouting, as she shakes the bucket,
and maked the ice in it rattle like broken glass, " Now, hoys ! here's your coolers, only
an aypenny a glass ! —an aypenny a glass ! "
In fine, it may tnily be said that in no other part of the entire world is such a scene of
riot, rags, filth, and feasting to be witnessed, as at the Old Clothes Exchange in Houndsditch.
^ ii. The Charity and the Crime of London.
The broad line of demarcation separating our own time from that of all others, is to found
in the fuUer and more general development of the human sympathies.
Our princes and nobles are no longer the patrons of prize-fights, but the presidents
of benevolent institutions. Instead of the bear-gardens and cock-pits that formerly
flourished in every quarter of the town, our Capital bristles and glitters with its thousand
palaces for the indigent and suffering poor. If we are distinguished among nations for our
exceeding wealth, assuredly we are equally illustrious for our abundant charity. Almost
every want or iU that can distress human nature has some palatial institution for the
mitigation of it. We have rich societies for every conceivable form of benevolence—for the
visitation of the sick ; for the cure of the maimed, and the crippled ; for the alleviarion of the
pangs of child-birth ; for giving shelter to the houseless, support to the aged and the infirm,
homes to the orphan and the foundling ; for the refbrmation of juvenile offenders and prosti¬
tutes, the reception of the children of convicts, the liberation of debtors, the suppression
42
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDOH.
of vice ; for educating the ragged, teaching the blind, the deaf and the dumb ; for guarding
and soothing the mad ; protecting the idiotic, clothing the naked, and feeding the hungry.
Hor does our charity cease with our own coimtrymen ; for the very ship-of-war which we
build to destroy the people of other lands, we ultimately convert into a floating hospital to
save and comfort them in the hour of their affliction among us.
Of the sums devoted to the maintenance of these various institutions, the excellent little
work of Mr. Sampson Low, jun., on the "Charities of London in 1852-3," enables us to
come to a ready and very accurate conclusion.
Accordingly we find, upon reference to this work, that there are altogether in the
Metropolis 530 charitable institutions, viz. :—
Ninety-two Medical Charities, having an aggregate income during the year of £266,925.
Twelve Societies for the Preservation of Life, Health, and Public Morals, whose yearly
incomes equal altogether, £35,717.
Seventeen for Eeclaiming the Fallen, or Penitentiary and Eeformatory Asylums = £39,486.
Thirteen for the EeHef of Street Destitution and Distress = £18,326.
Fourteen for the Eehef of Specific Distress = £27,387.
One hundred and twenty-six Asylums for the Eeception of the Aged = £87,630.
Nine for the Benefit of the Blind, Deaf and Dumb = £25,050.
Thirteen Asylums for the Maintenance of Orphans = £45,464.
Fifteen for the Maintenance of other Children (exclusive of Parochial Schools) = £88,228.
Twenty-one Societies for the Promotion of Schools and their efficiency = £72,247.
Twenty-five Jewish Miscellaneous Charities = £10,000.
Nineteen for the Benefit of the Industrious = £9,124.
Twelve Benevolent Pension Societies = £23,667.
Fifteen Clergy Aid Funds = £35,301.
Thirty-two other Professional and Trade Benevolent Funds = £53,467.
Thirty Trade Provident = £25,000.
Forty-three Home Mission Societies (several combining extensive operations abroad) =
£319,705.
Fourteen Foreign Mission Societies = £459,668.*
To this list must be added five imclassed Societies = £3,252.
Also an amount of £160,000, raised during the year for special funds, iucluding the
proposed Wellington College, the new Medical College, the Wellington Benevolent Fund, &c.
—m airing altogether, as the subject of our " Eeport,"—
Five hundred and thirty Charitable Societies in London, with an aggregate amount
disbursed during the year of £l,805,635.f
But the above aggregate amoimt of the metropolitan charitable donations, large as the
sum is, refers only to the moneys entrusted to public societies to distribute. Of the amount
disbursed by private individuals in charity to their poorer neighbours, of course no accurate
estimate can be formed. But if we assume that as much money is given in private as in
public charity (and from our inquiries among the London beggars, and especially the
" screeving" or begging-letter "writing class, we have reason to believe that there is much
more), we shall have, in round numbers, a gross total of three and a half milhms of money
annuaEy distributed by the rich among the poor.
Now, as a set-off against this noble indication of the benevolence of our people, we "will
• The sales of Bibles and other religious publications, realising above £100,000, is not included in
either of the last-mentioned amounts.
t These figures have been compiled from the various statements of the year during 1852-3, for the
which they are respectively made up to—averaging March 31, 1853. Grammar Schools and Educational
Establishments, as Merchant Taylors' and St. Paul's, are not included—neither Parochial and other Local
Schools—or Miscellaneous Endowments in the gift of City Companies and Parishes.
THE COHTRASTb OF LONDOH.
43
again humble the Londoner's pride by giving him a faint notion of tíie criminality of a large
body of London folk.
In the Eeports of the Poor-Law Conunissioners we find that between the years 1848 and
1849 there were no less than 143,064 vagrants, or tramps, admitted into the casual wards of
the workhouses throughout the metropolitan districts.*
There are, then, no less than 143,000 admissions of vagrants to the casual wards of the
Metropolis in the course of the year ; and granting that many of these temporary inmates
appear more than once in the calculation (for it is the habit of the class to go from one
eleemosynary asylum to another), stiU we shall have a large number distributed throughout
the Metropolis. The conclusion we have come to, after consulting with the best authorities
on the subject, is, that there are just upon 4,000 habitual vagabonds distributed about
London, and the cost of their support annually amounts to verjr nearly £50,000.f
" One of the worst concomitants of vagrant mendicancy," says thePoor-Law Report, "is
the fever of a dangerous typhoid character which has universally marked the path of the
mendicant. There is scarcely a workhouse in which this pestilence does not prevail in a
greater or less degree ; and numerous Union officers have fallen victims to it." Those who
are acquainted with the exceeding filth of the persons frequenting the casual wards, will not
wonder at the fever which follows in the wake of the vagrants. " Many have the itch. I
have seen," says Mr. Boase, " a party of twenty all scratching themselves at once, before
settling into their rest in the straw. Lice exist in great numbers upon them."
That vagrancy is the nursery of crime, and that the habitual tramps are first beggars
then thieves, and finally the convicts of the country, the evidence of all parties goes to prove.
But we cannot give the reader a better general idea of the character and habits of this
class than by detailing the particulars of a meeting of that curious body of people which we
once held, and when as many as 150 were present. Never was witnessed a more distressing
• The items making up the above total—that is to say, the number of vagrants admitted into the several
Metropolitan Workhouses—may be given as follows :—Paneras, 19,859 ; Chelsea, 15,199 ; Stepney, 12,869;
West London, 9,777 ; Fulham, 9,017 ; Holborn, 7,947 ; St. Margaret, Westminster, 7,419 ; St. George,
Southwark, 6,918 ; London City, 6,825 ; Newington, 9,575 ; Shorediteh, 5,921 ; Paddington, 5,378 ; East
London, 4,912 ; Islington, 4,561 ; Kensington, 3,917 ; Wandsworth, 3,848 ; St. Luke's, 3,409 ; Whitechapel,
3,304 ; Botherhithe, 2,627 ; Lambeth, 2,516 ; CamberweU, 2,104 ; St. Martin's in the Fields, 1,823 ; Poplar,
1,737 ; Bethnal Green, 1,620 ; Greenwich, 1,404 ; Hackney, 833 ; St. Giles, 581 ; St. James, Westminster,
371 ; Clerkenwell, 88 ; Strand, 68 ; St. George in the East, 31 ; St. Saviour, 15 ; Lewisham, 12 ; St. Olave,
Southwark, 0 ; Bermondsey, 0 ; St. George, Hanover Square, 0 ; Marylebone, 0 ; Hampstead, 0.
t The above conclusion has been arrived at from the following data :—
Average number of Vagrants relieved each night in the Metropolitan Unions . . 849
Average number of Vagrants resident in the Mendicants' Lodging-houses of London . 2,431
Average number of individuals relieved at the Metropolitan Asylums for the houseless
poor 750
Total .... 4,030
Now, as five per cent, of this amount is said to consist of characters really destitute and deserving, we
airive at the conclusion that there are 3,829 vagrants in London, living either by mendicancy or theft.
The cost of the vagrants in London in the year 1848, may be estimated as follows :—
310,058 vagrants relieved at the Metropolitan Unions, at the cost of 2d. per
head £2,584 13 0
67,500 nights' lodgings afforded to the houseless poor at the Metropolitan
Asylums, including the West End Asylum, Market Street, Edgeware Bead 3,134 1 4}
2,431 inmates of the Mendicants' Lodging-houses in London, gaining by
"cadging" upon an average. Is. per day, or altogether, per year . . 44,365 15 0
£50,084 9 41
Deduct 5 per cent, for the cost of relief for the truly deserving . . . 2,504 4 5
The total will then he ... . £47,580 4 llj
44
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
spectacle of squalor, rags, and wretchedness. Some were young men, and some were children
One, who styled himself a " cadger," was six years of age, and several who confessed them
selves as "prigs" were only ten. The countenances of the boys were of various character
Many were not only good-looking, but had a frank ingenuous expression, that seemed in no
way connected with innate roguery. Many, on the other hand, had the deep-sunk and half-
averted eye, which is so characteristic of natural dishonesty and cunning. Some had the
regular features of lads bom of parents in easy circumstances. The hair of most of the lads
was cut very close to the head, showing their recent liberation from prison ; indeed, one might
teU, by the comparative length of the crop, the time that each boy had been out of gaol. AE
but a few of the elder lads were remarkable, amidst the rags, filth, and wretchedness of
their external appearance, for the mirth and carelessness impressed upon the countenance.
At first their behaviour was very noisy and disorderly, coarse and ribald jokes were freely
cracked, exciting general bursts of laughter ; while howls, cat-calls, and aE manner of unearthly
and indescribable yeEs threatened for a time to render aE attempts at order utterly abortive.
At one moment, a lad would imitate the bray of the jackass, and immediately the whole
hundred and fifty would faE to braying Eke him. Then some ragged urchin would crow
like a cock ; whereupon the place would echo with a hundred and fifty cock-crows ! Next,
as a negro-boy entered the room, one of the young vagabonds would shout out swe-ee-p;
this would he received with peals of laughter, and foEowed by a general repetition of the
same cry. Presently a hundred and fifty cat-caUs, of the shrülest possible description, would
almost spEt the ears. These would be succeeded by cries of, "Strike up, catgut scrapers!"
"Go on with your barrow!" "Flare up, my never-sweats !" and a variety of other street
sayings.
Indeed, the uproar which went on before the commencement of the meeting vtíE be best
understood, if we compare it to the scene presented by a pubEc menagerie at feeding time.
The greatest difficulty, as nught be expected, was experienced in coEecting the subjoined
statistics as to the character and condition of those present on the occasion. By a persevqring
mode of inquiry, however, the foEowing facts were eEcited :—
With respect to age, the youngest boy present was six years old; he styled himself
a cadger, and said that his mother, who was a widow, and suffering from El health, sent
him into the streets to beg. There were 7 of ten years of age, 3 of twelve, and 3 of thirteen,
10 of fourteen, 26 of fifteen, 11 of sixteen, 20 of seventeen, 26 of eighteen, and 45 of
nineteen.
Then 19 had fathers and mothers stiE Eving, 39 had only one parent, and 80 were
orphans, in the fuEest sense of the word, having neither father nor mother aEve.
Of professed beggars, there were 50 ; whilst 66 acknowledged themselves to be habitual
"prigs ; " the anouncement that the greater number present were thieves pleased them exceed¬
ingly, and was received with three rotmds of applause.
Next it was ascertained that 12 of them had been in prison once (2 of these were but ten
years of age), 5 had been in prison twice, 3 thrice, 4 four times, 7 five times, 8 six times, 5 seven
times, 4 eight times, 2 nine times (and 1 of these thirteen years of age), 5 ten times, 5 twelve
times, 2 thirteen times, 3 fourteen times, 2 sixteen times, 3 seventeen times, 2 eighteen times,
5 twenty times, 6 twenty-four times, 1 twenty-five times, 1 twenty-six times, and 1 twenty-
nine times.
The announcements in reply to the question as to the number of times that any
of them had been in gaol, were received with great applause, which became more and
more boisterous as the number of imprisonments increased. "When it was announced that one,
though only nineteen years of age, had been incarcerated as many as twenty-nine times, the
clapping of hands, the cat-caEs, and shouts of "bray-vo !" lasted for several minutes, whEst the
whole of the boys rose to look at the distingiEshed individual. Some chalked on their hats
the figures which designated the sum of the several times they had been in gaol.
THE C0NTEA8TS OF LONDON.
45
As to the cause of their vagabondism, it was found that 22 had run away from their
homes, owing to the ill-treatment of their parents; 18 confessed to having been ruined
through their parents allowing them to run wild in the streets, and to be led astray by bad
companions; and 15 acknowledged that they had been first taught thieving in a lodging-
house.
Concerning the vagrant habits ctf the youths, the following facts were elicited:—78
regularly roam through the country every year ; 65 sleep regularly in the casual-wards of the
unions ; and 52 occasionally slept in trampers' lodging-houses throughout the country.
Eespecting their education, according to the popular meaning of the term, 63 of the 150
were able to read and write, and they were principally thieves. 50 of this number said they
had read " Jack Sheppard," and the lives of " Dick Tuipin," and " Claude du Val," and all
the other popular thieves' novels, as well as the Newgate Calendar, and lives of the robbers
and pirates. Those who could not read themselves, said that "Jack Sheppard" was read out to
them at the lodging-houses. Numbers avowed that they had been induced to resort to an
abandoned course of life from reading the lives of notorious thieves, and novels about highway
robbers. When asked what they thought of Jack Sheppard, several bawled out—" He's a
regular brick !"—a sentiment which was almost universally concurred in by the deafening shouts
and plaudits which followed. When (juestioned as to whether they would like to have been
Jack Sheppard, the answer was, "Yes, if the times were the same now as they were then!"
13 confessed that they had taken to thieving in order to go to the low theatres; and one lad
said he had lost a good situation on the Birmingham railway through his love of the play.
20 stated that they had been flogged in prison, many of them having been so punished two,
three, and four different times.
A policeman in plain clothes was present, but their acute eyes were not long before they
detected his real character, notwithstanding his disguise. Several demanded that he should
be turned out. The officer was accordingly given to understand that the meeting was a
private one, and requested to withdraw. Having apologized for intruding, he proceeded to
leave the room ; and no sooner did the boys see the " Peeler " move towards thg door than
they ^ave vent to several rounds of very hearty applause, accompanied with hisses, groans,
and cries of " Throw hini over ! "
Now, we have paid some little attention to such strange members of the human family
as these, and others at war with all social institutions. We have thought the peculiarities
of their nature as worthy of study in an ethnological point of view, as those of the people of
other countries, and we have learnt to look upon them as a distinct race of individuals, as
distinct as the Malay is from the Caucasian tribe. We have sought, moreover, to reduce
their several varieties into something Hke system, believing it quite as requisite that we
should have an attempt at a scientific classification of the criminal classes, as of the Infusoriae
or the Cryptogamia. An enumeration of the several natural orders and species of criminals
will let the reader see that the class is as multifarious, and surely, ih a scientific point of view,
as worthy of being studied as the varieties of animalcules.
In the first place, then, the criminal classes are divisible into three distinct families, i.e.,
the beggars, the cheats, and the thieves.
Of the beggars there are many distinct species. (1.) The naval and the military beggars ;
as turnpike sailprs and "raw" veterans. (2.) Distressed operative beggars; as pretended
starved-out manufacturers, or sham frozen-out gardeners, or tricky hand-loom weavers, &c.
Í3.) Eespectable beggars; as sham broken-down tradesmen, poor ushers or distressed
authors, clean family beggars, with children ip very white pinafores and their faces cleanly
washed, and the ashamed beggars, who pretend to hide their faces with a written petition.
(4.) Disaster beggars; as shipwrecked mariners, or blown-up miners, or bumt-out trades¬
men, and lucifer droppers (5.) Bodily afflicted beggars; such as those having real or
pretended sores ar swollen legs, or being crippled or deformed, maimed, or paralyzed, or
46
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
else being blind, or deaf, or dumb, or subject to fits, or in a decline and appearing TpitE
bandages round the head, or playing the " shallow cove," i. e., 'appearing half-clad in the
streets. (6.) Famished beggars; as those who chalk on the pavement, "I am starving,"
or else remain stationary, and hold up a piece of paper before their face similarly inscribed.
(7.) Foreign beggars, who stop you in the street, and request to know if you can speak French;
or destitute Poles, Indians, or Lascars, or Hegroes. (8.) Petty trading beggars ; as tract
seUers, lucifer match sellers, boot lace venders, &c. (9.) Musical beggars ; or those who
play on some musical instrument, as a cloak for begging—as scraping fiddlers, hurdy-gurdy
and clarionet players. (10.) Dependents of beggars; as screevers or the writers of "slums"
(letters) and "fakements" (petitions), and referees, or those who give characters to profes¬
sional beggars.
The second criminal class consists of cheats, and these are subdivisible into—(1.) Govern¬
ment defrauders ; as "jiggers" (defrauding the excise by working illicit stills), and smugglers
who defraud the customs. (2.) Those who cheat the public ; as swindlers, who cheat those
of whom they buy; and duffers and horse-chanters, who cheat those to whom they seE; and
" Charley pitchers," or low gamblers, cheating those with whom they play; and "bouncers
and besters," who cheat by laying wagers; and "fiat catchers," or ring-droppers, who
cheat by pretending to find valuables in the street; and bubble-men, who iustitute sham
annuity offices or assurance companies ; and douceur-men, who cheat by pretending to get
government situations, or provide servants "with places, or to teU persons of something to
their advantage. (3.) The dependents of cheats; as "jollies" and "magsmen," or the
confederates of other cheats ; and " bonnets," or those who attend gaming tables ; and referees,
who give false characters to servants.
The last of the criminal classes are the thieves, who admit of being classified as fol¬
lows :—(1.) Those who plunder yñÜx violence ; as "cracksmen," who break into houses;
"rampsmen," who stop people on the highway; "bludgers" or "stick slingers," who rob
in company "with low women. (2.) Those who hocus or plunder persons by stupefying ; as
" drummers," who drug liquor ; and " bug-hunters," who plunder drunken men. (3.) Those
whoplimder by stealth, as (i.) "mobsmen," or those who plunder by manual dexterity, Mke
"buzzers," who pick gentlemen's pockets; ""wires," who pick ladies' pockets; "prop-nailere,"
who steal pins or brooches; and "thumble screwers," who "wrench off watches; and shoplifters,
who purloin goods from shops; (ü.) "sneaksmen," or petty cowardly thieves, and of these
there are two distinct varieties, according as they sneak off -with either goods or animals.
Belonging to the first variety, or those who sneak off "with goods, are "drag-sneaks," who make
off "with goods from carts or coaches; " snoozers," who sleep at railway hotels, and make off
with either apparel or luggage in the morning; "sa"wney-hunters," who purloin cheese or
bacon from cheesemongers' doors ; " noisy racket men," who make off "with china or crockery-
ware from earthenware shops; "snow-gatherers," who make off "with clean clothes from
hedges; "cat and kitten hunters," who make off-with quart or pint pots from area railings;
"area sneaks," who steal from the area; " dead-lurkers," who steal from the passages of
houses; "tul friskers," who make off "with the contents of tUls; "bluey-hunters," who
take lead from the tops of houses ; " toshers," who purloin copper from ships and along
shore; "star-glazers," who cut the panes of glass from -windows; "skinners," or women
and boys who strip children of their clothes ; and mudlarks, who steal pieces of rope, coal,
and wood from the barges at the wharves.
Those sneaks-men, on the other hand, who purloin animals, are either horse-stealers or
"wóoUy bird" (sheep) stealers, or deer-stealers, or dog-stealers, or poachers, or "lady and
gentlemen racket-men," who steal cocks and hens, or cat-stealers or body snatchers.
Then there is still another class of plunderers, who are neither sneaks-men nor mobs¬
men, but simply breach-of-trust-men, taking those articles nnly which have been confided
to them ; these are either embezzlers, who rob their employers ; or illegal pawnrás, who
THE COHTEASTS OF LOHDON.
47
pledge the blankets, &c., at their lodgings, or the work of their employers ; dishonest servants,
who go off with the plate, or let robbers into their master's houses, bill stealers, and letter
stealers.
Beside these there are (4) the " shoful-mm," or those who plimder by counterfeits ; as
coiners and forgers of checks, and notes, and wills ; and, lastly, we have (5) the dependents
of thieves; as "fences," or receivers of stolen goods; and "smashers," or the utterers of
base coin.
How, as regards the number of this extensive family of criminals, the return published
by the Constabulary Commissioners is still the best authority ; and, according to this, there
were in the Metropolis at the time of making the report, 107 burglars; 110 house¬
breakers; 38 highway robbers ; 773 pickpockets; 3,657 sneaks-men, or common thieves; 11
horse-stealers, and 141 dog-stealers ; 3 forgers; 28 coiners, and 317 utterers of base coin ;
141 swindlers or obtainers of goods under false pretences, and 182 cheats; 343 receivers of
stolen goods; 2,768 habitual rioters ; 1,205 vagrants; 50 begging letter writers ; 86 bearers
of begging letters, and 6,371 prostitutes; besides 470 not otherwise described: making alto¬
gether a total of 16,900 criminals known to the police; so that it would appear that one
in every hundred and forty of the London population belongs to the criminal class.
Further, the police returns tell us the total value of the property which this large section
of metropolitan society are known to make away with, amounts to very nearly £42,000 per
annum.
Thus, in the course of the year 1853, property to the amount of £2,854 was stolen by
burglary ; £135 by breaking into dwelling-houses ; and £143 by breaking into drops, &c. ;
£1,158 by embezzlement; £579 by.forgery; £1,615 by fraud; £46 by robbery on the
highway ; £250 by horse stealing ; and £104 by cattle stealing; £78 by dog stealing; £1,249
by stealing goods exposed for sale ; £413 stealing lead, &c., from unfurnished houses ;
£1597 by stealing from carts and carriages ; £122 by stealing linen exposed to dry ; £421
by stealing poultry from an outhouse ; £1,888 stolen from dwelling-houses by means of false
keys ; £2,936 by lodgers ; £8,866 by servants ; £4,500 by doors being left open ; £2,175 by
false messages ; £2,848 by lifting the window or breaking the glass ; £559 by entry through
the attic windows from an empty house; £795 by means unknown; £3,018 by picking
pockets ; £729 was taken from drunken persons ; £48 from children ; £2024 by prostitutes ;
£418 by larceny on the river—amounting altogether to £41,988; and this only in those
robberies which became known to the poHce.
How, as there is a market even for the rags gathered by the bone-grubber, so is there
an " exchange" for the articles collected by the thieves. This is the celebrated Petticoat
Lane, or Middlesex Street, as it is now styled, where the Jew fences most do congregate, and
where all manner of things are bought and no questions asked. Our picture of the contrasts
of London—of the extreme forms of metropolitan life—would be incomplete without the
following sketch of the place.
The antipodes to the fashionable world is Petticoat Lane, which is, as it were, the capital
of the «»fashionable empire—the metropolis of the las-ton. It is to the East End what
Eegent Street is to the "West.
Proceeding up the Lane from Aldgate, the locality seems to be hardly dififerent from
other byeways in the same district ; indeed it has much the character of the entry to Leather
Lane out of Holbom, being narrow and dark, and flanked by shops which evidently depend
little upon display for their trade. The small strip of roadway as you turn into the Lane
is generally blocked up by some costermonger's barrow, with its flat projecting tray on the
top, littered with little hard knubbly-looking pears, scarcely bigger than turnip-radishes,
and which is brought to a dead halt every dozen paces, while the corduroyed proprietor pauses
to tum round, and roar, " Sixteen a penny, lumping pears!"
Ab you worm your way along, you pass little slits of blind alleys, with old sheets and
48
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
patchwork counterpanes, like large fancy chess-boards, stretched to dry across the court, and
hanging so still and straight that you see at a glance how stagnant the air is in these
dismal quarters. The gutters are aU grey, and bubbling with soap-suds, and on the door¬
steps sit crouching flufify-haired women ; whilst at the entrance are clusters of sharp-featured
boys, some in men's coats, with the cuffs turned half-way up the sleeves, and the tails
trailing on the stones, and others with the end of their trousers roUed up, and the waist¬
bands braced with string high across their chests.
As you move by them, you see the pennies spin from the midst of them into the air, and
the eager young group suddenly draw back and peer intently on the ground, as the coins are
heard to jingle on the stones.
Up another alley you catch sight of some women engaged in scrubbing an old French
bedstead that stretches half across the court, while others are busy beating the coffee-
coloured mattress that leans against the waU, .previous to making its appearance at the
iumiture-stall above. In the opposite court may be seen a newly-opened barrel of pickled
herrings, with the slimy, metallic-looking fish ranged like a cockade within; and here
against the waU dangle the split bodies of drying &h—^hard-looking " finny-haddies"
(Finnan haddocks), brown and tarry-like as a sailor's " sou'-wester," and seeming as if
they were bats asleep, as they hang spread open in the dusky comers of the place.
A little higher up, the Lane appears to be devoted chiefiy to the preparation and sale of
such eatables as the Israelites generally delight in. Almost every other shop is an " establish¬
ment" for the cooking and distribution of fiied fish, the air around being redolent of the vapours
of hot oil ; and, as you pass on your way, you hear the flounders and soles fiizzing in the back
parlours, whilst hot-looking hook-nosed women rush out with smoking fiying-pans in their
hands, their aprons stained with grease almost äs if they were water-proofed with it, and
their cheeks red and shiny as tinsel-foil with the fire. The sloping shop-boards here are
covered with the dishes filled with the fresh-cooked fish, looking brown as the bottom of a
newly-sanded bird-cage ; by the side of these are ranged oyster-tubs filled with pickled cucum¬
bers, the soft, swollen vegetables floating in the vinegar like huge fat caterpülars.
Mingled with these are strange-looking butchers' shops, with small pieces of pale, blood¬
less meat dangling from the hooks, and each having a curious tin ticket, like a metallic cap¬
sule, fastened to it. This is the seal of the Rabbi, certifying that the animal was slaughtered
according to the Jewish rites ; and here are seen odd-looking Hebrew butchers and butcher-
boys, with their black, curly hair, greasier even than the locks of the Whitechapel Israelites
on a Saturday, and speckled with bits of suet. Their faces, too, appear, to eyes unused to the
sight, so unnaturally grim above their blue smocks, that they have very much the appear¬
ance of a small family of 0. Smiths costumed for the part in a piece of Adelphi cUablerie.
Nor are the bakers' shops in this locality of a less peculiar or striking cast; for here the
beads and eyebrows of the Hebrew master bakers are unnaturally white with the flour, and
give them the same grotesque look as would characterize a powdered Jew footman in the
upper circles ; while among the loaves and bags of flour in the shop, you often catch sight of
dusty, thin, passover biscuits, nearly as big as targets.
As you proceed up the Lane, the trade of the place assumes a totally diflferent character ;
(here the emporia of fried fish, and butcher's meat, and pickled cucumbers pass into petty
marts for old furniture and repositories of second-hand tools. Now, in front of one shop,
you see nothing but old foot-rules and long carpenters' planes, aR ranged in straight lines
and shiny and yellow with recent bees-wax. Behind the trellis of tools, too, you occasionally
catch sight of the figure of a man engaged in polishing-up the handle of an old centre-bit, or
scouring away at the rusty blade of some second-hand saw.
The pavement in front of the fumiture-shops is littered with old deal chairs and tables ;
and imitation chests of drawers with the fronts removed, and showing the coarse brown-
paper-like gg^Tfing of the doubled-up bed within ; and huge unwieldy sofas are there with a
kind of canvas tank sunk under the seat, and reminding one of those odd-looking carts in
CONVICTS EXERCISINO Aï PENTONVILLE PRISON.
THE COHTEASTS OF LOÎÎDOIÎ.
51
which tiie load is placed helow the axle of the wheels. As you pass along the line of
lumbered-up shops, you discover vistas of curious triangular cupboards ; bulky, square-looking
arm-chairs in their canvas undress ; narrow brown tables, with semicircular flaps hanging at
their sides, and quaint oval looking-glasses ; and yeUow-painted bamboo chtdrs, with the
rushes showing underneath, as ragged as an old fish-basket ; while the floor is encumbered
with feather beds, doubled up, and looking like lumps of dirty dough.
Adjoining the old fumiture-shops are second-hand clothes marts, with the entii-e fronts of
the shops covered outside with rows of old fiistian trousers, washed as white as the inside of
a fresh hide, and with tripey corduroys, and fluffy carpenters' flannel jackets ; the door-posts,
moreover, are decked with faded gaudy waistcoats, ornamented with fancy buttons, that
have much the appearance of small brandy-balls.
A few paces further on, you come to a hatter's, with the men at work in the shop, their
irons, heavy as the sole of a club-boot, standing on the counter by their side, and the place
filled with varnished brown paper hat-shapes, that seem as if they had been modelled in
hard-bake.
Nor are the Jewesses of Petticoat Lane the least remarkable of the characters appertaining
to the place. In front of almost every doorway is seated some fat Hebrew woman, with
gold ear-rings dangling by her neck, as big as a chandelier drop, and her fingers hooped with
thick gold rings. Some of the ladies are rubbing up old brass candlesticks, and some
scouring old tarnished tea-kettles, their hands and faces, amidst all their finery, begrimed
with dirt. In one part of the Lane, you behold one of the women with a bixnch of bright
blue artificial flowers in her cap, as big as the nosegays with which coachmen delight to
decorate their horses' heads on the 1st of May, busy extracting the grease from the collar of
a threadbare surtout; in another part you may perceive an Israelite maiden, almost as
grubby and tawdry as My Lady on May Day, engaged in the act of blacking a pair of high-
lows ; while at the door of some rag and bottle warehouse, where, from the poverty-stricken
aspect of the place, you would imagine that the people could hardly be one week's remove
from the workhouse, you see some grand lady with a lace-edged parasol in her white-
kidded hand, and a bright green and red cashmere shawl spread out over her back, taking
leave of her greasy-looking daughters, previous to emerging into all the elegancies of
Aldgate.
"Were it not for such curious sights as the above, it would be difficult to account for that
strange medley of want and luxury—^that incongruous association of the sale of jewellery and
artificial flowers, with that of old clothes, rags, and old metal, which constitutes, perhaps,
one of the most startling features of Petticoat Lane.
"How is it," the mind naturally inquires, "that, in a place where the people who come
to sell or buy are among the very poorest in the land, there can be the least demand for such
trumpery as rings, brooches, and artificial roses ? Does tfie bone-grubber who rummages
the muck-heaps for some bit of rag, or metal, that will help to bring bim a few pence at the
day's end—does he feast on fried fish and pickled cucumbers? Is he, poor wretch! who
cannot even get bread enough to stay his cravings, the purchaser of the hali^enny ices ? Are
the fetty cakes made for them who come here to sell the shirt off their backs for a meal ?"
Verily, the luxuries and the finery are not for such as these ; but for those who live, and
trade, and fatten upon the misery of the poor and the vice of the criminal.
If all the old rags and clothes, and tools and beds in Petticoat Lane, had tongues, what
stories of unknown sufferings or infatuate vice would they not tell ! In those old tool shops
alone what volumes of silent misery are there not contained ! They who know what a
ipechanic will suffer before he parts with the implements of his trade—who know how he
will pawn or sell every valuable, however useful, make away with every relic, however much
prized, before he is driven to dispose of those implements which are another pair of linn/lB to
him, and without which it is impossible for him to get either work or bread—^those who
4»
52
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOKDOJS".
know this, and know ftirther how a long illness, a fever, laying prostrate a working man's
whole family, and brought on, most probably, by living in some cheap, close, pent-up court, will
compel a poor fellow to part, bit by bit, with each little piece of property that he has accumu¬
lated out of his earnings when in health and strength—^how his watch, as well as the
humble trinkets of his wife, will go first to get the necessary food or physic for them all—
how the extra suit of Sunday elothes, and the one silk gown, and the thick warm shawl are
parted with next—^how, after this, the blankets and under-clothing of the wife and children
disappear, one by one, for though they shiver in the streets, at least no one sees how thinly
they are clad, or hwws how cold they lie at night—^how then the bedding is sold from imder
them to keep them a few days longer from the dreaded poor-house—and how, last of all,
when wife and children are stripped nearly naked, when the man has sold the shirt from
his back to stay the cravings of his little ones, when they have nothing but the boards to lie
upon—how then, and not till then, the planes and saws and centre-bits are disposed of, and
each with the same pang too, as if the right hand of the man was being cut from him—those,
we say, who know the sufferings which have preceded the sale of many of these implements
—^who know, too, the despair which fills the mind of a working man as he sees his only
means of independence wrested from him, wiU not pass the old tool shops in Petticoat Lane
idly by, but rather read in each wretched article some sad tale of humble misery.
Still all the tools are not there from such a cause ; no ! nor half of them; perhaps the greater
part would be found, if the matter were opened up, to have been disposed of for drink—^by
fatuous sots, who first swilled themselves out of work, and then guzzled away now a plane
and now a saw, raising first a glass on this to stay the trembUng of the hand in the morning,
and then a drop on that to keep down the " horrors"—^until at length nothing remained but
" the house," or street-cadging and lying, as the broken-down mechanic.
But are we all so immaculate that we have no sympathy but for the deserving poor. Is
our pity limited merely to those only who suffer the least, because they suffer with an
unaccusing conscience ; and must we entirely shut out from our commiseration the wretch
who is tormented not only with hunger, but with the self-reproaches of his own bosom.
Granting that this cast-iron philosophy is right and good for society, shall not the thought
of the suffering wife and children, even of the drunkard and the trickster, move us to the
least tenderness ?
" How long," the thoughtful traveller wiU wonder to himself, as he continues his journey
mournfully up the Lane, " did the family go without food before that bed was brought here for
sale ? Those fustian and flannel jackets, what sad privations were experienced by their former
owners, ere they were forced to take them off their backs to raise a meal ? What is the
wretched history of those foot-rules and chisels ? How long did the little ones starve before
that pair of baby's boots were stripped from the tiny feet and sold for a bite and a sup—ay, or
if you WÜ1, Mr. Puritan, for another glass of gin? Did the parting with those wedding
rings cost more or less agony of body ? Where is the owner of the little boots now ? In a
workhouse, or walking the streets with gayer boots than ever ?
" That silk pocket handkerchief, too—^the one in which we can just see where the mark
has been picked-from the comer—^what is the story in connection with it ? Is the lad who
stole it, and who sold it to the Jew there for not one-fourth the sum that it is now ticketed at
—^is he at the hulks yet ^ Was he one out of the many families that have been turned into
the streets, on the breaking up of the hundred homes to which these piles of old fumitui'e
belonged ? Or was he wilfully bad—one of those that Mr. Carlyle would have shot, and
swept into the dust bin."
Yonder, at the comer of one of the courts higher up the Lane, is a group of eager lads
peeping over the shoulders of one another, while one shows some silver spoons.
The Jew who buys them is a regular attendant at synagogue, and wears the laws of
Moses next his skin. But he asks no questions, and has a cmcible always ready on the fire.
THE LOHDOH STHEETS.
5-5
His daughters axe like Indian idols—all gold and dirt now, but next Saturday you shall see
them parading Aldgate in the highest style of fashion. The old man has no end of money
to leave Ruth and Rachel, when he dies and is gathered—as he Ju^es to be—to the bosom
of Abraham.
How, sapient reader, you can guess, perhaps, who it is that buys the artificial flowers, and
the fried fidi, and the jewellery that you see exposed among the old tools and clothes and
furniture in Petticoat Lane.
§ 6.
OP THE LONDON STREETS, THEIR TRAFFIC, NAMES, AND CHARACTER.
The thoroughfares^ of London constitute, assuredly, the finest and most remarkable of all
the sights that London contains. Hot that this is due to their architectural display, even
though at the "West End there are streets which are long lines of palaces—such as Pall Mall,
with its stately array of club-houses—and Regent Street, where the fronts of each distinct
block of buildings are united so as to form one imposing façade, and where every façade is
different, so that, as we walk along, a kind of architectural panorama glides before the eye—
and Belgravia and Tybumia, where the squares and terraces are vast palatial colonies. Hor
yet is it due to the magnificence of its shops—those crystal storehouses of which the sheets of
glass are like sheets of the clearest lake ice, both in their dimensions and transparency, and
gorgeous with the display of the richest products in the world. Hor yet, again, is it owing
to the capacious Docks at the East End of the Metropolis, where the surrounding streets have
all the nautical oddness of an amphibious Dutch town, from the mingling of the manv mast¬
heads with the chinmey-pots, and where the sense of the immensity of the aggregate
merchant-wealth is positively overpowering to contemplate. Heither is it owing to the
broad green parks, that are so many bright snatches of the country scattered round the
smoke-dried city, and where the verdure of the fields is rendered doubly grateful, not only
from their contrast with the dense rusty-red mass of bricks and mortar with which they are
encompassed, but from being vast aerial reservoirs—great sylvan tanks, as it were, of
oxygen—for the supply of health and spirits to the waUed-in multitude. But these sattia
London thoroughfares are, simply, the finest of all sights—^in the world, we may say—on
account of the never-ending and infinite variety of Ufe to be seen in them.
Beyond doubt, the enormous multitudes ever pouring through the principal metropolitan
thoroughfares strike the first deep impression upon the stranger's mind ; and we ourselves
never contemplate the tumultuous scene without feeling that here lies the true grandeur of
the Capital—the one distinctive mark that gives a special sublimity to the spot.
Travellers speak of the awful magnificence of the great torrent of Hiagara, where
thousands upon thousands of tons of liquid are ever pouring over the rocks in one immense,
terrific flood. But what is this in grandeur to the vast human tide—^the stupendous living
torrent of thousands upon thousands of restless souls, each quickened with some different
purpose, and for ever rushing along the great leading thoroughfares of the Metropolis ? what
the aggregate power of the greatest cataract in the world to the united might of the several
emotions and wills stirring each of the homimcular atoms composing that dense human
stream. And if the roar of the precipitated waters bewilders and aflErights the mind, assuredly
the riot and tumult of the traffic of London at once stun and terrify the brain of those who
hear it for the first time.
There is no scene in the wide world, indeed, equal in grandeur to the contemplation of
the immensity of this same London traffic. Can the masses of the pyramids impress the mipd
WKh such an overwhelming sense of labour and everlastingness as is inspired by the appa-
54
THE GREAT "WORLD OF LOITDOH
rently never-ending and never-tiring industry of the masses of people in our streets? If
the desert he the very intensity of the sublime from the feeling of tragic loneliness—of
terrible isolation that it induces—from the awful solemnity of the great ocean of desolation
encompassing the traveller ; surely this monster Metropolis is equally sublime, though from
the opposite cause—^from the sense of the infinite multitude of people with which we are
surrounded, and yet of our comparative, if not absolute, fiiendlessness and isolation in the
very midst of such an infinite multitude.
Is there any other sight in the Metropolis, moreover, so thoroughly Londonesque as this
is in its character ? Will our Law Courts, though justice be dispensed there with a fairness
and even mercy to the accused, that is utterly unknown in other lands, give the foreigner
as lively an idea of the genius of our people ? Will our Houses of Parliament, where the
policy of every new law is discussed by the national representatives with an honesty and
freedom impossible to be met with in the Chambers of other States, show him so much
of our character? Will the stranger be so astounded even at the internal economy of
our great newspaper printing-offices, where the intelligence of the enîire world is focussed,
as it were, into one enormous daily sheet, that is filled with finer essays than any to be found
in " the British Classics," and printed far more elegantly than library books on the Continent,
—even though the greater portion of the matter has been -written, and the million bits of
type composing it have been picked up, in the course of the preceding night ? Or -will our
leviathan breweries, or our races, or our cattle-shows, or cricket matches, or, indeed, any of
the institutions, or customs, or enterprises peculiar to the land, sink so deeply into the
stranger's mind as the contemplation of the several miles of crowd—the long and dense
commercial train of men and vehicles each day flooding the leading thoroughfares of this
giant city !
Let the visitor from some quiet country or foreign town behold the city at five in the day,
and see the people crowding the great lines of streets like a flock of sheep in a narrow lane ;
and the conveyances, too, packed full of human beings, and jammed as compactly together
as the stones on the pa-ring beneath, and find, moreover—go which way he will—the same
black multitude pervading the thoroughfares almost as far as he can travel before nightfall—
behold every one of the civic arteries leading to the mighty heart of London, charged with
its thousands of human globules, aU busy, as they circulate through them, sustaining the life
and energy and weU-being of the land ; and assuredly he wiU allow, that the world has no
wonder—amongst the whole of its far-famed seven—in the least comparable to this.
Let us now, however, descend to particulars, and endeavour to.set forth the actual
amount of traffic going on through the leading London thoroughfares.
By a return which was kindly furnished to us by Mr. Haywood, the City Surveyor, we
are enabled to come at this point -with greater accuracy than might be imagÎTiP«! The
return of which we speak was of a very elaborate character, and specified not only the total
number of vehicles drawn by one horse, as well as two, three, or more horses, that passed over
24 of the principal City thoroughfares in the course of twelve hours, but also set forth the
number of each kind of conveyance traversing the city for every hour throughout the day.
By means of this table, then, we find there are two tides, as it were, in the daily stream
of locomotion flowing through the city—^the one coming to its highest point at eleven in
the forenoon, up to which time the number of vehicles gradually increases, and so rapidly,
too, that there are very nearly twice as many conveyances in the streets at eleven, as there
are at nine o'clock in the morning. After eleven o'clock the tide of the traffic, however,
begins to ebb—-the number of carriages gradually decreasing, till two in the afternoon, when
there is one-sixth less vehicles in the leading thoroughfares than at eleven. After two, again,
another change occurs, and the crowd of conveyances continues to increase in number till five
o'clock, when there are a few hundreds more collected within the citv boundaries than there
THE lOITOOH STREETS.
55
were at deven. Añer.five, the locomotive current ehbs once more, and does noi attain its
next flood until eleven the next day.
Now, by this return it is shown, that the gross number of vehicles passing along the City
thoroughfares, in the course of twelve hours, ordinarily amounts to one-eighth of a million,
or upwards of 125,000.* But many of these, it should be added, are reckoned more than once
in the statement ; if, however, we sum up only the number appearing in the distinct lines of
thoroughfares—like Holbom, Fleet Street, LeadenhaU Street, Blackfriars Bridge, Bishopsgate
Street, Finsbury Pavement, &c.—the amount of city traffic, wül even then reach nearly
60,000 vehicles, passing and re-passing through the streets every day.
Now, that this estimate is not very wide of the truth, is proven by the fact, that there
are no less than 3000 cabs plying in London streets ; nearly 1000 omnibuses ; and more than
10,000 private and job carriages and carts, belonging to various individuals throughout the
Metropolis (as is shown by the returns of the Stamp and Tax Office). Moreover, it is
calculated, that some 3000 conveyances enter the Metropolis daily from the surrounding
country ; whilst the amount of mileage duty paid by the Metropolitan Stage Carriages, id
the year 1853, prove that the united London omnibuses and short stages must have travelled
over not less than 21,800,000 miles of ground in the course of that year—a distance which is
very nearly equal to one-fourth that of the earth from the sun !
Hence, it will appear that the above estimate, as to the number'of vehicles passing and
repassing through the City streets every day, does not exceed the bounds of reason.
But the thoroughfares within the City boundaries are not one-thirtieth of the length of
those without them ; and as there are two distinct lines of streets, traversing London from
east to west, each six miles long, and at least four distinct highways, stretching north and
south, each four miles in length at least ; whilst along each and all of these a dense stream
of foot, passengers and conveyances is maintained throughout the day; it will therefore be
found, by calculation, that at five o'clock, when almost every one of these thoroughfares may
be said to be positively crowded with the traffic, that there is a dense stream of omnibuses,
cabs, carts, and carriages, as well as foot passengers, flowing through London at one and the
same time, that is near upon 30 miles long altogether !
"We have before spoken of the prodigious length of the aggregate streets and lanes of the
Metropolis, and a peep at the balloon map of Londonf will convince the stranger what a
tangled knot of highways and byeways is the town. A plexus of nerves or capillary vessels is
• The following are the data for the above statement :—
betuhn, showino the totai. number of vehicles i^assino
in the course of twelve hours
mine a.m. to nine p.m.) through the frincifal streets of the city of london.
Lower Thames Street, by Botolph Lane
Threadneedle Street
Lombard Street, by Birchin Lane
Upper Thames Street (in rear of Queen Street)
Aldersgate Street, by Fann Street
Tower Street, by Mark Lane
Smithfield Bars 3,108
Fencburch Street 8,642
Eastcheap, by Philpot Lane
Bishopsgate Street Without, by City boun¬
dary
Finsbury Pavement, by South Place .
Aldgate High Street, by City boundary
Bishopsgate Street Within, by Great St.
Helen's
1,380
2,150
2,228
2,331
2,590
2,890
4,102
4,110
4,460
4,754
4,842
Graoechuroh Street, by St. Peter's Alley .
Cornhill, by the Boyal Exchange
Blackfriars Bridge
LeadenhaU Street, in rear of the East India
House ... ...
Newgate Street, by Old Bailey .
Ludgate Hill, by Pilgrim Street
Holbom Hill, by St. Andrew's Church
Temple Bar Gate
Poultry, by the Mansion House .
Cheapside, by Foster Lane
London Bridge
Total .
(from
4,887
4,916
5,262
5,930
6,375
6,829
6,906
7,741
10,274
11,053
13,099
125,859
T An exeeUent map of the kind above specified is pubUshed by Appleyard and HetUng of Farringdon
Street, and it will be found to be more easUy comprehensible to strangers than the ordinary ground-plans of
the London streets.
56
THE GREAT -WORLD OF LONDOR.
not more intricate than they. As well might we seek to find order and systematic arrange*
ment among a ball of worms as in that conglomeration of thoroughfares constituting the
British Metropolis.
"I began to study the Map of London," says Southey, in his Espriella's Letters, "though
dismayed at the sight of its prodigious extent. The river is of no assistance to a stranger in
finding his way; there is no street along its banks; nor is there any eminence whence you can
look around and take your bearings."
But the nomenclature of the London streets is about as unsystematic as is the general plan
of the thoroughfares, and cannot but be extremely puzzling to the stranger. Every one knows
how the Frenchman was perplexed with the hundred significations given to the English term
" box"—such as band-box, Christmas-box, coach-box, box on the ears, shooting-box, box-tree,
private box, the wrong box, boxing the compass, and a boxing match. And, assuredly,
he must be equally bothered on finding the same name applied to some score or two of
dilFerent thoroughfares, that are often so far apart, that, if he happen to be the bearer of a
letter of introduction with the address of "King Street, London," the unhappy wight would
probably be driven about from district to district—from King Street, Golden Square, maybe,
to King street, Cheapside, and then back again to King Street, Covent Garden—and so on
until he had tried the whole of the forty-two King Streets that are now set down in the
Post-office Directory.
^ i. Of the Nomenclature of the London Streets.
A painstaking friend of ours has, at our request, been at the trouble of classifying the
various thoroughfares of London, and he finds that of the streets, squares, terraces, &c.,
bearing a loyal title, there are no less than seventy-three christened King, seventy-eight
Queen, forty-two called Prince's, and four Princess's; twenty-six styled Duke, one Duchess,
and twenty-eight having the title-of Regent; while there are thirty-one Cro-ïvn Streets, or
Courts, and one Regina ViUa.
Then many thoroughfares are named after the titles of nolles. Thus there are no less than
eighty-nine localities called York, after the Duke of ditto ; fifty-eight entitled Gloucester ;
forty-four Brunswick, in honour of that " house ;" thirty-nine Bedford, thirty-five Devon¬
shire, thirty-six Portland, thirty-four Cambridge, twenty-eight Lansdowne, twenty-seven
Montague, twenty-six Cumberland, twenty-two Claremont and Clarence, twenty Clarendon,
twenty-three Russell, twenty-one Norfolk—^besides many other highways or byeways styled
Cavendish, or Cecil, or Buckingham, or Northumberland, or Stanhope.
Next, in illustration of the principle of hero-worship, there are fifty-two thoroughfares
caRed after Wellington, twenty-nine after Marlborough, and eleven after Nelson; there are,
moreover, twenty styled Waterloo, and fifteen Trafalgar, thirteen Blenheim, one Boyne,
and three Navarino; whilst, in honour of Prime Ministers, there are six localities caUed after
Pitt, two after Fox, and three after Canning; in celebration of Lord ChanceUors, five are ^^aTnP(^
Eldon ; for Politicians, one Place is styled Cobden, and two streets Burdett ; and to commemo¬
rate the name of great poets and philosophers, there is one Shakespeare's Walk (at Shadwell),
one Ben Jonson's Fields, eight Milton Streets, and seven thoroughfares bearing the name of
Addison, and one that of Cato.
Of the number of thoroughfares caUed by simple Christian names, the following are
the principal examples :—There are fifty-eight localities known as George, forty christened
Victoria, forty-three Albert, and eight Adelaide. Then there are forty-seven Johns, forty-
nine Charleses, thirty-five Jameses, thirty-three Edwards, thirty Alfreds, twenty Charlottes,
and the same number of Elizabeths and Fredericks, together with a um all number of
Roberts, and Anns, and Peters, and Pauls, and Adams, and Amelias, and Marys, beside
eight King Edwards, two King Williams, one King John, and one King Henry.
THE LOin)OH STEEETS.
57
Many streets, on the other hand, bear the surnames of their builders or landlords ; and,
accordingly, we have several thoroughfares rejoicing in the illustrious names of Smith or
Baher, or Newman, or Perry, or Nicholas, or Milman, or "Warren, or Leigh, or Beaufoy, and
indeed one locality bearing the euphonious title of Bugsby's Eeach.
Beligious titles, again, are not rmcommon. Not only have we the celebrated Paternoster
Eow, and Ave-Maria Lane, and Amen Comer, and Adam and Eve Court, but there are All
Hallows Chambers, and a number of Providence Eows and Streets. Moreover, there is a
large family called either Church or Chapel, besides a Bishop's Walk, a Dean's Yard, and
a Mitre Court, together with not a few christened College or Abbey ; whilst there is à
Tabernacle Row, Square, and Walk, as well as a weU-known Worship Street, and no less
than twenty distinct places beariug the name of Trinity, as well as two large districts styled
l^ßiitefriars and Blackfiiars, and a bevy of streets called añer the entire calendar of Saints,
together with a posse of Angel Courts and Lanes.
Other places, on the contrary, delight in Pagan titles; for in the suburbs we find two
Neptune Streets, four Minerva Terraces, two Apollo Buildings, one Diana Place, a Hermes
Street, and a Hercules Passage ; besides several streets dedicated to England's mythological
patroness, Britannia, and some half-dozen roads, or cottages, or places, glorying in the title
of the imaginaiy Scotch goddess, Caledonia. The same patriotic spirit seems to make the
name of Albion very popular among the godfathers or godmothers of thoroughfares, for
there are no less than some fifty buildings, chambers, cottages, groves, mews, squares, &c.,
rejoicing in the national cognomen.
Eurther, there is a large number of astronomicaUy-named highways, such as those called
Sun Street or Sols' Eow, or Half-Moon Street, or Star Alley, or Comer. And, again, we have
many of an aquatic tum, as witness the Thames Streets and River Terraces, and Brook
Streets, and WeUs Streets, and Water Lanes—ay, and one Ocean Eow.
Others delight in zoological titles, such as Pish Street, Elephant Gardens, or Stairs, Cow
Lane, Lamb Alley, and Bear Street, as well as Duck Lane, and Drake Street, and Raven Eow,
and Dove Court, with many Swan Streets and Lanes and Alleys, and Eagle Streets, and
Swallow Streets, and one Sparrow Comer. In the same category, too, we must class the
thoroughfares christened after fabulous monsters, such as the Red Lion and "White Lion
Streets, the Mermaid Courts, and Phoenix Places and Wharves.
In addition to these must be mentioned the gastronomical localities, such as Milk Street,
Beer Street, Bread Street, Pine-Apple Place, Sugar-Loaf Court, and Vinegar Yard ; and the
old Pie Lane, and Pudding Comer; besides Orange Street, and Lemon Street, and the
horticultural Pear-Trce Court, Fig-Tree ditto, Cherry-Tree Lane, and Walnut-Tree Walk.
Others, again, have lotanical names given to them : thus, there are ten Rose Villas,
Terraces, Lanes, or Courts ; nine HoUy ditto ; seven Ivy Cottages or Places ; one Lüy
Terrace ; two Woodbine Villas; the same number of Pir Groves; a Lavender Hill and Place;
twelve Willow Walks and Cottages, besides three Acacia and Avenue Roads or Gardens; one
Coppice Row ; and no less than fifty-four Cottages, or Crescents, or Parks styled Grove—
though mostly all are as leafless as boot-trees.
A large number of thoroughfares, on the other hand, are called after their size or sha^e ;
Thus there are twenty-three Streets, Courts, Pavements, Walls, and Ways styled Broad;
but only three Streets called Narrow. There are, however, six Acres, Alleys, or Lanes
called Long ; and an equal number of Buildings denominated Short. Then we have as
many as thirty-five styled High, four called Back, and the same number bearing the oppo¬
site title of Pore ; whilst there are no less than ten Rows denominated Middle, and twenty
Courts, Lanes, &c. christened Cross, as well as one dubbed Tumagain. In addition to these
there are three Ovals, four Triangles, two Polygons, and one Quadrant ; besides an innu¬
merable quantity of Squares, Circuses, and Crescents.
Some places, on tho other hand, appear to have ekromatio names, though this ames from
«8
THE GEEAT VOELD OE lONDOH.
the pigmentary patronymics of their original landlords. Hence there are sixteen thorough'
fares called Green, two White, and one Grey.
Furiher, we have a considerable quantity named after the cardinal pointa of the compass,
there being as many as forty-eight denominated North, not a few of which lie in a wholly
different direction, and forty-four bearing the title of South ; whilst there are twenty-nine
nicknamed East, and an equal number West; but only one styled North-East.
In the suburbs the topographical titles are often of a laudatory character, and generaEy
eulogistic of the view that was (originally, perhaps,) to be obtained from the Buildings, or
Crescent, or Cottages, or Eow, to which the inviting title has been applied. Accordingly we
find that there are twenty-four Prospect Cottages and Places ; four BeUe-Vues, and a like
number of Bel videros; whilst there is one Pair-View Place; besides nearly a score of
Pleasant Places, four Mount Pleasants, sixteen Paradise Terraces or Cottages, and six
Paragon Villas or Eows.
Others, still, are christened after particular trades. Thus, the Butchers have two Eows
called after them ; the Pishmongers two Alleys ; the Dyers, three Courts or Buildings ; the
Barbers, one Yard; the Sadlers, three Buildings or Places; the Stonecutters, one Street; the
Potters, a few Pields; the Weavers, two Streets; the Ironmongers, one Lane; and the
Eopemakers, one Walk ; whilst there are no less than thirty-three thoroughfares having the
general title of Commercial. Purther, in honour of the Bootmakers, there is one Place styled
Crispin, one Lane called Shoe, and one Street bearing the name of Boot—^besides a Petticoat
Lane in honour of the ladies, and, for the poorer classes, a Eag Pair.
Then, of thoroughfares named after materials, there are eight Wood Streets, one Stone
Buildings, one Iron and one Golden Square, seven Silver Streets, and two Diamond Eows.
Lastly, there is a large class of streets called after some pdhlk place near which they are
situate. Por instance, there are just upon one hundred localities having the prefix Park, and
thirty-seven entitled Bridge, nineteen are called Market, twelve styled Palace, foiirteen
Castle, nine Tower, two Parliament, two Asylum, three Spital (the short for Hospital), one
Museum, four Custom House, and a like number Charter House ; but as yet there exist only
two Railway Places, and one Tunnel Square.
Nor would the catalogue be complete if we omitted to emunerate the London SiUs, such
as Snow, Com, Ludgate, Holbom, Primrose, Saffron, and Mutton; or the streets named after
the ancient Gates, as Newgate, Ludgate, Aldgate, Aldersgate, Bishopsgate, and Moorgate ; or
those cosmopolitan thoroughfares dubbed Portugal Street, Sp,anish Place, America Square,
Greek Street, Turk's Eow, Denmark Hill, and Copenhagen Pields, not forgetting the ancient
Petty Prance and the modem Little Britain.
^ ii. Character of the London Streets.
The physiognomy of the metropolitan thoroughfares is well worthy of the study of some civic
Lavater. The finely-chiselled features of an English aristocrat, are not more distinct from
the common coimtenance of a Common Councilman, than is the stately Belgravian square from
its vulgar brother in Barbican ; and as there exists in society a medium class of people,
between the noble and the citizen, who may be regarded as the patterns of ostensible
respectability among us, such as bankers, lawyers, and physicians ; so have we in London
a class of respectable localities, whose architecture is not only as prim as the silver hair, or
as cold-looking as the bald head, which is so distinctive of the ' ' genteel" types above specified ;
hut it is as different from the omate and stately character of the buildings about the parks as
they, on the other hand, differ from the heavy and mddy look of the City squares ; for
what the Belgravian districts are in their "btiild" to the Bedfordian, and the B^ordian again
to the Towerian, so is there the same ratio in social rank and character among nobles, pro¬
fessional gentry, and citizens.
THE LOHDOH STEEETS
09
Again, the very eaat-end of the town, such as Bethnal green, is as marked in the cut of its
hricks and mortar—^in the " long lights" of the weavers' houses about Spitalfields, and the
latticed pigeon-house, surmounting almost every roof—as is May Pair from Rag Fair; and so
striking is this physiognomical expression—the different cast of countenance, as it were—in
the houses of the several localities inhabited by the various grades of society^ that to him
who knows London well, a walk through its divers districts is as peculiar as a geographical
excuraion through the multiform regions of the globe.
Stroll through the streets, for instance, that constitute the environs of Fitzroy Square, and
surely it needs not brass cards upon the doors to say that this is the artistic quarter of London.
Notice the high window in the middle of the first floor, the shutters closed in the day time at
all but the upper part of the casement, so as to give a " top Hght." See, too, the cobwebby
window panes and the flat sticks of the old-fashioned parlour blinds leaning different ways—
ail betokening the residence of one who hardly belongs to the well-to-do classes. Observe,
as you continue your walk, the group of artists' colour-men's shops, with the boxes of
moist colours in the windows, and some large brown photographs, or water-colour drawings
exposed for sale; and mark, in another street hard by, the warehouses of plaster casts,
where you see bits of arms, or isolated hands, modelled in whiting ; and chalk figures of
horses, with all the muscles showing. After this, the mind's eye that cannot, at a
glance, detect that hereabouts dwell the gentry who indulge in odd beards and hats, and
delight in a picturesque "make-up," must need some intellectual spectacles to aid its
perception.
Travel then across Regent Street to SaviUe Row, and, if you be there about noon, it will
not be necessary to read the small brass tablets graven with "Nighi-bell," to leam that
here some renowned physician or surgeon dwells in every other house; for you wül see a
seedy carriage, with fagged-looking horses, waiting at nearly aU the thresholds, and pale
people, with black patches of respirators over their mouths, in the act of leaving or entering
the premises ; so that you wUl readily discover that the gentry frequenting this locality are
about to hurry round the Metropolis, and feel some score of pulses, and look at some score of
tongues, at the rate of ten guineas per hour.
Next wend yoiir way to Chancery Lane, and give heed to the black-coated gentry, with
bundles of papers tied with red-tape in their hands, the door-posts striped with a small
catalogue of names, the street-doors set wide open, and individuals in black clerical-looking
gowns and powdered coachmen-like wigs, tripping along the pavement towards the Courts ; and
stationers' shops, in which hang legal almanacs, and skins of parchment, as greasy-looking as
tracing-paper, with " this indenture" flourished in the comer, and law lists bound in
bright red leather, and law books in sleek yellow calf. Note, too, the furniture shops, with
leathem-topped writing-tables and pigeon-holes, and what-nots for papers, and square
piles of drawers, and huge iron safes and japanned tin boxes, that seem ^ if they had had a
coat of raspberry jam by way of paint, against which the boys had been dabbing their fingers—
aU which, of course, wiU apprise you that you are in the legal quarter of the town.
Then, how different the squares in the different parts of London—the squares which are
so purely national—so utterly unlike your foreign "place," or "platz," that bare paved or
gravelled space, with nothing but a fountain, a statue, or column, in the centre of it. True,
the trees may grow as black in London as human beings at the tropics ; but still there is the
broad carpet of green sward in the centre, and occasionally the patches of bright-coloured
flowers that speak of the English love of gardening—^the Londoner's craving for country life.
What a distinctive air, we repeat, have the fashionable West End squares ; how
different from the " genteel" affairs in the northem districts of the Metropolis, as well as
from the odd and desolate places in the City, or the obsolete and antiquated spots on the
south side of Holbom and Oxford Ötreet—^like Leicester and Soho.
60
TKE ÖEEAT "WOKLD OF LONDON.
How Bpacious are the handsome old mansions around Grosvenor Square, with their quoins,
windows, and door-cases of stone, bordering the sombre "rubbed" brick fronts. In France
or Germany such enormous buildings would have a different noble family lodging on every
"flat." The inclosure, too, is a small park, or palace garden, rather than the paved
court-yard of foreign places.
Then there is Grosvenor's twin brother, Portman Square, where the houses are, aH but
as imposing in appearance—and St. James's Square—and Berkeley—and Cavendish—and
Hanover—and Manchester—with the still more stately and gorgeous Belgrave and Eaton
Squares.
Next to these rank the respectable and genteel squares, such as Montague, and Bryan-
stone, and Connaught, and Cadogan, at the West End, and Fitzroy, and EusseU, and
Bedford, and Bloomsbury, and Tavistock, and Toriington, and Gordon, and Euston, and
Mecklenburg, and Brunswick, and Queen's, and Finsbury—all lying in that district east of
Tottenham Court Eoad which was the celebrated terra incognita of John Wilson Croker.
After these come the City squares—those intensely quiet places immured in the very
centre of London, which seem as still and desolate as cloisters ; and where the desire for peace
is so strong upon the inhabitants, that there is generally a liveried street-keeper or beadle
maintained to cane off the boys, as weU as dispel the flock of organ-grinders and Punch-
and-Judy men, and acrobats, who would look upon the tranquillity of the place as a mÍTift of
wealth to them. To this class belong Devonshire Square, Bishopsgate ; Bridgewater Square,
Barbican; America Square,.Minories; WeUclose Square, London Docks; Trinity Square,
Tower; Nelson Square, Blackfriars; Warwick Square, Newgate Street; and Gough and
Salisbury Squares, Fleet Street; though many of these are but the mere bald "places" of
the continent.
Further, we have the obsolete, or "used up" old squares, that lie south of Oxford
Street and Holbom, and east of Eegent Street, and which have mostly passed from fashion¬
able residences into mere quadrangles, full of shops, or hotels, or exldbitions, or chambers;
such are the squares of Soho, Leicester, Golden, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, and even Covent
Garden.
And, lastly, we have the pretentious pa/rvenu-\ikß suburban squares, such as Thurlow and
Trevor, by Brompton ; and Sloane, by Chelsea ; and Edwardes, by Kensington ; and Oakley,
by Camden Town ; and Holford and Claremont Squarts, by PentonviUe ; and TsliTigfnTi
Square; and Green Arbour Square, by Stepney; and Surrey Square, by the Old Kent Eoad;
and the Oval, by Keimington.
In fine, there are now upwards of one huncLred squares distributed throughout London,
and these are generaEy in such extreme favour among the surrounding inhabitants,
they are each regarded as the headquarters of the élite of the district by all aspirants for
fashionable distinction ; so that the pretentious traders of Gower Street and the like, instead
of writing down their address as Gower Street, Tottenham Court Eoad, love to exaggerate it
into Gower Street, Bedford Square.
Of streets, again, we find the same distinctive classes as of the squares. There are, first,
the fashionable streets, such as Arlington Street St. James's, and Park Lane, and Portland
Place, and Eichmond and Carlton Terraces, and Privy Gardens.
Then come the respectable or "genteel" thoroughfares of Clarges Street, and Harley
Street, and Gloucester Place, and Wobum Place, and Keppel Street, &c.
After these we have the lodging-house localities, comprised in the several streets running
out of the Strand.
Moreover, mention must be made of the distinctive streets, and narrow commercial lanes,
crowding about the bank, where the houses are as full of merchants and clerks as a low
lodging-house is full of tramps.
THE LOHDOH STEEETS.
61
Eurther, there are the streets and districts for particular trades, as Long Acre, where the
carriage-makers abound ; and Lombard Street, where the bankers loye to congregate ; and
derkenwell, the district for the watch-makers ; and Hatten Garden for the Italian glass-
blowers; and the Borough for the hatters; Bermondsey for the tanners; Lambeth for the potters;
and Spitalfields for weavers ; and Catherine Street for the newsvendors ; and Paternoster Eow
for the booksellers ; and the Hew Eoad for the zinc-workers : and Lower Thames Street for
the merchants in oranges and foreign fruits ; and Mincing Lane for the wholesale grocers ;
and Holywell Street and Eosemary Lane for old clothes ; and so on.
Again, one of the most distinctive quartersabout Londonism the neighbourhood of theDocks.
The streets themselves in this locality have all, more or less, a maritime character; every
other store is either stocked with gear for the ship or the sailor ; and the front of many a shop is
filled with quadrants and bright brass sextants, chronometers, and ships' binnacles, with their
compass cards trembling with the motion of the cabs and waggons passing in the street, whilst
over the doorway is fixed a huge figure of a naval officer in a cocked hat, taking a perpetual sight
at the people in the first-floor on the opposite side of the way. Then come the sailors' cheap
shoe marts, rejoicing iu the attractive sign of " Jack and his Mother ;" every public house,
too, is a " JoUy Jack Tar," or something equally taking, and there are "Pree Concerts" at the
back of every bar. Here, also, the sailmakers' shops abound, with their windows stowed with
ropes, and smelling of tar as you pass them. All the neighbouring grocers are provision agents,
and exhibit in their windows tin cases of meat and biscuits, and every article is " warranted
to keep in any climate." The comers of the streets, moreover, are mostly monopolized by
slopsellers, their windows parti-coloured with the bright red and blue flannel shirts, and the
doors nearly blocked up with hammocks and well-oiled nor'-westers; whilst the front of the
house itself is half covered with canvas trousers, rough pilot-coats, and shinny black dread¬
noughts. The foot-passengers alone would tell you that you were in the maritime district
of London, for you pass now a satin waistcoated mate, and now a black sailor with a large fur
cap on his head, and then a custom-house officer in his brass-buttoned jacket.
Hor would this account of the peculiarities of the London streets be complete if we
omitted to mention the large body of people who derive their living from exercising some
art or craft, or of carrying on some trade in them. This portion of people are generally
to be seen in the greatest numbers at the London Street Markets of a Saturday night, and a
more peculiar sight is not to be witnessed in any other capital of the world.
It is at these street markets that many of the working classes purchase their Sunday's
dinner, and after pay-time on a Saturday night, the crowd in some parts is almost impassable.
Indeed, the scene at such places has more the character of a fair than a market. There are
hundreds of stalls, and every stall has its one or two lights ; either it is illuminated by the
intense white light of the .new self-generating gas lamp, or else it is brightened up by the
red smoky flame of the old-fashioned grease lamp. One man shows off his yellow haddocks
with a candle stuck in a bundle of firewood ; his neighbours make a candlestick of a huge
turnip, and the tallow gutters over its sides; 'whilst the boy shouting, "Eight a penny,
stunning pears!" has surrounded his " dip" with a thick roll of brown paper that flares away
in the wind. Some stalls are crimsom, with the fire shining through the holes beneath the
baked chestnut stove ; others have handsome octohedral lamps ; while a few have a candle
shining through a sieve ; these, with the sparkling ground-glass globes of the tea-dealers'
shops, and the butchers' gas-lights streaming and fluttering in the wind like flags of flame,
pour forth such a flood of light, that at a distance the atmosphere immediately above the spot
is as lurid as if the street were on fire.
The pavement and the road are crowded with purchasers and street seEers. The house-
infe in a thick shawl, with the market-basket on her arm, walks slowly on, stopping now
to look at the stall of caps, and now to cheapen a bunch of greens. Little boys holding three
62
THE GBEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
or four onions in their hand, creep between the people, wriggling their way through every
interstice in the crowd, and asking for custom in whining tones as if seeking charity.
Then the tumult of the thousand cries of the eager dealers, all shouting at the top
of their voices at one and the same time, is almost bewildering. "So-old again!" roars
one. " Chesnuts, all ott!—A penny a score!" bawls another. "An aypenny a skin,
blacking!" shrieks a boy. "Buy, buy, buy, buy, buy,—^bu-u-wy!" jabbers the butcher.
" Half-a-quire of paper for a penny !" bellows the street stationer. "An aypenny a lot,
inguns!" " Tuppence a pound, grapes ! " "Three-a-penny, Yarmouth bloaters!" "Who'll
buy a bonnet for fourpence ? " "Kck 'em out cheap, here ! three pair for an aypenny, boot¬
laces." " Now's your time ! beautiM whelks, a penny a lot ! " " Here's ha-p-orths ! "
shouts the perambulating confectioner. " Come and look at e'm !—aprime toasters !" bellows one
with a Yarmouth bloater stuck on a toasting fork. " Penny a lot, fine russets—^penny alot!"
calls the apple woman. And so the Babel goes on.
One man stands with his red-edged mats hanging over his back and chest like a herald's
coat ; and the girl, with her basket of walnuts, lifts her brown-stained fingers to her mouth,
as she screams, " Fine wamuts ! sixteen a penny, fine war-r-nuts ! " At one of the neigh¬
bouring shops, a boot-maker, to attract custom, has illuminated his shop-firont with a line of
gas, and in its full glare stands a blind beggar, his eyes turned up so as to show only the
whites, and mumbling some begging rhymes, that are drowned in the shrill notes of the
player on the bamboo-flute, next to him. The boys' sharp shoutings ; the women's cracked
voices ; the gruff hoarse roar of the men—are all mingled together. Sometimes an Irishman
is heard, with his cry of " Fine 'ating apples!" or else the jingling music of an imseen organ
breaks out as the trio of street singers rest between the verses.
Then the sights, as you elbow your way through the crowd, are equally multifarious.
Here is a stall glittering with new tin saucepans ; there another, bright with its blue and
yellow crockery and sparkling white glass. How you come to a row of old shoes, arranged
along the pavement ; now to a stand of gaudy tea-trays j then to a shop, with red hand¬
kerchiefs and blue checked shirts, fluttering backwards and forwards, and a temporary counter
built up on the kerb, behind which shop-boys are beseeching custom. At the door of a
tea-shop, with its hundreds of white globes of light, stands a man delivering liilla,
" thanking the public for past favours and defying competition." Here, alongside the road,
are some half-dozen headless tailors' dummies, dressed in Chesterfields and fustian jackets, each
labelled, " Look at the Peices," or " Observe the Quamtt." Hext, we pass a butcher's
shop, crimson and white, with the meat piled up to the first-floor ; in front of which, the
butcher himself, in his blue coat, walks up and down sharpening his knife on the steel that
hangs to his waist, saying to each woman as she passes, ""What can I do for you, my dear ? "
A little farther on, stands the clean family begging ; the father, with his head down, as if
ashamed to be seen, and a box of lucifers held forth in his hand ; the boys, in newly-worked
pinafores, and the tidily got-up mother, with a child at her breast.
One stall is green and white with bunches of turnips—another red with apples ; the
next yellow with onions ; and the one after that pujq)le with pickling cabbages. One
minute you pass a man with an umbrella turned inside upwards, and ftdl of prints. The
next moment you hear a feUow with a peep-show of Mazeppa, and Paul Jones the pirate,
describing the pictures to the crowd of boys as some of them spy in at the little round
windows. Then you are startled by the sharp snap of percussion caps firom the crowd of
lads, firing at the target for nuts, at the comer of the street ; and the minute afterwards
you see a black man clad in thin white garments, and shivering in the cold, with tracts in
his hand, or else you hear the sounds of music frrom " Frazier's Circus," on the other side
of the road, and the man outside the door of the penny concert beseeching the passers-by to
" he in time ! be in time !" as Mr. Somebody is just about to sing his frivourite song of
" The Knife-grinder."
THE LONDON STENETS.
63
Such, indeed, is fhe tiot, the struggle, aud the scramble for a living, that the confosion
and uproar of the London Street Market on Saturday night have a bewildering and half-
■addening effect upon the thoughtful mind.
Each salesman tries his utmost to sell his wares, tempting the passers-by with his bargains,
ïh& boy with his stock of herbs, offers a " double 'andful of fine parsley for a penny." The
man with the donkey-cart filled -with turnips, has three lads to shout for him to their
utmost, with their " Ho ! ho ! hi-i-i ! What do you tbink of this here ? A penny a bunch !
■>—a penny a bunch ! Hurrah for free trade ! Here's your turnips !"
Until the scene and tumult are witnessed and heard, it is impossible to have a sense of
^he scramble that is going on throughout London for a living—the shouting and the
struggling of hundreds to get the penny profit out of the poor man's Sundays dinner.
64
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
00k t\t ¿kú.
—♦—
PROFESSIONAL LONDON.
We now pass from our general surrey of the Metropolis, to consider its several parts ix
detail. For as geographers usually prefix to their Atlases a map of the northern and
southern hemispheres of the globe, so have we, in this our literary Atlas of the World at
London, first laid down a chart of the two opposite spheres of metropolitan society—^the very
rich and the very poor—a kind of Mercator's plan, as it were, wherein the antipodes |of
London life are brought under one view.
This done, however, we now proceed, in due geographical order, to deal seriatim wifli
each of the quarters of the Metropolitan World.
And first of Professional London.
Professional London, we consider to include that portion of metropolitan society of whidk
the members follow some intellectual calling—^living by mental, rather than manual dexterity;
that is to say, deriving their income from the exercise of talent rather than sMU. For the
members of every profession must he more or less talented, even as every handicraftsman
must be more or less skilful ; and as the working engineer acquires, by practice, a certain
expertness in the use of his fingers, so the member of a profession learns, by education, ia
certain quickness of perception and soimdness of judgment in connection with the mattács
to which he attends ; and thus people, lacking the faculty which he possesses, are glad to
avail themselves of his services in that respect.
According to the above definition, the members of the professions are not limited merely
to lawyers, doctors, and clergymen, hut include also professors, teachers, scientific men,
authors, artists, musicians, actors—^indeed all who live " by their wits," as the opprobrious
phrase runs, as if it were a dishonour for a person to gain a livelihood by the exercise of
his intellect ; and the judge did not depend upon his mental faculties for his subsistence, as
much as the chevalier d'indmtrie whom he tries.
The professional or intellectual class is not a large one, even when thus extended beyond
its usual limited signification; for in all Great Britain there are, in round numbers, only
230,000 people gaining a subsistence by their talents, out of a population of very nearly 21
millions ; and this is barely a ninetieth part of the whole.
Altogether, there are throughout England, Wales, and Scotland, 80,047 clergymen and
ministers, 18,422 lawyers, and 22,383 medical men. Indeed, the Commissioners of the Census^
tell us, that the three professions, even with their allied and subordinate members, amount
to only 112,193, and "though their importance cannot he overrated," they add, "yet, in
numbers, they would be out-voted by the tailors of the United Kingdom."
Of the unrecognited professions, the authors in Great Britain are 2,981 in number the
artists, 9,148 ; the professors of science (returned as such), only 491 ; while the teachers
amount to 106,344 ;—making a total of 118,964 individuals
Now, let us see what proportion of the body of professional people existing throughout
Great Britain, is found located in the Metropolis.
PROFESSIONAL LONDON.
65
According to the returns of the last census, the gross number of persons living by the
exercise of their talents in London (including the same classes as were before mentioned),
amounts to 47,746; and this out of a population of 2,362,236—so that the proportion is
just upon one-fiftieth of the whole. Hence we find that whereas there are eleven people in
every thousand belonging to the intellectual classes throughout Great Britain, or rather more
than one per cent, of the gross population,* the ratio in the Capital is a fraction beydnd twenty
to the thousand, or about two per cent, of the entire metropolitan people.
• The distribution of the Professional'Classes throughout the country, and the ratio they bear to the rest
of the adult population is as follows :—
TABLE SHOWING THE MSTRIBUTION OF THE PEOFESSIONAL CLASSES (MAXES AND FEMALES ABOVE
20 TEAES) THEOUGHOUT ENGLAND AND WALES, A.D. 1851.
Divisions.
Clergrmen,
Prot. Ministers,
1 Priests, &c.
¡ Barristers,
Solicitors, and
others.
Physicians, Sur¬
geons, and others
Authors,Editors,
and others.
Artists, Archi¬
tects, and others.
Scientific
Persons.
Music, School,
1 and other
Masters.
Total.
Population
above
Twenty years.
Number to
' every 1000. j
Division I.—London
2,388
5,703
5,100
1,160
3,666
146
14,570
32,733
1,394,963
23-4
Division 11. — Southeen-
Eastekn Counties.
Surrey (««-Métro.) . . .
Kent (««-Metro.) ....
Sussex
Hampshire
Berkshire . ....
372
779
659
744
417
360
332
345
292
147
247
502
412
372
194
23
45
53
43
20
82
145
99
138
45
3
6
8
8
1,444
2,678
2,316
2,260
1,165
2,531
4,487
3,892
3.857
1,988
111,025
263,292
182,164
222,633
108,017
22-7
17-0
21-3
17-3
18-4
Total .
2,971
1,476
1,727
184
509
25
9,863
16,755
887,131
18-9
Division III.—South Mid¬
land Counties.
Middlesex (««-Metro.) . .
Hertfordshire
Buckinghamshire . . .
Oxfordshire ... . ,
Northamptonshire . . .
Huntingdonshire . . . '.
Bedfordshire
Cambridgeshire ....
251
315
301
479
453
128
228
393
"270
115
79
104
105
32
45
113
243
231
99
145
155
37
92
131
33
6
18
101
5
2
4
123
91
26
18
35
30
2
16
27
4
2
3
1
i
8
1,255
904
668
915
1,022
305
453
934
2,147
1,599
1,183
1,782
1,771
506
839
1,729
84,190
92,152
76,570
92,252
115,735
31,260
67,029
101,587
25-5
17-3
15-4
19 3
15-3
16-1
12-5
17-0
Total . . .
2,548
863
1,133
292
245
19
6,456
11,556
660,775
17-4
Division IV.—Eastern
Counties.
Essex
Suffolk
Norfolk
624
686
860
194
172
292
282
248
294
29
24
25
53
54
72
5
4
5
1,834
1,672
2,192
3,021
2,860
3,740
183,845
180,371
239,504
16-4
15-8
15-6
Total . . .
2,170
6.58
824
78
179
14
5,698
9,621
603,720
15-9
Division V.—South-West-
een Counties.
Wiltshire
Dorsetshire
Devonshire
Cornwall
Somersetshire
484
375
1064
450
979
142
121
497
162
403
172
139
625
230
473
22
16
52
17
38
25
35
174
33
131
5
9
5
10
1,213
960
3,110
1,401
2,635
2,063
1,646
5,531
2,298
4,669
129,245
95,612
318,707
184,879
249,581
15-9
17-2
17-3
12 3
18-7
Total . . .
3.352
1,326
1,639
145
398
29
9.319
16,207
978,024
16-5
continuation of Table see next page.
66
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
"When, therefore, we come to consider that the above estimate includes the whole of the
" learned professions " (as they are invidiously styled), as well as all those whose Eves are
DmsioNS.
Clergymen,
Prot. Ministers,
Priests, &c.
Barristers,
Solicitors, and
oüiers.
Physicians,
¡ Surgeons, and
others.
Authors,
Editors, and
others.
Painters,
Ârchiteois, and
others.
Scientific
Persons.
Music, School,
and other
Masters.
Total.
Population
above
Ibventy years.
Number to 1
every iOOO. j
Division VI.—West Mid¬
land Counties.
Gloucestershire ....
Herefordshire
Shropshire
Staffordshire
Worcestershire
Warwickshire .....
837
217
466
623
421
656
478
100
187
278
257
234
617
83
229
361
214
459
67
20
18
29
22
57
201
15
36
147
93
245
19
1
3
10
2
5
2,478
447
1,100
2,209
1,314
2,226
4,597
883
2,039
3,657
2,323
3,882
236,002
66,320
134,691
329,602
140,867
262,905
19-4
15-6
15-1
11-0
16-4
14-7
Total . . .
3,220
1,534
1,863
213
737
40
9,774
17,381
1,160,387
14-9
Division VII.—Noeth Mid¬
land Counties.
Leicestershire . . . , .
Butlandshire
Lincolnshire
Nottinghamshire ....
Derbyshire
422
74
729
366
320
100
8
207
118
126
167
16
325
184
185
17
1
19
20
14
61
1
61
69
43
5
7
5
4
1,159
131
2,060
1,348
1,030
1,931
231
3,408
2,110
1,722
127,425
13,260
213,229
160,197
140,568
15-1
17-4
15-9
13-1
12-2
Total . . .
1,911
559
877
71
235
21
5,728
9,402
654,679
14-3
Division VIII North-
Westebn Counties.
Cheshire
Lancashire
489
1,567
307
1025
312
1332
36
120
106
633
8
52
1,819
6,488
3,077
11,223
229,013
1,122,817
13-4
100
Total . . .
2,056
1,332
1,650
156
739
60
8,307
14,300
1,351,830
10-6
Division IX.—Yorkshire.
West Biding
East Biding
North Biding
1256
401
349
611
232
121
857
282
183
71
30
9
284
115
28
28
3
2
4,726
1,430
1,018
7.833
2,493
1,710
712,114
142,672
107,159
11-0
17-4
15-9
Total . . .
2,006
964
1,322
110
427
33
7,174
12,036
961,946
12-5
Division X.—^Northern
Counties.
Durham
Northumberland ....
Cumberland
Westmoreland
382
335
274
128
175
169
102
31
311
277
142
54
31
34
12
7
68
80
24
16
13
6
5
1
1,496
1,058
845
283
2,476
1,959
1,404
520
216,638
166,152
106,908
31,762
11-4
11-8
13-1
16-0
Total . . .
1,119
477
784
84
188
25
3,682
6,359
521,460
12-2
Division XI.—^Monmouth¬
shire and Wales.
Monmouthshire ....
South Wales
North Wales
309
1160
762
82
246
158
126
300
224
1
37
16
21
80
29
4
2
513
1,493
884
1,056
3,318
i 2,073
96,821
326,367
278,492
11-0
10-2
74
Total . V .
2,231
486
650
54
130
6
2,890
6,447
701,680
9-2
Total for England and Wales
2-5,971
15,377
16,969
2,647
7,453
418
83,461
162,797
9,876,594
15-0
By the above table, it vrill bo seen that the professional or mgniy-educated classes range from about 7-fi to
PEOFESSIONAL LONDON.
67
devoted to the equally learned pursuits of literature, art, science, and education ; that is to
say, not only those versed in divinity, law, and physic, but the historian, the poet, the critic,
the painter, the sculptor, the architect, the natural philosopher, and the musician, together
with the teachers of youth and professors of science—in fine, not only the modem Butlers
and Paleys, the Blackstones and Bacons, the Harvey s and Hunters, but, in the words of
the Census Commissioners, the living "Shakespeares, Humes, Handels, Eaphaels, Michael
Angeles, Wrens, and Newtons"—when we consider this, we repeat, it must be confessed
that the proportion of one, or even two, per cent, of such folk to the entire population,
appears but little complimentary to the taste or culture of our race. Otherwise, surely
every huudred persons in Great Britain would think it requisite to maintain more than one
person for the joint cure of their bodies and souls, as well as the redress of their wrongs
and the enlightenment or refinement of their minds.
StiU, another view must, in pradence, be taken of the matter. However much the
intellectual classes may contribute to the honour and glory of a nation, nevertheless, we
must admit, they add—directly—but little, if any, to its material wealth. Eeligion, health,
justice, literature, art, science, education—admirable as they all be—are mental and
spiritual riches, instead of commodities having an exchangeahle value—being metaphysical
luxuries, rather than physical necessities : for wisdom, taste, and piety do not tend to
appease those grosser wants of our nature, which the grosser riches of a country go to
satisfy ; nor wül the possession of them fill the stomach, or clothe the limbs, or shelter
the head ; so that those who give up their lives to such pursuits cannot possibly be
ranked as self-supporting individuals, since they must be provided for out of the stock of
such as serve directly, by their capital or their labour, to increase the products of the
nation.
Accordingly, the maintenance of even ow« such unproductive person to every hundred
individuals (especially when we bear in mind that three-fourths in every such hundred must,
naturally, be incapacitated from the severer labours of life, by either sex or age, as
women and the very old and very young) refiects no little credit on our countrymen ; since,
in order to uphold that ratio, every twenty-five producers {i.e., one-fourth of each century
of people) throughout the kingdom, must, in addition to the support of their own families
(which may be taken at three-fourths in every such century), voluntarily part with a consider¬
able portion of their creature comforts, in order to enjoy the benefit of the teachings, the
advice, or the aspirations of their "professional" brethren.*
It is, however, hardly fair to rank professional men among the non-producers of a country;
for though your doctors in divinity, law, and physic, as well as poets, philosophers, and
pedagogues, tlU. not, " neither do they spin," it is certain that they contribute, indirectly, to
the wealth of a nation, as much—if not more, perhaps—than any other class.
Newton, for instance, by the invention of the sextant, as well as by that vast opening-up
of our astronomical knowledge which served to render navigation simpler and safei^ did
more to extend our maritime commerce than any merchant enterprise could ever have
effected. Again, aU must allow that the steam-labourer created by "Watt has tended to
25-5 individuals to every 1000 of the adult population, throughout England and Wales; and that whilst
the highest ratio of professional people is found in Middlesex, London, Surrey, and Sussex, the lowest
proportion obtains in Northumberland, Durham, Stafford, the West Riding of York, Lancaster, Monmouth,
and South and North Wales. This result coincides nearly with the returns of the relative amount of educa¬
tion prevailing throughout the several counties of England and Wales, as indicated by the number of persons
who sign the marriage register with marks ; and by which returns it appears that there is the least number
of educated persons in Monmouth, South Wales, and North Wales, and the greatest number in Surrey and
Middlesex. Thus we perceive that the proportion of professional classes is an indication of the educated state
of the people in the various counties.
» The average number of persons to a family in England and Wales is 4-827.—Cetmts Report for 1851.
6'
68
THE GREAT "WORLD.OE LONDON.
increase our manufactures more than many million pairs of hands ; whilst the steam-carriage
of Stephenson has helped to distribute the products of particular districts over the entire
country, far beyond the powers of an infinite number of carriers. How many working men
would it have taken to have enriched the nation to the same amount as Arkwright, the
penny barber, did by his single invention of the spinning-jenny ? "What number of weavers
would be required to make as much cloth as he, who devised the power-loom, produced
by the mere effort of his brain ? Surely, too, Lee, the university scholar, has given more
stockings to the poor, by the invention of his " frame," than all the knitters that ever lived.
Farther, have not the manures discovered by our chemists increased our crops to a greater
extent than the whole of the agricultural labourers throughout the kingdom, and the
reasonings of our geologists and metallurgists added to our mineral wealth more than the
entire body of our miners and smelters ?
Stni, these are merely the " economical " results springing from science and education ;
those results, on the other hand, which are due to the practice of the "learned" professions,
though perhaps less brilliant, are equally indisputable. The medical skill which restores the
disabled workman to health and strength surely cannot be regarded as valueless in the State ;
nor can we justly consider the knowledge which has prolonged the term of life, and
consequently of industry, in this country, as yielding nothing to the wealth-fund of the
nation. Moreover, that honourable vocation which has for its object the prevention and
redress of wrong, and the recovery of every man's due, serves not only to give a greater
security to capital, and so to induce the wealthy to employ rather than hoard their gains,
but also to protect the poor against the greed and power of the avaricious rich—this, too, cannot
but be acknowledged to be intimately concerned in promoting the industry and increasing
the riches of the community ; whilst that still higher calling, which seeks to make all men
charitable and kind, rather than sternly just, to their less favoured brethren, which teaches
that there are higher things in life than the " rights of capital " and political economy, and
which, by inculcating special respect and duties to the poor, has been mainly instrumental
in emancipating the labourer from the thraldom of villanage, and consequently in giving a
tenfold return to his industry as a free workman—such a calling may also be said to have
a positive commercial valm among us.
Surely, then, professions which yield products like these cannot be regarded as altogether
unproductive in the land.
The professional classes constitute what, in the cant language of literature, is styled "the
aristocracy of intellect;" and it must be admitted, even by those who object to the intro¬
duction of the title aristos into the republic of letters, that the body of professional men
form by themselves a great intellectual clan—the tribe which is specially distinguished from
all others by the learning, wisdom, or taste of its members, and the one, moreover, which in
all philosophic minds cannot but occupy the foremost position in society. For, without
any disposition to disparage those classes who owe their social pre-eminence either to their
birth or their wealth, we should he untrue to our own class and vocation if we did not,
without arrogance, claim for it—despite the " order of precedence " prevalent at Court—.a
position second to none in the community ; and, surely, even those who feel an honourable
pride in the deeds and glory of their ancestors, and they too, who, on the other hand, find
a special virtue in the possession of inordinate riches or estates, must themselves allow
that high intellectual endowments have an intrinsic nobility belonging to them, compared
with which the ext/rinsic nobility of "blood" or "lands" is a mere assumption and
pretence.
Now it must not be inferred, from the tenor of the above remarks, that we are advei-se to
the aristocratic institutions of this country. Far from it ; we believe in no equality on this
side of the grave : for as Nature has made one man wiser, or better, or braver, or more
PEOFESSIONAL LONDON.
69
prudent than another, it is our creed that society must always own a " superior class" of some
sort—superior in intellect, goodness, heroism, or worldly possessions, according as the
nation chooses to measure by one or more of those standards. The Stanleys, the Howards,
the EusseUs, &o., are, to aU unprejudiced minds, unquestionably more worthy of social respect,
as nature's own gentlemen, than the descendants of Greenacrc, Burke, and Eush—nature's
own ruffians ; and so, again, we cannot but regard the Barings and the Jones-Lloyds as
more dignified and useful members of the commimity than your able-bodied pauper or
sturdy vagrant.
But, while making these admissions, we must at the same time acknowledge that we hold
the Shakespeares, the Newtons, the "Watts, the Blackstones, the Harveys, the FuEers, the
Eeynolds, the Purcells, and indeed aU who have distinguished themselves either in law,
divinity, medicine, literature, art, science, or education, not only as being among the very
worthiest of England's worthies, but as constituting the class which lends the chief dignity to
a nation in the eyes of all foreign countries—the untitled nobility of the world, rather than
of any mere isolated empire.
■ Nor would it be just to ourselves, and our own order, if we did not here assert that the
literary vocation—truthfully, righteously, and perfectly carried out—claims kindred, not only
with all philosophy as the ground-work of each particular science, and ethics as the basis of aE
law, and humanism which enters so largely into medical knowledge, and aesthetics as the
foundation of aE arts connected with the beautiful, but also with reEgion itself, in its
inculcation of the Christian principles—its use of the parabular* form of instruction—as
weE as its denunciation of wrong, and its encouragement of good-wiE and charity among aE
men.
Moreover, it is our pride to add, that, of aE pursuits and ranks in the world, there is
none which depends so thoroughly on public acclaim, and so Ettle on sovereign caprice, for
the honour and glory of its members ; and none, therefore, in which honours and glories
cast so high and sterling a dignity upon its chiefs.
WeE, it is with the professional, or rather let us say the inteEectual, portion of metro-
poHtan society that we purpose first dealing here.
The professionals resident iii»London number, as we have said, 47,000 and odd individuals
in the aggregate ; and, therefore, constitute nearly one-fifth of the entire inteEectual class
distributed throughout Great Britain.
Included in the gross number of metropoEtan professionals are, 5,863 lawyers, 5,631
doctors, 2,393 clergymen and ministers, and 11,210 "subordinates"—^making altogether
25,097 persons belonging to the so-feaEed "learned" professions; whEst to these must be
added the sum of 22,649 persons connected with the " unrecognized " professions ; and
including 1,195 Eterary men, 17,241 teachers, 156 professors of science, and 4,057 artists
and architects.!
Of each and aE of these varieties oL Professional London it is our intention to treat,
seriatim, under the several divisions of Legal London—^Medical London—EeEgious London—
Literary London—Artistic London—Scholastic London, and so on, dealing with each of
those phases of MetropoEtan Efe as if it were a distinct Metropolis—estimating its popula¬
tion—marking out its boundaries and districts—and treating of the manners and customs of
the people belonging to it, from the highest to the lowest ; indeed, attempting for the first
time to write and photograph the history of our multifarious Capital, in the nineteenth cen-
• This word is hardly formed upon correct etymological principles, the Latin adjectival affix, "wtor*
—as in tabular, from " table"—cannot stiictly be applied to a Gfreek substantive. The use, however, of the
true grœco-adjective "parabolic " in a wholly different sense is, perhaps, sufficient apology for the formation
sf the mongrel term.
t The distribution of the professional classes throughout the several districts of London is as follows t
70
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
tury ; and wo shall now begin to set forth the several details in connection with the first
of those divisions.
TABLE SHOWING THE DISTEIBÜTION OF THE PEOFESSIONAL CLASSES (MAISS AND FEMALES,
20 YEARS AND UPWAEDs) THROUGHOUT LONDON.
Districts*
Clergymen,
Prot. Ministers,
Priests, &c.
Barristers,
Solicitors, and
others.
Physicians,
Surgeons, and
others.
Authors,
Editors, and
1 others.
Painters,
Architects, and
others.
Scientific
Persons.
1 Music, School,
and other
' Masters.
Total.
Population,
above
Twenty years.
Number to
every 1000.
1 West Districts.
1 Kensington
1 Chelsea
' St. George (Hanover Sq.) .
1 Westminster
Si. Martin in the Fields .
St.'James, Westminster .
219
80
121
Ô9
35
41
722
130
329
130
90
1.59
394
119
380
74
107
192
89
29
52
32
31
41
337
122
153
90
67
91
'I
1,334
470
589
366
141
199
3,103
953
1,631
751
471
727
73,205
33,619
48,969
39,722
16,154
24,023
42-4
28-3
33-3
18-9
29-1
30-2
Total West Districts . .
655
1,560
1,266
274
860
22
3,099
7,636
235,692
32-4
North Districts.
Marylehone
Hampstead . . . . , .
Paneras .... . .
Islington
Hackney
195
36
209
146
103
477
101
661
255
126
558
41
515
192
111
79
9
149
57
36
429
32
710
167
60
23
1
13
9
1
1,344
165
1,450
888
584
3,105
385
3,707
1,714
1,021
99.445
7,110
99,809
55.446
33,268
31-2
54-1
37-1
30-9
30 7
Total North Districts . •
689
1,620
1,417
330
1,398
47
4,431
9,932
295,078
33-6
Central Districts.
St. Giles
Strand
Holhorn... ...
Clerkenwell . ...
St. Luke
East London
West London
London City
67
33
47
47
29
26
18
74
381
267
403
121
35
25
138
120
206
141
101
127
93
84
70
146
41
82
40
35
5
8
19
22
147
124
80
87
24
13
23
42
6
10
3
3
2
4
297
232
203
383
194
186
87
242
1,145
889
885
803
380
344
355
650
34,469
27,317
28,104
37,749
31.231
26,194
17,890
34,656
32-2
32-5
31-5
21-2
12-1
131
19-8
18-7
Total Central Districts . .
341
1,490
968
252
540
28
1,824
5,451
237,610
22-9
East Districts.
Shoreditch
Bethnal Green ....
Whitechapel
' St. George in the East . .
Stepney
Poplar
52
61
36
24
77
23
37
17
12
7
32
12
100
51
83
47
114
43
28
10
5
5
13
1
72
25
19
13
56
19
3
9
5
6
4
487
262
221
169
564
180
779
435
381
271
860
278
61,150
47,636
45,988
27,894
62,661
26,398
12-7
91
8-3
9-7
13-7
10-5
Total East Districts .
273
117
438
62
204
27
1,883
3,004
271,727
11-0
South Districts.
St. Saviour (Southwark) .
St. Olave (Southwark) . .
Bermondsey
St. George (Southwark)
Newington
Lambeth
Wandsworth
Caraberwell
Botherhithe
Greenwich
Xi6 w ishaui *.*•«.
13
13
23
41
47
114
84
57
9
68
61
15
4
5
45
82
284
159
130
3
92
97
65
79
35
79
112
253
83
109
13
132
51
7
2
4
13
44
90
20
30
1
18
14
41
3
21
50
97
223
46
94
6
56
27
1
2
4
3
2
8
2
130
72
214
264
365
1,084
543
521
80
616
336
271
173
302
493
749
2,052
938
943
112
990
588
21,040
12,342
26,587
29,924
37,298
80,322
29,236
31,699
10,026
58,033
19,303
12-8
140
11-3
16-5
20 0
25-5
32-1
29-7
11-1
17-0
30-4
Total South Districts . .
630
916
1,011
243
664
22
4,225
7,611
355,810
21-4
Total for all London. . .
2,388
5,703
5,100
1,161
3,667
146
15,462
33,634
1,395,917
24-0
LEGAL LONDON.
71
DIVISION I.
LEGAL LOUDON.
Tbere is a legal district of London as unmistakably as there is a Jews' quarter in Erankfort ;
for the Juden-gasse of the German free town is hardly more distinct from the Zeil, than
Chancery Lane and its environs from the City or West End of our Metropolis.
And as there are several foreign colonies scattered throughout the British Capital—as
Hattou Garden and its purlieus, swarming with glass-blowers and organ-grinders, is the
Metropolitan Italia ; the neighbourhood of Leicester Square, with its congregation of hoards
and soft hats, the Cockney Gallia Ulteeiou ; and the parish of St. Giles, where the courts
and cellars teem with hod-men and market-women, the London Hxbeenia ; so is there a peculiar
race of people grouped around the Courts of Law and Inns of Court—Westminster and
Lincoln's Inn being the two great legal provinces of London, even as York and Canterbury
are the two great ecclesiastical provinces of England.
A reference to the annexed maps will show that Legal London is composed not only of
lawyers' residences and chambers, but of Inns of Court and Law Courts—Civil as well as
Criminal, " Superior " as well as Petty—and County Courts, and Police Courts, and Prisons;
and that whilst the Criminal, the County, and Police Courts, as well as the Prisons, are
dotted, at intervals, all over the Metropolis, the Superior Law Courts are focussed at West¬
minster and Guildhall; the Inns of Court being grouped round Chancery Lane, and the
legal residences, or rather "chambers" (for lawyers, Uke merchants, now-a-days live mostly
away from their place of business), concentrated into a dense mass about the same classic
spot, hut thinning gradually oif towards Guildhall and Westminster, as if they were the
connecting links between the legal courts and the legal inns.
map of the inns op court and districts inhabited by lawyers.
( The black parte repreemt the Inne of Court, the references to the numbers being given on the next p sge ; and the tinted
tbtroughfares indicate the Streets inhabited bu ¿.>>w«ra.'i
MAP OF THE SUPEKIOR LAW COURTS, COUNTY COURTS, SESSIONS HOUSES, POLICE COURTS, .
AND PRISONS THROUGHOUT LONDON.
The Circles represent Inns of Court and Law Courts ; the Diamonds, County Courts ; the Squares, Police
Courts ; and the Orals, Prisons.
INNS OP COURT.
1 Lincoln's Inn.
2. Temple.
8. Gray's Inn
4. Famiyarslnn.
6. Staple Inn.
6. Senceant's Inn.
7. ClifTord's Inn.
8. Clement's Inn.
9. New Inn.
10. Lyon's Inn.
11. Symond'slnn.
12. Barnard's Inn.
13. Thayies' Inn.
LAW COURTS.
14. Westminster Hall.
16. Lincoln's Inn. i
16. Rolls Court.
17. Guildhall
18. Bankruptcy.
19. Insolvent Debtors'.
20. Ecclesiastical and Adml
ralty.
21. Central Criminal Court.
22. HiddlesexSesslons House
23. Surrey Sessions House.
24 WestminsterScssionsHo.
25. Tower Llbeity Sessions
Hoiue,
26. Southwark Sessions Ho.
COUNTY COURTS.
27« Marylebone.
28. Bloomsbury.
29. Westminster.
30. Clerkenwell.
31. Whitechapel.
32. Shoreditcn.
33. SouLhwark
34. Lambeth.
36. Brompton.
36. Bow.
POLICE COURTS
37 Mansion House.
38. GuUdhall.
39. Bow Street.
40. Marlborough Street.
41. Marylebone.
42. Clerkenwell.
43. Westminster.
44. Worship btreeu
46 LambeUi.
46. Thames.
47 South walk.
48. Hammersmith.
49. WandswiTih.
60. Greenwich
61. Woolwich.
PRISONS.
62. Pentonville.
63. Miilbank.
■64 Female Convict, Brixton.
66. Hulks, Woolwich.
A6. House of Correction.
67. Middlesex House of Cor¬
rection.
City House of Correction,
UoUoway.
Surrey House of Correc¬
tion.
Bridewell Hospital.
Bridewell House of Occn-
pätion. Saint Gcorgel
Fields.
Middlesex House of De¬
tention.
Newgate.
Surrey County Gaol.
Queen's B^nch.
Whitecross Street.
Tower.
Strong Room, House of
Commons.
The Inns of Court are themselves sufficiently peculiar to give a strong distinctive mark
to. the locality in which they exist ; for here are seen broad open squares like huge court-yards,
paved and treeless, and flanked with grubby mansions—as big and cheerless-looking as
barracks—every one of them being destitute of doors, and having a string of names painted
in stripes upon the door-posts, that reminds one of the lists displayed at an estate-agent's office ;
and there is generally a chapel-like edifice called the "hall," that is devoted to feeding rather
flian praying, and where the lawyerlings " qualify" for the bar by eating so many dinners,
and become at length—gastronomically—" learned in the law." Then how peculiar are the
tidy legal gardens attached to the principal Inns, with their close-shaven grass-plots lookiiig
as sleek and bright as so much green plush, and the cleap-rwept gravel walks thronged with
children, and nursemaids, and law-students. How odd, too, are the desolate-looking legal
alleys or courts adjoining these Iims, with nothing but a pump or a cane-bearing street-keeper
to be seen in the midst of them, and occasionally at one corner, beside a crypt-like passage,
ft stray dark and dingy barb^jr's shop, with its seedy display of powdered horsehair wigs of
LEGAL LONDON.
73
the same dirtv-white hue as London snow. Who, moreover, has not noted the windows of the
legal fruiterers and law stationers hereabouts, stuck over with small announcements of
clerkships wanted, each penned in the well-known formidable straight-up-and-down three-
and-fourpenny hand, and beginning—with a "®:^iô-ltnï)eiiture"-like flourish of German
text "Œftf ïïErttcr ï)fVfof," &c. ? Who, too, while threading his way through the monastic¬
like byways of such places, has not been startled to find himself suddenly light upon a small
enclosure, comprising a tree or two, and a little circular pool, hardly bigger than a lawyer's
inkstand, with a so-called fountain in the centre, squirting up the water in one long thick
thread, as if it were the nozzle of a fire-engine. ?
But such are the features only of the more important Inns of Court, as Lincoln's and
Gray's, and the Temple; but, in addition to these, there exists a large series of legal bhnd alleys,
or yards, which are entitled " Inns of Chancery," and among which may be classed the lugu¬
brious localities of Lyon's Inn and Barnard's ditto, and Clement's, and Clifford's, and Sergeants',
and Staple, and the like. In some of these, one solitary, lanky-looking lamp-post is the only
ornament in the centre of the backyard-like square, and the grass is seen struggling up between
the interstices of the pavement, as if each paving-stone were trimmed with green cJienüle.
In another you find the statue of a kneeling negro, holding a platter-like sun-dial over his
head, and seeming, while doomed to tell the time, to be continually inquiring of the' sur¬
rounding gentlemen in black, whether he is not " a man and a brother ?" In another you
observe crowds of lawyers' clerks, vrith their hands full of red-tape-tied papers, assembled
outside the doors of new clubhouse-Like buildings. Moreover, to nearly every one of these
legal nooks and comers the entrance is through some archway or iron gate that has a high
bar left standing in the middle, so as to obstmct the passage of any porter's load into the
chancery sanctuary; and there is generally a little porter's lodge, not unlike a Erench
conciergerie, adjoining the gate, about which loiter liveried street-keepers to awe off little
boys, who would otherwise be sure to dedicate the tranquil spots to the more innocent pursuit
of marbles or leap-frog.
The various classes of Law Courts too have, one and all, some picturesque characteristics
about them. For example, is not the atmosphere of Westminster Hall essentially distinct from
that of the Old Bailey ? During term time the Hall at Westminster (which is not unlike an
empty railway terminus, with the exception that the rib-like rafters are of carved oak rather
than iron) is thronged with suitors and witnesses waiting for their cases to be heard, and pacing
the Hall pavement the while, in rows of three or four, and with barristers here and there
walking up and down in close communion with attorneys ; and there are sprucely-dressed
strangers from the country, either bobbing in and out of the various courts, or else standing
still, with their necks bent back and their mouths open, as they stare at the wooden angels
at the comers of the oaken timbers overhead.
The Courts here are, as it were, a series of ante-chambers ranged along one side of the
spacious Hall ; and as you enter some of them, you have to bob your head beneath a heavy
red cloth curtain. The judge, or judges, are seated on a long, soft-looking, crimson-covered
bench, and costumed in wigs that fall on either side their face, like enormous spaniel's ears,
and with periwigged barristers piled up in rows before them, as if they were so many
mediaeval medical students attending the lectures at some antiquated hospital. Then there
is the legal fimit-stall, in one of the neighbouring passages, for the distribution of " apples,
oranges, biscuits, ginger-beer"—and sandwiches—to the famished attendants at Court; and
the quiet, old-fashioned hotels, for the accommodation of witnesses from the country, ranged
along the opposite side of Palace Yard.
How different is all this from the Central Criminal Court at the Old Bailey ! There we
find a large boüed-beef establishment, with red, steaming rounds in the window, side by
side with the temple of justice, and a mob of greasy, petty larceny-like friends of the
" prisoner at the bar," and prim-looking policemen,' gathered round the Court doors and
74
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDOH.
beside the gateway leading to the sheriffs' entrance at the hack, waiting the issue of that
da3r's trials. Then, within the Court, upon the bench, there are the aldermen, reading the
daily papers or writing letters, attired in their purple silk gowns trimmed with fur, and with
heavy gold S collars about their neck ; and the under-sheriffs in their court suits, with their
lace MUs and rufles—the latter encircling the hand like the cut paper roxmd bouquets—
with their black rapiers at their side, and all on the same seat with the foll-wigged judges ;
and the barristers below crowded round a huge loo-table, that is littered with bags and briefs;
and the jury packed in their box at one side of the little court—^which, by the by, seems
hardly bigger than a back parlour—with a long " day-reflector" suspended over their heads,
and throwing an unnatural light upon their faces ; whilst in the capacious square dock, facing
the bench, stands the prisoner at the bar awaiting his doom, with the Governor of Newgate
seated at one corner of the compartment, and a turnkey at the other.
This, again, is all very different from the shabby-genteel crowd, with its m.elange of " tip¬
staffs" and sham-attomeys, gathered about the Insolvent Court, and the neighbouring pubhc-
hoiises, in Portugal Street ; that, too, utterly unlike the quaint, old-fashioned tribunals in
Doctor's Commons ; these, moreover, the very opposite to the petty Coimty Courts, that have
little to distinguish them from private houses, except the crowd of excited debtors, and
creditors, and pettifoggers grouped outside the doors ; and those, on the other hand, entirely
distinct from the still more insigniflcant Police Coiuts, with their group of policemen on
the door-step, and where, at certain hours, may be seen the sombre-looking prison-van,
that is like a cross between a hearse and an omnibus, with the turnkey conductor seated in a
kind of japan-leather basket beside the door at the end of the vehicle.
Farther, there are the several prisons scattered throughout the Metropolis, and forming
an essential part of the Legal Capital : the gloomy, and yet handsome prison püe of Newgate,
with its bunch of fetters over each doorway—the odd polygon-shaped and rampart-like Peni¬
tentiary, perched on the river bank by VauxhaE—the new prison at Pentonville, with its
noble, portcullis-like gateway—^the City Prison at Holloway, half castle half madhouse,
with its taU central tower, reminding one of some ancient stronghold—besides the less pic¬
turesque and bare-waUed Coldbath Fields, and Tothill Fields, and Horsemonger Lane, and
the House of Detention, and Whitecross Street, and the Queen's Bench—not forgetting the
mastless Hulks, with their grim-looking barred port-holes.
These, however, constitute rather the legal institutions of London than the legal locali¬
ties ; and that there are certain districts that are chiefly occupied by lawyers, and which
have a peculiarly lugubrious legal air about them, a half-hour's stroll along the purheus of
the Inns of Court is sufficient to convince us.
Of this Legal London, Chancery Lane may be considered the capital ; and here, as we
have before said, everything smacks of the law. The brokers deal only in legal furniture—
the publishers only in "Feabne on Eemaindeks " and " Impet's Peactice," and such like
dry legal books—and the stationers in skins of parchment and forms of wills, and law-lists
and almanacs, and other legal appliances. Then the dining-rooms and "larders," so plentiful
in this quarter, are adapted to the taste and pockets of lawyers' clerks ; and there are
fruiterers, and oyster-rooms, and "cafi-restammt" bakers, and "Cocks," and "Eainbows,"
for barristers and attorneys to lunch at ; and " sponging-houses," barred like small lunatic
asylums, and with an exercising yard at the hack like a bird-cage ; and patent-offices ; and
public-houses, frequented by bailiffs' foUowers and managing elerks; and quiet-looking
taverns, which serve occasionally as courts for commissions " de lunático"
Then stretching in aU directions from the legal capital, with its adjacent attorney byways
of Cook's Court, and Quality Court, and Boswell Court, and Southampton Buildings,"we have
what may be termed the legal suburbs, such as Bedford Eow, with its annexed James and
John Streets, and the doleful Eed Lion and Bloomsbury Squares, and Southampton Street,
Holbom. In the opposite direction, we flnd the equally legal Essex Street, and Lancaster
LEGAL LONDON.
75
Place, and Somerset Place, and Adam Street (Adelphi), and Buckingliam Street, and White¬
hall Place, and Parliament Street, and Great George Street, all connecting, by a series of
legal links. Chancery Lane to Westminster. Again, along Holbom we hare the out-of-the-
way legal nooks of Bartlett's Buildings and Ely Place. Whilst, in the neighbourhood of the
City Courts of Guildhall, there are the like legal localities of King Street, Cheapside, and
Bucklersbury, and Basinghall Street, and Old Jewry Chambers, and Coleman Street, and
Tokenhouse Yard, and CopthaU Buildings, and Crosby Chambers, and New Broad Street,
with even a portion of the legal Metropolis stretching across the water to Wellington Street
in the Borough.*
• The subjoined is a list of the legal localities throughout London, as indicated by the Post-office
Directory a legal locality being considered to be one in which the number of resident lawyers is equal to at
least one-fourth of the number of residences :—
No. of
No of
No. of
Hesident
No. of
Resident
No of
Resident
No. 01
Houses
Bamstero
and
Houses.
Barristers
and
Houses.
Barristere
and
Attorneys.
Attorneys.
Attorneys.
Lincoln's Inn New Square 266
14
Yerulam Buildings,
Symond's Inn, Chancery
„ Old Square
217
62
Gray's Inn .
19
6
Lane . • , .
8
10
„ Vields
198
60
Churchyard Ct., Temple
19
3
Bartlett's Buildings, Hol¬
Chancery Lane
150
125
Sergeants' Inn, Chancery
born . , • ,
8
31'
King's Bench Walk, Tem¬
Lane
18
3
Ironmonger Lane, City .
8
31
ple . ...
129
13
King's Street, Cheapside
17
30
Fenchurch Buildings
7
18
Stone Buildings,Lincoln's
Tokenhouse Yard, Loth-
Field Court, Gray's Inn ,
6
4
Inn ....
128
7
hury ....
15
27
Buckingham St., Strand
6
28
Paper Buildings, Temple
82
5
Mitre Court Buildings,
Angel Court, Throgmor-
Pump Court „
73
6
Temple
15
2
ton Street, City .
6
16
Bedford Bow . .
99
51
Bloomsbury Square
15
43
Lyon's Inn, Fleet Street.
5
S
Furnival's Inn
64
16
Devereux Court, Strand
15
23
Adam Street, Adelphi .
5
20
Inner Temple Lane, Tem¬
Lancaster Place, Strand .
15
10
Barge Yard, Bucklers¬
ple ....
57
9
Austin Friars, City.
15
SO
bury . . , ,
5
S
Brick Court, „ .
56
S
Whitehall Place, Westmr. 14
22
CopthaU Buildings, City ,
5
6
Elm Court . . .
58
5
Barnard's Inn .
14
9
Church Court, Clement's
South Square, Gray's Inn
55
14
Walhrook, City ,
14
38
Lane, City .
5
5
Essex Court, Temple
43
5
New Bridge St , Black-
Tanñeld Chambers,
5
2
Plowden Buildings
40
5
friars ....
13
42
Wellington St., Borough
Temple Chambers, Falcon
4
16
Figtree Court „
39
8
John Street, Bedford Bow
13
38
Hare Court ,, .
37
S
Great George Street,
Court, Fleet Street
4
2
Sergeants' Inn, Fleet
Westminster
13
37
Trafalgar Square, Char¬
Street ....
37
16
Grcsham Street, City
12
48
ing Cross .
4
4
Southampton Buildings,
Southampton St., Holborn
12
23
Somerset Place, Somerset
Chancery Lane . .
37
47
New Court, Temple
12
1
Hou.^e ....
4
9
Essex Street, Strand
35
49
Temple Garden Court
12
4
Cook's Ct., Lincoln's Inn
4
15
Old Jewry Street, City .
35
37
New Broad Street, City .
11
38
Old Palace Yard, West¬
New Inn, Wych Street,
Quality Court, Chancery
minster
3
7
Strand ....
34
13
Lane ....
11
9
Arthur Street, City.
3
11
Harcourt Buildings
34
4 •
Sise Lane, Bucklersbury
11
18
Temple Church Porch
Bwinghall Street, City .
34
84
Farrar's Buildings, Tem¬
Chambers
3
1
Great James Street, Bed¬
ple ....
11
10
Walbrook Buildings
3
3
ford Row
32
42
John Street, Adelphi
11
22
WhitehaU Chambers
3
S
Tanfleld Court, Temple .
31
3
King's Arms Yard, Cole¬
Xwisden Buildings, Tem¬
Carey Street, Lincoln's
man Street, City .
11
20
ple . - . .
2
1
Inn ....
30
68
King's Road, Bedford
2417
Coleman Street, City
29
81
Bow ....
11
22
2009
Bucklersbury, Cheapside
28
38
Gray's Inn Place .
10
11
Serle Street, Lincoln's
Clement's Inn, Strand—
iJoctors Vommons,
Inn ....
28
16
New Inn
10
18
No.of
Mitre Court, Temple
27
12
Clement's Lane, Lombard
Advocates
und
No. of
Houses.
Middle Temple Lane .
27
6
Street ....
10
30
Proctoi^.
Staple Inn, Holbom
27
12
Temple Cloisters, Inner
Great Knight Kider St.
31
22
Crown Office Bow, Tem¬
Temple Lane
10
2
College, Doctor's Com¬
ple ... .
27
11
Inner Temple Hall Stair¬
mons
18
17
Raymond's Buildings,
case ....
0
1
Great Carter Lane .
15
34
Gray's Inn .
35
6
Lamb Buildings .
9
4
Godliman Street
23
15
New BoswellConrt, Carey
Bed Lion Sq., Holborn ■
8
38
Dean's Court .
8
Street ....
25
17
Nicholas Lane, Lombard
Bell Yard
4
10
Parliament Street, West¬
Street, City .
B
39
Paul's-Bakehouse Court.
4
minster
25
65
Great Knight Bider Street
8
22
Pope's Head Alley, Corn-
Ely Place, Holborn .
23
42
Bell Yard, Doctor's Com¬
hill . . . .
S
7
Clillbrd's Inn, Fleet St. .
21
17
mons
8
10
106
105
The following, on the other hand, is the distribution of the lawyers and the lawyers' clerks and law-
76
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LOIÍDON.
Now, the people iiihabitiiig the legal localities of the Metropolis are a distinct tribe,
impressed with views of life and theories of human nature widely different from the more
simple portion of humanity. "With the legal gentry all is doubt and suspicion. No man is
worthy of being trusted by word of mouth, and none fit to be believed but on his oath. Tour
true lawyer opines, with the arch-diplomatist Talleyrand, that speech was given to man not
to express but to conceal his tlioughts ; and, we may add, it is the legal creed that the faculty
of reason was conferred on us merely to enable human beings to "special plead," i.e., to
split logical hairs, and to demonstrate to dunderhead jurymen that black is white.
What beauty is to a quaker, and philanthropy to a political economist, honour is to your
gentleman of the long robe—a moral wiU-o'-the-wisp, that is almost sure to mislead those
who trust to it. The only safe social guide, cries the legal philosopher, is to consider every
one a rogue tUl you find him hone'st, and to take the blackest view of all men's natures in
your dealings with your friends and associates ; believing that there is no bright side, as has
been well said, even to the new moon, until experience shows that it is not entirely dark. In
legal eyes, the idea of any one's word being as good as his bond is stark foUy ; and though,
say the lawyers, our chief aim in life should be to get others to reduce their thoughts to
writing towards m, yet we should abstain from pen, ink, and paper as long as possible, so
as to avoid " committing ourselves " towards them. Or if, in the frank communion of
friendship, we are ever incautious enough to be betrayed into professions that might hereafter
interfere with our pecuniary interests, we should never fail, before concluding our letter,
to have sufficient worldly prudence to change the subscription of "Tours, sincerely," into
' ' Tours, without prejudice. ' '
That lawyers see many examples in life to afford grounds for such social opinions, aU must
admit ; but as well might surgeons believe, because generally dealing with sores and ulcers,
that none are hèalthy ; and physicians advise us to abstain from all close communion with
our fellows, so as to avoid the chance of contagion, because some are diseased. Nor would it
be fair to assert that every lawyer adopts so unchristian and Hobbesian a creed. There are
many gentlemen on the rolls, at the bar, and on the bench, who lean rather to the chivalrous
and trusting than the cynic and sceptical view of life; and many who, though naturally
court officers, above twenty years of age, throughout the several districts of London, according to the returns
of the Census Commissioners, by which it will be seen that the greatest number of lawyers are resident in
tbe western districts by Kensington, whereas the greatest number of clerks are found located in the northern
districts by St. Paneras and Islington ; whilst at the east end of the town, such as Whitechapel and Poplar,
on the Middesex side, and Rotherhithe, and St. Clave, Southwark, on the Surrey side of the water, but few
lawyers or clerks are to be found :—
LawyerB.
Clerks,
&c.
Total.
No. to
1000.
LawyerB.
Clerks,
&o.
Total.
No. to
1000.
Lawyers.
No. to
lOOO.
Kensington .
722
118
840
29-5
Uolborn
403
295
698
51-3
Bermondsey
5
45
50
3-9
Chelsea .
ISO
95
225
15-7
Clerkenwell .
121
291
412
(22-9
St. George,
St. George, Ha-
St. Luke's .
35
77
112
7-5
South wark
45
88
133
9'2
nover Square 329
99
428
20-7
East London .
25
34
59
4-7
Newington
. 82
221
303
1-8
Westminster .
130
130
260
13-4
West London.
138
160
298
331
Lambeth
. 284
421
705
20-1
St. Martin's .
90
39
129
16-5
London City .
120
104
224
13-7
Wandsworth
159
72
231
18-5
St. James
159
25
184
15-9
Total
Camber well
. 130
160
290
22-7
Total
Central Dists.
1498
1391
2810
25-4
Kotherhithe
3
13
16
31
W. Districts
1560
506
2066
20-2
Greenwich
. 92
58
150
50
37
12-3
Lewisbam
. 97
38
135
16-2
Sboreditch
311
348
Total
Marylebone .
Hampstead .
St. Faneras .
477
101
661
181
21
680
Ci s
122
1341
16-0
44-5
30-7
Betbnal Green
Wbitecbapel .
St. George in
tbe East .
17
12
7
64
33
30
81
45
87
3-5
1-9
2-7
8. Districts
916
1215
2131
13-0
Islington
255
664
919
38-6
Stepney
Poplar .
32
127
159
32
5-5
West Districts 1660
506
2066
20-2
Hackney
126
166
292
2-2
12
20
a-4
North ,,
1620
1712
3332
18-7
Total
Total
Central „
1490
1391
2881
25-4
N. Districts
1620
1712
3332
18-7
E. Districts
117
585
702
6-4
East ,,
117
585
702
5'4
~-~-
'
South „
Total
916
1215
2131
13-0
St. Giles
Strand .
381
129
510
31'7
St. Saviour .
15
84
99
9'8
all London
6703
6409
11,112
17-5
267
SOI
568
43-4
St. Clave
4
IS
19
2*9
LEGAL LOlíDOlSr.
77
, inclining towards the Brutus philosophy, and preferring stoical justice to Christian generosity
are still su£S.ciontly poetic to see a glimpse of " good in all things."
Moreover, it is our dutjr and our pride to add, that if among the body of legal gentry
there are to be found such enormities as "sharp practitioners" and "pettifoggers"—
scoundrels who seek to render law a matter of «»justice, and who use that which was
intended to prevent injury and robbery as the means of plunder and oppression—who
regard it as their interest to retard, rather than advance justice, and who love equity and its
long delays simply on account of the iniquity of its costs—if there be such miscreants as
these included among the legal profession, there are, on the other hand, the most noble judges of
the land comprised among its members ; and granting we should estimate the true dignity
of a vocation by those who are at once the most honourable and honoured types of it, we
must candidly admit that there is no office which sheds so pure and brilliant a glory upon
our nation, as that filled by the righteous and reproachless band of English gentlemen who
occupy the judgment-seats of this country. Eor whilst in every other kingdom the judge
is but little better than a quibbling and one-sided advocate—a government hireling, trying his
hardest to convict the prisoner—the British arbiter weighs, with an exquisitely even hand, the
conflicting testimony in favour of and against those who are arraigned at his tribunal, and with
a gracious mercy casts into the trembling scale—in cases of indecision—the lingering doubt,
so as to make the evidence on behalf of the accused outweigh that of his accusers. Nor can
even the most sceptical believe that it is possible for governments or private individuals to
tempt our judges to swerve from the strictest justice between man and man, by any bribe,
however precious, or by any worldly honours, however dazzhng. Indeed, if there be one
class in whose iron integrity every Englishman has the most steadfast faith—of whose Pilate-
like righteousness he has the profoundest respect, and in the immaculateness of whose honour
he feels a national pride—it is the class to whom the high privilege of dispensing justice among
us has been intrusted, and who constitute at once the chiefs and the ornaments of the
profession of which we are about to treat.
Concerning the population of this same Legal London, it may be said to comprise the
following numbers and classes of persons above 20 years of age :—
Barristers ...... 1,513
Solicitors ...... 3,418
Other lawyers (as advocates, proctors, &c.) . .772
Law clerks ...... 4,340
Law court officers (including 8 females) and law stationers 1,069
5,703
5,409
11,112«
Hence, if we include the families of the above individuals (and, according to the returns of
the Census Conunissioners, there are, upon an average, 4-827 persons to each family through¬
out England and "Wales), we arrive at the conclusion that Legal London comprises an aggre¬
gate population of 53,638 souls, which is exactly one forty-fourth part of the entire
metropolitan population.
Now, the next question that presents itseK to our consideration concerns the order and
method to be adopted in our treatment of each of the several classes of people and institutions
connected -with the administration of the laws in the Metropolis.
In our previous specification of the various details comprised under the term Legal
• According to the cenaus returns, there are—in addition to the above—160 lawyers and 1,630 clerks
4c.- or, altogether, 1,690 persons—connected with the law in London who are under twenty years of age;
W tíiat adding these to the total above given, the aggregate of lawyers and their " subordinates" resident in
6
78
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
London, we have spoken of it as comprehending the Inns of Court and the people in
connection therewith—the Superior Courts of Law, Civil, as well as Criminal, and their
various legal functionaries, as judges, solicitors, law clerks, and law-court officers—the
County Courts, and Police Courts, together with their attendant judges, magistrates, clerks,
and practitioners—and, lastly, the Prisons, with the governors, turnkeys, and teachers
attached to them.
Such a list, however, has but Uttle logical distinctness among the parts or congruous
unity in the whole ; hence, we must seek for some more systematic arrangement and classi¬
fication, under which to generalize the various particulars.
The most simple and natural mode of dividing the subject appears to he into two prin¬
cipal heads, namely :—
The Meteopolitan Institutions and People connected "with the Administeation
of the CiriL Law.
And the Meteopolitan Institutions, and People connected with the Administea¬
tion of the Criminal Law.
Under the first of these general heads is comprised the foUo"wing particulars :—
The CowrU of Equity, and the persons connected therewith.
The Courts of Common Law, Superior as well as Petty and Local, and the several
functionaries and practitioners appertaining to them.
The Courts of Bankruptcy and Insolvency, "with the professional gentry attached to
the same.
The Bebtors' Prisons, and their associate officers.
the Metropolis would amount to 12,802. 1 he distribution of the lawyers and their subordinates throughout
the several counties of England and Wales, is as follows :—
TABLE ^HO'WING THE DISTRIBUTION OP LAWYERS AND THEIR CLERKS (ABOVE 20 TEARS OF AGE)
THROUGHOUT ENGLAND AND WALES.
Division I.—Metropolis.
Lawyers. Total, N-»
London . . 5703 5401 11,104 17-5
Division ii.—South Eastern
Counties.
Surrey {ex-Me-
tro.) . . 360
86
446
8-2
Kent (eat-Metro.) 332
208
540
4-1
Sussex . . 345
112
457
5-2
Hampshire . 292
146
438
4-0
Berkshire . 147
84
231
4-3
Total . 1476
636
2112
4-8
Division III.—South Midland
Counties.
Middlesex (ex-
Metro.) . 270
' 80
350
8-9
Hertfordshire . 115
51
166
3-6
Buckinghamshire 79
60
139
3'8
Oxfordshire . 104
54
158
3-4
Northampton¬
shire . . 105
59
164
2-8
Huntingdonshire 32
31
63
4-1
Bedfordshire . 45
24
69
2-2
Cambridgeshire 113
94
207
4-1
Total . 863
453
1316
4-1
Division V.—Eastern Counties.
Essex. . . 194
131
325
3'6
Suffolk . . 172
115
287
3-4
Norfolk . . 292
194
486.
4-2
Total . 658
440
1098
3-7
Djvision V.—South Western
Counties.
Wiltshire
Dorsetshire
Devonshire
Cornwall
142
121
497
162
Somersetshire 403
Total . 1325
Ac.
98
84
275
123
226
1000.
240 3-8
205 4-5
772 5-3
285 3-3
629 6-5
806 2131 4-7
Division VI.—West Midland
Counties.
Glo'stershire. 478
Herefordshire 100
Shropshire . 187
Staffordshire . 278
Worcestershire 257
Warwickshire 234
58
150
234
147
721
158
337
512
404
467
6-6
5-6
5-0
30
6-9
3-6
Total . 1534 1065 2599 5 6
Division VII.—North Midland
Counties.
Leicestershire
Uutlandshire
Lincolnshire .
Nottingham.
shire .
Derbyshire .
Total .
100
8
207
118
126
559
84
5
183
106
64
442
184
13
390
224
IjO
1001
.3-0
1-9
3-6
2-9
2-7
3-2
Division VIII.—North Western
Counties.
Lawyers. Total. Nji»«
Cheshire . 307 244 551 2 4
Lancashire . 1025 777 1802 3*3
Total ,1332 1021 2353 3-3
Division IX.—Yorkshire.
West Eiding. 611 467 1078 3-1
East Eiding . 232 186 418 6-1
North Eiding 121 64 185 3'5
Total . 964 717 1681 3-5
Division X.—Northern Counties.
Durham . 175
Northnmber.
land . . 169
Cumberland . 102
Westmoreland 31
138
111
73
313 2-9
280 3-6
175 3-4
52 3-3
Total
477
343 820 3-2
Division XI.—Monmouthshire and
Wales.
Monmouth¬
shire . . 82 55 137 2-6
South Wales. 246 223 469 2-9
North Wales. 158 137 295 2-8
Total . 486 415 901 5-7
Total for all
England and
Wales . 15,377 11,739 27.11''.
LEGAL LOliDON.
79
The Eeclesiastical and Admiralty Comte, with their attendant judges, advocates,
proctors, &c.
Whereas, under the second head of the Metropolitan Institutions and people in connec¬
tion with the Criminal Law, we have the following sub-heads :—
The Criminal Comte and Sessions Houses, with their several officers and practitioners.
The Police Comte and the magistrates, their clerks and others attached thereto.
The Coroner^ Comte, and the several people connected with them.
The Criminal Prieone, and their, associate governors, turnkeys, &c.
Such an arrangement appears to exhaust the subject, especially when certain minor
points come to be filled in—as, for example, the Patent Offices and Lunacy Commissions
in connection with the jurisdiction of the Lord Chancellor, and the granting of licenses at
the various Sessions Houses by the justicps of the peace—which latter fimction, though
hardly connected with the Criminal Law, must stül (for the sake of avoiding an over-
complicity of details) be treated of under that head.
There are, of course, two ways of dealing with the above particulars—either we may
commence with the beginning, and so work down to the end ; or we may reverse the process,
and beginning at the bottom, proceed gradually liyo to the top. The first method is the
one generally adopted by systematic writers. On the present occasion, however, we purpose
taking the opposite course ; and we do so, not from mere caprice, but because there happen
to be such things as " terms and returns " in Law, which give a periodical rather than
a continuous character to legal proceedings, and so prevent attention to such matters
at all times. Accordingly, as neither perspicuity nor interest is lost by pursuing the latter
plan, we shall here begin our exposition of the character, scenes, and doings of Legal
London, by dealing first with the Criminal Prisons of the Metropolis.
80
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
Sub-division A.—The Metropolitan Institutions, and People connected with the
Administration of the Criminal Law.
§ 1-
THE CRIMINAL PRISONS AND PRISON-POPULATION OF LONDON.
There is a long and multifarious list of prisons distributed throughout London, if we include
aU the places of confinement, from the state or political stronghold down to the common jaR
for the county—from the debtor's prison to the sponging-house—from the penitentiary to
the district "lock-up." Thus we have the Tower and the Hulks; and Whitecross Street
prison, and the Houses of Correction and Detention; and the Queen's Bench, and the
Penitentiary at Millbank ; as weU as the Female Convict Prison at Brixton, and the common
jail, Horsemonger Lane ; besides the " Model " at Pentonvüle, the New City Prison at
Holloway, and the well-known quarters at Newgate ; together with the cells at the several
station-houses of the Metropolitan and City Police, and the sponging-houses in the neigh¬
bourhood of Chancery Lane—all of which come under the denomination of places of safe
custody, if not of punishment and reform.
We shaR find, however, amid the apparent confusion of details, that there are in London
only three distinct kinds of places of safe custody, viz. :—
PoLiTioAi. or State Puisons—such as the Tower and the Strong-room of the House of
Commons ;
Civil or Debtoes' Peisons—as the Queen's Bench and the one in Whitecross Street,
together with a portion of Horsemonger Lane Jail ; and
Ceiminal Peisons ; of which we are about to treat.
Of these same Criminal Prisons there are just upon a dozen scattered tíirough London ;
and it is essential to a proper understanding of the subject that we should first discriininate
accurately between the several members of the family. As yet no one has attempted to
group the places of confinement for criminals into distinct classes ; and we have, therefore,
only so many vague terms—as " Convict" Prisons (though, strictly, every offender—^the
misdemeanant as weU as the transport—^is after conviction a convict) and " Houses of Correc¬
tion," "Houses of Detention," "Bridewells," &c., to prevent us confoimding one species of
Criminal Prison with another.
Formerly every class of criminals and graduate in vice—from the simple novice to the
artful adept—^the debtor, the pickpocket, the burglar, the coiner, the poacher, the high¬
wayman, the vagrant, the murderer, the prostitute—were all of them huddled together in
one and the same place of durance, called the " Common Jail" (for even " Houses of Cor¬
rection"—for vagrants and thieves only—are comparatively modem inventions) ; and it was
not until the year 1823 that tiny systematic legal steps were taken to enforce a separation of
the great body of prisoners into classes, much more into individuals—^the latter being a
regulation of very recent date.
Of late years, however, we have made rapid advances towards the establishment of a
kind of criminal quarantine, in order to stay the spread of that vicious infection which is
found to accompany the association of the morally disordered with the comparatively uncon-
taminated ; for assuredly there is a criminal epidemic—a very plague, as it were, of profli¬
gacy fbat diffuses itself among the people with as much fatality to society as even the putrid
fever or black vomit.
Consequently it becomes necessary, whilst seeking here to arrange our present prisons
into something Uke system, to classify them according to the grades of offenders they are
designed to keep in safe custody ; for it is one of the marked features of oui "imes that
THE CRIMINAL PRISONS OF LONDON.
81
the old Common Jail is becoming as obsolete among us as bull-baiting, and that the one indis¬
criminate stronghold has been divided and parcelled out into many distinct places of
durance, where the reformation of the offender obtains more consideration, perhaps, than even
bis punishment.
Now the first main division of the criminal prisons of London is into—
Prisons for offenders before conviction ; and
Prisons for offenders after conviction.
This is not only the natural but jmt division of the subject, since it is now admitted that
society has no right to treat a man as a criminal until he has been proven to be one by the
laws of his country; and hence we have prisons for the untrieA—distinct from those for the
convict, or rather convicted.
The prisons for offenders after conviction are again divisible into places of confinement
for such as are condemned to longer or shorter terms of imprisonment. To the latter class of
institutions belong the Houses of Correction, to which a person may be sentenced for not
more than two years ; and Bridewells, to which a person may be condemned for not more
than three months.*
The prisons, on the other hand, for the reception of those condemned to Imger terms, such
• " There is a species of jail," says the new edition of Blackstone, " which does not fall under the sheriflf s
charge, hut is governed hy a keeper wholly independent of that officer. It is termed, by way of distinction from
the common jail, a House of Correction, or (in the City of London) a Bridewell. These houses of correction
(which Were first established, as it would seem, in the reign of Elizabeth) were originally designed for the
penal confinement, after conviction, of paupers refusing to work, and other persons falling under the legal
description of vagrant. And this was at first their only application, for in other cases the common jail of the
county, city, or town in which the offender was triable was (generally speaking) the only legal place of
commitment. The practice, however, in this respect was, to a certain extent, altered in the reign of George
I., when ' vagrants and other persons charged with small offences ' were, for the first time, allowed to be
committed to the house of correction for safe custody, before conviction ; and at a subsequent period it was
provided that, as to vagrants, the house of correction should be the only legal place of commitment. The
uses, however, of a jail of this description have been lately carried much farther ; for hy 5 and 6 William IV.,
c. 38, s. 34, reciting that great inconvenience and expense had been found to result from the committing to
the common jail, where it happens to he remote from the place of trial, it is enacted that a justice of the
peace or coroner may commit, for safe custody, to any house of correction situate near the place where the
assizes or sessions are to be held, and that offenders sentenced in those courts to death, transportation, or
imprisonment, may he committed in execution of such sentence to any house of correction for the county."—
Slepheni Blackstone, 3rd ed., vol. iii., p. 209.
The City Bridewell (Bridge Street, Blackfriars) has been closed for the last two years. The prison here
was originally a place of penal confinement for unruly apprentices, sturdy beggars, and disorderly persons
committed to jail for three month^ and less. Where the City Bridewell now stands there is said to have
been anciently a holy well of medicinal water, called St. Bride's Well, upon which was founded an hospital
for the poor. (Stowe, however, says nothing of this, speaking only of e. palace standing there.) After the
Reformation, Edward VI. chartered this to the City, and whilst Christchurch was dedicated to the education
of the young, and St. Thomas's Hospital, in the Borough, for the cure of the sick. Bridewell Hospital
was converted into a place of confinement and " penitentiary amendment " for unruly London apprentices
and disorderly persons, as well as sturdy beggars and vagrants. " Here," says Mr. Timhs, in his curious and
learned work on the Curiosities of London, " was a portrait of Edward VI. with these lines—
' This Edward of fair memory the Sixt,
In whom with Great Goodness was commlxt.
Gave this Bridewell, a palace in olden times.
For a Chastening House of vagrant crimes.' "
After this, the houses of correction in various parts of the country got to he called "bridewells"—the
particular name coming, in course of time, to be used as a general term for a place of penitentiary amend¬
ment A "house of correction" is now understood to be a place of safe custody, punishment, and
reformation, to which criminals are committed when sentenced to imprisonment for terms varying from
82
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
as transportation and "penal service," are those at Pentonville, Mülbank, and Brixton,
as well as the Hulks at Woolwich.
The prisons, moreover, which are for the reception of criminals before conviction, are
either—
Prisons in which offenders are confined while awaiting their trial after having been com¬
mitted by a magistrate—such as the prisons of Newgate and Horsemonger Lane, as well as
the House of Detention; or " Lock-ups," in which offenders are confined previous to being
brought up before, and committed by, the sitting magistrate—such as the cells at the various
station-houses.
According, then, to the above classification, the Criminal Prisons admit of being arranged
into the following groups :—
I. Peisons for Offendees After Conviction.
A. " Convict" Prisons*—for transports and "penal service" men.
1. Pentonville Prison.
2. Millbank Prison.
3. Female Convict Prison, Brixton.
4. Hulks, Woolwich.
B. " Correctional " Prisons—for persons sentenced to short terms of punishment.
1. City House of Correction (HoUoway).
2. Middlesex Houses of Correction.
a. Coldbath Fields Prison, for adult males.
b. TothUl Fields Prison, for boys and adult females.
8. Surrey House of Correction (Wandsworth Common).
II. Prisons foe Offendees Before Conviction.
A. Detentional Prisons—for persons after committal by a magistrate.
1. Middlesex House of Detention (Clerkenwell).
2. Newgate.
3. Horsemonger Lane Jail.f
B. Lodi-wps—for persons previous to committal by a magistrate.
1. Metropolitan Police CeRs.
2. City do do.J
*#* Of the Prison Populatim of Londm.—^The number of offenders said to pass annuaRy
through the metropoRtan prisons is stated at about 36,000. These statistics, however, are
of rather ancient date, and proceed from no very reRable source. We wRl therefore
endeavour to sum up, with as much precision as possible, the great army of criminals that
pass through the several jaRs of London in the course of the year :—
• This is the Government term the law distinguishing between a " oonviot " (or, literally, a convicted '
fehti) and a " convicted misdemeanant."
t This is the only existing Common Jail in London, i. the only place where debtors are still confined
under the same roof as felons.
J The cant or thieves' names for the several London prisons or " sturbons " (Ger. gestorben, dead, and
hence a place of execution), is as follows :—
Pentonville Prison
. The Model.
Millbank Prison
„ 'Tench (abbreviated from Penitentiary).
The Hulks, or any Public Works
„ Boat.
House of Correction, Coldbath Fields .
„ Steel,
House of Correction, Tothill Fields .
„ Bourns.
City Bridewell, Bridge Street, Blackfriars .
„ Old Eorst,
Newgate
„ Start.
Horsemonger Lane Jail ....
„ Lam.
THE CEIMINAL PEISONS OF LGITDGN.
83
nthtbee of peisonees "passing theough" the london peisons dubing the teae.
PentonviEe Prison (a.d. 1854-5) 925
MiEbank „ „ 2,461
Brixton „ „ ... . 664
HiEks ,, „ ... . 1,513
Total Population of the London Convict Prisons . . 5,563
City House of Correction (a.d. 1854-5) . . . 1,978
Coldbath-fields „ „ . . . 7,743
TothEl Fields „ „ .... 7,268
Surrey „ „ .... 5,170
Total Population of the Correctional Prisons . . 22,159
House of Detention . . . . ' . . . . 11,262
Newgate • . 1,840
Horsemonger Lane JaE ...... 3,010
Total Population of the Detentional Prisons . . 16,112
Grand Total of the Population of the London Prisons . 43,834
MetropoEtan PoEce Stations (1854) .... 76,614
City PoEce Stations „ 4,487
Total Population of the London PoEce Stations . 81,101
Total Population of aE London Prisons and Lock-ups . 124,935*
But a considerable proportion of this large number of prisoners appear more than once in
the returns, as they pass from the poEce-stations, after committal by the magistrates, to the
detentional prisons, there to await their trial, and are thence transferred, after conviction,
either to correctional or "convict" prisons, according as they are condemned to longer or
shorter terms of imprisonment. Moreover, even of those condemned to three, or indeed to
six, months' imprisonment, many appear repeatedly in the aggregate of the correctional
prisons for the entire year; so that it becomes extremely difficult to state, with any exactitude,
what may be the number of different offenders who enter the London prisons in the course
of twelve months. The sum-total may, however, be roughly estimated at about 20,000
individuals ; for this is a Ettle less than the aggregate of the convict and correctional prisons
of the Metropolis, and of course includes those passing first through the detentional prisons
and lock-ups, the difference between that aggregate and the sum of the convict and correc¬
tional prisons being a set7off against those who appear more than once in the year at the
houses of correction.
This, however, is the mccesswe prison population for the whole year; the simtdta/neom prison
population, on the other hand, for any period of the year, maybe cited at somewhere
about 6,000 individuals; for, according to the Government returns, there were at the time
of taking the last Census rather more than that number of criminals confined within
• The returns above given rest upon the following authority :—The number of criminals in the convict
prisons is quoted from the Reports of those prisons. The numbers of the correctional and detentional prisons
have been kindly and expressly furnished by the Governors of those institutions respectively; whilst
those of the Metropolitan Police are copied from the last report on the subject, and those of the City Police
supplied by the Commissioner.
The number of debtors confined in the Metropolitan prisons in the siunmer of 1855 was as follows
Whitecross Street Prison (on the 18th August, 1855) .... 233
Queen's Bench „ .... 134
Horsemonger Lane Jail (on the 20th August, 1855) .... 46
413
84
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
the metropolitan jaile—and this is very nearly the population of the entire town of Folke¬
stone.*
Further, the gross annual expense of these same criminal prisons of London is about
£170,000, or very nearly one-third of aU the prisons in England and Wales, which, according
to the Government returns, cost, in round numbers, £385,000 per annum.f
*#* Of the Character of the London Criminals.—In the Report of the Constabulary Com¬
missioners, published in 1837, and which remains the most trustworthy and practical treatise
on the criminal classes that has yet been published—the information having been derived
from the most eminent and experienced prison and police authorities—^there is a definition
of predatory crime, which expresses no theoretical view of the subject, but the bare fact—
referring habitual dishonesty neither to ignorance nor to drunkenness, nor to poverty, nor to
over-crowding in towns, nor to temptation from surroimding wealth, nor, indeed, to any one
of the many indirect causes to which it is sometimes referred, but simply declaring it to
"proceed from a disposition to acquire property with a less degree of labour than ordinary
industry." Hence the predatory class are the non-working class—that is to say, those who
* The gross number of prisoners passing through the prisons of England and Wales, in the course of the
year 1849, was as under:—
Criminals of both sexes 157,273
Debtors 9,669
Total 166,942
Hence it follows that the criminals passing annually through the London prisons (43,834) form more than
one-thirdof the entire number passing, in the same period, through all the prisons of England and Wales; for
out of every 1000 offenders entering the jails throughout the whole country during the twelvemonth, 284
appear in the jails of London alone.
Such is the successive ratio between the prisoners confined in the London prisons, and those of all England
and Wales. The simultaneous ratio on the other hand is as follows :—
The number of prisoners (debtors inclusive) confined in the prisons of England and Wales on the day
of taking the last Census was 23,768
The number of prisoners confined in the London prisons on the same day 6,188
Thus it appears that in every 1000 prisoners confined in the prisons of England an4 Wales at one and the
same time, 280 belong to London.
t The total yearly expense of the several London prisons (exclusive of repairs, alterations, and additions),
a"d the average cost per head, is as follows :—
Total Expense.
Expense
per Head.
timviet Prisons —
£ s.
d.
£ s, d.
Fentonville (a.d. 1854-55)
9
26 11 8
Millhank „
. 33,175 0
6
25 10 4
Brixton „
. 12,218 0
0
17 9 1
Hulks at Woolwich
10
27 13 0
Correctional Prisons—
Coldbath Fields
1
21 13 3
Tothill Fields (a.d. 1849)
0
19 9 lOè
City House of Corree ion, Holloway (A.n. 1854-55) .
. 4,599 3
H
25 7 lOi
Surrey House of Correction, Wandsworth „
. 12,158 4
4
18 8 7i
Detentioncd Prisons— •
House of Detention (a.D. 1854-55) . ...
. 7,141 9
1
55 4 2
Newgate „ ....
. 5,800 6
2
37 8 2
Horsemonger Lane Jail (inclusive of debtors) „ .
. 4,693 1
9
30 0 8f
Now, by the above list, the items of which have heen mostly supplied expressly for thisAvork by tJie
officials, it will be found that the total expense of all the London prisons for one year amounts to
£158,733 1«. Id.-, whilst, according to the Fifteenth Eeport of the Frison Inspectors, the total expense of
all the prisons in England and Wales is £385,704 18s. so that the cost of the London prisons is
nearly one-half of those throughout the whole of the country.
CONVICTS.
(From Photograplis by Herbert Watklns, 179, Regent Street.)
MALH CONVIUT AT l'ENTONVILLE I'RISOX. | FEMAt.E CONVICT AT MlLLKANlv FRISON.
THE CKIMIHAL PEISOHS OE LONDON.
87
love to " shake a free leg," and lead a roving life, as they term it, rather than settle down
to any continuous employment.
To inquire, therefore, into the mode and means of living peculiar to the criminal classes,
involves an investigation into the character and causes of crime. Crime, vice, and sin are
three terms used for the infraction of three different kinds of laws—social, moral, and
religious. Crime, for instance, is the transgression of some social law, even as vice is the
breach of some moral law, and sin the violation of some religious one. These laws often
differ only ih emanating from different authorities, the infraction of them being simply an
offence against a different power. To thieve, however, is to offend, at once socially, morally,
and religiously ; for not only does the social, but the moral and religious law, one and aU,
enjoin that we should respect the property of others.
But there are offences against the social powers other than those committed by
such as object to labour for their livelihood; for the crimes perpetrated by the professional
criminals are, so to speak, hahitual ones, whereas those perpetrated occasionally by the
other classes of society are accidental crimes, arising from the pressure or concomitance of
a variety of circumstances.
Here, then, we have a most important and fundamental distinction. All crimes, and
consequently all criminals, are divisible into two different classes, the habitual a/nd the camial
—^that is to say, there are two distinct orders of people continually offending against the
laws of society, viz. (1) those who indulge in dishonest practices as a regular means of
living ; (2) those who are dishonest from some accidental cause.
Now, it is impossible to arrive at any accurate knowledge of the subject of crime and
criminals generally, without first making this analysis of the several species of offences
according to their causes ; or, in other words, without arranging them into distinct groups
or classes, according as they arise, either from an habitual indisposition to labour on the part
of some of the offenders, or from the temporary pressure of circumstances upon others.
The ofldcial returns on this subject are as unphilosophic as the generality of such
documents, and consist of a crude mass of incongruous facts, being a statistical illustration of
the "rudis indigestaque moles" in connection with a criminal chaos, and where a murderer is
classed in the same category with the bigamist, a sheep-stealer with the embezzler, and the
■Irish rebel or traitor grouped with the keeper of a disorderly house, and he, again, with the
poacher and perjurer.
Thus the several crimes committed throughout the country are officially arranged imder
four heads :—
1. Offsnces against the person—^including murder, rape, bigamy, attempts to procure
miscarriage, and common assaults.
2. Offences agadnst property, (a) With violence—as burglary, robbery, piracy, and
sending menacing letters. (b) "Without violence—including cattle-stealing,
larceny by servants, embezzling, and cheating, (c) Malicious offences against
property—as arson, incendiarism, maiming cattle, &c.
3. Forgery, a/nd offences agadnst the cmrency—^under which head are comprised the
forging of wiUs, bank notes, and coining.
4. Other offences—including high treason, poaching, working illicit stills, peijury,
brothel-keeping, &c.
M. Guerry, the eminent Erench statist, adopts a far more philosophic Rangement, and
divides the several crimes into—
1. Crimes agadnst the State—as high treason, &c.
2. Crimes agadnst personal safety—as murder, assault, &o.
3. Crimes agadnst morals (with or without violence)—as rape, bigamy, &c.
4. Crimes agadmst property (proceeding from cupidity, or malice)—as larceny, embezzle¬
ment, incendiarism, and the like.
88
THE GKEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
The same fundamental error, however, which renders the legal and official classification
comparatively worthless, deprives that of the French philosopher of all practical value. It
gives us no knowledge of the people committing the crimes, since the offences are classified
according to the objects against which they are committed, rather than the causes and
passions giving rise to them ; and such an arrangement consequently sinks into a mere system
of criminal mnemonics, or easy method of remembering the several crimes. The classes in
both systems are but so many mental pigeon-holes for the arbitrary separation of the various
infractions of the law, and farther than this they cannot serve us.
Whatever other information the inquirer may desire, he must obtain for himself. If he
wish to leam something as to the causes of the crimes, and consequently as to the character
and passions of the criminals themselves, he must begin de novo ; and using the official facts,
but rejecting the official system of classification, proceed to arrange all the several offences
into two classes, according as they are of a professional or casual character, committed by-
habitual or occasional offenders.
Adopting this principle, it wiU be found that the crimes committed by the casual
offenders consist mainly of murder, assaults, incendiarism, ravishment, bigamy, em¬
bezzlement, high treason, and the like ; for it is evident that none can make a trade
or profession of the commission of these crimes, or resort to them as a regular means of
subsistence.
The habitual crimes, on the other hand, wiU be generally found to include burglary,
robbery, poaching, coining, smuggling, working of illicit stills, larceny from the person,
simple larceny, &c., because each and aU of these are regular crafts, requiring almost the
same apprenticeships as any other mode of life—^house-breaking, and picking pockets, and
working illicit stills, being crafts to which no man without some previous training can adapt
himself.
Hence, to ascertain whether the number of these dishonest handicrafts—^for such they
really are—^be annually on the increase or not, is to solve the most important portion of the
criminal problem. It is to learn whether crime pursued as a special profession or husiness
is being augmented among us—to discover whether the criminal class, as a distinct body of
people, is or is not on the advance.
The casual or accidental crimes, on the other hand, wiU furnish us -with equally curious
results, showing a yearly impress of the character of the times ; for these, heing only occasional
offences, the number of such offenders in different years will of course give us a knowledge
of the intensity of the several occasions inducing the crimes of such years.
The accidental crimes, classified according to their causes, may be said to consist of
1. Crimes of Brutality and Malice, exercised either against the person or property of
the object—as murder, intents to maim or do bodily harm, manslaughter,
assaults, killing and maiming cattle, ill-treating animals, malicious destruction
of property, setting fire to crops, arson, &c.
2. Crimes of Lust, Perverted Appetites, and Indecency—as rape, carnally abusing girls,
unnatural crimes, indecently exposing the person, bigamy, abduction, &c.
3. Crimes of Shame—as concealing the birth of infants, attempts to procure mis¬
carriage, &c.
4. Crimes of Temptation, or Cupidity, with or without breach of trust—as embezzle¬
ment, larceny by servants, illegal pawning, forgery, &c.
5. Crimes of Evil Speaking—as perjury, slander, libel, sending menacing letters, &c.
6. Crimes of Political Prejudices—as high treason, sedition, &c.
Those who resort to crime as a means of subsistence when in extreme want, cannot be
said to belong to those who prefer idleness to labouring for their living, since many such
would willingly wórk to increase their sustenance, if that end were attainable by these means ;
but the poor shirt-makers, slop-tailors, and the like, have not the power of earning more
THE CRIMINAL PRISONS OF LONDON.
89
than the barest subsistence by their labour, so that the pawning of the work intrusted to
them by their employers becomes an act to which they are immediately impelled for " dear
life," on the occurrence of the least illness or mishap among them. Such offenders, therefore,
belong more properly to those who cannot work for their living, or rather, cannot live by
their working ; and though they offend against the laws in the same manner as those who
object to work, they certainly cannot be said to belong to the same class.
The habitual criminals, on the other hand, are a distinct body of people. Such classes ap¬
pertain to even the rudest nations, they being, as it were, the human parasites of every civilized
and barbarous community. The Hottentots have their " Sonquas," and the Kaffirs their
"Fingoes," as we have our "prigs" and " cadgers." Those who object to labour for the
food they consume appear to be part and parcel of every State—an essential element of the
social fabric. Go where you will—to whai comer of the earth you please—search out or
propound what new-fangled or obsolete form of society you may—^you will be sure to find some
members of it more apathetic than the rest, who will object to work ; even as there will be
some more infirm than others, who are unable, though willing, to earn their own living ; and
some, again, more thrifty, who, from their pmdence and their savings, will have no need to
labour for their subsistence.
These several forms are but the necessary consequences of specific differences in the
constitution of different beings. Circumstances may tend to give an unnatural development
to either one or the other of the classes. The criminal class, the pauper class, or the wealthy
class may be in excess in one form of society as compared with another, or they may be
repressed by certain social arrangements—^nevertheless, to a greater or less degree, there they
will, and, we believe, rmtst ever be.
Since, then, there is an essentially distinct class of persons who have an innate aversion to
any settled industry, and since work is a necessary condition of the human organization, the
question becomes, " How do such people live ?" There is but one answer—If they will not
labour to procure their own food, of course they must live on the food procured by the labour
of others.
The means by which the criminal classes obtain their living constitute the essential points
of difference among them, and form, indeed, the methods of distinction among themselves.
The "Rampsmen," the "Drummers," the "Mobsmen," the " Sneaksmen," and the "Sho-
fulmen," which are the terms by which the thieves themselves designate the several branches
of the "profession," are but so many expressions indicating the several modes of obtaining
the property of which they become possessed.
The " Rampsman," or " Craelcsman," plunders by force—as the burglar, footpad, &c.
The "Drummer" plunders by stupefaction—as the " hocusser."
The " Mobsmard' plunders by manual dexterity—as the pickpocket.
The " Sneaksmm" plimders by stealth—as the petty-larceny boy. And
The " Shofulman" plunders by counterfeits—-as the coiner.
Now, each and all of these are a distinct species of the criminal genus, having little or no
connection with the others. The "cracksman," or housebreaker, would no more think of
associating with the " sneaksman," than a barrister would dream of sitting dovm to dinner
with an attorney. The perils braved by the housebreaker or the footpad, make the cowardice
of the sneaksman contemptible to him ; and the one is distinguished by a kind of bull-dog
insensibility to danger, while the other is marked by a low, cat-like cunning. '
The "Mobsman," on the other hand, is more of a handicraftsman than either, and is
comparatively refined, by the society he is obliged to keep. He usually dresses in the same
elaborate style of fashion as a Jew on a Saturday (in which case he is more particularly described
by the prefix " swell"), and " mixes" generally in the " best of company," frequenting,
for the purposes of business, all the places of public entertainment, and often being a regular
attendant at church, and the more elegant chapels—especially during charity sermons. The
90
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
mobsman takes his name from the gregarious habits of the class to which he belongs, it being
necessary for the successful picking of pockets that the work be done in small gangs or mobs,
so as to " cover" the operator.
Among the sneaksmen, again, the purloiners of animals (such as the horse-stealers, the
sheep-stealers, &c.) aU—with the exception of the dog-stealers—^belong to a particular tribe;
these are agricultural thieves ; whereas the mobsmen are generally of a more civic character.
The shofulmen, or coiners, moreover, constitute another species ; and upon them, like
the others, is impressed the stamp of the peculiar line of roguery they may chance to follow
as a means of subsistence.
Such are the more salient features of that portion of the habitually dishonest classes, who
live by taking what they want from others. The other moiety of the same class, who live
by getting what they want given to them, is equally peculiar. These consist of the " Flat-
catchers," the "Hunters," and " Charley* Pitchers," the "Bouncers," and "Besters," the
"Cadgers," and the "Yagrants."
The " Flat-catchers" obtain their means by false pretences—as swindlers, duflPers, ring-
droppers, and cheats of aU. kinds.
The " Sunters" and " Charley Pitchers" Uve by low gaming—as thimblerig-men.
The "Bouncers" and "Besters" by betting, intimidating, or talking people out of their
property.
The " Cadgers," by begging and exciting false sympathy.
The "Vagrants," by declaring on the casual ward of the parish workhouse.
Each of these, again, are unmistakably distinguished from the rest. The " Flat-catchers"
are generaUy remarkable for great shrewdness, especiaUy in the knowledge of human charac¬
ter, and ingenuity in designing and carrying out their several schemes. . The " Charley
Pitchers" appertain more to the conjuring or sleight-of-hand and black-leg class. The
" Cadgers," on the other hand, are to the class of cheats what the " Sneaksman" is to the
thieves—the lowest of aU—^being the least distinguished for those characteristics which mark
the other members of the same body. As the " Sneaksman" is the least daring and expert
of aU the "prigs," so is the " Cadger" the least intellectual and cunning of aU the cheats. A
" ShaUow cove"—^that is to say, one who exhibits himself half-naked in the streets, as a
means of obtaining his Uving—^is looked upon as the most despicable of aU creatures,
since the act requires neither courage, inteUect, nor dexterity for the execution of it.
Lastly, the " Vagrants" are the wanderers—the English Bedouins—those who, in their own
words, "love to shake a free leg"—the thoughtless and the careless vagabonds of our race.
Such; then, are the characters of the habitual criminals, or professionaUy dishonest
classes—the vagrants, beggars, cheats, and thieves—each order expressing some different
mode of existence adopted by those who hate, working for their living. The vagrants, who
lové a roving life, exist principaUy by declaring on the parish funds for the time being ; the
beggars, as deficient in coxirage and inteUect as in pride, prefer to live by soUciting alms
from the pubUc ; the cheats, possessed of considerable cunning and ingenidty, choose rather
to subsist by fraud and deception ; the thieves, distinguished generaUy by a hardihood and
comparative disregard of danger, find greater deUght in risking their Uberty and taking
what they want, instead of waiting to have it given to them.
In prisons, the criminals are usuaUy divided into first, second, and third class prisoners,
according to the amount of education they have received. Among the first, or weU-educated
class, are generaUy to be found the casual criminals, as forgers, embezzlers, &c. ; the second, or
imperfectly educated class, contains a large proportion of the town criminals—as pickpockets,
smashers, thimblerig-men, &c. ; whilst the third, or comparatively uneducated class, is mostly
• A " Charley Pitcher" seems to be one who pitches to the Ceorla (A. S. for countryman), and hcncc is
equivalent to the term Tohd-hunUr.
THE CRIMINAL PRISONS OE LONDON.
91
made up of the lower kind of city thieves, as well as the agricultural labourers who have turned
sbeep-stealers, and the like. Of these three classes, the first and the last furnish the greater
number of cases of reformation, whilst the middle class is exceedingly difficult of real
improvement, though the most ready of all to feign conversion.
As regards the criminal period of life, we shall find, upon calculating the ratio between
the criminals of different ages, that by far the largest proportion of such people is to be found
between the ages of 15 and 25. This period of life is known to physiologists to he that at
which the character or ruling principle is developed. Up to fifteen, the wül or volition of an
individual is almost in abeyance, and the youth consequently remains, in the greater number of
cases, under the control of his parents, acting according to their directions. After fifteen, how¬
ever, the parental dominion begins to be shaken off, and the being to act for himself, having
acquired, as the phrase runs, " a wül of his own." This is the most dangerous time of
fife to aU characters ; whüst to those who fall among bad companions, or whose natures
are marked by vicious impulses, it is a term of great trouble and degradation. The
ratio between the population of 15 and 25 years of age and that of aU ages, throughout Eng¬
land and Wales, is but 19-0 per cent. ; whereas the ratio between prisoners from 15 to 25 years
old and those of aU ages is, for England and "Wales, as high as 48-7 ; and for the Metropolis,
49*6 per cent.; so that whilst the young men and women form hardly one-fifth of all classes,
they constitute very nearly one-half of the criminal class. The boys in prison are found to
be the most difficult to deal with, for among these occur the greater number of refractory
cases.*
§ 1—a.
THE LONDON CONVICT PEISONS AND THE CONVICT POPULATION.
The Convict Prisons of the Metropolis, as we have shown, consist of four distinct establish¬
ments—distinct, not only in their localities, but also in the character of their construction,
as well as in the discipline to which the inmates are submitted. At Pentonville Prison,
for instance, the convicts are treated under a modified form of the " separate system"—at
Millbank the "mixed system" is in force ; and, at the Hulks, on the other hand, the prisoners,
though arranged in wards, have but little restraint imposed upon their intercommunication ;
* The following tables, copied from the Census of 1851, furnish the data for the above statements
AGES OE PEI80NEES IN ENGLAND AND WALES.
5 to 10
years
old 20
From 40 to 45
years old
1,278
From 75 to 80 years old 23
10 „ 15
»
875
„ 45 „ 50
826
,, 80 ,, 85
13
15 „ 20
JÎ
5,081
1, 50 „ 55
»
684
„ 85 „ 90
3
20 „ 25
JÍ
6,496
„ 55 „ 60
333
,, 90 ,, 95
1
25 „ 30
»
3,693
„ 60 „ 65
>
267
30 „ 35
2,402
„ 65 „ 70
λ
132
Total of ag
es 23,768
35 „ 40
«
1,568
„ 70 „ 75
77
73
Per centage of prisoners between 15 and 25 to those of all ages, 48'7
Total population of all ages in England and "Wales . . . , . .
Ditto between 15 and 25 years in ditto . . - . . .
Percentage of persons between 15 and 26 years to persons of all ages, 19-0
AGES OF PEISONEES IN LONDON PEISONS.
From 6 to 10 years old 1 • From 35 to 40 years old 362
17,927,609
3,423,769
))
10
15
299
»»
40
II
45
II
325
II 70 „ 75 „
4
»
15
»
20
1,413
»
45
II
60
II
223
II 75 „ 80 ,,
II 30 ,, 85 „
1
»
20
)»
25
1,659
50
II
55
II
191
1
«
25
»
30
863
)>
55
II
60
II
81
n
30
n
35
596
»
60
1»
65
II
39
Total of all ages
6,188
25
Per centage of London prisoners between 15 and 25 to those of all ages, 49*6.
92
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
whilst at Erixton, which is an establishment for female convicts only, a different course of
treatment, again, is adopted.
The convict prisons, with the exception of the Hulks, were formerly merely the receiving-
houses for those who had been sentenced by law to be banished, or rather transported,
from the kingdom.
The system of transportation is generally dated as far back as the statute for - the banish¬
ment of dangerous rogues and vagabonds, which was passed in the 39th year of Elizabeth's
reign; and James I. was the first to have felons transported to America, for in a letter he
commanded the authorities " to send a hundred dissolute persons to Virginia, that the Knight-
Marshal was to deliver for that purpose."
Transportation, however, is not spoken of in any Act of Parliament until the 18th Charles
II., c. 3, which empowers the judges either to sentence the moss-troopers of Cumberland and
Northumberland to be executed or transported to America for life. Nevertheless, this mode
of punishment was not commonly resorted to prior to the year 1718 (4th George I., c. 2) ;
for, by an Act passed in that year, a discretionary power was given to judges to order felons,
who were entitled to the benefit of clergy, to be transported to the American plantations ; and,
under this and other Acts, transportation to America continued from the year 1718 till the
commencement of the War of Independence, 1775. During that period, England was
repeatedly reproached by foreign nations for banishing, as felons, persons whose offences
were comparatively venial—one John Eyre, Esq., a gentleman of fortune, having, among
others, been sentenced to transportation for stealing a few quires of paper (November Ist,
1771) ; and, even as recently as the year 1818, the Eev. Dr. HaUoran having been trans¬
ported for forging a frank to cover a tenpenny postage.
After the outbreak of the American "War, a plan for the establishment of penitentiaries
was taken into consideration by Parliament, but not carried out with any vigour ; for in the
year 1784, transportation was resumed, and an Act passed, empowering the King in councü
to transport offenders to any place beyond the seas, either within or without the British
dominions, as his Majesty might appoint ; and two years afterwards an order in council was
published, fixing upon the eastern coast of Australia, and the adjacent islands, as the future
penal colonies. In the month of May, 1787, the first band of transports left this country for
Botany Bay, and in the succeeding year, founded the colony of New South "Wales.
This system of transporting felons to Australia continued in such force that, in fifty years
from the date of its introduction (1787—1836), 100,000 convicts (including 13,000 women)
had been shipped off from this country to the Australian penal colonies. This is at the rate
of 2,000 per annum ; and according to the returns published up to the time that the practice
was modified by Parliament, such would appear to have been the average number of felons
annually sent out of the coimtry : thus—
the Kingdom at the beginning of the year was
The number received during the year
The total convict poprdation dirring the year .
The number embarked for penal settlements, and otherwise dis]
of
The number remaining in convict prisons at the end of the year .
• The numbers embarked in these years for the penal colonies were 2,224 in 1861, and 2,346 in 1862.
There were, moreover, 37 convicts in 1861, and 43 in 1862 removed, to other institutions ; and 147 pardoned
in the first year, and 126 in the second. Besides these, 9 escaped, and 111 died in the one year, and 14 and
137 in the other year.
In 1851.
it
1852.
. 6,130
6,572
. 2,903
2,953
. 9,033
9,525
u
. 2,548
2,658*
. 6,485
6,867
THE "DEFENCE" HULK AND THE "UNITE" CONVICT HOSTITAL SHIP, OFF WOOLWICH.
THE CONVICT PRISONS OP LONDON.
95
In the month of August, 1853, an Act (16 and 17 Vict., c. 99) was passed, "to substi¬
tute, in certain cases, other punishment in Heu of transportation and by this it was ordained,
that " whereas, by reason of the diíEculty of transporting offenders beyond the seas, it has
become expedient to substitute some otber punishmenttherefore, "no person shall be sen¬
tenced to transportation for any term less than fourteen years, and only those conveyed be¬
yond the seas who have been sentenced to transportation for life, or for fourteen years and
upwards;" so that transportation for the term of seven or ten years was then and there
aboHshed, a term of four years' penal servitude being substituted in Heu of the former,
and six years' penal servitude instead of the latter.
This Act was passed, we repeat, in August 1853, and accordingly we find a great
difference in the number of convicts embarked in that and the foUowing years, the Govern¬
ment returns being as foUows :—
In 1853. 1854. 1855.
The number of convicts remaining in the convict prisons through¬
out the kingdom, at the beginning of the year, was . . 6,873 7,718 7,744
The number received during the year .... 2,354 2,378 2,799
The total convict population
Disposed of during the year—
Embarked for Western AustraHa,
and Gibraltar
Removed to other institutions
Pardoned
Escaped
Expiration of sentence
Died .
Total disposed of
9,227 10,096 10,543
In 1853.
1854.
1855.
. 700
280
1,312
. 45
29
66
. 560
1,826
2,491
4
8
17
0
6
6
. 158
173
114
1,467 2,322 4,006
The number remaining in the convict prisons at the end of the year 7,760 7,774 6,537
Hence we perceive that, though the Act for aboHshing the shorter terms of transportation
was passed only at the end of the summer of 1853, the number of transports embarked in
the course of the year, had decreased from 2,224 in 1851, and 2,345 in 1852, to 700 in 1853,
280 in 1854, and 1,312 in 1855; whilst the number of pardons, which was only 147 in
1851, and 125 in 1852, had risen as high as 560 in 1853, and 1,826 in 1854, and 2,491 in
1855—no less than 276 convicts having been Hberated in the course of 1853, and 1,801 in
1854, and 2,459 in 1855, under " an order of Heense," or ticket-of-leave, as it is sometimes
caUed, an item which, tiU lately, had not made its appearance in the home convict returns.
Now, it forms no part of our present object to weigh the advantages and disadvantages
of the altered mode of dealing with our convicts. We have only to set forth the history
and statistics of the matter, for we purpose, in this section, merely estimating the convict
population of the MetropoHs, and comparing it with that of the country in general.
Well, by the preceding returns we have shown that the convict population of Great
Britain averages rather more than 9,000 individuals, whilst the convict population of
the MetropoHs may be stated at upwards of 3,000, so that London would appear to contain
about one-third of the whole, or as many convicts as there are people in the town of
Epsom.
We have shown, moreover, that this same convict population is annually increased by
an influx of between 2,000 and 3,000 fresh prisoners, so that in a few years the band of
convicted felons would amount to a considerable army among us if retained at home. Nor
96
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
do we say this with any view to alarm society as to the dangers of abolishing transpor¬
tation, for, in our opinion, it is nnworthy of a great and wise nation to make a moral dnst-hin
of its colonies, and, by thrusting the refuse of its population from under its nose, to believe
that it is best consulting the social health of its people at home. Our present purpose is
simply to draw attention to the fact that—despite our array of schools, and prison-chaplains,
and refined systems of penal discipline, and large army of police, besides the vast increase of
churches and chapels—our felon population increases among us as fast as fungi in a rank
and foetid atmosphere.
Now the gross cost of maintaining our immense body of convicted felons is not very far
short of a quarter of a million of money, the returns of 1854-5 showing that the maintenance
and guardianship of 8,359 convicts cost, within a fraction, £219,000, which is at the rate of
about £26 per head.
The cost of the four London establishments would appear to be altogether £86,600
a-year, which is, upon an average, £24 13«. 2d. for the food and care of each man.*
• The following table is abridged from the returns of the Surveyor-General of Prisons
COMPARATIVE ABSTRACT OP THE ESTIMATES FOR THE MAINTENANCE OP THE CONVICT PRISONS FOR THE
YEAR 1854-5, SHOWING THE AMOUNT UNDER EACH HEAD OP SERVICE, THE NUMBER OP PRISONERS,
AND THE COST PER HEAD.
Heads or Service.
Pentokville.
561 Prisoners.
MILLBANE.
1,300 Prisoners.
Brixton.
700 Prisoners.
Woolwich Hulks.
951 Prisoners.
SUVHABT OF GOVEBN-
HBNT PBISOMS.
8,359 Prisoners.
Gross Cost.
Cost per
prisoner
Gross Cost.
Cost per
prisoner
Gross Cost.
Cost per
prisoner
Gross Cost.
Cost per
prisoner
Gross Cost.
Cost pet
prisonei
Salaries of Principal
Officers and Clerks,
and Wages of Infe¬
rior Officers and Ser¬
vants, and of Manu¬
facturing or Labour
Department . . .
£ 0. d.
5,971 6 6
£
10
0. d,
12 10
£ 0.
13,371 0
d.
6
£ 0.
10 5
d.
8
£ 0.
8,373 10
d.
0
£ 0. d.
4 16 2
£ 0. d.
8,214 5 7
£ 0.
8 12
d.
»
£ Ö.
72,014
d.
3 6
£ 0. d.
8 12 4
Cost of Rations and
Uniforms for Offi¬
cers and Servants .
730 0
0
1
6
0
2,244 0
0
1 14
6
530
0
0
0 15 2
1,782 11 10
1 17
5
13,920
0
0
1 13 3
Victualling Prisoners
5,115 2
0
9
2
0
9,750 0
0
7 10
0
4,900
0
0
7 0 0
9,034 10 0
9 10
0
74,816
2
0
8 19 0
Clothing Prisoners
1,262 6
0
2
5
0
2,600 0
0
2 0
0
1,225
0
0
1 15 0
2,853 0 0
3 0
0
24,841
5
0
2 19 5
Redoing Prisoners .
147 5
3
0
5
3
325 0
0
0 5
0
175
0
0
0 5 0
475 10 0
0 10
0
2,773
5
3
0 6, 8
Clothing and Travel¬
ling Expenses of Pri¬
soners on Liberation
50 0
0
0
1
9
30 0
0
0 0
e
250
0
0
0 7 1
1,066 2 10
1 2
5
6,380
0
0
0 IS S
Fuel and Light for
General Purposes .
700 0
0
1
4
10
3,000 0
0
2 6
2
800
0
0
1 2 10
675 4 S
0 14
2
10,450
0
0
ISO
Other Expenses . .
947 0
0
1
13
1
1,855 0
0
1 8
6
964 10
0
1 7 10
2,196 5 2
2 6
S
18,767
0
0
1 12 11
Gross Total ....
14,912 18
9
26 11
8
33,175 0
6
25 10
4
12,218
0
017 9 1
26,297 9 10
27 13
0
218,961 IS
g
26 3 10
The following is an estimate of the cost of transporting and taking care of 100,000 convicts in the penal
colonies, from the year 1786 to March 1837—about fifty years :—
Cost of Transport £2,729,790
Disbursement for General Convict and Colonial Services . 4,091,581
Military Expenditure 1,632,302
Ordnance 29,846
Total . £8,483,619
Deduct for Premium on Bills . . . , 507,195
£7,976,324
ihe average cost of transport for each convict was £28 per head, and the various expenses of residence and
OF PEISON DISCIPLINE.
97
§ 1-a.
OF PRISON DISCIPLINE.
We have said that at each of the different prisons of the Metropolis a different mode of treatment, or
discipline, is adopted towards the prisoners. Hence it becomes expedient, in order that the general reader
may be in a position to judge as to the character of the London prisons, that we should give a brief account
of the several kinds of prison discipline at present in force.
Condition of the Prisons in the Olden Time.—The history of prison improvements in tbis cmmtry
begins with the labours of Howard. In the year 1775 he published his work entitled, " The State of the
Prisons in England and Wales; " and in the first section of this he gave a summary of the abuses which then
existed in the management of criminals. These abuses were principally of a physical and moral kind.
Under the one head were comprised—bad food, bad ventilation, and bad drainage ; and under the other—
want of classification, or separation among the inmates, so that each prison was not only a scene of riot and
lawless revelry, and filth and fever, but it was also a college for young criminals, where the juvenile offender
could be duly educated in vice by the more experienced professors of iniquity.*
Formerly, we are told, the prisons were farmed out to individuals, willing to take charge of the inmates
punishment £54; or, altogether, £82 per head. The average annual expense entailed upon this country by
the penal colonies, since the commencement of transportation to 1837, amounted to £160,000.
Since the latter period, however, the cost of transportation and maintenance of convicts abroad has
considerably increased, the Government estimate for the Convict Service for 1852-3 having been as follows '—
Transport to Australian Colonies ... . £95,000
Transport to Bermuda and Gibraltar 6,041
Convict Service at Australian Colonies . 188,744
Convict Service at Bermuda and Gibraltar .... 48,842
£338,627
In 1853 there were 6,212 convicts in Australia, and 2,650 in Bermuda and Gibraltar.
The gross annual expense for the convict service in 1852-3, inclusive of the convict prisons at home,
was estimated by the Surveyor-General at £587,294; whereas the estimates for the modification of the
system, in substituting imprisonment at home for a proportion of the sentences of transportation abroad, are
£337,336.
EETUBN SHEWING THE NUMBEK OP CONVICTS WHO AEElVEl} AT VAN DIEMEN'S LAND IN EACH TEAK
POK 20 TEAKS, FEOM THE IST OP JANUAKT, 1831 TO 31ST OP DECEHBEK, 1850.
Years. Number of Years. Number of Years. Number of
Arrivals. Arrivals, Arrivals.
Years.
Number of
Arrivals.
1831
2,241
1832
1,401
1833
2,672
1834
1,531
1845
2,493
Total in each
5 years
10,338
1836 2,565 1841 3,488 1846 2,444
1837 1,547 1842 5,520 1847..: ..1,186
1838 2,224 1843 3,727 1848 1,158
1839 1,441 1844 4,966 1849 1,729
1840 1,365 1845 3,357 1850 2,894
9,142 21,058 9,411
Total in each 10 years. .19,480 30,469
Total in 20 years 49,949
Average per annum 2,497
• It appears, by parliamentary returns, says the Hfth Report of the Prison Discipline Society, that, in the year 1818, out
of 518 prisons in the Dnited Kingdom (to which upwards of 107,000 persons were committed in the course of that year)
in 23 of such prisons only the inmates were separated or divided according to law ; in 59 of the number, there was no division
whatever—not even separation of males from females; in 136 there was only one division of the inmates into separate classes
though the 24th George III., cap. 54, had enjoined that eleven such divisions should be made ; in 68 there were hut two
divisions, and so on ; whilst in only 23 were the prisoners separated according to the statute. Again, in 445 of the 518 prisons
no work of any description had been introduced. And in the remaining 73, the employment carried on was of the slightest
possible description. Farther, in 100 jails, which had been built to contain only 8,545 prisoners, there were at one time as
many as 13,057 persons confined. The classification enjoined by the Act above mentioned was as follows !—(1) Prisoners
convicted of felony; (2) Prisoners committed on charge or suspicion of felony ; (3) Prisoners committed for, or adjudged to
be guilty of, misdemeanours only ; (4) Debtors ; (5) The males of each claffi to be separated from the females ; (6) A separate
place of confinement to be provided for such prisoners as are intended to be examined as witnesses on behalf of any prosecu¬
tion of any indictment for felony ; (7) Separate infirmaries, or t ick wards, for the men and the women.
98
THE GKEAT WORLD OF LONDON".
at the allowance of threepence or fourpence per day for each ; the profit from which, together with fees made
compulsory on the prisoners when discharged, constitated the keeper's salary. The debtor—the prisoner dis¬
charged, by the expiration of his term of sentence, by acquittal, or pardon from the Crown—had alike to pay
those fees, or to languish in confinement. A committal to prison, moreover, was equivalent, in many cases,
to a sentence of death by some frightful disease ; and in all, to suffering by the utmost extremes of hunger
and cold. One disease, generated by the want of proper ventilation, warmth, cleanliness, and food, became
known as the jail fever. It swept away hundreds every year, and sent out others on their liberation
miserably enfeebled. So rife was this disorder, that prisoners arraigned in the dock brought with them on
one occasion such a pestilential halo, as caused many inthe court-house to sicken and die. In some jails men
and women were together in the day-room ; in all, idleness, obscenity, and blasphemy reigned undistiirbed.
The keeper cared for none of these things. His highest duty was to keep his prisoner safe, and his highest
aspiration the fees squeezed out of their miserable relatives.—(v. Chapters on Prisons and Prisoners),
This system of prison libertinism continued down to so recent a period, that even in the year 1829
Captain Chesterton found, on entering upon the office of Governor öf Coldbath Fields Prison, the internal
economy of that institution to be as follows :—
" The best acquainted with the prison," says the Captain, in his Autobiography (vol. ii., p. 247), " were
utterly ignorant of the frightful extent of its demoralization The procurement of dishonest
gains was the only rule—from the late governor downwards—and with the exception of one or two ofiScers,
too recently appointed to have learned the villainous arcana of the place, all were engaged in a race of fright¬
ful enormity It is impossible for the mind to conceive a spectacle more gross and revolting
than the internal economy of this polluted spot The great majority of the officers were a
cunning and extortionate crew, practising every species of duplicity and chicanery From one
end of the prison to the other a vast illicit commerce prevailed, at a rate of profit so exorbitant as none but
the most elastic consciences could have devised and sustained. The law forbade every species of indulgence,
and yet there was not one that was not easily purchasable. The first question asked of a prisoner was—
' Had he any money, or anything that could be turned into money? or would any friend, if written to, advance
him some ? ' and if the answer were affirmative, then the game of spoliation commenced. In some
instances, as much as seven or eight shillings in the pound went to the turnkey, with a couple of shillings to
the ' yards-man,' who was himself a prisoner, and had purchased his appointment from the turnkey, at a
cost of never less than five pounds, and frequently more. Then a fellow called the ' passage-man ' would
put in a claim also, and thus the prison novice \r juld soon discover that he was in a place where fees were
exorbitant and charges multiplied If a sense of injustice led him to complain, he was called ' a
nose,' and had to run the gauntlet of the whole yard, by passing through a double file of scoundrels, who,
facing inwards, assailed him with short ropes or well-knotted handkerchiefs The poor and
friendless prisoner was a wretchedly oppressed man ; he was kicked and buffeted, made to do any revolting
work, and dared not complain If a magistrate casually visited the prison, rapid signals
communicated the fact, and he would walk through something like outward order. .... Little, how¬
ever, was the unsuspecting justice aware that almost every cell was hollowed out to constitute a hidden
store, where tobacco and pipes, tea and coffee, butter and cheese, reposed safe from inquisitive observation ;
and frequently, besides, bottles of wine and spirits, filsh-sauce, and various strange luxuries. In the evening,
when farther intrusion was unlooked-for, smoking, and drinking, and singing, the recital of thievish exploits,
and every species of demoralizing conversation prevailed. The prisoners slept three in a cell, or in crowded
rooms ; and no one, whose mind was previously undefiled, could sustain one pure and honest sentiment
under a system so frightfully corrupting Upon one occasion, during my nightly rounds," con¬
tinues the late governor, " I overheard a young man of really honest principles arguing with two hardened
scoundrels. He was in prison for theft, but declared that, had it not been for a severe illness, which had
utterly reduced him, he would never have stolen. His companions laughed at his scruples, and advocated
general spoliation. In a tone of indignant remonstrance, the young man said, ' Surely you would not rob a
poor countryman, who had arrived in town with only a few shillings in his pocket ! ' Whereupon, one of his
companions, turning lazily in his crib, and yawning as he did so, exclaimed in answer, ' By God Almighty, I
would rob my own father, if I could get a shilling out of him.' " *
Further, Mr. Hepworth Dixon, writing on the London prisons—even so lately as the year 1850—says,
" The mind must be lost to all sense of shame which can witness the abominations of Horsemonger Lane or
GUtspur Street Compter" (the latter has since been removed), " without feelings of scorn and indignation. In
Giltspur Street Compter, the prisoners sleep in small cells, little more than half the size of those at Penton-
ville, though the latter are calculated to be only just large enough for one inmate, even when ventilated upon
the best plan that science can suggest. But the cell in GUtspur Street Compter is either not ventilated at
(dl, or ventilated very imperfectly ; and though little more than half the dimensions of the ' model celis'
constructed for one prisoner, I have seen^ce persons locked up at four o'clock in the day, to be there confined
* Peace, War, and Adventure, an Atdobiography, by Charles Laval Chesterton.
OF PEISOIí DISCIPLINE.
99
till the next morning in darkness and idleness, to do all the offices of nature, not merely in each other's
presence, but crushed by the narrowness of their den, into a state of filthy contact, which brute beasts would
have resisted to the last gasp of life Could five of the purest men in the world live together in
such a manner, without losing every attribute of good which had once belonged to'them ?"
At Newgate, on the other hand, continues the same authority, " in any of the female wards may be seen
a week before the sessions, a collection of persons of every shade of guilt and some who are innocent. I
remember one case particularly. A servant girl of about sixteen, a fresh-looking healthy creature, recently up
from the country, was charged by her mistress with stealing a brooch. She was in the same room—^lived all
day, slept all night, with the most abandoned of her sex. They were left alone ; they had no work to do, no
books—except a few tracts, for which they had no taste—to read. The whole day was spent, as is usual in
such prisons, in telling stories—the gross and guilty stories of their own lives. There is no form of wickedness,
no aspect of ■vice, with which the poor creature's mind would not be compelled to grow familiar in the few
weeks which she passed in Newgate awaiting trial. When the day came the evidence against her was found
to be utterly lame and weak, and she was at once acquitted. That she entered Newgate innocent, I have no
doubt ; but who shall answer for the state in which she left it ? "•
•** Of the Several Kinde of Prison Discipline.—The above statements will give the reader a faint notion
of the condition of some of the metropolitan prisons, even in our own time. As a remedy for such defective
prison-economy, no less than five different systems have been proposed and tried. These are as follows ;—
(1.) The classification of prisoners : (2.) The silent associated system ; (3.) The separate system ; (4.) The
mixed system ; (5.) The mark system ; to which must be added that original system which allows the indis¬
criminate association and communion of prisoners as above described, and Which is generally styled the "city
system," or no system at «11—" the chief negative features" of which, according to Mr. Dixon, are " no work,
no instruction, no superintendence ; " while its positive features" are •' idleness, illicit gambling, filthiness,
unnatural crowding, unlimited licence (broken at times by severities at which the sense of justice revolts), and
universal corruption of each prisoner by his fellow8."t
The Classification of Prisoners.—As regards that system of prison discipline which seeks to prevent
the further demoralization of the criminal, by the separation of prisoners into classes, according to the
offences with which they are charged or convicted, it has been said, by the Inspectors of Prisons for the
Home District :%—" A prison would soon lose its terrors as a place of punishment, if its depraved occu¬
pants were suffered to indulge in the kind of society within the jail which they had always preferred when
at large; and, instead of a place of reformation, the jail Would become the best institution that could be
devised for instructing its inmates in aU the mysteries of vice and crime, if the professors of guilt confined
there were suffered to make disciples of such as might be comparatively innocent. To remedy this evil,
therefore," the Prison Inspectors add, "we must resort to classification. The young," they say, "must
be separated from the old ; then we must make a division between the novice and practised offenders.
Again, subdivisions will be indispensable, in proportion as in each of the classes there are found individuals
pf different degrees of depravity, and among whom must be numbered, not only the corrupters, but those
who are ready to receive their lessons."
But though it would seem to be a consequence of this mode of discipline, as Colonel Jebb well observes,
in his work on " Modem Prisons," that " if each jail class respectively be composed of burglars, or assault
and battery men, or sturdy beggars, they will acquire under it increased proficiency only in picking locks,
fighting, or imposing on the tender mercies of mankind nevertheless, it was found, immediately the
classification of prisoners was brought into operation, that " a very difficult and unforeseen condition had to
be dealt with. The burglar was occasionally sent to prison for trying his hand at begging—a professed
sheep-stealer for doing a little business as a thimblerig man—and a London thief for showing fight at a
country fair." Hence, by the classification of prisoners according to the offences of which they were con¬
victed, such people were brought into fellowship, during their imprisonment, with a class wholly different
from their own, and " often came to be associated for some months in jail with the simplh clown who had
been detected, perhaps, in his first petty offence."
" Classification of prisoners," says Mr. Eingsmill, too, " allows no approach, seemingly, towards sepa¬
rating the very bad from the better sort. They are continually changing places ; those in for felony at one
sessions being in for larceny or assault the next, and vice versá."
" Farther," observe the Home Inspectors, " grades in moral guilt are not the inunediate subject of
human observation, nor, if discovered, are they capable of being so nicely discriminated as to enable us to
assign to each individual criminal his precise place in the comparative scale of vice, whilst, if they could be
accurately perceived by us, it would appear that no two individuals were contaminated in exactly the same
• Zondon Prisons, by Hepworth Dixon, pp. T—10. + Ibid. t Vide 3rd Keport, pp. 59, 60.
100 the great world of london.
degree. Moreover, even if these difficulties could be surmounted, and a class formed of criminals who had
advanced just to the same point, not only of offence, but of moral depravity, still their association in prison
would be sure to produce a farther progress in both "
When, therefore, public attention was called to the defective construction, as well as to the demoralizing
and neglected discipline of the prisons of this country, some twenty or thirty years ago, " it was most
unfortunate for all the interests concerned," writes the Surveyor-General of Prisons, " that a step was
made in the wrong direction ; for it was considered that if prisoners could be classified, everything would be
effected that could be desired in the way of punishment and reformation.* .... Accordingly, vast
sums of money were expended in the erection of prisons calculated to facilitate the classification of prisoners.
New prisons for carrying out this discipline were constructed on a radiating principle—a central tower was
supposed to contain an Argus (or point of universal inspection), and from four to six or eight detached
blocks of cells radiated (spoke-fashion) from it—the intervals between the buildings forming the exercising
yards lor the different classes. Each of the detached blocks coniained a certain number of small colls
(generally about 8 feet X 5) ; and there were day-rooms in them, where the prisoners of the class would sit
over the fire, and while away time by instructing each other in the mysteries of their respective avocations ;
for it was not intended by this mode of discipline to check the recognized right of each class to amuse them¬
selves as they pleased. In fact," adds the Colonel, " had it been an object to make provision for compulsory
education in crime, no better plan could have been devised."
The Silent Associated System.—Next as to the "silent," or, as it is sometimes called, the "silent
associated," system, the following is a brief review of its characteristics and results. Whilst the classification
of offenders continues to this day to be the discipline carried out in many prisons, the prevention of contami¬
nation is sought to be attained in others, where hardly any such classification exists, by the prohibition of all
intercourse by word of mouth among the prisoners. " If the members of each class of prisoners," says an
eminent authority, " instead of being left, as they are in most prisons, to unrestricted social intercourse, were
compelled to work, under the immediate superintendence of an officer whose duty it would be to punish any
man who, by word of mouth, look, or sign, attempted to communicate with his fellow-prisoner, we should
have the silent system in operation." But as minute classification is not, imder the silent system, so absolutely
necessary as when intercourse is permitted,'the usual practice is to associate such classes asean be properly
brought together, in order to economise superintendence ; and hence its name of the Silent Associated System,
in contradistinction to the Classified System, under which intercommunication is permitted.
* The Act of Parliament enjoining the classification of prisoners was the 4th of George IV. (a.d. 1823], cap. 64, and had
the following preamble :—" Whereas the laws now existing relative to the building, repaliing, and regulating of jails and
houses of correction in England and Wales are complicated, and have in many cases been found ineffectual: And whereas it
is expedient that such measures should be adopted and such arrangements made as shall not only provide for the safe custody,
but shall also tend more effectually to preserve the health and Improve the morals of the prisoners confined therein, as well
as ensure the proper measure of punishment to convicted offenders : And whereas due classification, inspection, regular
labour, and employment, and religious and moral instruction, are essential to the discipline of a prison, and to the reformation
of offenders," Ac., Ac. ; therefore the following rules and regulations (among others are ordained to be observed in all
jails ;—
** The male and female prisoners shall be confined," says this statute, " in separate buildings or parts of the prison, so as
to prevent them from seeing, conversing, or holding any intercourse with each other.
" The prisoners of each sex shall be divided into distinct classes, care being taken that prisoners of the following classes
do not intermix with each other
In Jails. I In Houses oj Correction.
1st. Debtors and persons confined for contempt of court
or civil process.
2nd, Prisoners convicted of felony.
3cd. Prisoners convicted of misdemeanors.
4th. Prisoners convicted on charge or suspicion of felony.
Sth. Prisoners convicted on charge or suspicion of mis-
1st. Prisoners convicted of felony.
2nd. Prisoners convicted of misdemeanors.
3rd. Prisoners committed on charge or suspicion of
felony.
4th Prisoners committed on charge or suspicion of mis¬
demeanors.
demeanors, or for want of sureties. Sth. Vagrants.
" Such prisoners," adds the Act, " as are Intended to be examined as witnesses In behalf of the Crown in any prosecution
shall also be kept separate In all jails and houses of correction."
Again, by the 2nd and 3rd of Victoria (a.u. 1839), cap. 36, It Is enacted, " that the prisoners of each sex in every jail, house
of correction, bridewell, or penitentiary. In England and Wales, which, before the passing of this Act, did not come within
the provisions of the 4th of George IV., and In which a more minute classification or individual separation shall not be in
force, shall be at least divided into the following classes (that Is to say)
1st. Debtors In those prisons in which debtors can be lawfully confined.
2nd. Prisoners committed for trial.
3rd. Prisoners convicted and sentenced to hard labour.
4th. Prisoners convicted and sentenced to hard labour.
5tb. Prisoners not Included in the foregoing classes.
"And that in every prison in England and W ales separate rules and regulations shall be made for each distinct class oi
prisoners in that prison."
OF PRISON DISCIPLINE.
101
The silent system originated in a deep conviction of the great and manifold evils of jail association, the
advocates of that system naturally supposing that the demoralization of criminals would be checked if all
communication among them were cut off; and the greater number of prisons, in which any fundamental
change of discipline has been effected during the last twenty years, are now conducted on the silent plan.
At Coldbath Fields Prison this system has been carried to its utmost. It was introduced there on the 29th
December, 1834. " On which day," says Captain Chesterton, in his Autobiography, " the number of 914
prisoners were suddenly apprised that all intercommunication by word, gesture, or sign was prohibited ; and
without any approach to overt opposition, the silent system thenceforth became the rule of the prison. . .
. . Those who had watched and deplored the former system," adds the late Governor, " could not but
regard the change with heartfelt satisfaction. There was now a real protection to morals, and it no longer
became the reproach of authority, that the comparatively innocent were consigned to certain demoralization
and ruin. For eighteen years has this system been maintained in this prison with unswerving strictness.
. . I unhesitatingly avow my conviction, that the silent system, properly administered, is calculated to
effect as much good as, by any penal process, we can hope to realize."
The objections to the system, however, appear to be manifold and cogent. First, the silent system seems
to require an inordinate number of officers to prevent that intercommunication among prisoners " by word,
sign, or gesture," which constitutes its essence. At Coldbath Fields Prison, for instance, no less than 272
persons (54 warders + 218 prisoners, appointed to act as monitors over their fellow-criminals) were employed
to superintend 682 inmates, which is in the ratio of 10 officers to every 25 prisoners. Nevertheless, even
this large body of overseers was found insufficient to prevent all communication among the criminals—the
rule of silence being repeatedly infracted, and the prison punishments increasing considerably after the silent
system had been introduced. " Punishments," says the late Governor, " are more frequent now than when
we began the system." Indeed, " in one year," we are told, " no less than 6,794 punishments were inflicted
for talking, &c."* ,
But if it be difficult to prevent prisoners from audibly talking with each other, it is next to impossible,
even by the most extensive surveillance, to check the interchange of significant signe among them. " Although
there is a turnkey stationed in each tread-wheel yard," says the Second Report of Inspectors of Prisons for
the Home District, " and two monitors, or wardsmen, selected from the prisoners, stand constantly by, the
men on the wheel can, and do, speak to each other. They ask one another how long they are sentenced for,
and when they are going out ; and answers are given by laying two or three fingers on the wheel to signify
so many months, or by pointing to some of the many inscriptions carved on the tread-wheel as to the terms
of imprisonment suffered by former prisoners, or else they turn their hands to express unlockings or days."
Again : " The posture of stooping, in which the prisoners work at picking oakum or cotton (we are told
in the Eev. Mr. Kingsmill's " Chapters on Prisons and Prisoners"), gives ample opportunity of carrying on a
lengthened conversation without much chance of discovery ; so that the rule of silence is a dead letter to
many. At meals, also, in spite of the strictness with which the prisoners are watched, the order is constantly
infiinged. The time of exercise again affords an almost tmlimited power of communicating with each other ;
for the closeness of the prisoners' position, and the noise of their feet render intercommunication at such times
a very easy matter Farther, the prisoners, attend chapel daily, and this may be termed the
golden period of the day to most of them ; for it is here, by holding their books to their faces and pretending
to read with the chaplain, that they can carry on the most uninterrupted conversation."
Not only, however, is the silent system open to grave objections, because it fails in its attempt to prevent
intercourse among prisoners promiscuously associated, but it has even more serious evils connected with it.
"The mind of the prisoner," it has been well said, " is kept perpetually on the fret by the prohibition of
speech, and it is drawn from the contemplation of his own conduct and degraded position, to the invention
of devices for defeating his overseers, or for carrying on a clandestine communication with his fellow-
prisoners, deriving no benefit meanwhile from the offices of religion, but rather converting such offices into
an opportunity for eluding the vigilance of the warders, and being still farther depraved by frequent punish¬
ment for offences of a purely arbitrary character ; for surely to place a number of social beings in association,
and then not only interdict all intercourse between them, but to punish such as yield to that most powerful
• The number of punishments which were inflicted under the silent system, in three London prisons, in the course of
. one year, was as follows
Number of Prisoners (Male and Number of Punishments for
Female) in the course of Offences within the Prison in
one year. the course of one year.
Brixton House of Correction . .... 3,28S 1,171
Westminster Bridewell (Tothill Fields). . . . 5,524 4,848
Coldbath Fields House of Correction .... 9,750 13,812
{Second Heport of Inspectors of Prisons for Borne District.)
The average expense of each convict kept in a house of correction, under the silent system, is about £14 per annum, or
between £55 and £56 for four years.
102
THE GEEAT WORLD OP LOHDOH.
of human impulses—the desire of communing with those with whom we are thrown into connection—^is an
act of refined tyranny, that is at once unjust and impossible of being thoroughly carried out.
Separat» Sy»t«m,—li is almost self-evident that every system of prison discipline must be
associative, separative, or mixed, 1. The prisoners may be either allowed to associate indiscriminately, and
to indulge in unrestrained intercourse ; or else, in order to prevent the evils of unrestricted communion,
among the older and yotinger criminals, as well as the more expert and the less artful, when associated
together, the prisoners may be made to labour as well as take their exercise and meals in perfect silence.
2. We may put a stop to such association, either partially or entirely, by separating the prisoners into classes,
according to their crimes, ages, or characters, or else by separating them indwidually, each from the other, and
thus endeavour to check the injurious effect of indiscriminate intercourse among the depraved, by positive
isolation rather than classification. 3. We may permit them to associate in silence during the day, and
isolate them at night—the latter method constituting what is termed the mixed system of prison discipline.
The separate system is defined by the Surveyor-General of Prisons as that mode of penal discipline "in
which each individual prisoner is confined in a cell, which becomes his workshop by day and his bed-room
by night, so as to be effectually prevented from holding communication with, or even being seen sufficiently
to be recognized by a fellow-prisoner."
The object of this discipline is stated to be twofold. It is enforced, not only to prevent the prisoner
having intercourse with his fellow-prisoners, but to compel him to hold communion with himself. He is
excluded from the society of the other criminal inmates of the prison, because experience has shown that
such society is injurious, and he is urged to make his conduct the subject of his own refiections, because it is
almost universally found that such self-communion is the precursor of moral amendment.
No other system of prison discipline, say the advocates of the separate system—neither the classified nor
the silent system—has any tendency to incline the prisoner to turn his thoughts back upon himself—to cause
him to reconsider his life and prospects, or to estimate the wickedness and improfitableness of crime. The
silent system, we are told, can call forth no new resolves, nor any settled determinations of amendment,
whilst it fails in wholly securing the prisoner from contamination, and sets the mind upon the rack to devise
means for evading the irritating restrictions imposed upon it.
The advantages of individual separation, therefore, say those who believe this system to be superior to all
others, are not merely of a preventive character—preventive of the inevitable evils of association—^preventive
of the contamination which the comparatively innocent cannot escape from, when brought into contact with
the polluted ; but separation at once renders corrupt intercourse impracticable, and affords to the prisoner
direct facilities for reflection and self-improvement.
" Under this discipline," says the Rev. Mr. Eingsmill, chaplain of Pentonville Prison, *' the propagation
of crime is impossible—the continuity of vicious habits is broken off—the mind is driven to reflection, and
conscience resumes her sway."
Tbe convicted criminal, under this system, is confined day and night in a cell that is fitted with every
convenience essential to ensure ventilation, warmth, cleanliness, and personal exercise. Whatever is neces¬
sary to the preservation of the prisoner's well-being, moral as well as physical, is strictly attended to. So
far from being consigned to the gloomy terrors of solitary confinement, he is visited by the governor sis well
as by the chaplain, and other prison officers daily ; he is provided with work which furnishes employment
for his mind—has access to profitable books—is allowed to take exercise once in every twenty-four hours in
the open air—is required to attend every day in the chapel, and, if uneducated, at the school ; and, in case of
illness or sudden emergency, he has the means of making his wants known to the officers of the prison.
" On reviewing our opinions" (with respect to the moral effect of the discipline of separate Confinement),
says the Fifth Report of the Board of Commissioners appointed to superintend the working of Pentonville
Prison, " and taking advantage of tbe experience of another year, we feel warranted in expressing our firm
conviction, that the moral results of the system have been most encouraging, and attended with a success
which we believe is without parallel in the history of prison discipline." Farther, the Commissioners add
" the result of our entire experience is the conclusion, that the separation of one prisoner from another is the
only sound basis on which a reformatory can be established with any reasonable hope of success."
Again, the Governor of Pentonville Prison (who has watched the operation of the system from its intro¬
duction in 1842) says, in his Sixth Report, " If I may express an abstract opinion on the subject, not supported
by facts and reasons, it shall be to thiç effect—that having at the first felt confidence in the powers and
capabilities of the system for the accomplishment of its objects, and that no valid objection could be raised
against it, if rightly administered, on the ground of its being injurious to physical or mental health ; a period
of more than five years of close personal experience of its working has left that sentiment not only unim¬
paired, but confirmed and strengthened."
Such are the eminent eulogiums uttered by the advocates of the separate system of penal discipline ; and
let us now in fairness give a summary of the objections raised against it. It is alleged, in the first place.
OF PRISON DISCIPLINE.
103
that the discipline is unwarrantably severe. It is represented as abandoning its victim to despair, by con¬
signing a vacant or guilty mind to all the terrible depression of unbroken solitude. Indeed, it is often con¬
demned as being another form of solitary confinement, the idea of which is so closely connected in the public
mind with the dark dungeons and oppressive cruelty of the Middle Ages, as to he sufficient to excite the
strongest emotions of abhorrence in every English bosom.
Colonel Jehh tells us, that there is a wide difference between separate and solitary confinement. He says,
that in the Act (2nd and 3rd Victoria, cap. 66) which rendered separate confinement legal, it was specially
enjoined that " no cell éhould he used for that purpose which is not of such a size, and lighted, and warm,
ventilated and fitted up in such a manner as may be required by a due regard to health, and furnished with
the means of enabling the prisoner to communicate at any time with an officer of the prison." It was
further provided, too, by the same Act, that each prisoner should have the means of taking exercise when
required; that he should he supplied with the means of moral and religious instruction—with books, and also
with labour and employment. "Whereas, a prisoner under soliteery confinement," says the Surveyor-
General of Prisons, " may be not only placed in any kind of cell, but is generally locked up and fed on bread
and water only, no farther trouble being taken about him. A mode of discipline so severe," he adds, " that it
cannot he legally enforced for more than a month at a time, nor for more than three months in any one year."
" Under solitary confinement," another prison authority observes, " the prisoner is deprived of intercourse
with all other human beings. Under separate confinement, he is kept rigidly apart only from other <riminals,
hut is allowed as much intercourse with instructors and officers, as is compatible with judicious economy."—
Burt's Results of Separate Confinement.
A second objection to the separate or cellular system is, that it breaks down the mental and bodily health
of the prisoners—^that it forces the mind to he continually brooding over its own guilt—constantly urging the
priáoner to contemplate the degradation of his position, and seeking to impress upon bim that his crimes have
caused him to be excluded from all society ; and that with the better class of criminals, especially those with
whom the ties of kindred are strong, it produces not only such a continued sorrow at being cut off from all
relatives, and indeed every one but prison officers, but such a long insatiate yearning to get backte all that is
held dear, that the punishment becomes more than natures which are not utterly callous are able to withstand; so
that, instead of reforming, it utterly overwhelms and destroys. With more vacant intellects and hardened
hearts, however, it serves to make the prisoners even more unfeeling and unthinking ; for sympathy alone
develops sympathy, and thought in others is required to call forth thought in us. In a word, it is urged that
this mode of penal discipline cages a man up as if he were some dangerous beast, allowing his den to be
entered only by his " keeper," and that it ends in his becoming as irrational and furious as a beast ; in fine,
say the opponents of the system, " it violates the great social law instituted by the Almighty, and so working
contrary to nature, it is idle to expect any good of it."
Now, let us see whether there he truth in such strictures, or whether they be mere empty rhodomontade.
Fortunately, we possess ample means, and those of a most trustworthy character, for testing the validity of
these objections. Let us see, then, what is the proportionate number of criminal lunatics to the total prison
population in England and Wales ; and in order to guard against the errors of generalizing upon a «maH
number of particulars, let us draw oiir conclusions from as large a series of phenomena as possible.
The tables given in the Fifteenth Beport of the Inspectors of Prisons for the Home District, extend over
eight years (1842-1849, both inclusive), and show that in the course of that period there were altogether 680
cases of lunacy (or an average of 85 cases per annum) occurring in all the prisons of England and Wales,
among an aggregate of 1,156,166 prisoners (or an average yearly prison population of 144,520 individuals).
This is at the rate of 5"8 criminal lunatics in every 10,000 prisoners, and such may, therefore, he taken as.
the normal proportion of lunatic cases in a given number of criminal offenders.* If, therefore, any mode of
prison discipline be found to yield a greater ratio of lunatics to the number of offenders brought under that
discipline, we may safely eonclude that it is unduly severe; and vice versà, (assuming ciime itself to be
* The following are the returns from which the above conclusions are drawn ;—
No. of
Total Prison Population Criminal No. of Criminal Lunatics
Tears. in England and Wales. Lunatics. to 10,000 Criminals.
1842 153,136 76 49
1843 152,445 64 4-1
1844 143,979 96 6'6
1845 124,110 99 7-9
1846 123,286 92 7-4
1847 131,949 96 7-2
1848 160,369 89 5-6
1849 166,942 68 4 0
Total . . . 1,156,166 680 5-8
Annual Mean 144,520 . 85 s-g
fifteenth Report of Rnson Inspsetors^ p. xxxiv.
104
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
dosely connected with mental aberration), if it yield a less proportion than the above, then it is exerting a
beneficial agency on the criminal temperament.
The returns of Pentonville prison are for a period of eight years also (from the 22nd of December, 1842,
to the 31st of December, 1850), and these show that in an aggregate of 3,546 prisoners (or an annual mean of
443 individuals), there were no less than 22 attacked with insanity, which is at the rate of 62'0, instead
of 6'8, cases of lunacy in every 10,000 prisoners ; so that the discipline pursued at this prison yields upward»
of ten time» more lunatic» than should he the case according to the normal rate.*
According to these returns, therefore, we find that had the prisoners confined at Pentonville prison been
treated in the same manner as at the other jails throughout the country, there would, in all probability,
have been only 2 instead of 22 cases of lunacy in the eight years, among the 3,546 prisoners (for
1,156,166 : 680 : : 3,546 : 2); and, on the other hand, had the million and odd criminals confined in the
whole of the prisons of lEngland and Wales been submitted to the same stringent discipline as those at
Pentonville, the gross number of lunatics among them would, as far as we can judge, have been increased
from 680 to 7,173 (for 3,546 : 22 ; : 1,156,166 : 7,173).
These figures, it must be confessed, tell awful tales of long suffering and deep mental affliction ; for the
breaking down of the weaker minds is merely evidence of the intense moral agony that must be suffered
by all except the absolutely insensible. Nor can we ourselves, after such overwhelming proofs, see one
Christian reason to justify the discipline—especially when we add, that in addition to there being upwards
of tenfold more madmen turned out of Pentonville prison than any other jail in England and Wales,
no less than 26 cases of " »light mental affections" or delusions, and 8 suicides also having occurred there
within the eight years above alluded to ! Nor is this an isolated case : Dr. Baly, the Visiting Physician of
Millbank, in his Report on Separate Confinement, published in the year 1852, gives a table which shows
that in a period of 8 years (1844-51, both inclusive) there were 65 cases of insanity there, among an aggre¬
gate of 7,393 prisoners; this is at the rate of 87"5 cases (instead of the normal proportion of 5-8) to every
10,000 individuals. Moreover, in America, in pursuance of a law passed in 1821, 80 convicts were selected,
and, as a matter of experiment, placed in solitary cells, which had been prepared for the purpose, under the
direction of the Inspectors of the State Prison, at Auburn. In 1823, however, about eighteen months after
the commencement of the experiment, it was found that the most disastrous results had followed, especially
as regarded insanity—the greater number of the convicts being attacked with mental clisease.
Now, to show that separate confinement—"the seclusion of the separate-cell"—is allowed, even by the
advocates of the system, to " have some tendency to produce insanity, by withdrawing those vicious allevia¬
tions to the mind which are supplied by the intercourse of prisoners in association" (these are the words of
the late assistant chaplain), we may add that the Rev. Mr. Burt says, in his " Results of Separate Con¬
finement" (page 136), that " It is one of the few known laws of mental disease, that periods of transition from
• The subjoined is the Table given by the Eev. Mr. Burt, in his " Besults of Separate Confinement at Pentonville —
Tablu, showing the Criminal Character and Sentences of Twenty-two Prisoners attacked with Insanity, from the Opening of the
Prison to the Ust Peeember, 1850 ; also the Proportions between tlte Jinmber admitted and the Humber attacked in each
Class; also the Numbers of Single and Harried lien admitted and attacked.
Classes of Prisoners.
No. of Prisoners
attacked with
Insanity.
No. of Prisoners
admitted since the
opening of Prison.
No. attacked
with Insanity in
every 1,000 of
each class.
Classes of Prisoners.
No. of Prisoners
attacked with
Insanity
No. of Prisoners
admitted since the
opening of Prison.
No. attacked
with Insanity in
every 1,000 of
each class.
Sentenced to seven years and under ten
„ ten years
„ above ten years . . .
Stealing, larceny, and felony undefined
House-breaking and robbery . . .
Horse, sheep, and cattle stealing . .
Forgery and uttering
Bape, and assault with intent, Ac.
(including unnatural crimes) . .
Stabbing and shooting with intent, Ac.
(cases of manslaughter and cutting
and wounding being included) . .
10
s
4
1,777
1,263
506
5-62
6-33
7-90
Not included in the above classes . •
Not known to have been previously con¬
victed
Previously convicted
Married
Single and widowers
Totals of all classes .
0
382
0
10
12
1,835
1,711
5-4
7-6
9
6
3
1
1
2
1,744
876
306
98
69
71
5-2
69
9-8
10-02
14-5
28-2
4
18
964
2,582
4-1
6-9
22
3,546
6-2
The above returns are very useful, in another point of view, as showing m what classes of criminals there is the greatest
tendency to madness. Thus we perceive that those who have a tendency to commit bodily injuries are the nearest to insanity
those whose offences are of a libidinous character are the next in the scale of proximate aberration—the forgers and " smashem •
the next—the cattle-stealers the next—the burglars the next—whereas, of all criminals, the common thieves have the least dis¬
position to madness. It shows, moreover, that the longest sentences produce the greatest number of cases of mental derange¬
ment; those who have been convicted more than once being more frequently diseased in mind than those undergoing their
first conviotlon.
OF PRISON DISCIPLINE.
105
one extreme feeling to its opposite, are marked as critical to reason. Men inured to suffering will bear misery
without much danger. It is the sudden inroad of misfortune which either overwhelms the mind,'or calls
forth too violent an effort of resistance. That excessive effort will be followed by a prostration of mental
energies, and derangement will, in some cases, enstte, or the mind will be left in the power of slight disturbing
causes until it is rallied under new and invigorating influences." " Upon the mind of the criminal in separa¬
tion, especially upon the convict under sentence of transportation," Mr. Burt tells us, "there are three classes
of adverse influences in operation—(1.) The heavy blow of punishment. (2.) Excessive demoralization of
character. (3.) The withdrawal of those associations which in ordinary life dévert and sustain the mind. But,"
he adds, "the disturbing influence of each one of these causes is greatest during the early period of imprison¬
ment"—in plain language, if the poor wretch do not go mad under the treatment in the flrst twelvemonths,
then ho will hear being caged up as long as we please.*
The prison authorities, however, speak far more cautiously, and, we must add, considerately, as to the
working of the separate system, than the late Assistant-Chaplain at the Model Prison ; indeed, the very fact
of the period of conflnement there having been changed from eighteen to nine months is a tacit acknowledg¬
ment that the original term of separation was more than ordinary natures could bear without derange¬
ment.
" Beyond twelve months," says Colonel Jebh, the thoughtful and kind-hearted Surveyor-General of Prisons,
in his Report for 1853, " I think the system of separate confinement requires greater care and watchfulness
than would perhaps be ensured rmder ordinary circumstances. And there are grounds for believing that it is
neither necessary nor desirable so to extend it."
Again, Mr. Kingsmill, the Chaplain of Pentonville, says, " There seems to be no sufficient reason for wish¬
ing for any extension of separation beyond eighteen months, hut the reverse f for the experiment appears to
him, he tells us, not to have succeeded, as regards the advantages of separate conflnement for longer periods
than flfteen or eighteen months. " "Where the ties of kindred are strong," he adds, " the galling feeling at
the loss of liberty and society is increased, and though the mass are still patient and cheerful to the last, it
may well he questioned whether it be safe to keep them longer separated, when the mind has ceased to be
active in acquiring knowledge." To this Colonel Jebh subjoins, "it is not the use but the abuse of separate
conflnement that is to be guarded against—that is, pressing it beyond the limits under which advantage is
derived from placing a prisoner, under favourable circumstances, for reflection and receiving instruction."
Further, the Surveyor-General assures us, that the statistics of the medical officer " afford convincing proof
that diminishing the extent of the imprisonment from what it had originally been—increasing the daily
exercise—substituting rapid exercise for that which was taken in the separate yards—improving the ventila¬
tion by admitting the outer air direct to the cells, and at onoe relaxing the discipline when any injury to
health was apprehended—have been found to have a favourable influence.
•»* Oftlie "Mixed" System of Prison Discipline.—This is the system pursued at Mülbank Prison. It
consista of a combination of the silent and separate modes of criminal treatment—that is to say, the men work
together in sUence by day, and sleep in separate cells by night. It has all the faults of the silent system,
and hut little, if any, of the good derivable from the self-communion and worldly retirement of the separate
system.
*,* the " Mark" System of Prison Discipline.—As this system, so far as our knowledge goes, forms part
of the discipline at no penal establishment in this country at present, it requires but little explanation here.
The great feature of the mark system, according to Mr. Hepworth Dixon, who styles it " the most compre¬
hensive and philosophical of all schemes of criminal treatment in this country," is, that " it substitutes labour
sentences for time sentences." Instead of condemning a man to fourteen years' imprisonment. Captain
Maconochie, the author of this peculiar mode of discipline, would have him sentenced to perform a certain
* Mr. Burt, who is a staunch advocate for the separate system, and that carried out to its füll extreme, cites the following
table, in order to show that the majority of the cases of insanity occur within the first twelvemonths of the term of imprison¬
ment. How strange it is a gentleman of his generous nature should never have asked himself the question whether, as
there were such a large number of cases of insanity occurring within the earlier period of the discipline, the separate system
were really justifiable in the eyes of God or man.
Tabük showing the Periods at which all Cases of Mental Affection have oecwrred at Pentonville during Sight Tears, from the
opening of the Prison, on the 22»(j of December, 1842, to the 31»i of December, 1850.
Description of Six Months, From Six to toTi^tem* '^XS'to™ Total
Mental Afltectton. and under. Twelve Months. MoSths. TwoT^ra.
Insanity ... 14 5 3 0 22
Delusions... 13 9 2 2 26
Suicides ... 2 1 0 0 3
Total . 29 15 5 2 51
106
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDOH.
quantity of labour—^the labour being represented by " marks" instead of money—whence the name of the
system. The whole of this labour, we are told, the conTict would be bound to perform before he could regain
his freedom, whether he chose to occupy one year or twenty years about it.
The advantages of this mode of prison discipline, its advocates aver, are, that it places the criminal's fate,
to some extent, in his own power. Labour punishment, they say, gives a convict the feeling of personal
responsibility, which the present mode of punishment robs bim of. The man serving a fixed period has
no object but to kill the time. An absolute disregard of the value of time is thus begotten in the mind of the
cohviot—time becoming associated with the idea of suffering and restraint. The time sentence puts the
offender under restraint for a term, but does not force him to do anything to make any active reparation to
society for the crime, and it takes away all stimulus to exertion on the part of the criminal, who knows that,
" idle or industrious, dissolute or orderly, he must still serve out an inexorable number of weeks and years.
The labour sentence, on the other hand, induces a habit of hard work, and the habit which is thus made to
earn for the man his liberty will afterwards become the means of preserving it."
As yet this system has been tried only in Norfolk Island—where, it is alleged, no conceivable system
would or could work well—amongst transported transports, the most self-abandoned human beings, perhaps,
on the earth's surface. But " even there," adds Mr. Dixon, " it did not fail."
Conclusion.—Such, Üien, are the several modes of discipline that at present make up the science
of what is termed
Now the objects of all penal infiictions and treatment are, of course, twofold—^punishment and reforma¬
tion ; the one instituted not only as a penance for a particular offence, but as the means of deterring future
offenders ; and the other sought after with the view of correcting the habits of the present offenders.
Hence we are enabled to put the several forms of criminal treatment pursued in this country to a prac¬
tical test ; for if our methods of penal discipline are really deterring future offenders and reforming present
ones, we ought to he able to show the result in figures, and to point to the criminal statistics as a proof that
we are reducing crime among us by the regimen of our jails. The subjoined table will enable us to, see
if such be the case :—
NUMBEll OF CKIMINAL8 IN ENOLAND AND WALES DUEINO THE FOLLOWING TEARS:
1834
22,451
1844
26,542
1835
20,731
1845
24,303
1836
20,984
1846
25,107
1837
23,612
1847
28,833
1838
23,094
1848
30,349
110,872
135,134
1839
24,443
1849
: 27,816
1840
27,187
1850
26,813
1841
27,760
1851
27,960
1842
31,309
1852
27,510
1843
29,591
1853
27,057
140,290
251,162
Increase in crime between first and last year
Increase between the first and last ten years
Increase in population of England and Wales from 1841—61
137,156
272,290
20'5 per cent.
8-0 „
12-6 „
Absolutely considered, then, we find that, despite the spread of education among us, and increase of
churches and chapels, together with the greater activity of the ministry of all denominations, and the rapid
development of benevolent and religious societies, including "Home Missions" and "Reformatories"—despite
all these appliances, we say, the crime of the country has increased no less than ticenty per cent, within the
last twenty years ; whilst considered relatively to the increase of the population, we find that it has decreased
only to the extent of four per cent, in ten years. Hence, if we take into consideration the vast external
machinery for improving the morals and instructing the minds of the people in the present day, we shall see
good reason to conclude that the internal economy of our prisons has made but small impression upon the
great body of criminals.
Nevertheless this is hardly a precise mode of testing the value of the several forms of penal discipline at
present in vogue, as the greater proportion of the offenders included in the totals above specified may be
regarded as being, so to speak, young in crime, and as never having been in prison before, so that the treat¬
ment pursued within the jails could not directly have affected them.
OF PRISON DISCIPLINE.
107
The number of the recommittals, however, may be cited as positive proof upon the matter ; and hence the
following table, copied from the Fifth Report of the Inspectors of Prisons for the Home District, becomes the
moat condemnatory evidence as regards the inefflcacy of our treatment of criminal offenders :—
ENGLAND AND WALES.
Tears.
Total of Criminal
Total of
Per Centage of Eeeommittala
Committaie.
Kecommittals.
to Committals.
1842
112,927
53,862
29-9
1843
112.752
34,383
30-5
1844
107,243
34,731
32-4
1845
99,049
33,113
33-4
1846
98,984
32,458
32-8
1847
105,041
32,925
31-3
1848
124,342
37,225
29-9
1849
129,697
39,826
30-7
Increase of recommittals between first and last year .
0-8 per cent.
Thus we discover how utterly abortive are aU our modes of penal discipline, since the old "jail-birds," so
far from being either reformed or deterred from future offences, are here shown continually to return to the
prisons throughout the country. Moreover, of the number of criminals who are recommitted in the course
of the year, many have appeared more than once before in the jails ; and the Report from which the above
table has been extracted has another table whereby we find that—though in 1842 there was no less than
6 per cent, of criminal offenders who had been recommitted four times and more—nevertheless the per rentage
of that class of inveterate criminals had risen as high as 7'7 in 1849.
There must, then, be some grave and serious errors in our present penal system, since it is plain ftum the
above facts that our treatment of criminals neither deters nor reforms.
Let us endeavour, therefore, to detect where the errors lie.
Now, it appears to us—and we speak with all humility upon the subject—that the first substantial
objection against the prison discipline of the present day is, that our silent systems and separate systems are
as much in extremis as was the old plan of allowing indiscriminate intescourse to take place among all niasses
of prisoners. Society, some years ago, opened its eyes and discovered that to permit the young offender to
associate and commune with the old, and the comparatively innocent with the inveterately depraved, was to
convert the jaU into an academy for inexperienced criminals, where they might receive the best possible
tuition in vice. Therefore, in the suddenness of our indignation at the short-comings of such a method of
dealing with the inmates of our jails, we rushed to the opposite extreme, and declared that because the
liberty of speech among such people was found to be fraught with evil, they should henceforth not speak at
all ; and because it was dangerous to allow them to associate, they should for the future be cut off from all
society, and caged, like animals in a menagerie, each in separate dens.
A love of extremes, however, belongs to the fanatical rather than the rational mind, and perhaps the
worst form of all bigotry is that of disciplinarians who invariably sacrifice common sense to some love of
super-strictness.
Surely ajl that is necessary, in order to check the evils of imrestricttd intercourse among criminals,
is to prevent them talking upon vicious subjects one to the other. To go farther than this, and stop aU com¬
munion among them, is not only absurd as overreaching the end in view, but positively wicked as ignoring
the highest gift of the Almighty to man—that wondrous faculty of speech, which some philosophers have
held to be more distinctive of human nature than even reason itself.
Moreover, by overstepping what Shakspeare beautifuUy terms "the modesty of nature," we force the poor
wretches, whose tongues we figuratively cut out, into aU kinds of cheats and low cunning, in order to gratify
what, if rightly used, is not only a harmless but a noble impulse. It seems, therefore, that the entire object
which the silent system has in view would be attained by placing an intelligent officer to watch over a
certain number of prisoners, and whose duty it should be not only to restrain them from conversing upon
vicious subjects, but to read to them, while they were at work, from interesting and high-minded books, as
well as to lead the discourse at other times into innocent and elevated channels. Nor should this officer he one
who would be likely to "lore" the people with prosy views and explanations upon matters of philosophy or
religion. We have sufficient faith in goodness to believe that he is but a poor disciple of the Great Tea(ffier,
who cannot make that which possesses the highest beauty a matter of the highest attraction, even to the
lowest minds—who cannot speak of the wonders of creation or of the loving-kindness of Christ without being
as duU as a religious tract, or as dry as a lecturer at a mechanic's institution. We would have it received as
a rule, that inattention on the part of the prisoners was a sign of inability on the part of the officer, or the
authors selected by him, to discourse pleasantly—to clothe interesting subjects in an interesting form ; and,
indeed, that it arose from a fault in the teacher (of the books) rather than the scholars, so that instead of
108
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
blnming the latter, the former should be dismissed from his ofBce—even as the dramatist is hissed as an inca¬
pable from the stage, when he is found to lack the power to rivet the attention of his audience.
By such an arrangement, it is obvious that all necessity for imprisoning the criminals in separate cells
would be at end. Hence all dangers of insanity would cease, and the mind and conscience rather be brought
to their proper mastery over the passions and desires, than deprived of all power by long-continued de¬
pression.
But one of the main evils of the present systems öf penal discipline is, that they one and all make labour a
punishment to the criminal. This, in fact, is the great stumbling-block to reformation among the class.
The only true definition of crime, so far as regards the predatory phase of it, that we have seen, is that laid
down in the Bepoit of the Constabulary Commissioners, and which involves neither an educational nor a
teetotal view, but simply a matter-of-fact consideration of the subject, asserting that such crime is " simply
the desire to acquire property with a less degree of labour than by ordinary industry;" in a word, that it arises
from an indisposition to work for a livelihood.
Now that this expresses the bare truth, and is the only plain practical explanation to be given of the
subject, none can doubt who have paid the least attention to the criminal character ; for not only is the
greater proportion of those who are of predatory habits likewise 'of a vagabond disposition (out of 16,000
such characters known to the police, upwards of 10,000 were returned in the same Report as being of
migratory habits), hut this same wandering nature appertains to their minds as well as their bodies ; for so
erratic are criminals both in thought and action, that it is extremely difficult to fix their attention for any
length of time to one subject, or to get them to pursue any settled occupation in life. Hence labour
becomes extremely irksome to them, and (as the mind must busy itself about something) amusement grows
as attractive as regular work is repulsive to their natures. Legislators seem to have taken this view of
the question, and to have sentenced such people to imprisonment with hard labour, simply because they
believed that work was the severest punishment they could infiict upon them. But punishments, especially
those which are begotten in the fury of our indignation for certain offences, are not always remarkable for
their wisdom; since to sentence a criminal to a term of hard labour because he has an aversion to work, is
about as rational as it would be to punish a child who objected to jalap, by condemning it to a six months'
course of it.
So far, indeed, from such a sentence serving to eradicate the antipathy of the criminal to industrious
pursuits, it tends rather to confirm him in his prejudice against regular labour. " "Well," says the pick¬
pocket to himseK, on leaving prison, " I always thought working for one's living was by no means pleasant ;
and after the dose I have just had, I'm blest if I a'n't convinced of it."
The defect of such penal discipline becomes obvious to all minds when thus plainly set before them ;
for is it not manifest that, if we wish to inculeate habits of industry in criminals, we should strive to make
labour a delight rather than use it as a scourge to them ?
Now the great Author of our natures has ordained, that, though labour be a curse, there should be
certain modes by which it may be rendered agreeable to us, and these are—(1) by variety or change of
occupation ; (2) by the inculcation of industrial habits ; (3) by association with some purpose or object.
The first of these modes by which work is made pleasant is the natural or primitive one. Every person
is aware how the more transition from one employment to another seems to inspire him with fresh energy,
for monotony of all kinds fatigues and distresses the mind ; and as active attention to any matter requires a
continuous mental effort in order to sustain it, therefore those natures which are more erratic and volatile
than others become the sooner tired, and consequently less able to support the sameness of a settled
occupation.
The second mode of rendering labour agreeable consists in the wonderful educational power of that
mysterious principle of habit by which any mental or muscular operation, however irksome at first, comes,
by regular and frequent repetition, to be not only pleasant to perform, but after a time positively unpleasant
for us to abstain from.
The third and last method of making industry delightful to us is, however, by far the most efficacious,
for we have but to inspire a person with some special purpose, to make his muscles move nimbly, and agree¬
ably too. It is the presence of some such purpose that sets the more honest portion of the world working
for the food of themselves and their families ; and it is precisely because Jrour true predatory and migratory
criminal is purposeless and objectless, that he wanders through the country without any settled aim or end,
now turning this way, now that, according to the mere impulse of the moment. Nor is it possible that he
should be other than a criminal, the slave of his brute passions and propensities, loving liberty and hating
control, and pursuing a roving rather than a settled life, until some honourable motive can be excited in
his bosom.
If therefore, we conclude, society seeks, by any system of penal discipline, to change criminals into
honest men it can do so only and securely by working in conformity, rather than in opposition, to those
laws which the Almighty has impressed upon all men's being ; and consequently it must abandon all systems
of silence and isolation as utterly incompatible with the very foundation of social economy. It must
SEPARATE CELL IN I'ENTONVILLE PRISON.
WITH HAMMOCK SLUNC. FOIÏ SLElíPINC!, ANH I.OOM FOR HAY-WORK.
8
OF PEISON DISCIPLINE.
Ill
also give up every notion of making labour a punishment, and seek to render it a pleasure to one who is
merely a criminal because he has an inordinate aversion to work. ■ The " mark" system attains the latter object,
by making labour the means of liberation to the prisoner ; but this motive lasts only so long as the term of
imprisonment, for there is no reason to believe that when the liberty is attained the prisoner will continue
labouring beyond that period. What is wanted is to excite in the mind of the prisoner some object to work
for, which will endure through life. No man labours for nothing, nor can we expect criminals to do so.
Industry is pursued by all, either for the love of what it brings—money, honour, or power—or else for the
love of the work itself ; and if we desire to make criminal offenders exert themselves like the rest of the
world, we must convince them that they can obtain as good a living, and a far more honourable and pleasant
one, by honest than dishonest pursuits.
Still, some good people will doubtlessly urge against the above strictures on penal discipline, that no
mention is made of that religious element from which all true changes of nature must spring. The Rev.
Mr. Ringsmill has put this part of the subject so simply and forcibly before the mind, that it would be
unfair to such as profess the same opinions not to cite the remarks here.
"No human punishment," says the Chaplain of PentonviUe Prison, " has ever reformed a man from habits
of theft to a life of honesty—of vice to virtue ; nor can any mode of treating prisoners, as yet thought of,
however specious, accomplish anything of the kind. Good principle and good motive? are the sad wants of
criminals. God alone can give these by his Spirit ; and the appointed means for this, primarily, is the
teaching of his word. ' Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way, even by taking heed thereto accord¬
ing to thy word.' " Now in answer to this, we say that it is admitted by every one that these same conver¬
sions are miracles wrought by the grace of God ; and we do not hesitate to declare our opinion that it is not
wise, nor is it even religious (betraying as it does an utter infidelity in those natural laws which are as much
institutions of the Almighty as even the scriptural commandments themselves), to frame schemes for the refor¬
mation of criminals which depend upon miraculous interferences for their success. Almost as rational, indeed,
would it be to return to the superstition of the dark ages ; and, because divine goodness has occasionally healed
the sick in a marvellous and supernatural manner, therefore to go forth with the priest, in case of any bodily
affliction, and pray at some holy shrine, rather than seek the aid of the physician who, by continual study of
God's sanitary laws, is enabled to restore to us the health we have lost through some blind breach of His
Will in that respect. To put faith in the supernatural, and to trust to that for our guide in naturcd things, is
simply what is termed " superstitionand surely the enlightened philosophy of the present day should teach
us that, in acting conformably with natural laws, we are following out God's decrees far more reverently
than by reasoning upon supernatural phenomena ; since what is beyond nature is beyond reason also, and
has no more right to enter into the social matter of prison discipline, than the feeding of people with manna
in the wilderness should form (instead of the ordinary laws of ploughing, manuring, and sowing) a part of
agricultural economy. >
Moreover, we deny that the majority of individuals who abstain from thieving are led to prefer honest to
dishonest practices from purely religious motives. Can it be said that the merchant in the city honours his
bills for the love of GodIs it not rather to uphold his worldly credit ? Do ym, gentle reader, when you
pay your accounts, hand the money over to your tradesman because the Almighty has cleansed your heart
from original sin ? and would even the jail chaplain himself continue to labour in his vocation, if there were
no salary in connection with the office ?
If, then, nine hundred and ninety-nine in every thousand of ordinary men abstain from picking pockets,
not because the Holy Ghost has entered their bosoms, but from prudential, or, if you will, honourable motives
—it it be true that the great mass of people are induced to work for their living mainly, if not solely, to get
money rather than serve God—then it is worse than foolish to strive to give any such canting motives to
criminals, und certainly not true, when it is asserted that people cannot be made honest by any other means
than by special interpositions of Providence. If the man who lives by " twisting," as it is caUcd—that is to
say, by passing pewter half-crowns in lieu of silver ones—can make his five pounds a week, and be quit of
bodily labour, when he could not earn, perhaps, a pound a week by honest industry—if the London " buzman "
(swell mobsman) can keep his pony by abstracting " skins " (purses) from gentlemen's pockets, when, per¬
haps, he could hardly get a pair of decent shoes to his feet as a lawyer's clerk—do you believe that any
preaching from the pulpit will be likely to induce such as these to adopt a form of life which has far more
labour and far less gains connected with it ?
We do not intend to deny that supernatural conversions of men from wickedness to righteousness
occasionally take place ; but, say we, these are the exceptions rather than the rule of life, and the great
mass of mankind is led to pursue an upright course, simply because fhey find that there is associated with it a
greater amount of happiness and comfort, both to themselves and "those who are near and dear to them, than
with the opposite practice. To turn the criminal, therefore, to the righteous path, we must be prepared to
show him that an honest life is calculated to yield to himself and his relatives more real pleasure than a
dishonest one ; and so long as we seek by our present mode of prison discipline to make saints of thieves,
just so long shall we continue to produce a thousand canting hypocrites to one real convert.
8'
THE GREAT WORLD OP LONDON.
portcullis gaticway of pentonville prison.
{Designed hy Sir Charles Barry.)
H i-
PENTONVILLE PRISON.
Half-way along that extreme northern thoroughfare which runs almost parallel with the
Thames, and which, under the name of the New Road, stretches from the " Yorkshire
Stin&o," by Paddington, to that great metropoKtan anomaly the city turnpike, there stands
an obeliskine lamp-post in the centre of the roadway. This spot is now known as "King's
Cross," in commemoration of a rude stucco statue of George the Pourth, that was once
erected here by an artistic bricklayer, and had a smaR police station in its pedestal, hut
which has long since been broken up and used to mend the highway that it formerly
encumbered.
Here is seen the terminus of the Great Northern Railway, with its brace of huge glass
archways, looking like a crystal imitation of the Thames Tunnel ; here, too, are found giant
public-houses, with "double frontage," or doors before and behind; and would-be grand
architectural depots for quack medicines; and enormous "crystal-palace" slop-shops, with
the front walls converted into one broad and high window, where the " Oxonian coats,"
and "Talma capes," and " Sydenham trousers," and " Pancy vests," are piled up several
storeys high, while the doorway is set round with sprucely-dressed " dummies" of young
gentlemen that have their gloved fingers spread out like bunches of radishes, and images of
grinning countrymen in " wide-awakes," and red plush waistcoats. ,
This same King's Cross is the Seven Dials of the New Road, whence a series of streets
PENTONVILLE PEISON.
113
diverge like spokes from the nave of a wheel ; and there is almost always the same crowd of
"cads" and "do-nothings" loitering about the public-houses in this quarter, and waiting
either for a job or a share of a gratuitous " quartern and three outs."
Proceeding hence by the roadway that radiates in a north-easterly direction, we cross the
vault-like bridge that spans the Eegent's Canal, whose banks here bristle with a crowd of
tail factory chimneys ; and then, after passing a series of newly-built "genteel" suburban
" terraces," the houses of which have each a little strip of garden, or rather grass-plot, in
front of them, we see the viaduct of the railway stretching across the road, high above the
pavement, and the tall signal posts, with their telegraphic arms, piercing the air. Imme¬
diately beyond this we behold a large new building walled aU round, with a long series of
mad-house-like windows, showing above the tall blicken boundary. In front of this, upon
the raised bank beside the roadway, stands a remarkable portcuHis-like gateway, jutting,
like a huge square porch or palatial archway, from the main entrance of the building, and
with a little square clock-tower just peeping up behind it.
This is PentonviEe Prison, vulgarly known as "the Model," and situate in the Caledonian
Eoad, that stretches from Bagnigge WeUs to HoEoway.
1Í i—"•
The Sistwy cmd Architectural Details of the Prison.
Before entering the prison, let us gather aE we can concerning the history and character
of the buEding.
It is a somewhat curious coincidence, that the system of separate confinement which
the Model Prison at PentonviEe was built to carry out, was originaEy commenced at the
House of Correction, at Gloucester, Tinder the auspices of (among others) Sir George
Onesiphorus Paul, the relative of one who is at present suffering imprisonment within
its walls.
This system of penal discipline was originaEy advocated by Sir William Blackstone
and the great prison reformer, Howard; and though it was made the subject of an Act of
ParEament in 1778, it was not put in practice tül some few years afterwards, and even then
the experiment at Gloucester " was not prosecuted," says the Government Eeports, " so as to
lead to any definite result."
The subject of separate confinement, however, was afterwards warmly taken up at
Philadelphia; "and the late Mr. Crawford," we are told, " was sent to America, in 1834,
to examine into and report his opinion upon the mode of penal discipline as there esta-
bEshed."
On the presentation to ParEament of the very able papers drawn up by Mr. Crawford
and Mr. Whitworth EusseE, the Inspectors of thé Prisons for the Home Distriet, the
subject came to be much discussed; and, in 1837, Lord John EusseE, then Secretary of State
for the Home Department, issued a circular to the magistracy, recommending the separate
system of penal discipline to their consideration.
Shortly after this it was determined to erect PentonviEe Prison, as a preEminary step, for
the purpose of practicaEy testing this " separate" method of penal treatment, and the name
originaEy appEed to it was "the Model Prison, on the separate system," it being proposed
to apply the plan, if successful, to the several jails throughout the kingdem.
The buEding was commenced on the 10th of April, 1840, and completed in 1842, at a
cost of about £85,000, after plans furnished by Lieut.-Col. Jebb, E.E. It was first occupied
in December of the latter year, and was appropriated, by direction of Sir James Graham, the
Home Secretary at that period, to the reception of a selected body of convicts, who were
14
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
{hero to undergo a term of probationary discipline previous to their transportation to the
colonies. Indeed, the letter -which Sir James Graham addressed to the Commissioners who
had been appointed to superintend the penal experiment, is so admirably ülustrative of the
objects aimed at in the institution of the prison at Pentonville, that we cannot do better than
repeat it here.
"Considering the excessive supply of labour in this country," says Sir James, "its
consequent depreciation, and the fastidious rejection of all those "whose character is tainted,
I wish to admit no prisoner into Pentonville who is not sentenced to transportation, and
who is not doomed to be transported ; for the convict on whom such discipline might produce
the most salutary eifect would, when liberated and thrown back on society in this country,
be still branded as a criminal, and have but an indifferent chance of a livelihood from the
profitable exercise of honest industry I propose, therefore, that no prisoner shaU
be admitted into Pentonville without the knowledge that it is the portal to the penal colony,
and without the certainty that he bids adieu to his connections in England, and that he
must henceforth look forward to a life of labour in another hemisphere.
" But from the day of his entrance into prison, while I extinguish the hope of return to
his family and friends, I would open to him, fully and distinctly, the fate which awaits him,
and the degree of influence which his own conduct will infallibly have over his future
fortunes.
" He should be made to feel that from that day he enters on a new career. He should
be told that his imprisonment is a period of probation ; that it -will not he prolonged above
eighteen months ; that an opportunity of learning those arts which -will enable him to earn
his bread will be afforded under the best instructors ; that moral and religious knowledge
wül be imparted to him as a guide to his future life ; that at the end of eighteen months,
when a just estimate can be formed of the effect produced by the discipline on his character,
he will be sent to Van Diemen's Land ; there, if he behave well, at once to receive a ticket-
of-leave, which is equivalent to freedom, -with a certainty of abundant maintenance—the
fruit of industry.
" If, however, he behave indifferently, he -will, on heing transported to Van Diemen's
Land, receive a probationary pass, which -wül secure to him only a limited portion of his
earnings, and impose certain galling restraints on his personal liberty.
" If, on the other hand, he behave ill, and the discipline of the prison be ineffectual, he
will be transported to Tasman's Peninsula, there to work in a probationary gang, -without
wages, and deprived of liberty—an abject convict."
Now, for the due carrying out of these objects, a Board of Commissioners was appointed,
among whom were two medical gentlemen of the highest reputation in their profession, and
whose duty it was to watch narrowly the effect of the system upon the health of the
prisoners.
" Eighteen months of «ae discipline," said Sir James Graham, in his letter to these
gentlemen, " appear to me to be ample for its full application. In that time the real
character wiU be developed, instruction will be imparted, new habits will be formed, a better
frame of mind will have been moulded, or else the heart -wiU have been hardened, and the
case be desperate. The period of imprisonment at Pentonvüle, therefore," he adds, " wiU
be strictly limited to eighteen months."
Thus wo perceive that the Model Prison was intended to be a place of instruction and
probation, rather than one of oppressive discipline, and was originally limited to adults
only, between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five.
From the year 1843 to 1848, -with a slight exception on the opening of the establishment,
the prisoners admitted into Pentonville were most carefuUy selected from the whole body of
convicts. A change, however, in the class of prisoners was the cause of some adverse
results in the year 1848, and in their Report for that year the Commissioners say—" Wo
PENTONVILLE PEISON.
115
axe sorry that, as to the health and mental condition of the prisoners, .we have to make a
ranch less satisfactory report than in any of the former years since the prison was esta¬
blished It may be difficult," they add, " to offer a certain explanation of the great
number of cases of death and of insanity that have occurred within the last year. "We have,
however, reason to believe that in the earlier years of this institution, the convicts sent here
were selected from a large number, and the selection was made with a more exclusive
regard to their physical capacity for undergoing this species of punishment."
Experience, then, appearing to indicate the necessity of some modification of the disci¬
pline at Pentonville, which, without any sacrifice of its efficiency, would render it more safe
and more generally available to all classes of convicts, " Sir George Grey," we are told,
" concurred iu the opinion of Sir Benjamin Brodie and Dr. Perguson, that the utmost watch¬
fulness and discretion on the part of the governor, chaplain, and medical attendants would
be requisite, in order to administer, with safety, the system established there."
It being no longer necessary to continue the experiment upon prison discipline, which
had been in full operation from 1843 to 1849, it was brought to a close, and the accom¬
modation in PentouviUe prison was thus rendered available for the general purposes of the
convict service.
Accordingly, the period of confinement in Pentonville Prison was first reduced from
eighteen to twelve months, and subsequently to nine months. Nevertheless, at the com¬
mencement of 1852, says an official document, "there occurred an unumally large number of
cases of mental affection among the prisoners, and it was therefore deemed necessary to
increase the ammmt of exercise in the open air, and to introduce the plan of brisk walking,
as pursued at Wakefield." The change, we are told, produced a most marked and beneficial
effect upon the general health of the inmates. Indeed, so much so, that " in the course of
the year following, there was," say the reports, "not one removal to Bedlam."*
* The number of removals from Pentonville to Bedlam, on the ground of insanity, as compared with the
preceding years, was, in the year 1851, found to he—
27 in 10,000 from 1842-49
32 „ „ „ 1850
16 „ ,, ,, 1851
16 „ ,, ,, 1852
0 „ „ „ 1853
10 „ „ „ 1854
20 „ „ „ 1854
The above ratio, however, expresses only the proportion per 10,000 prisoners removed to Bedlam as insane,
but the following table, which has been kindly furnished us by Mr. Bradley, the eminent medical officer of
Pentonville prison, gives the proportion of cases of mental disease occurring annually, after first 10 years ;
In 10 years, from 1843 to 1852 120 per 10,000 prisoners.
» »> 1853 60 ,, „
jr jJ 1854 38 ,, ,,
)> it 1855 59 ,, ,,
Hence it would appear that the improved treatment of shortened term of separation, rapid exercise, and
superior ventilation, has decreased the rate of insane cases to less than one-half what it was in the first 10
years. Still, much has to be done to bring the proportion down to the normal standard of all other prisons,
which is only 5'8 per 10,000 prisoners. Vide p. 103 of Great "World op London.
It is but just to state here that the Beports of the Commissioners, one and all, evince a marked consideration
and anxiety for the health of the convicts placed under their care ; and we are happy to have it in our power to
add, that our own personal experience teaches us that none could possibly show a greater interest, sympathy,
and kindness, for all "prisoners and captives," than the Surveyor-General of Prisons. It is a high satisfac¬
tion to find, when one comes to deal with prisons and prisoners, that almost every gentleman placed in autho¬
rity over the convicts appears to be actuated by the most humane and kindly motives towards them. Nor do
we, in saying thus much, judge merely from manner and external appearances. Our peculiar investigations
throw us into communication with many a liberated convict, who has served his probationary term at the
Model, and we can conscientiously aver, that we have never heard any speak but in the very highest termsî
both of the Governor of Pentonville. the Chaplain, and the Surveyor-General himself.
116
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
The ventilation was also improved by admitting the outer air direct to the ceUs, and the
discipline was at once relaxed when any injury to health was apprehended. Farther, when¬
ever there was reason to believe that a prisoner was likely to bç injuriously affected by the
discipline, he was, in conformity with the instructions of the directors, removed from strict
separate confinement, and put to work in association with other prisoners.*
Such, then, is the history of the institution, and the reasons for the changes connected
with the discipline, of PentonviUe Prison.
As regards the details of the building itself, the following are the technical particulars :—
The prison occupies an area of 6| acres. It has " a curtain wall with massive posterns in
front," where, as we have said, stands a large entrance gateway, the latter designed by Barry,
whose arches are filled with portcullis work; whilst from the main building rises an
"Italian" clock-tower. From the central corridor within radiate four wings, constructed after
the fashion of spokes to a half-wheel, and one long entrance hall, leading to the central
point. The interior of each of the four wings or " corridors" is fitted with 130 cells, arranged
in three "galleries" or storeys, one above the other, and each floor contains some forty-odd
apartments for separate confinement.
(From a Dra^Jng in the Report of the Surveyor-General of PriBons.)
Every cell is 13| feet long bj feet broad, and 9 feet high, and contains an earthenware
water-closet, and copper wash-basin, supplied with water ; a three-legged stool, table, and
shaded gas-burner—^besides a hammock for slinging at night, furnished with mattress and
• The total number withdrawn from separation in the year 1854 was 66, and 23 of these were put to
work in association on mental grounds, consisting of cases in which men of low intellect began under separate ■
confinement to exhibit mental excitement, depression, or irritability, whilst 12 more were removed to public
works before the expiration of their term of separate confinement, because they were, in the words of the
medical officer, " likely to be injuriously affected by the discipline of the prison." By a summary of a list
of the cases reqmring medical treatment—as given in the Medical Officer's Report for 1855—we find, that
of the diseases, 35'9 per cent, consist of constipation, and 16*5 per cent, of dyspepsia—the other affections
being " catarrhs," of which the proportion is 20-7 per cent., and diarrhoea lO'O per cent., whilst the remaining
16'9 per cent, was made up of a variety of trivial and anomalous cases.
PENTONVILI/E PKISON.
117
blaniets. In the door of every cell is an eyelet-hole, through which the officer on duty
may observe what is going on within from without. Each of the cells is said to have
cost, on an average, upwards of £150.
The building is heated by hot water on the basement, and the ventilation is maintaiaed
by an immense shaft in the roof of each wing. The prison has also a chapel on the separate
system, fitted with some four hundred distinct stalls or sittings, for the prisoners, and so
arranged that the officers on duty, during divine service, may have each man under their sur-
veillmee. There are also exercising yards for single prisoners, between each of the radiating
wings, and two larger yards—one on either side of the entrance-hall—for exercising large
bodies of the prisoners collectively.
Moreover, there are artesian wells for supplying the prison with water, and a gas-factory
for lighting the building. Indeed, the prison is constructed and fitted according to all the
refinements of modem science, and complete in all its appliances.*
1ÍÍ-/3-
Tke Interior of Pentonville Prison.
Artists and Poets clamour loudly about "ideals," but these same artistic and poetic
idealities are, in most cases, utterly unlike the realities of Ufe, being usually images begotten
by narrow sentiments rather than the abstract results of large observation ; for idealization
* On March the 13th, 1856, there were 368 prisoners confined here ; and these were thus distributed
over the budding
Corridor A
Corridor B
(■JNo. 1 Ward 24 prisoners^
V 2 „ 27 „
* ji ® » ^2a ,, )
(No. 1 Ward 26a prisoners)
» 2 „ 22 „ \
,, 3 „ 32 ,, '
93
80
Corridor C
Corridor D
fNo. 1 Ward 26
2 „ 21
3 „ 38
, 1 Ward 205
2 ,, 40a
3 „ 21aa
4 „ 29
prisoners'!
" Í
prisoners
»
85
110
368
The letter a affixed to some of the numbers above given, signifies that one man, and aa, two men, out of
that ward were confined in the refractory cells ; and 5 that there was one from that part of the budding sick
in the infirmary-ward. D 4 is the associated ward, and at the basement of the southern part of the budding.
The foUowing table gives a statement of the number of prisoners received and sent away in the course
of a year :—
Number ant> Disfosal op Prisoners at Pentonville Prison during the Year 1854.
Bemaining 31st December, 1853 . . 489
Admitted during the year 1854 , . 436
These 925 prisoners were disposed of as
foUows :—
Transferred to Portland Prison . . 193
Portsmouth . . . 120
Dartmoor ... 20
" Stirling Castle" Hulk . 2
925
>»
>»
»
»
Pardoned free
,, conditional .
„ on medical grounds
„ on licence
Died
Suicide ....
Bemaining 31st December, 1854
1
3
1
37
8
1
387
538
925
Bethlehem Hospital (insane) 1
Of the 436 prisoners admitted during 1854, the following is a statement of the ages
13 were between the age of 45 and 50 years.
® I, „ 50 ,, 55
2 ,, „ 55 „ 60
3 were under the age of 17 years,
243 were between „ 17 and 25 years.
79 „ „ 25 ,, 30 ,,
51 „ „ 30 ,, 35 „
35
40
11
»
I
»
436
Proportion of prisoners between 17and 25 years, 55 7
118
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
is—or at least should be—-in matters of art what generalization is in science, since a pictorial
"t3rpo" is but the aesthetic equivalent of a natural "order;" and as the "genus" in philosophy
should express merely the point of agreement among a number of diverse phenomena, even
so that graphic essence which is termed "character" should represent the peculiar form
common to a variety of visible things.
We remember once seeing an engraving that was intended for an ideal portrait of the
common hangman, in which the hair was of the approved convict cut, with a small viUainouB
valance left dangling in front—the forehead as low as anape's—the brow repulsively beetled and
overhanging as eaves, whilst the sunken eyes were like miniature embrasures pregnant with
their black artillery. And yet, when we made the acquaintance of Calcraft, we found him
bearing the impress of no such monster, but rather so " respectable" in his appearance, that
on first beholding a gentleman in a broad brimmed hat and bushy iron gray hair, seated at the
little table in the lobby of Newgate, with his hands, too, resting on the knob of his Malacca
cane, we mistook him for some dissenting minister, who had come to offer consolation to one
of the wretched inmates. Nor could we help mentally contrasting the loathsome artistic
ideality with the almost humane-looking reality before us.
The same violence, too, is done to our preconceived notions by the first sight of the jailer
of the present day. The ideal leads us to picture such a functionary in our minds as a kind
of human Cerberus—a creature that looks as surly and sullen as an officer of the Inquisition,
and with a bunch of huge keys fastened to his waist, whose jangle, as he moves, reminds
one of the clink of fetters. The reality, however, proves on acquaintance to be generally a
gentleman with a half military air, who, so far from being characterized by any of the vulgar
notions of the stem and crael-minded prison-keeper, is usually marked by an almost tender
consideration for those placed under his charge, and who is certainly prompted by the same
desire that distinguishes aU better-class people now-a-days, to ameliorate the condition of
their unfortunate feUows.
At PentonviUe, the same mental conflict between vulgar preconceptions and strange matter
of fact ensues ; for the prison there is utterly unlike ah our imaginary pictures of prisons—^the
governor a kind-hearted gentleman, rather than approaching to the fanciful type of the unfeeling
jailer—and the turnkeys a kind of mixture between poUcemen and military officers in un¬
dress, instead of the ferocious-looking prison-officials ordinarily represented on the stage.
No sooner is the prison door opened in answer to our summons at the bell, than we
might believe we were inside some little park lodge, so tidy and cozy and unjail-like is the
place ; and here is the same capacious hooded chair, like the head of a gigantic cradle, that
is usuaRy found in the haU of large mansions.
The officer, as he holds back the portal, and listens to our inquiry as to whether the
Governor be visible, raises his hand to his glazed military cap, and salutes us soldier-fashion,
as ho replies briskly, " Yessir."
Having produced our Government order, to allow us to inspect the prison, we axe
ushered across a smaU paved court-yard, and then up a broad flight of stone steps to the
large glass door that admits us to the passage leading to the prison itself. The officer who
accompanies us is habited in a single-breasted, policeman-like, frock coat, with a bright
brass crown bulging from its stiff, stand-up collar, and roimd his waist he wears a broad
leathem strap, with a shiny cartouche-box behind, in which he carries his keys. These
keys are now withdrawn, and the semi-glass door—that is so utterly unlike the gloomy and
ponderous prison portal of olden times—^is thrown back for us to pass through.
We are then at the end of a long and broad passage, which is more hke the lengthy haU
to some Government office, than the entrance to an old-fashioned jail, and at the opposite
extremity we can just see, through the windows of the other door there, figures flitting
backwards and forwards in the bright light of what we afterwards leam is the " centre
corridor" of the building.
PEN TON VILLE PEISON.
119
The first thing that strikes the mind on entering the prison passage, is the wondrous and
perfectly Dutch-like cleanliness pervading the place. The floor, which is of asphalte, has
been polished, by continual sweeping, so bright that we can hardly believe it has not been
black-leaded, and so utterly free from dust are aU the mouldings of the trim stucco walls,
that we would defy the sharp¬
est housewife to get as much
off upon her fingers as she
could brush even from a but¬
terfly's wing.
In no private house is it
possible to see the like of this
dainty cleanliness, and as we
walk along the passage we
cannot help wondering why it
is that we should find the per¬
fection of the domestic virtue
in such an abiding-place.
"We are shown into a small
waiting-room on one side of
the passage, while the officer
goes to apprise the governor
of our presence ; and here we
have to enter our name in a
book, and speciiy the date, as
well as by whose permission
we have come. ^ Here, too, we
find the same scrupulous tidi¬
ness, and utter freedom from
dirt—the stove being as lus¬
trous, from its frequent coats
of "black-lead," as if it had
been newly carved out of solid
plumbago.
A few minutes afterwards,
we are handed over to a war¬
der, who receives instructions
to accompany us rormd the pri¬
son; and then, being con¬
ducted through the glass door
at the other end of the pas¬
sage, we stand, for the first time,
in the " centre corridor" of
the " Model Prison."
To conceive the peculiar
character of tHs buüding, the corridor at pentonvidle prison.
reader must imagine four long Surveyor-General of Prison,.)
" wings," or " corridors," as they are officially styled, radiating from a centre, like the
spokes in a half-wheel; or, what is better, a series of light and lofty tunnels, all diverging
from one point, after the manner of the prongs in an open fan. Indeed, when we first
entered the inner part of the prison, the lengthy and high corridors, with their sky-light
120
THE GKEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
roofs, seemed to us like a bunch of Burlington Arcades, that had been fitted up in the style
of the opera-box lobbies, with an infinity of little doors—these same doors being ranged, not
only one after another, but one above another, three storeys high, till the waUs of the arcades
■were pierced as thick with them as the tall and lengthy sides of a man-of-war with its him-
dred port-holes.
Then there are narrow iron galleries stretching along in front of each of the upper floors,
after the manner of lengthy balconies, and reaching from one end of the arcades to the
other, whilst these are so light in their construction, that in the extreme length of the
several wings they look almost like ledges jutting from the waUs.
Half-way down each corridor, too, there is seen, high in the air, a light bridge, similar
to the one joining the paddle-boxes on board a steamer, connecting the galleries on either
side of every floor.
Nevertheless, it is not the long, arcade-like corridors, nor the opera-lobby-like series of
doors, nor the lengthy balconies stretching along each gallery, nor the paddle-box-Hke bridges
connecting the opposite sides of the arcade, that constitute the peculiar character of Penton-
viUe prison. Its distinctive featiu'e, on the contrary—the one that renders it utterly dissimi¬
lar firom all other jaUs—is the extremely bright, and cheerful, and airy quality of the
building ; so that, vdth its long, light corridors, it strikes the mind, on first entering it, as a
bit of the Crystal Palace, stripped of all its contents. There is none of the gloom, nor dungeon¬
like character of a jail appertaining to it; nor are there bolts and heavy locks to grate upon
the ear at every turn ; whilst even the windows are destitute of the proverbial prison-bars—
the frames of these being made of iron, and the panes so small that they serve at once as
safeguards and sashes.
Moreover, so admirably is the ventilation of the building contrived and kept up, that
there is not the least sense of closeness pervading it, for we feel, immediately we set foot in
the place, how fresh and pure is the atmosphere there ; and that, at least, in that prison, no
wretched captive can sigh to breathe the " free air of Heaven," since in the open country
itself it could not be less stagnant than in the " model" jail—even though there be, as at the
time of our visit, upwards of 400 men confined day and night—sleeping, breathing, and per¬
forming all the functions of nature in their 400 separate eeUs throughout the place.
The cells distributed throughout this magnificent building are about the size of the interior
of a large and roomy omnibus, but some feet higher, and they seem to those who are not doomed
to dwell in them—apart from all the world without—really comfortable apartments. In such,
however, as contain a loom (and a large number of the cells on the ground-floor are fitted with
those instruments), there is not a superabimdance of spare room. Nevertheless, there is
sufficient capacity, as well as Hght, in each, to make the place seem to a free man a light,
airy, and cheerful abode. Against the wall, on one side, is set the bright, copper hand-basin
—not unlike a big funnel—with a tap of water immediately above it ; at the extreme end
of the cell is the small closet, well supplied with water-pipes ; and in another part you see
the shaded gas-jet, whilst in one of the comers by the door are some two or three triangular
shelves, where the prisoner's spoon, platter, mug, and soap-box, &c., are stowed. On
the upper of these shelves, the roUed-up hammock, with its bedding, stands on end, like a
huge muff, and let into the wall on either side, some three feet from the ground, are two
large bright eyelet holes, to which the hammock is slung at night, as shown in the engraving.
Then there is a little table and stool, and occasionally on the former may be found some brown
paper-covered book or periodical, with which the prisoner has been supplied from the prison
library. In one cell which we entered, while the men were at exercise in the yard, we found
a copy of " Old Httkpheet's Thoughts," and in another, a recent nmnber of " Chambebs's
Edihhuegh Jouenax" left open on the table. Moreover, hanging against the wall is a
pasteboard bül, headed, " Notice to Convicts," and the "Rules and Regulations" of the
prison, as weU as the little card inscribed with the prisoner's " registered number" (for in
Pentonvülc prison all names cease), and citing not only his previous occupation, but term
PENTONVILLE PRISON.
121
of sentence, date of conviction, &c. Further, there is, in the comer near the cupboard, a
button, -which, on being turned, causes a small gong to be stmck in the corridor -without,
and at the same moment makes a metal plate or " index" outside the door start out at
right angles to the wall, so that the warder, when summoned by the bell, may know which
prisoner has rung.
On this index is painted the number of the cell, and as you walk along the corridors you
observe, not only a large black letter painted at the entrance of each arcade, but a series of
these same indices, each inscribed with a different number, and (except where the gong
has been recently sounded) flat against the wall beside the door. Now these letters on the
corridors, as well as the indices beside the doors, are used not only to express the positioh
of the cell, but, strange to say, the name of the prisoner confined -within it ; for here, as we
said, men have no longer Christian and surnames to distinguish them one from the other, but
are called merely after the position of cell they occupy. Hence, no matter what the appella¬
tion of a man may have been—or even whether he bore a noble title before entering the
prison—immediately he comes as a convict -within its precincts, he is from that time kno-wn as
D 3, 4, or B 2, 10, as the case may be, and wears at his breast a charity-boy-like brass badge so
inscribed, to mark him from the rest. Thus he is no longer James This, or Mr. That, or
even Sir John So-and-so, but simply the prisoner confined in corridor D, gallery 3, and cell 4,
or else the one in corridor B, gallery 2, and cell 10 ; so that instead of addressing prisoners
here as Brown, Jones, and Robinson, the warder in whose gallery and corridor those con¬
victs may háppen to be calls them, for brevity sake, simply and indi-vidnaUy by the number
of the cells they occupy in his part of the building. Accordingly the oflicer on duty may
occasionally be heard to cry to some one of the prisoners under his charge, "Now step
out there 4, -will you? " or, " Turn out here. Number 6."*
• The following is a list of the several officers of Pentonville Prison in the year 1856 :—
Name.
Rank.
Robert Hosking - -
-
Governor
Rev. Joseph Kingsmill
-
Chaplain
Ambrose Sherwin - -
.
Assistant do.
Charles L. Bradley -
-
Medical Officer
William H. Foster -
Steward & Manufacturer
Alfred P. Nantes - -
-
Governor's Clerk
Angus Macpherson -
-
Accountant Clerk
Edward Tottenham -
-
Steward's Clerk
Robert Yellsly - -
-
Assistant do.
Thomas Carr - - -
_
Manufacturer's Clerk
James Maya - - -
-
Assistant do.
John Wilson - . -
_
Schoolmaster
Charles Hregg - - -
-
Assistant do.
Edward J. Hoare - -
-
Do. and Organist
Terence Nulty - -
-
Chief Warder
John Jenkins - - -
-
Principal Warder
David Adamson - -
-
Ditto
John Smart -
.
Warder
William Wood - -
_
Adam Corrie -
_
William Heating - -
-
M
Senthil Lindsay - -
-
11
David Darling - -
-
11
Michael Laffan - -
_
Robert Green -
_
11
John Snellgrove - -
.
11
Edward Edwards - -
-
11
James Snowball - -
Assistant Warder
Richard Wilcocks
_
19
Peter Cameron - -
_
11
John Whitchurst - -
-
»1
Name,
John fronegan - -
James Hampton - -
Joseph Matthews - -
John Bap tie -
Thomas Hirst -
John Armstrong - -
John Fitzgerald - -
Martin Burke - - -
Amos Driver - - -
William Callway - -
John White -
Edward Bevan - -
Thomas Charlesworth
Samuel Whitley - -
Arthur Eeenan - -
William Matthis - -
George Larkin - -
Thomas R. Yeates
Thomas Rogers - -
Stephen Oatley - -
Robert Lyon - - -
Charles Poole - - .
John Pride - - -
Edward Gannon - -
Matthew Yates - -
William Butler - -
Griffin Crannis - -
John Beckley ...
John CUdingbowl
Rank.
Assistant Warder
- Warder Instructor
Assist. Warder Instmctor
Infirmary Warder
Gate Porter
Inner Gate Porter
Messenger
Foreman of Works
Plumber
Gasmaker
Assistant ditto
Engine-man
Stoker
Steward's Porter
Manufacturers' Porter
Carter
Cook
Baker
122
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDON.
H i—r-
A Worh-Bay at Pentmville.
To understand the " routine" of Pentonville Prison, it is necessary to spend one entire long
day in the establishment, from the very opening to the closing of the prison ; and if there be
any convicts leaving for the public works, as on the day we chose for our visit, the stranger
must he prepared to stay at least eighteen hours within the walls. Nor, to our mind,
can time be more interestingly passed.
The stars were still shining coldly in the silver gray sky on the morning when we left
our home to witness the departure of some thirty-odd prisoners from Pentonville for Ports¬
mouth. We were anxious to discover with what feelings the poor wretches, who had spent
their nine months at the Model, excluded from all intercourse hut that of prison officers,
would look forward to their liberation from separate confinement ; and though we had been
informed over-night that the "batch" was to leave as early as a quarter past 5 a.m.,
we did not regret having to turn out into the streets, with the cold March morning winds
blowing so sharp in the face as to fill the eyes with tears.
As we slammed our door after us, the deserted street seemed to tremble as it echoed
again with the noise. On the opposite side of the way, the policeman, in hip long great
coat, was busy throwing the light of his bull's-eye upon the doors and parlour windows, and
down into the areas, as he passed on his rounds, making the dark walls flicker with the glare
as if a Jack-a-Dandy had been cast upon them, and, startled by the sound, he turned sud¬
denly round to direct his lantern towards us as if he really took us for one of the burglarious
characters we were about to visit.
The cabmen at the nearest stand were asleep inside their rickety old broughams, and as
we turned into Tottenham Court Road we encoimtered the early street coffee-stall keeper
with his large coffee-cans dangling from either end of a yoke across his shoulders, and the
red fire shining through the holes of the fire-pan beneath like spots of crimson foil.
Then, as we hurried on, we passed here and there a butcher's light " chay-cart" with the
name painted on the side, hunying off to the early meat-markets, and the men huddled in
the bottom of the vehicle, behind the driver with their coat-collars turned up, and dozing as
they went. Next came some tall and stalwart brewer's drayman (they are always the
first in the streets), in his dirty drab flushing jacket, and leathern leggings, hastening towards
the brewery ; and, at some long distance after him, we met an old ragged crone, tottering on
her way to the Earringdon water-cress market with her " shallow " imder her arm, and her
old rusty frayed shawl drawn tight round her ; whilst here and there we should see a stray
hone-grubber, or " pure " finder, in his shiny grimy tatters, " routing " among the precious
muck-heaps for rich rags and valuable refuse. '
Strange and almost fearful was the silence of the streets, at that hour ! So stUl, indeed,
were they that we could hear the heavy single knock, followed by the shrill cry of the
chimney-sweep, echoing through the desolate thoroughfares, as he waited at some door hard by
and shrieked, " Swe—e—eep !" to rouse the sleeping cook-maid.- Then every foot-fall seemed
to tell upon the ßavement like the tramp of the night-police, and we could hear the early
workmen trudging away, long before we saw them coming towards us, some with their basin
of food ftír the day done up in a handkerchief, and dangling from their hand—and others
like the smoky and unwashed smiths -with an old nut-hasket full of tools slung over their
shoulder upon the head of a hammer—the bricklayer with his large wooden level and coarse
nailbag full of trowels hanging at his back—and the carpenter on his way to some new
suburban building in his flannel jacket and rolled-up apron, and with the end of his saw and
jack-plane peeping from his tool-basket behind ; while here and there, as we got into the
PENTOFVILLE PRISON.
123
neiglibotirhood of King's Cross, we should pass some railway guard or porter on his way to the
terminus for the early trains.
"While jogging along in the darkness—for still there was not a gleam of daybreak visible—
we could not help thinking, what would the wretched creatures we were about to visit not
give to be allowed one half-hour's walk through those cold and gloomy streets, and how beauti¬
ful one such stroU in the London thorouglifares would appear to them—beautiful as quitting
the house, after a long sickness, is to us.
Nor could we help, at the same time, speculating as to the perversity of the natures that,
despite all the long privations of jail, and the severe trial of separate confinement, would,
nevertheless, many of them, as we knew, return to their former practices immediately they
were liberated. Granted, said we to ourselves (forgetting, in our reveries, to continue our
observations of the passing objects), that some would be honest if society would but cease to
persecute them for their former crimes. Still many, we were aware, were utterly incapable of
reformation, for figures prove to us that there is a certain per centage among the criminal
class who are absolutely incorrigible'. Nevertheless, the very fact of there leing such a per
centage, and this same perversity of nature being reducible to a law, seemed to us to rank it
like lunacy, among the inscrutable decrees of the All-Wise, and thus to temper our indigna¬
tion with pity. Then we could not help thinking of the tearful homes that these wretched
people had left outside their prison walls, for, hardened as we may fancy them, they and theirs
are marked by the same love of kindred as ourselves—such love, indeed, being often the
only channel left open to their heart ; and, moreover, how sorely, in punishing the guilty, we
are compelled to punish the innocent also.*
We were suddenly aroused from our reverie by the scream of the early goods' train, and
presently the long line of railway wagons came rattling and rumbling across the viaduct over
the street, the clouds of steam firom the engine seeming almost an iron gray colour in the
darkness.
The next minute we were at the Model Prison, Pentonvüle ; but as the warders were
not yet assembled outside the gate, and we saw bright lines of light shining through the
cracks over and under the door of one of the neighbouring shops, we made bold to knock and
claim a short shelter there.
• As a proof that no " morbid sentimentality" gave rise to the above remarks, we will quote the following
letter as one among many that it is our lot to receive
" March 24tb, 1856.
" Sm,—An anxious mother, who has an unfortunate son now about to be liberated from the convict
prison, Portsmouth, is very desirous of obtaining an interview with you on his behalf, and would feel truly
grateful for such a favom.—From your must obedient and humble servant,
"A. S."
Here is another illustration of the fact, that one guilty man's misery involves that of many innocent people :—
" March 19th, 1845.
" Sib,—am a poor, unfortunate, characterless man, who have returned from jail, with a desire to earn
an honest living for the future, and I make bold to write to you, begging your kind assistance in my present
distress.
" I left the House of Correction on "Wednesday last, 12th inst., after an incarceration of six calendar
months, to which I was sentenced for obtaining money by means of representing myself as a solicitor, and to
which offence I pleaded guilty. My prosecutors, finding that I was induced to commit myself through
poverty, would gladly have withdrawn from the case, but could not, being bound over.
" Coming home, I found a wife and five children depending upon me for support—the parish having at
once stopped the relief, and the army work (at which they earned a few shillings) having fallen off alto¬
gether ; therefore I am in a most distressed position, not having clothes out of pledge to go after employ¬
ment in, or I doubt not but that I could get employment, as I have a Mend who would become surety for me
in a situation.
" If, therefore, you can render me any assistance, you will indeed confer a favour on. Sir, your very
obedient servant,
<'J. B."
124
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
It happened to be a coffee-shop. We found the little room in a thick fog of smoke from
the newly-lighted fire, and the proprietor busy making the morning's supply of the " best
Mocha "—possible, at a penny a cup.
We had not long to wait, for presently the shopkeeper apprised us that the warders were
beginning to assemble ; and truly, on reaching the gateway once more, we found a group of
some two dozen officers waiting to be admitted to the prison.
Presently the outer door was opened, when the warders passed into the court-yard and
stood upon the broad flight of steps, in a group round the glass door leading to the entrance-
hall. Here they reckoned among themselves as to whether they were all assembled, and
fiinding that one or two were wanting, the rest looked up at the clock and said, " Oh, it
wants five minutes to the quarter yet."
" They are safe to be here," said one to us, privately ; " for there's a heavy fine if a man
isn't true to his time." Sure enough, the next moment the two missing warders entered the
yard, and the glass door being opened, we all proceeded, in company with one of the principal
warders—marked by the gold lace band round his cap— into a smaU room on the left-liand
side of the passage.
" The chief warder sleeps here, sir," said the officer whom the governor had kindly
directed to attend us through the day, and to instruct us upon all the details of the prison.
There was no sign of bed in the room, and the only indication we had that the chief
officer had passed the night in the building was, that he was in the act of slipping on his
coat as we entered the apartment.
A large iron safe, let into the wall of this room, was now unlocked, and a covered tray, or
drawer, that was not unlike an immense wooden portable desk, was withdrawn and carried
into the lobby, while the contents jangled so loudly with the motion, that it was not difficult
to surmise that in it the officers' keys were kept. Here it was placed upon a chair, and,
when opened, revealed some twenty-eight bunches of large keys hanging upon as many
different hooks.
These were distributed by one of the principal warders to the several officers throughout
the building, and this done, we were once more conducted into the interior of the prison,
where we found the gas stiU burning in the corridors and the lights shining on the polished
asphalte floors, in long luminous lines, like the lamps in the streets reflected upon the pave¬
ment on a wet night.
The blue light of early dawn was now just beginning to show through the skylights
of the long arcades, but hardly had we noticed the cold azure look of the coming day,
contrasting, as it did, with the warm yeUow light of the gas within, than the corridors
began to hum again with the booming of the clock-tower bell, ringing, as usual, at half-past
five, to call the officials.
We walked with the warder down the several corridors, and, as we did so, the officers on
duty proceeded to carry the bread and cocoa round to the prisoners who were about to leave
that morning for the public works at Portsmouth. And then the halls rang, now with the
rattling of the trucks on which the breakfast was being wheeled from cell to ceU, and now
with the opening and shutting of the little trap in each cell-door, through which the food
was given to the prisoner within ; the rapid succession of the noises teUing you how briskly
and dexterously the work was done.
"You see those clothes, and tables, and chairs outside the ceR-doors, there?" said the
warder, as he led us along the corridors; " they belong to men who have attempted to break
out of other prisons, so we leave them nothing but their bed and bare walls for the night.
Now there, at that door, you perceive, are merely the clothes, and shoes, and tools of the
prisoner within ; he's one of the bricklayers who has worked out in the grounds, so we trust
such as him with nothing but the flannel drawers they sleep in from nine at night tül
six in the morning. Oh, yes, sir ! we are obliged to be very particular here, for the men have
PEJÎîTOirVILLE PEISON.
125
tools given them to work with, and therefore we make them put all such articles outside their
cell-doors just before they go to bed ; but when a man is a notorionsly desperate prison-
breaker, we don't even allow him so much as a tin can for his soup, for we know that, if we
did so, he would probably convert the wire round the rim into a pick-lock, to open his door
Yes, sir, convicts are mostly very ingenious at such things."
By this time we had reached the end of the ward, where stood a small counting-house¬
like desk, partitioned off from the other part of the corridor.
" This is the warders' ofiice," our informant continued, " and the clock you see there, in
front of it, is the 'tell-tale.' There is one such in each ward. It has, you observe, a number
of pegs, one at every quarter of an hour, projecting like cogs from round the edge of the dial-
plate, which is here made to revolve instead of the hands. At the side, you perceive, there's
a string for pulling down the small metal tongue that stands just over the top peg, and
the consequence is, that unless the oflcer who is on duty in the night comes here on his
rounds precisely at the moment when that top peg should be pushed down, it will have passed
from under the tongue, and stand up as a register of neglect of duty against him. There are
a number of these clocks throughout the prison, and the warders have to pull some of the
pegs at the quarters, some at the half-hours, and others at the hours. They are all set by
the large time-piece in the centre, and so as just to allow the ofdcer to go from one ward to
the other."
" If a man's bell rings in the night ? " asked we.
" Why," was the ready answer, "the trap of his ceU-door is let down, and the ofilcer on
duty thrusts in a bull's-eye lantern so as to see what is the matter ; the prisoner makes his
complaint, and, if sick, the chief warder is called, who orders, if he thinks it necessary, the
infirmary warder to come to him. There are four warders on duty every night, from ten till
six the next morning, and each of the four has to keep two hours' watch."
*#* Be^wrtwre of Convicts.—Scarcely had our attendant finished his account of the night
duties, when a large town-crier's beU clattered through the building. This was the quarter-
to-six summons to wake the prisoners; and, five minutes afterwards, the bell was rung again
to call the officers a second time.
The chief warder now took up his station in the centre corridor, and saying to the ofdcer
near him, "Turn down! " the big brass beU once more rattled in the ears, whereupon a
stream of brown-clad convicts cáhie pouring from out their cells, and marched at a rapid pace
along the northern corridor (A) towards the centre of the building. These were some of the
prisoners who were about to leave for the public works at Portsmouth. The smiles upon
their faces said as much.
"Pall in !" cried the chief warder, and in a moment the whole of the men drew them¬
selves up, like soldiers, in a line across the centre corridor, each holding his registry-card
close up at his breast ; but now the deep cloth peaks to their prison caps were bent up, and
no longer served as a mask to the face.
Hardly was this over before another brown gang of prisoners hastened from the southern
corridor (D), and drew themselves briskly up in the rear of the others.
Then the chief warder proceeded to call over the registered number and name of each
convict, whilst one of the principals stood by to check the card as the name was cried out
and directly this was finished, the gang was made to "face" and march, through the glass
doors, into the entrance hall.
Here they were drawn up on one side of flie passage ; then an oflicer cried, in a military
tone, " Tum up your right-hand cuflFs, aU of you !" and thereupon the warders proceeded
to fasten round each of their wrists one of the bright steel handcuffs that were ranged upon a
little table in the lobby. This done, a stout steel chain was reaved through each of the eyelet
9
126
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
holes attached to the cuffs, and some ten or a dozen of the prisoners thus strung together.
When the first detachment was chained to each other, another half-score went through the
same operation, whilst the previous string of prisoners moved down towards the end of the
passage, each pulhng a different way, like coupled hounds, and the chain grating as they
dragged one another along.
We followed the wretched fellows to the door, to watch the expression of their faces when
they beheld the three omnibuses waiting in the court-yard to carry them to the Terminus of
the South-Western Railway. As the men stood ranged along the passage beside the doorway,
many of them craned their necks forward to get a peep at the vehicles without, smiling again
as they beheld them.
"Yes, sir, they like it well enough," said our attendant, who was still at our elbow ;
"it's a great change for them—a great change—after being nine months in one place."
" Are you pleased to go away, my man ?" said we, to the one nearest the door.
" Oh, yes!" replied he, in a country accent. He had been convicted of sheep-stealing,
and the agricultural class of convicts, the prison authorities all agree, is the best disposed of
the men who come under their charge. As the prisoner spake the words, we could see
his very eyes twinkle again at the prospect of another peep at the fields.
"What have you got there?" cried an officer, in a commanding tone, to one of the
gang, who had a bundle of something tied in a handkerchief.
" They're books, sir; hymn-books and tracts that the chaplain has allowed me to have,"
replied the prisoner in a meek tone.
" That man yonder," whispered a warder to us, " two off from the one with the books,
has passed thirty-eight years of his life in prison, and he's only forty-seven years old."
" Remember, men," said the chief warder, addressing the prisoners before they passed
into the court-yard, " the officer who goes with you has power to speak well of you ;
and the first thing that wiU be asked of him at Portsmouth will be, ' How have the men
behaved on the way down ?' So do you aU take care and have a good character from him,
for it WÜ1 serve you where you 're going."
" How, warder Corrie 1" the chief officer adds to the warder on duty ; and instantly the
doors are unlocked, and the three strings of prisoners are let out into the court-yard, one
after the other—the foremost man of each dragging at the chain to puU. the others after him,
and those in the rear holding back so as to prevent their wrists being suddenly jerked for¬
wards, while the iron links almost crackle again as they reave to and fro.
The omnibuses waiting in the court-yard were the ordinary public vehicles, such as one
sees, every day, streaming through the streets to the Bank ; and perched high on the little
coach-box sat the usual seedy and would-be " fast "-looking driver, whilst beside the door,
instead of the customary placard of " 6d. all the way," was pasted on each carriage a large
sheet of paper, inscribed either 1, 2, or 3, for the occasion.
The prisoners went scrambling up the steps of the vehicles, dragging at the chain as
before, whUe the officers in attendance cried to those who hung back to keep off the strain—
"Come, move on there behind—wiU you?"
"When the omnibuses were fiUed with their ten or twelve prisoners, an officer entered each,
and seated himself near the doorway, whereupon the chief warder proceeded to the steps of
the vehicles one after another, and asked—" How, warder, how many men have you got ?"
" Ten !" was shouted, in reply, from the interior of one carriage, and " Twelve !" from another.
After which one of the principal warders—distinguished by the gold-lace band round his
cap—^mounted the box of the first, and sat down beside the driver.
" He goes with them, sir, to clear the bridges," whispered our attendant ; and scarcely had
he spoken the words before there was a cry of " All right !—go on !" and instantly the
huge, massive gates that open out upon the stately porch in front of the prison were thrown
back, and we could see the light of early morning glittering through the squai-es of the port-
PEIÍTONVILLE PBISOIÍ'.
127
cuHis without. Then the stones clattered with the patter of the iron hoofs and rumhle of
the wheels ; and one conld observe the heads of the prisoners aU in motion within the vehicle
—some looking through the doorway hack upon the prison, and others peeping thrpugh the
windows at the comparatively new scene outside the walls.
And, it must be confessed, there was not one tearful eye to be noted among that unfortunate
convict troop ; on the contrary, every cheek was puckered with smiles at the sense that they
were bidding adieu to the place of their long isolation from the world.
We would cheerfully, had it been possible, have travelled with the prisoners to their
destination at Portsmouth ; for, to the student of human nature, it would have been a high
lesson to have seen the sudden delight beam in every face as the omnibus passed by some
familiar scene, or, may-be, the dwellings of their friends or kindred, by the way; and, as the
railway train darted with them through the country, to have watched the various emotions
play in their countenances as they beheld once more the green fields, and river, and the hills
and woods, and envied, perhaps, the very sheep and cattle grazing at liberty upon the plains.
" Still," said we to ourselves, as we mused mournfully after the departure of the convict
vehicles, " the reality doubtlessly would be whoUy unlike our preconceptions of the scene
for with such men as those we had watched away there is often a mere vacuity of mind—a kind
of waiting dreaminess—a mental and moral anaesthesia, as it were, that renders them insen¬
sible to the more delicate impressions of human nature, so that the beauties of the outer, and
indeed inner, world are almost wasted upon them, and it becomes half sentimentalism to
imagine that their duller brains would be moved in the same manner as oTir own. Neverthe¬
less, we must not, on the other hand, believe this class of people to be utterly callous to
every tender tie, or indeed the ruder physical pleasures of external life. We ourselves have
seen a body of such beings melted to tears as the chaplain touched feelingly upon their separa¬
tion from their families ; and they would be little removed from polypes—mere living
stomachs—^if after nine long months' entombment, as it were, in separate cells, they did not
feel, upon going back into the world of light and colour, almost the same strange thrill
tingling through their veins as moved Lazarus himself when summoned by the trumpet-
tongue of Christ from out his very grave.
Some there are, however, who think and speak of these wretched men as very dogs—
creatures fit only, as one of our modem philosophers has preached, to be shot down and swept
into the dust-bin. But surely even he who has seen a dog, after it has been chained night and
day close to its kennel, and rendered dangerously furious by the continual chafing of its collar,
burst off with a spasmodic energy in every limb directly it was let loose, and go bounding
along and springing into the air, as it wheeled round and round, gasping and panting the
while, as if it could not sufi&ciently feel and taste the exquisite delight of its freedom—he
who, we say, has watched such a scene, must have possessed a nature as caUous even as
the wretched convicts themselves, could he have witnessed them pass out of those prison gates
into the outward world without feeling the hot tears stinging his eyes, and without uttering
in his heart a faint " God speed you."
How is it possible for you, or ourselves, reader, to make out to our imaginations the
terrors of separate confinement ? How can we, whose lives are blessed with continual liberty,
and upon whose will there is scarcely any restraint—^we, who can live among those we love,
and move where we list—we, to whom the wide world, with its infinite beauties of sunshine
and tint, and form, and air, and odour, and even soimd, are a perpetual fountain of health
and joy; how, we say, can we possibly comprehend what intense misery it is to be cut off
from aU such enjoyments—to have our lives hemmed in by fotir white bbgnV vraUs—to see no
faces but those of task-masters—to hear no voice but that of commanding officers—^to be
denied all exercise of will whatever—and to be converted into mere living automata,
forced to do the bidding of others ?
9'
128
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LOHDON.
If you have ever lain on a sick-hed, day after day and week after week, till you knew
every speck and tiny crack of the walls that surrounded you—^if you have seen the golden
lustre of the spring sun shining without, and heard the voices of the birds teUing their love
of liberty in a very spasm, as it were, of melody, and then felt the unquenchable thirst that
comes upon the soul to be out in the open air ; and if you remember the grateful joy you have
experienced at such times to have friends and relations near you to comfort and reKeve your
sufferings, not only by their love and care, but by reading to you the thoughts or fancies of the
wisest and kindest minds, then you may perhaps be able to appreciate the subtle agony that
must be endured by men in separate confinement—^men, too, who are perhaps the most self-
wüled of all God's creatures, and consequently likely to feel any restraint tenfold more irksome
than we ; and men whose untutored minds are incapable of knowing the charms of intellectual
culture or occupation; and who, therefore, can only fret and chafe under their terrible imprison¬
ment, even as the tameless hyaena may be seen at the beast-garden for ever fretting and
chafing in its cage.
Cleaning the Frison.—It was now only six o'clock, and as we returned from the
court-yard to the corridors, we heard the chief warder cry, "Unlock!" and instantly the
ofldcers attached to the different wards proceeded to pass rapidly from cell-door to cell-door,
with their keys in their hands, turning the locks as they went, and the noise resounding
throughout the long and echoing corridors like the click of so many musket-triggers. Then
the doors began to bang, and the metal pail-handles to jangle, till the very prison seemed
suddenly roused out of its silent sleep into busy life.
As we passed up and down the wards, we saw the prisoners in their flannel drawers come
to the door to take in their clothes, and the tub to wash their ceE ; and, on glancing in at
the doorway, we caught sight of the long, narrow hammock slimg across the cell, just above
the ground, and the dark frame of the loom showing at the back.
The next moment a stream of some dozen or two prisoners poured from the cells, carrying
their coats on their arms, and drew themselves up in two files across the centre corridor.
Then we heard the warder cry, "Cleaners, face !—Cooks, face !—^Bakers, face !" whereupon the
men wheeled round with almost military precision, and retired, some to wash the entrance
passages and offices, others to help in the kitchen, and others in the bakehouse.
By this time (ten minutes past six), the prison was aU alive, and humming like a hive
with the activity of its inmates. Some of the convicts, clad in their suits of mud-brown
cloth, were out in the long corridors sweeping the black asphalte pavement till it glistened
again as if polished with black-lead. Others, in the narrow galleries above, were on their
knees washing the flags of slate that now grew blue-black around .them with the water ;
others, again, in the centre corridor, were hearthstoning the steps, and making them as white
as slabs of biscuit-chma ; and others, too, in their cells, cleaning the floors and furniture
there. A warder stood watching the work on each of the little mid-air bridges that
connect the opposite storeys of every corridor, whilst other officers were distributed through¬
out the building, so as to command the best points for observing the movements of the
prisoners.
Our attendant led us to an elevated part of the building, so that we might have a bird's-
eye view of the scene ; and assuredly it was a strange sight to look down upon the long arcade¬
like corridors, that were now half-fogged with the cloud of dust rising from the sweepers'
brooms, and witness the bustle and life of that place, which on our entrance seemed as stiU as
so many cloisters ; while the commingling of the many different sounds—^the rattling of pails,
the ban^g of doors, the scouring of the stones, the rumbling of trucks, the tramping of feet
up the metal stairs, aU echoing through the long tunnels—added greatly to the peculiarity of
the scene.
" Ah, sir," said our attendant warder, " everything is done with great precision here ;
PENTONVILLE PEISOIf.
129
there's just so many minutes allowed for each part of the work. You will notice, sir, that
it will take from twelve minutes to a quarter of an hour to wash either side of the building ;
and directly the clock comes to twenty-five minutes past six, we shall begin to unlock the
opposite side of the corridors to that where the men are now at work—when a new set of
cleaners will comè out, and the present ones retire into their cells. This is done to prevent
communication, which would be almost sure to take place if the men worked on opposite
sides of the galleries at the same time. For the cleaning," continued our communicative
friend, " each gallery contributes five men to each side, or ten in all, and each ward gives one
man to the Centre corridor, and each corridor four men for sweeping below."
The officer now drew our attention to the fact that the hands of the clock were pointing
to the time he had mentioned, and that the men who had been at work along one side of
the galleries had all finished, and withdrawn. Then began the same succession of noises—
like the clicking, as we have said, of so many musket-triggers—indicating the unlocking
of the opposite cells ; and we could see, whence we stood, the officers hastening along
the corridors, unfastening each door, as they went, with greater rapidity than even
lamplighters travel from lamp to lamp along a street; and immediately afterwards we
beheld a fresh batch of cleaners come out into each gallery, and the sweepers below cross
over and begin working iinder them, whilst the same noises resoimded through the building
as before.
A few moments after this the big brass hand-bell clattered once more through the building.
This was the half-past six o'clock summons for the prisoners to commence work in their
cells, and soon afterwards we saw the " trade instructors" going round the several wards,
to see that the men had sufficient materials for their labour ; whilst, in a few minutes, the
lower wards echoed with the rattling of the looms, and we_could hear the prolonged tapping of
the shoemakers up above, hammering away at the leather, so that now the building assumed
the busy aspect of a large factory, giving forth the same half-bewüdering noise of work
and machinery.
The next part of the cleansing operations was the gathering the dust from the cells, and
this was performed as rapidly and dexterously as the other processes. A convict, carrying a
large wicker basket lined with tin (such as is ordinarily used for dinner plates), went before
one of the officers, who held a dust-pan in his hand, and as the warder rmlocked each cell-
door on his round, and thrust his pan within, the prisoner in the cell emptied the dust, which he
had ready collected, into the officer's pan, closing the door immediately afterwards, whilst the
convict bearing the basket stood a few paces in advance of the warder, so as to receive the
contents of his pan when filled. This process was performed more rapidly than it can be
told, and so quickly, indeed, that though we walked by the side of the officer, -y^e had
hardly to halt by the way, and as we went the corridor rang again with the twanging of the
prisoners' dust-pans, thrown, as they were emptied, one after another, out of their cells.
On our return from watching the last-mentioned operation, we found the corridors almost
empty again—the cleaners having finished their work, and retired to their cells, and the
bmlding being comparatively quiet. It was, however, but a temporary lull ; for a few
moments after, the seven o'clock beU rang, and this was the signal for " double-locking,"
whereupon the same trigger-like noise pervaded every part of the building.
"Each cell-door, you see, sir, is always on the single lock," said our guide; "but
before the warders go to breakfast (aud the last bell was the signal for their doing so), the
prisoners' doors and every outlet to the building is 'double-shotted' for the sake of security."
Scarcely had our attendant communicated the intelligence to us before the work was
done, and the warders came thronging to the spiral staircase, and went twisting round and
round, one after another, as they descended to their breakfast in the mess-room below.
*#* The Prmn Breakfast.—From seven to half-past the corridors of Pentonville Prison
130
THE GEEAT "WOELD OF LONDON.
are as deserted as Burlington Arcade on a Sunday, and nothing is heard the -while but the
clacking of the prisoners' looms, and the tapping of the convict-shoemakers' hammers, and
occasionally the sharp " ting-ng-ng!" of the gong iu connection-with the cells, for sum¬
moning the solitary warder left in attendance.
"If you like, sir, we wiU now go helow to the kitchen and bakehouse," said the officer,
who still remained at our side, " and see them preparing the breakfast for the prisoners."
Accordingly, we descended the spiral staircase into the basement ; and after traversing
sundry passages, we knew, by the peculiar smeU of bread pervading the place, that we had
entered the bakery. There was but little distinctive about this part of the prison ; for we
found the samo heap of dusty white-looking sacks, and the same lot of men, -with the flour,
like hair-powder, clinging to their eyebrows and whiskers (four of these were prisoners, and
the other a free man—" the master baker " placed over them), as usually characterises such
a place. It was, however, inflnitely cleaner than aU ordinary bakehouses ; neither were the
men slip-shod and -without stockings, nor had they the appearance of walking plaster-casts,
like the generality of journeymen bakers when at work. Here we leamt that the bread of the
prison was unfermented, owing to the impossibility of working " the sponge " there during
the night ; and of course we were invited to taste a bit. It was really what would have
been considered " cake " in some continental states ; indeed, a German servant, to whom
we gave a piece of the prison loaf, was absolutely amazed at the English prodigality, and
crying, " Wunder-schön!" assured us that the "König von Preussen" himself hardly ate better
stuff.
From the bakery we passed to the kitchen, where the floor was Hke a newly-cleaned
bird-cage, with its layer of fresh sand that cnmched, as garden walks are wont to do, beneath
the feet. Here was a strong odour of the steaming cocoa that one of the assistant cooks (a
prisoner) was busy serving, out of huge bright coppers, into large tin pails, like milk-cans.
The master cook was in the ordinary white jacket and cap, and the assistants had white
aprons over their bro-wn con-vdct trowsers, so that it would have been hard to have told that
any were prisoners there.
The allowance for breakfast " is ten ounces of bread," said the master cook to us, " and
three-quarters of a pint of cocoa, made -with three-quarters of an ounce of the solid flake, and
flavoured -with two ounces of pure milk and six drachms of molasses. Please to taste a little
of the cocoa, sir. It's such as you'd find it difficult to get outside, I can assure you ; for
the berries are ground on the premises by the steam-engine, and so we can vouch for its
being perfectly pure."
It struck us as strange evidence of the " civilization " of our time, that a person must—
in these days of "lie-tea," and chicory-mocha, and alumed bread, and brain-thickened milk,
and watered butter—really go to prison to live upon unadulterated food. The best porter
we ever drank was at a parish union—^for the British pauper alone can enjoy the decoction of
veritable malt and hops ; and certainly the most genuine cocoa we ever sipped was at this
same Model Prison, for not only was it made of the -unsophisticated berries, but -with the
very purest water, too—^water, not of the slushy Thames, but which had been raised from an
artesian well several hundred feet below the surface, expressly for the use of these same
convicts.
"For dinner," continued the cook, "the rations are—^half a pint of good soup, four
ounces of meat every day—beef and mutton alternately—without bone, and which is equal
to about half a pound of uncooked meat -with an ordinary quantity of bone ; besides this
there are five ounces of bread and one pound of potatoes for each man, except those working
in association, who have two pounds. For supper every prisoner gets a pint of gruel, made
•with an oimce and a half of meal, and sweetened with six drachms of molasses, together
-with five more ounces of bread, so that each convict has twenty ounces of bread throughout
the day.
PEITTONVILLE PEISOîi.
131
"Yonder are some of the ten-ounce loaves, that are just going to be served out for break¬
fast," added the cook ; and, as he said the words, he pointed to a slab of miniature half-
quarterns, that looked not unlike a block of small paving-stones cemented together. "Any¬
thing additional," continued the cook, " is ordered by the medical officer. There you see,
sir,'that free man yonder has just brought in some extras; they're for a prisoner in the
infirmary. It's two ounces of butter, you observe, and an egg.
"Yes, sir, that's my slate," added the man, as he saw us looking up at a long black
board that was nailed against the wall in the serving-room, and inscribed with the letters
and figures of the several wards of the prison, together with various hieroglyphics that
needed the cook himself to interpret. " On that board I chalk up," he proceeded, " the
number of prisoners in each ward, so as to know what rations I have to serve. The letter
K there, underneath the figures, signifies that one man out of that particular ward is at
work in the kitchen, and B, that one prisoner is employed in the bakehouse. That mark
up there stands for an extra loaf to be sent up to the ward it's placed under, and these dots
here for two extra meats ; whilst yonder sign is to tell me that there is one man out of that
part of the building gone into the infirmaiy. Yes, sir, we let the infirmary prisoners have
just whatever the medical officer pleases to order—jeUy, or fish, or indeed chicken if
required."
"We then inquired what was the diet for men under punishment.
""Why, sir," answered the cook, "the punishment allowance is sixteen ounces of bread
per diem, and nothing else except water. You see I am just going to cut up the rations for
the three prisoners in the refractory wards to-day ; and so I take one of these twenty-ounce
loaves, and cut it into three, and let the prisoner have the benefit of the trifling excess, for
six oulltes for breakfast, five for dinner, and five for supper, is aU he's entitled to."
"How much," said we, " will a prisoner lose in weight upon such diet ?"
" Why, I have known men to come out as much as four or five pounds lighter after three
days of it, ' ' replied the cook ; " but there's a register book upstairs that will tell you exactly, sir.*
"When a man is under long punishment," continued the cook, " for instance, when he has
got twenty-eight days, he has full rations every fourth day, and is then foimd to gain flesh
upon the food."
" I have known some prisoners come out as much as three poimds lighter than when they
were first locked up," chimed in the warder; " though it depends mainly upon the temper
* "We were afterwards favoured with a sight of the above-named .register, from which we made the
following extracts as to the weights of the men before being placed upon punishment diet, and at the expira¬
tion of the sentence :—
Ilegistered Number of
Prisoners placed in Weight of Prisoner. Weight of Prisoner. Number of Days Average Loss of
dark cell on on going in. on coming out. under Punishment. Weight per Diem.
Punishment Diet.
6,216 9 St. 2 lbs. 8 st. 13 lbs. 3 days. lib.
6,257 9 St. 2 lbs. 8 st. 11 lbs. 2 „ 2èlbs.
6,419 12 St. list. 11 lbs. 1 „ 3 lbs.
6,257 9 St. Not yet out of dark ecll. 6 „
The above table indicates that the main loss of weight occurs upon the first day—the severity of the
punishment doubtlessly affecting the body through the mind less intensely after the first twenty-four hours.
"We, at the same time, were allowed to inspect the sick report for the day of our visit, appended to which
were the following recommendations of the medical ofBcer :—
" 6,144, A I, 15, to have one pint of arrowroot and five ounces of bread for dinner per diem, and to keen
ceU. ^
" 6,277, D I, 23, to have cocoa for supper instead of gruel.
" 6,076, A III, 27, to go to the mfirmary."
Others were to be off trade, othefs to keep their cell. " If the doctor suspects a man to be scheming,"
whispered the warder to us, as we glanced over the sick report, " he puts him on low diet ; and that soon brings
him to, especially when he's kept off his meat and potatoes."
132
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
of the men, for if they fret much over their punishment they lose the more in weight; and
we know by that whether the punishment has worked upon them or not."
"Yes, sir," said the cook, "there are few persons that can hold out against short
commons ; the beUy can tame every man. How there's that man in A 3, he declared that
no mortal thing should pass his lips, and that he meant to starve himself to death ; that
was the day before yesterday, but last night he was forced to give in, and take his gruel.
Ah, sir, it takes stronger-minded men than they are to hold out against the cravings of the
stomach. Just dock a prisoner's food, and it hurts him more than any ' cat' that could be
laid across his back."
It was nearly half-past seven, and the warders were beginning to ascend the spiral stair¬
case from below, and the corridors to rumble with the rolling of the trucks along the
pavement, and that of the "food-carriages" along the tops of the gallery railings, in prepa¬
ration for the serving of the prisoners' breakfast.
At the time of our visit there were nearly three hundred and seventy convicts in the
prison, and the warder had told us that the rations were distributed to the whole of these
men in about eight minutes. We had seen sufficient of the admirable regulations of this
prison to satisfy us that if the enormous building could be cleansed from end to end, and that
in a manner surpassing all private establishments, in little more than half an hour, it was
quite possible to accomplish the distribution of nearly four himdred breakfasts in less than
ten minutes. Still we could not help wondering by what division of labour the task was
to be achieved, especially when it is remembered that each of the four corridors is as long
as an arcade, and as high as the nave of a large church, having double galleries one above
the other.
While we were speculating as to the process, the brass hand-beU was rung on« more,
to annormce that the prisoners' breakfast hour (half-past seven) had arrived ; and the beU
had scarcely ceased pealing before the two oaken flaps let into the black asphalte pavement at
the comers of the central hall, so that each stood between two of the four corridors, raised
themselves as if by magic, and there ascended from below, through either flap, a tray laden
with four large cans of cocoa, and two baskets of bread. These trays were raised by means
of a " lifting machine," the bright iron rods of which stretched from the bottom to the top of
the building, and served as guides for the friction-rollers of the trays. Ho sooner were the
cans and bread-baskets brought up from below, than a couple of warders and trade instmctors,
two to either of the adjoining corridors, seized each half the quantity, and placing it on the
tracks that stood ready by the flaps, away the warder and instructor went, the one wheeling
the barrow of cocoa along the side of the corridor, and the other hastening to open the small
trap in each cell-door as he served the men with the bread.
This is done almost as rapidly as walking, for no sooner does the trade-instructor apply
his key to the ceU-door than the little trap faUs down and forms a kind of ledge, on
which the officer may place the loaf, and the prisoner at the same time deposit his mug for
the cocoa. This mug the warder who wheels the cocoa truck fills with the beverage, ladling
it out as milkmen do the contents of thefr pails, and, when full, he thrusts the mug back
through the aperture in the cell-door, and closes the trap with a slam.
The process goes on in each ground-floor of the four corridors at one and the same time,
and scarcely has it commenced before the bell of the lifting apparatus tinkles, and the
emptied tray descends and brings up another load of steaming cans and bread. But these are
now carried up to the galleries of the first floor, and there being received by the warders as
before, the contents are placed upon the food-carriages, which are not unlike the smaU
vehicles on tram-roads, and reach from side to side of each arcade, tíie top of the iron
balcony to the galleries serving as rails for the carriage wheels to travel along.
The distribution here goes on in the same rapid manner as below, and while this is taking
place the lifting bell tinkles again, and the trays having descended once more, up they
THE CHAPEL, ON THE " SEPARATE SYSTEM," IN PENTONVILLE PRISON, DURING DIVINE SERVICE.
PENTONYILLE PEISOE".
135
come a third time laden with a fresh supply of food, which now mounts to the upper floor,
and being there received in the same manner as previously, is immediately distributed by
means of the same kind of food-carriages throughout the upper ward.
The sound of the rumbling of the trucks and food-carriages as the wheels travel along
the pavement and the rails, the tinkling of the bell of the lifting apparatus, and the rapid
succession of reports made by the slamming of the traps of the 360 cell-doors, are all neces¬
sary in order to give the reader a vivid sense of the rapidity of the distribution—which is
assuredly about as curious and busy a process as one can well witness, every portion of the
duty being conducted with such ease, and yet with such marvellous despatch, that there is
hardly a finer instance of the feats that can be accomplished by the division of labour than
this same serving of nearly 400 breakfasts in less than ten minutes.
The Refractory Wards ardRrism Punishments.—A few moments after the above busy
scene has come to an end, the prison is as still and quiet as the City on the Sabbath. The
warders have nearly all gone below to " clean themselves," the looms have ceased clacking, and
the shoemakers tapping, and even the gong in connection with the cells is no longer heard
to sound in the corridors. For a time one would fancy the whole prison was asleep again.
Presently, however, the glass doors at the end of the passage are thrown open, and the
governor enters with his keys in his hand. Then one of the warders who remains on duty
hurries on before him, crying, " Govemor-r-r ! Govemor-r-r ! Governor-r-r !" as he opens
each of the ceU-doors. The chief prison authority walks past the several cells, saying,
as he goes, " AU right !—aU right !" to each prisoner, who stands ready drawn up at the
door, as stiff as a soldier in his sentry-box, with his hand raised, by way of salute, to the
side of his cap ; whilst no sooner have the words been spoken than the door is closed again,
and the building echoes with the concussion.
This done, the governor proceeds to visit the refractory ceUs ; but before accompanying
him thither, let us prepare the reader with an idea of the nature of such places.
The refractory, or, as they are sometimes caUed, " dark ceUs," are situate in the basement
of corridor C. It was mid-day when we first visited these apartments at PentonviUe.
"Light a lantern, "Wood," said the chief warder to one of the subordinate officers, " so
that this gentleman may look at the dark ceUs."
The lamp lighted at noon gave us a notion of what we were to expect, and yet it was a
poor conception of what we saw.
Descending a smaU flight of stairs, we came to a narrow passage, hardly as wide as the
area before second-rate houses ; and here was a line of black doors, not unlike the entrances
to the front cellars of such houses. These were the refractory ceUs.
The officer who accompanied us threw back one of the doors, which turned as heavily on
its hinges, and gave forth the same hoUow sound, as the massive door of an iron safe. The
interior which it revealed was absolutely and literaUy "pitch dark." Hot a thing was visible
in the ceU ; and so utterly black did it look within, that we could not believe but that there
was another door between us and the interior. The officer, however, introduced his lantern,
and then we could see the rays diverging from the buU's-eye, and streaking the darkness
with a bright, luminous mist, as we have aU seen a sunbeam stripe the dusky atmosphere of
some cathedral. The light from the lantern fell in a bright, Jack-a-dandy-like patch upon the
white walls, and we then discovered, as the warder flickered the rays into the several comers of
the «hamber, that the refractory cell was about the size of the other ceUs in which the men
lived, but that it was utterly bare of aU furniture, excepting, in one corner, a smaU raised
bench, with a sloping head-piece, that was like a wooden mattress, placed upon the ground.
This, we were told, was, with a mg for covering, the only bed aUowed.
" "Would you hke to step inside," asked the warder, " and see how dark it is when the
door is closed?"
136
THÏ) GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
We entered the terrible place with a shudder, for there is something intensely horrible
in absolute darkness to all minds, confess it or not as they may j and as the warder shut the
door upon us—and we felt the cell walls shake and moan again, like a tomb, as he did so
—the utter darkness was, as Milton sublimely says—"visible" The eyes not only saw, but
felt the absolute negation of their sense in such a place. Let them strain their utmost, not
one luminous chink or crack could the sight detect. Indeed, the very air seemed as imper¬
vious to vision as so much black marble, and the body seemed to be positively encompassed
with the blackness, as if it were buried alive, deep down in the earth itself. Though we
remained several minutes in the hope that we should shortly gain the use of our eyes, and
begin to make out, in the thick dusk, bit after bit of the apartment, the darkness was at the
end of the time quite as impenetrable as at first, so that the continual straining of the eye¬
balls, and taxing of the brains, in order to get them to do their wonted duty, soon produced
a sense of mental fatigue, that we coidd readily understand would end in conjuring up aU
kinds of terrible apparitions to the mind.
" Have you had enough, sir ?" inquired the warder to us, as he re-opened the door, and
whisked the light of his lantern in our eyes.
An owl, suddenly roused from its sleep in the daylight, could not have been more dazzled
and bewildered with the glitter of the rays than we. The light was now as blinding to us
as had been the darkness itself, and such was the dilatation of the pupils that we had to rub
our eyes, hke one newly waked from sleep, before we eould distinguish anything on leaving
the place ; and when we mounted the steps and entered the corridor once more, the air had
the same blue tint to us as that of early morning.
"Well, sir, I think," said the warder, in answer to our question as to how many intraet-
ables the prison eontained, " we have altogether about three or four per cent, of refractory
people here, and they are mostly the boys and second probation men, as we caE them.
Separate confinement in Pentonville Prison for nine months now constitutes the first or
probationary stage to the convict ; and then he is transferred to the public works, either at
Woolwich, or Portsmouth, or Portland, as the case may be, which forms the second stage.
But if the man won't conform to discipline at the public works, why then he is sent back
to us again, and such people constitute what we call ' second probation men.' Some of
them are very difficult to deal with, I can assure you, sir. The Glasgow boys in the prison
are perhaps the worst class of aU. I can hardly say what is the reason of fheir being so bad.
I don't think it is the lax discipline of the Glasgow prison ; but the race, you see, is half
Scotch and half Irish, and that is a very bad mixture, to my mind. On the other hand, the
sheep-stealers and the convicts who have been farm-labourers are about the easiest managed
of aU the prisoners here. Then, what we eaU the first-class men, such as those who have
been well educated, like the clerks, and forgers, and embezzlers, and so forth, give us Uttle or
no trouble ; and, generaUy speaking, the old jail-birds faU into the discipline very weU, for
they know it is no use knocking their head against the waU. The boys, however, who come
here for the first time, are sad, troublesome feUows, and wiU stand an awfiil deal of punish¬
ment surely before their temper is broke."
We had visited the dark ceUs at six o'clock in the morning of the day which we spent
within the prison. At that time there were four prisoners confined in the refiuctory ward,
and we found a boy, with an officer in attendance, turned out into the passage to wash
himself at the sink, and to fold up the rug he had to cover himself with during the night. He
had been sentenced to one day's confinement in the dark ceU, we were told, for communicating
in chapel.
" Any complaint?" said the warder. "None," was the brief reply. Then the buU's-
eye was thrust into the ceU, and the light flirted through every part of the chamber so as to
show whether or not any depredations had been committed. The boy gave txs a suUen look
PENTOÎTVILLE PßlSOIT.
137
as we passed by bim, and the warder told us, while we mounted the steps, that when the lad
had fiudshed washing, another prisoner would be let out to perform the same operation.
Some hour and a half after this, during the governor's morning visit, we went once
more to the same place. The officer, who preceded the governor, threw open the doors one
hy one, crying, "Govemor-r-r ! " as before, and the prisoners stood drawn up at the cell-
doors as the others had done.
"Please to release me, sir," said the first under punishment, " and I'll promise you I
won't do so again."
"We never remit any punishment here," was the governor's brief answer; and imme¬
diately the door of the dark cell was closed upon the prisoner once more.
The second man had a less dogged and surly expression, and the governor exclaimed, as
his quick eye detected the signs of yielding temper in his face, " Oh ! you're coming to your
senses are you ? "Well, I am glad to hear it ; and you'll be more careful for the future."
The last but one under confinement was " a bad fellow," the governor told us, and was in
for six days ; whilst the last of aU had been sent back from the works at Portland as incor¬
rigible. These two were merely inspected, and asked whether all was right ; but not a
word was spoken in return by the men, who looked the very picture of bitter suUenness. So
the heavy doors closed upon them, and the wretched creatures were again shut up in their
living tombs.
" Ah ! sir," said one of the warders to us, at a later part of the day, " some of the convicts
are ver¡/ difficult to deal with. I remember once we had forty of the worst fellows sent to
us here—the forty thieves we used to call them. They were men who had gone the round
of the public prisons and the " hulks," and some of them had heen sent back, before their
sentences expired, fi-om the public works at Gibraltar. "When they came in, the governor
was told that one of the men, who was in chains, was so dangerous that it wouldn't he safe to
allow him anything but a wooden spoon to eat with. "Well, sir, the governor spoke to them
all, and said if they would only obey orders they should he treated like other men ; but if they
would not conform to discipline, why he was prepared to compel them. So he made no more
ado but ordered the irons to be took off the most dangerous of them ; and sure enough that man
became quite an altered character. However, we didn't like having such people here, I
can teU you; for we always expected an attempt would he made to break prison by the lot
of them all at once; and whenever many of them were brought together (as in the chapel,
for instance), a sufficient number of officers was kept under arms, within call, ready to act
in case of need. But, thank goodness, all went well, and the greater part of those very men
not only left here with good characters, but merely a few of them had to be punished. But
another prisoner, not of the same gang, but a returned convict who had been in Horfolk
Island, was much more difficult to manage than even these ; and I remember, after he hg^
been confined in the refractory cell, he swore, on being let out, that he would murder any
man who attempted to come down to him there. He had made a spring at the officer near
him, and would assuredly have bitten his nose off had the warder not retreated up the stairs,
so that the man was down helow all alone, vowing and declaring he would have the life of
the first person that tried to get him up. "Well, you see, we knew we could master him
directly we had him in the corridor ; but as we couldn't take his life, and he could oitrs, he
was more than a match for us down in the refractory ward. Accordingly the governor had to
devise some means hy which to get him up stairs without hurting him—and how d'ye fhmk
he did it, sir ? "Why, he got some cayenne pepper and burnt it in a fumigating bellows, and
then blew the smoke down into the ward where the feUow was. The man stood it for some
time; hut, bless you, he was soon glad to surrender, for, as we sent in puff after puff, it set
him coughing and sneezing, and rubbing his eyes, and stamping with the pain, as the fumes
got not only into his throat and up his nose, but under his eyelids, and made them smart,
till the tears ran down his cheeks as if he had been a little child. Then immediately after-
138
THE GREAT WORLD CP LONDOH.
wiu'ds we threw ourselves upon him, and effectually secured him against doing any further
harm. Oh ! no, sir," added the officer, with a smile and a knowing shake of the head, " he
never tried the same game on after that; one dose of cayenne pepper smoke was quite
enough for him, I can assure you.
" When we first came here," continued our informant, " we used to have some weapons
to prevent a prisoner from injuring any of us in his cell ; for, you see, we are obliged to
allow the convicts knives and hammers when they are employed as shoemakers, so that they
may do their work in their cells. Well, some one or other of the prisoners used occasionally
to get furious, and swear that they would stick us with their knives or knock our brains
out with their hammers if we dared to come near them, and we could see by their expres¬
sions that they meant it too. But how do you think we used to do in such cases ? Why,
one of us used to put on a large shield that was made of basket-work, well stuffed and
covered with leather, and almost big enough to screen a person's whole body behind it; and
when the officer saw a good opportunity, he would suddenly rush into the cell, thrusting tlie
shield right in front of the prisoner, and whilst the fellow was taken aback with this, another
officer would dart in, holding a long pole with a large padded crutch like an enormous pitch¬
fork at the end of it ; and thrusting this at the upper part of the prisoner's body, he would
pinion him right up against the wall. No sooner, too, would this he done than another
officer, bearing a similar crutch, but somewhat smaller, would make a drive at the fellow's
legs, and pin these in a like manner ; whilst immediately that was accomplished, the other
warders would pour in and overpower the man. We have, however, now done away with
all such things, for we find that if a convict is rebellious he is much sooner brought to
himself by putting him on low diet than by all the fetters in the world. Only stop his meat
and potatoes, as the cook said to you this morning, sir, and he'U soon give in, I warrant."
Later in the day we were present when two prisoners, who had been reported for refrac¬
tory conduct, were brought in for examination before the governor in his office. The report-
book lay upon the table, and the governor pointed out to us that the offence of the one was
refusal to wash the slates and go to chapel, and that of the other wilful disturbance of the
congregation in the chapel by clapping his hands.
The former of these had been liberated from the dark cell only that morning. He was,
comparatively speaking, a mere hoy, and entered the governor's office in a determined
manner. But seeing us there he became frightened, mistaking us, we were told, for some
awful government authority. So when the governor asked him what he had to say, and
whether he admitted the charge, he nodded his head sullenly in assent, and was immediately
marched off to the dark cell once more.
The next offender was the church-disturber. He was one_ of the Glasgow hoys of
whom we have before spoken, and had been sent hack to PentonviUe from Parkhurst. He
had ah'eady been punished fom- times before. His face, which was almost flat and broad,
was remarkable for the extreme self-will depicted in him, and he had that peculiar thick hull-
neck which is so characteristic of stuhhoimness of temper.
On being asked what he had to say, he stoutly denied the charge, declaring that it was all
false, and that the officer had a spite against him. " Then," said the governor, " let the officer
state his case." The warder stepped forward and declared that, dming prayers that morning,
the hoy had clapped his hands loudly at the end of the service. The officer said he was sure
it was the prisoner, because the lad stood upon a stool in the chapel, being short, and he
had his eyes fixed upon him while he committed the offence.
"Well," said the governor, " what have you to say now?"
" I say it aint true," muttered the hoy, shaking his head, and frowning with a deter¬
mined air.
" Take him away to the dark cell," said the governor ; and he proceeded to write in the
book that his punishment was to he three days' confinement in the refractory ward upon
PEIÍTONVILLE PEISOK.
139
punishment diet, mth loss of stripe and removal from the A division, which is the part of
the prison occupied by the convicts who are permitted to work in partial association after
having passed nine months in separation.
" You see," said the governor, turning to us when the boy had left, " I am obliged to
support my officers."*
But if there be punishments at PentonviUe, there are, on the other hand, rewards ; and
many of the penal inflictions for breaches of discipline and riotous conduct consist merely in
the withdrawal of the premiums given for good behaviour. " Do you flnd," said we, some
tÎTTiR back to one of the turnkeys of another prison (Newgate), as he walked with us through
the ancient "press-yard"—where formerly prisoners who had refused to plead at the bar,
in order to save their property, suffered the "peine forte et dure," or, in other words, were
" pressed to death "—" Do you find," we asked, " that you have the inmates of the jail under
the same control now as in the days of ' thumb-screws,' and ' gags,' and brandings ?"
" I think we have greater power over them, sir," was the answer ; " for at present, you
see, we cut off the right of receiving and sending letters, as well as stop the visits of their
friends ; and a man feels those things much more than any torture that he could be put to."
The prison authorities now-a-days, therefore, have learnt that negative punishments are
far more effective ikm. positive ones. But as these same negative punishments consist merely
of the deprivation of certain privileges or enjoyments, rather than the infliction of actual
cruelties, it is essential that the granting of such privileges, as rewards for good conduct,
should form part of the modem prison discipline.
Accordingly, in PentonviUe Prison, as we have already seen, one part of the punishment
consists in the reduction of the ordinary diet to bread and water ; whilst anpther form of
punishment, to which we have before alluded, is the loss of the red stripe or stripes decorating
• The following is an epitome of the punishments in this prison for one entire year
LIST OP PUNISHMENTS IN PENTONTILLB PRISON DURING 1854.
No. of Prisoners
No. of Times
No. of
No. of Prisoners
No. of Times
No. of
Punished.
Punished.
Punishments.
P.miahed.
Punished.
Punishments
158 .
Once
. 158
1
11 times
11
43
Twice
86
2
. 12
»,
24
24 .
Thrice
72
1
. 14
J,
14
13 .
4 times
52
1
. 16
»
16
7
■ Ö „
35
1
. 17
,,
17
4
. 6 „
24
1
. 23
,,
23
4
■ 7 „
28
1
. 24
,,
24
1
. 8 „
8
■
1
9 ,,
9
263
601
The offences for whicli the prisoners were punished wore as under ;—
149 were for disobedience (such as refusing to work or attend school or exercise) ; 83 for disturbing
prison by shouting, whistling, or singing obscene and other songs ; 102 for misconduct in school, such as
talking, whistling, &c. ; 33 for obscene communications or drawings (on books and chapcl-stalls) ; 33 for
misconduct in chapel during service; 171 for communicating with felloiv-prisoners (either by writing, talking
at exercise, or by knocking on cell-walls or through water-pipes) ; 2 for trying to send letters out of prison ;
64 for wilfully destroying prison property; 25 for boring holes in cell-window, &c.; 9 for assaulting
officers ; 29 for using bad language to officers, &c. ; 5 for false charges against officers ; 30 for fighting and
wrangling with fellow-prisoners in association ; 9 for attempting to escape ; 3 for proposing to other prisoners
to escape; 4 for feigning suicide ; 3 for threatening to commit ditto ; 4 for dirty cells ; 22 for purloining bread,
meat, &c. ; 14 for having tobacco, &c., in possession.
The nature of the punishments for the above offences was as follows :—
634 were confined to the dark cell (292 of these with punishment diet, and 244 with ordinary diet 18 with
loss of stripes, and 10 with loss of one stripe) ; 40 of these 534 were so confined for one day, 236 for two days,
249 for three days, 4 between five and ten days, and 4 between ten and twenty-one days. 11 were confined
to the light cell (9 with punishment diet, and 2 with ordinary diet). 26 were confined to their own cell (19
with ordinary diet, and 7 with their secular books withdrawn). IS were withdrawn from working in asso¬
ciation, and 7 from school. 1 sufiered corporal punishment (36 lashes) ; and 4 were removed from the
working party in A division.
140
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
tlie arm of those who have conducted themselves well during the first six months of their
incarceration.*
Nor is this badge of good conduct a mere honorary distinction, for those who have obtained
it become entitled to receive a certain gratuity for their labour, according to the quantity of
work done ; and only the best behaved among these are removed from separate confinement
in the day, and allowed to work in association—a privilege, moreover, which entitles them
to an extra pound of potatoes at dinner.
At the time of our visit, there was about 8 per cent, of the prisoners (or 29 in 368)
working together; and so highly is this indulgence prized, that it becomes one of the severest
inflictions to send an associated man back to separate confinement.
Again, only well-conducted prisoners are allowed to receive a visit from their friends.f
• The following are the official rules and reg\ilation8 concerning good and bad conduct, a copy of which
is suspended in each cell :—
" notice to convicts undeb sentence op transportation and penal servitude.
" Transportation for certain offences having been abolished by Act of Parliament, and certain periods of
imprisonment of much shorter duration, under the term " penal servitude," having been substituted in place
of the sentences of seven and ten years' transportation, which had been usually awarded, no remission, as a
general rule, of any part of the term of penal servitude will be granted ; the period of detention, in place of
a longer sentence of transportation, having been settled by law. The Secretary of State will, however, ho
prepared to consider any case of any convict whose conduct may be the subject of special recommendation.
The Secretary of State is also desirous, as a general rule, of holding out encouragement to good conduct by
establishing successive stages of discipline, to each of which some special privileges will be attached. Con¬
victs of good conduct, maintaining a character for willing industry, will by this rule he enabled, after certain
fixed periods, to obtain the higher stages, and gain the privileges attached to them.
" For the present, and until further orders, the following rules will be observed :—
" All convicts under sentence of penal servitude will be subjected to a period of separate confinement,
followed by labour on public works.
" Convicts under sentence of transportation will be subject to the same discipline so long as they are
imprisoned in this country.
"separate confinement.
" 1. Convicts, as a general rule, will be detained in separate confinement for a period of nine months
from the date of their reception in a government prison.
" 2. Every convict who, during a detention of six months in the prison, may have conducted himself in a
satisfactory manner, will be allowed to wear a badge, which will entitle him to receive a visit from his friends.
A second badge, with the privilege of a second visit, wUl be granted at the end of three additional months,
provided his conduct has continued to be satisfactory,
" 3. Convicts wearing badges will be recommended for gratuities to he placed to their credit, according to
the scale approved by the Secretary of State.
" 4. In the event of a convict being deprived of a badge through misconduct, he will, at the same time,
forfeit all advantages he had derived from it, including the gratuity already credited to him (if so ordered).
He may, however, regain the forfeited badge after an interval of two months if specially recommended by the
Governor and Chaplain.
" 5. On removal of convicts from separate confinement to public works, they wUl he placed in the first,
second, or third class, according to their conduct, attention to instruction, and industry. This classification
will affect their position in the following stages of their servitude.
" 6. Convicts deemed to he incorrigible, will be specially dealt with."
t The subjoined are the regulations respecting such visits :—
" The prisoner has leave to receive one visit from his friends, provided—
" 1st. If the visit is made within one month,
" 2nd. If the prisoner is well behaved in the mean time ;^hadly behaved prisoners are not allowed to see
friends when they come.
" 3rd. The visit to last only fifteen minutes,
" 4th, Visitors admitted only between the hours of 2 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon,
" öth. No visit allowed on Sundays.
" 6th. Such of the above-named friends as wish to visit, must all attend at the same time, and produce this
order '
PENTONVILLE PRISOîf.
141
Fartlier, another curious privilege granted to well-conducted prisoners in Pentonville, is
the liberty of labouring; for so terrible is separate confinement found to be, without
occupation, that one of the forms of punishment peculiar to this prison is the stoppage of
a man's work, and forcing him to remain in his own cell in a state of idleness throughout
the day.
What high penal refinement is here shown, in making the feeUngs of monotony and vacuity
of mind so keen a pain to the erratic natures of criminals (ever bent as they are upon
change and amusement) that, though the convicts be remarkable for their innate aversion to
labour outside the prison walls, the deprivation of work within them becomes a means
of discipline to such characters !
*#* Exercking and Sealth of the Prisoners.—At eight o'clock in the morning the " Model
Prison" is noisier and fuller of life and bustle than ever, and the transition from the silence
dming breakfast-time to the sudden outpouring of the convicts is a strongly-marked feature
of the place.
No sooner does the clock point to the hour above mentioned, than the bell for morning
prayers in the chapel is heard booming and humming overhead throughout the resonant
arcades, and instantly the cell-doors are successively thrown open, and the brown-clad
prisoners stream forth from every part of the building ; above, below, on this side, and on
that, lines of convicts come hurrying along the corridors and galleries at a rapid pace, one
after the other, and each at the distance of some four or five yards apart, while the warders,
who stand by, watching their movements, keep crying to the men as they pass, " Now, step
out there, will you—step out!"
This is accompanied with a noise and clatter that is as bewildering as the sight—the
tramping of the feet, the rattling of the iron staircases by the bridges as the prisoners pass up
and down them, the slamming of the cell-doors, and the tolling of the bell overhead—all keep
up such an incessant commotion in the brain that the mind becomes half-distracted with what
it sees and hears. Nor does the tumult cease in a second or two, for as it takes some seven
or eight minutes to empty the prison when full, the lines of convicts streaming along from
all parts of the building seem to be endless, and impress you with the idea of the number
being positively infinite.
Moreover, each of the prisoners is not only clad alike—and brown as so many bees pour¬
ing from the countless cells of a hive—but every one wears a peculiar brown cloth cap, and
the peak of this (which is also of cloth) hangs so low down as to cover the face like a mask,
the eyes alone of the individual appearing through the two holes cut in the front, and seem¬
ing almost like phosphoric lights shining through the sockets of a skull. This gives to the
prisoners a half-spectral look, and though they have hardly the same hideous appearance as
the diver at the Polytechnic, with his big hydrocephalous head and glass-window eyes,
nevertheless the costume of the men seems like the outward vestment to some wandering soul
rather than that of a human being ; for the eyes, glistening through the apertures in the mask,
give one the notion of a spirit peeping out behind it, so that there is something positively
terrible in the idea that these are men whose crimes have caused their very features to be
hidden from the world. It is strange, too, how different the convicts look under such
circumstances from the ordinary coarse-featured men seen in the chapel ; for at Pentonville the
screening of the faces gives a kind of tragic solemnity to the figures, and thus there appears
to be nothing vulgar nor brutal about them.
"We are here speaking of first impressions only, for after a time, when the spectral senti¬
ment has worn off, the imposition of these same masks—though originally designed, it must
be confessed, with every kindness and consideration to the prisoners, in order that their faces
might not he seen in their shame—cannot but be regarded as a piece of wretched frippery,
and as idle in use as they are theatrical in character ; for the men at " the Model" being all
10
142
THE GEEÁT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
destined either for transportation abroad, or for labour at the public works at borne, where
no such masquerading is indulged in, it becomes positively silly to impose such a costume
on the prisoners as a means of preventing recognition in after Hfe, since all such restraints
are removed during the latter part of their punishment.*
At the same hour as that for morning service, exercise begins in the " rope-walk," as it
is called, and two divisions of the men, who then come pouring forth from their cells, are led
off for airing into a spacious yard, while the other two divisions are sent into the chapel—
the prisoners from B and D corridors being at exercise while those from A and C are at
prayers, so that the prison at this hour is emptied of all hut such as may he invalided at the
time.
Let us follow the men to their exercise now, and reserve the scene in the chapel for
future description.
At Pentonville there are five exercising yards, and it will be seen, on reference to the
bird's-eye view of the prison given at page 116, that the two larger yards, which are for
exercising in common, and called the " rope-yards," are situate on either side of the long
entrance hall leading from the portcullis porch, and marked by a series of concentric rings,
whilst the three others (which are for exercising apart) lie between the several corridors,
and are wheel-shaped, the several radii, or spokes, consisting of walls or partitions, to
separate the men walking there one from the other, and the centre serving as a small
" argus," or station, for a warder, 'whence to survey the whole of the prisoners at one
glance. These exercisiag yards are numbered in rotation, that on the left-hand side of the
entrance hall hemg called Ho. 1, and that on the right-hand side Ho. 5, and the smaller
private yards styled Ho. 2, 3, and 4, respectively.
The men who were put to exercise at the hour above mentioned, turned out into yard
Ho. 1 ; and as they descended a small flight of steps a warder standing there cried out, " Left !"
" Right !" according to the appointed station of the convicts. The concentric rings here con¬
sisted of a narrow line of bricken paving let into the soü, and on this lay a long rope knotted
at distances of fifteen feet apart. Here the prisoners took up their station, one at eveiy
knot, all with masks down, and with a warder to watch over each of the circles of men at
exercise, so as to prevent all communication between them individually.
"When the whole of the men were assembled in the yard, and each at their different,
stations, holding the rope in their hands, the principal warder cried in a loud voice,
" Forwar-r-r-d ! " and instantly the whole of the 130 convicts there began to wheel round
and round, and to move along at the same rapid pace as if they were so many circles of
lamp-lighters.
There was a sharp easterly wind blowing on the morning of our visit that stung the skin
and fiooded the eyes, as it swept by, and made one reaUy envy the brisk movements of
the prisoners. " How, move on, will you—come, move on ! " one warder would cry to the
flagging ones. "Step out there, men, step out!" another would exclaim, as the convicts
filed rapidly by them.
Presently the principal warder roared, "Ha-a-a-lt! " and instantaneously the whole of
the brown rings that before were circling round and round, like some cavalcade at a circus,
came to a sudden stop with almost military precision; and immediately afterwards the
warder shouted, " Face about ! " whereupon they one and all turned on their heels and
• It is but right to add, that this hit of prison foppery is to he abolished. Colonel Jehb, in a letter
addressed to the Under-Secretary of State, quotes the following resolution come to by a Board of Inquiry
in favour of its discontinuance :—" That the mask or peak does not prevent prisoners from recognising
each other in the prison ; moreover, that as prisoners see each other before they are brought to the prison, come
in considerable bodies, and are assembled together when they leave the prison, it would be desirable to discon¬
tinue it, since the use of it appears calculated to depress the spirits of the men, without obtaining any corres¬
ponding advantage."—RtpoH on the Discipline and Management of Convkt Prisons for the Year 18S3,
PENTONTILLE PRISON.
143
commenced pacing in. an opposite direction, tlie officers crying as before, " Stop out, men," and
" Move on there," as they one after another went striding past them.
At first one is astonished at the rapid rate at which the prisoners keep moving, but a
reference to the Government reports tells us that this mode of exercise has been adopted after
the plan pursued at "Wakefield, where we are informed the prisoners are made to walk
brisldy round paved paths, forming three concentric rings; and which plan has been introduced
at Pentonville, because, as Colonel Jebb says, " experience has shown the necessity of the
greatest precautions in the administration of the discipline of strict separation, in order to
guard against its tendency to depress and otherwise affect the mental energies of the
prisoners."
The rapid exercise, therefore, at Pentonville Prison partakes more of the character of a
shaking to a drowsy man, than an airing to a wakeful one ; and as medical instruc¬
tions enjoin us to drag, pinch, kick, or indeed to resort to any forcible means to induce
muscular exercise in a person who is suffering from an opiate, so the "brisk walking" at
" the Model" is intended to rouse and stir the men out of the depression induced by separate
confinement—to shake up their half-thickened blood, as one does a doctor's draught before it
can be made to do its duty.
Indeed, we find in the report of the medical officer of the prison (given at page 116),
that the diseases prevalent at Pentonville are precisely those which are known to arise from
undue confinement—no less than 52 per cent, of the entire disorders consisting of dyspepsia
and constipation—so that out of a total of 1732 cases requiring medical treatment, no less
than 1103 were affections of the organs of digestion.
Nevertheless, it must be confessed that the men whom we saw previous to their departure
for Portsmouth appeared to be perfectly healthy, and to be in no way subject to any
depression of spirits.*
• Since the publication of the previous part of The Geeat World op London, we have received a letter
from a gentleman, who is at once a strenuous and well-meaning advocate of the separate system, remonstrat¬
ing against the conclusions we have drawn as to the operation of this mode of prison discipline ; and as we
ourselves have no other object than the truth, we readily append his remarks—which are worthy of every
consideration, as well from the character as position of the writer—so that the public may decide fairly upon
the subject. (1.) He writes, " At pages 103 and 104, you attempt to show that the discipline of Pentonville
produced, in a given time, upwards of ten times more than the average proportion of lunacy in all other
prisons throughout England and Wales ; whereas it is impossible to institute any fair comparison in such
a case. For what parallel is there between Pentonville, in which, under the separate system, the term was
18 months, and upwards, and ' all other prisons," &c., in which, under short sentences and summary convic¬
tions, it averaged so very mucA less t
(2.) "Again, your rate of 5'8 of criminal lunatics in every 10,000 of an average annual population in
'all prisons," &c.—(which, although not so stated, was probably derived from the number found to have
been insane on trial)—must fall very far short of the cases of insanity which actually occurred in every such
10,000 in the year. For, as shown by Mr. Burt, at p. 99 of his book, the proportion of lunatics was ascer¬
tained to have been 13 (persons acquitted as insane) in every 10,000 of the prison population (tried) ; but
it being impossible to discover the average period that elapsed between the attack (of insanity) and the
prisoners" trial, the interval was assumed, for example, to have been 6 or 4 months—and thus the cases of
insanity occurring during the entire year must have been, according to that rate, in the proportion of 26 or
39 in 10,000. And it did not appear that the highest of such proportions was too high.
(3.) " Mr. Burt further showed, from another table, that the annual mean number of cases of lunacy
throughout the prisons of England and Wales reported for each year between 1843 and 1847 was 89-4 the
average daily population being 14,689—giving a proportion of 63 cases of insanity in every 10,000, which
is a far larger proportion than occurred under the separate system, when carried out in its integrity, for the
longest terms, with the greatest strictness, and co-extensively with that same period of time, at Pentonville.
(4.) "Again, at the pages referred to, and at page 115, you ascribe to the separate system, properly so
called, results which it utterly repudiates. That system, commencing in 1843, and ending in 1847, or at
latest in February, 1848, lasted 5 years and 2 months, and no longer. Within that period, when its oum con¬
ditions and requirements were fulfilled—and not heyond that period, when they were violated and distorted
10'
144
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
At a later hour of tlie day—for from eight to half-past twelve the prisoners are continually
going to and returning from exercise—we were led towards the private exercising yards, and,
and when Innovations, against which it protests, were introduced—you must therefore look for its legitimate
results ; and these, whatever may be said, and by whomsoever, to the contrary, are the very reverse of the
hideous dimensions you describe. But instead of drawing a broad line after the termination of these five years
(the duration of the system), so as unmistakably to distinguish it from that other system—for which I know
no name—which succeeded it, and which in the three following years of 1848, 1849, 1850, was attended with
the most disastrous results, viz., with at least a four-fold larger proportion of insanity than occurred under the
separate system altogether ; results which, as compared with the last four consecutive years of it, were greater, by
eight times and upwards, than under the original system—(instead of distinguishing between these different
systems) you have confounded the results of the two under a common name ; not, I believe, intentionally,
but probably because others whose writings you may have consulted had done so before."
Now, against the first of the above remarks, we would urge that it is asserted by the advocates of the
separate system, as " carried out in its integrity" at Pentonville, that the greatest number of cases of insanity
occur during the early part of the imprisonment ; and Mr. Burt, in his " Results of Separate Confinement" (page
132), cites a table, in which he shows that, out of 51 cases of mental affection, no less than 29 occurred
within the first six months and under ; and 15 between six and twelve months ; whereas only 5 occurred
between twelve and eighteen months ; and not more than 2 between eighteen months and two years ; or, in
other words, that whereas 44 cases of mental disorder occurred within the first year, there were but 7 within
the second. Hence, in opposition to the first of the above objections, we say—with aU deference—that
there is some parallel between Pentonville, " where the term of imprisonment used to be eighteen months and
upwards," and all other prisons where " the term averages so much less."
Against the second observation we can only adduce the fact that, in the Government tables [from which
the normal rate of lunacy was deduced, it is not stated that the number of lunatics there given refers to
the persons acquitted as insane " upon trial," and that no reason appears for making such an assumption.
But even assuming such to be the case, and increasing the ratio to the same extent as Mr. Burt for the entire
year, we raise the proportion of lunacy merely to 11'6 or 17" 4 in the 10,000 prisoners, which is still widely
different from 62 0 to the lOjOOO' which is the proportion at Pentonville.
In opposition to the third remark, in which it is shown that the proportion of cases of insanity to the
average daily population of the whole prisons of England and Wales, is 63 in every 10,000 prisoners, we answer,
that there is assuredly no parallel here, since the Pentonville returns are made out according to the gross
number of convicts entering the prison, and not according to the daily average number of prisoners (see Burt's
" Results," page 122), whilst those from which the normal rate of lunacy was deduced refer, also, not to the
daily average of prisoners, but to the gross prison population of England and Wales.
With reference to the fourth remark, we can but quote the following table given by Mr. Bradley, the
medical olficer of the prison, in his report for the year 1853, and which is arranged to show the proportion
of lunacy in every thousand prisoners seHatim as they entered " the Model," but which we have here
increased to ten thousand, by the addition of a cypher to the ratio, in order to reduce the whole of the statistics
to one uniform standard, and so facilitate the comparison :—
No. of Unses of No. of Cases of No. of Total
Insanity. Delusion. Suicides. rotai.
Amongst the 1st (ten) thousand prisoners 60 100 0 160
„ 2nd „ 100 50 10 160
„ 3rd „ 40 90 20 150
„ 4th „ 90 70 0 160
„ 5th „ 20 0- 0 20
„ 6th „ 10 0 10 20
For the first and second items the term of imprisonment in Pentonville, says Mr. Bradley (a gentleman,
be it observed, who is often commended by the Surveyor-General of Prisons for the accuracy and lucidity of
his statistical tables), was eighteen months, whereas with the third and fourth it was only twelve months,
so that if calculated for an uniform period, he says, there would bo an increase of one-third in the ratio
of lunacy for the third and fourth items over that of the first and second. This increase Mr. Bradley attri¬
butes to the fact that the earlier prisoners were picked men, whereas the later ones were the ordinary convicts
of a low intellectual standard. The diminution in the ratio of insanity in the fifth item the medical officer
ascribes to the following causes :—(1) The shortening of the term of imprisonment in Pentonville. (2) Increased
quantity of out-door exercise, and the substitution of exercise in common for exercise in separate yards.
(3) Better ventilation of the cells. (4) Relaxation of the discipline in all cases of danger. (5) Awakening
the prisoner's interest in the pursuit of his trade. (6) Increased amount of school instruction given to the
most ignorant.
The same offieer, moreover, adds that though much has been gained by the measures adopted during
PEKTONVILLE PEISOE".
145
ès we went, we passed a detachment of " associated " convicts at work with harrows and
spades in the prison grounds, and with an officer attending in their rear.
* These private yards consist, as we have said, each of a series of eight compartments, or
deep narrow dens, as it were, that seem, with their partitions, not unlike the elongated stalls
of a stable, all radiating from a small octagonal house in the centre, where sits a warder
watching the prisoners. Here the invalids and refractory or dangerous prisoners are put
to exercise.
As we neared yard Ho. 4, the warder whispered in our ear that the short man vrith red
hair, whom we should see exercising in one of the compartments, was in for a murder com¬
mitted at Carlisle ; and, indeed, had had so narrow an escape from the gallows, that his
respite had arrived only on the Saturday before his appointed execution on the Monday.
As we passed, we could not help fixing our gaze upon the blood-shedder, who was pacing
the yard moodily, with his hands buried in his pockets ; and as the men, in this part of the
prison, exercise with their cap-peaks up, we saw sufficient of the features of the felon—^for
he returned our glance with a savage stare and scowl—to teach us, or rather to make us
believe (and it is astonishing what physiognomical foresight we obtain afler such traits of
character), that he was thoroughly capable of the act for which he was suffering. He had
been a pitman in the north, and had the peculiar freckled, iron-mouldy, Scotch complexion,
whilst his cheek bones were high, his face broad and flat, and his neck short and thick
as a bull-terrier's, to which animal, indeed, he appeared to be a kind of human counterpart.
As we saw him prowling there, round-and round within his deep, narrow yard, he reminded
us of a man-beast caged up in some anthropo-zoological gardens.
Scarcely had we passed this one, before our eye fell upon another prisoner, whose more
"respectable" features and figure, as well as silver hair, told that he did not belong to the
ordinary convict class ; and though we could not but consider his sentence an honour and
glory to the unswerving justice of the country, as proving the falsity of there being one law
for the rich and another for the poor, nevertheless, we could not, at the same time, refrain
from sympathising with the misery and shame of those innocent relatives and friends whom
the crime of this wretched man has involved in utter social ruin.
It forms no part of our office to pander to the idle curiosity of the public as to how a
titled criminal may bear himself in prison, and as we knew that every word we penned on
the subject would be gaU and wormwood to the bruised hearts of those belonging to, or
connected with the family, we elosed our note-book before reaching the private yard where
the individual was exercising, and turned our head away, so that even he might not fancy
that we had come to exult over, and make stiU. more public, his degradation.
*#* Arrival of Convicts.—At a little before nine, a.m., the men return from their morn¬
ing's exercise and prayer, and the corridors, which have remained for nearly an hour drained
of all their inmates, begin to swarm again with prisoners, as the men come pouring back
from the yards and chapel ; and then the arcades, and galleries, and staircases are once
more lined with the masked convict troops filing along, one after another, as rapidly as they
can stride towards their separate cells.
At nine o'clock the parade of the prison officers takes place.
recent years as regards the reduction of the cases of mental disorder, the limits of safety have scarcely yet been
reached.
To Mr. Bradley, again, the merit seems to he due of recommending that the daily amount of out-door
exercise should be increased, and that such exercise should be of a healthy and exhilarating character rather
than the monotonous and listless walk of separate yards, as formerly practised at the prison.
Now such statements and figures, it will be observed, are at variance with the strictures of our correspon¬
dent ; and we can but add that, when authorities disagree, it is our duty to state the two cases as fairly as
possible, and leave the public to decide.
146
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
" FaR in ! " cries the chief warder as the hour is striking, and instantly the twenty and
odd officers draw themselves up in a double line across the centre corridor. They are habited
in their glazed caps and short work-day jackets, that are not unlike a policeman's coat shcttn
of its tails, and ornamented with a small brass crown on the stand-up collar, whilst each
wears a broad black leathern belt round the waist, with a shiny cartouche-box for his prison
keys projecting from the hip.
No sooner are the men arranged in military lines than the head warder shouts—" Stand
at ease !—Eyes front !—Rear rank fall back ! " and instantly the officers behind step a pace
backwards, their feet moving as one man. The chief warder passes between the ranks,
and when he has finished his inspection of the warders, cries again—"Rear rank, forward!"
whereupon the men behind draw close up to the rank in front, and then the head officer
proceeds to read over the regulations and duties for the next day ; after which he shouts
" Ereak ! " and immediately the warders disperse to their several quarters—the regulations
just read over being placed on the desk in the centre corridor for the inspection of the officers
throughout the day.
Presently a man appears carrying a letter-box, with a padlock at its side and a slit at the
top. The one we saw was marked B, for it was the receiving-box for the corridor so inscribed,
and contained the convicts' letters to their friends, which had been just collected from that
division of the prison.
" That box, sir," said the warder who acted as our guide, "is taken to the chaplain, who
reads the letters in it, and after that to the governor, who does the same ; and if they are
found to contain nothing improper or contrary to the prison rules, they are despatched to the
prisoners' friends. The schoolmaster supplies the men with the paper," continued our
informant, " and the prisoner writing to his friends says, over night, to the officer on duty, ' I
shall have a letter to send to-morrow morning.' " *
* The following are the official regulations respecting the sending and receiving of letters by convicts
and which are usually printed on the first page of the letter-paper supplied to them ;—
" Convicts are permitted to write one letter on receptim, and another at the end of three months. They may also
receive one letter {prepaid) every three months during their slay. Matters of private importance to a convict may
be communicated at any time by letter {prepaid) to the Oovernor or Chaplain, wlvo will inform the convict thereof,
if expedient.
" In ease of misconduet, the privilege of receiving or writing a letter may be forfeited for the time.
All letters of an improper or idle tendency, either to or from convicts, or containing slang or other olfectionable
expressions, will be suppressed. The permission to write and receive letters is given to the convicts for the purpose
of enabling them to keep up a connection with their respectable friends, and not that they may hear the news of the
day.
" All letters are read by the Governor or Chaplain, and must be legibly written, and not crossed.
" Neither elothes, money, nor amy other articles are allowed to be received at the prison for the use of convicts,
except through the Oovernor. Persons attempting otherwise to introduee any article to or for a convict, are liable
to fine or imprisonment, and the convict concerned is liable to be severely punished."
By way of showing the kind of letters written by convicts of the better class, we here append one from a
youth who had been imprisoned for defrauding his employer. It is headed by the subjoined official instruc¬
tions ;—" The convict's writing to be- confined to the two inner pages. In writing to the convict, direct to
No.— C J ." The letter itself is as follows :—
"My Dear Mother
" I am sorry that you should have been kept waiting so long to hear from me but the reason
is because I wanted to let you know what Mr. D said and I did not hear from him until last Monday
and he did not answer my letter sooner because he had been waiting to see if he could hear of anything that
would suit me and he says he was sorry that he had not at that time he seems to think that it would be advisable
not to return to L and he also says that he should have no objections to employ me as far as he himself
is concerned but that is business concerns other people so much that they might not think it advisable he wishes
me well and hopes you may be able to meet with something to suit me I was recommended for my liberty
last Saturday but cannot say to a month when I shall come home when called upon by the Chaplain I could
PENTONVILLE PEISON.
147
By a curious coincidence, it so happened that we were able to witness the arrival as
well as the departure of a hatch of convicts in the course of the same day ; and early on
the morning of our visit we had seen placed in the corridor bundles of clothes, which we
were told had been sorted ready for the coming prisoners from Mülbank.
Pentonville Prison, it should here be observed, is a kind of probationary asylum, where
convicts are qualified, either for transportation abroad, or for duty at the public works at
home, such as Woolwich, Portsmouth, Portland, &c. ; indeed, it is a kind of penal purgatory,
where men are submitted to the chastisement of separate confinement, so as to fit them for
the after state. Originally, the Model Prison was designed as a convict academy for transports,
where the inmates were not only to be taught a trade that would be a means of subsistence
to them in the colonies, but where a certain moral, if not religious, impression was to be
made upon them, in order to render them good members of the new society they were
about to enter upon; and, in the first years of the working of this institution, the prisoners used
to be fitted out in a kind of sailors' costume, and assembled in the central corridor, in their
straw hats, and with their " kits" at their side, previous to their departure for the convict
ship.
Since the coipparative abolition of the transport system, however, the convicts leaving
Pentonville are sent either to Portsmouth (as we have seen), or else to Woolwich or to
Portland, according as men are wanted at one or other of those establishments. On the
other hand, convicts arriving at Pentonville come from Millbank, which prison now serves as
a kind of dépôt for the reception of convicts generally, and whither they are sent from the
several detentional prisons after they have been found guilty, and sentenced for the ofiences
with which they were charged.
Early in the forenoon of the day that we passed at Pentonville, we were informed that
the expected new batch of convicts was outside the gates; and that, if we would step towards
the court-yard, we could see them received at the doors.
We found the governor, with the chief warder and other officers, assembled on the steps
at the end of the prison hall. As soon as we reached the spot a whistle was given, and, the
outer gates being thrown back, we saw some omnibuses drawn up in the large portcullis
porch without. Then the doors of the several vehicles were opened, and out came a string
of some ten convicts from each of the carriages.
The miserable wretches were chained together by the wrists in lines, after the same
fashion as we have already described. Some were habited in the ordinary light snuff-brown
convict suits, and others wore gray jackets, all having Scotch caps, and small bundles of
Bibles and hymn-books, tied in handkerchiefs, under their arm; whilst all the articles
they wore—jacket, trousers, cap, and even their gray stockings—were marked by the red
stripe which is characteristic of all convict apparel; for not only are the clothes, but
even the sheets and flannels of the Government prisons so distinguished.
On descending from the omnibus, the new prisoners were drawn up in five rows on one
side of the court-yard. They were of all ages—from mere boys to old men of between fifty
and sixty. K'or were their expressions of features less various ; some looked, as a physiognomist
would say, " really bad fellows," whilst others appeared to have even a " respectable " cast of
only give yourself as a reference and the Governor told me on Saturday that I had a good one come I shall
be here to write another letter and think to be at home the beginning of April but perhaps can tell more about
it in my next
" Wishing you all well I conclude with my kindest love to my dear brothers sisters relations and friends
and accept the same dear Mother yourself
" I remain,
"Your affectionate and loving Son,
" Please to write soon God bless you " " Cs. J .
The writer of ffie above letter has since been liberated on " license," and been provided with a situation,
through the kindness of one of our own friends. He seems likely to go on well.
148
ÏIIE GEEAT WORLD GE LONDON.
countenance, the features being well formed rather than coarse, and the expression marked
by frankness rather than cunning, so that one could not help wondering what hard pressure
of circumstances had brought them there. It did not require much skill in detecting character
to pick out the habitual offender from the casual criminal, or to distinguish the simple, broad
brown face of the agricultural convict from the knowing, sharp, pale features of the town
thief.
" That's the youngest boy I ever saw in this prison," said one of the warders, as he
pointed to a eonvict-lad among the troop, who seemed scarcely fourteen years of age.
"No wonder we get them here so young," exclaimed the chief warder, "for late last
evening I saw three boys stuffed in a hole under the railway, just where the man has a fire in
the day-time to roast his nuts and apples, so that the place is a little warm at night for the
poor things."
Here an ofiicer, with a gold-lace band round his cap, marking him as the principal
warder who had come with the convict batch, stepped forward and delivered his papers to
the Pentonville authorities.
"You see," said the governor to us, " the ofiicer from Millbank brings us the caption-
papers, with the sentence and order of Court, as well as the certificates of conduct in connec¬
tion with each man during his imprisonment, so that we may know all the antecedents of
those we receive. Then we give a receipt for the bodies on the warrant of the Secretary of
State, a duplicate of which has been lodged with us some days previously."
" Please to unlock them," said the Pentonville chief warder to the Millbank ofiicer ;
and instantly the oficial with the gold-lace band proceeded to do as requested, whilst the
other Millbank ofiicers drew the stout curb-chain through the holes of the handcuffs, and so
detached the prisoners one from the other.
Then the governor's clerk called over the names of the men contained in the Secretary
of State's warrant ; and as the convicts cried, "Here, sir !" they passed over, one afteYanother,
to the other side of the yard.
After this the medical ofiicer inspected the new prisoners, even though he had been
furnished with a certificate that the convicts sent were " free from infectious or contagious
disease, and fit to be removed."
" Are you in good health ?" the doctor asks of each man, as he walks along the line with
a note-book in his hand, and ready to enter any answer to the contrary—" Are you in good
health?" and if the reply be in the afirmative, the man is dismissed to the reception wards
below, there to pass through the other preliminary examinations.
On the day on which we were present there were but one or two men among the fresh
arrivals who complained of being sickly, and one of these was a ghastly, featureless spectacle
from syphiUs.
" What can we do with such a man here?" said the doctor, turning to us.
" Can you read, my man ?" he asked of another prisoner, the " facial angle" of whose
head showed him to be a man of low intellect. "No, sir," was the answer, "but I
know my letters." " And he will never know anything more," added the medical ofi&cer in
an under-tone, when he had dismissed the prisoner, " for he is one of the men we often get
here that no teaching on earth could instruct."
" Do you find the convicts generally persons of inferior understanding ?" asked we.
" Generally speaking, I should say certainly," was the cautious reply. " There are
exceptions, of course ; but as a body, I consider them to be haily developed people. Yonder,
however, is one of the contradictions we occasionally meet with," whispered the medical
officer to us.
The man the doctor alluded to was a person of a highly intellectual cast of countenance,
and, what struck us as being more peculiar, his forehead was not only broad and high,
but the head bald—for it is rather an extraordinary circumstance, that when the convicts at
PENTONVILLE PEISOÎT.
149
a Government prison are mustered altogether, as in chapel, we seldom or never see one
bald or gray head among the 400 or 500 individuals that may be there assembled.
On inquiry, the new prisoner proved to be a German "physician," or natural philosopher
(for in Germany the term physician is used in a different sense from what it is in England),
belonging to Berlin. He had been sentenced for stealing a portmanteau at a railway station,
and not only tried imder a false name, but refused to give any information as to his friends.
The medical officer then informed us that they were often awkwardly situated with the
foreigners sent to the prison. A little whüe ago there had been two Chinamen there, and
among the " batch" that we saw arrive, there were, besides the German physician above
alluded to, no less than three Erenchmen ; there was, moreover, a Spaniard already in the
prison, who called himself a physician, and who, being unable to speak English, communi¬
cated with the doctor in a kind of Spanish dog-Latin.*
When the medical officer has finished his examination of the fresh prisoners, the governor
proceeds below to say a few words to the men, as to the rules and regulations of the prison.
We accompanied the governor down to the reception ward for this purpose, and there
found the convicts drawn up partly in a narrow passage, and partly in a small room at the side.
The address was at once dignified and kindly. The governor told the men that he hoped
they would conform to the distressing circumstances in which they had placed themselves,
and save him the pain of punishing them for a breach of the prison rules. 'It was his duty,
he said, to see those rules strictly carried out, and he made a point of never swerving
from it. At that prison, all intercommunication among prisoners was strictly forbidden, and
though some might think an infringement of this rule a trivial offence, nevertheless the
authorities could not look upon it in such a light, and therefore an attempt on the part of
any man to hold communion with his fellow-prisoners would be immediately punished. But if
there were punishments, the men would find that there were rewards also ; and these rewards
were open to any prisoner to gain by good conduct, without the least favour. They would
find, too, that exemplary behaviour would serve them, not only in that prison, but in the one
to which they might be sent hereafter ; so he trusted they would spare him the exercise of
the painful duty of pimishing, and allow him the more pleasant office of rewarding them
there, so that he might give them each a first-class character when they left, and thus render
their imprisonment as light as it possibly could be made consistently with public duty.
When the governor had finished his oration, the chaplain came and spoke to them also.
His address was of a more touching character ; for the clergyman said he was well aware
what a sad trial it was for them to be parted from aU their friends, and it was the most painful
part of his office to be visited by the relatives of prisoners—^to witness the hea\'y affliction
that convicts brought upon their families hy their disgrace and pimishment. He begged of
them, therefore, to conduct themselves well, and to turn their thoughts to the one Great
Being who was stiU ready to receive and welcome them to a share of His love ; and to
remember that though all the world might shun them in their shame, and that though they
• The medical officer of Pentonville obliged us with the last letter he had received from this Spanish con¬
vict. It ran as follows :—
" Àbitavid in est domo non manducavid sine panis et potatorum, caro non posum masticare, et debilitacio
apod eravid ore et enfirmetas aumentaverum, ego volo si posum sine manducare ad expensas meas, abeo domus
et terras cui sua productions dad suficiens rentam ; enñrmetas meas sunt anticuarum, ego abeo metodum
(almor) in iniectionem aquarum malv : calida (reuma<») Lac cum decoctum Sarsparill calidum et multarum
rerum,"
We append as literal a translation as is possible of the above jargon
" I have lived in this house, not eating anything except bread and potatoes—^flesh I cannot chew, and my
debility and infirmities augment. I wish, if I can, to eat at my own expense. I have houses and lands, the
produce (or income) of which gives a sufficient rent. My infirmities are ancient ; I have a method—or sys¬
tem of cure—(afeior) in an injection of water of mallows hot {rhetm), milk with a decoction of sarsaparilla hot,
and many things."
150
THE GEEAT WOHLD OP LOKDOH.
had hardly one friend left to say a kindly "word for them, there tvas One who had suffered on
earth for their sakes, and who was ever ready to plead for mercy—where mercy was most
needed—in their behalf. He hoped that they would all do this, so that when their friends
came or wrote to him, to leam some tidings of them, he might be able to soothe their anguish
with the assurance that they had become better men, and might still Kve to be a comfort
and a joy to those upon whose heads they had, as yet, only brought down shame and sorrow.
We watched the men intently while the tender exhortation was being delivered to
them, and when the chaplain spoke of their friends and relatives, they one and all hung
their heads, whilst some, we could see, bit their lip to stay the rising tear ; and when the
speech was finished, there was many a moistened eye, and many a cry of " Bless you, sir !"
as the minister took his leave.
After the new-comers had been spoken to as above by the governor and chaplain, they
were ordered into two small rooms in the same part of the building as that in which they
had been addressed ; and on our returning to the " reception-room " a few moments after¬
wards, we heard the buzz of many voices, and found the men chattering away as hard as
school boys in play-time, for they knew it was the last talk they would be able to mdulge
in for the next three-quarters of a year ; whilst outside the door was an officer giving notice
to the men that they would not be allowed to take anything into the prison but their Bibles
and Prayer-books.
" Have any of you got any letters, or locks of hair, or anything else to give up ? " cried
the officer, as he put his head into the room; "for if they're found on you in the prison
they'll be destroyed."
" I've got a letter," exclaimed one, holding out a piece of paper, and as he handed over
the article, the officer proceeded to write on the back the owner's name, and to deposit it
in a tray by his side. The warder then told us that the various packets collected would be
put under the care of the steward, who kept a book of all that was entrusted to him, and on
the convicts' leaving, the articles would be either restored or transferred to the prison to which
they might be sent. He added, that the prisoners set great store upon such things, and that
numbers of them entered the prison with locks of hair hung round their neck. " There are
several locks there, you see, sir, that I have collected already," said the warder, pointing to
some smaU packets done up after the fashion of " kisses " at a confectioner's.
By this time the usual preliminary bath was ready, whilst the other end of the passage
was filled with a white fog of steam as thick as that pervading a laundry.
Then began the examination of the prisoners previous to bathing. Eor this purpose
they were had out into the passage one by one, as soon as they had stripped themselves of
their clothes, and made to stand before the officer in a perfect state of nudity, while he
examined every part of their person.
" There now, place your feet on the mat. What's the use of you're going on the cold
stones when there's a rug put for you?" exclaimed the officer in an authoritative tone.
" Now, open your mouth," he continued, when the prisoner had stationed himself as directed,
" and lift up your tongue. Did I say put out your tongue, man ? Lift it up, don't you
hear ?" whereupon the officer proceeded to spy into the open jaws of the convict, as closely
as a magpie does down a bone ; and when he had satisfied himself that there was no money
nor anything else secreted within it, he moved to the back of the man and cried, " Bend
your head down!" and then commenced examining the roots of the prisoner's hair, as well as
behind his ears. This done, the next order was, " Holdup your arms ! " and then the naked
man raised his hands high above his head, one after the other, while the officer assured him¬
self that he had nothing hidden there.
After this, the convict was commanded to place himself on all fours, so as to rest on his
hands and feet, and then to raise his legs one at a time,^ so that the warder m%ht see whethm-
anything were concealed under his toes.
PEKTONYILLE PEISOK.
151
" There, that'll do. Clap this rug over your shoulders and run away to the bath,"
added the official, when the examination was concluded.
" "We can't he too careful, sir," said the warder, turning to us, as he held up the man's
Bible by the covers, and proceeded to shake the pendent leaves backwards and forwards, in
order to satisfy himself that nothing had been inserted between the pages. " Sometimes
a piece of süver has been found stowed away in a man's mouth, and some convicts have been
known to bring in keys and pick-locks hidden about their bodies in the most inconceivable
places."
The next process was the bathing, and as we entered the bath-room we found the floor
strewn with bundles of clothes, and a prisoner, with his hair wet and clinging in matted
"pencils" about his face, busy dressing himself in the PentonviUe flannels, shirt, and
stockings, and with a couple of warders in large aprons standing by. In the adjoining
bath-room was another convict splashing about in the warm-bath, and evidently enjoying
the luxury of the brief immersion in the hot water.
" There, go outside into the passage and get your coat and trousers," said the warder to
the' man who was half-dressed ; whilst to the naked one, who came running along with a
rug over his shoulders, he cried, "In you go, and look sharp!" as he beckoned him towards
the bath and ordered the other to come out.
On the opposite side of the passage to the bath-room the governor's clerk and another
were busy making out the register-number for each of the new-comers, and examining the
men and their papers previous to entering their names on the prison books, as well as assign¬
ing to them their several trades.
On entering this room we found the boy that the chief warder had before dra\vn our
attention to, as being the youngest lad that had ever been confined within the walls of that
prison, undergoing his examination. In his caption-papers he was marked sixteen years of
age, but certainly did not look fourteen. He had been imprisoned twelve times for one month,
two months, and so on up to twelve months, and was now sentenced to four years' penal servi¬
tude for stealing a handkerchief value one shilling. He had all the sharp, cunning appear¬
ance of the habitual London thief, and as he spoke he feigned a simplicity that you could see,
by the curl and quivering at the comers of his mouth, required but the least frivolous word
to make him break through and burst into laughter.
The next convict who entered belonged to the agricultural class, and Tie had been sentenced
to four years' penal service also, for stealing a broom and a pair of leathern mittens. " What
have you been ?" inquired one of the clerks of the man. "A gardener," was the brief and
timid reply. "Ever worked at anything else?" was the next question. "Always at that kind
of work," the man answered. " Been in prison before ? " "Yes, sir." "Leam anything
there ?" "I learnt mat-making, if you please, sir." "Can you make a mat?" "Well, I'll
try, sir." Whereupon the man was dismissed.
The trades carried on in PentonviUe Prison, we were told, consisted of weaving, mat-
making, tailoring, and shoemaking ; and, in the distribution of these employments, the
officers look principaUy to the physical and mental capabilities of the convicts. Strong,
broad-shouldered men are put to weaving and to mat-making, whilst the more feeble class
of prisoners are set to work as tailors.
At PentonviUe the authorities make four distinct classes of prisoners. (1) The dangerous
men, or those that are notorious prison-breakers, and convicts of known desperate characters ;
(2) Second probation men, or those unruly prisoners who have been sent back from the
pubUc works to undergo another term of separate confinement; (3) Ordinary "separate
men," or those who are workmg out their first probation of nine months ; and (4) The
associated men, or those who, having conducted themselves well whUe in separation, arc
allowed to work in company with other weU-conducted convicts.
There are, moreover, prisoners of first, second, and third class characters, according to
152
THE GEEAT "WOELD OE LONDOK.
their behaviour during their term of incarceration. The first class constitutes by far the largest
proportion, and consists generaEy of the well-educated embezzlers and forgers, as well as the
more ignorant agricultural prisoners, together with the first-ofience men, and the old jail¬
birds. The second class characters mostly belong to the more thoughtless and careless of the
convicts, who are carried away by temptation or temper ; whilst the third class characters
usually appertain to the self-willed and refractory boys, who are from 15 to 25 years of age.*
Again, as regards the mental qualifications of the convicts, they are divided into first,
second, and third class men. The first class consists of prisoners who have no necessity to go
to school, being able, not only to read and write well, but acquainted with arithmetic as far as
the rule of proportion. The second class comprises men who can read and write, and work
sums as far as the compound rules ; whereas the third class men are those who are im¬
perfectly educated, and whose arithmetical knowledge extends no farther than the simple
rules. This third class again is sub-divided into three sub-classes; the first of which includes
those who can read and write, and do the simple rules in arithmetic, whilst to the second
belong such as are learning the simple rules, and the third comprises aU who can read, write,
and cypher only imperfectly, or not at aE.
Of the well-educated class of prisoners the proportion is about 14 per cent, of the whole;
of the moderately-educated class there is not quite 8 per cent. ; whilst the imperfectly-
educated prisoners average very nearly 80 per cent.f
• We were present on another occasion, when some 24 prisoners, who were going away to Portland on the
following morning, were had into the governor's room, so that he might say a few words to them previous to
their departure. Of these, 21 were about to leave with first class characters, whilst only two had second
class ones, and the remaining prisoner a third class. Among the first-class prisoners, there were 4 who had
been sentenced for 6 years, one for 5, one for 8, one for 21, and one for life, whilst the majority had been
condemned to 4 years' penal service. Among the number, too, one had been in prison six times before, and
anoüier seven ; but few had been punished while at Pentonville, and of these only two. had been punished
more than once ; one of these two, however, had been seven times in the dark cell. The first class men were
told that their good conduct would serve them where they were going to, and that they would find it to their
welfare to strive and keep the good character they had earned. The two with the second class characters
were mere boys, and they were had in separately, and exhorted to behave better for the future ; whilst the
other, having the third class character, was likewise spoken to alone, and entreated to try and he a good lad at
the place he was going to ; whereupon he said that he had made up his mind to turn over a new leaf. This
boy was far from ill-looking, and his expression betokened no depraved nature. He had come to Pentonville,
however, with a bad character from Birmingham ; still the governor told us that he did not believe the lad
to be utterly vicious, but weak and wayward in character. " If i,he falls in with boys, he will most likely
tum out baiiy, but if he gets among sensible men, he may do well enough," were the governor's observa¬
tions to us on the lad's leaving.
t Mr. Wilson, the schoolmaster of Pentonville Prison, was kind enough to prepare the following return for
us in connection with this part of the subject ;—
BETUKN SHOWniö THE PEE CBNTAOB OP PRISONERS BELONGING TO BACH OP THE SCHOOL CLASSES IN
PENTONVILLE PRISON.
No. of Scholan in
Belonging to the first class (or those who can read and write well and cypher as far as every lOO.
the rule of proportion) . . . . . • • . .14
Belonging to the second class (or those who can read and write well, and cypher as far
as the compound rules) . . • • • • • . 6'75
Belonging to the third class (or those whose arithmetical knowledge extends no farther
than the simple rules)—
Belonging to the first sub-class (or those who can work the simple rules of arithmetic) 17'76
Belonging to the second sub-class (or those who are learning the simple rules of
arithmetic) ......... 41*75
Belonging to the third sub-class (or those who can read, write, and cypher only
imperfectly, or not at all) . • .... 19*76
^ 79*26
N.B.—The above average is deduced &om four hundred examples.
100*00
PENTONVILLE PRISON.
153
*#* Prison Work and Gratuities.—have already spoken incidentally of the work
done by the Pentonville prisoners, and we shall now proceed to set forth the details in con¬
nection with that part of our subject.
As early as half-past six, a.m., the prison labour begins, and continues throughout the
day—^with the intervals of meal time, and the chapel service, as well as the period set apart
for exercise—up to seven o'clock, p.m.
The trades carried on within the " Model Prison," consist of weaving and mat-making,
occupations which are pursued principally in the lower wards; tailoring, at which the
prisoners on the first tier are set to work ; and shoemaking, in which trade the men on the
upper tier are generally engaged. In addition to these, there are a few convicts employed as
carpenters and blacksmiths, and to them the " shops " in the basement of C division are
devoted, whilst there are still some others working as cooks, bakers, and cleaners, besides a
few bricklayers employed in the grounds.*
The labour at Pentonvüle, owing to the monotony of separate confinement is, as we said
before, so far from being looked upon as a punishment, regarded rather as an indulgence by
the generality of prisoners, so that one of the penal inflictions in that institution is to stop a
man's work.
"There are some men, however," said the warder to us, as we walked through the various
work-shops, "who are so naturally averse to aU kinds of employment, that they would rather
He down Hke pigs than be put to any labour. ' If you don't do your work quicker and
better,' perhaps an officer may say to such men, 'I shall report you.' 'Do!' they'll answer,
'that's just what I want, for then I shall have a Httle rest.'
"With the greater part of the men, however," continued our attendant, " an occupation
attracts a man's mind, and he gets to feel a bit proud of his abilities when he finds he's able
to do something for himself, even though it's only to make a pair of shoes, or to turn out a
few yards of cloth. He seems to think himself more of a man directly he knows he's got
some trade at his fingers' ends at which he can earn a living, if he likes, when his time's up.f
The sentences of the prisoners confined at Pentonville in the year 1854 were as follows, out of a total of
387 prisoners :—
210 men.
or 54'2 per cent, of the whole.
were
sentenced to 7 years' transportation.
94
Ï»
24-3
»
10
33
8-5
»
15
15
3-9
»
14
14
3-6
»
transportation for life.
1
»>
0-3
>»
12 years' transportation.
1
M
0-3
20
1
»
0'3
»
»»
21
15
3-9
>1
4 years' penal servitude.
3
»
0-7
9f
»
387
100 0
* In the year 1854, the distribution of trades among the Pentonville prisoners was as follows : —
Out of a gross average of 523 convicts employed throughout the year, there were 181, or 34 per cent.,
occupied as tailors ; 108, or 21 per cent., working as shoemakers ; 107, or 20 per cent., as weavers ; 81, or 16
per cent, as matmakers; 30, or 6 per cent., as bricklayers, carpenters, smiths, &c. ; whilst the remaining 16,
or 3 per cent, were sick, and put to no employment whatever.
Moreover, of the gross average of 523 prisoners, about 456, or 87 per cent., were at work in a state of
separation from the others, and the remaining 67, or 13 per cent, placed in association; whilst of the 67
"associated men," 4 were tailors, 4 shoemakers, 7 weavers, 5 mat-makers, 4 carpenters, 5 cooks, 4 bakers,
13 were at work at other trades on medical grounds ; 7 were sick in the infirmary, and 11 were other prisoners
working in the cleaning department.
t The great defect of the industrial training at Pentonville is, that it leads to no definite end. The
" Model Prison" was originally designed, as we have seen, as a kind of moral and industrial school for con-
154
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LOJTOOH.
At half-past six, as we said, the trade-instructors go round the several wards to see
whether the mon have sufficient work, though enough is usually given out by them on the
preceding day to last the prisoners till eight or ten o'clock the next morning ; and early in
the forenoon, as we went our rounds with the warder, we found, lying on the asphalte pave¬
ment in one of the corridors, two large bright-coloured mats, like hearth-rugs ; these were
the work, we were told, of the man in the neighbouring cell.
" He's only been four months at mat-making, sir," said the trade-warder to us ; " and
yet bo's very clever at it now—isn't he ?"
victs intended for transportation to the colonies ; and yet the trades vhich the men were taught there were
precisely those that were the least of all needed in young countries, since the products of the weavers', tailors',
and shoemakers' crafts admit of being imported from other parts, so that there is necessarily but little demand
in those countries for such forms of labour; and, notwithstanding farming and agricultural work are
naturally the most desirable and valuable of all occupations in primitive states, these were exactly the
employments that were not taught at the Model, even though at the time of its erection there was no deficiency
of land in the neighbourhood.
But if the forms of labour taught at PentonviUe were ill-adapted to the requirements of the convicts in
the first instance, they are worse than \isele38 as a means of benefiting them at present ; for now that the trans¬
portation of ofienders has been comparatively abolished, and our convicts are mostly sent to the public works at
home, either to labour in the quarries, or to do mere manual work in the arsenal and dockyards, where-on earth
can be the good of giving prisoners a nine months' course in tailoring, shoemaking, or weaving, previous to going
to such places ? The main object, we fancy, of teaching men trades in prison is (apart from making them con¬
tribute to their own support), to furnish them with a means of subsistence on their leaving jail. This should,
under a high system of prison discipline, always constitute one of the principal ends in view, viz., to convert a
member of the community, who is not only valueless, but positively an incumbrance to the state, into a produc¬
tive agent, and so make him individually contribute some little to, rather than abstracting a considerable
quantity from, the general stock of wealth. Such an end, however, can only be attained by long-
continued industrial training and teaching, and certainly not by putting men to school for nine months
at hanclicrafts which require several years' hard practice before any proficiency can be attained in them,
and afterwards setting these incipient tailors, shoemakers, and weavers to dig, drag, break stones, or
quarry, according to the exigencies of the public works. What amount of skül, for instance, can possibly
be acquired in the arts of tailoring, shoemaking, or weaving, after working for only three-quarters of a
year at the craft ? The instruction in such trades, so far from elevating a man into the dignity of a skilled
labourer, degrades him to the level of the slop-worker ; and we have known many such who, on leaving jail,
served only to swell the ranks of those rude and inexperienced work-people, who become the prey of the
cheap Jew manufacturers, and who, consequently, are made the means of dragging down the earnings of the
better-class workman, while they themselves do not get even scavengers' wages at the labour.. Again, some
convicts learn in prison only just sufficient of carpenters' or smiths' work to render them adepts in the art of
housebreaking, though mere bunglers in the fashioning of wood or metal into useful forms ; and we know
one " cracksman" who leamt his traäe as a burglar at the Government works at Bermuda. Surely, how¬
ever, when convicts are sentenced to teveral yeari penal servitude, the time might be profitably employed
in perfecting them in some one handicraft, rather than putting them for a few mouths to an art, and then
keeping them for several years afterwards at the ruder forms of manual labour. If it be thought expedient
to employ convicts at the deckyards and the arsenal, assuredly in the ten years' penal servitude that many
of the men have to undergo, there would be time enough to render them experienced and skillful ship-wrights,
or anchor-smiths, or cannon-founders, or sail-makers ; so that not only might they be made to take part in the
building or fitting of our ships, but at the expiration of their sentence they would be proficients in a trade
that would at once yield them a considerable income, and be an attractive and honourable art for them to
pursue ; whilst to those convicts who had conducted themselves well during their servitude, the Government
might offer, on their liberation, to continue their employment at the wages of free men.
Indeed, until some such industrial schools be established for perfecting dexterous prisoners in the higher
forms of labour, in which Government itself has the means of finding employment for them when liberated,
there can be but little hope of reducing the criminal population of the country, or of preventing those who
have been once or twice in prison continually returning to it. The experience of PentonviUe is so far satis¬
factory that it shows a strong desire on the part of the convicts to he made acquainted with the skilled forms of
labour, as well as great aptitude for learning such matters, for all the prison authorities there agree, that the
majority of the convicts get to think more highly of themselves, and to have a greater sense of self-reliance,
when they find that they are able to produce the smallest article of utility; so that it is really lamentable to
fee such experience wasted as it is at the present day.
CniEl- WARDER AT THE I'ENTDNVILLE I PRINCIPAL MATRON AT THE FEMALE CONVICT
PRISON. I PRISON. BRI.XTON.
(From Photographs bj" Herbert Watkins, 179, Rei-'ent Street.
PENTONVILLE PRISON.
155
" It's astonishing," rejoined our guide, " the quickness that some men display at learning
their trades."
The trade-instructor proceeded to spread the rugs out upon the pavement, so that we
might see them to better advantage. They were both of a kind of rude velvet pile-work,
and the one had a blue ground, with a red and white pattern tastefully worked upon it,
while the ground of the other was a chocolate-brown, with red and blue figures. They had
been made by the same man, and the trade-instructor, we could see, was not a tittle proud
of his pupil.
After this we were led by our guide to the shoemakers' little shop, at the comer of one
of the corridors. Here, of course, there was a strong smell of leather, and the place was
littered with lasts, and boots, and small stacks of soles, like cakes of gutta-percha. The
officer who had charge of the shop showed us a pair of high-lows that had been made in the
prison by an agricultural labourer. " He had never put stitch to leather, sir, before coming
into the prison," said the official, as he twisted the boots over and over for our inspection.
Then he produced a pair of convict boots with upper leathers as stiff as mill-board, and
heavy soles the hob-nails upon which reminded one of a prison-door. These had been made
by a farm servant who is a convict, and were worth, said the officer, "at least twelve
shillings." Some men, he informed us, would do a pair of such boots in the course of a day's
work at Pentonville, which was not like a day outside, he continued, on account of the many
interriiptions.
" It's strange," repeated our attendant warder, "how some men pick up a trade. We
always find farm servants learn the quickest, and that simply because they aint above doing
as they are told, like the well-educated clerks and others that we get here." The trade-
instructor then produced a pair of cloth boots, with patent leather at the toes and sides; these
had been made, he told us, by one who was not a very good hand when he came to the prison,
but had so far improved as to tum out a pair of boots like those, which would pass muster in
many a shop."
Next we were shown a pair with elastic sides. "A farm-labouring lad closed that pair,"
he went on, " and a regular shoemaker (who is in the prison) finished them."
After this we descended to the steward's stores in the basement of the building. Here
We found immense rolls of the peculiar gingerbread-coloured convict cloth, with a red
ertripe in it; and there was the usual wooUen-drapery smell clinging to the place.
"We supply all the Government prisons, sir, with the convict cloth," said the store¬
keeper ; " and in some years we weave upwards of 50,000 yards here. But we not only
weave the cloth, sir—we make up the clothes as weU; and in the year 1853 the tailors here
tumed out more than 5,000 jackets, 4,000 vests, and nearly 7,000 trousers, besides repairing
4,500 old ones ; and that isn't such a very bad allowance of work, seeing that we had only
150 tailors in the prison.
"Perhaps you've seen some of the shoes we make here, sir?" continued the store¬
keeper, as he grew proud of the prison labour.
" That's what I call a good, strong, useful article," exclaimed the clerk, as he produced
a pair of the heavy convict boots before described ; " and it's quite a credit to the men how
readily they take to the work. A year or two ago, sir, we manufactured very nearly 5,000
pairs of boots and shoes for the Government prisons."
Then the attendant drew oxu- attention to some really handsome mats and mgs, the sur¬
face oí which was almost like Utrecht velvet. " Some of those, sir, I call uncommon tasty
things," continued the official, " and such as no regular factory might be ashamed of. Our
average manufacture here is about 4,000 of those bordered mats and rugs, and about 2,000
of those ' double-thrumb ' there," he added, as he directed our attention to a commoner sort.
"Tes, sir, a man gets to see his value when he begins to do such things as those. Besides
this, we make up all the hammocks for the men at the Hulks and at Chatham."
11
156
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
"Have you got a hammock you can let the gentleman see?" asked the guide of the
storekeeper.
"Oh, yes ! certainly," was the willing reply, as the man hiuried off to produce one of the
convict beds.
"There, now, that's a really good, strong, serviceable hammock, sir, as good a one as could
be bought in the shops. It's for Chatham, I believe ; for I know we've got an order for
that place. Last year we made up more than 500 hammoclcs here, and fitted the heads and
supplied double the number of straps and girths. Our shoemakers make the one, and the
tailors the others. Then, again, we manufacture all the check-lining, and all the twill for
the convicts' handkerchiefs, besides about 10,000 yards of shirting for the prisoners, and
some 5,000 yards of sheeting and toweiling as well. Yes, sir, everything made for the
convicts has a red stripe in it—sheets, stockings, towels, flannels, and aU. We make those
bed-rugs, too, sir," added the officer, pointing up to a roll of yellowish-brown counterpanes,
that were packed above the large presses. " We supply all the convict prisons with those
rugs. We make, indeed, almost every bit of clothing that the convicts require. The work
makes a man think more of himself than if he could do nothing."
We inquired as to the time it took for the convicts to leam the different trades.
"How that twiU, sir, is beautifully done; and a man will do such an one after two months
teaching," was the reply. " I don't think that the prisoner who made that has been quite
so long here. In three months we reckon that a man ought to be able to sew all prison
garments, or, if he's been put to shoemaking, to make the prison boots and shoes. Some do
it in less time, and some never do it at all. In each ward, you see, sir," continued the store¬
keeper, " there is a discipline officer that we call the trade-instructor, or trade-warder, and
he has to take part in the prison discipline as well as to teach the men their work ; and for
that purpose he has to see his prisoner in his cell as often as he can, and to show him how to
do the work, as well as to observe how he gets on. We've got twelve such instructors here,
sir, and they take their turn at watching every sixth night, as well as the regular warders—
they're on duty from six in the morning imtil six at night, just the same as the other officers."
In answer to a question of ours as to whether the prisoners received any reward for their
labour, and whether they had a certain task or quantity of work given out to them, the
official informed us that after a man had been six months in the prison, and he had obtained
a badge for good conduct, he was entitled to receive a certain gratuity, which varied from
fouiq)ence to eightpence a week, according to the work done.* " This gratuity," he added,
• We subjoin the official regulations concerning the remuneration given to the prisoners for their work ;—
" The following Rules and Scale for Regulating Gratuities to Convicts in Separate Confinement for work
performed will he for the present in force :—
" 1. Prisoners who have passed six months in the prison, and whose good conduct entitles them to a
badge, will be credited with gratuities according to the following scale, viz.
Tratte or Occupation.
id. per Wcetc.
6d. per Weelr.
8<i. per Weeli.
Shoemakers (work equal to)
Tailors ,,
Mat-workers „
Cloth-weavers „
Cotton weavers „
Cotton Handkerchiefs
2j pairs of Shoes
2 suits of Prison Garments
36 square feet (red bordered)
33 yards of Prison Cloth, in¬
cluding winding bobbins
24 yards
2 dozen Handkerchiefs
3 pairs
3 suits
46 square feet
36 yards
30 yards
2| dozen
4 pairs
4 suits
64 square feet
42 yards
36 yards
3 dozen
Carpenters
Smiths
Other Trades
Cooks. .
Bakers
Washers .
I according to industry and superior workmanship.
I 8<f. per week,
ßd. ..
PENTOimLLE PEISOK.
157
" is placed to the convict's account in the prison books, and transferred to the public works
when he leaves here, so that it goes to form a fund for him on the expiration of his term
of imprisonment. Some long-sentence men have as much as £20 to receive on getting
their liberty, and then they have a good suit of clothes given to them as well—according to
their station—^in order that they may have a fair start in the world again."
"'W'ould you like to see some of the 'liberty clothing,' sir? " inquired the storekeeper,
as he pulled down a bimdle of new clothes. " There, sir," he continued, " that's as genteel
a paletot as a man could wish to put on, and one in which no one could be taken for a
person just fresh from a convict prison. "We give such as these to men who have been
clerks or better-class mechanics. "We buy them, I should tell you, and they stand us in
about fifteen shillings the suit. The clothing for the prisoners who have been farm servants
and agricultural labourers, we mostly make ourselves. That bale of moleskin you see there,"
he added, pointing to a roll of mouse-coloured fustian, " is intended for those who have
been labouring men, and who may be released upon ticket-of-leave."
" I know a man," chimed in our attendant warder, " who was a forger, and had seven
yeai'S of it, but he got off with a ticket-of-leave, and is now earning his three pounds a week
regular, at a respectable trade. It's quite wonderful what a few ticket-of-leave men come
back, sir, whatever people may say."
From the store-rooms, we passed into the shops and wards for the associated prisoners.
We have before said that the A, B, and C divisions of Pentonville Prison have only three
wards in connection with them, whilst the I) division has four, viz. : one under-ground, or
in the basement of the building, where some thirty associated prisoners have their cells.
This is somewhat like a crypt, and was formerly the old refractory-ward ; but since the
modification of the separate system at Pentonville, and the admission of a small number of
the best-conducted prisoners to associated labour, the lower part of the prison has been
devoted to this purpose.
" It's only the very well-behaved men that we put into association, sir," said the warder
who stiU accompanied us on oirr rounds ; "we very rarely allow prisoners to associate who
have been even so much as once reported ; and ifs merely on medical grounds if we do occa¬
sionally break through the rules. The cleaners you saw this morning, sir," continued the officer,
"and the prisoners working out in the grotmds, and the carpenters and blacksmiths put to
labour in the shops, imder C divison, as well as the men in the bakehouse and kitchen, are
all chosen from the best class of prisoners ; for the liberty to labour in common, with the
cap-peak up, is one of the highest rewards we have here for good conduct.
" This is the tailors' shop, or cuttmg-room," said our guide, as he led us down a passage
out of the associated ward towards a largish room, that had a kind of dresser or shop-board
along one side of it. Here we foimd the place littered with bales of cloth, and three prisoners
at work ; one seated on the board cross-legged like an Indian idol, and without shoes or
braces, in true tailor fashion, whilst he stitched away at a " bespoke " waistcoat ; and the
other two cutting out the brown convict cloth with huge shears, the blades of which gnashed
at every snip. Here, too, there was the same unpleasant smell of scorched wool, or hair, so
peculiar to Sartorian establishments, and which seems to be a kind of odoriferous mixture of
a washerwoman's ironing-romn and a barber's shop. One of the convicts at work in this shop,
"2. No gratuity will be allowed unless the work be done to the satisfaction of the manufacturer.
" 3. No prisoner on the sick list will be allowed any gratuity while imable to work.
"4. No fraction of a week can be allowed.
" 6. No prisoner under punishment riiall be allowed any gratuity for the week in which he may be
punished.
" 6. Any prisoner forfeiting his badge will cease to be credited with a gratuity until he has regained his
badge ; and in the event of the prisoner committing a serious offence, he may, at the discretion of the
directors, be liable to forfeit all former gratuity to which he would otherwise have had a claim."
158
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
and who had formerly been employed as cutter at a large outfitting warehouse, showed us
the American sewing-machine that was occasionally employed at Pentonville for stitching the
seams of the prison trousers.
Hence we passed to the shop where the warps are arranged for the convict weavers, and
the fioor of this place was littered with baskets full of red and brown thread, whilst there
were large hanks or skeins of blue and white yam lying about. Here were four men^engaged
in preparing the warp for a piece of prison handkerchiefs, two were winding the threads,
whilst the others were busy holding the large comb through the teeth of which the threads
passed.
One of these men was of "noble family," and had been convicted for forgery in a mer¬
chant's office.
From this we went to the shop for the associated mat-makers, where the mats that are made
in the cells are cut to a uniform length of pile, by means of a shearing-machine that stands
in the centre of the room. The three prisoners engaged at this work were, when we entered,
busy setting the spiral knives that extend from end to end along the narrow cylinder; and
when the cutters were sharp enough a mat was put through and through the machine,
whilst one turned the wheel and the others helped to pass the mat in and out the instm-
ment, the air being charged with a cloud of fibres by the time the operation was finished.
Here, too, were bundles of coir, and large sheep-shears for clipping the coarser kind
of mats.
After this we were led back to the A division of the building, where, it was explained to
us, convicts who had been nine months and more in separate confinement were placed, and
allowed to work with their cell-doors open from nine till one, and from two till five every
day except Sundays.* Finally, we learnt that the estimated amount of the earnings of
the gross number of prisoners in Pentonville, in 1854, was, in round numbers, £2,850;
whilst the gross expense of the prison was nearly £17,000 ;—so that the convicts at the
establishment contribute not quite one-sixth to the annual cost of the establishment—^indeed,
* We append the official rules conceming the as^ciation of those convicts who have been upwards of nine
months on separate confinement :—
" Prisoners who shall have been nine months and upwards in this, or any other separate prison, since
conviction, are to occupy the cells in  division, and undergo the discipline presently described.
" As a general rule they must he qualified with one or more good conduct badges ; nevertheless, prisoners
who shall not have been in this prison long enough to have obtained a badge—^hut whose good conduct, in
this and other separate prisons, since conviction, would entitle them thereto, had the whole time been passed
in this prison—will be eligible for the privilege.
" The loss of, or misconduct which would incur the loss of badges, if possessed, will be a disqualification.
"The cell-doors (circumstances permitting) are always, excepten Sundays, to be open from 9 till 1, and
from 2 till 5 o'clock. The prisoners may sit close thereto, and work with cap-peaks turned up, but not pass
out of their cells or other places assigned to them, as presently mentioned ; or intercommunicate, or in any
way violate good order.
" Should the qualified prisoners exceed the number of cells in A division, the excess are to be
brought, during the hours aforesaid, from the other divisions into the corridor of that division, and kept
together according to their trades, and the divisions whence they came, but each apart at least feet from
the others.
" These are to bring with them their necessary work-seats, tools, and implements for labour, and remove
them back again on return to their cells.
"Medical prisoners (so far as circumstances permit) are to be subject to the same form of discipline,
but to be kept together, and, as a body, as far apart as possible from the others.
" The manufacturer is to arrange that the prisoners generally are properly attended to and instructed in
trades. Besides the proper discipline officers of A division, and the trade-warders, who impart instruction, at
least two wUl be appointed specially to exercise supervision, to be selected alternately from the different
divisions and wards, with regard to a strict equalization of time and labour.
" The prisoners are to be exercised with cap-peaks turned up, two hours, and one hour on alternate
days."
PENTONVILLE PRISON.
159
the estimated value of their labour is but one-half that of their food, so that the convicts
there are still far from being a self-supporting body.*
*^* Closing the Prison for the Night.—The remainder of the routine at PentonviUe con¬
sists merely of repetitions of processes that have been already described.
At one o'clock the prisoners dine (the principals, as usual, having taken their meal pre¬
viously), and the distribution of the dinner is effected in the same manner as that of the
breakfast, with the exception that it is served up from the kitchen (where each portion is
regularly weighed) in wooden trays, each containing sixteen tins—^not unlike the vessels in
which bill-stickers carry their paste—having a division in the middle, on one side of which
the potatoes are placed, and on the other the meat and soup.
This soup we were invited to try, of course, and found it far superior to the thickened
trash sold at the pastry-cooks', and reallg tasting of meat instead of flour. We discovered at
the same time, too, that the convicts in the infirmary were allowed their mug of porter in
addition to the mutton-chop or bit of codfish that may have been ordered for their dinner.
Then at half-past five the prisoners have their supper of gruel and bread, and the work is
given out by the trade-instructor for the next day. A little before six o'clock two warders go
roimd each ward—one a-head turning the tops of the gas-pipes, whilst the other lets down
the trap of each cell-door, and introduces a smaU lantern for the prisoner to light the jet in
his cell. After this the oflicers assemble in the centre corridor previous to going off duty—
each with his great-coat on and his keys in his hand ready to be delivered up to his principal.
Then the chief warder cries, "Fall in!" and " 'Tention !" as at the morning parade; where¬
upon, the warders being arranged in rank and file, the head ofiicer reads over the list of
prisoners who have been received that day, as well as the register-number of those who
are to be specially watched on account of their having attempted to escape from other prisons.
Then the keys are collected from the discipline ofiicers (those of the non-discipline
officers—such as the cook, baker, plumber, engineer, &c.—^having been given up at the gate
some five minutes before), and this is done in the entrance passage, the same as during the
giving of them out in the morning—the key-box being placed upon a chair, and each man
proceeding to hang up his bunch on the hook assigned to him, while one of the principal warders
standing by sees that the number tallies with the list on the back of the box. At this
hour all but eight sets of keys are delivered in, four of which remain to be collected at the
final closing of the prison at ten at night. And when the principal has satisfied himself that
all the keys which should be delivered in at six are there, the box is removed to the iron-safe
in the chief warder's room by way of security.
At seven o'clock in the evening, the prisoners' work is suspended, and then there is
• The annexed are the official returns in connection with this part of the subject :—
STATEMENT OP THE AYEBAOB NUMBER OF PRISONERS EMPLOYED IN EACH TRADE, AND THE ESTIMATED
AMOUNT OF EARNINGS PER PRISONER.
Average
Number of
Prisoners
employed.
Trades.
Total Earnings.
Average
Earnings per
Prisoner.
181
107
108
81
30
16
Tailors
Weavers
Shoemakers .....
Matmakers
Bricklayers, carpenters, and smiths .
Sick
£ s. d.
708 5 3i
1,096 13 2
667 13 2
365 5 6|
116 1 5
Nil.
£ s. d.
3 18 2|
10 4 ll|
5 5 l|
4 10 2|
3 14 0|
NÜ.
523
£2,853 18 6f
160
THE GREAT ■WORLD OF LONDOH.
scarcely a sound, except that of the occasional stroke of the gong, to be heard in the corridors.
From this time till nine o'clock, the prisoners are allowed to read such books as they may
have obtained from the library. To show us that the men were generally so occupied, the
officer who had attended us throughout the day led us now from cell to cell, and drew aside
the small metal screen that hung down before the little peep-hole in each door, when, on
looking through it, we found almost every prisoner whom we peeped in upon seated close to
the gas-light, and busily engaged in perusing either some book or periodical that was spread
out before him.
Eight o'clock is the hour for the table, tools, tub, &c., to be placed outside the cell-door of
those convicts who have attempted to break out of prison ; the tools and brooms of all other
convicts confined within the walls are also put out at the same hour. The prison now once
more resounds with the successive slamming of some hundred doors, and scarcely has this
ceased before the noise is heard of the warder double-locking each prisoner's cell, while the
officers are seen fiitting along in the dusk of the corridors as they pass rapidly from door
to door.
This done, the night-duty roll is placed upon the desk in the centre corridor, inscribed
with the number of prisoners contained in each of the wards of the four divisions of the prison,
together with the name of the officer attached to each of those divisions for the night.
At a quarter to nine, the last bell rings for the prisoners to prepare for bed, as well as
for the dangerous or suspicious men to put out their clothes, so that in case of their breaking
prison in the night they may have nothing to go away in ; after this the cell-lights are
extinguished, the sailor-like cutlasses that are worn by the warders during the night are
brought out, and placed ready in the corner of the central corridor, whilst the warders on duty
pass rapidly along, turning the tap of each gas-jet outside every cell as they go. Then the
corridor lights are lowered, and the officers put on their felt overshoes, so that by the time the
hour of nine sounds through the galleries, all is as still as a catacomb—the few remaining
gas-lights Rbiniug in the black pavement in long, yellow, luminous lines, and the only sound
heard there being the faint jangling of the warder's keys, as he moves from place to place.
Hor is there any other living creature seen moving about, excepting the solitary " convict-cat"
that is attached to the prison.
How begins the inspection of every part of the building, and the trial of every outlet, in
order to be assured that all is safe for the night.
We followed the principal warder on his rounds to ascertain the security of the place,
and first moimted to the warders' sleeping-room, where the officers who are on duty for the
night retire to rest, until the time for their watch comes on. Here in one corner was an
alarum fastened to the wall ; this was to rouse the warders, and had a series of pendulums
marked A, B, C, D, to indicate the division of the prison whence the signal might come.
The nlnniTn was Set by the principal for the night, so that the officer on duty might ring it in
case of danger.
Thence we were led into the chapel with merely a bull's-eye lantern to light us by the
way, and we went scrambling up the dark stairs, one after another, as hard as we could go,
for there are upwards of sixty doors to see secured, and every part of the enormous buüding
but the cells—within and without—above and below—to be visited within the hour. The
chapel was pitch dark, but the warder's lantern was flickered into every corner, so that the
officers might satisfy themselves that no one was hidden there.
After this we hurried away, up the clock-tower, to the chapel roof, and when we had
thoroughly examined this, we hastened down again, the warders telling strange stories by the
way of ingenious escapes ; as to how one Hackett had cut a passage for his body through the
floor of his chapel-stall during divine service, and escaped through a small hole in the wall
made for the purposes of ventilation ; and how, too, another convict had cast a key to flt
his door out of a piece of the water-pipe in his cell, but had been detected, after opening his
PENTONYILLE PEISOîi.
161
door, owing to the metal of the key being so soft that it bent in the lock, and rendered it
impossible to be withdrawn.
Then we passed along the corridors, to try the gates and side-doors leading to the
exercising grounds, and, finding these all fast, we hastened down the spiral stairs to the
associated ward below ; and here the warder and the principal proceeded to lock the passage
doors one after another—the noise of the bolts flying, sounding in the silence under ground
with a double intensity.
This done, we returned once more to the corridors, and looked to the other outlets to the
exercising yards, the tramp of the feet as we went being echoed through the building,
till it seemed like the march of many troops heard in the night.
Now we hastened below into the basement of corridor C, where we saw that the
carpenters' and blacksmiths' shops were all safe, and examined as to whether the ladders were
duly chained up for the mght; whereupon, on ascending the steps again, one of the warders
proceeded to fasten down the trap at the top of the stairs.
The next part of the duty was to inspect the refractory ward, and here the door of one
of the dark cells was opened, so as to see whether the prisoner was safe.
"All right, boy, eh ? " cried the oflcer, as he whisked the light of his bull's-eye full into
the face of the wretched lad, who lay huddled up in his rug on the rude wooden couch, but
who gave no answer in return.
" He'll be up in the morning," said the other warder, as he suddenly closed the door,
and made the building ring again with the deep metallic sound. " He's the only one we've
got in to-night."
On this being completed, we hastened back to the centre corridor, and passing through the
glass doors, commenced inspecting the several offices on either side of the passage, whilst
the warders raked out the exphing fires in those rooms that had been used up tül a late
hour.
Hence we hurried, all of us, up the stairs to the infirmary wards, where we found the
two invalids asleep, and the infirmary warder there seated by their side ; and thence we
descended to the reception wards below, and inspected every hole and comer of them.
Erom this part of the building we stepped out into the grounds—the soimd of the feet,
grating on the gravel as we paced along, seeming almost to startle the intense stillness of
the place ; and thus we passed first into the steward's offices to see that the fires, &c., were
safe, and afterwards across the yard into the stores, the tramp of the many boots along the
wooden passage now filling the building with a hollow noise.
Here, dark as the place was, we could still tell by the smell—^now of cloth, then of
leather, and then of the yam for warping—the character of the stores we were passing by
the way; whilst, on entering the kitchen, the pent-up heat and odour of cooking, and the
scrunching of the sanded floor under the sole of the foot, were sufficient, without the light of
the lantem, to teU us whereabouts we were.
Next we entered the bakehouse, where there was a peculiar smell of bread and flour,
and after that we went into the steward's provision store, and here was a characteristic
perfume of cocoa, oatmeal, and treacle all blent together.
Erom the latter part of the building we passed for a moment or two into the exercising
ground. The bleak March air mshed in as soon as the side-door was opened, and the moon¬
light sky without looked as uninviting and cold as steel, so that it set one shivering to step
into the air after the stifling heat of the kitchen.
On our return thence the warders entered their own mess-room ; and, having put on
their great-coats, they sallied forth to the prison grounds once more, but now leaving their
lamps behind. This was done to see whether there were any lights in the cells, for the
prisoners, they said, occasionally made candles out of their meat-fat and pieces of the thread
supplied them for their work. By examining the building from without they were enabled
162
THE GBEAT WORLD OF LONDON".
to detect any improper lights burning -within it. Accordingly, the officers retired far hack to
the grass-plots, and there turned round to gaze up at the se-veral wings of the prison. The
walls and windows, however, were pitch-hlack in the darkness, -with the exception of the long
streaks of yellow light shining through the casements of the corridors, ^^en the officers
had satisfied themselves that all was right here, they proceeded to try the several entrances to
the building from the outside, as they passed round within the walls.
At length we returned to the warders' mess again, where we found another officer raking
out the remains of the mess-room fire for the night. And thus ended the inspection of the
prison, the search ha-ving occupied near upon an hour, although it was executed at a most
rapid pace; for there were some scores of rooms and shops to examine and "secure," besides
no end of doors to fasten, and many a fiight of stairs to ascend, in addition to making the
entire circuit of the grounds.
Still the last office of all had to be performed—the four of the eight sets of keys that
were retained at the six o'clock muster had now to be delivered up. These were handed
over by the warders going off duty at ten o'clock, to the principal on special duty for the
night, and by him carried to the chief warder's room, where they were placed -with the rest
in the iron-safe, and the metal door securely locked for the night.
Then the fire annihilators that stood in the comer of the apartment were duly looked to,
and the prison finally reported to the governor as " all secure,"
1 i-8.
A Sunday Morning at Pentonville.
Strange and interesting as are the scenes -witnessed at the Model Prison on a week day,
nevertheless the strangest and most interesting of all the sights is the performance of
divine service on the Sabbath. Nor do we say this after one solitary visit, for being anxious
to watch the effect of prayers on the convicts at this institution, we made a point of attending
service in the chapel on several occasions, so that we might speak from no single observation
of the ceremony.
The chapel itself reminds one of a moderately-sized music-hall, for it is merely a spacious
room without either naves or aisles, or pillars, or galleries to give it a church-like character;
and at the end facing the pulpit there is a series of seats rising one above the other, after the
fashion of a lecture-room at an hospital or philosophical institution. These seats are di-vided
off in the same manner as the pit-stalls at a theatre, but in appearance they resemble a small
box or pew rather than the imitation arm-chair peculiar to the orchestral " reserved seats."
Indeed, the reader has but to imagine the ordinary pews of a church to be arranged on an
inclined plane, one above the other, rather than on a level fioor, and to be each divided into
a series of compartments just large enough to hold one person, to have a tolerably definite
notion of the sittings in the chapel under the " separate system" at Pentonville.
Of the separate sittings or individual pews there are altogether some 270 in the Penton¬
ville convict chapel, and the prisoner who sits nearest the wall in each row of seats has
to enter first, and he, on the other hand, whose place is nearest the middle, last ; for the
partitions between each of the sittings serve also as doors, so that when they are turned back
a passage is formed to the farthest unoccupied seat from the middle or general entrance.
Another peculiarity of the Pentonville chapel consists in the raised and detached sittings
appropriated to the warders, for as it is the duty of the officers attending service there to see
that no attempts at intercommunication are made by the prisoners, it becomes necessary that
they should be placed in such exalted positions throughout the chapel as to be able to look
down into each separate stall near them. Accordingly, it will be observed, on reference to the
TBE WOEKSHOP UNDEE THE "SILENT SYSTEM" AT MILLBANK PEISON.
PENTONVILLE PRISON".
163
engraving, that two warders are placed on elevated seats immediately in front of the separate
pews, and one at the end of each of the naiTow galleries that stretch half along either side of
the chapel (the farther extremity only of these being shown in the accompanying illustra¬
tion), whilst two more warders occupy similarly raised stations immediately under the organ,
so as to be able to survey the prisoners in the upper stalls.*
We have already described the swarming of the convicts from every part of the building
for daily prayers, and the long Unes of men—each prisoner being some twelve or fifteen feet
behind the other—^that then come streaming along the galleries as the chapel bell is heard
booming fitfully overhead. The scene is in no way different on the Sunday, and it is astonish¬
ing, on entering the chapel, to find how silently it is fiUed with the prisoners. Every man, as
he enters, knows the precise row and seat that he has to occupy, and though some few pass in
* The chapel is the great place of communication among prisoners under separate confinement. Such
communication is carried on either by the convict who occupies (say) stall No. 10 leaving a letter in stall No.
9 as he passes towards his own seat, or else by pushing a letter during divine service under the partition-door
of the stall; or, if the prisoner be very daring, by passing it over his stall. Sometimes those who are short
men put their mouth to the stall-door, and say what they wish to communicate, whilst pretending to pray ;
or, if they be of the usual height, they speak to their next door neighbour while the singing is going on.
There is not, however, much communication carried on among the prisoners in school, and very little
during the operation of cleaning the prison. The authorities, however, expect that a large amount of inter¬
course takes place among the men while they are out in the exercising grounds, and we are assured that
double the inspection could not prevent it there. Other convicts, moreover, fiing letters into the cells as they
go by from chapel, "though this," adds our informant, " should not occur under vigilant inspection."
The means of communication adopted by the prisoners are often curious. Some men scratch what they
want to say on the tin dinner-cans ; others talk from cell to cell by means of the water-taps ; others, again,
use a short and abrupt cough in the chapel with the view of directing another convict's attention to some
communication they wish to make. Under the silent system, moreover, it is usual for the prisoners to speak
while on the tread-wheel, either by their fingers or pointing to certain figures and numbers that have been
carved by previous prisoners about the place ; and others, again, accustom themselves to talk without moving
the lips, so that they can look a warder full in the face while conversing with their neighbour, and yet the
warder detect no signs of any communication going on.
Under the separate system the prisoners have an ingenious method of communicating by means of knock¬
ing on the cell-walls. " The following description," says Mr. Burt, in his " Kesults of Separate Confinement,"
from which hook the account is copied, " is printed precisely as it was given me hy a prisoner deserving of
credit. ' The plan is this (as taught me by a youth who desired, in case we might be neighbours, to hold a
regular communication) to write upon a piece of paper the letters of the alphabet, and under each letter to place
a number, commencing at one, thus : A person wishing to communicate with his
neighbour would then rap with his knuckle or nail on the wall, spelling the words with numbers in¬
stead of letters. Thus, to propose the question, ' Qow do you get on?' 1 should knock thus:—
8 15^ 4 15 7 6 20 15 U ' between each word give three rapid knocks, to imply the word was com¬
plete. This system of corresponding, although at first sight it may appear tedious, is much less so than one
would imagine ; for regular practitioners are so thoroughly acquainted with the numbers of each letter, that
a conversation is carried on with the same facility as by talking with the fingers ; besides, in this system
there are many abbreviations for yes, no, &c., and a sort of freemasonry, or certain signs, both rapid and con¬
vincing, and perfectly intelligible to each other. Many may doubt this statement, as I did myself when I
was first initiated ; but I can positively assert, that I have myself, with my limited knowledge of this curious
system, leamt a great portion of the history of a party who never opened his lips to me, nor would I desire
that he ever should. From this individual I leamt his name, place of birth, offence, sentence, the date of his
coming into the prison, and many other circumstances, which he contrived to make me acquainted with before
I had ever seen him, or had been in my cell four-and-twenty hours.'
" The truth of this statement," adds Mr. Burt, " was verified by the fact that the name, birth-place,
crime, and sentence of the prisoner in the adjoining cell were correctly stated by my informant, although
they had no previous knowledge whatever of each other. It may be added, that the prisoner who communi¬
cated the information was convicted in a wrong name, while no officer of the prison knew that he had another
name until it was discovered in this manner. Other prisoners have given me a similar description of this
method of communication, which may be termed the prisonwi eketrie telegraph."—(P. 271).
164
THE GKEAT WOKLD OF LOHDOH.
together at the same moliient, these go to opposite quarters of the gallery—either to the one
side or the other of the upper or lower stalls, as the case may be—so that, owing to the
intervals between the men in the several lines of prisoners pouring into the edifice from
different parts of the prison at one and the same time, each convict is able to get to his seat,
and to close the partition-door of his stall after him, before the one following his steps has
time to enter the same row. The consequence is, that neither riot nor confusion prevails, and
the quarter of a thousand and more convicts, who are distributed throughout the chapel
gallery, are stowed away, every one in his proper place—and that in some few minutes, too
—with as little noise and disorder as occurs at a Quakers' meeting.
When the chapel is filled, it is a most peculiar sight to behold near upon three hundred
heads of convicts—and the heads only, the whole of the prisoner's body being hidden by the
front of the stalls—^ranged, as it were, in so many pigeon-holes (for the partitions on either
side produce somewhat of this appearance), and each with the round, brass, charity-boy-Hke
badge of his register number hung up, just above him, on the ledge of the stall at his back.
Hor are the heads there assembled such as physiognomical or phrenological prejudice
would lead one to anticipate, for now that the mask-caps are off we see features and crania of
every possible form and expression—almost from the best type down to the very lowest. True,
as we have said, there is scarcely one bald head to be observed, and only two remarkable
men with gray, or rather silver, hair—the latter, however, being extraordinary exceptions to
the rule, and coming from a very different class from the ordinary convict stock. Neverthe¬
less, the general run of the countenances and skulls assembled in Pentonville Chapel are far
from being of that brutal or semi-idiotic character, such as caricaturists love to picture as
connected with the criminal race. Some of the convicts, indeed, have a frank and positively
ingenuous look, whilst a few are certainly remarkable for the coarse and rudely-moulded
features—the high cheek-bones and prognathous mouths—that are often associated with the
hard-hred portion of our people. Still it has been noticed by others, who have had far better
opportunities of judging than ourselves, that the old convict head of the last century has
disappeared from our prisons and hulks ; and certainly, out of the 270 odd faces that one
sees assembled at Pentonville chapel, there is hardly one that bears the least resemblance to
the vulgar baboon-Uke types that unobservant artists still depict as representative of the con¬
vict character.
There are few countenances, be it remarked, that wül bear framing in the Old Bailey
dock, and few to which the convict garb—despite our study of Lavater and Gall—does not
lend what we cannot but imagine, from the irresistible force of association, to be an unmis¬
takably criminal expression. At Pentonville chapel, however, as we have said, we see only
the heads, without any of the convict costume to mislead the mind in its observations, and
assuredly, if one were to assemble a like number of individuals from the same ranks of society
as those from which most of our criminals come—such as farm-labourers, costermongers,
sweeps, cabmen, porters, mechanics, and even clerks—we should find that their cast of
countenances differed so little from those seen at the Model Prison, that even the keenest eye
for character would be unable to distinguish a photograph of the criminal from the non¬
criminal congregation.*
• The only criminal trait we ourselves have been able to detect among the ordinary convict class, is a
certain kind of dogged and half-sullen expression, denoting stubbornness and waywardness of temper, whilst
many of the young men who are habitual thieves certainly appear to us to have a peculiar cunning and side¬
long look, together with an odd turn at the corners of the mouth, as if they were ready to burst into laughter
at the least frivolity, thus denoting that it is almost impossible to excite in their minds any deep or lasting
impression. Nor, so far as our experience goes, have even the " brutal-violence" men in general their charac¬
ters stamped upon their faces. We heard, only recently, a " rough " declare that Calcraft's situation was just
the thing to suit him, as there was good pay and little to do connected with the berth ; and yet, to have judged
by the fellow's countenance, one might have mistaken him, had he been clad in a suit of black, for a city
PENTONVILLE PRISOÍT.
165
There is something, even to the lightest minds, inexpressibly grand in the simultaneons
outpouring of many prayers, so that the confessions of transgression, and the supplications
for mercy, as well as the thanksgivings, the invocation of blessings upon all those who
are in sickness or want, and the hymns of praise, uttered by some hundreds of voices,
become one of the most sublime and solemn ceremonies the mind can contemplate. Go
into what assembly or what country we wiU—^let us differ from the adopted creed as much
as we may—^we cannot but respect the divine aspirations of every multitude gathered
together for the worship of the Most High ; for though the form of such worship may not be
the precise ceremony to which our notions have been squared, and though we may believe,
clinging to some human theory of election and salvation, that there is another and a shorter
way to Heaven, nevertheless we cannot but reverence the outpouring of several souls as
the one common yearning after goodness, the universal veneration of all that is deemed to
be just and true.
But if this be the mental and moral effect of every religious assembly, composed of
righteous men, how much more touching do such aspirations and supplications become when
the wretched beings confessing their sins and imploring mercy, are those whom the world
has been compelled to cut off from all society, on account of the wrongs done by them
to their feUow-creatures ; and we are not ashamed to confess that when we heard the
convict multitude at Pentonville, cry aloud to their Almighty and most merciful Eather,
that they had " erred and strayed from his ways Hke lost sheep," saying with one voice,
"we have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts," and then
entreating one and all for mercy as " miserable offenders," and begging that they might
"hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life"—^the prayer of these same wretched
outcasts, we are not ashamed to confess, so far touched our heart that the tears filled our
eyes, and choked the most devout "Amen" we ever uttered in all our life.
And such a prayer, too, in such a place, repeated by felon lips, is not without its
Christian lesson on the soul ; for though the first feeling is naturally to consider the above
confession as specially fit for that same convict congregration, and to fancy, when we acknow¬
ledge with the rest "we have left undone those things which we ought to have done,
and done those things which we ought not to have done," that the " we" has particular
reference to the wretched beings before us rather than to ourselves.
The next moment, however, the mind, stripped of aU social prejudice at such a time,
gets to despise the petty worldly pride that prompted the vain distinction, and to ask itseK,
as it calls up its many shortcomings—its petty social cheats and tricks—as well as its
infinite selfish delinquencies, what vast difference in the eyes of the AU-wise and Just can
there be between us and these same " miserable offenders," whom we, in the earthly arrogance
of our hearts, have leamt to loathe.
And as the lesson of Christian charity and brotherhood steals across the soul, we get to
inquire of ourselves, what did we ever do to better the lot of any Uke those before us ?
Have we not then really left undone the things that we ought to have done, towards such
as they, whispers the obtrusive conscience ? If we are a Uttle bit better than they, is it
miesionary, or even a philanthropist. Nevertheless, the generality of the "hnital-violence" class of criminals
are characterized hy a peculiar lascivious look—a trait which is as much developed in the attention paid to
the arrangement of the hair, as it is in the look of the eye or play of the mouth. They are, however, mostly
remarkable for that short and thick kind of neck which is termed " bull," and which is generally charac¬
teristic of strong animal passions. As a body, moreover, the habitual criminals of London are said to be,
in nine cases out of ten, " Irish Cockneys," t. «., persons horn of Irish parents in the Metropolis; and this is
doubtlessly owing to the. extreme poverty of the parents on their coming over to this country, and the conse¬
quent neglect experienced by the class in their youth, as well as the natural quickness of the Hibernian race
for good or evil, together with that extreme excitability of temperament which leads, under circumstances of
want and destitution, to savage outrages—even as, in better social conditions, it conduces to high generosity
if not heroism,
166
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
not simply because we have been a great deal more favoured than they ? Did wc make our
own fate in life ? Did you or I, by any merit on our own part, win our way into a rank of
society where we were not only trained from early childhood to honest courses, as regularly as
those less lucky (though equally deserving) wretches were schooled in dishonest ones ? and
where we were as much removed from temptation by the comforts and blessings with
which we were surrounded, as they were steeped to the very lips in it, by the want and misery
which always encompassed them ? Have we ever devoted the least portion of the gifte
and endowments we have received, and of which assuredly we are but the stewards rather
than the rightful possessors, to the rendering of the lot of the wretched a whit less wretched
in this world ? Did we ever do a thing or give a fraction to make them better, or wiser, or
happier? Or, if we have done or given some little, coiüd we not have done and given
more ? Honestly, truthfully, we must answer; for there is no shirking the question at such
an hour and in such a place, with those hundreds of convict eyes turned towards us, and
those hundreds of felon lips crying aloud, " There is none other that fighteth for us but Thou,
0 God!"
Nor can we then and there stifle our conscience with the paltry excuse that the men are
unworthy of such feelings being displayed towards them ; for, as we hear them repeat the
responses, we cannot but fancy there is a profundity of grief and repentance, as weU as de¬
vout supplication, expressed in the very tones of their voices, when they cry, after the solemn
passages of the litany, " 0 God, the Father of Heaven, have mercy upon us, miserable sin¬
ners !" " 0 God the Son, Redeemer of the "World, have mercy upon us, miserable sinners !"
Or else, in answer to the prayer of the minister, " that it may please thee to show thy pity
upon all prisoners and captives !" say one and all, "We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord !"
Indeed, the attention of the men is so marked, that during the reading of the lessons
the leaves of the Bibles are turned over by the prisoners at one and the same time, so that the
noise sounds positively like the sudden rustling of a forest.
One convict we noted with his hands raised high above his head, and clasped continuaRy
in prayer, while others seldom or never raised their eyes from their book ; and it struck us
as not a Httlc extraordinary to hear so many scores of felons, and even some one or two
manslayers, that were congregated under that ehapcl roof, say, with apparently rmfeigned
devotion—as the minister read from the communion table the Commandments, " Thou shalt
do no murder !" and " Thou shalt not steal !"—" Lord have mercy upon us, and incline our
hearts to keep this law !"
Nor is the attention of the convicts to the clergyman's discourse less decorous and
marked, than their conduct during the prayers ; and on one of our visits, the assistant-chaplain
related an anecdote at the conclusion of his sermon which showed how easily these men are
moved by any appeal to family ties. The minister told them how it had once been his
sad duty to be present at the funeral of a young woman and her infant, by torchlight, saying
that the reason of the ceremony being delayed until so late an hour, was in order that
the father might see the last melancholy office performed over the body of his child ; and
he had had to travel on foot for many miles, from the town in which he resided.
It was curious to watch, as the humble history grew in interest, how every prisoner's
head was stretched forward from his little stall, and their eyes became more and more
intently rivetted on the clerg3rman.
When the old man saw the coffin of his girl and her babe lowered into the grave, pro¬
ceeded the minister, his tears streamed down the furrows of his cheeks; and when the service
was over, and the sexton was about to begin shovelling the earth into 4ihe grave, and hide,
for ever the remains of his children, from his view, he bade the man desist while he took a
last look at all that once bound him to the world. As he did so, the old father cried
through his sobs that he would rather see her and her little one dead in their grave, than
have beheld her living with it in her shame.
PENTONVILLE PEISOIST.
167
When the tale was told, there was hardly one dry eye to be noticed among those so-called
hardened convicts ; some buried their faces in their handkerchiefs, in very grief at the
misery they too had heaped on some parent's head ; and others sobbed aloud from a like cause,
so that we could hear their gasps and sighs, telling of the homes that they had made
wretched by their shame.
the chapel, an instrument is employed
Quitting the Chapel.—^For the order of leaving
as a means of signalling to the prisoners the letters of
the rows and numbers of the stalls in the succession
that the men in them are to retire to their cells.
This instrument consists of an oblong board,
raised upon a high shaft, and has two apertures in
front, so as to show a small portion of the edge of
two wooden discs that are placed at the back of the
board. One disc is inscribed with letters, and the
other with figures round the rim, and arranged in
such a manner, that, by causing one or other to
revolve behind the board by means of a string passed
over the centre, as shown in the annexed drawing,
a fresh letter or number is made to appear at either
aperture, according as the right or left hand wheel
is worked—the letter and the number appearing to
the prisoners, as represented in the upper diagram,
giving the front of the board, and the wheels being
arranged as pictured in the lower or back view of the
apparatus.
"When the service is over, the instrument is
moved to the space in fr'ont of the communion table,
and a warder proceeds to work the wheels from
behind, so as to shift either the letters or the
numbers, as may be required.
Each row of seats on either side of the entrance
passage in the middle of the chapel gallery is simi¬
larly lettered, and corresponds with the characters
on one of the wheels, whilst the several stalls or
pews in those rows are numbered alike on either ~
side of such entrance-passage, and correspond with
the figures on the other wheel; so that when the
warder turns the one wheel round, and lets the
letter A appear at the aperture, the convicts in that
row put on their caps and prepare to move ; whilst
immediately the figure 1 is brought to the other
aperture, then the first stall on either side of the
central passage puU down their cap-peaks, and -- --- - ,
throwing back the partition-door, hasten from the x^steumknt foe signalling to the prisonees at
chapel ; and when the numbered wheel is turned a fentonville mie oedee op leaving the chapel.
little farther round, so as to bring the figure 2 in the
aperture, then the convicts, on either side the passage occupying the stall next to the one just
vacated, likewise turn down their cap-peaks, and throwing back the division of their stall, pass
in a similar manner out of the chapel. Then number 3 stalls are signalled away in like man¬
ner, each prisoner, as before, making a passage for those who are to come after him, by pushing
11B8
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOR.
back the division-door of his stall, and so on up to number 10 ; after which the letter-wheel
is revolved a little more, so as to present another character to the prisoners' view. Then
another row prepares to leave, as before ; and thus the chapel is entirely emptied, not only
with considerable rapidity, but without any disturbance or confusion.*
Hi-..
Of the Moral Effects of the Discipline at Pentonville.
We have already spoken of the mental effects of the separate system as carried out at
Pentonville Prison, and shown that, whereas the proportion of lunacy is not quite 0-6 in
every thousand of the prison population throughout England and Wales, the ratio of insanity
at Pentonville was more than ten times that amount, or 6*0 in the first thousand convicts
that entered the Model Prison; whereas it was 10 in the second thousand, 4 in the third,
and 9 in the fourth; so that, had the prisoners throughout England and Wales been treated
according to the same system, there would have been, instead of an everage of 85 lunatics
per year in the entire prison population of the country, upwards of 850 madmen produced.
Great credit is due, however, to the authorities for relaxing the discipline immediately
they became impressed with the conviction of its danger to the intellects of the prisoners ;
for, as driving a man mad formed no part of the original sentence of a convict, it is clear
that the prison authorities had no earthly right to submit a criminal to a course of penal
treatment which had the effect of depriving him of his reason. Since the alteration, however,
in the working of the separate system, and the introduction of the present method of brisk
walking, together with an increased quantity of out-door exercise, and a more perfect system of
ventilation, as well as shortening the term of imprisonment to one-half its original duration,
the ratio of insanity has been reduced from 6'0 to I'O per thousand prisoners (see page 144).
Nevertheless, as the medical ofiieer says, " though much has been gained, the limits of safety hme
scarcely yet leen reached," the ratio of lunacy at Pentonville being stül almost as high again
as the normal rate deduced from the average of all other prisons.
Were it not for this terrible drawback, it must be admitted that the separate system is
the best of all the existing modes of penal discipline—^better than the " silent system,"
which has, to recommend it, only the negative benefit of preventing intercourse among the
criminals—and better than the "mark system," which would have convicts sentenced to do
* The arrangement of the chapel into stalls is not generally approved, even by the advocates of the sepa*
rate system ; and surely, if such an arrangement be not indispensably necessary for the carrying out of that
system, they should be immediately condemned as bearing a most offensive aspect, and one that hardly con*
sorts with a Christian edifice, where the minister speaks of even the convicts as " brethren."
" As regards the division of the chapel into separate stalls," says Colonel Jebb, in his Beport for the year,
1852, "Mr. Beynolds, the chaplain at Wakefield, who is a warm advocate of the separate system, thus
expresses his opinion :—' I am of opinion that the plan of the chapel is very objectionable. I object to it,
in the first place, because 1 think it is calculated to produce disagreeable associations in the minds of the
prisoners regarding a place of public worship. I object to it, in the second place, because I believe it to
produce a chilling feeling of isolation opposed to the proper social character of public worship. I object
to it, in the third place, because, instead of preventing communication between different prisoners,
it affords increased facilities for communication ; in the fourth, because it affords an opportunity to the ill-
disposed to employ their time in chapel in writing on the wood-work of the stalls instead of attending to
the service, and opportunities, also, of disturbing the worship of the other prisoners, by making noises, which
it is very difficult to trace to any particular prisoner.' " In these opinions Mr Shepherd, the governor
of Wakefield Prison, expresses bis concurrence ; whilst Colonel Jebb himself adds :—" Much of the inconve¬
nience pointed out by the governor and chaplain at Wakefield has been experienced at Pentonville.
Writing of the most objectionable character appears on the wood-work in many places, and punishments
for Attempts to communicate have been frequent."
PENTONVILLE PEISOIí.
169
a certain task of work, rather than to suffer a definite term of imprisonment ; but task-work
was never yet known to make labour a pleasure to a man, though this is the main point
claimed by the advocates of that system as rendering it superior to all others.
The separate system, however, not only prevents the communion of criminals far more
effectually than the silent system can possibly hope to do, and makes labour so agreeable a
relief to the monotony of solitude, that it positively becomes a punishment to withhold it, and
thus, by rendering idleness absolutely irksome to the prisoner, causes him to find a pleasure
in industry—a feat that the "mark," or, more properly speaking, "task" system, can never
hope to accomplish ; but, by cutting the prisoner off from all society, the separate system of
prison discipline compels him to hold commimion with himself—^to turn his thoughts inward—
to refiect on the wickedness of his past career with the view of his forming new resolves for
the future, and so gives to his punishment the true enlightened character of a penance and a
chastisement (or chastening) rather than a mere vindictive infliction of so much pain.
That the separate system has really produced such effects as the above, the records of
PentonviUe Prison thoroughly attest. It is urged, however, by those who object to that
mode of prison discipline, that the reformations it assumes to work are mere temporary
depressions of spirits produced by physical causes, rather than being conversions of nature
wrought by the power of religion.
It should, however, be borne in mind that it is impossible for any one to repent of his
past misdeeds—^to be overcome with remorse for an ül-spent life—and yet be lively and happy
over the matter. Grief necessarily has a tendency to depress the mind and body, and so,
too, mental or physical depression has a tendency to induce grief; consequently, there being
hero a state of action and reaction, it is but natm'al that the dejection or lowness of spirits
resulting from separate confinement should induce sorrow for the past, and that this same
sorrow again should serve to increase such dejection. "Whoever became a better man without
lamenting over his former transgressions ? If, therefore, we really wish to excite in the
mind that state of contrition which must infallibly precede all reformation, if not positive
conversion of character, we must place the individual in precisely those circumstances which
will serve to depress his haughty nature and to humble his proud spirit ; and this is just the
effect which, according to the medical evidence, the system of separate confinement is cal¬
culated to produce.
But it is said that these reformations, so far from being real permanent changes of
nature, are mere temporary impressions, caused by the long confinement to which the assumed
converts have been subjected, and that they owe tbeir momentary results to that derange¬
ment of the organs of digestion which arises from the want not only of proper air and
exercise, but the stimulus of agreeable society ; so that men get to mistake a fit of the
"megrims" for a religious frame of mind, or, in the words of Thomas Hood—
" Think they're pious when they're only bilious."
Others urge, again, that these same professed conversions are mere hypocritical assump¬
tions on the part of the prisoners for the sake of cajoling the chaplain out of a " ticket-
of-leave" long before the expiration of their sentence ; for as it has been found that many of
these same converted convicts soon relapse, after regaining their liberty, to their former course
of life, people immediately conclude that the religious turn of mind, previous to their
being set free, was merely simulated for the particular purpose. Moreover, we are well
aware that the other convicts generally believe these displays of religion on the part of
their fellow-prisoners to be mere shams, calling those who indulge in them by the TnV.1fTia.Tinf>
of "Joeys." We have been assured, too, by the warders, that the prisoners know the very
footsteps of the chaplain, and that many of them fall down on their knees as they hear bim
coming, so that he may find them engaged in prayer on visiting their cell ; whereas, imme¬
diately ho has left, they put their tongue in their cheek, and laugh at his gullibility.
12
170
THE GBEAT WOELD OE LOHDOH.
Nevertheless, we are inclined to believe that there is a greater desire for religious
consolation among prisoners than is usually supposed.* Indeed, it is our creed that men
oftener deceive themselves in this world, than they do others. Again, it should be borne in
mind, that criminals are essentially creatures of impulse, and though liable to be deeply
affected for the moment, are seldom subject to steady and permanent impressions. This
very imsettledness of purpose or object, is the distinctive poiut of the criminal character, so
that such people become incapable of all continuity of action as well as thought. Hence, it
is quite in keeping with the nature of criminals, that when subjected to the depressing
influence of separate confinement, they should exhibit not only deep sorrow for their past
career, but also make earnest resolves to lead a new life for the future, as well as offer up
devout prayers for strength to carry out their intentions—even though in a few days or
months afterwards, they themselves should be found scofSng at their own weakness, and
pursuing, without the least remorse, the very same course for which a little while ago they
had expressed such intense contrition—contrition that was as fervent and truthful as a child's
at the time, but unfortunately quite as evanescent.
Still, amid all this fickleness of purpose and its consequent semblance of hypocrisy, and
amid, too, a large amount of positive religious trickery and deceit, there are undoubted cases
of lasting changes having been produced by the discipline of separate confinement. As an
illustration of this fact, the following letter may be cited, for though written by a mere boy
prisoner, previous to his leaving for Australia, we have the best assurances that the after
character of the man fully bore out the mature professions of his youth, and that he has
since returned to this coimtry, not only honest, but a highly prosperous person, having amassed
a considerable fortune in the colonies, and stiU continuing to lead the godly, righteous, and sober
life that he had so often prayed to have strength to pursue, in the very chapel where we had
but lately heard the other convicts supplicating—and apparently as devoutly—^for the same
power ;—
Copy op a Lettee weixten by J D bepoee leaving Pentonville Peison.
(The orthography as in the original.}
" I, J D , came to this prison on Sep'. 28*'' 1843 in a most pitiful condition,
Destitute of true religion, of any morality, of any sound or useful knowledge, or of any desire
to acquire the same, with a hard, wicked, and perverse heart fuUy bent to, and set on, aU
manner of mischief, altogether ignorant of my spiritual condition, a child of the Devil, a
lover of the "World, a slave to Sin, under a most miserable condemnation, having no hope
and without God in the World. This is somewhat the condition I was in on coming to this
prison, until by degrees the grace of God began to change and new modle me, by showing to
me my sins and then leading me to repentance, by giving me desires to love and fear God
my Saviour, by enabling me rightly to understand the word and way of Salvation; and
savingly, with faith to receive the same. I can say now, what I could not then ; that I love
those commands which were so grievous to me in my unregenerate state. I delight to read,
study, hear and obey the blessed, pure and holy precepts of God's Word, and I hope I may
ever continue to do the same to my life's end ; they shall be my guide, my teacher, and
director through the dark passage of this world. I can say with sincerity I have enjoyed
my Sabbaths of affliction and solitude far more than the days spent in sinful pursuits, and I
have been always as comfortable here as I could desire to be. I have been taught most
Godly, truly, savingly, and soimdly, the truths and doctrines of God's Word, in which is
contained all my hopes, comfort, and Salvation, by my faithful Pastors ; and I have most
haply had given me a heart to receive and understand the eame to my great comfort. I
do truly intend to foUow the faith that my ministers have taught me, and to live according
to it, God's grace preserving me. I am simply and only trusting on my Saviour for Pardon,
Eighteousness, Sanctification, and Eedemption, or in other words a Joyful Salvation. And
PEIíTONVILLE PBISON.
171
I do it my tounden duty, after receiving these manifold blessings and priveleges, at aU
times, and at every period of my life to keep God's commandments by loving bim Supremely
with all my heart, and by doing to all men as I would they should do unto me—the sum of
all the Commands. The breaking of these has been the cause of aU my trouble and misfortune,
but the keeping of them will be my future bapiness and prosperity in this short Hfe, and in
the world to come through the merit of my Gracious Saviour, Whom I hope to know better,
to love more and to worship in his fear evermore. Amen. I have always found my officers
very kind to me especially my warder and Extra Warder, with whom I have had most to
do. My schoolmasters have taught me a great deal of useful knowledge, and have taken
every pains to instruct me in what was good. « * * « * I have learnt Grammar
so far as to parse a sentence well. Arithmetic I have made great progress in. I could not do
on coming here Simple Proportion, but I have gone through my arithmetic, and began to
study Algebra so far as fractions. I have also acquired a little knowledge of Geography and
Astronomy, with other useful subjects. « * * #
"And in this condition I leave this Prison a changed and altered person to what I was on
coming to it. But by the Grace of God I am what I am. And so I go my way to a distant
land, steadfeistly purposing to lead an upright life, and to dwell in love and charity with all
men, thanking God for this affliction which hath confered so many blessings upon me.
"J D , Aged 21, Jmie 29th, 1845."
In addition to the above we may farther quote some verses that were written by one of
the Pentonville convicts, upon the subject of the anecdote of the burial of a yoimg woman
and her child by torchlight, which has been already mentioned in our description of the
service in the Pentonville chapel ; for these verses will go far to illustrate the point we have
been insisting upon, namely, the susceptibility of prisoners in separate confinement to reli¬
gious and other grave impressions for the time being :—
■ranses weihen by one oe the peisonehs in pentonville upon a seemon deliveeed by the
assistant-chaplain, maech, 1856.
And were those joyful tears the old man shed ?
Could he unfeigned rejoice ? his daughter dead.
When by the lantern's gleam, in darkest night.
The grave received her once lov'd form from sight.
He'd travelled far that day that he might gaze
Upon this scene ; this caused delay ; her face
He could not see again : upon her breast.
Her little babe in death's embrace did rest ;
His hoary head was bare, with grief his voice
Exclaimed, " My God, I do indeed rejoice.
That thou my child hast taken in her prime.
And saved from farther guilt, and shame, and crime !"
The minister of God, one Sabbath mom.
The fact affirmed, to many prisoners ; torn
From evü ways, and friends : and for their good
Confined with best intent to solitude.
But how describe the workings of the mind ?
Of all, some felt, and wept, and some were blind,
With hardened hearts, and steeped in guilt, the most
Could glory in their shame, their crimes their boast
12»
172
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
Some fathers, too, were there, with daughters left
In the wide world, of fostering care bereft :
Their anguish great, the tears fall down their face.
They almost felt inclined to curse their race.
But better feelings ruled, as one they heard.
The minister explain the written Word;
With studious zeal, his love for souls was great.
He felt commiseration for their state ;
His text the miracle that Jesus wrought.
When unto Nain's city He, xmsought.
Brought joy for mourning, dried the widow's eyes.
And gracious spoke—"Young man, I say, arise !"
His glorious theme, the Saviour's wondrous love.
Caused many hearts to pity, melt, and move.
And earnest pray that God the Spirit's voice
Might now be heard—" Young man, I say, arise !"
That some poor souls, immersed in guilt and sin.
Might feel the power of love, new life begin
To find ; forsake their guilty paths ; repent.
The ways of heaven pursue with pure intent.
Might hunger after righteousness divine.
And let their future conversation shine ;
Might have a blessed hope beyond the skies.
When the last trump shall sound, " Arise ! Arise !"
1 ii.
TEE FEMALE CONVICT TEISON AT BEIXTON.
The Female Convict Prison at Brixton lies in a diametrically opposite direction to the
" Model Prison" at PentomfiUe—the former bearing south, and the latter north, of the heart
of London ; and the one being some six miles removed from the other.
It is a pleasant enough drive down to the old House of Correction, on Brixton Hill, espe¬
cially if the journey be made, as ours was, early one spring morning, without a cloud to dim
the clear silver-gray sky, and before the fires had darkened and thickened the atmosphere of
the Metropolis.
It is curious, by the by, to note the signs of spring-time that come to the Londoner's
ear. Not only does the woman's shrill cry of "Two bunches a-penny—sweet wa-a-11-
flowers!" resound through the streets, telling of the waking earth and the bursting buds,
and wafting the mind far away to fields and gardens; but there are long trucks in the
thoroughfares, the tops of which are a bright canary-yellow, with their hundred roots of
blooming primroses, and others a pale delicate green, with the mass of trailing musk-plants,
while the hoarse-voiced barrow-men are shouting, " All a-blowing ! all a-growing !" as they
halt by the way. Then there are tiny boys and girls either crying their bunches of exqui¬
sitely odorous sweetbriar, or thrusting little bouquets of violets almost under your nose, and
foUowing you half-down the street as you go; whilst many of the omnibus-drivers have a
smaU sprig of downy-looking palm stuck out at one comer of their mouth. Farther, there
are the hawkers balancing their loads of spring vegetables on their heads, the baskets laden
THE FEMALE CONVICT PEISON AT BEIXTON.
173
-with bundles of bright flesh-coloured rhubarb, and with small white wicker platters, as it
were, in their hands, some filled with pale waxen-looking sea-kale, and others bright green,
with an early dishful of spring salad.
Moreover, the streets echo throughout the day with women's cries of " Any o-omaments
for your fire stove ! " pleasantly reminding one of the coming warmth ; and presently you
see these same women flit by your window, carrying a number of light and biight-hued cut
papers that are not unlike so many weU-be-flounced ladies' muslin aprons, and bearing on
their arm a basket fiEed with tinted shavings, that remind one of a quantity of parti-coloured
soapsuds, or, better still, the top of a confectioner's trifle.
On the morning of our visit to Brixton, as we passed along the streets towards "West¬
minster Bridge, we met hawkers coming from the early market at Covent Garden, with their
trucks and baskets laden with the pretty and welcome treasures of the spring; and the tank¬
like watering-carts were out in the thoroughfares, playing their hundred threads of water
upon the dusty roadways for the first time, that we had noted, in the course of the present
year. Then it was peculiar to be able to see right down to the end of the long thorough-
jfares, and to find the view of the distant houses no longer filmed with mist, but the gables
of the buildings, and the steeples of the churches, and the unfinished towers of the Houses of
Parliament standing out sharp and definite against the blue back-ground of the morning sky;
whilst, as we crossed the crazy old Westminster Bridge—where the masons seem destined to
be for ever at work—the pathways were crowded with lines of workmen (though it was not
yet SÍK o'clock) streaming along to their labour, and each with his little bundle of food for
the day, danghng from his hand.
Then, shortly after our "Hansom" had dived beneath the railway viaduct that spans
the Westminster Eoad, we came suddenly into the region of palatial hospitals and philan¬
thropic institutions, as well as Catholic cathedrals and St. Paid's-like limatic asylums, and
handsome gothic schools for the blind, together with obehskine lamp-posts built in the centre
of the many converging roads, and gigantic coaching taverns, too—that one and aE serve to
make up the "West End," as it were, of the large and distinct MetropoEs over the water.
The atmosphere was stEl so clear and fresh, that though we turned off by the Orphan
Asylum we could see far down the bifid thoroughfares, and behold the dome of Bethlem
Hospital, as weE as the cathedral tower of Saint George's, soaring into the air high above
the neighbouring roofs.
In a few minutes afterwards we were in the pecuEar suburban regions of London, where
the houses are excruciatingly genteel, and each is prefaced by a smaE grass-plat hardly bigger
than a Turkey carpet ; and where, in the longer garden at the back, an insane attempt is
usuaEy being made to grow cabbages and cucumbers at something under a crown a-piece—the
realm of Cockney terraces, and crescents, and ovals, and commons, and greens, and Horns
Taverns, and donkey stands, as weE as those impleasant hints, in the shape of lodge-Eke
turnpikes, that one is approaching the outskirts of London.
Then, as we turn off by St. Mary's Church, the thoroughfare begins to assume a stEl more
suburban look; for now the houses get to be semi-detached, the two smaE residences clubbing
together so as to make each other appear twice as big as it reaEy is ; whEe every couple of
villas is struggling to look Eke a smaE mansion in a tiny park, with a joint-stock carriage-
drive in front, that is devoted to the use of the fly that is occasionaEy hired to take the ladies
out to tea and scandal, with the female president, may-be, of the Blanket, Coal, and Baby-linen
Society, in the neighbourhood. Here the residents are mostly of a commercial and evan-
geEcal character; the gentlemen aE go up to town in the "Paragons" every morning to
attend at the Stock Exchange ; and the young ladies set forth on their rounds in connection
with the district visiting societies—their only dissipation being the novelty of a sermon from
some black missionary preacher who may come down to the neighbouring chapel.
Here are seen gloomy-looking shops, inscribed "Tract Depots;" and as we pass the
174
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
cliurcli at the angle of the road, with the showy tomb standing at the extreme point of the
bur3dng-ground, and begin to mount the hill, we see houses with a kind of summer-house
built on the roof for enjoying the extensive view of the cloud of London smoke for ever
hanging over the adjacent Metropolis.
Here, again, are large half-rustic half-cockney taverns, where the City and West End
omnibuses start from, and here, at the end of a rural "blind alley" hard by—a narrowish
lane, known as the Prison Road, to which there is no outlet at the other extremity—stands
what was once the Surrey House of Correction, and is now the Female Convict Prison.
t ii—a.
The Midory, Plan, and Piscipline of the Priem.
The Brixton, or rather Surrey House of Correction, is situate in one of the most open
and salubrious spots in the southern surburbs of London. " Like all the jails erected about
forty or sixty years ago," says Mr. Dixon, in his work on the "London Prisons," "it was
built in the form of a rude crescent, the governor's house being in the common centre, and
his drawing-room window commanding a view of all the yards. It was, par excellence,"
he adds, " a hard-labour prison." Indeed, the treadmill, which now generally forms a part
of the machinery of correctional prisons, was first set up at Brixton. This was in the year
1817, the apparatus having been invented by Mr. Cubitt, of Ipswich.
This prison was origmally built and adapted for 175 prisoners, having been fitted with
149 separate cells, and 12 double ones. The separate cells were each 8 X 7è X 6 feet,
and almost imventilated, so that they were considerably more than half as small again as
the "Model cells" at PentonviUe, the latter having a capacity of 911 cubic feet, whilst the
capacity of those at Brixton was only 360 cubic feet ; and yet, though from their defective
ventilation they were unfitted for the confinement of one prisoner, and because the law did not
allow two persons to be placed in one cell, it was the practice, in order to evade the statute
by a legal quibble, to cram as many as three into each of the " dog-holes "—as the Germans
term their ancient dungeons—^while bedding was supplied only for two. The consequence
was, that though the prison was built for the accommodation of only 175 prisoners, the usual
number confined within it was more than double that amoimt, or upwards of 400. Hence
it is not to be wondered at, that, despite its standing in the healthiest situation, the old
Surrey House of Correction was one of the unhealthiest of all the London prisons ; and that
out of 4,043 persons passing through it in the course of the year, there should have been
not less than 1,085 sick cases reported, 249 of which were fevers, caused, in the surgeon's
opinion, by the over-crowded state of the jail.
On the removal of the Surrey House of Correction to the Hew Prison at Wandsworth,
the Brixton Jail was ordered to be pulled down ; but, owing to sentences of penal servitude
at home having been substituted for transportation abroad (16 and 17 Tic.), it became
necessary to establish a prison for female convicts. With this view the Surveyor-General
was authorized to treat for the Brixton House of Correction. It was ultimately purchased of
the county for the sum of £13,000 ; and immediately afterwards certain additions and altera¬
tions were commenced, so as to render it capable of accommodating from 700 to 800 female
convicts.
These additions consisted principally of the erection of two wings—one at either end or
horn of the old crescent-shaped range of buildings—as well as a new chapel, laundry, and
houses for the superintendent and chaplain. The wings were adapted for the accommodation
of 212 prisoners in each, so that the prison accommodation, when these were finished, con¬
sisted of 158 separate cells, 12 punishment cells, 424 separate sleeping cells, besides two sets
THE FEMALE CONVICT PEISON AT BRIXTON.
175
of four association rooms—one at the south-eastern and the other at the south--westem angle
of the building, and each capable of containing some 60 prisoners (15 in each room), or 120
in all ; so that altogether the present accommodation afforded by the new prison cells and the
old ones is sufficient for about 700 prisoners, whilst the altered building has now the general
appearance and arrangement shown on page 176.*
" In the course of the autumn of 1853," say the Government Reports, " steps were taken
to organize the staffi for the new establishment. It was then decided that the efficient female
officers at Millbank should be removed to Brixton, and that the female establishment at the
former prison should be gradually broken up, all articles that could be used being made avail¬
able for the latter.
" Towards the end of November in the above-mentioned year, there were 75 cells com¬
pleted and fit for occupation, and as the numbers of female convicts in the several prisons—
* At the time of our visit, the following were the number and distribution of the female convicts
confined within this prison :—
DISTRIBUTION OP PRISONERS AT BRIXTON PRISON, 18TH APRIL, 1856.
Division.
■ 4
u
$
a
&
In Infirmary.
Under
Puniebment.
Total
Prisoners.
Grand Totai.
Division.
Wards.
In Wards.
In Infirmary.
Under 1
Punishment. 1
Total
Prifoncrs.
Grand Total.
1
Old Prison Cells
(Jbr probationary
prisoners.)
/
\
A
B
C
D
E
F
16
20
8
17
20
14
0
4
7
0
2
1
0
0
0
1
1
0
16
24
15
18
23
15
"West "Wing .
{for ls< class
prisoners.)
Total .
A
B
C
D
50
51
51
51
203
5
2
2
3
12
••
55
53
53
54
215
Total
Ditto, ditto. As¬
sociated Rooms '
1
2
95
19
16
15
16
14
4
4
2
0
0
0
0
23
20
16
17
Ill
East Wing .
{for 2nd and Zrd-
class prisoners.)
A
B
C
D
49
49
51
50
7
4
2
4
••
56
53
53
54
3
4
1
1
Total .
199
17
216
Total .
66
10
0
76
j
Total in the Prison
Number of prisoners in each class
First Class
Second Class
Third Class, and Probation .
618
367
194
57
618
On the other hand, the subjoined table shows on one side the number of prisoners received at Brixton in
the course of the year 1854, and on the other side how some of these were disposed of :—
ANNUAL STATEMENT OP THE REMOVAL OP CONVICTS TO AND FROM BRIXTON PRISON,
BETWEEN IST AND 31ST DECEMBER, 1854.
On the Ist January, 1854 :—
The Number of Convicts in Brixton Prison . 75
Received during the Tear from Millbank Prison 178
From County and Borough Jails . . 410
Lunatic Asylum 1
411
Total
664
Disposed of during the Tear, by—
Discharged by License 0*
Ditto, on Medical Gfrounds ........ 4-
Pardons . . {J^^^iti^nal ." .' ." ." ." Í
Removed to Limatic Asylum 2
Died 4
Number remaining 31st December, 1854 . . 643-
Total
664
176
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDOH.
augmented by the cessation of transportation—^had increased to an inconvenient extent, it was
thought desirable to reheve them by making use of even this limited amount of accom¬
modation. Accordingly that number of females was removed from MiUbank to Brixton on
BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE FEMALE CONVICT PRISON AT BRIXTON.
the 24th of November, 1853—^those selected for removal being chosen in consequence of
their previous good behaviour and their acquaintance with prison discipline."
As regards the discipline enforced at Brixton prison, it maybe said to consist of a preliminary
stage of separation as a period of probation, and afterwards of advancement into successive
stages of discipline, each having superior privileges to those which preceded it; so that whilst
the preliminary stage consists of a state of comparative isolation from the world, the female
prisoners in the latter stages of the treatment are subject to less and less stringent regulations,
and thus pass gradually through states first of what are termed " silent association," under
which they are aUowed to work in common without speaking, and afterwards advance to a
state of association and intercommunication during the day, though still sleeping apart at
night.
The following are the reasons assigned for this mode of treatment :—
"Until very lately female convicts," the authorities tell us, "were taught to regard
expatriation as the inevitable consequence of their sentence ; and when detained in MiUbank
—usuaUy for some months, waiting embarkation—they were reconcUed to the discipline,
however strict, by the knowledge that it would soon cease, and that it was only a necessary
step towards aU but absolute freedom in a colony. Now, however, the circumstances being
materiaUy altered, and discharge from prison in this country becoming the rule, it is
essential that a corresponding change in the treatment of female prisoners should take place,
with the view to preparing them to re-enter the world. Hence the necessity for estabUshing
a system commencing with penal coercion, foUowed by appreciable advantages for continued
good behaviour.
" As therefore a systematized classification, denoted by badges, and the placing of small
gratuities for industry to the credit-of the deserving, have been found by experience in aU
the con-vict prisons to produce the most satisfactory results, the same principle has been ex¬
tended to Brixton."
THE FEMALE CONVICT PEISON AT BEIXTON.
177
"With this view the prisoners there are divided into the following classes :—(1) First
Class—(2) Second Class—(3) Third Class—(4) Probation Class.
All prisoners on reception are placed in the probation class, and confined in the cells of
the old prison—^in ordinary cases for a period of four months, and in special cases for a longer
term, according to their conduct ; and no prisoner in the probation class is allowed to receive
a visit.
On leaving the probation class the prisoner is promoted to the third class, and when
she has conducted herself well in that class for the space of two months, she is allowed to
receive a visit. Then, if her conduct continue good for a period of six months after promotion
to the third class, she is transferred to the second class, and is not only allowed to wear
a badge marked 2, as indicative of her promotion, but becomes entitled to a gratuity of from
sixpence to eightpence a week for her labour, such gratuity going to form a fund for her
on her liberation.
If after this she still continue to behave herself well, while in the second class, for another
period of six months, she then is raised into the first class, and allowed to wear a badge
marked 1, as well as becoming entitled to a gratuity of eightpence to a shilling a Aveek for her
work.
No prisoner is recommended for removal or discharge on license (or ticket-of-leave) until
she has proved herself Avorthy of being intrusted Avith her liberty previous to the expiration
of her sentence.
Old or invalid prisoners, or those who have infants, or who, from any other cause, may be
unable to work, have their case specially considered (after having gained their promo¬
tion to the first or second class), with a view to their being credited with some small weekly
gratuity.
Prisoners may be degraded (with the sanction of a director) from a higher to a lower
class through misconduct, but their former position may be regained by good conduct, and
that without passing the full time in each class over again. All privileges, moreover, for
good behaviour, such as gratuities for work, and the permission to receive visits, may be
forfeited by bad behaviour.
" The means at our command," add the directors, "for improving, ifnot actually reform¬
ing, female convicts in prison, though carefully designed and faithfully executed, will be in-
Bufidcient in many instances unless some asylum be found to receive them on their discharge
from prison. The difficulties in the way of such women, as the majority of these prisoners,
returning to respectability are too notorious to require description or enumeration. They
beset them in every direction the moment they are dischai'ged, and drive them back to their
former evil ways and bad associates, if they be not rescued through the medium of a refuge
from whence they may obtaili service."
1 n~ß-
Interior of the Brixton Prison.
It was not much after sii o'clock when we began our day's rounds at the ahove insti¬
tution. The gateway here looks as ordinary and ugly as that of Pentonville appears
picturesque and stately, the Brixton portal being merely the old-fashioned arched gateway,
with a series of " dabbed" stones projecting round the edge, and the door itself studded
with huge nails.
On the gate being opened, we were saluted in military style by the ordinary prison gate¬
keeper, and shown into the little lodge, or old-fashioned porter's office at the side, where
we were soon joined by the principal matron ("whom the superintendent had kindly directed
178
THE GKEAT WORLD OE LONDOIi.
to accompany us for the entire day), and requested to follow her to the interior of the
building.
The matron was habited in what we afterwards leamt was the ofScial costume or uni¬
form belonging to her station ; there was, however, so little peculiar about her dress that it
was not until we saw the other principal matrons in the same coloured ribbons and gowns
that we had the slightest notion that such a costume partook in any way of a uniform cha¬
racter. She wore a dove-coloured, fine woollen dress, with a black-cloth mantle, and straw
bonnet, trimmed with white ribbons, such being the official costume of the principal matrons.
The uniform of the matrons, on the other hand, consists of the same coloured gown, but
the bonnet is trimmed with deep blue, and when in the exercising grounds, the cloak they
wear is a large, deep-caped afiPair, that reaches nearly to the feet, and is made of green woollen
plaid.
While treating of this part of the subject, we may add that one of the main peculiarities
of Brixton Prison is, that the great body of officials there belong to the softer sex, so that the
discipline and order maintained at that institution become the more interesting as being the
work of those whom the world generally considers to be ill-adapted for government. So much
are we the creatures of prejudice, however, that it sounds almost ludicrous at first to hear
Miss So-and-so spoken of as an experienced officer, or Mrs. Such-a-one described as having
been many years in the service, as well as to leam that it is some young lady's turn to be
on duty that night, or else that another fair one is to act as the night-patrol. It will be seen,
too, by the subjoined list of officers at Brixton Prison,* that even the posts of superin-
The following is a list of the several officers of the Female Convict Prison, Brixton, in the year
1856 l'¬
Emma M. Martin
Melhuish
Rev. J. H. Moran
Jas. D. Eendle .
Fred. S. Parkyn
John Face . .
Edwin Mills
LIST OF PRINCIPAL OFFICERS AND CLERKS
LIST
OF OFFICERS IN THE MANÜFACTURINO OR LABOUR
John Wildman . .
Sarah Mott . . .
Margaret Hall . .
Catherine Hewitt .
Mary Ann Donnelly
Susannah White .
Elizabeth Jones
Maria HUI . . .
Mary Jane Bennett
Sarah Rogers .
Ellen Jones . .
Ann Rediough .
EUen Cordwent
Emma Fox . .
Harriet White .
Mary F. Mackins
Merrion Stewart
Mary Deaville .
Agnes J. Mayne
Susan Edwards
Catherine Reeves
Constance Crosling
Marianne Fry .
Elizabeth Harrison
Ann Stevenson . .
Mary A. Hall .
Superintendent
Deputy ditto
Chaplain
Surgeon
Steward
Superintendent's clerk
Steward's ditto
(Vacant) . . .
W. F. Ralph .
Julia Sims . .
Sarah Smith
Caroline Hassall
Augusta Maclesh
Eleanor Millington
EFARTMENT.
Steward's clerk
Workmistress
Cutter
Chas. Pumell
Fredk. King
Geo. Aylward
LIST OP SUBORDINATE OFFICERS AND SERVANTS
Principal Matron
Do. acting'as clerk to Su¬
perintendent.
Do. do. to Chaplain.
Matron
Assistant do.
Jane Alderson . .
Caroline Tucker .
Elizabeth White .
Martha A. Dickson
Margaret Foley
Eliza Leatherdale .
Margaret Hughes .
Maria Hutchinson
Lavinia Macpherson
Emma Melhuish
Maria Palmer .
Louisa Face . .
Elizabeth A. Baher
Merrion HaUiday
Mary Smith . .
George Luckett
William Mant .
Mary Mant . .
William Allan .
Thomas Roberts
John Simmance
Thos. Hawkins .
Stephen Pankhurst
Steward's clerk
Foreman of Works
Scripture Reader
Schoolmistress
Engineer
Steward's porter
Assistant Matron
n
n
)»
>»
5»
»
»
Head Nurse
Gatekeeper
Baker
Cook
Messenger
Watchman
Carpenter
Plumber
Labourer
THE FEMALE COFVICT PRISOH AT BEIXTON.
179
tendent's and chaplain's clerks are -women ; hut those who are inclined to smile at such
matters should pay a -ñsit to the Female Convict Prison at Brixton, and see how admirably
the ladies really manage such affairs.
There is but little architectural or engineering skill to be noticed in the building at
Brixton, after the eye has been accustomed to the comparative elegance and scientific refine¬
ment -visible in the arrangements of Pentonville.
At the end of a large court-yard, as we enter, stands a clumsy-looking octagonal house,
that was originally the governor's residence, or " argus," as such places were formerly styled,
whence he was supposed to inspect the various exercising yards and sides of the jaü itself.
This argus, however, is now devoted to the several stores and principal offices required for
the management of the prison.
The most remarkable parts of the jail are the two new -wings built at the comers, or
homs, as we have said, of the old crescent-shaped biiilding. These consist each of one long
corridor, the character of which is somewhat like the interior of a tall and narrow terminus
to some railway station ; for the corridors here are neither so spacious nor yet so desolate-
looking as those at Pentonville, since at Brixton there are stoves and tables arranged down
the centre of the arcades, and the cell-doors are as close as those of the cabins in a ship, to
which, indeed, the cells themselves, ranged along the galleries, one after another, bear a con¬
siderable resemblance.
But though there are many more doors -visible here than at the largest railway hotel,
and though the galleries or balconies above, -with their long range of sleeping apartments
stretching round the building, call to mind the arrangements at the yards of the old
coaching inns, nevertheless there is nothing of the ordinary prison character or gloomy look
about this part of the building ; and though the corridors are built somewhat on the same
plan as the arcades at Penton-ville, they have a considerably more cheerful look than the
apparently tenantless tunnels at that prison.
The old parts of Brixton Prison are the very opposite to the newer portions of it, for in them
we see the type of a gloomy and pent-up jail. There the passages are intensely long and
narrow—like fiattened tubes, as it were—and extend from one point of the crescent to the
other, at the back of every floor ; the doors of the cells too are heavy cumbrous affairs, -with
a large perforated circular plate in each, such as is seen at the top of stoves, for admitting
or shutting-off the heated air—^which clumsy arrangement was originally intended as a means
of peeping into the cells from without.
These passages of the old prison are as white as snow -with their coats of lime, and seem,
from the monotony of their colour and arrangement, to be positively endless, as you pass by
door after door, fitted -with the same big metal wheel for spying through, and the hrige ugly
lock of the old prison kind.
The cells in this part of the building are not unlike so many cleanly cellars, -with the
exception that their roofs are not vaulted, and there is a small " long-light " of a window near
the ceiling.
These cells are each provided -with a gas-jet and chimney, and triangular shelves, as
well as a small stool and table, and a little deal box for keeping cloths in, and which can
also be used as a rest for the feet. Then there is a hammock, to be slung from wall to wall,
as at Pentonville, and the rugs and blankets of which are usually folded up and stacked against
the side, as sho-wn in the annexed engra-ving.
The cells here are all whitewashed, and as white as Alpine snow, -with their coat of lime, so
that they try the sight sorely after a time ; indeed, we were told that a gipsy woman (one of
the Coopers) who was imprisoned here, suffered severely in her eyes from the white¬
ness of the walls that continually surrounded her ; and if it be true that perpetually gaziug
at snow has a tendency to produce " gutta serena " in some people, we can readily understand
the acute pain that must he experienced by those whose sight is -unable to bear such intense
180
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LOHDOH.
glare, and from ■which it is impossible to transfer the eye even up tx) the blue of the sky by
■way of a relief. We 'were informed that the gipsy ■woman ■was very ■violent during her
incarceration, and it docs not require a great stretch of fancy to conceive the extreme mental
and physical agony that must have been inflicted upon such a person, imaccustomed as she
had been all her life even to the confinement of a house, and whose eye had been looking
upon the green fields ever since her infancy ; so that it is not difiicult to understand how
the four blank white walls for ever hemming in this wretched creature, must have seemed
SEPAKATE CELL IN THE OLD PAET OF THE PRISON AT BRIXTON.
not only to have half-stifled her with their closeness, but almost have maddened her ■with
the intensity of their snow-like glare.
The cells in the east and west wings, though smaller than those in the old part of the
prison, have not nearly so jail-like a look about them ; for the sides of these are built of
corrugated iron, and though fitted with precisely the same furniture as the cells before
described, they greatly resemble, as we have said, the cabin of a ship (see engraving on next
page), whilst the arrangements made for the ventilation of each chamber are as perfect as they
weE can be under the circumstances.
Eespecting the character of the inmates of this prison, the Government reports
furnish us ■with some curious information. " The prisoners," say the Directors of her
Majesty's Convict Prisons, " may generally be classed, as regards their conduct, in two
di'visions, viz., the many ■who are good, and the few who are bad. In one or other extreme
these ■unfortunate females have been usually found. It also by no means uncommonly
THE FEMALE CONVICT PRISON AT BRIXTON.
181
occurs that a woinan who has conducted herself for several months outrageously, and been
to all appearance insensible to shame, to kindness, to punishment, will suddenly alter and
continue without even a reprimand to the end of her imprisonment ; whereas, on the other
hand, one who has behaved so well as to be put into the first class, and on whom apparently
every dependence may be placed, will suddenly break out, give way to uncontrollable passion,
and in utter desperation commit a succession of offences, as if it were her object to revenge
herself upon herself.
"Among the worst prisoners were women who had been sentenced to transportation just
SEPARATE BLEEFING-CELE IN ONE OF THE NEW WINGS OF THE FEMALE
CONVICT PRISON AT BRIXTON.
previously to the passing of the Act which practically substituted imprisonment in tbla
country for expatriation. A few of these had, according to their own statement, even
pleaded guilty for the purpose of being sent abroad ; but when they became aware that
they were to be eventually discharged in this country after a protracted penal detention,
disappointment rendered them thoroughly reckless ; hope died within them ; they actu¬
ally courted punishment; and their delight and occupation consisted in doing as much
mischief as they could. They constantly destroyed their clothes, tore up their bedding,
and smashed their windows. They frequently threatened the officers with violence,
though it must be stated, at the same time, they seldom proceeded to put their threats
in force ; and when they did so, some among them—and generally those who were most
obnoxious to discipline— invariably took the officers' part to protect them from personal
injury.
182
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
" Of these a few are not at all improved, notwithstanding the kindness theyliave met with,
or the punishments they have imdergone, or the moral and religious instruction they have
received ; and they will probably remain so until their sentences have expired. Some, how¬
ever, are doing very well, and give promise of real amendment."
Farther, the medical officer, in his report for the year 1854, says, "I may, perhaps,
be here allowed to state that my experience of the past year has convinced me that the
female prisoners, as a body, do not bear imprisonment so well as the male prisoners;
they get anxious, restless, more irritable in temper, and are more readily excited, and
they look forward to the future with much less hope of regaining their former position in
life.
" Neither can I refrain from saying that there âre circumstances which help to reconcile
the male prisoner to his sentence, hut which are altogether wanting in the case of the female.
The male prisoner not only gets a change from one prison to another—and though small
as this change be, yet it is a something which, for the time, breaks the sameness inseparable
from his imprisonment—^but, what is of far greater moment, he looks forward to the time
when he wiH be employed in the open cdr on public works.
" The length of the imprisonment of the woman, however, combined with the present
imcertainty as to the duration of that portion of her sentence which is to be passed in prison,
as well as the more sedentary character of her employment, allowing the mind, as it does,
to be continually dwelüng on ' her time'—all tend to make a sentence more severe to the
woman, than a sentence of the same duration to the man."
Farther, the chaplain gives us the following curious statistics as to the education and
causes of the degradation of the several women who have been imprisoned at Brixton : —
" Of the 664 prisoners admitted into this prison from November 24th, 1853, to December
31st, 1854, there were the following proportions of educated and uneducated people :—
Number that could not read at all . . . 104
,, „ could read a few syllables . . 53
„ „ could read imperfectly . . .192
Total imperfectly-educated
Number that could read tolerably, but most of whom had learned
in prison or revived what they had learned in youth
Moderately-edmated
Total
349
315
None
664
" Hence it appears," adds the chaplain, " that among 664 prisoners admitted into this
prison, there is not one who has received even a moderate amoimt of education. Among the
HamP! number of male prisoners, judging by my past experience, I feel persuaded that there
would be many who had received a fair amount of education. This confirms me in the opi¬
nion which I expressed last year, ' that the beneficial effects of education are more apparent
among females than men.*
" Of the same 664 prisoners, the minister teUs us—
453 trace their ruin to drunkenness or bad company, or both united.
97 ran away from home, or from service.
84 assigned various causes of their fall.
6 appear to have been suddenly tempted into crime.
8 state that they were in want.
16 say they are innocent.
664."
TUE CONVICT CTIAP1;E ON BOARD THE "DEFENCE" IIUEK AT AVOOLWICII.
.RD ON BOARD THE " DEFENCE " HUEK ARRANGED FOR THE REXCU. x..
THE FEMALE CONVICT PRISON AT BRIXTON.
183
H —y-
A Bay at Brixton.*
On our way across the gravelled court-yard, we had our first peep at the female convicts
imprisoned at Brixton, and so simple and picturesque was their convict costume, that they
had none of the repulsive and spectral appearance of the brown masked men at PentonviRe,
nor had they even the unpleasant, gray, pauper look of the male prisoners at Millbank.
Their dress consisted of a loose, dark, claret-brown robe or gown, with a blue check apron
and neckerchief, while the cap they wore was a smaU, close, white muslin one, made after
the fashion of a French honne^$. The colour of the gown was at once rich and artistically
appropriate, and gave great value to the tints of the apron, and even the whiteness of the
cap itself. On their arms the prisoners carried some bright brass figures, representing their
register number ; while some bore, above these, badges in black and white, inscribed one
or two, according as they belonged to the first or second class of convicts.
OccasionaUy there flitted across the yard some female convict, clad in a light-blue kind
of over-dress. These, we were informed, were pidncipaUy at work in the laundry, and
the garb, though partaking too much of the butcher-tint to be either pleasing or picturesque,
was still both neat and clean.
The first place we visited was the bakery, and on our way thither we passed women
carrying large black baskets of coal, and engaged in what is termed the " coal service " in
the yard.
The bakery was a pleasant and large light building, adjoining the kitchen, and here we
found more females, in light blue gowns, at work on the large dresser, with an immense heap
of dough that lay before them like a huge drab-coloured feather-bed, and with the master baker
in his flannel jacket standing beside the oven watching the work. Some of the female prisoners
were working the dough, that yielded to their pressure like an air-cushion ; and some were
cutting off pieces and weighing them in the scales before them, and then tossing them over
to others, who moulded them into the form of dumplings, or smaU loaves.
At the end of the bakery was the large prison kitchen, where stood kind of beer-trays-—
such as the London pot-boys use for the conveyance of the mid-day and nocturnal porter to
the houses in the neighbourhood. These trays at Brixton, however, served for the conveyance
of the dinner-cans to the several parts of the prison, whilst the huge, bright, spouted tin beer-
cans that stood beside them were used for the dispensation of the cocoa that was now steaming
in the adjoining coppers, and being served out by more prisoners, ready against the breakfast-
hour, at half-past seven.f
* We may add here, that the Brixton County House of Correction, according to Brayley's History oj
Surrey, was erected in 1819-20, for the reception and imprisonment of offenders sentenced to hard
labour, either at the county assizes or sessions, or summarily convicted before a magistrate. "The
boundary-wall," says the county historian, " is about twenty feet in height, the upper part being of open
brick-work, and encloses about two and a half acres of ground. This prison is chiefly formed by a semi-
octagonal building, having a chapel in the centre, in front of which, but separated by a yard, is the tread¬
mill, which was formerly more than sufficiently notorious from the severity of its application."
The total cost of the building, together with the sum paid for the purchase of the land and erection
of the treadmill, was, we are informed by Mr. Woronzow Greig, the obliging clerk of the peace for Surrey,
£51,780 17«. 7rf., whilst the sum paid for the construction of the mill itself was £6,913 3«. 6<f,
t For breakfast the ordinary prison diet consists of 6 ounces of bread, and | pint of cocoa to each prisoner,
whilst those engaged in the labour of the laundry, bakehouse, &c., are severally allowed 8 ounces of bread
and one pint of cocoa.
For dinner the prison allowance is 4 ounces of cooked meat, | pint of soup, with § pound of potatoes and
6 ounces of bread, whilst the labourers get each 5 ounces of meat, and 1 pint of soup, with 1 pound of pota-
13
184
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
The Serving of the IHnnert at Brixton.—We -were present at the serving of the dinners
in this establishment, -which were dispensed after the folio-wing manner :—
At a few minutes before one o'clock the "breads" are counted out into large -wicker baskets,
in the shape of those used for dinner-plates, while the tin cans—^which, like those at Penton-
ville, have a partition in tho middle, similar to the ones carried by bill-stickers—being filled
with soup and meat on one side, and potatoes on the other, are ranged in large potboy-hke-
trays, which are inscribed with the letters of the several wards to which they appertain.
Precisely at one o'clock a bell is heard to ring, and then the matrons of the old prison
enter in rotation, each accompanied -with four prisoners, one of whom seizes one tray, while
two more of the gang go off with another that is hea-vier laden, and the last hurries off -with
the basket of bread, with an officer at her heels.
After this, large trucks are brought in, and when stowed with the trays and bread¬
baskets for the " -wings," they are -wheeled off by the attendant prisoners, one woman,
dragging in front, and the others pushing behind.
We followed the two trucks that went to the east -wing of the prison, and here we found
a small crowd of women waiting, -with the matrons at the door, ready to receive the trays as
the vehicles were unladen. " That's ours !" cried one of the female officers in attendance
and immediately the prisoners beside her seized the tray with the basket of bread, and went
off -with it, as if they were so many pot-girls carrying round the beer.
Then a large bell clattered through the building, and one of the warders screamed at the
top of her voice, " 0 Lord, bless this food to our use, and us to thy service, through Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen !"
No sooner was the grace ended, than the officers of the several wards went along the
galleries, opening each cell-door by the way, -with three or four prisoners in their wake,
carrying the -trays. The cell being opened, the matron handed in the bread from the basket
which one of the prisoners carried, and then a can of soup from the tray, the door being closed
again immediately afterwards, so that the arcade rang with the unlocking and slamming of
the doors in the several galleries. When the dinners were all served, the cell-doors were
double locked, and then another bell rang for silence ; after which, any prisoner talking, we
were told, would be reported to the superintendent for breach of rules.
The distribution of the dinners was at once rapid and orderly, and refiected no slight
credit upon the several ladies who are engaged in the conduct of the prison for the almost
military precision with which the duty was carried out.
A curious part of the process consisted in the distribution of the knives before dinner,
and collection of them afterwards. For the latter purpose, one of the best-conducted
prisoners goes roimd -with a box, a matron foUo-wing in her steps, and then the knives,
ready cleaned, are put out under the door. These are all coimted, and locked up in
store for the next day. But if one of the number be short, the prisoners are not let out of
their cells tiU the missing knife be found, each con-vict and ceE being separately searched,
with a -view to its discovery.
During the dinner hour we went over to the infirmary kitchen, to see how the sick pri-
toes and 6 ounces of bread—the convalescents ha-ving the same as the labourers, -with the exception of being
served -with mutton instead of beef.
For supper, on the other hand, the labourers and convalescents have each 8 ounces of bread and 1
pint of tea, whilst the laundry-women have all IJ ounce of cheese in addition—the ordinary prison diet for
the same meal consisting of a pint of gruel and 8 ounces of bread for the No. 3 women, as they are called (i.e.,
the third-class prisoners) ; whilst the No. 2 women get the same allowance of gruel and bread four times in
the week, and a pint of tea instead of gruel three times in the week ; and the No. 1 women a pint of tea
every night.
This dietary scale is very nearly the same as that at Pentonville, with the exception that the prisoners
there get 1 lb. of potatoes instead of } lb., as at Brixton.
THE FEMALE COF\riCT PEISOH AT BEIXTON.
185
soners fared in Brixton. Here we found the cook busily serving out a small piece of boiled
cod for some who bad been ordered to be placed on fisb diet, and dishing up some mutton
chops for others. Then there were poached eggs for a few, and a batter-pudding and some
rice-milk for some of the other invalids; so that it was plain the majority of the poor
creatures fared more sumptuously under their punishment than they possibly could have
done outside the prison walls.
*jf* &eremng at Brixton.—The airing yards at this prison have little of the bare
gravel school play-ground character, so common with those at the other jails, for here there
are grass-plots and flower-beds, so that, were it not for the series of mad-hoTise-like windows
piercing the prison walls, a walk in the exercising grounds of Brixton would be pleasant
and unprison-Hke enough.
The prisoners exercise principally for one hour—from eight till nine; the laundry-
women, however, whose work is laborious, walk for oidy half the usual time.
It is a somewhat curious and interesting sight to see near upon two hundred female
convicts pacing in couples round and roimd the Brixton exercising yards, and chattering as
they go like a large school, so that the yard positively rings as if it were a market-place
with the gabbling of the many tongues ; indeed, the sight of the convicts, filing along in
couples, reminds one of the charity children parading through the streets, for the prisoners
are dressed in the same plain straw bonnets, and not only have a hke cleanly and neat look,
but are equally remarkable for the tidiness of their shoes and stockings. {^See engraving.)
As we stood, with the principal matron still attending us, watching the prisoners pace
round and round, like a cavalcade at a circus, while the warders on duty cried, " Hasten on
there,' women—Chasten on !" our intelligent and communicative guide ran over to us the
peculiarities of the several convicts as they passed.
"Those you see exercising there, in the inner ring, sir," she said, "are the invalids, and
we let them walk at a slower pace. This one coming towards us," she whispered, "is in for
life, for the murder of her child. You wouldn't think it, would you, sir, to look at her ?"
and assuredly there was no trace of brutal ferocity in her countenance. " Her conduct here
has been always excellent—she's as gentle as a lamb ; I really think she's sincerely penitent."
" That one now approaching us," she added, "is one of the worst tempered girls in the
whole prison. By her smile, you would take her to be the very opposite to what she is."
" Yonder woman," continued the matron, " is one of the best we have here, and yet
she's in for biting off a man's ear; but the man had been trying to injure her very much
before she was roused to it. They are mostly aU in for thieving, and, generally speaking,
they have led the most abandoned lives."
The truth of the last remark was evident in the smiles and shamelessness of many; for,
as they paraded past us, not a few stared in our face with all the brazen look of the streets,
and yet many of their countenances were almost beautiful, so that it was difficult to believe
that there was any deep-rooted evil in their hearts.
" It is.curious, sir, the vanity of many of these women," whispered our intelligent guide.
" Those straw bonnets none of them can bear, and it is as much as ever we can do to make
them put them on when they are going to see the doctor. They think they look much
better in their caps. One woman, I give you my word, took the ropes off her hammock and
put them round the bottom of her dress so as to make the skirt seem fuller. Another we
had filled her gown with coals round the bottom for the same object ; and others, again,
have taken the wire from round the dinner cans and used it as stiffners to their stays.
One actually took the tinfoil from imder the buttons, and made it into a ring. You
would hardly believe it, perhaps, but I have known women scrape the walls of their cells
and use the powder of the whitewash to whiten their complexion. Indeed, there is hardly
any trick they would not be at if we did not keep a sharp eye upon them."
18'
186
THE GKEAT WORLD OF LONDOH.
*#* The Chapel at Brixton Prison.—The littie church for the female convicts is at once
simple and handsome in its internal decorations. The roof, which is of oak, bears a rude
resemblance to that of Westminster Hall, ornamented as it is with its brown " hammer-
beams " and " collar-beams;" and when the sittings are fiUed with the convict-congregation,
habited in their dark claret gowns and clean white caps, we hardly know a prettier or a more
touching sight in the world ; for the suspicion of hypocrisy that lurks in the mind, despite
the apparent fervour of the prisoners at Pentonville, serves greatly to lessen our sympathy
with the contrition of the criminals there. We all know, however, that women are naturally
not only less skilled in simulation and cunning, but of a more religious and ardent tempera¬
ment than men, so that we no sooner hear the confessions of sin and supplications for mercy
uttered in the general responses of these wretched unfortunates, than it becomes impossible
to withhold our commiseration, or to refrain from adding our own prayer for their forgive¬
ness to the one common cry.
Moreover, never did we see a congregation more zealous and apparently truthful in their
devotions, for though we ourselves were, with the exception of the gate-keeper and the
minister, the only male among the number there assembled, and a stranger to the place,
nevertheless our presence served in no way to take the attention of the women from their
books ; and we could tell, by the fixedness of their gaze upon the chaplain during his dis¬
course, how intent they all were upon his precepts and teachings.
Hor was it any wonder, to those who had previously witnessed the feeling which existed
between the minister and the prisoners at Brixton, that the convicts should hang upon his
every word as children listen, in purest faith, to all that falls from a father's lips.
We had gone over the prison in company with the chaplain himself, and noted, long
before the service commenced, that he was esteemed as a kind and dear friend by every
one of the wretched inmates there. The smile in each countenance as he passed, the sparkle
in every eye, and the confiding look of all into his face, told us that the vsretched women
clung, in their sins, to him who was their protector against the fury of the world without—
even as the adulterous woman sought shelter from the wrath of her assailants in the loving-
kindness of Christ himself.
As the chaplain accompanied us on our roimds, we soon saw that his was no mere pro¬
fession of Christian duty, and that those he had imdertaken to watch over and lead into new
and happier paths he took no common interest in^being acquainted with almost all the mem¬
bers of their family, and speaking first to this one of her mother, and then to another of
her son, while to a third he told how some old feUow-prisoner whose time had recently
expired, was doing well, and in a comfortable situation at last.
Hor was it only the chaplain himself who was thus friendly with the inmates
of the jaü, for every member of his youthful family was equaUy well known, and, one could
see at a glance, equally beloved by them aU ; the young people had evidently made them¬
selves acquninted with the history of each wretched woman under their father's care, and
whUe the sons displayed no little interest in the chaplain's duty, the daughter spoke of the
poor fallen women with exquisite tenderness, and delighted to recount to us how some of
the convicts had been reclaimed, and how little the world really knew of the trials and
temptations of such characters. Indeed, we never met with a finer and nobler instance
of Christian charity than we here found practised daüy by this most righteous and
unassuming family.
"Reports" Punishments, and Refractory Cells at Brixton.—We requested permission of
Mrs. Martin, the superintendent, to be present during her examination of the prisoners who
had been reported for misconduct. The superintendent sat at her desk, in the principal office
of the argus or octagonal house, in the centre of the prison yard, and gave directi®is to the
matron in attendance to bring in the first prispner who l^ad been reported.
THE EEMAXE CONVICT PEISON AT BKIXTON.
187
" This," said the superintendent to us, awaiting the return of the matron with the
woman, " is a case of quarreling and fighting between two of the prisoners—a charge that,
I am sorry to say, is by no means unusual here."
Presently the door opened, and the matron brought in a prisoner whose features and
complexion were those of a creóle, and who was habited in the blue dress of the laundry-
women.
" How is it, prisoner," inquired the lady governor, "that you are brought here again?"
" Well, mmn," replied the woman, as she shook her head with considerable emotion,
and drew near to the table of the superintendent, "I couldn't stand it no longer! She offered
to strike me three times afore ever I touched a hair of her head—that she did, mum ; and
as my liberty hadn't come, you know, mum—" and the half-caste was about to enter into a
long explanation on the latter part of the subject, when she was stopped by the lady
saying, " Yes, I know ; and I make great allowance for you."
" I was sure you would, mum," briskly replied the woman ; " she called me a ."
" Oh, dear me !—^there, I don't want to hear what was said," again interrupted the
superintendent. " Well, I shall not punish you until I have looked into the affair ; so you
may go back to your work."
" Thank you, mum," and the prisoner curtseyed, as she left the room with the matron ;
whereupon, immediately afterwards, another convict was ushered in.
" You have been behaving very ül, I hear," said the superintendent.
" I'm very sorry," was the prisoner's .reply ; " but I'm a woman as doesn't like
quarreling."
" There, don't say that ; for I have your name down here rather often ! " returned
the superintendent ; " besides, my officer tells me that you were at fault, so I shall punish
you by stopping your dinner."
" These are all the refractory cases," said the female officer, as the prisoner curtseyed
and left the room ; " but there are three women who wish to speak with you, ma'am."
"Very well, bring them in," said the superintendent.
The first of these was a young Scotch girl, who said that she came about her letters,
and^that she hadn't got her letters, though her mother had written her several letters,
but that all her letters had been kept back. Whereupon the superintendent explained to
her that she was only allowed to receive and write one every two months ; and on the
female clerk being consulted as to the niunber the girl had received, the answer returned
was that she had been permitted to have three within the stated time ; so the prisoner left
the room muttering that the letters were from her mother, and that she wanted her letters,
and no one had a right to keep back her letters.
" That girl," said the superintendent, "has got ten years, and is very irritable tmder it ;
indeed, I often think the women make up the cases for the sake of coming here and getting
a little variety to their Ufe."
The second prisoner seeking an interview with the superintendent, was likewise a Scotch
woman, and she also came to speak about her letters. " You gave me permission, mum, to
write to my son," said the convict j "he'scome home from Balaklava, and gone to Bombay
since." " Well," was the answer, " if I did, you must leave the letter here and I wiU see
about sending it for you." "Bless you, mum 1" said the old woman, as she hobbled, with
repeated curtseys, out of the room.
The last woman seeking an interview was one who came to know about being recom¬
mended for her ticket-of-leave. " The women that got their badges at the same timp as me
has had their liberty already, please mum," urged the prisoner. Whereupon the superin¬
tendent asked the woman whom she had got to receive her when she was let out. " My
sister," Ipas the answer. "And how do you mean to support yourself?" "Oh, please
mum, my sister says she'U get me into service," replied the prisoner, curtseying. "I
188
THE GKEAT WOHLD OF LONDOH.
hope you -will do well," was the kind-hearted exclamation of the superintendent ; " and your
recommendation shall be sent up next time."
"Is that all, MissDoimeUy?" the lady-governor asked, as the prisoner retired thanking
her ; and being informed that she had seen all the applicants, the female officer was dismissed.
"We have sent away altogether upwards of 200 women on ticket-of-leave, and only
4 have come back," said the lady, in answer to a question from us, "and even with
those four we can hardly believe them to be guilty ; the police are so sharp with the poor
things. When they are brought back to me here, the women feel dreadfully ashamed of
themselves, and one was the very picture of despair. She's the mother of twins, and has
attempted her life several times since. The police are very severe with them, I think ; and
I can't help feeling an interest in the wretched creatures, just as if they were children of
my own. Last night I was obliged to order handcuffs to be put on the ticket-of-leave woman
who has just been sent back to us ; she had commenced breaking her windows, and threatened
to assault her officer. This re-commitment has made her quite different, and I think the
state of her mind is very doubtful now. When I first came here," continued the lady, "I'm
sure it was like Kving in another planet. As a clergyman's wife, I used to see aU kinds
of people of course, but never any like these. Oh, they are most peculiar ! There are
many of them subject to fits of the most ungovernable fury ; very often there is no caiise
at all for their passion except their own morbid spirits ; perhaps their friends haven't
written, so they'll sit and work themselves up into a state of almost frenzy, and when
the officer comes they will give way. Sometimes they know when the fit is coming on, and
will themselves ask to be locked up in the refractory wards.
"When they are in these fits they're terribly violent indeed," the superintendent
went on ; " they tear up and break everything they can lay their hands on. The other day
one of the prisoners not only broke all the windows in her cell, but tore aU her bed-clothes
into ribbons, and pulled open her bed and tossed aU t^e coir in a heap on the floor ;
and then she wrenched off the gas-jet, and so managed to pull down the triangular iron
shelf that is fixed into the wall at one comer of the cell. When the prisoners work
themselves up to such a state as that, we're generally obliged to call the male officers
to them. The younger they are the worse they behave. The most violent age, I thinV,
is from seventeen to two or three and twenty—indeed, they are tike fiends at that age
very often. But, really, I can hardly speak with certainty on the matter, the life is so
new to me. Often, when the prisoners have behaved very badly in one prison, they'll
be quite different on going to another ; a fresh place gives them an opportunity of turning
over a new leaf, I fancy. Oh, yes ! I find them very sensitive to family ties, and I'm
often touched myself to think such wicked creatures should have such tender feehngs.
The son of that old Scotch woman you saw here writes her the most beautiful letters,
and sends her all the money he can scrape together. Generally speaking, they have most
of them been previously convicted, and more than once; often, too, the very worst outside
are the best behaved in the prison—^that makes it so difficult to get situations for them."
Afterwards, in the course of an interview with the medical officer, we sought to ascer¬
tain whether any physical cause could be assigned for these sudden and violent outbursts
among the women. The surgeon informed us that he knew of no bodily or organic reason
to accoimt for them ; four per cent, of the whole of the prisoners, or 20 in 600 were subject
to such fits of violent passion, and these were almost invariably from fifteen to twenty-five
years of age. The elder women were equally bad in nature—perhaps worse—^but they did
not break the prison rules hko the younger ones. "Women, even in their most ftirious
moments," he told us, " seldom injure themselves or those around them, though they wiU
break their windows, and even occasionally tear their own clothing to ribbons."
On a subsequent occasion we spoke of these ungovernable bursts of violencllo a lady
friend of ours—one who was reaUy of an exceeding gentle nature ; and she frankly confessed
THE FEMALE COIfVICT PEISON AT BRIXTON.
189
that she could understand the luxTuy of smashing things in an overwhelming fit of temper.
" You men," she said, as she saw us smilo at her candour, " are stronger than we, and
therefore you vent your passions upon the people about you ; but women cannot do this
from their very weakness, and so those poor ignorant things who have never leamt seK-
control expend their fury upon the tables, chairs, and glasses, that are unable to turn upon
them—even as some husbands vent their passion on their wives, who are incapable of defending
themselves against them.
" Temper," she added, " is always cowardly, and wreaks itself only upon such things as
it fancies it can master."
At another part of the day we inspected the refractory cells, which are situate in the old
prison. These are six in number, and not quite dark, the screen before the windows being
pierced with holes ; for on entering one, and requesting that the double doors might be
closed upon us, we foimd we could see to vrnte after a few moments, when the eye had
grown accustomed to the darkness ; and it was curious to watch how each part of the cell
that was invisible at first started into sight after a few minutes. Then we could see that
there was the same rude wooden couch, with the sloping head-piece, on the floor as in others,
and a large air-hole, from the passage near the ceiling, for the ventilation of the cell.
There were also the "hoppered cells," where those women are put who are accustomed
to break the windows, or to speak or look out of them—the hopper being a slanting iron
screen in front of the casement, so called from its resemblance to that wedge-shaped
trough in a mill into which the com is put to be groimd. Six of these cells were without
glass and six with, whilst one was constmcted upon a new plan, and had a perforated zinc
screen to prevent the women smashing the windows.
" The punishments," says the Brixton chaplain, in his report for 1854, " are apparently
numerous ; but a careful inspection of the misconduct-book will prove that most of them have
been inflicted upon the same persons, and that the great body of the prisoners has not been
subjected to any punishment at aU. Violence of temper is one great evil with female
prisoners : they are so easily excited, and so subject to sudden impulses, that it is very painful
to consider what misery they bring upon themselves, owing to the influence of bad temper."*
*#* The Comiet Nursery at Brixton.—^The most touching portion of the female convict
prison, and what distinguishes it essentially from all the penal institutions appropriated to
male prisoners, is that which forms the heading of the present portion of our description
of the internal economy of the Brixton establishment.
To those who know the early life and education of the habitual criminal—^who know how,
in many cases, he was bom among thieves, reared and schooled among thieves, and thieves
only—^how he was begotten, perhaps, by a convict father, and nursed by a felon mother, and
• The following list is extracted from the last published Report of the Directors of Convict Prisons :—
KETTON OP PUNISHMENTS AX THE PEMAIE CONVICT PRISON, 1854.
In Handcuffs . . . . _
- 31
Confined to Cell ....
- 34
Straight Waistcoat - - - -
1
Withdrawn from Association
■ 70
Refractory CeU '
t Bread and Water
- 141
Reprimanded ......
- 257
- 147
Admonished .....
- 171
On Bread and Water Diet - - -
- 92
Hot punished on Special Grounds
- 19
Deprived of One Meal or Part of a Meal
- 246
Total
- 1209
By the above table it will be seen that the most frequent punishment resorted to was confinement in the
refractory cell, of which there were 288 cases in the course of the year. That the next punishment in the
order of frequency was a simple reprimand, of which there were 257 cases, whilst the chastisement, of
whmh the number of cases stood next in the list, was the deprivation of a meal, or part of a meal, and of
which tuBte were 246 instanceSi The more serious impositions, such as handcuffs and straight waistcoat,
were comparatively limited.
190
THE GHEAT WORLD OF LOITDOH.
trained, too, at the earliest age to dishonest practices by light-fingered tutors, as regularly
as our children are disciplined into virtuous courses—how he was taught by his companiona
in crime to look upon the greatest ruffian as the greatest hero ; and how with the vagabond
and wayward class, from whom his paradoxical morals have been derived, the plundering of
the industrious portion of society is regarded as a part of virtue, if not religion—(for the
gipsy says to her child, " And now, having said your prayers, go out and steal," even as
the Thug ofiers up his worship to Kalee, before starting to ensnare and murder his victim)—
and how, moreover, your true hereditary criminal has leamt from his earliest childhood to
admire and approve of only feats of low cunning, and that brute courage, which his class
terms "pluck;" and to believe that to "do your neighbour, as your neighbour would ¿o
you," constitutes the real summum lonum of life ; he, we repeat, who knows this, and who
knows, moreover, that there are distinct races of outcasts and wanderers, moved by the very
opposite philosophy and principles to that which we and our children have, as Christians,
been taught to revere, must surely feel, that had it been his lot to have been bom and bred
among such tribes, his own conscience would, most probably, have been as warped and
tainted as that of those he has leamt to condemn, if not to loathe ; and feeling this, the
first great lesson of toleration, viz., that even his own individual exemption from jaü is
due rather to the accident of his birth and parentage, than to any special merit on his part,
he cannot but in his heart get to pity the poor wretches who have been less lucky in the
lottery of Ufe than he.
But this is mere sentimentaUty, the stemer reader wiU perhaps exclaim—^maudling
philanthropy, that comes of the prevailing morbid desire to cuddle and caress creatures whom
we, in our honest indignation, should shun and despise. Those who think thus, we answer,
should visit Brixton prison, and see the Uttle babes there, clinging to their convict mothers'
skirts, or playing with their rag-doUs in the convict nursery ; and then ask themselves what
fate they think can await the wretched little things that have made so bad a start in the great
race of Ufe. "WiU not the goal they afe destined probably to reach have the vowels trans¬
posed, and be written gaol instead ?—^for even though now they be, as the Great Teacher
said, " types of the kingdom of heaven," and with an almost angel-innocence beaming in their
pretty Uttle cherub faces, is it not most Ukely that, in after life, those who drew their first
breath inside the prison waUs wiU come to breathe their last gasp there also ? Is this so-
caUed Christian country sufficiently enlightened and charitable yet, think you, to aUow such
as they the same chance of success in the world as honest men's children ? Wül they meet
with no gibes in years to come, for their felon extraction? Would you, reader, like to take
them into your household and your family, when they grow up, to tend your own Uttle ones ?
And if aU the arrogant prejudices of society be at war with their advancement, think you
they wül live at peace with the rest of mankind ; or that they can possibly find in after Ufe
that honesty is the best policy, when almost every one is prepared to deny them the
privUege of labouring for their Uvelihood—or, in other words, the very means of practising
the virtus ?
" This," said our attendant, as we entered the pathetic place, while the matron led the
first babe she met towards us, " is Uttle Eliza ; she was born in the jaü at York, and is
rather better than two years old."
The tiny creature hung its head, and struggled to get back to its mother, as we stooped
down and held our hand out towards it ; but the little thing had long been accustomed to see no
man's face but that of the chaplain and the surgeon, so it screamed to get farther from us, the
nearer we drew towards it. She was a pretty gray-eyed chüd, and dressed the same as the
other infants in the room, in a spotted blue frock—the eomiet lahy-chthes. The mother of
this one was the wife of a labouring man, and condemned to five years' imprisonment.
With the tears stinging our eyes, we passed on to the next Uttle innocent—innocent for
how long ? 8he was caUed Jeanie, and was nearly two years and a half old ; she had been
FEMALE COA'VICTS EXERCISING IN THE AIRING YARD AT BRIXTON BRISON.
(Irom a Photograph by Uerbcrt Watkins, 179, Regent Street )
THE FEMALE COimCT PEISOH AT BEIXTOH.
191
born in Glasgow prison ; the mother was unmarried, and sentenced to four years' penal ser¬
vitude.
Little Sarah, the next we turned to, was a poor, white-faced infant, that had been bom
in Brixton prison itself seven months ago, and was sickly with its teething. The mother had
to suffer four years' penal servitude, and was married to a private in the Fusilier Guards, but
had not heard from him since her conviction.
The next babe was younger still, having been bom in Brixton on the 7 th of February
last. This was a boy, and named Thomas. The mother was unmarried, and had four years'
penal servitude to undergo.
Martha was the name of the next convict child ; and she was a fair-haired, fresh-cheeked,
pretty little thing, rather more than two years old, and asleep in the prison bed.
" That is the most timid child I ever met with," said the kind-hearted matron, who
accompanied us throughout the day. " She was bom in Lincoln Castle, and the mother—■
(" She's unmarried, sir," whispered the officer, apart, to us, as we jotted down the facts in
our note-book)—has ten years' transportation, and »ore than seven years still to serve."
"Ah! sh^'s a sad romp," said our attendant, as we passed on to another child—Annie,
she was called. She was tottering along, as she held her mother's finger. " She's two
years and three months on the 2l8t of May, sir," said the mother, in answer to our
question, "and was bom in Lewes jaü. I've got six years' penal servitude." Poor
Annie ! we inwardly exclaimed ; for she was a clean, flaxen-haired, laughing little thing,
that smiled as she looked up into our face. " Hot married ! " added the wretched mother,
timidly.
At this moment the chaplain entered, when several of the little things toddled off towards
the good man, and he raised them in his arms, and kissed them one after another. "Oh 1 I
saw Tomm3-'s mother, the other day," said he to one of the women, in reference to an old
prisoner who had obtained her liberty. " She's been doing very nicely. Tommy's been rather
poorly, though. I hope I shall be able to get her another situation."
" There, you see," said the minister, turning to lis, and pointing to the tins on an
adjacent table, " is the nursery breakfast. There's a pint of milk for each child, and tea for
the mothers."
As we left, the matron whispered to us that the pictures for the children, hanging up
against the wall, were given by the clergyman. And when we retumed to the nursery, later
in the day, we found the mothers at work at some new frocks that the chaplain's daughter
had presented to the poor little things.
" There's one apiece all round, baby and all," said the matron, as she held up a tiny fiuck
that was finished, by the little short sleeves. It was a neat chintz pattern, that was at once
serviceable and pretty. " They'd only those white-spotted blue things before, sir."
At another part of the day we spoke with the chaplain himself concerning the prison
regulations upon such matters, and then he told us that at one time there had been as many
as thirty children in that establishment ; but lately the Secretary of State had issued an order
forbidding them to receive children from other prisons. " If the child be bom here it is to
stay with the mother—^how long I cannot say," added the minister, " but if bom in jail
before? the mother comes here, it is to be sent to the Union immediately she is ordered to be
removed to this prison. 'We never had a child older than four years, but at MiUbank
one little thing had been kept so long incarcerated, that on going out of the prison it called
a horse a cat. The little girl that we had here of four years of age, my children used to
take to the Sunday school, so that she might mix a little with the world, for she used to
exclaim, when she was taken out into the road and saw a horse go by, ' look at that great
big doggie.' "
There is, indeed, no place in which there is so much toleration, and true wisdom, if not
goodness, to be leamt, as in the convict nursery at Brixton !
192
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
WASH-HOUSE AT THE BKIXTON PRISON.
The Delivery of the Prmn Letters.—A. letter, at aU times, is more highly prized by
women than men. The reason is obvious. The letters addressed to males are more frequently
upon purely business matters, so that after a time the sight of such documents conjures up
no pleasant association in men's minds; whereas the letters of females are, generally, so
intimately connected with matters of pleasure, and so often with the outpourings of affec¬
tion from friends or relations, that the very sight of an envelope hearing their name and
address is sufficient to excite in them not only the most lively emotions, but the most
intense curiosity.
Towards the evening of the day of our visit to Brixton prison, the chaplain's clerk (who,
be it observed, was no serious-looking gentleman in dingy black, but an intelligent and
pleasant-looking young woman, who, in the female prison, combines with the clerk's
duty the equally male office of general postman) came towards us with a bundle of letters,
and asked us whether we would like to accompany her on her roimds. "It's one of the
pleasantest duties, sir, that we have to perform here," said the considerate post-woman ;
" and no one knows but ourselves how the poor prisoners look forward to the arrival
of their letters. Day after day they'll ask me to be sure and bring them one soon, as if I
could make them quicker."
We told the clerk, as we walked along with her towards one of the wings, that we had
that morning had evidence as to the anxiety the prisoners felt about receiving letters from their
friends. " Ah, that they do," she returned ; " and if the letter doesn't come just when the
time is due for getting it, they'll sit and mope over it day after day, and work themselves
up at last into such a violent fuiy, that they'U break and tear up everything about them."
THE FEMALE CONVICT PRISON AT BRIXTON.
193
IRONING-KOOM AT THE BRIXTON PRISON.
By this time we had reached the cell in the west wing, to which the first letter was
addressed. The women were locked up in their cells during tea-time, and the clerk, placing
her mouth close agaiust the door, called the name of the prisoner located within.
" Tes, mum," was the answer that came from the cell.
" Here's a letter for you," added the clerk, as she stooped down and threw the docu¬
ment imder the door., In a moment after there was a positive scream of delight within,
followed by a cry of " Oh ! how glad I am." Then we could hear the poor creature tear
open the sheet, and begin mumbling the contents to herself in half hysteric torses.
The clerk had hurried on her roimds, while we stood listening by the door, and she
remained waiting for us outside the cell of the next prisoner on her list. " Sheridan," she
whispered. " Yes, mum," was the rapid reply, as if the inmate of the cell recognized the
welcome voice, and anticipated what was coming. Then the letter was slid under the
doorway, as before, and this was followed by a simple exclamation of "Oh ! thnuV you,
mum !"
" The last prisoner," said the clerk, as she now hastened off towards the laundry, "has more
friends in the world than the other, and that is why she received her letter so differently."
In the laundry, the prisoner to whom the letter was given smiled gratefully in the clerk's
face, as she thrust it into her bosom. " Can you read it ?" inquired the letter-carrier, who
seemed almost as delighted as the prisoner herself. " Oh, yes, mum, thftuTr you," replied
the woman; and she humed to the other end of the wash-house, to enjoy its contents quietly
by herself.
Then three more letters were delivered, one to a prisoner in the kitchen, an^ the others
194
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOJSDOH.
to women in the east wing. After that, we followed the clerk across the yard to the
infirmary, where the last letter was g^ven to the head-nurse.
" I never deliver the letters myself here," added the thoughtful and tender-hearted clerk,
" because I don't know the state of health the prisoners may he in, and I'm afraid of
exciting them too much."
As a further example of the store set by the female prisoners upon the letters they
receive from their relatives and friends, we may mention that there is hardly a cell that is
not furnished with some fancy letter-bag, worked by the prisoner, in the form of a large
watch-pocket; and we were assured that the documents treasured in such hags are
prized as highly as if they were so much bank-paper, and that in the moments of sadness
which overcome prisoners, they were invariably withdrawn and read—^perhaps for the
hundredth time—as the only consolation left them in their fiiendlessness and afBLLction.
*#* Female Convict Labour at Brixton.—The work done by the women prisoners is,
of course, of a different character to that performed either at PentonviUe or the hulks.
The tailoring at the former establishment gives place to the more appropriate shirt-making,
hemming flannels, and stitching stays, &c. ; while the hard labour of the prisoners working
in the arsenal and dockyard is here replaced by the more feminine occupation of the
laundry.*
The laundry at the Brixton prison is no mean establishment. Here the majority of
the women whom we have before met in our rounds, habited in their light-blue checked
over-dresses, are found, standing on wooden gratings, washing away at the wooden troughs
ranged roimd the spacious wash-house which forms the lower part of the building. Here
some, with their bare red arms, are working the soddened flannels against a wooden grooved
board that is used to save the rubbing of the clothes, while the tops of the troughs are
white and iridescent with the clouds of suds within them. Two women in the centre are
turning the handles of the wringing machine that, as the box in which the wet clothes are
placed spins round and round, drains the newly-washed linen of its moisture by the mere
action of the centrifugal force. In one part is a large wooden boiler heated by steam, and
scattered about the place are tubs fall of brown wet sheets, large baskets of blankets, and
piles of tripey-looking flannels ; whilst a dense white mist of steam pervades the entire
atmosphere, and the floors are as wet and sloppy as the streets of a Dutch town on a Friday.
From the wash-house we ascended to the drying-rooms over-head, and here one of the
doors of what seemed to be a huge press was thrown open, and an immense clothes'-horse
drawn out, with rows of unbleached towels and blankets across its rails, while the blast of
hot air that rushed forth was even more unpleasant than the dampness of the atmosphere
below. Hence we passed into the ironing-room, and as we approached the place, we knew
• It is at Brixton that all the clothes are washed for the 350 and odd prisoners confined at PentonviUe,
and the 820 in Millhank, as weU as the linen of the 688 convicts in Brixton prison itself ; so that altogether
the women in the laundry have to supply clean clothing every week for some 1800 persons. Hence, we arc
barely surprised, when we read in the return of the work done, that there were more than half a miUion
pieces washed at Brixton in the course of the year 1864. Besides this, we find the prisoners made up during
the same time more than 20,000 shirts, and nearly 10,000 flannel drawers and waistcoats, 1,200 shifts, 3,500
petticoats, 5,700 sheets, 2,000 caps, 3,700 pocket-handkerchiefs, 2,800 aprons, 2,300 neckerchiefs, 1,200
jackets, and just upon 3,400 towels ; so that the gross value of their united labour was estimated at very
nearly £1,800. The scale of gratuities paid to convicts at Brixton is nearly the same as that of other prisons
those in the second class receiving from 6<f. to 8if. per week, and those in the first from 8d. to 1». per week,
according to their industry.
The expenses of the prison, on the other hand, were upwards of £15,700—the cost of the ofiScers,
clerks, and servants being very nearly £3,900 ; that of victualling the prisoners amounting to£3,000 and
odd, while their clothing and bedding came to very nearly £3,000, and the fuel and light for the prison to
upwards of £1,200.
THE FEMALE COISTVICT PRISOJST AT BKIXTOH.
195
by the smell of burnt flannel the nature of the occupation carried on within. Here
were gas-stoves for heating the irons, the ordinary grates being found.too hot for the
summer, and there was a large blanketed dresser, at which a crowd of clean-looking women
were at work, in very white aprons, while the place resounded with the continued click of
the irons returned every now and then to their metal stands. On the floor stood baskets of
newly-ironed clothes, and plaited, and looking positively like so much moulded snow;
whilst, over-head, might be heard the rumbling of the mangles at work on the upper floor.
From eleven till twelve, the women located in the wings pursue their needlework in
silence, and seated at their doors ; and then it is a most peculiar sight to see the two hundred
female convicts ranged along the sides of the arcade, and in each of the three long balconies
that run one above the other round the entire building, so that, look which way you wiU,
on this side or on that, you behold nothing but long lines of convict women, each dressed alike,
in their clean white caps, and dark, claret-brown gowns, and all with their work upon their
knees, stitching away in the most startling silence, as if they were so many automata—■
the only noise, indeed, that is heard at such a time being the occasional tapping of one of the
matrons' hammers upon the metal stove, as she cries, " Silence there ! Keep silence, women !"■
to some prisoners she detects whispering at the other end of the ward. {See engrwuing.^
As we passed down the different wards, examining the work as we went, each woman rose
from her little stool, and curtseyed, while those on the other side stared, with no little
wonder at the object of our visit. Some were making flannels, and some shirts. " "We make
all the shirts for Portland, Pentonville, and MiUbank," said the matron, who still accom¬
panied us ; "but those blue-checked shirts are for Moses and Son ; we have had many scores
of pounds from them !" (Ko wonder, thought we, that honest women cannot live by the
labour of shirt-making, when such as these, who have neither rent, nor food, nor clothing to find,
are their competitors.) One of the convicts was engaged upon some open embroidery-
work. " She's in for life," whispered the matron, as we passed on—another was busy at a
beautiful crotchet collar, that was pronounced to be a rare specimen of such handiwork, the
flowers being raised, so that the pattern had more the appearance of being carved in ivory
than wrought in cotton. At the upper end of the long arcade stood one (who had evidently
belonged to a better class than her fellow-prisoners), cutting out a dress for one of the matrons.
We mounted the steps leading to the paddle-box-hke bridges that connect the opposite
galleries, and, as we walked along, the matron stiU drew our attention to the various articles
made by the women. " That one is engaged in knitting the prison hose ; the other is making
up the caps for the female convicts. This woman is considered to work very beautifully,"
added om guide, as she drew our attention to a sleeve in crotchet work, that looked rich and
light as point lace. "It's taken me nearly three weeks to do," said the prisoner, in
answer to the matron, " but then I have a room to clean, and to go to chapel twice a day^
besides." One was iU, and seated inside her ceU-door reading the "Leisure Hour,"
and on looking at the article that engaged her attention, we found it to be headed, " An inci¬
dent in the life of a French prisoner !"
From seven till eight in the evening the same silence and work go on ; but at this
period the women sit within their cells on their stools. The chaplain a^ompanied
us roxmd the building at this hour, and, as we passed along, the prisoners in the lower
cells rose one by one and curtseyed to the minister. While those in the galleries above
stretched their heads item out their cell-doors to see who were pacing the corridor below.
After this we passed into the passages of the old prison, and gently turning the " inspection
plate " of some of the cells of the women in separate confinement, peeped in unobserved
upon the inmates, and found some working, and others reading, but none, strange to say,
idling. Then we looked down into the " convalescent ward," and saw the women seated round
the fire-places on either side ; and after a time we returned to the west wing, as quietly as
196
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOKDOH.
possible, so as to avoid being heard by the prisoners; for the matron was anxions we
should witness the passage from silence to conversation that occurs precisely at eight here.
The corridor seemed to be entirely deserted, no form being visible but those of the
matrons on the cross-bridges above; while the place was so still that, as our attendant
said, "No one would believe there were a hundred and ninety-nine women at work
witliin it."
As we waited the arrival of the hour, we saw heads continually stretched out to look at
the clock at the end of the corridor ; and when the first stroke of the time-piece was heard,
the prisoners, one and aU, poured out of their cells with their stools in their hands, and
seated themselves in couples between their doors, whñe they placed their lamps on the
pavement at their feet, and commenced talking rapidly one to the other. This movement was
BO simultaneous that it seemed more like a pantomime-trick than a piece of prison discipline ;
while the chang.e from utter silence to the babbling of some two hundred tongues was so
immediate as to tell us, by the noise that pervaded every part of the huüding, how severe a
restraint had been imposed upon the prisoners.
Shortly after this the collection of the scissors began, amidst the continual tapping of the
cfiScial hammer against the stove, and the cry of the matrons, " You are talking too loud,
women! Make less noise, there!" The scissors, when collected, are strung one by one
upon a large circular wire, like herrings upon a rush, and then carried to the store-cell,
and locked up by the warder for the night.
In the west wing there is no further silence previously to retiring to rest. In the east
wing, however, prisoners are ordered to abstain from talking for a quarter of an hour before
the bell rings for bed.
We re-entered the latter wing precisely at half-past eight^just as the beU was ringing ;
the arcade was filled with the noise of shifting the stools, for during this term of silence the
women no longer sit in couples between their cells ; so they retired with their little wooden
seats, and placed themselves just within their doors, where they began reading.
The silence now was even more perfect than ever, and remained so till the bell commenced
ringing at the prison-gate, announcing the time to retire to rest. Then instantaneously the
prisoners, one and all, rose from their seats, and, seizing the stools, withdrew to their cells ;
and then putting out their brooms, they closed the doors after them, tUl the whole corridor
rang from end to end with the concussions.
This, again, was but the work of an instant, the act heing performed with military
precision, and in a minute or two afterwards the principal matron was seen travelling along
from cell to cell, and double locking every door herself.
In the other wing the same operations had gone on at the same time, and though it was
but five minutes after the quarter when we returned to it, we foimd all still and close for
the night.
It would not be right to close our account of the internal economy of this prison without
commending, more directly than we have yet done, the excellent manner in which the govern¬
ment and discipline of the institution is carried out by aR the lady-officers connected with
it—from the thoughtful and kind-hearted superintendent, down even to the considerate Kttle
poatwoman. Indeed, we left the establishment with a high sense of the kindness and care
that the female authorities exhibited towards the poor creatures under their charge, and it
is our duty to add, that we noted that all at Brixton was done more gently and feelingly,
and yet not less effectually, than at other prisons—the feminine qualities shining asçmiuently
in the cliaracter of warders as in that of nurses.
J^r^ilT^'^'illuj.'^ ''.Ii- •''"'^■ll-^S
Tff''^ya|tT^
FEMALE CONVICTS AT WOEK, DURING THE SILENT HOUR, IN BRIXTON PRISON,
(From a Pbütoeraph by Herbert ^Yatkrlrs, 179, Rceeut Street.)
14
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
197
H iü-
TEE ETJLKS AT WOOLWIGE.
Half an hom-'s-journey along the Horth Kent Railway, past the rising meadows near
Blaclcheath, and the bright toy villas, planted in the centre of the greenest conceivable lawns,
which make the neighbourhood of Charlton—then through a long dark tunnel—will deposit
the traveller within five minutes' walk of the Dockyard gates of Woolwich.
The sign of the public-house, " The Waeeioe," which shows a gaudy front close to the
station, suggests at once the proximity of the hulks. The lazy men, in cotton-velvet-fronted
waistcoats, leaning against the door-posts ; strong musters of very dingy children ; remark¬
ably low shops, exhibiting all kinds of goods at wonderfully cheap prices ; and street after
street of little houses, where the wives of the regularly employed dock labourers advertise
the nature of their industry in their parlour windows—indicate the neighbourhood of a
great industrial establishment..
Turning from the entrance of the Dockyard—opposite which is a flourishing public-house,
rejoicing in the suggestive sign of "The Old Sheee Hulk," which probably reminds
some of its customers of peculiarly "good old times"—and keeping the high, dark walls of
the yard on the left, the way lies past little shops and beer establishments on the right,
towards the arsenal. From the elevated churchyard, crowded with graves, the sharp outlines
of which are rounded by the waving of the uncut grass, the first view of the river, with the
flat Essex marshes beyond, is obtained. Here, immediately opposite the yard, rises the bulky
form of the great " Waerioe" hulk, which, the authorities declare, can hardly hold together.
Painted black and white, and with her naked and puny-looking spars degraded to the rank
of clothes-props for the convicts, she stands in curious contrast to the light steamers that
dance by her, and to the little sloops laden with war stores, and bound for Sheemess or
Portsmouth, that glide like summer flies upon the surface of the stream, almost under
her stem.
From the churchyard, veering to the right along the busy little High Street, the way lies
past a long line of shop windows, displaying capacious tea-pots, flanked by wondrously
variegated tea-cups, and offering tempting advantages to the lovers of " a comfortable tea."
A dead wall still further suggests the neighbourhood of the hulks ; for there the posting-bUl
of the "Woolwich theatre offers to the aspiring youth of the locality the lessons of " The
Chaih of Chime ; or, The Inn on Somslow Seath ! " Then, before the arsenal gates, which
are protected by three or four stem policemen, a broad avenue is seen at noon, marked by a
double row of women, standing with their arms a-kimbo, and with baskets of the freshest
and reddest-looking radishes upon the ground before them, waiting for the coming of the
labourers, who are about to leave the arsenal for dinner.
As we pass through the arsenal gate, noticing a long gun pointed right through the
portal, we are asked where we are going.
" To the ' Defence' Hulk," we answer.
Forthwith we are ushered into one of the lodges at the side of the gate, where our namo
address, and profession are inscribed in a police book. We are then fold to pass on to the
water's edge, where we shall find a policeman who will hail the hulk. Through groves of
tumbled wheels and masses of timber, past great square buildings, from the roofs of which
white feathers of steam, graceful as the "marabout," dart into the clear air, and through
the doors of which the glow of .fires and the dusky figures of men are seen, we go forward
to the flag-staff near the water's edge, and close to the bright little arsenal pier, with its
red lamps, and that long iron tube under it, through which the shells are sent to the sloops
moored alongside. A heavy mist lies upon the marshes on the opposite bank of the river ;
yet, in the distance, to the right of the " Dbfence," Barking Church is visible.
14'
198
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LOiNDOK.
The "Defence" and "Unité," moored head to head, with the bulky hammock-houses
reared upou their decks, their barred port-holes, and their rows of convicts' linen swinging
from between the stunted poles which now serve them as masts, have a sombre look. Prom
this point we can just see, nearly a mile farther down the river, the heavy form of the
""Waeeioh" moored close alongside the Dockyard, with the little, ugly "Stophub" (the
washing-ship) lying in the offing.
Meantime, the policeman, placing himself in a prominent position upon the pier, has
hailed the officer in the gangway of the "Defence ;" and in a few minutes afterwards a long
" gig," pulled by four convicts, in their brown dresses and glazed hats, parts from the hulk ;
and showing in the stem the stiff, dark form of an officer, steering directly for the landing-
place, upon which we are standing.
As the boat touches the shore, one of the convicts places a little mat upon the cushioned
seats, upon which we tread as we jump into the craft, telling the officer that we bear an order
for the governor. With wonderful precision the convict boatmen obey the orders of the
officer, and point the boat's bows back again to the gangway of the hulk.
In a few minutes we are aboard; and, as we pass up the gangway steps, we hear
one officer repeat to the other—"Por the governor!" And then a warder, with a bright
bunch of keys attached by a chain to his waist, conducts us to the governor's drawing-
room—a pretty apartment, where, from the stem-windows of the hulk, there is a very pic¬
turesque view of the river.
iii—a.
Tlie History of the Hulks.
The idea of converting old ships into prisons arose when, on the breaking out of the
American War of Independence, the transportation of our convicts to our transatlantic pos¬
sessions became an impossibility. Por the moment a good was effected, for the crowded
prisons were relieved ; but from the time when the pressure upon the prisons ceased,
down to the present, when the hulks may be said to be doomed, aU writers on penology
have agreed in condemning the use of old ships for the purposes of penal discipline.
If, however, we follow the wording of the 19th Geo. III., cap. 74, in which the use of
ships for prisons is referred to, we shall perceive that an idea of turning convict labour
to account, for cleansing the Thames and other navigable rivers, had probably directed
the attention of government to the possibility of arranging ships for their crowds of
convicts.*
The " JusiiTiA," an old Indiaman, and the " Censob," a frigate, were the first floating
prisons established in England. This system, though condemned by such men as Howard
and Sir William Elackstone,t was not only persevered in, but extended; till, on the 1st
A The section of the act referred to runs thus :—
" And, for the more severe and effectual punishment of atrocious and daring offenders, be it further enacted,
That, from and after the First Day of July, ono thousand seven hundred and seventy-nine, where any Male
Person . . . shall be lawfully convicted of Grand Larceny, or any other Crime, except Petty Larceny, for
which he shall be liable by Law to be transported to any Parts beyond the Seas, it shall and may be lawful
for the Court ... to order and adjudge that such Person . . . shall be punished by being kept on
Board Ships or Vessels properly accommodated for the Security, Employment, and Health of the Persons to be
confined therein, and by being employed in Hard Labour in the raising Sand, Soil, and Gravel from, and
cleansing, the River Thames, or any other River Navigable for Ships of Burthen," &c., &c.
t " London Prisons," by Hepworth Dixon, page 124.
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
199
of January, 1841, there were 3,552 convicts on board the various hulks in England.* In
1854 the numbers so confined had been reduced to 1298.
Some idea of the sanitary condition of these establishments, even so recently as 1841, may
be gathered from the report of Mr. Peter Bossy, surgeon of the " Waeeioe" hulk, off Wool¬
wich, Avhich shows that in that year, among 638 convicts on board, there were no less than
400 cases of admission to the hospital, and 38 deaths ! At this period there were no less
than 11 ships (including those stationed at Bermuda, and the "Euryalus," for juvenile
convicts) used by the British government for the purposes of penal discipline—if discipline
the then state of things could possibly be called.
There are stUl officers in the Woolwich hulks who remember a time when the " Justitia"
(a second "Justitia," brought from Chatham in 1829) contained no less than 700 convicts;
and when, at night, these men were fastened in their dens—a single warder being left on
board ship, in charge of them ! The state of morality under such circumstances may be easily
conceived—crimes impossible to be mentioned being commonly perpetrated.f Indeed we
* In 1841, the gross number of convicts received on board the bulks in England during the year was
3,625, and these were natives of the following countries, in the following proportion :—
3,108 were bom in England.
80 „ "Wales.
229 „ Scotland.
180 „ Ireland.
13 „ British Colonics.
15 ,, Foreign States.
Their occupations had been as follows
304 had been Agriculturists.
1,176 „ Mechanics and persons instmcted in manufactures.
1,986 ,, Labourers and persons not instructed in manufactures.
82 „ Domestic servants.
69 „ Clerks, shopmen, and persons employed confidentially.
8 „ Superior class, or men of education.
As regards the religion of these same 3,625 convicts, the subjoined are the statistics :—
2,934 belonged to the Established Church.
269 „ Boman Catholic ditto.
167 „ Scotch ditto.
245 were Dissenters.
9 „ Jews.
1 „ Of " another denomination."
Concerning their prison "antecedents"—
1,451 were first-offence men.
487 had been in prison before.
1,625 „ convicted before,
10 „ in penitentiary.
52 „ transported before.
Their ages were as follows :—
Lastly : —
3 were under 10 years old,
213 were from 10 to 15 years old.
958 „ 15 to 20 ,,
1,612 „ 20 to 30 „
839 were above 30 years old.
1,103 were married,
2,522 were single.
t Even so late as 1849, we find the "Unité," hospital ship at Woolwich, described in the following terms
" In the hospital ship, the ' Unité,' the great majority of the patients were infested with vermin ; and their
persons, in many instances, particularly their feef, begrimed with dirt. No regular supply of body-linen had
been issued ; so much so, that many men had been five weeks without a change ; and all record had been lost
of the time when the blankets had been washed ; and the number of sheets was so insuffieient, that the
200
THE GREAT WORLD CP LONDON.
were assured by one of the warders, who had served under the old hulk ''regime" that he
well remembers seeing the shirts of the prisoners, when hung out upon the rigging, so black
with vermin that the linen positively appeared to have been sprinkled over with pepper ; and
that when the cholera broke out on board the convict vessels for the first time, the chaplain
refused to bury the dead imtil there were several corpses aboard, so that the cofiins were
taken to the marshes by half a dozen at a time, and there interred at a given signal from the
clergyman ; his reverence remaining behind on the poop of the vessel, afraid to accompany
the bodies, reading the burial-service at the distance of a mile from the grave, and letting
fall a handkerchief, when he came to " ashes to ashes and dust to dust," as a sign that
they were to lower the bodies.
It was impossible that a state of things so scandalous could last ; and the successive
reports of tho directors of convict prisons are evidence of the anxiety with which they urged
upon the government the reform—if not the abandonment of the hulk system altogether ;
for, to the disadvantages inseparable from the conduct of prison discipline on board ship,
the governors of hulks were forced to add the rottenness of the vessels intrusted to them.
They were expected to govern five hundred convicts in a ship, the same as in a convenient
building, and to keep them healthy—in a rotten leaky tub !
The completion of the Portsmouth Convict Prison, in 1852, at length effected an import¬
ant reduction in the hulk establishments. The "Yoke" was given over to the Admiralty to be
broken up. In 1851 the " Defence " had been moved to Woolwich to replace two un¬
serviceable hulks, and the " Wakkioe," which lies off Woolwich Dockyard, and is still
called the model hullc, had been reported as unsound. It will be seen, by the accompanying
extract from the directors' report for 1852, that they again drew attention to the " Wareiob;"
while in their last report (1854) they have, once more, ventured into a few details.
" The ' Waeeioe,' " say they, " is patched up as well as her tmsoundness wiU permit,
but there is no knowing how soon she may become quite mifit for further use, and it wiU be
advisable to take the earliest opportunity that offers of transferring the prisoners to some
more suitable place of confinement, as any serious repairs would be quite thrown away on
so decayed a hulk, if indeed they would be practicable." To this remonstrance of the directors
the governor added his own, in these emphatic words—" It is weU known that the hulk is
in a most dilapidated condition, and scarcely able to hold together. Recent repairs, sup¬
porting the lower deck, &c., have rendered her safe from any immediate danger; but the
remedy is merely temporary. She is rotten and imsound from stem to stem."
StiU the "Waeeioe" remains, in spite of such remonstrances as these, with canvas
drawn over her leakages, to keep the damp from the wards, moored off the Woolwich dock¬
yard, with 436 convicts between her crumbling ribs.
Before passing from this brief history of the hulks, to paint their actual condition, the '
labour performed by their inmates, and the regulations under which they are conducted, we
■wiU quote a paragraph from the general remarks of the directors, addressed to the govern¬
ment at the beginning of last year on this subject :—" Om opinion on the disadvantages of
the hulks, as places of confinement for prisoners, has been so strongly expressed in previous
annual reports, that we feel it unnecessary here to say more than that we consider these dis¬
advantages radical and irremediable, and to urge the necessity of adopting every opportunity
that may offer of substituting for them prisons on shore, constructed, as at Portland and
Portsmouth, with sleeping cells for all the prisoners. Now that the transportation of crimi¬
nals can only be carried on to a small extent, it appears of very great importance that every
expedient had been resorted to of only a single sheet at a time, to save appearances. Neither towels nor
combs were provided for the prisoners' use, and the unwholesome odour from the imperfect and neglected
state of the water-closets was almost insupportable. On the admission of new cases into the hospital, patients
were directed to leave their beds and go into hammocks, and the new oases were turned into the vacated beds,
without changing the sheets."
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
201
defect in connection with their imprisonment which might lessen the prospect of its being
effectnal as a punishment, and also as a means of their reformation, should be got rid of as
speedily as possible, and of such defects we know none at all approaching in magnitude to the
association of the comicts in the prison hulks."
It should be remembered, let us add, by the opponents of the ticket-of-leave system, that
although it is from these condemned hulks, where the men are herded together and are
pretty well free to plot and plan as they please, that they are turned upon society, never¬
theless, according to the directors' report just quoted, of five hundred and forty-four convicts
discharged in 1854 from the Woolwich hulks only, and one hundred and six discharged
before that period—^in all six hundred and fifty convicts—there have been but six received
back with licenses revoked for misconduct.
As we have already remarked, however, the hulks are doomed. At the present time the
"Waseiok," lying off Woolwich Dockyard ; the little "Suiphue," a floating wash-tub for
the convicts, lying opposite the "Wakeioe;" the "Defence," lying off Woolwich Arsenal^
and the "Unité," made fast to the "Defence," and used as the hulk hospital (together with
the " Stielinq Castle," the invalid depot, and the "Beiton" convict hospital at Portsmouth),
are the only " floating prisons " in England—though, by the by, the " Waeeioe," floats only
once a fortnight.*
The expense to the country of the hulk establishment (including the " Stieling Castle "
and "Beiton" at Portsmouth), in 1854, the date of the last returns, was £43,545 9s. Id.
Of this sum the cost of management (including the salaries, rations, and uniforms of officers)
was nearly £14,000, and that of victualling and clothing the prisoners about £20,000 ; while
the remainder was made up principally of gratuities to convicts (about £3,000), clothing, and
travelling expenses of liberated prisoners (upwards of £1,500), medicine, and medical com¬
forts for the sick (£1,850 odd), fuel and light (£1,500), &c.
The hulk system, condemned, as we have already observed, from the date of its origin to
the present time, has been the despair of all penal reformers. Originally adopted as a make¬
shift under u^essing circumstances, these old men-of-war have remained during nearly half a
century the receptacles of the worst class of prisoners from all the jails of the United Kingdom
* Statement op the Number op Prisoners received on board the Convict Establishments at
"Woolwich, and also op the Disposal op such Prisoners, between the 1st January, 1854, and
December, 1854.
Number on board.
Eemaining on board January 1st, 1854
Admitted during the year
Total
Bow disposed of.
Discharged to Colonies
Sent to other Prisons
Pardoned
Sent to Lunatic Asylums ■
Invalided to " Stirling Castle " .
Escaped
Died
Total
Bemaining December 31, 1854 .
Grand Total ....
Average daily number of prisoners .
t 1,270, J. S., on the 20th July, drowned accidentally in canal, 1,240, J. M., on the 20th June, died
suddenly from apoplexy on board the " Defence."
" Warrior." "Defence." Total.
421 521 942
273 298 571
694 819 1513
25 29 54
21 22 43
190 216 406
Oil
5 8 13
1 1 2
11 16 27t
253 293 646
441 520 . 967
694 819 1,513
436 515 951
202
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
—a striking instance of the inertness of government, as -well as of its utter caEousness as to
the fate or reformation of the criminal.
Convicts who have undergone the reformatory discipline of Mülbank and Pentonville, are
at the hulks suddenly brought into contact with offenders who have undergone no reformatory
discipline whatever. All the care which has been taken at Pentonville and at MElbank to
prevent the men talking together, and associating with one another, is thrown away,
since the first freedom granted to the convict undergoing penal servitude is given when he
reaches the hulks, and finds himself in a "mess," where he will probably meet with one old
companion in crime at least. The authorities declare that in these messes only " rational"
conversation is permitted, but it is very clear that forty or fifty men cannot be crammed
into one side of a ship's deck, put together upon works, and swung elbow to elbow in
hammocks at night without finding ample opportunity for free conversation.
"Whatever good is effected, therefore, by the systems of Millbank and PentonviEe is
effectually destroyed at Woolwich. The reformed convict from PentonviEe is at the hulk
establishments cast among companions from whom the separate system sought to wean him,
whüe he is put to labour of the hardest and least interesting character. He was, perhaps,
a shoemaker, or a tailor, or weaver at PentonviEe ; at Woolwich, however, he has to
lay aside the craft that he has only just leamt, and is set to scrape the rust from shells, or else
stack timber. Here he is not only thrown amongst brutal companions, whom it was before
considered perdition to aEow him to associate with, and even to see, but put to do the lowest
description of labour—in some instances at the muzzle of a guard's carbine—and impressed
with the idea that it is the very repuUiveness of this labour which is his punishment, so that
it is strange, indeed, if the lessons of PentonviEe have not been utterly erased finm his
memory, granting that the imposed dumbness of the " silent system," or the physical and
mental depression induced by the separate system, to have worked some permanent salutary
effect on his heart.
Convict Labour and Discipline at Woolwich.
"The hulk system was continued," says Mr. Dixon, "notwithstanding its disastrous
consequences soon became patent to aE the world ; and it still fiourishes—^if that which only
stagnates, debases, and corrupts, can be said to flourish—though condemned by every impar¬
tial person who is at aE competent to give an opinion on the matter, and this because the
labour of the convicts is found useful and valuable to the government—a very good reason
for stiE employing convict labour upon useful public works, but no reason at all for continuing
the hulks in their present wretched condition."
As we have already remarked, this labour is of the description caEed "hard;" that is to
say, it is the exercise of irksome brute force, rather than the appEcation of self-gratifying
stíE ; stül those persons who are famüiar with the working- of a dockyard or an arsenal,
know that this " hard" work is valuable in both establishments; for in the general report
of the directors on the results of 1864, under the head of "Earnings and Expenses,"
we find that the labour of the convicts confined in the hulks alone was valued at
£19,736 5s. 9d. These earnings, however, it should be observed, were exclusive of the
estimated value of the laboiir of the convicts employed as cooks, bakers, washers, shoe¬
makers, taUors, and others engaged in work merely for prison purposes.
The directors tcE us that the kind of work performed by the convicts is chiefly labourers'
work, such as loading and unloading vessels, moving timber and other materials, and stores.
THE HÜLKS AT WOOLWICH.
203
cleaning out sliips, &c., at the dockyard ; whilst at the royal arsenal the prisoners are employed
at jobs of a similar description, with the addition of cleaning guns and shot, and excavating
ground for the engineer department—329 prisoners, out of a daily average of 515 on board
the " DErENCE," having been so employed. " The only a/rtificer's work," add the directors, " that
the convicts have had an opportunity of performing has leen, to a very small extent, in executing
repairs and other fois for the service of the hulks in which they have leen confined." *
As regards the industry of the prisoners, the directors say " the men generally have
worked willingly and with good effect, considering the disadvantage inseparable from their
being occasionally mixed with, or in the neighbourhood of, numbers of free labourers and
others—a circumstance which requires, for the sake of security, considerable restraint to be
placed on their freedom of action. Punishments for idleness, though always inflicted where
the offence is proved, have been by no means of frequent occurrence." f
The "willingness" here spoken of, however, is of a very negative kind, and might be
better described as resignation, or a desire to escape punishment. Nevertheless it should in
fairness be added, that the governor of the " Waeeioe " huUc reported to the directors of
convict prisons in 1854, that "the value of the convicts' labour might be favourably com¬
pared with that of an equal number of free workmen."
*#* Value ofLalour at the Sulks.—Let us turn now to the value set upon the labour of
the prisoners at the hulks hy the directors of convict prisons.
The report for 1854 returns the value of convict dockyard labour at 2s. 5^d. and a
fraction daily, per man ; while arsenal convict labour, according to the same authority, is
worth 2s. 4<?. per diem; that of the convict carpenters, blacksmiths, painters, plumbers,
and coopers is valued at 2s. 6d. a day, and that of shoemakers, tailors, washers, and cooks
at Is. 6d., whilst the general prison labour, working of boats, &c., is set down at only
Is. Sd. a day.
Now, by this scale we find that the following were the earnings of the convicts at
* RETURN or EMPLOTMENT OP PRISONERS IN THE "DEFENCE" HULK FOR THE WEEK ENDING
16TH DECEMBER, 1864.
General Occnpatíon.
Average Dailj
No. employed.
General Occupation.
Average Daily
No. empioyed.
Description of Work.
Average Daily
No. employed.
Description of Work.
Average Daily
No. employed.
ondmancb (A) Work,
inft Parties {as de¬
tailed in col. S)
Paisoif Work (B) (oí
detailed in col. 4)
Carpenters
Smith
Tinker
Painter . - -
Sawyer . . -
Cooper
Eopemakris
Bookbinder
Shoemakers
Tailors . - -
Washers - . -
Cooks . . .
63
4
1
1
1
1
1
1
4
12
4
329
101
Sick (C) and unfit for
labour {as detailed in
col. 4) - - -
School . . .
sspabatr for Punish-
hent (or other rea-
sons) - - -
Average daily number
22
60
3
85
515
(A) Ordnance Work¬
ing Parties.
Removing and stacking
timber - - -
Discharging mud
Shipping and unship-
pinç stores
Cleaning out sheds
Cleaning shot and shell
Carting sundries
Digging gravel .
Odd jobs not measura¬
ble-
Making and repairing
grummetts and wads
Repairing butt and
roads . . .
Assisting tradesmen -
Cleaning out drains -
Total
114
14
40
10
27
14
8
1
24
36
27
14
329
( B) Prison Work.
Boarders cleaning ship
generally,and attend¬
ing on sick at hospi¬
tal-
Boatmen - - -
Whitewashers
Bed-pickers
Net-maker - - -
(C) Sick.
Sick at Hospital -
Ditto, complaining
42
16
2
2
1
63
16
6
22
t Eepori of the Directors of the ConviH Prisons on the Discipline and Management of the Hulk Estahlishment,
204
THE GBEAT "WOHLD OF LOKDOH.
Woolwich, "as calculated according to reasonable wages, for the different descriptions of
work performed, per day of 10 hours," during the year 1854 :—
Name of Hulk.
1 1
'S (0
o o
H
Number and Value of Day's Laboui' performed.
By Inferior Workmen.
By Superior Workmen.
No. of Days,
10 hi'8. each.
Estim.-ted Value
No. of Days,
10 hrs. each.
Estimated
Value.
Total
estimated Value.
Annual
Average per
Head.
" Defence" . . .
"Warrior" . . .
515
436
96,018
68,655„2
£ s. (7.
10,067 6 9
8,453 15 5
2,889„9
11,691„3
£ s. d.
342 2 7
873 1 0
£ s. (7.
10,409 9 4
9,326 16 5
20 4 3
21 7 10
Total . .
951
164,673„2
18,521 2 2
14,581„2
1,215 3 7
19,736 5 9
20 15 0|
per ton
. £1,695
0 lOè
ct 388
9 H
597
18 0
427
11 4
. 1,353
10 2
699
14 2
84
1 0
22
16 0
19
6 0
2
14 6j
48
6 0
Here then, we perceive that 951 convicts on board the two Woolwich hulks, performed,
altogether very nearly 180,000 days' labour in the course of the year, and earned col¬
lectively, in round numbers, £20,000, or almost 20 guineas per head.*
• The subjoined is a more detailed account of the quantity and the kind of work done by the convicts
in the dockyard and arsenal at Woolwich :—
STATEMENT OF THE VALUE OF LABOUR PERFORMED IN THE ROTAL DOCKYARD, WOOLWICH, BY CONVICTS,
IN THE YEAR 1854.
Eemoving and stacking, &c., cubic timber, 2,825,073 cubic feet, at 12s. per IjOOO feet
Kemoving and stacking superficial timber, 1,726,555 superficial feet, at 4s. 6rf. per 1,(
Removing iron, ballast, stores, &c., 23,916 tons, at 6t7. per ton
Weighing and stacking ditto, 25,654 tons, at id. per ton
Removing coals, 46,406 tons, at 7(7. per ton
Weighing and stacking ditto, 33,586 tons, at 5(7. per ton
Carting sundries, 3,362 loads, at 6(7. per load
Spinning and balling oakum, 228 cwt., at 2s. per cwt. .
Cutting up old rope, 193 tons, at 2s. per ton
Picking oakum, 119 lbs., at 5|í7. per lb. . . .
Removing, stacking, and weighing old rope, &c., 1,932 tons, at 6(7,
Odd jobs not measurable :—Assisting shipwrights and riggers, cleaning out sawmills, steamers,
docks, and yard, testing chain cables, &c., docking and undocking vessels, cutting up old
iron, staging, pitch scraping, cross-cutting timber, removing boats, &c. &c., 266,948
hours, at 10 hours per day, equal to 26,694 days 8 hours, at 2«. 4(7. per day .
Total value of dockyard labour
STATEMENT OF THE VALUE OF LABOUR PERFORMED FOR THE ORDNANCE DEPARTMENT, ROTAL ARSENAL,
BY THE CONVICTS, DURING THE YEAR ENDING 31ST DECEMBER, 1854,
Removing and stacking timber, 2,222,350 cubic feet, at 12i. per 1,000 feet
Ditto ditto 6,095,636 superficial feet, at is. 6(7. per 1,000 feet
Making mortar, 329 cube yards, at 11(7. per yard
Breaking stones, 3,525 bushels, at 5(7. per bushel .
Facing stones, 839 superficial feet, at 5(7. per foot .
Weeding, 59,787 superficial yards, at 1». 6(7. per 100 yards .
Raising and removing mud, 13,070 tons, at 5J(7. per ton
Removing and shipping stores, àc., 53,037 tons, at 6(7. per ton
Cleaning shot and shell, 247,370 No., Is. per 24 shot
Carting sundries, 44,550 loads, at 6(7. per load
Digging and removing gravel, 8,547 cube yards, at 5(7. per yard
Making concrete, 96 cube yards, at 1«. per yard
Odd jobs not measurable :—Cleaning saw-mills, sheds, drains, tanks, and
making and repairing grummetts, wads, &c., repairing butt and roads, assisting tradesmen,
filling hollow shot, whitewashing, cutting sods, mowing, making and stacking hay,
spreading mud, clearing away snow, &c. &c., 19,550 days, at 2s. id. per day .
Total value of arsenal labour
3,414 7 lOi
£8,453 15~5'
£1,333
1,371
15
73
17
44
299
1,325
515
1,113 15
178 1
4 16
8
10
1
8
9
16
10
18
7
cadets' barracks,
2,280 16 8
£8,574 0 2
N.Bi—The totals atwvc given, tbongh incorrect, are copied literally from the Directors' Beport.
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
205
Convicts' Qratuities.—The gratuities which the convicts, labouring on the public works
or in the hulks, are entitled to, are divided into " conduct gi-atuities" and "industry gratuities,"
both of which vary according to the class to which the convict belongs. Each prisoner is
entitled to his conduct gratuity irrespective of his gratuity for industry, whilst his industry
gratuities are measured hy the zeal with which he labours. The conduct gratuities, as
arranged in the books of the governor of the " Defence," stand thus ;—
conduct geaxuixies.
1st Class Prisoners (receive) . . . 9<Z. Weekly.
2nd Class Prisoners . . . . 6rf. ,,
3rd Class Prisoners ,, ,, • • . • 4(?. ,,
The industry gratuities, or sums placed to the credit of the convicts according to the
amount of work done, vary from Zd. for a " good" quantity of labour performed, to &d, for
a " very good " quantity.*
We took the trouble to inspect the books of the " Defence," and can testify to the
marvellous neatness and accuracy with which they are kept. When a prisoner is reported
to the governor, the latter can teU, hy a glance at the character-book, the conduct of the
former during every week he has spent at the hulk. At the expiration of the convict's term
the character-book is summed up, the advantages resulting from the prisoner's class and
industry are added together, and he has a hill made out of the sum due to him, in the
following form, which we copied from the governor's hook :—
, Class I. Conducx.
90 weeks, V. G., at 9(f. per week
. £3
7
6
13 weeks, G., at 6<?. per week
0
6
6
1 week (infirmary accident) &d.
0
0
6
Indusxey.
99 weeks, V. G., at Zd. per week
2
9
6
4 weeks, G., at Zd. per week
0
1
0
1 week infirmary, Zd. per week
0
0
3
53 weeks (ticket-of-leave class, at Zd. per week)f 1
6
G
7
11
9
Had in private cash 0
0
4
Total 7
12
1
* The subjoined is extracted from the governor's books :—
1.) INDUSTRY GRATUITIES.
2. > As per authorised scale.
3.)
V. G. (very good). If the number of the V. G.'s is under one-third of the total number of weeks that
the prisoner has been in the prison, he may receive for every V. G. ; if over one-third and under two-
thirds of the total number, he may receive 5d. ; if over two-thirds, he may receive Gd. for every V. G.
G. (good). The prisoner may receive Zd. for every G. (unless the whole of the gratuities become forfeited
by misconduct).
0. NU.
V. B. (very bad), j
P. (punishment). > Nil. Being forfeited, for misconduct.
B. (bad). )
1. (infirmary). NU. The infirmary cases are liable for special considerations with reference to class and
conduct, but not for extra gratuity.
I. A. (infirmary accident). Discretionary—being governed by the circumstances } but, as a rule, a gratuity
is allowed according to the prisoner's previous conduct and industry.
L. (light labour). According to class (as above), but no extra gratuity.
The above scale does not apply where a special scale is authorised for invalids.
t This payment of Zd. per week was the compensation made to prisoners who, after the suspension of
206
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
This man received on leaving five shillings in cash, £3 15s. in a Post-office order, payable at
his declared destination. Thus a balance of £3 12s. \d. in his favour remained in the
governor's hands, to which he would become entitled when a letter, of which he was
furnished with a printed form on leaving the hulks, was received from him, signed by the
clergyman, or some other responsible person in his neighbourhood, as a proof that he was
leading an honest life.*
The rule is, that if a prisoner's accotmt when he is discharged be under £8, he may
receive half on leaving, and the balance two months subsequently ; whereas, if his balance
exceeds £8 and be under £12, he must wait three months for the balance. In addition to
the money due to him, eveiy prisoner discharged from the hulks is provided with a new suit
of clothes and a change of linen.
The gross sum paid in gratuities to the convicts at the hulks amounted to upwards of
£2,950 in the coui'se of the year 1854, while the cost of the clothes and travelling expenses
for the prisoners, on obtaining their liberation, was £1,650 odd.
*i^* Badges, —A distinctive portion of the discipline carried on at Woolwich consists
in the badges worn by the prisoners on the left arm, and the rings worn on the right.
These badges are made of black leather, with an edge of red cloth, with white and black
letters and figures upon it. We advanced towards some convicts who were hauling up linen
to the mast to dry, and who wore both rings and badges. The first badge we examined was
marked thus :—
7
V. G.
8
The 7 meant that the prisoner had been sentenced to seven j-ears' transportation ; the 8
that ho had been in the hulk that number of months, and the V. G., that his conduct had
transportation for short terms, remained in the hulks during the passing of the tioket-of-Ieave bill. The
■weekly allowance was paid to them from the date at which they would have obtained tickets had they pro¬
ceeded to Australia, till they were set free from the hulks. Thus J. C. was a prisoner 63 weeks longer than
he would have been confined had he been sent to the colonies.
• MEMORANDUM TO BE GIVEN TO A PRISONER ON DISCHARGE, IN CASE ANT BALANCE OP GRATUITY
MAY BE DUB TO HIM.
" In the event of your conduct being satisfactory when at liberty, and that you faithfully perform the
conditions printed at the back of the License, your claim to the balance of your Gratuity will be admitted on
your returning this paper to me at the expiration of three months from your release, backed by the certifi¬
cate of the Magistrate or Clergyman of the Parish, or other competent and kno'wn authority, that you are
earning your livelihood by honest means, and have proved yourself deserving of the clemency which has
been extended to you by Her Majesty.
" The follo'vring particulars must he carefully stated in returning this paper:—
Christian and Surname at length, and Prison Number . .
Tour Occupation or Calling, or in what manner you are earning j
your livelihood )
The name of the Post-office at which the order should ho made 1
payable . . . ) ~
Governor.
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH. 207
been very good all the time be had been there. Another man wore a badge marked
thus :—
4
G. 6
8
This denoted that the prisoner was suffering fow years' penal servitude ; that his conduct
had been good during six months ; and that he had been on board the hulk eight months.
These badges are collected once in every month, and conveyed to the governor's office.
The character-book, as filled up from the weekly reports of the warders, is gone over in each
case, and, at the same time, if the prisoner have behaved badly, his badge is altered, and he
loses some of the advantages of his previous good conduct.* Three months' good report in the
character-book constitutes a V.G., or very good, and advances the wearer three months towards
the second stage of penal servitude. Accordingly the man's class is not marked upon his
badge.
But the first man whose badge we noticed upon his left arm, had also upon his right arm
a blue and two red rings. The blue ring denotes the second stage of penal servitude, and the
red rings that he is a first-class convict. One red ring upon the right arm makes a second-
class convict ; and the third-class prisoner is known by the absence of aU rings from his arm.
By this system we are assured that it is almost impossible that a prisoner can be unjustly
dealt with.
• " The badges which are given as a record to the prisoner of his actual position with reference to cha¬
racter, have proved to be a great encouragement ; and that they are prized is evidenced by the efforts made
to obtain them, and to regain them by good conduct in such cases as they may have been forfeited.
" The Governor of Portland Prison observes :—
" ' The system of wearing conduct-badges on the dress, by whieh the monthly progress of each convict
towards the attainment of his ticket-of-leave is publicly marked, works very satisfactorily, as is evinced by
the anxiety of even the ill-conducted prisoners to regain a lost good-conduct mark, and the efforts to keep
subsequently clear of the misconduct book.'
"As a means of promoting good conduct, a system of classification has also been adopted, the object of
which will be best understood from the rules established with reference to it, which are as follows:—
" ' The prisoners shall be divided into three classes, to be called the first, second, and third classes. The
classification shall depend, in the first instanee, on the report of character and general conduct since con¬
viction that may be received with a prisoner ; and subsequently, on his actual conduct, industry, and
observed character under the discipline of the establishment.
" ' 6. Prisoners in either the first or second classes shall be liable to removal to a lower class for miscon¬
duct. The prisoners in the different classes shall be distinguished by badges, indicating the particular class
to which each prisoner may belong.
" ' 7. Prisoners who habitually misconduct themselves will be liable to be sent back to separate confine¬
ment, or to be removed to some penal establishment under more severe discipline.
" ' 8. The object of the classification is not only to encourage regularity of conduct and a submission to
discipline in the prison, by the distinctions that will be maintained in the different classes, but to
produce on the mind of the prisoners a practical and habitual conviction of the effect which their own good
conduct and industry will have on their welfare and future prospects.
" ' 9. Such distinctions shall be made between the classes, and such privileges granted, as shall promote
the object of giving encouragement to those whose good conduct may deserve it, provided such distinctions
do not interfere with discipline nor with the execution of a proper amount of labour on public works.'
Jlepori on the Biscipline and Conslinelion of Forlland Prison, and its Connection with the System of Convict
Discipline now in operation, by Lieut.-Col. Jcbb, C.B., 1850.
208
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LOHDOH.
H iii—y-
A Bay on Board the Defence^^ Sulk.
The cold, gray light of early morniiig gave to everything its most chüly aspect, when
at five a.m. we stepped aboard the " Depence," the old 74-gun ship, with the determination
of spending an entire day with her 500 and odd inmates. Eut before we describe the various
duties by which every day in a convict-ship is marked, let us here acknowledge how much
we owe to the courtesy and to the lucid explanations of the governor, Mr. S. Byrne. As we
run up the gangway of the silent hull, and survey the broad decks, and massive " galleys,"
and hammock-houses, in the misty light, the only sormds heard are the gurgling of the tide
streaming past the sides of the black-looking vessel, and the pacing of the solitary warder-
guard—the silence and the stillness of the scene in no way realizing the preconceived idea
of a convict hulk. Yet as wo pass to the ship's galley, at the fore-part of the vessel, and see
the copper sheathing glistening on the fioor round the cook's fire, with the large black boiler
above it, and the sparkling yellow fii'e shining through the broad bars, the sight reminds us
that there are hundreds of mouths to feed below. The cook sharply rakes the burning coals j
and the copper frets, and spurts, and steams, with its unquiet boiling volume of the reddish-
brown cocoa.
This cook is the first convict with whom we have come in contact : he is preparing the
breakfasts of his fellow-prisoners, who are still sleeping under the hatches. Close at hand
is the bread-room, püed vrith baskets and boxes; while opposite is the officers' galley, with
another stove, standing on its plate of glistening copper sheathing. Above, on the forecastle,
are the hammock-houses—divided off into large, black, deep cupboards—^bulging over the
gunwale of the ship. Then we pass the drying-houses for linen (used in wet weather), and
the little cabins at the gunwale waist, where the mechanic-convicts employed on board ply
their respective handicrafts. Glancing over-head, we observe the shirts and stockings of the
prisoners below dangling from the scanty rigging between the masts, and fiuttering in the
wind—as we had remarked them from the shore in broad daylight on another occasion.
We are now near the top deck hatchway by the forecastle ; it is still barred and
padlocked. Here the bayonet of the sentry on duty, glistening in the Eght, attracts our
attention. Then we notice the heavy bright bell, swimg in front of the hatchway. All
is quiet yet. We can hear the water splashing amid the boats at the broad gangway, or
along the shelving sides of the ship, under her barred port-holes. The warder who accom¬
panies us, ourselves, and the sentry are still the only people on the spacious decks of the old
seventy-four. The poop, given up to the governor's rooms, and to those of his deputy and
officers, is railed round ; while a series of chimney funnels, projecting here and there, break
the regularity of the outline.
The warder proceeds to open the hatchways ; and we descend, in company with 1^, the
top deck, in order to see the men in their hammocks, before rising for their day's duties.
*#* The " Turniny-out" of the Convicts.—On reaching the top deck we found it divided, by
strong iron rails (very like those in the zoological gardens, which protect visitors from the fury
of the wild beasts) from one end to the other, into two long cages as it were, with a passage
between them. In this passage a warder was pacing to and fro, commanding a view of the
men, who were slung up in hammocks, fastened in two rows, in each cage or compartment of
the ship. There was also a little transverse passage at the end of each ward, that aEowed
the officer on duty to take a side view of the sleepers, and to cast the light of his bull's-eye
under the hammocks, to assure himself that the men were quiet in their beds.
The glimmering little lanterns attached to the raUings, so that the warder on duty could
trim them without entering the wards, were stiE alight. The glazed hats of the men hung
THE HULES AT WOOLWICH.
209
üp overhead, reflecting the pale beams ; and the men themselves were still snoring in their
dingy hammocks.
In these two compartments or wards were 105 convicts, parted off into sections, D 1,
D 2, and A 1 and A 2. {Seeplan, p. 211.) And a curious sight it was to look upon the great
sleeping mass of beings within them ! The hammocks were slung so close to one another that
they formed a perfect floor of beds on either side of the vessel, seeming like rows of canvas-
boats. But one or two of the prisoners turned on their sides as we passed along the deck,
and we could not help speculating, as we went, upon the nature of the felon-dreams of those
we heard snoring and half-moaning about us. How many, thought we, are with their friends
once more, enjoying an ideal liberty!—^how many are enacting or planning some brutal
robbery !—how many suffering, in imagination, the last penalty of their crimes !—how many
weeping on their mother's breast, and promising to abandon their evil courses for ever !—and
to how many was sleep an utter blank—a blessed annihilation for a while to their life-long
miseries !
The convicts here arranged were first-class men—there being manifest advantages in the
top deck over the middle and lower ones, as shown by Mr. Bossy, in his report on the
" Waebioe" hulk, in 1841*. "We followed the warder towards the stem of the ship ; and, at
the extremity of this deck, we crossed n grating, and reached the hatchway leading to the
middle deck.
The middle deck was arranged on the same plan as that of the top one ; excepting that
the passage between the swinging hammocks was wider. Here 129 men were sleeping in
the divisions or wards called E 1,E2; Bl, B2. {See plan, p. 211.) Here, too, the officer was
parading between the wards or cages, and splashing about chloride of lime that stood in
buckets between the wards. It was still very dark; and the groaning, coughing, and yawning
of the sleeping and waking prisoners, had anything but a cheerful effect on the mind. The
* " A Statement of the Number of Prisoners sent to the Hospital, from the 1st of October, 1840, to the
10th May, 1841, inolusiye; showing the Deck to which they belonged, and the mortality from each: —
Decks.
Daily average
Number of
Men.
Total Number
sent to
the Hospital.
Hate
per Cent.
Total Number
of
Deaths.
Eate
per Cent
Top .
132
48
36
5
3-7
Middle
192
134
70
15
7-8
Lower
284
172
60.J
12
4-2
Total .
608
354
58
32
5-2
" The smaller proportion of illness among the prisoners on the upper deck is readily explained by their
exemption from depressing causes.
" According to the present system of classification, all prisoners newly arrived who are still smarting
under the pain of disgrace and separation from their homes, and have not yet recovered from the anxiety,
severe discipline, and spare diet endured in jail ; all whose transportation is for a long term of years or for
life, and all whose character and conduct are bad, remain the tenants of the lower deck ; but if the prisoner's
sentence he short, and his character and conduct good, he may in three months he raised to the middle deck,
and in twelve months to the upper deck, where if he once arrives, there is a strong expectation he will not
leave the country ; he feels he has the confidence of the officers ; and a cheerful hope of regaining his home
sustains and restores a healthy vigour to body and mind.
" If a long-sentenced prisoner is the subject of scrofula, of ulcer, of scurvy, of general infirmity, or of any
cause unfitting him for the voyage, he will become by good conduct an inmate of the middle deck, and wiU
remain there for several years ; so that we gradually acquire an accumulation of invalids on this deck, and
this is one reason of the frequent deaths of its inhabitants.
" The upper deck is much drier, being farther removed from the surface of the river ; and, being more
fully exposed to the sun, is hotter than the rest. The large size of its ports also affords better ventilation."~-
Medkal Report, by P. Bossy, surgeon to " The Warrior," for 1841.
210
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDON.
air was close and unpleasant, but not remarkably so, considering that it had been exhausted
by the breath of so many men since nine o'clock on the previous night, when they turned in.
We had still another dock to visit ; so we followed our warder and descended the hatch¬
way to the lower deck, which was higher, and had a broader passage than the two upper ones
through which we had just passed. This deck was arranged to accommodate only 240 men ;
but, at the time of our visit, it contained only a 190 sleepers, arranged in sections thus.
SECTIONAL VIEW OF THE INTERIOR OF THE "DEFENCE" HULK.
E 1, E 2, and E 3, on one side, and C 1, C 2, and C 3 on the other. {Seeplan, p. 211.)
This spacious deck stretches right under the fore-pai't of the poop, the barred port-holes
admitting but little light ; still the air is fresher than in the decks above, which receive the
ascending heat from the 190 sleepers ; for, by means of broad openings in the stem and bows
of the ship, a constant stream of fresh air is carried through the vessel. Altogether there
were, at the time of our visit, 424 convicts stowed between the decks.
The men seem to be comfortably covered, having two blankets and a rug each.
The tables used for meals are unshipped, and lean against the bars of the passage ; the men's
boots are under their hammocks, and their clothes he upon the benches.
Having passed through this gloomy scene we reach a narrow white-washed passage, at the
head of the lower deck, and entering by a side door, we come to the solitary. ceUs. We
follow the buU's-eyc carried by the wai'der. Presently he stops, and placing his lantern
against a rude opening in the bulkhead, throws its Eght upon a man in one of the cells
within, who is sentenced to " forty-eight hours." Having inspected the sleeper, who is lying
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
211
huddled in his brown rug upon the ground, for there are no hammocks allowed in this
cell, he darkens the place once more and proceeds to the second.
In solitary cell Ho. 2, the man is sleeping in his hammock, and the scuttle is not
darkened. As the light from the bull's-eye falls upon his face, the prisoner blinks his eyes,
and calls, " All right !" as he roUs in his bed.
We now pass on to a cell in the bows of the ship. Here the hammock hides the man's face
PLANS OF THE DECKS OF THE " DEFENCE " HULK
(The letters and figures A 1, A 2, D 1, D 2, &c. refer to the several vrards on the different decks ; G indicates the Schoolmaster,
H Chief Warder, I Clerk, K Steward, L L L L Deputy Governor, M Chaplain, N N Principal Warder, O O Warders'
Mess-room.)
from our view, so we advance across immense white-washed timbers or " knees," that stand
up as solid as milestones, and so on to the opposite cell in the bows. This one is empty ;
but the next contains a prisoner who is in for three days, on bread and water, for refusing
to work in the boats. We then return to the lower deck, through a door at the opposite
side to that at which we entered the solitary cell-passage. There are five such cells in all—
two on either side, and one iu the bows.
As we re-entered the lower deck, we found the lamp-man (a convict), in a gray Scotch
cap, blowing out the lamps. He, together with the cooks' and officers' servants, are let out
a little before the general call-time ; their services being necessary before the prisoners are
roused at half-past five o'clock, and the day's business begins.*
The deep-toned bell against the forecastle now sounded three bells. The men had been
expecting the unwelcome sound; for, a few minutes before, as we traversed the lower
deck to examine the air-passages and ventilators, we saw heads popped up here and there
from the dingy hammocks to have a peep at us as we passed. The usual hour for rising
was evidently at hand. The effect of the bell, however, was astonishing. In a minute
scores and scores of men tumbled out of their beds, and were wriggling and stretching
themselves in their blue shirts.
" AU up ! Turn out, men ! " cries the officer ; and the convicts are in their trousers in
an inconceivably short time.
• We here publish a table citing the distribution of time on board the bulk, extracted from the Report
of the Directors of Convict Frisons. This table, however, can give no definite idea of the work really per-
15
212
TBE GREAT WORLD OF LOKDOIT.
" Let UB go to the top deck, and we shall see how the hammocks are lashed," suggests
our warder; and on ascending to the upper decks we find many of the men already
dressed, and with their hammocks lashed up like huge sausages.
Presently the gates were opened, and the men turned out one after another, canyûng
their bolster-like beds on their shoulders.
" Now men, go on there ! steady—steady !" exclaims the officer. " Come on, men !
Come on, the rest of you !" he shouts as we reach the forecastle. The men appear in single
file, some carrying one hammock and others two. Those who carry two have, in addition
to their own bed, that of a fellow-prisoner, who remains below to forward other work.
Some of the men are fuUy dressed in their brown striped convict's suit ; while others are in
their blue shirt sleeves. The officers continue shouting to the men, and hastening their
movements. " Come on with that hammock ! Come on now!"
Long lines of men, with their hammocks upon their shoulders, wind along the decks.
The sides of the black hammock-houses are open, discovering lettered compartments, as A 1,
A 2, B 1, &c.; and the warders on duty go into the houses, and see the hammocks stowed,
as the prisoners deliver them, under their proper letters, varying the work by directions, as
formed, nor of the regularity with which five hundred men are made to conform to certain hours, in the
minutest particular.
the daily distribution op time on board the " defence" hulk.
Occupation.
In Summer (longest day). In Winter (shortest day).
(In intermediate seasons, the hours vary according toUght).
ning Classes
readiness to turn out toi
ork (preparing the boats, >
0.) )
Prisoners rise, wash, and roll )
up hammocks )
Breakfast (oflScers and ser- )
vants) )
Cleaning classes
In readiness
work
&c.
Labour, including landing and 1
marching to and from work- >■
ing ground )
Dinner for officers and pri- )
soners )
Labour, including mustering!
and marching to and from >
working ground )
Prisoners are mustered, wash, )
and prepare for supper .... )
Supper, washing-up, &c
Evening prayers, school, and i
those not at school repairing /
clothing, &c., mustered in- |
termediately )
Sling hammocks
All in bed
A.u. AH. lira. Min.
5 30 6 0 =: 0 30
6 0 6 30 = 0 30
G 30 7 15 = 0 45
7 15 7 30 = 0 15
7 30 12 noon = 4 30
12 noon 1 p.m. = 1 0
1 p.m. 5 30 = 4 30
5 30 6 0 = 0 30
6 0 6 45 = 0 45
6 45 8 30 = 1 45
8 30 9 0 = 0 30
9 0
Total from
5.30 a.m. to 8.0 p.m. 15 30
abstract op the above.
A.M.
5 30
A.M. Hra. Min
6 0 = 0 30
6 0 6 30 = 0 30
6 30 7 15 = 0 45
7 15 7 30 = 0 15
7 30 12 noon = 4 30
12 noon 1 p.m. = 1 0
1 p.m. 4 0 = 3 0
4 0 4 45 = 0 45
4 45 5 30 = 0 45
5 30 7 30 = 2 0
7 30 8 0 = 0 30
8 0
Total from
5.30 a.m. to 8.0 p.m. 14 30
Meals 2 15
Labour, including mustering, and moving to and \ q q
4 15
from J
In-door occupation, evening instruction, &c., &c...
In Summer 15 30
2 16
7 30
4 45
In "Winter .... 14 30
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
213
" Shove that a hit forward there. How then, stow away there, my lads—stow away ! Do
you belong here ? How came you so late ?"
" Any more CI? Is that the last of C 1 ? How then, come on, lads ! Move up ! "
"We get the whole ship up and stowed in half an hour," said our warder. " The hell
went at half-past five, and you'll see, sir, we'll have all the hammocks up by six."
Still the brown line of men moved forward to the hammock-houses, each hammock bear¬
ing the prisoner's registered number stitched upon it, and with the word " Defence " printed
on the canvas.
The prisoners continue to pour out as we descend again between the decks, and find that
many have got the tables shipped against the bars, and the benches ranged beside them.
How some of the men are washing in buckets, placed ready over night ; and others arrang¬
ing their hair by the reflection of the window-pane; and others, again, scrubbing the
tables ready for breakfast. Everything and everybody seem to be undergoing a cleansing
process more or less searching.
We next proceeded once more to the deck below, following our guide. The scene was
a busy one. Some of the prisoners were still combing their hair ; others were washing
the deck boards, which were shining under the plentiful supply of water ; others, again,
were covering the white deal tables (which are scrubbed also every morning) with painted
canvas table-cloths; then there were groups of men, down on one knee, brushing their
boots, while the messmen were busy at the preparations for breakfast. The tables, ranged
in a row along the wards, accommodate eight prisoners each. Each man takes his turn as
messman, while the service of the ward is divided.
All the breakfast things are in block-tin, and they glisten as though they had never been
used. Some of the men have polished theii's over-night, and tied them up in handkerchiefs,
to give themselves a little extra time in the morning. "Where's your plates? Where's
your plates ?" cry the messmen. Eor water, one prisoner at a time is let out of each ward,
and as soon as he returns another is allowed to go on deck.
The various processes, collectively called getting-up, may now be said to be complete,
and the prisoners are all fairly padlocked in their wards, under the eye of a single warder.
After six o'clock in the morning, however, there are two officers upon the lower deck till
nine o'clock in the evening, when the men turn in. The costume^of the prisoners, as we
now see them completely dressed, is the same as that worn at PentonviUe, viz., rusty brown,
with red stripes upon it.
The chief warder enters and inquires whether aU are up. " All up ! " is the answer, as
the men give the military salute. " There you see, sir," said our attendant, as four bells
(six o'clock) rang, " all the hammocks are on deck, and the men are locked up, as I said they
would be."
The first business of the morning being over, the men break into groups or read. Many
a one, to our astonishment, took his Bible and began reading it with no little earnestness.
Here an altercation ensued between two prisoners about the tins, which one of them
was stül cleaning. This was promptly suppressed by a cry of " Halloa ! What are you
about there, losing your temper?"
At this time, too, the doctor's mate appeared, carrying a wooden tray covered with
physic bottles and boxes of salve, and followed by an officer holding a paper containing the
" invalid list." This officer checks the distribution of the medicine.
*#* Oßcera' Butiea.—The ship now begins to wear an animated appearance ; for at six
o'clock the officers, chief warders, and cooks come on board, all those we had seen previously
having been on duty throughout the night. The officers at the hulk are arranged into
divisions, the first mustering 20 men, and the second 19 men. In answer to our inquiries
cm this subject, our attendant said—
15»
214
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDON.
" There's twenty in first division, and nineteen in second division, and, in addition to these,
the chief warder and two principal warders. Twenty officers sleep on board one night,
nineteen the next. To the first division there is one principal and the deputy-governor,
while the second division is commanded by the chief warder, and one of the principal
warders. Well, the first division came on duty yesterday at seven a.m., and vrill go off duty
about six o'clock to-night. It's a very long stretch. The officers came on duty at half-past
six this morning, and will remain on duty till six o'clock this evening. They will be on
their legs all the time. They will not have more than twenty to twenty-five minutes to get
their dinner. It's not only one day, but every day the same thing. They're on their legs
all day long, for they are not allowed to sit down. The first night-watch comes on at eight
v.m., and remains on duty till half-past ten. The second watch comes on, and remains tiU one.
Then he is relieved by the third watch, who remains tül half-past three—^the fourth watch
doing duty till six o'clock. How the watch that's just relieved will have a quarter of an
hour to wash and shave, for the officers muster at a quarter-past six. So you see there's
not much time lost. The breakfast is served down at half-past six. This occupies till a
quarter to seven. From a quarter to seven till a quarter past, the warders are at liberty ;
but during this time they must breakfast, clean themselves, brush their buttons and the
crowns upon their collars, and be on deck to parade at the quarter-past seven. Then they
turn to the labour. They're just going to muster the prisoners. Perhaps you'll like to
see them."
Mmter and, Breakfast, Diet, ^c.—We went down once more between decks. The
muster of the prisoners had just commenced. Two officers were occupied in the wards.
The prisoners were all ranged behind the tables—" Silence ! keep silence there !" shouted an
officer ; and then, while one officer called the names of the prisoners, the other marked down
the absentees upon a slate. As each name was called, the man owning it responded, " Tessir,"
accompanying his reply with a military salute. The replies of " Yessir," in every variety
of voice, ran along the wards.
This ceremony over, the registering officers retired, and the warder on duty padlocked
the men in once more. We then went to see the muster of the absentees—as the cooks,
bakers, and the like—which was carried on in the same way as with the prisoners in the
wards, only each absentee, as he cried, " Yessir," and saluted, passed out, to return to the
duty from which he had been for the moment withdrawn.
" There you see, now," said our attendant, " every man in the ship has answered to
his name."
" AU correct, sir !" said the registering warder to the chief.
"How, then, A ward !" was shouted down the hatchway.
" This is A ward, sir," said our attendant, " coming up for breakfast."
Instantly four of the convicts appeared, foUowing one another. " That's for A ward."
" B ward !" was next shouted down. "How, then, B ward here!" And in this way the
messmen of the various wards were summoned from their decks, to fetch the breakfasts of
their comrades, the messmen of each deck appearing at different hatchways ; for it may be
here observed that there is a separate hatchway for each fioor of the vessel.
The messmen were now seen moving along in file towards the ship's gaUey, and
presently they re-appeared, each man carrying a large beer-can fuU of cocoa, the bread
being taken down in baskets, and served out by the officers at the word-doors.
At half-past six the doctor comes on board, when an officer goes round shouting in
the wards, " Any men to see the doctor?" Six men appear in answer, and are formed in
line near the gaUey-door. They are ushered one by one into the little surgery, and here,
if the ease is considered at aU serious, a trap-door is opened, and they are passed at once
down into a little separate room underneath, prepared with " bath and other convenience."
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
215
Nine-tenths of the calls for medical assistance, however, are dismissed as frivolous, such call
being looked upon with great suspicion, as generally evincing a desire to avoid a day's labour
in the arsenal.
While remarking the six applicants for medical assistance, we also noticed four men
drawn up in a line at the end of the main deck, attended by an officer. These were
" reported" men, about to answer for some infraction of prison rules.
We now followed the chief warder below, to seethe men at breakfast. "Are the messes
all right ?" he called out as he reached the wards.
" Keep silence there! keep silence !" shouted the officer on duty.
The men were all ranged at their tables with a tin can full of cocoa before them, and
a piece of dry bread beside them, the messmen having just poured out the cocoa from the
huge tin vessel in which he received it from the cooks ; and the men then proceed to
eat their breakfast in silence, the munching of the dry bread by the hundreds of jaws being
the only soimd heard.*
After this we returned to where the reported prisoners were drawn up, facing the
governor's house, upon the quarter-deck. They were called into the office one by one; and
as the second man was called, the first re-appeared, and was marched off between two
officers to a solitary ceU.
" This is my report for yesterday ; I give one in every morning," said the officer attend¬
ing us, as he went to hand the document in, together with a " cell report," stating the number
of prisoners under pmiishment, the days they had done, &c.
Next our attention was directed to the convict boatmen, who were preparing to take the
ship's messenger ashore.
" They have already been on shore this morning," continued our persevering informant,
to bring off the cook and chief warder. "That's the hospital cutter, sir," and our friend
pointed to a little boat, rowed by two prisoners in their brown suits, and carrying three or
four warders in the stem.
" Now, sir, our boat's just going aboard the ' Uneei ' " (for such is the general pro¬
nunciation of the French name). " Here is our sick report, sir, for the day," he continued,
showing us the document. "It is delivered in every morning. There are only two men
on it now. One, you see, requires light labour, and the other ' low diet.' "
At this moment a dashing little boat, with her stem seats cushioned, and rowed by four
men, pulling long oars, appeared at the gangway.
" This is the gig, sir, to take the doctor away."
The officers now begin to exhibit great activity, while the men below are cleaning
their tables and tins—having finished their morning's meal.
" That boat won't be back in time unless she's haUed," said one officer, looking towards
the shore. " It only wants a few minutes to seven, now."
• The following is the Scale of Diet on board the " Defence" Hulk.
Soup Days :—"Wednesdays, Mondays, and
Fridays, when the dinner stands thus :—1 pint of
soup, 5 ounces of meat, 1 pound of potatoes, and
9 ounces of bread.
The bread, potatoes, &o., are served by con¬
tract.
cruel met.
1 pint of gruel and 9 ounces of bread for
breakfast, dinner, and supper—served when men
are on the sick list, in the hulk.
punishment diet.
1 pound of bread per day, and water.
breakfast (per man).
12 Ounces of Bread.
1 Pint of Cocoa.
dinner (per man).
6 Ounces of Meat.
1 Pound nf Potatoes.
9 Ounces of Bread.
supper
1 Pint of Gruel.
6 Ounces of Bread.
216
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
Another boat now puHed towards the ship, rowed by men wearing guernseys, marked
" Defence," and glazed hats that had numbers stamped upon them.
"Bo as quick as you can, Matthews," shouted one of the ofdcers—"it's only five
minutes. Look sharp."
The boat, as directed, went off to the long brown boats, and brought them alongside the
gangway, to take the prisoners off to their ' ' hard labour " in the arsenal.
" They're going to take the officers first," said our attendant. " The second division's just
coming on duty now, sir." And glancing to the shore, by the side of the bright little
arsenal pier, we could perceive a dark group of officers, standing near the landing steps—
carrying bundles in handkerchiefs—their glazed caps and bright buttons sparkling in the
sunlight as they moved about. " The boats are rather behindhand, for the prisoners
should be aU in them at the first stroke of seven."
Nine bells (seven o'clock) sounded, as we went once more below, and foimd that the
men had just finished cleaning their tin mugs, and were gathering up the bits of chalk into
bags, and arranging these same mugs on top of the inverted plates, round their tables ready for
dinner. Some, too, were washing the tables again, to get beforehand with their work;
while others were covering their bright tin plates and mugs with the coarse table cloths, to
keep the dirt from them ; and others, again, were reading their Bibles, or lounging lazily
about.
"They know to a minute the time they have, sir; and the officers are as severely taught
to obey the progress of the clock, for if they are not at the landing steps at seven precisely,
the boat pushes off without them, and will not return to fetch them."
The boat that had gone to bring the warders aboard was soon on its way back to the ship,
crowded with the glazed caps and dark uniforms of the officers, relieved by the fresh white
•guernseys of the convict rowers.
Seven o'clock is the hour for the officers' parade upon the quarter-deck ; the object being
to see that they are aU sober and fit for duty. The parade-over, the guard appears on deck.
It consists of four men, armed with carbines, and with their cartouche boxes slung behind
them by a broad black belt. This guard stands near the gangway ; the men having their
carbines loaded, and held ready to fire, while the prisoners pass to the boats.
Looking overboard, we now perceive the convict boatmen, in their guernseys and glazed
hats, bringing the two long-boats to their proper position opposite the gangway, ready for
the debarcation of the prisoners on their way to their work at the arsenal.
At a quarter-past seven the officers for duty ashore are called over by the chief warder,
in the presence of the deputy-governor, while a principal checks them. Twelve extra guards,
composed chiefly of soldiers from the Crimea, and some wearing clasps upon their warder's
uniform (an uniform, by the way, exactly resembling that of the Pentonvüle officers), now
file down the steps, to be ready to receive the prisoners, who begin to appear above the
hatchways, marching in single file towards the gangway, with a heavy and rapid tread ; and
it is an exciting sight to see the never-ending Une of convicts stream across the deck, and
down the gangway, the steps rattling, as they descend one after another into the capacious
boat, amid the cries of the officer at the ship's side—"Come, look sharp there, men!
Look sharp !"
Belwrcation of Prisoners for Work in the Arsenal.—The rowers hold their oars
raised in the air, as the brown line of men flows rapidly into the cutter below, some seat
themselves in the stem, but the large majority stand in a dense mass in the bottom of the
long low craft, dotted here and there by the dark dress of the officers planted in the midst
of them. In fine weather no less than 110 convicts are landed in each of these boats or
cutters.
It is pretty to watch these long boats glide slowly to the pier, their dense human freight
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
217
painted brown on tbe stream. And scarcely has one boat landed its felon crew, before another
is filled, and maVing for tbe arsenal pier and tbe sbore. {Seeengraving.) ÎTor is it less pictu¬
resque to see tbe prisoners clamber up to tbe parade ground ; fall in line tbere witb military
precision; separate according to tbe cbief officer's directions into working parties (eacb
working party being in charge of a warder) ; and move off to tbe scene of tbeb; day's labour,
in long brown strings. This is a very curious scene, and one that it will bei impossible to
witness some few years hence.
A third or surplus small cutter puts off witb tbe few remaining prisoters, and more
guards. These guards, we observe, wear cutlasses ; such cutlasses being carjied as a special
protection, for tbe officers wearing them have charge of working parties employed beyond tbe
bounds of tbe arsenal ; as, for instance, upon a mortar battery in tbe marsbes^ Tbe men are
now off to work. Those prisoners who remain in tbe ship are in tbe deck cabins, plying
their handicraft for tbe use of tbe bulk.
We now left tbe bulk in tbe deputy-governor's gig, in company witb that officer, who
acted himself as steersman.
"How then, shove off! Altogether! Lay on your oars! Sharp as yoji can !" were
tbe brisk orders ; and as we neared tbe sbore, tbe directions to tbe men ran, " Hold water,
aU of you ! Pull all ! Hard a-starboard ! Port, tbere ! Ship oars !"
Tbe men obeyed these nautical directions witb admirable precision, and soon landed us
at tbe arsenal stairs, amid huge stone heaps, piles of cannon tumbled about, and aU bounded
by long storehouses and workshops that seemed to cross eacb other in every direction.
We accompanied tbe deputy-governor in bis inspection of tbe gangs, as tbe convict crew
stood drawn up in lines, beaded by their respective officers. It is necessary to change and
equalize tbe gangs daily, we were told, according to tbe work eacb has to perform. Here
tbe officers proceeded to search under tbe men's waistcoats, and to examine their neckcloths,
so as to prevent tbe secretion of clothes about their persons, which would enable them to
disguise themselves, and to escape among tbe free labourers. Ho less than seventeen such
attempts to escape bad taken place among tbe " Defence" convicts in one year, though out of
these only three got off. In 1854 tbere were five attempts at escape, of which but one was
successful.
Tbe searching and arrangement of tbe working parties or gangs being effected, tbe officer
gives tbe word of command, " Cover !" then, " Pace—forward !" and eacb gang wheels off
to tbe direction of its work, tbe men walking two abreast, and tbe rear being brought up by
tbe officer in charge.
As tbe several gangs leave tbe parade-ground, tbe officer in charge gives tbe number of
bis party, and that of bis men. Tbe parties, or gangs, are numbered from 1 to 30. Thus,
as one party passes, tbe officer calls, " Two—eight that is, party Ho. 2, containing 8 men.
" Close up ! close up your party, Matthews—they're all straggling !" cries tbe deputy-
governor to one of tbe guards, who is taking off bis men somewhat carelessly.
Tbe arsenal is now in full activity. Tbe tall chimneys vomit dense clouds of black
smoke ; steam spurts up here and tbere ; tbe sharp cbck of hammers falling upon metal can
be beard on all sides; tbe men are beginning to roU tbe shells along tbe miniature railways
laid along tbe ground for tbe purpose. All tbe gangs of prisoners are off, leaving a dense
cloud of dust behind them.
Tbere are 299 in tbe arsenal to-day, tbe deputy-governor informs us. This number is
added, be says, to tbe ascertained number remaining on board tbe bulk ; and then, if tbe whole
tally witb tbe number registered upon tbe governor's books, all is right.
We then turned our attention to tbe bulk once more, and re-entered tbe deputy-
governor's gig. As we were jerked through tbe water by tbe regular strokes of tbe men,
and tbe measured working of tbe ruUocks, we noticed tbe heavy cranes planted along tbe
quay—^tbeir wheels covered witb small roofe like parasols, but bearing, neyertbeless, some
218
THE GEEAT "WORLD OE LOM)ON.
evidences of exposure to the weather. " With one of those cranes," said the officer to us, "I
have seen a single man lift a cannon on board a ship. They are worked by hydraulic pressure."
No sooner did we reach the gangway of the " Defexce" once more, than the principal
warder on board cried, as he met the deputy-governor, " Two hundred and ninety-nine,
sir !" alluding to the number of prisoners who had left the ship for labour in the arsenal.
" All right ! " was the laconic reply.
*** The. Library and School at the Halh.—"Would you like to come and see the meat,
sir?" we were asked by our attendant officer. " I have to go." The steward sees to the
proper weight, while the deputy-governor examines the quality of the meat. The piece we
saw was an enormous leg of beef, against which prodigious weights were necessary to ascer¬
tain its precise value.
The prisoners left aboard the hulk were now busy washing the deck and the gangway.
Some dashed buckets of water on the boards, while others were vigorously plying flat scrub¬
bing-brushes, fixed at the extremity of long handles. Below, in a boat, alongside the hulk,
were more brown prisoners, pumping at a small engine, and forcing the water, taken fi-om
the Artesian-well in the arsenal, into the capacious tanks of the hulk. There is, in fact, one
continued splashing of liquid everywhere—on the decks, and in the long-boats, or cutters,
which have now returned fi-om the shore. The " Defence," we may add, has twenty
tanks, holding two tons each of water.
"We next adjourned to the governor's comfortable breakfast-room, with its pretty stem-
windows, and its light blue and white walls. The military salute of the convict-servant who
entered from time 4o time, with his white apron about his loins, was the only reminiscence
of the hulk as we sat at the morning meal.
After this we visited the chapel and school-room.* The chapel is a square apartment.
• tabulas statement of school progress at the "defence" hulk, during the year 1854.
T3
1
a
S o
cä
cS *73
es
P."3
aj
Date of Reception.
TS
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Total.
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February 11,
1854 -
12
5
4
4
16
„ 24
,1
5
2
1
1
—
6
March 13
—
4
4
14
5
4
5
1
24
„ 24
1
2
2
7
3
5
2
2
14
April 20
>> ■ *
2
3
3
16
7
10
5
.4
30
May 2
6
5
1
1
16
5
7
5
28
„ 4
Î? " "
3
3
—
—
3
1
6
3
2
11
July 1
M * '
7
5
6
6
7
3
8
25
—
45
August 11
"
2
2
1
1
3
—
4
4
—
10
» 14
2
1
2
1
2
4
3
1
10
October 9
" "
2
—
—
—
—
—
—
2
11
î? * *■
13
3
—
18
5
13
—
47
November 2
7
—
13
3
8
—
28
December 19
■ ■
6
—
5
4
7
—
18
„ 23
—
—
4
—
2
4
—
9
Totals
-
52
16
22
18
125
31
67
89t
10t
298
f The prisoners who could " read and write " well, and those who were " well educated " on reception,
have since made considerable advancement in arithmetic and the lower branches of the mathematics.
CONVICTS FOEMING A MORTAE BATTERY IN THE WOOLWICH MARSHES.
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
219
admirably arranged for its purpose, the part on the level with the top deck forming the
galleries, to which the prisoners on that deck pass direct from their wards, while the body
of the little church is even with the middle deck, and accommodates the rest of the prisoners.
The pulpit is erected at the stem end of the chapel, between the two decks, and has a
bright brass reading lamp to it ; its cushions being covered with canvas. Pour more lamps
are suspended from the ceiling, the whole of the wood-work being painted to imitate oak.
It is in the body of this chapel that the black, slanting desks, with inkstand holes (the very
models of those which all boys remember with horror), are ranged for the daily school.
At the side of the pulpit is the prison library. The selection of books is suggestive.
Let us run over a few titles culled from the backs of the volumes—" Marcet's Conversations
on Hatural Philosophy," " Paley's works," " The Pursuit of Emowledge imder Difficul¬
ties," Sturm's "Reflections on the Works of God," "Persian Stories," "Recreations in
Physical Geography," "The Rites and Worship of the Jews," "The Penny-London
Reader," " Pirst Sundays at Church," " Stories from the History of Rome," " Short
Stories from the History of Spain," " Swiss Stories," " Scenes from English History,"
"RodweR's Pirst Steps to Scottish History," "Stories for Summer Days and Winter
Evenings," " Easy Lessons in Mechanics." There are in aU 1099 volumes upon the shelves.
In reply to our questions as to the books that are the most popular among the convicts,
and the rules on which they were issued, we were informed that each prisoner had a right
to have a book, and to keep it ten days. If he wanted it longer, he could generaRy renew
the time. The books most in demand were Chambers' pubRcations, and aR kinds of
histories and stories. Very few asked for Paley's " Moral PhRosophy."
" I think," continued our attendant warder, " that ' Chambers' MisceRany,' ' The
Leisure Hour,' and ' Papers for the People,' are generaRy preferred beyond other pubRca¬
tions. There is a great demand for them. We haven't got ' Dickens' Household Words,'
or I dare say it would be in request. The chaplain objects to it being in the Rbrary."
AR friends of education have scouted the idea long since, of leading uneducated men to
a love of books by such works as Paley's " Theology" or Sturm's " Reflections." These
are now generaRy regarded as the unread books of Literary institutes—^because difficult to
understand, and in no way appealing to the minds of the great majority of readers. Let
us, therefore, imagine a convict who has been rubbing the rust from cannon-baRs aR day
long, with a copy of Paley for his hour's amusement before he turns in. If he reads he
most probably wRl not understand. A distaste rather than a taste for reading is hereby
engendered. Yet books teaching kindly lessons, in the homely accidents of Rfe, and which
aR may read and comprehend, are hardly to be found upon the chaplain's Rbraiy shelf.
The school is divided into nine divisions. The flrst division, subdivided into sections
A and B, musters 110 men. The second division musters 55 men, and so on. The divisions,
as they attend the school, are generaRy so managed as to average 55 in number. Some
conviets, we were told, cannot read, and no teaching wiR make them. The teaching includes
reading, writing, and arithmetic, as far as "practice." In reply to our inquiry as to the
interval that elapsed between the convict's school-days, we were informed that the turn to
remain on board for lessons came round once in every nine or ten days.
The prisoners told-off for school now appeared on the ground-floor of the chapel, at the
black desks. They were weR-washed and brushed, and wore blue and white neckerchiefs,
and gray stockings barred with red stripes. The third division is in to-day. The school
begins with two psalms and a prayer.
" Now, attention for prayers !" is caRed out before they begin. Then the clerk reads
a chapter of St. Luke ; next the schoolmaster cites a verse from a psalm, and the men go
stammering after him. It is a melancholy sight. Some of the seholars are old bald-headed
men, evidenliy agricultural labourers. There, amid sharp-featured men, are dogged-looking
youths, whom it is pitiful to behold so far astray, and so young. And now the clerk who
220
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
read the prayers may be seen teaching the men ; but it is evidently hard work, and few, it
is to be feared, care for the school, further than for the physical repose it secures them.
We now passed to the little rooms off the wards, where a few prisoners were tailoring,
while others were making the solid shoes such as the working gangs in the arsenal wear.
We then advanced to the cabins ranged along the sides of the weather-deck. In one a
bookbinder was binding the ragged library volumes in black leather. " Take off your cap,
sir!" cried our attendant to the prisoner, as we appeared, " and go on with your work!"
Next we passed to the lamp-man's cabin, and found him trimming the night lamps for
CONVICTS SCRAPING SHOT.
the wards. Then we reached the carpenter's shop ; and there a gray-headed old prisoner
who was planing a deal-board, turned a melancholy face towards us as we entered.
Then we visited the linen-house, where two or three prisoners were arranging the linen of
the various wards in little tight rolls. We inquired how often the men had a change.
" They change their linen every week, and their flannels every fortnight," was the reply.
How gratifying to men who can remember the horrible filth in which, only a few years since,
the hulk convicts were allowed to remain.
There was not an idle man on board. Festoons of clothes were drying above our heads,
swung from the two stunted masts ; while across the main deck, lines of dark-brown string
were being twisted by a convict rope-maker, to be turned to account for the l^mmocks that
two other prisoners were mending in a little cabin hard by. Everywhere officers were
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
221
standing over the men at their labours, each warder being provided with his book, in which
he enters the men's industry, or want of energy. Their tone to the men was firm, but not
hard or harsh ; still they kept them to their task. Every prisoner we approached saluted us,
military fashion, then stood still tül the officer said, " Go on with your work, sir !—Go on
with your work !" when the men turned to their labour again.
The Working Parties in the Arsenal.—The governor now called his gig to the gangway
to carry us ashore to inspect the labourers in the arsenal. It was a smart little boat, and
the rowers were trimly dressed in white, with the word " Defence " printed roimd the legs
of their trousers. The men, with their glazed hats and ruddy faces, looked unlike convicts.
Their position is the reward of good conduct. They sit in a little deck-house close to the
the escape signal.
gangway, all day long, ready to be called out at any moment. The men volunteer for boat
service. Pirst, they are put into the water-boat, which conveys the well-water to and from
the shore ; from this service they are promoted to the provision cutter, which also takes off
the subordinate officers ; and then they reach a seat in the governor's gig. The men UTtp
this service, and are sent for misconduct—as when they use bad language—to labour on the
public works. We started for the arsenal once more, at a rapid pace ; the governor himself
steering the pretty gig with its white tiller ropes.
On landing, after passing by the heavy cranes, we came up with the first gang of prisoners
who were loading a bark alongside the quay. " These are the sloops that convey war-stoTes
to Sheemess," we were told. "And yonder black huU is a floating powder-magazine near
which no ship anchors." We remarked the absence of military sentries, and were told that
they had been withdrawn from the convicts working in the arsenal, although they still
mounted guard. Then the place is pointed out to us where the " Defence " once had a
222
THE GREAT WORLD GE LOKDOH.
■wasliing-liouse, •which has been taken a-way by the government ; together -with a vegetable
garden, ■where the con'vdcts formerly cultivated vegetables for the hulk, "UTo'w vre "wash
on board the little ' Sulpkue' hulk," continued our informant, "and dry on board our
o'wn ship."
"We walked into the grounds of the arsenal, and soon came up "with a second party of
prisoners at work digging out shot. As we approached, the officer in charge gave the governor
a military salute, saying—
"All right, sir—10-8." The 10 being, as we have already noticed, the number of the
gang, and 8 the strength of it. The governor, who knows what the strength of each gang is,
can thus assure himself of the presence of all the men. We next turned into the stone-yard,
the chosen ground of hard, dull, mechanical labour. Here there was a strong gang of men
breaking granite.
" All right ! how many ?" calls the governor.
"AU right, sir—8-9," answers the officer in charge. Then, seeing a free workman at
hand, the officer is told to keep him off. Here each man is doing task-work. Every con"vict
must break so many bushels, according to the size to which he is required to reduce them,
the size being measured by a wooden machine, through which they are passed. Thus, a man
breaking up the stones smaU, for a garden walk, must break two bushels daily, whereas a
man breaking them up less, must fiU four or six bushel measm'es.
We then passed on to huge stacks of valuable timber. " AU this," said our companion,
"has been piled by con"vict labour." Through fields of cannon lying in rows—here black as
charcoal, there red "with rust—past stacks of wheels and wheelless waggons, by sheds where
the air was impregnated with turpentine from the freshly-worked timber, under hea"vy cranes,
through mud, and sawdust, and shavings—^here hailing a gang turning a wheel, and there a
gang clearing rubbish—deep dowm a grove of conical heaps of rusty shells, where the men
were filing and poUshing them, we made our round of the convict working parties. AU of
them were busy. The officer takes care of that ; for he is fined one shiUing every time one
of his men is caught idUng, whUe the escape of one entaUs his dismissal.
Suddenly we came upon a guard whose duty it was to go the round of the gangs and
coUect the men who "wished to satisfy a caU of nature. Then we came upon an angle of the
arsenal wall against the Plumstead high-road, where we saw an armed guard "with his
carbine, marching rapidly backward and forward.
" How I shaU know directly whether aU is right," said the governor, as he raised his
hand. The sentinel instantly halted, presented arms, then raised his right hand.
"Had there been an escape," continued the governor, "he would have grasped his
carbine by the barrel, and held it aloft horizontaUy. That is the escape signal, and this man
is stationed here because escape would be easy over the wall to the high road. Only the
other day I caused a drain to be stopped up that led from the arsenal to the marshes ; for we
once had a hunt, that lasted aU day long, after two prisoners who got into that drain. We
caught them at its mouth by the Plumstead road.
It is exceedingly difficult to prevent attempts at escape, especiaUy whUe there are so
many free men in the arsenal. Last year there were no less than 14,000 free labourers
employed there, and these men taken on "without reference to character.
Here the attempts at escape, which prisoners had made from time to time, formed- for
some time the subject of our conversation.
"The convicts," we were told, "were generaUy assisted by the free labourers," who
deposited clothes for them in some convenient spot. The con"ñct slipped for a moment from
his gang, put the clothes on, and passed out of the arsenal gates "with the crowds of free
men. Or else he made a dash for it, bolted past the sentmels, swam the canal, reached the
marshes, and made off to the wood at hand. These attempts sometimes defied the utmost
vigilance of the officers. It was the duty of a guard, from whose gang a man escaped, to hasten
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
223
on board with the rest of his men (imless he can find an ofiicer to undertake this duty while
he runs after the lost man), and report the escape. We then signal to the police authorities by
telegraph, to Bow Street, Erith, Guildford, Ilford, Bexley Heath, and Shooter's Hill, so as
to surround bim with a band of vigilant policemen, and prevent his getting clear. It was
impossible to guard entirely against these attempts under this mixed system. They could not
prevent the men from talking by night. But how much worse was it imder the old system,
when some six hundred or seven hundred prisoners were crammed into a hulk smaller than
the " Defence," and with ordy one officer all night to watch them.
We inquired whether the men were very severely punished when they were lazy, and
were answered in the affirmative.
" They are sent here to labour," said the governor. " Here, officer, give me your labour-
book." This book contained on one side a description of the nature and quantity of the work
performed, and on the other the conduct of the men during the work. We were assured,
however, that the men have very seldom to be pimished for idleness. " They do twice as
much as free men," added the governor. " They work excellently."
We now turned from the busy arsenal, crossed the canal bridge, and approached the
little black wooden lodge of the policeman who guards the gate leading to the marshes. He
salutes us as we pass out to the marshes.
The scene, close by the gate, is singularly English. To the right lies the rising ground
of Plumstead, with its red square church-tower peeping from among the dense green cluster
of the trees; Below is a cluster of village houses, and beyond swells Abbey Wood up the
shelving ground ; while beyond this, again, and serving as background, rises Shooter's Hill,
capped by two or three surburban villas.
Right before us is a vast earth-work, all, as we are told, raised by convict labour ! It is
a 5-mortar battery. We approached it (crossing the range where the ordnance authorities try
their rifles at the butt, while that solitary man, far over the marshes, comes out of the
shed by the side of the mark, after every shot, and with a long pole marks the point
lût) and found the prisoners, with their brown jackets thrown off, and some with their legs
buried in water-boots, reaching to their thighs, digging the heavy, black, clayey soil, and
carrying it away in barrows, under the eyes of two guards, with their cutlasses at their sides
and two non-commissioned officers of the sappers and miners, who were directing the works.
^See engraving.)
" That's a nice circular cut, sir," said one of the non-commissioned officers, pointing to
the earth-work thrown up.
The governor then challenged the guards, who told off their numbers, and gave the
usual " All right ! " The bright red shell-jackets, and the caps with gay gold bands, stood
out in painful contrast with the dingy crew of unfortunate men they were directing. As
we looked on at the work going bravely forward, our attention was specially directed to the
healthy appearance of the men.
" See," said the governor, evidently not a little proud of their ruddy cheeks, " they are
not ill-looking men. I have to punish them very seldom. One or two of the men in the
stone-yard were old offenders, and they're the best behaved. There's a fine young chap
there, stript to the buff, and working away hard !"
The Convicts^ Bwial Ground.—We turned away, and went farther over the marshes,
the ground giving way \mder our feet; and presently we passed behind the butt, while the
Minié balls were whistling through the air, and that solitary man was marViTig the hits. Wq
approached a low piece of ground—^in no way marked off from the rest of the marsh ^in no
way distinguishable from any section of the dreary expanse, save that the long rank grass
had been turned, in one place lately, and that there was an upset barrow lying not far
off. Heavy, leaden clouds were rolling over head, and some heavy drops of rain pattefed
224
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LOKDOH.
upon our faces as we stood there. We thought it was one of the dreariest spots we had
ever seen.
" This," said the governor, " is the Convicts' Burial Groimd!"
We could just trace the rough outline of disturbed ground at our feet. Beyond this was
a shed, where cattle found shelter in bad weather ; and to the right the land shelved up
between the marsh and the river. There was not even a number over the graves ; the last,
and it was only a month old, was disappearing. In a few months, the rank grass will have
closed over it, as over the story of its inmate. And it is, perhaps, well to leave the names of
the unfortimate men, whose bones lie in the clay of this dreary marsh, unregistered and
unknown. But the feehng with which we look upon its desolation is irrepressible. "
THE CONVICTS' BURIAL-GROUND.
We followed the governor up the ridge that separates the marsh from the river, and
walked on, back towards the arsenal. As we walked along we were told, that under our
feet dead men's bones lay closely packed ; the ridge could no longer contain a body, and
that was the reason why, during the last five or six years, the lower groimd had been taken.
Then there is a legend—an old, old legend, that has passed down to the present time-
about a little pale-blue fiower, with its purple leaves—the "ruJmim Irniium"—which, it is
said, grows only over the convict's grave—a flower, tender and imobtrusive as the kindness
for which the legend gives it credit. Botanists, however, wiU of course ruthlessly destroy
the local faith that has given this flower value ; for they wiE tell you it is only a stunted
form of the "red dead nettle."
We pass from the graves—meet a perambulating guard, who signals " All right !" by
saluting and raising his hand—and then, recrossing the canal-bridge, where the convicts are
stacking wood, and the click and ring of bricklayers' trowels axe heard, relieved now and
then by the reports of the ordnance rifle-practice, we make our way towards the boat
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
225
saluted by the " All rights" and salutes of the officers of other Tverking parties that "we
pass by the way.
There are many objects to arrest our attention, as we go, from the exploded wrecks of
barrels, &c., lying for sale near the butt bank, where men
are digging shot out of the ground. We meet another
patrolling guard, who gives the "AH right" salute; and
whose duty it is, as soon as he hears of an escape, to dash
through the enclosure about the arsenal, and, waving his
carbine horizontally in the air, communicate the fact to the
sentries in the marshes.
Our way lies then by the rocket-sheds, rather celebrated
for accidents.
" Occasionally you see the men at work there," said the
governor, "rush out with their clothes aU in flames, and
dive into the canal. Only a month or so ago, two or three
sheds blew up, and the rockets were flying about all
amongst my men." As we passed, a workman, black as
gunpowder, appeared at the door of one of the sheds with a
sieve.
Close at hand to the rocket-sheds, were little powder
boats, like miniature Lord Mayor's barges, with the windows
blocked up and the gilding taken off.
" There are the cartridge-sheds, too ; and there the fire-
engines are always kept at the water's edge, in case of acci¬
dent, and with the hose ready in the water, as you see.
AH right, Mr. Watson?"
"AH right, sir! Ho. 3—10."
Here, opposite the gang of convicts just haüed, and
who were hard at work stacking planks, were some few idlers upon the top of a barge.
" Contrast the conduct of those feHows with my men," was the governor's observation.
" Their language is dreadful, as you can hear. You see, too, that new buHding, with
the taH, minaret chinmeys, flanked by low stacks, and with crimson tongues of flame
at top—^that's a sheH factory." There are shoots of white steam, and plumes of black
smoke issuing from it ; and as we advance past endless stacks of heavy timber arranged
by the convicts, we hear the rattle of machinery and the noise of wheels. Then as we
go by the large new buHding where mortars are to be cast, the governor approaches a gang,
and asks again—
" AH right, Mr. Jenning ?"
"AH right, sir ! 10—10," replies the offieer.
We now pass through sheds—large as railway stations—under which numerous piles of
timber are stacked, together with endless rows of wheelless carts, with their wheels stacked
opposite, and here we find the prisoners beginning to march in gangs towards the parade-
ground. " It is half-past eleven o'clock, and they must be on board the hulk to dinner at
noon precisely," says the governor to us. As we draw nearer and nearer to the parade-
groimd, we can see them filing along from different directions. There is no confasion on
reaching the spot, for each man knows his exact place. Then a strict search of the men
is made by the warders, to see that they have not secreted anything whüe at work ^the
men opening their waistcoats, ahd puHing off their cravats, as before, to facilitate the
operation.
The searching over, the men descend the stairs, in parties, to the cutters, and return to
the hiilk in the order in which they left her in the morning. Having made the tour of the
16
226
THE GBEAT WOHLD CE LOKDOH.
arsenal (wliicli, including the section of the marshes turned to use, measures 150 square
acres in extent), we also returned on board the hulk with the governor.
" Weigh all !" is the word of eommand. And in a few minutes we are at the " Defence "
gangway. The officers are hurrying the convicts on board.
" Now, Mr. B , bring your men up ! " A long-boat approaches, crammed with men
and warders.
"Hoist your oars!" cries an officer as the cutter touches the hulk. The warders land
first, and then they hurry the men up the gangway steps. As soon as they reach the deck
they advance, in single file, to their respective hatchways, and descend at once to their
wards.
The tread of these two himdred men sounds below almost Hke thunder rolling under the
decks ! They are at once locked up in their wards, where their tin mug and plate are
turned upside down, one upon the other, around each mess-table, previous to dinner.
The Convicts at Dinner and Leming for Work.—^Now men appear at the end of the
wards with large elothes-baskets full of bread.
" 3—7 ; 4—8 ; and 5—8 ! " cries the warder, as he dispenses the loaves to each mess.
The mess-men of these parties advance to the gate of the ward, and receive their proper
quantities for their respective messes. Some messes have a loaf and a quarter, others
two whole loaves, according to their numerical strength—the men dividing these quantities
themselves. There is also upon the mess-tables a deal-board to cut up the meat upon. A
man now comes below carrying knife-bags, and distributes them according to the number of
men in each compartment. After dinner they are cleaned, put back into the bags, and
returned to the proper officer. The men who have been on board all day were in their
wards, pacing to and fro, before their companions came pouring down from their arsenal work.
" To yoiu- table, men ! " cries the chief warder; and accordingly the men range them¬
selves in their proper seats.
"Now A ward !" is shouted down the hatchway. " Come on here—one, two, and
three !" A man from each mess answers the call. Presently these messmen are seen
returning, each carrying a small tub full of meat, and a net full of potatoes, together with the
supper bread. One man at each mess may now be seen serving out the potatoes into tin
plates. Then there is a cry of—" All up ! "
The men rise, and grace is said. When the men are re-seated, a man proceeds at once to
cut up the meat upon the mess-board. The dinner is now portioned out, and we are
informed that the men very rarely quarrel over the division of the allowed quantities. When
the meat is cut into eight or nine portions, as the ease may be, the meat-board is pushed into
the middle of the table, and each man takes the piece nearest to him. Then the peeling of
potatoes goes actively forward, and the men are soon fairly engaged upon their meal,
talking the while in a low, rumbling tone.
"Not too much talking there ! Süenee—silence here ! " cries the warder.
Since the morning, the top deck and the others have undergone a complete change. The
windows have been removed, and the atmosphere is fresh and pleasant.
The governor now went his rounds, and was saluted on all sides.
At length one o'clock sounded. At five minutes past we saw the guard go down the
gangway with fixed bayonets, followed by one of the principal warders.
"Now, then, turn the hands out, Mr. Webb, and man the gig !" was shouted.
In a few minutes the convicts began to stream up the deck from the hatchways, and to
move down the gangway in single file, to the cutters, as in the morning
" Oars up, here ! Oars up ! " shouts the guard in the cutter to the rowers, as the
first prisoners reach the water's edge. The boat carrying the guards—their bayonets
sparkling in the sim—and some officers too, is already off to receive the men on shore.
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
227
In a few minutes the two hundred men are on their way to the parade-groimd ; while on
board the officers are occupied in mustering the " boarders" and schoolmen.
Once more we push off in the governor's gig, as the sharp crack of the rifles in the
marshes reminds us that the ordnance men arc still practising at the butt
During the men's absence in the afternoon, the boarders carry the hammocks hack from
the houses ; and while we were watching this operation, our informant related to us the story
of a convict who, being employed in the chaplain's room, managed to cut up his black gown,
and manufacture it into a pair of black trousers. With only this garment upon him, he con¬
trived, one very dark and gusty night, to drop overboard, He swam clear off, and reached
a swamp, where he got entangled in a bed of rushes. Here he got frightened, and cried for
help. Some men in a barge, who were passing, picked him up, and suspecting that he was a
convict, delivered him up to the prison officers.
The convicts leave their afternoon's work at a quarter-past flve, so as to be all collected
by half-past, and before the free men leave. It was a pretty sight to see them re-embark
for the night ; for the slanting rays of the sun threw long shadows from the cutters over
the water, and the evening light sparkled warmly upon the tide, and danced as it caught
every polished point of the dense mass, while the boats advanced towards the hulk.
As we watched the cutters approach, we inquired into the regulations concerning the
receiving visits and letters from their friends by the convicts. In reply we were told that
they see their relatives once in three months, and that they are allowed to write every three
months. These meetings of the prisoners with their friends are held under the poop—^three
meetings taking place at a time. There are, however, no regular days for visits ; if a friend
calls while a man is away at labour, the authorities send for him. The regulations, we
should add, appear to be carried out with great consideration.
On the cutters reaching the hulk, the prisoners stream up the gangway in single flle as
before—then pour down the hatchways, into their respective wards, where gruel is at once
served out to them, and they are allowed to rest till chapel-time, at half-past six o'clock.
After chapel, at eight o'clock, the men are mustered in their wards—and the gates of
the wards locked for the night. When the officer cries, " The muster's over !" the men jump
up, the tables disappear, the forms are ranged along the sides of the ward, and each man
gets his hammock from the comer in which they were piled in the afternoon by the hoarders.
In a few minutes all the hammocks arc slung, and the men talking together. " The 4 divi¬
sion is for school to-morrow," cries an officer.
Shortly after this each man is beside his hammock, preparing for bed, and then they
are allowed to talk until nine o'clock ; hut directly the clock strikes, not another word is
heard. At nine o'clock the two officers to each deck arc relieved by the night officer, and
the men are in bed. There are also four guards who relieve one another through the night,
at the gangway.
At nine o'clock the countersign is given out by the governor to the chief warder, the
chief warder giving it to the officers on the watch, so that after this hour nobody can move
about the ship without it.
AH is quiet. We hear once more the gurgling of the water about the hulk. Over towards
the arsenal, the warm red lights of the Httle white pier stand out prettily against the dark
shore, and there are bright lights shining over the crumpled water, in little golden paths.
The shore, too, is studded with lights as with jewels.
We are informed that the coimtersign for the night is " Smyrna." Then we hear the
loud metallic ring of two hells. "Nine o'clock!" cries the warder. Now there is not a
soimd heard below, but the occasional tramp of footsteps over-head. The men, as they lie
in their hammocks, look like huge cocoons. The principal warder tries all the locks of the
wards, and at ten o'clock the hatches are padlocked for the mght, and the day's duties are
ended.
16'
228
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
1 iü—8.
The " Unité" Hospital Ship.
"While the men were performing their afternoon labours in the arsenal, we found time to
go, in the captain's gig, on board the convicts' hospital ship, the "Unité"—or "Uneet,
according to the local pronunciation.
The " Unité " hospital ship, moored to the " Defence," is an old 36-gun frigate, taken from
the French. The officers who steered us on hoard bade us examine the beauty of her build.
This ship is excellently arranged, and has large airy decks, along which iron bedsteads
are placed, at sufficient distances, for the reception of the sick men from the " Defence" and
" Waheioe" labour hulks. The vessel is cleaned by a few healthy convicts; while some of
the convalescents, in their blue-gray dresses and odd comical night-caps, are employed as
nurses. The top deck is a fine spacious room, covered with matting, and lighted by wide,
barred port-holes.
The invalid bedsteads were ranged on either side of the deck from one end to the other,
and at the head of them there were small places for books. " Here the temperature in the
winter months," said the master, "is kept up to sixty."
We passed one man in bed, who was coughing. It was a case of phthisis. He had
chloride of lime hanging all round him, to destroy the odour of the expectoration. Then
there was another poor fellow, with his head lying upon a pHLow, placed upon a chair at
the side of the bed, who had a disease of the heart, and had been spitting blood. The
convalescents, in their queer, blue-gray gowns, draw up at the end of their beds as we
move along, and salute us. Another man lies in bed, wearing a night-cap, marked
" Hospital he has a broken leg.
Another, of whom we asked the nature of his iUness, replied, "Asthmatical, sir!"
" Two healthy prisoners are employed on each deck," said the master, " to act as nurses.
One of the convalescents acts as barber. That's he, with his belt round his waist fiUed
with sheaths and razors."
Then we visited the place where the convalescents assemble for prayers, morning and
evening. "We have twenty-four in hospital to-day," the master added ; "five were dis¬
charged this morning. There is plenty of ventilation, you perceive. A perfect draught is
kept up, by means of tubes, right through the ship. We were told that a Bible and Testa¬
ment were placed at the head of each bed ; and we saw one convict reading " Eecreations
in Astronomy."
We inquired about the scale of diet. In reply the master said, "The man so bad,
up-stairs, has 2 eggs, 2 pints of arrowroot and mük, 12 ounces of bread, 1 ounce of butter,
6 ounces of wine, 1 ounce of brandy, 2 oranges, and a sago-pudding daily. Another man
here is on half a sheep's head, 1 pint of arrowroot and milk, 4 oimces of bread, 1 ounce
of butter, 1 pint extra of tea, and 2 ounces of wine daily. Here is the scale of fuU diet
for convalescents :—
Bbeaxfast.
Dinnee.
4 ounces of bread.
5 pint of milk.
2 ounces of oatmeal gruel.
8 ounces of bread.
8 ounces of mutton (uncooked).
1 pound of potatoes.
4 ounces of bread.
One-sixth of an ounce of tea.
¿ ounce of sugar.
^ pint of milk.
SUPPEE.
I oimce of salt.
J pint of porter.
I pint of soup."
THE CONVICTS EETÜKKING TO THE HULKS EKOM THEIE LABOUR IN THE AESENAL.
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
229
The healthy men employed on board the "Unité " muster twenty strong, including the
boatmen, cooks, and washermen. There are nine warders, an infirmary warder, and principal.
The night-watches begin at half-past five, at which hour half the officers leave the ship, and
return at seven o'clock on the following morning. The principal, however, lives on board,
and there is also a resident surgeon.
Erom the directors' report in 1854, we learn that there were on board, on the 1st of
January in that year, 58 patients; that in the course of that year 675 patients were
admitted ; that in the course of the same year 658 patients were discharged ; that two
patients were pardoned on medicEil grounds ; that 25 died ; that two patients were invalided
to the " Stirling Castle;" and that on the 31st of December, 1854, there were 36 patients
left in the hospital.
1Í üi—e.
The " Svlphur " Waehing Sulk.
Prom the "Unité" we proceeded, in the gig of the governor of the "Defknce," past old
steamers, low wharves, flaunting little river-side public-houses, towards the great bulging
hulk of the " Waeeioe." But before being landed at the dockyard steps, to go on board the
model hulk, we pulled aside to a little, low, dingy ship, which serves as a floating wash-tub
to the Woolwich hulks.
This old sloop of war, once carrying thirty guns, has now fifteen convicts on board, under
the orders of a master, whose business it is to wash the clothes of the men in the " Waeeioe "
and " Deience " hulks. There are three washermen, one blacksmith, and two stocking-
menders here employed. On deck there was a solitary soldier keeping guard. The maindeck
was very wet. Forward there were large square black water-tanks, and beside these a corru¬
gated iron blacksmith's shop, with an old convict filing away inside. Bundles of convicts'
stockings lie waiting to be mended near the poop, while lines, ornamented with linen, dangle
over-head. Below, between the low decks, we groped our way, in the deep gloom, amid damp
clothes—^past men mending stockings, others folding convict clothes, and tying them up into
rolls ready to be worn—in the steam and smell of clothes drying by heat, past capacious vats
and boilers, all half-hidden, and looking terrible, because dark and spectral-like.
The warder in charge of the old sloop showed us over his dingy kingdom with great
courtesy, and answered our many questions with excellent good-humour. He told us that
all the convicts employed with him throughout the day slept on board the "Waeeioe"
opposite. He alone remained on board all night.
We pushed off from the " Stjipiiur," thanking the warder for his courtesy, and pulled
for the dockyard steps alongside the " Waesioe."
1Í üi—
The " Warrior" Sulk.
This great hulk—an old 74-gun ship, upwards of sixty years of age, which has been the
subject of annual remonstrances from the prison directors to tiie government for some time past
230
THE GBEAT "WOELD OE LONDON.
and the ribs of which, it is said, hardly hold together—is moored alongside the dockyard,
with her head towards London, and serves to house the convicts who work in the dock¬
yard.
"We have so fully described the hiilk system on hoard the "Defence," which differs in
no important particular from that pursued on board the " Wabeioe," that it will be unnecessary
to do more than glance at the general arrangements of this ship. Even the employment of the
prisoners in the dockyard differs little in character from that performed by the convicts who
work in the arsenal.
The distribution of the prisoners' time closely resembles that on board the " Defence,"
there being 2 hours given to meals ; 9 hours and 5 minutes to work ; and 4 hours
and 25 minutes to in-door occupation throughout the summer; while in the winter the
meals occupy 2 hours and 5 minutes ; work, 7 hours and 55 minutes ; and the in-door occu¬
pation, 5 hours.
The " Waeeioe" is reached, from the dockyard, by a gallery projecting from the quay to
the gangway. At the end of the compartment under the forecastle is a large iron palisading,
with two gates, which are securely padlocked at night.
"The ship," our attendant-warder informs us, "is lighted by gas—the only one in
the world, perhaps, that is so." This is owing to the close contiguity of the vessel to the
shore.
The top deck has a fine long wide passage. The wards are divided into two messes, and
contain two tables each. The other arrangements are the same as in the "Defence." Here,
however, each ward has its little library ; and every man has a Bible, a prayer-book, a hymn-
book, and a library-book ; the last he gets from the schoolmaster. Each ward, too, has
a solid bulkhead, which prevent the authorities having too large a body of prisoners together.
There is a gas-light at the bulkhead between each ward, so arranged as to light two wards
at once, while the passage is darkened, so that the officer on duty can see the men, while
they cannot see him.
The middle deck is very fine and spacious, the passage being about five feet in width.
There are eight wards on the top deck, ten in the middle deck, and fourteen on the lower
deck.
The ship can accommodate four hundred and fifty men. There are now four hundred
and forty-nine men in her, and out of this number only ten in the hospital. At the head end
of the middle deck is a shoemaker's shop, where we found the convicts mending prisoners'
shoes ; while opposite them is the tailor's shop, and here the workers were repairing shirts
and flannels.
The lower deck is also a fine long deck, reaching right from the head to the stem. There
is a current of air right through it. It is, however, very low. At the fore-part of this
deck, on one side, is the carpenter's shop; while the seven refractory cells occupy the
opposite side.
A black label hangs at each door of the dark cells, and upon this is chalked the name and
punishment of the inmate. One runs thus :—" In for 4 days ; B and "W (bread and water) ;
in 19th, out 23rd." The next man is in for seven days, with bread and water, for having
attempted to escape ; and a third prisoner is also in for seven days, for extreme insolence
to the governor and warders. We now passed on to the chapel, the surgery, &c., and entered
the schoolmaster's cabin, where we saw the same class of books as we noted down on board
the "Defence."
The school classes are divided into eleven divisions, arranged according to the ability of
the men. All the men have half a day's schooling each per week. All take three lessons,
viz., one hour's reading, one hour's writing, and one hour's arithmetic. Here we found some
trying in vain to write, while one was engaged upon a letter beginning, " Dear brother."
THE HULKS AT WOOLWICH.
231
The copies the men -were making were generally better than one conid expect.* We noticed
also the chapel clerks, who were convicts with silver-gray hair, and appeared to belong to a
better class. They write letters or petitions, we were told, for the prisoners who are imable
to do so themselves. One of these clerks had been a medical man, in practice for himself
during twenty-five years, while the other had been a clerk in the Post-office. The clerk had,
been transported for fourteen years ; and the medical man had been sentenced to four years'
penal servitude.
The working parties here are arranged as in the arsenal, only the strongest men are
selected for the coal-gang, invalids being put to stone-breaking. In the dockyard there are
BtiU military sentries attached to each gang of prisoners. We glanced at the parties work¬
ing, amid the confusion of the dockyard, carrying coals, near the gigantic ribs of a skeleton
ship, stacking timber, or drawing carts, like beasts of burden. How we came upon a
labouring party, near a freshly pitched gun-boat, deserted by the free labourers, who had
struck for wages, and saw the weU-known prison brown of the men carrying timber from the
saw-mills. Here the officer caUed—as at the arsenal—" AU right, sir ! 27—10." Then
there were parties testing chain cables, amid the most deafening hammering. It is hard,
very hard, labour the men are performing.
• STATESÍENT SHOWING THE PMSONEES' FROQKESS AT SCHOOL ON BOAKD THE " WABBIOH " HULK DUBINa
THE YEAB 1854.
Date of Reception.
Could not read when
received.
1 Since learned to read
imperfectly.
Could read only when
received.
Since learned to read and
write imperfectly.
Could read and write
in^erfectly when re.
ccived.
Since learned to read
and write well.
Have made progrcBs in
arithmetic.
Could read and write
well when received.
Were well educated
when received.
Total.
January 4, 1854 . .
February 24 „ . .
March 14 „ . .
„ 24 ,, . .
April 20 „ . .
» 27 „ . .
May 1 „ . .
»1 3 ,, . .
June 7 „ . .
„ 15 „ . .
August 14 „ . .
>1 28 „ . .
October 11 „ . .
„ 20 ,, . .
2
9
1
3
5
2
3
7
3
6
1
1
2
1
5
1
1
4
2
2
4
3
6
1
1
1
8
6
2
2
5
1
1
3
12
2
5
1
2
4
6
5
1
2
5
1
1
3
9
2
5
1
2
4
6
12
1
5
5
3
2
1
10
7
3
10
5
6
11
1
5
5
3
2
1
8
7
3
9
4
3
5
1
2
3
2
1
2
6
2
4
2
3
12
3
2
3
5
7
2
4
7
9
1
1
16
39
4
10
15
10
5
10
34
12
20
9
21
20
„ ^7
November 2
»♦ • •
t9 • •
1
4
1
3
3
3
3
z
8
1
18
1» 3
December 19
» •
» •
1
2
—
6
—
13
=
7
—
1
28
Totals . .
53
33
63
50
86
68
36
69t
2t
273
+ Those who could " read and write well" when received, or were " well educated," have since made
coosidt rabie progress in arithmetic and other subjects.
232
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOKDON.
BIRD'8-ETE VIEW OF MILLBANK PRISON.
(Copied from a Model by the Clerk of the Works.)
^ iv.
MILLBANK PRISON—THE CONVICT DEPOT.
Millbank Prison is only approached by land, in the case of the unfortunate convicts who
are taken there. The visitor instinctively avoids the uninteresting route down Parhament
Street, Abingdon Street, and the dreary Horseferry Eoad, and proceeds to the prison by
water.
"We will suppose him to do as we did, take the boat at Hungerford Stairs, with which
view, he must pass through the market of the same name, which is celebrated for its
penny ices ("the best in England"), and its twopenny omnibuses (direct to the towns styled
Camden and Kentish Town), and also known as the great "West-end emporium for fish
(including periwinkles and shrimps), flesh, and fowl. This classic spot was formerly
remarkable for its periwinkle market, the glory of which, however, has now altogether
departed.
The " Spacious Hall," in which the periwinkle traffic was once carried on, is now, as a
very prominent placard informs us, once more "To be let." When the Cockney taste for
periwinkles appeared to be dying out, the haU in question was made the receptacle for
various models, which possessed no sort of interest to the sight-seer ; after which
it was converted into a "Mesmeric Saloon," which took an equally slight hold on the
public mind. Then it was the site of various other failures, and recently it became a
Eegistration and Advertisement Agency, but, as it was imposible to descend any lower in
the scale of inutility, it was, on this scheme being abandoned, finally closed, and there is now
some probability of its exterior being turned to advantage as a hoarding for the exhibition of
external rather than internal placards.
Passing along the arcade, with its massive granite pillars, we notice the " Epping
House," celebrated for Epping and other provincial butters so skilfully manufactured in
London. Then suddenly our eyes and noses are attracted by the " Hot Meat anb Fruit Pees,"
exposed on a kind of fishmonger's board, in front of an open window, which also exhibits
an announcement to the effect that there is a " Oenteel Dining-Eoom Hp-stairs."
Then come the poulterers' shops, with the live cocks and hens in coops, and the
scarlet combs and black plumage of the birds peeping through the wicker-baskets at the
door, while dead geese, with their limp fiufify necks, are hanging over the shelves of the open
shop.
MILLBANK PEISON.
233
At the comer is the grand penny ice shop, the "Tortoni's," of Hungerford. Boys are
feasting within, and scooping the frozen syrnp in spoonfuls out of the diminutive glasses,
while hlack-chinned and dark-eyed Italians are moulding their "gaufres," in large flat
curling irons, above a portable stove.
Before reaching the bridge we notice a row of enterprising fishmongers who are specu¬
lating in the silveiy salmon, the white-beUied turbot, the scarlet lobster, the dun-coloured
crab, and the mackerel with its metallic green back, and who salute the passers-by,
as they hurry to catch the boat, with subdued cries of " Wink, winks !" or "Any fine serrimps
to-day!"
The subterranean music-hall nt the southern extremity of the market, promises unheard-
of attractions for the evening. The Dolphin and Swan Taverns, on either side, used to be
rivals, in the days when holiday-makers, in the absence of steam-boat accommodation,
used to drink and smoke^ and pick periwinkles, on the roofs " commanding a fine view (of
the mud) of the river," and fancy the stench was invigorating and refreshing, as they
sparingly threw their halfpence to the mud-larks, who disported themselves so ioyously in
the filth beneath.
Carefully avoiding the toll-gate, we proceed along a narrow passage by the side, formed
for the benefit of steam-boat passengers. The line of placards beside the bridge-house
celebrates the merits of " Down's BIats," and " Coopee's Magic PoETnAirs," or teach us
how Gordon Gumming (in Scotch attire) saves his feUow-creatures from the jaws of
roaring lions by means of a flaming firebrand.
We hurry along the bridge, with its pagoda-like piers, which serve to support the iron
chains suspending the platform, and turn down a flight of winding steps, bearing a consider¬
able resemblance to the entrance of a vault or cellar.
On the covered coal barges, that are dignified by the name of the floating pier, are
officials in imiform, with bands round their hats, bearing mysterious inscriptions, such as
L. and W. S. B. G., the meaning of which is in vain guessed at by persons who have only
enough time to enable them to get off by the next boat, and who have had no previous
acquaintance with the London and Westminster Steam Boat Company. The words " Pat
Heee " are inscribed over little wooden houses, that remind one of the retreats generally
foimd at the end of suburban gardens ; and there are men within to receive the money and
dispense the " checks," who have so theatrical an air, that they appear like money-takers
who have been removed in their boxes to Hungerford Stairs from some temple of the legiti¬
mate drama that has recently become insolvent.
We take our ticket amid cries of "Now then, mum, this way for Gremiome !" " Go's
for TJngerford?" "Any one for Lambeth or Chelsea?" and have just time to set foot on the
boat before it shoots through the bridge, leaving behind the usual proportion of persons who
have just taken their tickets in time to miss it.
Barges, black with coal, are moored in the roads in long parallel fines beside the bridge
on one side the river, and on the other there axe timber-yards at the water's edge, crowded
with yellow stacks of deal. On the right bank, as we go, are seen the shabby-looking lawns
at the back of Privy Gardens and Bichmond Terrace, which run down to the river, and which
might be let out at exorbitant rents if the dignity of the proprietors would only allow them
to convert their strips of sooty grass into " eligible" coal wharves.
Westminster Bridge is latticed over with püe-work; the red signal-boards above the
arches point out the few of which the passage is not closed. The parapets are removed,
and replaced by a dingy hoarding, ahoye which the tops of carts, and occasionally the driver
of a Hansom cab may be seen passing along.
After a slight squeak, and a corresponding jerk, and amid the cries from a distracted boy
of "Ease her!" "Stop her!" "Back her!" as if the poor boat were suffering some sudden
pain, the steamer is brought to a temporary halt at Westminster pier.
234
THE GEEAT WOHLD OF LONDON.
Then, as the boat dashes with a loud noise through one of the least unsound of the arches
of the bridge, we come in front of the New Houses of Parliament, with their architecture
and decorations of Gothic biscuit-ware. Here are the tall clock-tower, with its huge empty-
sockets for the reception of the clocks and its scaffolding of bird-cage work at the top, and
the lofty massive square tower, like that of Cologne Cathedral, surmounted -with its cranes.
Behind is the white-looking Abbey, -with its long, straight, black roof, and its pinnacled
towers ; and a little farther on, behind the grimy coal wharves, is seen a bit of St. John's
Church, -with its four stone turrets standing up in the air, and justifying the popular com¬
parison which likens it to an inverted table.
On the Lambeth side we note the many boat-builders' yards, and then "Bishop's Walk,"
as the embanked esplanade, -with its shady plantation, adjoining the Archbishop's palace,
is called. The palace itself derives more picturesqueness than harmony from the differences
sting in the style and colour of its architecture, the towers at the one end being gray and
worm-eaten, the centre reminding us somewhat of the Lincolns' Inn dining-hall, while the
motley character of the edifice is rendered more thorough by the square, massive, and dark
ruby-coloured old bricken tower, which forms the eastern extremity.
The yellow-gray stone turret of Lambeth church, close beside the Archbishop's palace,
warns us that we are approaching the stenches which have made Lambeth more celebrated
tVinn the very dirtiest of German towns. During six days in the week the effluvium from
the bone-crushing establishments is truly nauseating ; but on Fridays, when the operation of
glazing is performed at the potteries, the united exhalation from the south bank produces
suffocation, in addition to sickness—the combined odours resembling what might be expected
to arise from the putrefaction of an entire Isle of Dogs. The banks at the side of the river
here are hned with distilleries, gas works, and all sorts of factories requiring chimneys of
preternatural dimensions. Potteries, -with kUns showing just above the roofs, are succeeded
by whiting-racks, with the white lumps shining through the long, pitchy, black bars ; and
huge tubs of gasometers lie at the feet of the lofty gas-works. Everything is, in fact, on a
gigantic scale, even to the newly-white washed factory inscribed "Ford's Waterproofing
Company," which, with a rude attempt at inverted commas, is declared to be " limited."
On the opposite shore we see Chadwick's paving-yard, which is represented in the river
by several lines of barges, hea-vily laden with macadamized granite ; the banks being
covered with paving stones, which are heaped one upon the other like loaves of bread.
Ahead is Vauxhall bridge, with its open iron work at the sides of the arches, and at its
foot, at the back of the dismal Horseferry Eoad, lies the Mülbank prison.
This immense yeUow-brown mass of brick-work is surrounded by a low waU of the
same material, above which is seen a multitude of small squarish windows, and a series
of diminutive roofs of slate, like low retreating foreheads. There is a systematic irregularity
about the in-and-out aspect of the building, which gives it the appearance of a gigantic
puzzle ; and altogether the Mülbank prison may be said to be one of the most successM
realizations, on a large scale, of the ugly in architecture, being an imgainly combination of
the mad-house "with the fortress style of buüding, for it has a series of marteUo-like towers,
one at each of its many angles, and was originally surrounded by a moat, whilst its long
lines of embras-ure-like -windows are barred, after the fashion of Bedlam and St. Luke's.
At night the prison is nothing but a dark, shapeless structure, the hugeness of which is
Twailp. more apparent by the bright yeEow specks which shine from the casements. The Thames
then rolls by lika a flood of ink, spangled with the reflections from the lights of YauxhaU
bridge, and the deep red lamps from those of the Millbank pier, which dart do-wnwards into
the stream, bkn the luminous trails of a rocket reversed. The taU obeliskine chimneys
of the southern bank, which give Lambeth so Egyptian an aspect, look more colossal than
ever in the darkness ; while the river taverns on either side, at which amateurs co^egate to
enjoy the pwepect and fragrance of the Thamesian mud, exhibit clusters of Eght which
MILLBAKK PEISOK.
235
attract the eye from one point to another, along the hanks, until it rests at last upon West¬
minster bridge, where each of the few arches which remain " practicable " for steam-hoats
and barges is indicated by a red lamp, which glares from the summit of the vault like a
hlood-shot eye.
t iv—a.
Flan, Sistory, and of the Prison.
Millhank prison was formerly guarded, as we said, like a fortress, by a wide moat,
which completely surrounded the exterior wall. This moat has been filled up, and the earth
has yielded a tolerably large crop of long, rank grass, of the kind peculiar to graveyards,
bearing ample testimony to the damp and marshy nature of the soil. The narrow circle of
meadow, which marks where the moat formerly ran, seems to afford very satisfactory grazing
to the solitary cow that may be occasionally seen within its precincts.
The ground-plan of the prison itself resembles a wheel, of which the governor's house
in the centre forms th»nave, while each two of the spokes constitute the sides of six long
pentagons with triangular bases, and divergent sides of equal length, at the end of each of
which stands a turret or tower, with a conical slate roof, and a numbér of vertical sHts for
windows. From the two towers the lateral lines converge at equal inclinations towards the
apex, so that each of the pentagonal figures presents a triangular front. {See Ground-plan,
p. 237.)
Millhank Prison is a modification of Jeremy Bentham's " Panoptiken, or Inspection
House." The ground on which it stands was purchased from the Marquis of Salisbury, in
1799, for £12,000; and the building itself, which was commenced in 1812, cost half a
million. It is now the general depot for persons under sentence of transportation, or
waiting to be drafted to government jails, and is the largest of the London prisons.
The entire ground occupied by the establishment is sixteen acres in extent, seven of
which are taken up by the prison itself, and the buildings and yards attached to it, while
the remainder is laid out in gardens, which are cultivated by the convicts.
It was originally built for the confinement of 1,200 prisoners in separate cells, but since
the separate system has been partially abandoned, larger numbers have been admitted, and it
is at present adapted for the reception of about 1,300.
When Jeremy Bentham first proposed the establishment of the penitentiary, his plan
was announced as one " for a new and less expensive mode of employing and reforming
convicts." Although the prison was of course to remain a place of penal detention, it was
at the same time to be made a kind of convict workshop, in which the prisoners were to be
employed in various trades and manufactures, and to be allowed to apply a portion of their
earnings to their own use.
Part of Bentham's system consisted in placing the prisoners under constant surveillance.
Prom a room in the centre of the building, the governor, and any one else who was admitted
into the interior, were to see into all parts of the building at aU periods of the day, while
a reflecting apparatus was even to enable them to watch the prisoners in their cells at
night. There was a contrivance also for putting the visitor into immediate oral communi¬
cation with any of the prisoners. This, from the beginning, proved a failure, considered
only as a piece of mechanism.
Bentham's plan of constant and general inspection—^his " panopticon principle of super¬
vision," as it was called, " was referred to a Parliamentary Committee, in 1810, and, aftm-
some discussion, flnaUy rejected."
In 1812, two years after the abandonment of Bentham's scheme, which provided for the ac-
236
THE GEEAT "WOELD OE LOHDOH.
commodation of 600 convicts, it-was determined to erect a penitentiary for the reception of 1,200
convicts on the ground which the panopticon was to have occupied, and to aEow each con-vict
a separate cell. This prison, or collection of prisons—for it consisted of several departments,
each of which was entirely distinct—was commenced in 1813, and finished in 1821.
According to the discipline adopted in the new prison, "each convict's time of imprisoment
was divided into two portions ; during the former of these he was confined in a separate
cell, in which he worked and slept." The separation, however, even under the strictest
seclusion, was not complete; the prisoners congregated, from time to time, during the
period allotted for working at the miUs or water-machines, or while taking exercise in the
airing-ground, and on these occasions it was found utterly impossible to prevent intercourse
among them. After remaining in the separate class for eighteen months or two years, the
prisoners were removed to the second class, in which they laboured in common. The evil
tendency of this regulation soon became apparent, and, as in the case at Gloucester, the
governer and chaplain remonstrated against it, aEeging that the good efifects produced by
the operation of the discipline enforced in the first class, were speedily and utterly done
away with on the prisoner's transfer to the second. The evil was so strongly represented
in the superintendent's committee, that in March, 1832, the second class was aboEshed, and
new regulations were made in order to render the separation hetwaßn the prisoners more
complete and effectual.
In time of the "penitentiary" system, the governor of the prison was a reverend
gentleman, who placed an undue reliance on the efiicacy of reUgious forms. The prisoners,
independently of their frequent attendance in the chapel, were suppEed, more than plenti¬
fully, -with tracts and rcEgious hooks, and, in fact, taught to do nothing but pray. Even
the warders were put to read prayers to them in their ceEs, and the convicts taking their
cue from the reverend governor, with the readiness which always distinguishes them, were
not long in assuming a contrite and devout aspect, which, however, found no paraUel in
their conduct. As the most successful simulator of holiness became the most favoured
prisoner, sanctified looks were, as a matter of course, the order of the day, and the most
desperate convicts in the prison found it advantageous to complete their criminal character
by the addition of hypocrisy.
This irrational and demoralizing system ceased -with the reign of the reverend governor.
Ey the Act 6 and 7 Yict. c. 26, it was provided that the General Penitentiary at MiU-
hank should be caEed the MiEbank Prison, and used as a receptacle for such con-victs imder
sentence or order of transportation as the Secretary of State might direct to he removed
there. " They are to continue there," adds the Pirst Eeport of the MElhank Prison (Jrdy
31, 1844), in which an abstract of the act is given, " untE transported according to law or
conditionaEy pardoned, or untE they become entitled to their freedom, or are directed by the
Secretary of State to be removed to any other prison or place of confinement in which they
may be lawfuEy imprisoned;" thus appropriating this extensive penal institution as a dépôt
for the reception of aE con-victs under sentence or order of transportation in Great Britain, in
Eeu of their being sent directly, as heretofore, to the hulks.
Although many of the prisoners here are now aEowed to work together, or "placed in
association," as would he said in prison phraseology, the majority of them are kept in separate
confinement. Every prisoner is supplied -with moral or reEgious instruction. Prisoners,
not of the EstahEshed Church, may obtain leave to he absent from the chapel, and CathoEcs
hear service regularly performed by a minister of their o-wn reEgion.
Each prisoner is employed, unless prevented by sickness, in such work as the governor
may appoint^ every day except Sundays, Christmas Day, Good Friday, and every day ap¬
pointed for a general fast, or thanksgiving ; the hours of work in each day being limited to
twelve, exclusive of the time aEowed for meals. Prisoners attend to the cleaning of the
• Report of Parliamentary Committee on Penitentiary House, 1811.
MILLBAIÍK PEISON.
237
prison, under the superintendence of the warders, and some also assist in the kitchen and
bakehouse imder the direction of the bakers and cooks.
The conduct of each prisoner is carefully watched and noted, and the most deserving
receive a good-conduct badge to wear on their dress after they have been a certain time in
the prison.
Mülbank prison, as we have before said, consists of six pentagons which converge towards
the centre. On entering the outer gate, pentagon 1 is the first on the right, pentagon 2 the
second, and so on until we reach pentagon 6, the last of the radii of thç circle, and which is
immediately on the left of the entrance.
Pentagon 1 contains the reception-ward, in which the prisoners are all confined sepa¬
rately.
In pentagon 2 the prisoners work at various trades in separate cells.
Pentagon 3 is devoted to the women, who are for the most part in separation.
In pentagon 4 both the separate and associated systems are pursued. This pentagon
contains the infirmary.
Pentagon 5, besides its cells for separate confinement, contains the general ward,
which consists of four cells knocked into one. This ward is looked upon with a favourable
eye by the " old hands," who are well acquainted with the prison habits, and endeavour to
238
THE GEEAT WOELD OF lOHDON.
gain admission to it for the sake of the conversation vfhich takes place there, and which, in
spite of the " silent system," can never he altogether put a stop to.
There are three floors in each of these pentagons, and four wards on each floor.*
• We give, as usual, the following—
STATEMENT OF THE NUMBER AND DISPOSAL OP THE CONVICTS KECEIVED INTO MILLBANK PRISON
THROUGHOUT THE YEAR 1864.
Male Fritofiers.
The number of male prisoners remaining, on
the 1st January, 1864, was
The number received during the year :—
From Dartmoor convict prison was
„ Portsmouth „
„ Brixton „
„ Dorchester barracks
„ " Warrior" convict hulk
„ " Defence" „
„ Stirling Castle „
In contract :—
Leicester county
From county and borough jails .
„ Lunatic asylum
Soldiers under sentence of transportation
by courts-martial
Total
948
4
4
25
392
2
2
68
2
971
2
41
2,461
These prisoners had been disposed of as fol¬
lows, viz.:—
To Parkhurst prison ... 49
„ Pentonville „ . . .196
„ Philanthropic asylum . . 6
251
To public works :—
Portland prison
Portsmouth ,,
Brixton „
" Warrior" hulk
" Defence" „
Dorchester barraclis
Deceased ....
Transferred to a lunatic asylum
Pardoned, free
Licensed
Conditional pardon
As invalids :—
To the " Stirling Castle" hulk
„ Dartmoor prison
Number remaining, 31st Dec., 1864
92
185
1
20
97
700
61
10
3
73
1
112
168
1,096
138
280
697
2461
Female Prisoners.
Bemaioing in prison on 1st Jan., 1864 198
Disposed of as follows :—
Transferred to Female Prison
Brixton ....
Discharged and licensed
Died
at
178
19
1
198
The greatest number of male prisoners in confinement at any one time was—
On 10th August .... . 1,126
Daily average throughout the year
Males • . 702-8
" It will be remembered," says the report, "that, in the above tables, 700 convicts were removed to Dor¬
chester barracks ; and this took place between the 13th and 17th August, the cholera having broken out on
the 3rd of that month.
" The cholera having ceased in this prison, such convicts as remained at Dorchester, amounting to 392, were
brought back to Millbank in the months of November and December, and, on the 28th December, Dorchester
barracks were finally given over to the Ordnance authorities."
The 700 convicts removed to Dorchester were disposed of as follows :—
Died 1
Bemoved to Pentonville ...» 8
Parkhurst .... 70
Portsmouth .... 99
Portland 130
MiUbank 392
>1
II
II
II
700
1
IBaÄffiMÄDS
^;ïr/\K.
THE CHAPEL AT BRIXTON.
MILLBANK PRISON.
239
There is an officer to every two wards, and each ward contains thirty ceUs, one of which
is a store cell. Every floor has its instmcting officer, though nothing but tailoring is taught,
and prisoners who wish to learn some other trade, must get leave to enter a ward where
there is some officer capable of giving them the desired instruction. All the cells are well
ventilated, and the prison is kept scrupulously clean ; but the site of the building is low and
marshy, and although enormous sums have been spent in draining the soü, its dampness
still renders it very unhealthy—as may be seen by the following comparison of the number
of cases of illness occurring in the several convict prisons throughout the MetropoKs :—
table showing the per cent/ige of cases of illness to the gross population of each of the
metropolitan convict prisons in the year 1854.
Name op Prison.
Gross
prison
population
throuffh-
out the
year.
N umber of eases of sickness
throughout the year.
No. of
Clises of
sickness
to every
100
prisoners.
Slighter
cases in
wards or
cells.
Cases
treated in
the
infirmary.
Total.
Pentonville
Brixton
Hulks Defence" and " TFarrior")
Millbank (including females) .
Total
925
604
1,513
2,659
1,714
9,472
29,874
11,890
18
155
675
944
1,732
9,627
30.549
12,834
187-2
1449-8
2019-1
482-6
5,761
52,950
1,792 1 54,742 1 950-2
At Millbank, therefore, there occur annually among the convicts more than twice as many
cases of RLness, in proportion to the prison population, as at Pentonville; but only one-fourth
as many as at the Hxüks ; and one-third as many as at Brixton.
The proportion of removals and pardons on medical grounds, as well as death s, cases of
insanity, and suicides, to every 1000 of the daily average number of prisoners, exhibit similar
marked differences in the relative healthiness of the several convict prisons of London; thus :—
Name of Prison.
Average
daily
number of
prisoners.
Number to every 1000 of the daily average number
of prisoners.
Insanity.
Suicides.
Deaths
{exclusive
of
suicides).
Pardons on
medical
grounds.
Kemovals
on
medical
grounds.
Pentonville ....
519-16
3-8
1-9
11-5
9-6
1-9
Brixton .....
400-15
7-4
2-4
7-4
9-9
00
Hulks .
951-00
1-0
0-0
28-3
2-1
1 3-6
Millbank ....
752-30
19-5
13
67-7
00
2 0-8*
Accordingly, we perceive that at Millbank there are more than nine times as many deaths
in the year as at Brixton, six times as many as at Pentonville, and more than twice as many
as at the Hulks.
The greater portion of the convicts confined at Millbank are employed in making
soldiers' clothing, biscuit-bags, hammocks, and miscellaneous articles for the army and navy,
and other prisons, as weU as the shirts, handkerchiefs, and cloth coats and trousers worn by
the prisoners themselves.f Others are occupiedj" and receive instruction, in gardening.
* It is much to be regretted that there is no uniform statistical method of registering the medical returns
of the several prisons, both in London and the country. Some of the medical officers, as those of Millbank
and Pentonville, favour us with elaborate per centages of the cases of illness, deaths, &c., whereas, the
medical statistics of the Hulks and Brixton are given in the crudest possible manner, and are not only almost
useless to the inquirer as they stand, but signally defective in their arrangement in these scieptific days.
t OCCUPATIONS CARRlnn ON IN THE SEVERAL PENTAGONS AND WARDS OP MILLBANK PRISON.
Ward.
Pentagon 1.
Pentagon 2.
Pentagon 3.
Pentagon 4.
Pentagon 5.
Pentagon 6.
A
Pickers
Shoemakers
Women
Tailors
Weavers
B
Reception Ward
Shoemakers
W omen
Tailors
Weavers
Pickers
C
Tailors
Artificers
Women
Infirmary
Weavers
Tailors
H
Tailors
Tailors
Women
Tailors
Tailors
Tailors
Ë
Tailors
Tailors
Women
Infirmary
Tailors
T ailors
F
Tailors
Tailors
W omen
Tailors
Pickers
Tailors
17'
240
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
At the time of our visit there were altogether 828 prisoners {i.e., 472 less than the eom-
plement) confined within the walls ; of these 655 were males, and 173 females, and they
were distributed throughout the prison in the following manner :—
DISTRIBUTION AND NUMBER OP CONVICTS IN MILLBANK PRISON, MAT 24, 1856.
Pentagon 1.
Pentagon 2.
Pentagon 3.
Pentagon 4.
Pentagon 5.
Pentagon 6.
General Ward.
.9 «
'd
o *
g ¿
o <¿
-d
o <¿
d .
o oó
,9r,î
o ir-
.9 m
'S (L
■9 n
ä
d
«3
o"ï
d
(M
c3
d H
(3
ä
u
d
«s
.
O a
2;0
SüO
ao
a^-'
a^
a«-»
tí
a^
au
ÏÎ
au
au
n
a«
A
29
32
A
28
21
A
29
30
A
29
22
A
15
23
A
29
26
A
28
B
0
B
SO
29
B
29
81
B
28
22
B
15
30
B
28
24
B
32
C
80
C
30
18
C
31
32
D
30
14
C
30
21
C
30
21
C
32
D
80
D
30
28
D
16
15
F
60
55
D
30
25
D
30
20
D
28
E
30
E
29
21
Penal
G
60
50
Ë
30
17
E
29
22
F
30
F
29
25
D
15
14
H
60
47
F
29
25
F
30
21
Asso.
E
18
19
Asso.
F
19
32
Total.
U9
32
Total.
176
137
Total.
157
173
Total.
267
210
Total.
149
142
Totel.
176
134
Total.
120
TOTAL NUMBER OP PRISONERS :
32 In Pentagon 5 — H2
137 Pentagon 6 = 134
173 General Ward 0
210
In the whole prison . . . 828
If iv—/3.
27ie Present Use and Regulatims of the Prison.
The only entrance to the prison at Millbank is facing the Thames.
The door of the " outer gate," on the day of our first visit, was opened in answer to our
summons by the usual official, in the same half-police-half-coast-guard kind of uniform, and
we were ushered into a small triangular hall, with a staircase, leading to the gate-keeper's
rooms above, crammed into one comer, and facing it a table, on which were ranged a series
of portable letter-boxes not unlike the poor-boxes to he seen at hospitals and churches. On
one of these was written, "Male Officers' Letter-hox," md on another, "Female Oßcers' Letter¬
box;" a third was labelled, "Prisoners' Letter-box," and a fourth, " Clerk of the Works." A
few letters were on the table itself, and over its edge hung a long strip of paper inscribed with
a list of the officers on leave for the night This we learnt was for the guidance of the gate¬
keeper, so that he might know what officers went off duty that evening ; in which case—our
informant told us—they were allowed to leave the prison at a quarter-past six p.m., and
expected to return at a quarter to six the next morning to resume their duties—each warder
passing one night in, and one night out of, the prison.
Hence we were directed across the long wedge-shaped "outer yard" of the prison—a
mere triangular slip, or "tongue," as it is called, of hare, gravelled ground, between the
diverging sides of the first and last pentagons ; and so ^e reached the barred "inner gate,"
set, within a*narrow archway at the apex, as it were, of the yard. Here the duty of the
gate-keeper is to keep a list of all persons entering and quitting the prison, and to allow no
inferior officer to pass without an order from the governor.*
* RULES EXHIBITED AT THE INNER GATE.
" Every officer or servant of the establishment who shall bring or carry out, or endeavour to bring or
carry out, or knowingly allow to be brought or carried out, to or for any convict, any money, clothing, pro¬
visions, tobacco, letters, papers, or other articles whatsoever not allowed by the rules of the prison, shall be
In Pentagon 1 =
Pentagon 2 =
Pentagon 3 -
Pentagon 4 =
MILLBAIÍK PRISON.
241
We were then conducted through a succession of corridors to the governor's room, which
is situate in the range of buildings at the base of pentagon 1, forming one side of the hex¬
agonal court surrounding the chapel that constitutes the centre of the prison. This was an
ordinary, but neat, apartment, the furniture of which consisted principaRy of a large official
writing-table ; and the end window of which, facing the principal entrance, was strongly
barred, probably with no view to prevent either egress or ingress, but merely for the sake
of being in keeping with the other casements of the establishment. This window is
flanked by two doors, through which the prisoners are admitted on their receptioil into
the prison, or whenever, from misconduct or any other cause, they are summoned into the
governor's presence. On such occasions a rope is thrown across the room, and forms a
species of bar, at which the convicts take their positions.
The governor, on learning the object of our visit, directed one of the principal warders to
conduct us through the several wards, and explain to us the various details of the prison.
"Millbahk," he said, in answer to a question we put to him, "is the receptacle for aU
(he convicts of England, Wales, and Scotland—hat not for those of Ireland, which has a convict
establishment of its own."
Males and females of all ages are received here, the prison being the depot for "convicts"
of every description. " When a man is convicted, and sentenced either to transportation or
penal servitude," the governor proceeded to say, "he remains in the prison in which he was
confined previous to his trial, imtil such time as the order of the Secretary of State is
forwarded for his removal ; and he is then transferred to us, his ' caption papers ' (in which
are stated the nature of his oflence, the date of his conviction, and the length of his sentence)
being sent with him. From this prison he is, after a time, removed to some " 'probationary "
prison (to undergo a certain term of separate confinement) such as that at Pentonville, or
to some such establishment in the country ; and thence he goes to the public works either at
Portland, Portsmouth, or the Hulks, or else he is transported to Gibraltar, Bermuda, or
Western Australia, where he remains tUl the completion of his sentence."
On the arrival of the prisoners at Millbank, they are examined by the surgeon, we were
informed, when, if pronomiced free from contagious disease, they are placed in the reception
ward, where they are bathed and examined, naked, as at Pentonville, and afterwards dis¬
tributed throughout the prison according to circiunstances.
" If a prisoner be ordered to be placed in association on medical grounds," added the
governor, " the order is entered in the book in red ink, otherwise he is located in one of the
various pentagons for six months, to undergo confinement in separate cell."
On entering his cell, each prisoner's hair is cut, and the rules of the prison are read over
to him, the latter process being repeated every week, and the hair cut as often as required.
When the convict is young he is sent as soon as possible to'Parkhurst, provided he be a
fit subject, and not convicted of any heinous ofience. In the case of a very liaHened
oflfender, when there is a probabilily of his doing considerable mischief, it is for the
director of Parkhurst to decide whether or not he vrill accept bim.
When the young convict is of extremely tender years, application is immediately made,
by the MiUbank authorities, for his removal to the " Philanthropic Farm School," at Reigate,
her Majesty's pardon being granted conditionally on his being received there.
" One boy," said the governor, " went away on Tuesday ; he was not twelve, and had
been sentenced for stealing some lead, after a previous conviction. We have one here," he
forthwith suspended from his oflSee by the governor of the prison, who shall report the offence to a director,
who, upon proof of the offence, may cause the offender to be apprehended and carried before a justice of the
peace, who shall be empowered to hear and determine any such offence in a summary way ; and every such
officer or servant, upon conviction of such offence before a justice of the peace, shall be liable to pay a penalty
not exceeding fifty pounds, or, in the discretion of the justice, to he imprisoned in the common jail or house
of correction, there to be kept, with or without hard labour, for any term not exceeding six calendar months.."
242
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
continued, "at this moment, a child of between twelve and thirteen, who had been
employed as a clerk, and had robbed his employer of between ten and twelve thousand
pounds." The child, however, we afterwards learnt, had become frightened, and taken the
money back ; but one of his relations had proceeded against him for the theft, with the view
of getting him admitted into a reformatory institution.
"We consider prisoners of tender years," the governor went on, "up to about thirteen.
I remember a child," he added, " of not more than nine years of age, who had been twelve
times in prison—I do, indeed. That's some years ago now. There's the receipt for the
child who left us the other day," he added, as he handed us the following certificate :—
" Certificate of Disoharqe.
"A W .
" This is to certify, that I haw this day received, from the custody of the governor of Millhank
prison, A W , according to the terms of the conditional pardon granted to him.
Dated the \&th day of May, 1856.
"Philanthropic Farm School, Redhill, May 22, 1856.
" For the Rev. Sidney Turner, Secretary."
There have not been any young girls at MiUbank lately he told us ; some had been sent
to Manor HaU, but very few girls of tender years have been received at the Penitentiary.
" I cannot say what would be done with very young girls," said the governor; "I should
have to refer for orders. There were two of fifteen here, but they were the youngest."
" The females," he continued, " go to the convict prison at Brixton, after they have
been with me nine or twelve months, according to the vacancies there. The males go to
PentonviUe ; in fact, we keep PentonviUe up. Those that remain here go to the public
works, either to Portland, Portsmouth, or the Hulks, according to circumstances. Occa¬
sionally we send some to Gibraltar or Bermuda, and to Western Australia. Of course those
we send to Western Australia can only be transports; they can't be penal-service men.
This prison contains young prisoners, old prisoners, female prisoners, and invalids. Old
prisoners, who are able to perform only light labour, are sent to Dartmoor. Those incapable
of Hght labour, or of any labour at all, are sent to the ' Stirling Castle,' invalid hulk at
Portsmouth."
"If the prisoners are of very tender years," the governor went on, "I generally put
them in large rooms, which you wül see. We have six distinct prisons here—one in each
pentagon," he added, " and, with the general ward, I may say we have seven, for it is
quite distinct from the others. Pentagon 3, which contains the female convicts, is quite
shut off from the other part of the prison, and opened with a separate key."
" We have two distinct forms of discipline here," continued the governor. " We pursue
the separate system for the first six months, unless the medical officer certifies that the prisoner
cannot bear it, in which case we remove him immediately into association. When the men
are put together, the silent system is enforced—that is to say, we endeavour to enforce it ; for
I need not tell you, that when seventy or eighty men are in the same place they are sure to
talk, do what we may to prevent them.
The governor here drew up a curtain, and showed us a large ground-plan of the prison,
hanging on the wall. We expressed some surprise at its being covered, and inquired what
purpose the curtain served.
"The prisoners' eyes are so sharp," was the reply, "that they would understand the
entire arrangement of the prison at once. They would discover the weak points of the
building, and attempt to escape. We had one man here," he proceeded, " named Ralph
(a regular Jack Sheppard), who tried to get out. He made false keys in his cell. The
cocoa-mugs at that time used to be made of pewter—we have them of tin now—and
MILLBANK PEISON.
243
he actually melted the metal over his gas-light, and then moulded it into keys. I will show
you them and accordingly openiug his desk, he took from it several rudely-made keys.
" With these," said the governor, as he presented them to us in a bunch, " he could have
opened every door in the prison."
This man, we learnt, was a most daring and desperate character, and the terror of every
one he came near, when at liberty. We iaquired how he behaved in the prison.
" He was as quiet as could be," was the governor's answer ; " always well-behaved, and
never abused any one."
"You would have thought butter would not have melted in his mouth," said the
warder, when referred to for his corroborative testimony. " He was quite an uneducated
man," the officer went on to say ; " iudeed, he got what little education he had from haviug
been transported."
The prisoners are sometimes very violent, but not often. " Look at this hammock-ring,"
said the governor, as he produced a heavy iron ring, with a rope attached to it; " you've heard
of one of our men being nearly murdered ? "Well, this is what it was done with," he said,
giving it a gentle swing. " Luckily, our man was very near to him, so he was not so much
hurt as he might have been."
" Here's another iustniment for openiug a bolt," and he then called our attention to an
iron rod, formed out of two pieces, which were joined together with a hmge, hke the handle
of a lady's parasol, and could be doubled up together somewhat in the same manner.
" They push this through the keyhole," he said, as he extended it before us, " and let the
further end drop. Then they move it about until they feel the bolt, and push it hack."
" I have been a number of years connected with prisons," pursued our informant, " and
yet I find there's something fresh to be leamt every day. How they get the impressions of
the locks must appear to strangers not a little wonderful. They do that with a piece of soap."
The conversation then took another turn. "We don't profess to teach anything here
but tailoring," the governor went on; "but if they're shoemakers by trade they go to
shoemaking, or, if they don't know any trade, perhaps we put them to pick coir. "When a
man attempts to commit suicide I always put him to pick coir, so that he may have neither
tools, nor knives, nor needles to do any harm with."
" It's a great thing," added the governor, " to make a prisoner feel that he is employed
on some useful work. Hothing disgusts a man, and makes him feel so querulous, as to let
him know that he is labouring and yet doing nothing—^like when working at the tread-wheel.
I am of opinion that to employ prisoners on work which they know and see is useful has the
best possible effect upon their characters, and much increases their chances of reformation.
Every other kind of labour irritates and hardens them. After twenty thousand prisoners
have passed through one's hands, one must have had some little experience on such matters.
There was a tread-wheel on the premises here, for the use of penal or second-probation
men, and those only ; but its use has been discontinued for some months."
All men of long sentences, or who are known to be of desperate disposition, are put in the
middle floor of each pentagon, which is considered to be the strongest part of the prison, and
badges are given to prisoners who conduct themselves weU.
" On the first of every month," said the governor, " the conduct-hook is brought to
mo ; and in this is kept a list of all the men who have been six months in the prison. Here
it is, you see, and in the first column is the register-number of each prisoner, in the
second his name, in the third his location in the prison, in the fourth his number of reports,
and in the last coliunn the folio of the book which contains those reports. How, here's one
man, you see, who has been reported six times, so he wouldn't get a badge ; and here, at
the end of the book, is a list of those men who have been nine months in the prison, and
who are to get a second badge. It's a great thing to a man," he added, " to get his badge,
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
for if he goes from here without one, and in the third class, that entails six months'
additional time before his name can be submitted for a ticket-of-leave."
" Oh, yes, it's a great thing," chimed in the warder, " to have a badge. The men think
a gi'cat deal of it, and feel the loss of it greatly."
" We have first, second, and third class prisoners, according to their conduct," said the
governor, " and these classifications are made before the men go to the public worka. The fact
of a prisoner's being badged always shows him to be a well-behaved man ; but even when a
man has behaved very badly, if he reforms at last, I give him a first-class character, or else
he would become desperate on going down to the public works, and the governor would
have a very hard time of it. Every man is also classed according to education when he
goes away, but in that matter the first class represents the least educated."
We were anxious to ascertain which class of criminals gave most trouble to the prison
authorities. " Sometimes," said the governor, in answer to our inquiries, "the most despe¬
rate characters outside the prison are the best conducted inside the walls. It's the Rttle, petty
I. ondon pickpocket, who has been all his life at bad courses, that turns out the most difficult
fi llow of aU to deal with. These characters are most troublesome. They are up to all sorts
of roguery and mischief ; and we find the same thing when they come from the manufactur¬
ing districts. Tour men who have committed heavy offences, and who are sentenced to
some long punishment, are very amenable to discipline and most easy to deal with. Give me
long-sentence men—I say it as the governor of a prison—they won't try to escape. Most of
them have never committed another offence in the course of their Rves; but the London pick¬
pockets have been at it all their lives, from their earUest childhood."
" There are not many cases of escape from prison now," said the governor, " but I remem¬
ber two which occurred at Dartmoor, in which some men succeeded in getting off. One of
them got into a bog, and remained sunk in it up to his neck, while the officers were walking
about close by, on the look out for him."
H iv—7-
The Interior of the Prison.
The Reception Ward.—After unlocking a " double-shotted" door, the warder, under
whose charge we had been placed, conducted us into a long, lofty passage, like that of a
narrow cloister, or rude whitewashed box-lobby to a theatre. On the right, higher than we
could conveniently see, were the exterior windows of the pentagon ; on the left, the doors of
the apparently infinite series of cells.
These doors are double, the inner one being of wood and the outer one of iron lattice¬
work or " cross-bars."
»
Every ward consists of two " passages" or sides of the several pentagons, and ranged along
each passage are fifteen ceUs. The passages are fifty yards long, about ten feet high, and about
seven wide, and all of equal size. They are paved and coloured white. The admixture,
however, of a very slight bluish tint with the lime diminishes the glare of the whitewash.
Along the wall over the cells runs a long gas-pipe, with branches which carry the
gas into the cells themselves. Each cell is about twelve feet long by seven broad, and
slightly vaulted.
The inner door is left open in thé day time from nine tUl five, so that aU. semblance of
a communication with the world may not be taken away from those in separate confinement.
At night, however, or upon any misconduct of the prisoner, the inner door is " bolted up,"
as it is termed; nevertheless, he can be seen by the jailer through a smaU vertical slit
in the wall—like that of a perpendicular letter-box. Each ceU is provided with a signal-
THE CONVICT NURSERY AT BRIXTON.
MILLBANK PllISON.
245
stick, in shape like a harlequin's wand, painted black at one end and red at the other, and
the prisoner pushes one end of this through the slit, in order to communicate his wants to
the warder—the black having a special, and the red a general, signiñcation.
At the top of each cell is a ventilating aperture for the exit of the foul am, and in the
centre of the passage a ventilating fire, with an apparatus for introducing hot air. Half-way
down the passage, fixed to the wall, is a species of open rack, somewhat like a press
without a door. We questioned the warder as to the use of this.
" Oh, that's one of the arms' racks," he replied. " You remember the 10th of April, '48,
and the Chartist riots. Well, we had to
give up the whole of pentagon 1 to the
soldiers ; we had the Guards here then,
and that rack is where their arms stood.
We had some of them here, too, for the
Duke of Wellington's funeral ; but
those racks were put up during the
Chartist riots, and have never been
taken down since."
At the end of the reception ward is
the surgeon's room. This is merely a
double cell, paved with flag-stones, and
with a small door in the middle of the
partition. After bathing, the new-
coming prisoners are brought in here,
naked, and examined. They are then
asked if they, or any of their family,
have been insane.
If the examination be satisfactory,
a description of the prisoner, with a
specification of any private marks which
may be found on his body, is entered in
a book.
" Most persons of bad repute," said
the warder, " have private marks
stamped on them—^mermaids, naked
men and women, and the most extraor¬
dinary things you ever saw; they are
marked like savages, whilst many of
the regular thieves have five dots be¬
tween their thumb and forefinger, as
a sign that they belong to 'the forty
thieves,' as they call it."
The general description entered in the surgeon's book states the height, the kind of hair,
the character of the complexion, and colour of the eyes, in the style of a foreign passport—
the mwrqyssparticulières ' being, for the most part, rather more numerous than is the case
with ordinary travellers.
At the end of the passage we come to the bath-room, which is situate in the middle of the
reception wards, and at the hase of the central tower attached to the pentagon. The bath¬
room is circular, and contains four baths. To each pentagon there are three such towers (one
at each of the front angles), the foremost, or that in the middle, being called the " general
centre tower of the ward. There is also another tower, in the eentre of the exercising
yards enclosed by the walls of each pentagon, and this is styled " the warder's tower."
PRISONER AT WORK MAKING SHOES
IN SEPARATE CELL.
246
THE GllEAT WOHLD GE LONDON.
PciitagoiiB 1 and 2 arc tilike, and throughout of the strongest construction.
Pentagons 3 and 4, however, were originally built for women, and are of slighter
construction ; though this is a compliment to the sex which unfortunately they have failed
to justify, as the female convicts throughout the prison are pronounced- " fifty times more
troublesome than the men." The cells here, too, are not vaulted like those of pentagons 1
and 2, and the grated iron gates are less massive.*
*#* The Chain-room.—" Here," said the warder, as he opened the grating of one of
the cells, in the lower ward of pentagon 1, and threw back the wooden door with a hang,
"here is our chain-room, or armoury, as we call it."
It was one of the ordinary ceUs, but literally hung in chains, which were arranged
against the walls in festoons and other linear devices. In front of the window there was set
out a fancy pattern of leg-irons, apparently in imitation of the ornamental fetter-work over
the door of Newgate. The walls glittered with their bright swivel hand-cuffs, like stout
horses'-bits, and the closely-linked chains like curbs, reminding one somewhat of the interior
of a saddler's shop. But the brilliancy and lightness of some of the articles were in places
contrast with a far more massive style of ironmongery, which appeared to have been
originally invented for the Cornwall giants. A few of the manacles of the latter class
were literally as large as the handle of a navigator's spade ; and there were two massive
ankle-cuffs, with chains, such as highwaymen are supposed, by Victoria dramatists, to have
danced in, but which would have effectually prevented all attempts at hornpipes on the part
of any light-footed as weU as light-fingered gentlemen—weighing, as they did, something
more than twenty-eight pounds. There were neck-pieces, too, heavy enough to break an
ordinary coUar-bone ; whilst everything was on so gigantic a scale, that we were struck by
the absurdity even more than by the cruelty of such monstrous contrivances—even as
the horrors of an utterly extravagant melo-drama inspire us with mirth rather than
fear. Still, there was something too real about the scene before us to induce any but
the grimmest smiles, for by the side of the colossal swivel-cuffs, figure-of-eight-cuffs,
and iron waistbands which would have formed appropriate girths for the bronze horse,
there were little baby handcuffs, as small in compass as a girl's bracelet, and about twenty
times as heavy—objects which impressed the beholder with a notion, that in the days of
torture either the juvenile offenders must have been very strong or the jailers very weak ;
otherwise, where the necessity for manacling infants ?
" They did not show much mercy to prisoners then" said the warder, to whom we com¬
municated our reflections ; " and I can remember in my time, too, when the prison
authorities wer'n't much better. I've seen a little boy six years and a half old sentenced
to transportation ; and the sentence carried into effect, too, though the poor child couldn't
speak plain."
The handcuffs with bars attached, and ingeniously fashioned to represent the letter P—the
chains as heavy as iron cables, and which were used for fastening together entire gangs—the
ankle-cuffs, which seemed adapted only for the ankles of elephants, were all shown to us,
and wo reflected with a sigh that this museum of fetters—^this d^6t of criminal harness—
this immense collection of stupidities and atrocities in short—was not only a vestige of the
sanguinary criminal legislation of the last century, but also a reminder of the discipline of
our lunatic asylums as they existed at no very distant period. If it showed us what New¬
gate was until long after the days of Howard, it also suggested what Bedlam must have been
previous to the accomplishment of Pinel's beneficent mission.
"We never use anything hero," said the warder, "but a single cuff and chain. With
one cuff," he continued, " I'd take the niost desperate criminal all over England."
We could not help expressing our satisfaction at the abandonment of so inhuman and
* Pentagon 3 is at present alone set apart for female prisoners.
MILLBANK BEISON.
247
THE FETTER-EOOM AT MILLBANK.
ay Handcuifs ; hy Shackles for the lege, fastened round the ankle, and secured to c, an Iron Ring for the waist.
useless a practice as that of loading prisoners with fetters which, independently of the mere
weight, inflicted severe torture on them whenever they moved.
"Yes, it's given up everywhere now," was the reply, " except Scotland ; hut there they
do it still. The prisoners who come up to us from Scotland have leg-irons and ankle-cuffs;
and the cuffs are fastened on to them so tightly, that the people here have to knock away at
them for some time with a heavy hammer before they can drive the rivets out. Occasionally
the hammer misses the rivet which fastens the cuff, and hits the man's ankle. Any how,
he must suffer severe pain, as the cuffs are very tight and the rivets are always hammered
in pretty hard."
The most desperate and intractable prisoners, the warder informed us in the course of
this conversation, used formerly to he sent to Norfolk Island; but none had been transported
there now for some years. The last who was consigned to that settlement was Mark
Jeffrey, the most daring ruffian they had ever had in Millbank prison, and who ultimately
attempted to murder the chief-mate of the hulk at "Woolwich, whereupon he was shipped
off to Norfolk Island.
"One man made an attempt to break prison here," continued the warder, "some years
248
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
sinco, and with great success. It was not the man spoken of with the false keys, hut a fellow
luimed William Howard, who was known to all his companions as ' Punch ' Howard. He
was in the infirmary for venereal at the time, and got through a window about ninety feet
Irom the ground. With a knife he cut through the pivot which held the window, and
fastened it up so as to remain there until night. He then forced back the iron fi'ame, which
was not more than six and a half inches sqtiare, and made it serve as a sort of rest, like the
things used by painters for window-cleaning. This done, he got upon it, tied his bed¬
clothes to it, and let himself down by them ; after which he scaled the outer walls
and went straight off to his mother's, at TJxhridge. I took him there in a brick-field.
Of eourse, I didn't go into the brick-field where he had all his friends, hut I got his
employer to call him out on some pretext, and then slipped a handcuff on him and brought
him back."
*#* Cells at MiUbank.—Passing through a grated gate we came to the corridor
next to the general centre, and styled passage No. 1, that which we had just quitted being
passage No. 2. The two passages are similar; at the end of passage No. 1, a brass beU is
seen close to a door whieh leads to the warder's tower, and which is rung by the ofiSicers
when the principal is wanted. In the next passage that we entered were located the
prisoners who were waiting for their tiekets-of-leave, having just returned from Gibraltar—
the " Gib" prisoners as they are called.
On the grated gates of the ceRs here were the register-tickets of the men, with the name
of each written on the back.
Two of the men in the first cell rose and saluted us as we passed. Like the rest of the
prisoners, they were dressed in gray jackets, brown trousers with a thin red stripe—the
same as is introduced into most of the convict fabrics—blue cravats (also crossed with narrow
brick-coloured threads), and gray Scotch-like caps.
These prisoners were aRowed to converse during the day, and to sit, two or three together,
in each ceR ; ' but they were separated at night.
"You can take them away now," said the principal warder. " Stand to your gates !"
the deputy exclaimed ; upon which the oflcer in the centre of the ward gave two knocks,
when aR the men turned out at the same time, closed their gates, and, in obedience to the
warder's commands to "face about," and " quick march," went out into the yard to exer¬
cise, an oficer being there ready to receive them.
When the prisoners had left, we entered one of the ceRs. The colour of the walls we
found of a Rght neutral tint. Beneath the soRtary window, which, like aR the cell win¬
dows, looked towards the " warder's tower," in the centre of the pentagon, was a little square
table of plain wood, on which stood a smaR pyramid of books, consisting of a Bible, a
Prayer-book, a hymn-book, an arithmetic-book, a work entitled " Home and Common
Things," and other simRar publications of the Society for the Promotion of Christian Know¬
ledge, together with a slate and pencR, a wooden platter, two tin pints for cocoa and gruel,
a salt-ceRar, a wooden spoon, and the signal-stick before alluded to. Underneath the table
was a broom for sweeping out the cell, resembling a sweep's brush, two combs, a hair-brush,
a piece of soap, and a utensR like a pudding-basin.
Affixed to the waR was a card with texts, known in the prison as the " Scripture Card,"
and a "Notice to Convicts" also; whRst on one side of the table stood a washmg-tub and
wooden stool, and on the other the hammock and bedding, neatly folded up. The mat¬
tress, blankets, and sheets, we were told, have to be arranged in five folds, the coloured
night-cap being placed on the centre of the middle fold; and considerable attention is
required to he paid to the precise folding of the bed-clothes, so as to form five layere of equal
dimensions. The day-cap is placed on the top. of the neat square parcel of bedding, which
looks scarcely larger than a soldier's knapsack.
MILLBANK PRISON.
249
" Up above, we have a penal-class prisoner in one of the refractory cells," said our
attendant warder ; "the cell is not exactly what we call a dark one, but an ordinary cell, with
the windows nearly closed up. The penal class prisoners are those who have been sent back
from public works for committing some violent assault, or for mutinous or insubordinate
conduct. They are returned to us, by order of the directors, to undergo what is called a
' second probation.' "When they belong to the penal class, they are bolted up in their cells
all day, and treated with greater rigour than men under the ordinary prison discipline."
On reaching one of these ceUs, we found the hammocks were replaced by iron bedsteads, or
rather by iron gratings resting on stone supports at either end. '
These refractory cells ' resembled the ordinary ones, except in two particulars ; the
wooden door was outside, and was kept
firmly closed over the iron door or grating,
while the windows were blocked up so
as to admit only the smallest possible
number of rays. The warder threw open
the door of one of the refractory cells, and
asked the prisoner within how he was
getting on. The man was under confine¬
ment for making use of abusive language
to his ofiicer.
"He knew it was his temper," he
said, as he spoke behind the grating, "but
they took him up so short ; he meant,
however, to become better if he could."
This prisoner was allowed half a
pound of bread in the morning, and half
a pound at night; he had nothing to
drink but cold water.
*j^ The School-room.—"This ward,"
continued our guide, as we passed
through another grated door, "leads to
the governor's room, where you sat this
morning, and here prisoners are placed
who are brought up for report and have
to be taken before him. The penal class
are searched here before they are taken
in to the governor, in order to prevent
their having anything secreted about
them intended to injure him. The
governor adjudicates upon reports every
morning,"'
During the old penitentiary system, wc may add, the prisoners used to remain at Mülbank
for three and four years—they were never sent away ; and when they had done the whole of
their probationary time, they used to get their freedom as being thoroughly reformed characters,
though many of them have since returned and been transported. The officers in those days
used to designate the extraordinary religious convicts as " pantilers." The prisoners used to
labour as now, and, from being a long time in the one prison, became expert, and used to turn
out a great deal of work. The officers in those days used to have to stand and read the Bible
in the passages of the wards, while the prisoners were blackguarding them in their cells.
The men turned out hypocrites. The reverend governor had the management of the place up
2ñ0
THE GREAT WORLD GE LONDON.
to August 1, 1843, when it became a convict prison. When it was a penitentiary, or the
"tench," as the thieves called it, if convicts behaved with deception and pretended to be
sorry for their offences, they got their discharge after a few years. HaiTy King, at Penton-
ville, was one of this kind ; he actually had a pair of green spectacles purchased for him,
because he read his Bible so hard that his sight became injured by it. He pretended to
be thoroughly reformed, but directly he got doAvn to Portland he showed himself in his true
character ; for he, with others, assaulted the officers and endangered their lives.
Attached to every two pentagons there is a school-room. The schools are divided into
four classes, the fourth class being the highest. At one end of the school-room there are
maps of the four quarters of the globe against the wall, and a table of Bible chronology;
at the other is a tableau, representing the principal animals of creation, in which a
very large whale (contrasted with a very small man) occupies a prominent position.
The prisoners, at the time of our visit, were seated in rows on either side of the middle
passage, arranged on forms with one long continuous desk or sloping shelf before them.
On a huge black board the following arithmetical proposition was chalked :—
"What is the interest of £2726 Is. Ad. at 4j per cent, per annum, for 3 years 154
days?"
Here, too, a man of thirty was staring idiotically at the schoolmaster, as he endeavoured
to teach him the painful truth, " that nine from nought you can't."
Working in Sepa/rate Cells.—We now passed to the top floor of pentagon 2, where the
prisoners were employed in tailoring. In the flrst cell, a boy was seated on his board making
a soldier's coat. The gratings were closed, but the wooden doors were open.
" In the cells that you saw in pentagon 1," observed the warder, "the prisoners had
hammocks. In some of the wards, instead of hammocks they have an iron framework,
resting at the head and foot on two large stone supports. Here, you see, we give them
one of those boards, instead of the ironwork, so that they have a bedstead and a shopboard
at the same time."
The cells here had aU the appearance of small tailors' workshops, and at the end of tl'o
passage there was a furnace for heating the irons which are used for going over the scam-
of the garments made by the prisoners.
In one of the cells here a convict was receiving religious instruction. The revcreno
instructor was reading to the prisoner, whom we heard, as we passed the cell, uttciing, from
time to time, hie responses, in a solemn manner.
In this part of the prison we noted an old man, who appeared to have lost all capacit y
for taking an interest in work, or anything else, and who had, therefore, been put to piclc
coir. He was sitting down with his jacket off, and a heap of the brown flbre lying loose
before him, and reaching nearly up to his knees.
" This old man," said the warder " can't work much. 'iVhen prisoners have no capacity
for tailoring, have bad sight, or such like, we give them coir to pick."
In a cell, where the instructing officer was presiding, several prisoners were engaged
cutting out coats, stitching, and fitting in linings.
" That boy, you see there, handles his needle well. How long have you been here, my
man ?" inquired the warder.
" Four months, sir !"
" Ah, and you can make a coat now, eh ?"
" I fbink I can, sir," replied the boy.
In another of the tailoring wards we noticed a cell with the wooden door closed.
"There, you see, that man's been 'bolted up.' He's been talking with the other pri¬
soners, most likely, and so he has been deprived of the privilege of having his door open."
At the top of the martello-like tower, where the pails and tubs of each pentagon are kept.
MILLBANK PRISON".
251
is an immense circular tank. " That's filled with water from Trafalgar Square, said the
warder. "We used formerly to pump it up from a large reservoir, which was supplied from
the Thames. Now it comes rushing in without any pumping a) aU."
On the middle floor of pentagon 2 are the mechanics' wards. The prisoners were all at
work, either in the work-room, or in other parts of the prison, where repairs had to be
effected. In this ward were paintèrs, glaziers, coopers, blacksmiths, carpenters, masons,
bricklayers.
The pavement along the passages here was striped with the light which came streaming
through the grated doors of the cells ; but the windows in the passages were aU darkened,
to prevmit the men seeing into pentagon 3, which contains the female convicts.
" All the prisoners out of ^his ward," said our guide, as we entered another passage,
" are at school now ; you saw them up stairs. This ward is for tailors."
" Here, now, are more good coats," he continued. " These are for the ofdcers of Dartmoor
prison, and those for the navy."
" How long has this man been at his work?" we inquired, in reference to one who
appeared to be finishing off his button-holes in a sufficiently artistic manner.
" About ten months," was the reply; "but we can soon see by looking at his register
munber."
The warder, at the same time, tmmed' up the smaU slip of card which was tied outside
the grating of the cell, and read, " J , penal class," the inscription on the
back.
" Ah, you see he is one of the penal class, who has reformed. He is not treated like
the others, because, when one of our officers was attacked, he went to the warder's assist¬
ance, and helped to save his life." The warder informed us, " the officer was attacked by
four convict men as they came off the tread-wheel, and this prisoner stepped in and rescued
him from their hands. That's why he's taken out of the penal class."
" "We've got C here, he who murdered his wife in the Minories, while he was
drunk, on Christmas day last," the warder went on to say ; " he's a fine scholar—^knowa
several languages—French, German, and Latin—and is a most quiet and respectable man.
He had a capital situation in the India House, and was in the receipt of £150 a year. His
father was Irish. He tells me he remembers nothing about the murder; he was dead
drunk at the time. ' I know I must have done it, because everybody says so,' are the
words he uses when he speaks of the affair ; ' but it's all like a dream to me ! ' He was cast
for death, and says he thanks the Sheriffs, and Ordinary, and East India Company greatly,
for it was through their intercession that he got off. I think he's sincerely repentant." (At a
later part of the day we saw this man in his cell ; he was a dull, dark, bilious-looking fellow,
and had anything but an intelligent cast of head). " I tell you, as the governor told you," went
on the warder, " that the men who have the longest sentences are always the best behaved.
We have several men who have never been in prison before, and who, if liberated, would
behave very well. It's your regular "Whitechapel thief—your professional pickpocket—^who
is aU the trouble to us. Those old offenders are only in perhaps for a short time, but
they ought never to be let go at aU. Directly one of them gets out he meets some of his
' pals,' and the first thing he hears is, ' I say, I'm going to have a crack to-night ; there'U
be five or ten pounds for you out of it, if you like to come ;' and of course he goes. No !
those habitual professional thieves are no good either in or out of prison; but they're
safest in."
" The first-offence men are sometimes very much to be pitied," continued the warder
"and I feel for some of the soldiers we have here about as much as any of them. May-be
a soldier has got drunlt and struck his sergeant, and then he gets sentenced to fourteen
years for it ; when very likely the morning after he'd done it, he knew nothing at all about
the matter."
252
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
" Tliis," said the officer, coining to a halt, as we reached the centre of the ward, at the
angle formed by the two passages, " is the spot where poor Hall, one of the officers of the
prison, had his brains knocked out. The man who did it is in Bedlam now. He was a
Jew named Francis, a regular Whitechapel thief, and no more mad than you or me—at least
he didn't seem to be when I saw him. He told me he meant to murder some one. Well,
one day he put the black end of his signal-stick out of the cell, to tell the officer that he
wanted to go to the closet. The officer let him out, and he came along here with his
utensil in his hand. The officer was leaning over the trough ; the man came behind
and knocked him over the head with it, and, when he was on the ground, regularly
beat his brains out—there, just where we're standing. Those utensils are very dangerous
things ; some of them weigh nearly ten pounds. I've weighed them myself, so I'm certain
of it."
The smeU of leather and the sound of tapping informed us that we were entering the
shoemakers' ward.
" How long have you been at shoemaking, my boy ? " inquired the warder of a lad who
appeared to be hard at work in one of the cells we were then passing.
" Four years," replied the lad, speaking through the iron grating.
" How old are you ? "
" Sixteen."
" And how long have you been here, my man ? "
" Only came in yesterday," replied the prisoner, starting and touching his cap.
"This ward," we were told, "earned more than £4 during the previous week." The
instructing warder was present, with a long black apron over his uniform. In one of
the cells, where the tapping was most vigorous, there were rows of new shoes on the floor ;
a shoe-closer was in the comer, with bundles of black leather lying on the stones at his feet,
and a smaU shoemaker's tray by his side. Another prisoner was twisting twine over the
gas-pipe. Several of the men had all the appearance of regular shoemakers, and many wore
leathern aprons, like blacksmiths.
This ward and the next, that is to say, wards A and B of pentagon 2, are the only two
wards where shoemaking is carried on in separation.
" How do you do, Mr. TickeU?" said our attendant warder, as he passed, the instmctiag
officer.
In the clickers' department we found a collection of boot-fronts, roUs of upper-leather
soles, and heaps of shoes, and in the cell next to it a man was rubbing away at a "Wellington
boot on a last.
" You've got some good Wellington boots here, Mr. TickeU, haven't you ?" said the
warder.
"Yes," said Mr. TickeU, and leaving the grated gate he went into the ceU, and came out
with his hand thrust into a boot, which he offered to our inspection.
"That's as good a boot," said he, with no Uttle pride in the work, "as could be found
in London. The leather looks a Uttle rough now, but when it's been mbbed up it wUl be a
first-rate article. The man who made it used to work at one of the West-end houses."
"Now, here's a ceU," remarked our guide, as he jingled his keys, "in which four or
five of the men are at work together."
He opened the door, and we found five prisoners inside.
"They are aU good men," observed the officer, "and weU-conducted, so we let them
talk a Uttle so long as they are together."
" But we have to work very hard," rejoined one of the prisoners as we left the ceU.
Having visited aU the cells in pentagons 1 and 2, we were conducted into the artisans'
shop, where coopering, poUshing, &c., are carried on. The woAshop is spacious airy, and
Ught, with a roof supported by iron rods, like that of a railway terminus.
MILLBANK PRISON.
253
, Many of the artisans were away, in diiferent parts of the prison, working in parties under
the superintendence of officers. Some dozen men, however, were filling the place with the
sound of their hammers, and evidences of their labours were to be seen in all directions.
" These buckets," said the officer, " are for Chatham. Those are for shipboard."
Ascending a flight of wooden steps we reached the carpenters' shop over-head, and this as
usual, was pervaded by a strong turpentiney smell of deal. On the walls were hanging
tools, planes, &c. In the centre of the room were some half-dozen benches ; and at the
end was the wooden skeleton of a sofa. A few prison tables were lying about, and one of
the prisoners was employed in polishing a table of mahogany, which was intended for the
residence of one of the superior officers. There were also several cart-wheels against the
wall.
At a later part of the day we passed over pentagons 5 and 6, in many wards of which
we found the men busy tailoring in single cells. In some of these (as pentagon 5, E 2) were
" light-offence men," we were told—" all under ten years' transportation," said our informant.
In other parts (as in pentagon 6, A 1) the men were hammock-making, and bag-making as
well ; whilst in others, again, there are a few older men coir-picking; " those that have no
capacity for tailoring, and are dull men, we set to picking coir, for they're not capable of
doing anything else." Again, in pentagon 5, A ward, we found two men in the larger cells
busy weaving biscuit-bagging ; whilst another was seated on a board on the ground making
a pilot-coat ; and a fourth prisoner winding bobbins for the two who were weaving.
The ceUs in this ward were aU devoted to " bagging," and there were generally three
prisoners in each cell. Here the passage rattled again with the noise of the loom, like the
pulsation of paddle-wheels. And so again in B ward of the same pentagon, a similar clatter
of the looms prevailed, with the whirr of wheels winding bobbins and ringing through the
passages, till the din reminded one faintly of Manchester. Here, too, in one large cell,
was a calendar machine, where all the sacking was smoothed after being made, and we
found three prisoners busy passing a newly-woven piece through the polished metal rollers.
The quantity of work done at this prison far exceeds that at PentonviUe, as may be seen
by the subjoined returns.*
On another occasion we were shown over the " manufacturing department," and found
the spacious warerooms there littered with bales of blue cloth for the officers' clothing.
(" "We're going to make aU the prison officers' uniforms for the first time," said the warder in
attendance.) There were also rolls of shirting, sheeting, and hammock-stuff and straps, stowed
away in square compartments round the room, and shoemakers' lasts hanging from the
ceiling over-head. Up stairs here was the cutting-room, with small stacks of the brown
convict cloth, at the ends of the room ; and beside the door, were square piles of fustian,
ready cut up for " liberty clothing," for the prisoners.
" What coats are you cutting now, Mr. Armstrong ?" asked Warder Power of the manu¬
facturer. "Greatcoats for the 'Warrior Hulk,' and Chatham and Dartmoor prisons;
they're for the officers of those establishments."
The clothing for almost all the public works—Dartmoor, PentonviUe, Chatham, Port¬
land, Portsmouth, and the Hulks—is cut and made, we were told, at Mülbank.
STATEMENT OP SUNDRY GARMENTS, STORES, &C., MADE IN THE MANUFACTORY OP MILLBANK PRISON
POR NINE MONTHS, PROM IST APRIL, 1854, TO SlST DECEMBER, 1864.
Military greatcoats
Jackets
Waistcoats
Trousers
Flannel garments
Jackets (Militia)
Trousers (ditto)
18'
Nos. 24,145
„ 3,275
„ 1,378
„ 3,442
„ 2,894
„ 816
„ 1,642
Belts
Pouches
Shirts
Navy flushiiig jackets
No.
254
511
186
3,245
Shoes . , Pairs 1,920
Shoes repaired. . „ 4,047
BiscuitbagsforNavy,No. 414,206
Beds . . .No. 33
Pillows . . . „ 33
Hammocks . . „ 80
Miscellaneous articles „ 10,19
Cloth woven . . Yards 2,71
Handkerchiefs woven ,, 96
Bagging woven . „ 103,72
254
THE GKEAT WOELD OF LOKDOH.
"These are flannels, to be cut and made up for public works, too. Some hundreds of
thousands of yards of flannel are cut up here annually. Every convict has two sets of flan¬
nels given to him directly he comes in. The female prisoners work for the large slop-shops
in the city."
In the centre of the warehouse below stood square bales of fuzzy coir, for making beds,
and bright tins hanging against the wall.
" What orders have you got in now, Mr. Armstrong?" our attendant asked, anxious to
glean all the information he could for us.
" Five hundred pairs of shoes for Chatham," was the reply.
"What have you here?" inquired the other, as he placed his hand on several bales of
goods.
" They're five hundred suits of clothing, packed up ready, to go down to the new prison
at Chatham the moment they're wanted. Everything connected vrith Chatham—clothing
and bedding—is supplied here."
"How many biscuit-bags are you making now weekly for Deptford?" was the next
question.
" Only 3,000 now ; but in the time of the war we made 20,000 a week, and wove the
stuff too. Those are the hammocks for Chatham, ready to be sent down as well."
Here the manufacturer led us to a large stock of shoes, stored in bins, as it were, in one
comer of the room.
" These with the hobnails are for Chatham,, and these for ' Establishment '—that's our
term for Millbank. Yonder's a roll of blue and white yam, you see, ready for shirting and
handkerchiefs. Yes, sir, our female prisoners do a great deal of work for slop-shops. We
work for Jackson in Leadenhall Street ; Early and Smith, Houndsditch ; Stephens and Clark,
Paul's WTiarf, Thames Street ; Favell and Bousfield, St. Mary Axe—both shirts and coats we
do for the last. We do a great deal of Moses' soldiers' coats, and Dolan's marine coats, too.
We take about £3,000 a year altogether from the slop-shops. We have had as many as
1,000 soldiers' coats in a week to do for Stephens. Those, sir, are some of Favell's shirts,"
he added, pointing to a bundle near the door. "They're what are called rowing-shirts.
It's only a mero trifle they give for making them—fourpence a-piece—and just see what
work's in them. We made soldiers' trousers for Moses at twopence-halfpenny a-piece ; but
that didn't pay."
From the manufacturers' department we passed to the steward's department next door.
" This is the steward, sir," Warder Power said, as he introduced us to that of&cer.
" I pay an moneys for the prison," the steward replied, in answer to our question, as
soon as we entered the office, "and take account of clothing, provisions, necessaries of
every sort, and pay aU the warders, too, every week. Everything the warders require
they must come to me for. They get an order signed by the govemor, and I execute it.
If the manufacturer wants any materials I issue them ; and when he has made anything he
sends it in to me, and I issue it to the officers according as it is required. This I do only
upon authorized demands, of course, signed hy the govemor. Here is an example, you see,
sir :—
"Pentagon 2. " Millbank Prison, 2Ath June, 1856.
" Demand. Ño.
" Mr. Oeddes,
" Supply the undermentioned articles ;—
" 2794, E A , to hare spectacles, hy order of the surgeon.
"A. W. 8utherhnd, Principal Warder.
(Signed) " John Gambier" {Chv )
MILLBANK PRISON.
255
" I pay about £1,200 a month on account of the prison," the steward went on, "more or
loss. Sometimes I have known it to he £1,600 and £1,800, hut it's generally ahout £1,200.
A great part of the tradesmen's bills is paid direct hy the paymaster-general. The author¬
ities in Parliament Street make demands on that office for such amounts. It's likewise part
of mj department to take charge of any money or property the prisoners may have on coming
in, and also, in case of their going away, to make up accounts of the money that they have
earned while in prison ; not that any money passes here, for it's merely a nominal trans¬
action, and placed to their credit against their time being up, when the sum is paid to them.
Each prisoner before leaving here signs his account \^ith me in acknowledgment of its being
correct ; and then that accoimt passes on to the place where he goes. Here, you see, is such
an account :—
" 2670, J H Amount of private cash—&d. Gratuity—none. Property
belonging to the prisoner—1 hair-lrush, 1 tooth-lrush, 2 combs."
" This man is leaving for Pentonville to-morrow. Some men come and claim their
property years afterwards," said our attendant.
We glanced over the account. One man in the list of the convicts going to Pentonville on
the morrow was down, under the head of " property belonging to him," as the proprietor of
a watch and chain, and while many had a comb and brush, few possessed any money.
Among the whole fifty there was only 4s. lOd. appertaining to them, and nearly the half of
that was the property of one man. Against the name of the man who had recently been
condemned to death for ffie murder of his wife, while in a fit of intoxication, on Christmas
day (and who had been respited only the day before that appointed for his execution), there
were seven books down as his property.
The steward then showed us round the stores. " These drawers," said he, approaching
a l.'trge square chest in the centre of the room adjoining the office, " are full of a little of
everything. These are our knives, you see," he said, pulling out a drawer, full of tin
handloless blades.
" Those are the best things ever introduced here," the warder at our side exclaimed
with no little enthusiasm. "It's impossible to stab a man with those, for they bend back
directly they're thrust at anything, and yet thcy'U cut up a piece of meat well enough."
"Here's the wine for the sick," the steward continued, as he drew out another drawer
that was fiUed with a dozen or so of black bottles, with dabs of white on the upper side.
" These gutta-percha mugs are for the penal-class men ; but they're no good for cocoa, for they
double up with anything hot, so the breakfast is served in tins to the penal men and they
are collected immediately afterwards."
"Here, you see, are the prison groceries," said the steward's assistant, opening a cup¬
board, and showing a row of green tea-canisters. " Here, too, in the outer office, the meat
is inspected by the steward, and weighed in his presence every morning."
" These haricot beans," added the man, taking up a handful out of a neighbouring sack,
" are what we serve out to the men now instead of potatoes ; they have them eveiy other day."
" Here are bins of cocoa, flour, oatmeal, rice ; and above, on the shelves, there are
new cocoa cans.* In that cask we keep molasses to sweeten the cocoa and, as the man
removed the deep-rimmed wooden lid from the barrel, the place was immediately filled with
* The following is the authorized dietary for this prison ;—
Diet Table fok Male Prisoners.
Breakfast. Dinner. Supper
Monday
Tuesday
"Wednesday
Thursday .
Friday
Saturday
Sunday J Punishment Diet:—1 lb. of bread per day.
J pint of cocoa, made with 5 oz. meat (without bone, g™ch made with 2
J oz. of cocoa nibs, \ oz. and after boiling), 1 lb. "f oatmeal or wheaten
molasses, 2 oz. milk, and potatoes, and 6 oz. "Our, sweetened with J
8 oz. bread. bread. molasses, and 8 oz.
bread.
256
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
the peculiar smell of treacle. "This store, sir, is devoted to the general line," the assistant
went on, as we passed into another room. " Here are hearthstones and candles, Bath-bricks,
and brushes, and starch, and blacklead," he added, opening the drawers, one after another,
and pointing to the racks at the side of the store-room. " There, you see, are our wooden
salt-cellars, and those are black coal-scuttles, hanging over-head ; indeed, we keep every¬
thing, I may say."
" But cradles !" added our guide, with a smile—"though some years ago we ddd have a
nui'sery attached to the female ward, and wanted a few of them."
*#* Peculiar Wards.—In Mülbank there are a number of peculiar wards, such, for instance,
as " the penal-class ward" {i.e., for the men imder punishment), which is situate in D ward
of pentagon 4, and where there are always two officers on duty, and the cells are continuaRy
bolted up.
"There are very few of the penal-class men here now," said the warder, as we passed
along the passage, and found the greater part of the doors unclosed. " The prisoners in this
ward are supplied with gutta-percha utensils (for the others are too dangerous for such men
as we put here) ; but, with that exception, the cells and furniture are the same."
At one door that we came to, there was the register number attached, whilst on the back
of the card was written the name, " J- L , Penal Class." We peeped through
the inspection slit, and saw a young man, with his coat off, pacing the cell, and reminding
one of the restlessness of the polar bear at the Zoological Gardens. Then we came to another
cell, which was occupied. Here the officer looked through the sHt, and said to the inmate,
" What ! are you here ? Why, you were one of the best-conducted lads I had in the prison.
What did you do ?"
" It was my own temper," was the reply.
" What was it for, then ?"
" Oh, I was mutinous, and insulted an officer."
"Did you strike him ?" asked the warder.
" Why, yes, sir; I'U tell you the truth—I kicked him."
" Ah ! I thought so, or you woidd not have come here."
" Well, I don't want to come here any more, that's all."
" AH the penal class," said our guide, " are between twenty and thirty. It's seldom or
never that old men get among them. They're aU able-bodied feUows."
"Did you get your rations to-day, my man?" inquired our warder of another under
punishment.
" Yes, sir; and on Tuesday I come out, don't I?"
"Ay," answers the officer, and closes the door. " Sd s one of the penal class," he adds
to us.
" But he seems civil enough," said we.
" Yes," was the reply, " so he is to me ; but to others he's quite the reverse."
Before quitting this part of the prison we peeped in at one other ceU, and found another
man, with his coat off and arms folded, pacing his ceU in a furious manner.
dibtaby fob female fbisombbs, may, 1847.
Breakfast.—i pint of cocoa, made with J oz. cocoa nibs, J oz. molasses, 2 oz. milk, and 6 oz. bread.
Dinner.—(Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday).—4 oz. meat (without
bone and after boiling), è lb. potatoes, and 6 oz. bread.
Supper.—1 pint of gruel, made with 2 oz. of oatmeal or wheaten flour, sweetened with i oz. of molasses, and
8 oz. of bread.
Diet for Prieoners under Punishment for Prison Offences for terms not exceeding three days.—1 lb. of bread daily.
The íoregoing dietary for the Millbank Prison I hereby certify as proper to be adopted.
G. Gbey.
THE •' WARRIOR " HULK WITH THE " SULPHUR " WASHING-SHIP IN THE DISTANCE.
TOP DECK OP THE "UNITÉ" HOSPITAL SHIP,
ATTACHED TO THE HDLKS AT WOOLVTICH.
MILLBAIÍK PEISON.
257
There are also some Catholic wards in Mülhank prison. These are situate in pentagon 5
(D and F wards).
" There's nothing particular in this ward," says our guide, as we reach the middle floor of
pentagon 5 ; " only it's a Catholic ward, and tailoring is carried on in it."
The warder lifts up the register number at the ceU-door and shows us the name of the
inmate, with E C, meaning Eoman Catholic, appended to it.
" Please, sir," says a little Irish boy, crying, as we reach the end cell, " will I go away
jßrom here before I've served aU my time ?"
The warder tells him that if^ he's a good lad he'U go to the Isle of Wight, and learn a
trade, and come out a better fellow than if he was with his father or mother.
The boy smiles through his tears, and says, "Oh, thank you, sir."
" Those in D ward here," says the warder to us as we go, " are the worst class of pri¬
soners. The Eoman Catholic prisoners are generally the very dregs of society, and the most
ignorant of aU the convicts we get ; they keep for ever tramping through the country when
they're out. Many of these boys maintain five and six people outside the prison. Some
of them tell me they get as much as forty pounds a week, regularly, by picking pockets of
fiirst-rate people, and being covered by men who go out as ' stalls ' with them to receive the
property as soon as they've stolen it."
The Catholic prisoners go to school on Wednesday and Saturday, and receive instruction
from their priest on Sunday and Wednesday. They're supplied with any Catholic books
that the priest allows.
Adjoining the school-room to pentagons 5 and 6 there is a smaE room for the CathoEc
clergyman, where the prisoners of that faith confess. The priest also addresses the prisoners
in the school-room for about an hour before school begins at three o'clock.
The place of worship for the Protestant prisoners, we may add here, is a polygonal build¬
ing, situate in the very centre of the prison itself. It is entered by three raised passages or
arcades, that stretch like rays from the central edifice to the surrounding pent^ons.
" The passage on the right," said the warder, " leads to pentagons 1 and 2 ; the one on
the left communicates with pentagons 5 and 6. The prisoners from those two pentagons fill
the floor of the chapel, and the other passage is for the prisoners of pentagon 4, who occupy
the g^ery." , We attended Divine service here, and found the prisoners both attentive and
weU-conducted.
" This is the convalescent ward," said our warder, as we entered the place ; " it's a portion
of the infirmary, where men are located when they get better, or if their disease is in any
way contagious."
Outside the doors of the cells here were tin tablets for the names of the inmates to be
inserted, with the date of their admission.
In one ceU that we peeped into, through the inspection slit, we saw a mnTi in bed and
others sitting beside him, while some were lying dressed on the other beds, of which
there were six in aE.
The other ceEs were similar to the large or treble ceEs that we had already seen. In
one such ceE that we peeped into, we saw the wretched Ettle deformed dwarf that murdered
the soEcitor in Bedford Eow. He was by his bedside, on his knees, apparently in the act of
prayer. On the tablet outside was written—
" 2525, C W ,
Admitted 7th May, '56.
Pentagon 6."
The warder told us that this was a favourite attitude with the wretched humpback, and that
he knelt down—at least so the man assured the officer—^to ease his head.
"My opinion is," added the warder, "he's insane. He's not one of the riotous
lunatics, but one of the quiet, suEen kind."
258
THlî GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
Wo M ere about to peep into another cell in the next passage, when the warder pulled us
back, saying "Be careful, sir! that's a blackguard fellow in there. He ' s broken all his cell
repeatedly, and is one of the most desperate men on the face of God's earth. You'd better
mind, or he '11 throw something out upon you if he sees you looking." The man was lying
down when we first peeped through the inspection slit, but hearing voices he jumped up,
and commenced pacing to and fro in his cell. " He's a young fellow, too—isn't he, sir?
He's one of those uncultivated brutes we get here occasionally, that doesn't know B from a
buU's-foot, as the saying is, and wants only hoofs and horns to make a beast of him. You
had better come away, or he's sure to job something out through the inspection slit, and
perhaps blind you for life ; nothing would please him better."
*#* Refractory and Da/rk Cells.—At MRlbank there is one refractory ceU to each pen¬
tagon, and this is always on the top floor. These have a little light admitted to them. The
dark cells, however, occupy the basement of pentagon 5, and are nine in number. There are
also nine dark ceRs in pentagon 6 ; but those are not considered healthy, and therefore not used.
"Would you like to see the dark ceUs?" inquires our attendant, after he has shown us
into the kitchen of pentagons 5 and 6, where the sand on the flagstones is worked in curious
devices.
Immediately a light is obtained, we saUy into the entrance of pentagon 5, and then,
turning sharply round, our guide says before we descend—" You must mind your hat
coming down here, sir." The ofliccr leads the way, with the flaming candle in his hand.
On reaching the bottom of the low and narrow staircase, the way lies along a close
passage, so close that we are almost obliged to proceed sideways. Then we come to a small
door. " Now stoop, sir," says the warder; and, as we do so, we enter a narrow, oblong cell^
somewhat like a wine-cellar, and having the same fungusey smeU as belongs to any under¬
ground place.
" What is that noise over-head ?" we ask. It sounds like the throbbing of a legion of
water-wheels.
" Oh, that's the weavers' looms," is the answer.
The place is intensely dark—the candle throws a faint yellow glare on the walla for a
few paces round ; but it is impossible to see clearly to the end even of the cell we are¿n.
" There's a fellow in the cell who pretends to be mad," says the warder. "He declares
that they put something in his soup, and that there's a dreadful smell in his cell."
We inquire whether the cell in which he is confined is completely dark? "Dark!" is
the answer. " It's impossible to describe the darkness—it's pitch Hack : no dungeon was
ever so dark as it is."
"A week in such a place," we add, "must bring the most stubborn temper down."
" Not a bit of it," returns our guide. " The men say they could do a month of it on their
head—that's a common expression of their's. We had a lot of women down here for disor¬
derly conduct once. We couldn't keep them up stairs. But our punishment is now nothing
to what I've seen here formerly. Our governor is so lenient and kind a man to prisoners,
and even officers, that there's a great change indeed."
The men are visited in the dark cells every hour, we were told, " for a man might hang
himself up, orbe sick," said our informant. "Those round air-holes are for ventilation,
Sir.
The bed is the same as at PentonviUe ; a bare wooden couch just a foot above the ground,
the cell boarded, and not damp.
The preceding conversation took place in a kind of dark lobby, or ante-chamber, outside
the cell itself. Presently the warder proceeded to unbar the massive outer door, and,
throwing this back, to talk, through the grated gate, with the wretched man imprisoned
within.
millbaiíe: peison.
259
"Kow, my man," said the warder in a kindly voice, "why dor¿t you try and he a
better fellow ? You know I begged you off six days last time, and then you gave me your
word you would go on differently for the future."
"Well, I ÂMOîf I did," was the reply, "and I kept my word, too, for three weeks;
but now I am with men I can't do with any way." And, having delivered himself of this
speech, the wretched man proceeded to pace the cell in the darkness, with his hands in his
pockets.
" They tried to kill me at Dartmoor," he muttered, " and now they're going to finish, it. *
"Oh, nonsense!" said the warder, aside; "you behaved well enough under me when
you were here before, and why can't you do so now?" The door was closed upon the
wretched convict, and we ascended the body of the prison once more.*
*^* Guarding of the Prison ly Night, Opening the Gates, and Gleaning the Cells and Passages
in the Morning.—The official staff at MiUbank is composed of 2 chief warders, 9 principal
warders, 30 warders, and 62 assistant warders, in all 103 officers, so that as the full com¬
plement of prisoners at this jail consists of 1,100 males, there is upon an average 1 officer to
nearly every 11 men, whilst at Pentonville the proportion of officers to men is but 1 to 18.
One-half of the warders remain in the prison one night, and the other half the next. One
officer is deputed by the principal warder to remain in charge of the " Pentagon (or warder's)
Tower," and he holds the keys to answer the alarm-bell in case of fire or outbreak. The
other officers, who remain in to form a guard, sleep in the main guard-room—a place with broad
sloping benches, similar to those seen in the guard-room of barriicks. - There is a bell from
all the pentagons leading to the principal guard-room, so that the officers can be immediately
summoned in case of alarm. There are nine night officers on duty in pentagon 4, on
account of its containing several large " associated rooms," but in the other pentagons, there
are only two, and in some instances but one, on night duty—^in addition to the officer
stationed in the tower. Besides these there is another officer under arms in the exercising
yards of each pentagon, and two sentries stationed in the garden surrounding the prison.
The outer guard-room, which is a kind of rude porter's lodge, on the opposite side to
the gate-keeper's room at the principal entrance, is furnished with a stand of carbines,
ranged in racks along one side of the wall, and a string of cutlasses on a padlocked chain,
hanging down Mke a fringe below. Here the sergeant of the outer guard remains all night.
(" This is Mr. Lenox," said our guide, as he introduced us to the officer in question—^"he
has been an old soldier himself, sir"). A rude square wooden arm-chair drawn up before
the fire seemed to point out the veteran's resting-place. " He visits," our attendant went
on, "the sentries in the garden at stated hours throughout the night, nor does he take
his SOT.tries off till it is reported to him that all the prisoners are present in their cells in
the morning. The reporting is done in this way, sir:—At a quarter before six all the
warders who have slept out of the prison are admitted at the gates, and then the officers in
• RETtTRir OP PUNISHMENTS OP MAUE CONVICTS IN MILEBANX PKI80N, POR THE YEAR 1854.
, (with a Cat
I with a Birch .
In Handcuffs ....
r» 1 n 11 5 Estions .
Dark CeU |
» ;r. „ ( ■wEh Kations .
Kefractory CeU |
On Bread and Water Diet
Deprived of one Meal
Admonished . . . •
Adults.
Juveniles.
Total.
2
0
2
0
4
4
3
0
3
8
0
8
33
11
44
28
6
34
69
11
70
315
228
543
239
105
344
314
82
396
1,001
447
1,448
260
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
charge of the several warders' towera let them into the wards of their respective pentagons,
when they, one and all, go roimd and knock at the different cells, as a notice for the prisoners
to put out their signal-sticks. This is expected to be done immediately after the first beU
rings at five minutes to six. The warder then counts the signal-sticks, and if he finds aU
the prisoners under his charge are present in their cells, he reports his ward as ' all correct'
to the principal warder of the pentagon, whose duty it is to be in his tower at six o'clock.
The principals then proceed to the sergeant of the main guard, and report ' all correct ' (or
the contrary), to him ; whereupon he communicates as much to the sergeant of the outer
guard, who at six o'clock waits at the inner gate for orders, and then the garden sentries
are dismissed."
In addition to the outer guard-room, with its stand of arms, there is also an arm-room
at the inner gate. This is, curiously enough, placed in a kind of loft above the bed-room of
the inner-gate keeper, so as to be of difficult access to the prisoners, in case of an outbreak.
This gate keeper's bed-room is on one side Of the archway opposite to the lodge in which he
rests by day, and where there is likewise a stand of some four blunderbusses kept in a rack,
ready loaded, to be given out to each warder passing the inner gate with a party of men.
In the little triangular bed-room of the porter we found a tall slender ladder resting
against the wall, near the tidy white counterpaned bed, that was turned down ready for the
night, and a small trap-door let into the ceiling. The ladder was placed at the edge of the trap,
so that we might inspect the apartment above. The hole was not large enough to allow our
body to pass, so, standing on the top "rungs," we thrust our head and shoulders into the room,
and found the walls covered with rows of dumpy thick-barrelled blimderbusses, and bright
steel bayonets and horse-pistols, with a bunch or two of black-handled cutlasses at the top.
Beside the window were a vice and a few tools for the repairing and cleaning of the weapons,
and in the ceiling above another trap was visible, leading, we were told, to a similarly-
stocked apartment on the upper floor.
At six o'clock the second bell begins, and this is the signal for unlocking; whereupon
the prisoners are turned out of their cells, and the cleansing operations for the morning
hegin. For this purpose the men are turned out three at a time to empty their slops, and
then to sweep their cells into the adjoining passage.
The process of cleaning the prison at Mülbank differs but slightly from that of Penton-
ville. It forms, of course, the first portion of the day's work, and is executed by the
prisoners, each man having to clean out his own cell, and some few being "told off" for
the sweeping of the passages as well as the court-yards.
One of our visits to MRlbank prison began as early as half-past six in the morning, at
which time we found the court-yards and passages alive with cleaners. In the outer court¬
yard was a gang of men and a warder, the latter armed with a carbine, the brass barrel of
which flashed in the light as he moved to and fro ; for it is the custom at Millbank as we have
said, to allow no prisoner outside the inner gate, unless attended by an officer under arms.
Here the men were engaged in tidying the gravelled area ; one was rolling the ground—the
heavy metal cylinder that he dragged after him emitting a loud, metallic crushing noise as he
went ; another was drawing along behind him a couple of brooms, ranged side by side, and
so lining the earth almost as regularly as the sky of a wood-engraving, till it showed the
marks of the comb, as it were, as distinctly as the hair of a newly-washed charity boy.
" Those men you see there," whispered our guide as we passed, " are short-sentence
men ; for they have, of course, the least disposition to escape. Some are in only for four or
five years—anything under ten years we consider a short sentence, and such men only are
put to clean in the yards. Again, they are all men in association, and who have therefore
gone through their probation in separate confinement, so that we have some knowledge of
their character and conduct before they are let out even thus far."
Then, as we passed the inner gate, we came upon more men sweeping, and rolling, and
MILLBAM PRISON.
261
cmling the other court-yards, whilst in the passages we encountered prisoner after prisoner,
each down on his knees, and, with his jacket off, scorning away at the flags with sand and
holystone. On entering the warders' tower, too—^the marteUo-like building that stands
in the centre of the exercising yards within each pentagon—the boards of the circular
apartment were a dark-brown, with their recent washing. " Here," said our informant,
" the oflScers of this pentagon dine. The tower is in charge of an acting principal warder,
and he is responsible that all doors leading to it are ' double-shotted.' No person can go in
and out without his permission, excepting a superior ofidcer, who has similar keys."
Ágainst the walls, here, was a fanciful placard, drawn in red and blue ink, which, we
were told, was a general roll of all prisoners located in the pentagon ; and here, too, was
iiffixed, near the door, another written document, headed " Goternok's Order—Scale for
deeming Wards."* "We went up-stairs to the principal warder's room, and found the officer
in his shirt-sleeves busy writing out some official papers for the morning.
*#* Breakfast, Sçc.—The cleaning of the prison lasts up to twenty minutes past seven,
and at twenty-five minutes the bell rings to prepare for the serving of breakfast.
There is a cook-house to every two pentagons, situate on the ground-floor, at the point
where the sides of the neighbouring pentagons join. The principal warder who accompanied
us on our rounds, knocked with his keys against the door as we approached one of the kitchens.
We entered, and found it a sufficiently spacious apartment, the floor of which was brown as
the top of a custard, with its fresh coating of sand. The warder-cook was habited in the
approved white jacket and apron, and had five prisoners under him, who were dressed in
the prison gray trousers and tick-like check shirts, and had each a leathern " stall," or pad,
about their knees. Here were large black boilers, with bright-red copper lids, at the end of
* GOVEBNOR'S ORDER.—SCARE VOR CLEARING WARDS.
9<A January, 1856.
Monday Morning.—The officers of the wards will commence their duties at 5-56, by seeing (between first
and second bells) that all prisoners put out signal-sticks; and they will report to the principal or tower warder
at 6 A.M. (when second bell rings) if all is correct or otherwise. They will then lock the gates at the end of
their wards, and the centre gate, leading to No. 2 passage. They will next commence unlocking the gates and
unbolting the cells themselves in No. 1 passage, calling out prisoners three at a time, to empty slops, taking
care that only one at a time enters the closet. When all the prisoners have emptied their utensils, and
swept out their cells into the passage, they will then direct the prisoners to place their dirty linen on their
cell-gates, and to show each article separately. Then they will take a prisoner with them, who will carry the
linen bag, and place each man's kit in the same bag, as it is counted by the officer, after which they will
lock and bolt all gates and doors in No. 1 passage, proceed to No. 2 passage, and perform the same duties.
They will then take out eight prisoners, placing one in the centre of the ward, to clean the closet, &c., six
others, with their tables and buckets, to cleau the windows. The eight prisoners they will cause to sweep
the passages and dust the walls. After completing the above duties, they will lock and bolt up their
prisoners, when the bell rings, at 7*25, for breakfast. They will then take two prisoners to the kitchen,
fetch breakfast, and serve the same in the following manner :—By unbolting and bolting the doors themselves ;
at the same time they will hand to each convict his bread, and measure his cocoa from the can. After having
served all their prisoners, they will proceed with one prisoner to the kitchen, with the can and basket, take
the prisoner back to his cell, lock and bolt him up ; also examine all their gates and doors before going to
their rooms, to prepare for their own breakfast, at 8'20 a.m.
Tuesday.—Passages to be stoned; the men to work backwards, and facing the centre of ward. Four cells
are to be cleaned every morning, and one passage stoned (beginning on Tuesday, and going on to Friday
four days—so that passages may be stoned twice a week).
Saturday.—All wards to be washed with hrush and cloth.
Sunday.—^Nothing required to be fione, only the wards swept out and dusted. On this day the men rise
an hour later than on week days.
For sweeping the yards, we were informed that the officer of the ward appoints any one he pleases for
such duty, each exercising-yard being cleaned by the first ward coming down in the morning. There are
three yards to each pentagon, but the centre yard is not used at all for exercising—only those on each side
so that, as there are six wards to each pentagon, each exercising yard belongs to tiiree wards.
262
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
the kitchen, steaming and humming with their boiling contents, under the capacious, hood¬
like chimney and long dressers at the side, and large high-rimmed tables in the centre,
that seemed like monster wooden trays.
" They are now preparing for breakfast," said our guide. " There, you see, are the
cans for the cocoa," pointing to a goodly muster of bright tin vessels, in size and shape like
watering-pots, and each mai-ked with the letters of the wards from A to H. On the table were
rows of breads, like penny loaves, arranged in rank and file, as it were.
"This is the female compartment," said the officer, pointing to the farther side of a
wooden partition that stood at the end of the kitchen. "Here, you see, is the place where
the women enter from pentagon 3, whilst this side is for the men coming from pentagon 4."
Presently the door was opened and files of male prisoners were seen, with warders, without.
"Now, they're coming down to have breakfast served," said the cook. "F ward!" cries
an officer, and immediately two prisoners enter and run away with a tin can each, while
another holds a conical basket and counts bread into it—saying, 6, 12, 18, and so on.
When the males had been all served, and the kitchen was quiet again, the cook said to
us, "Now you'll see the females, sir. Are all the cooks out?" he' cried in a loud voice ; and
when he was assured that the prisoners serving in the kitchen had retired, the principal
matron came in at the door on the other side of the partition. Presently she cried out,
"Now, Miss Gardiner, if you please!" Whereupon the matron so named entered, costumed
in a gray straw-bonnet and fawn-coloured merino dress, with a jacket of the same mateiial
over it, and attended by some two or three female prisoners habited in their loose, dark-
brown gowns, check aprons, and close white cap.
The matron then proceeded to serve and count the bread into a basket, and afterwards
handed the basket to one of the females near her. "I wish you people would move quick
out of the way there," says the principal female officer to some of the women who betray a
disposition to stare ; and while this is going on, another convict enters and goes ofi" with the
tin can full of cocoa.
Then comes another matron with other prisoners, and so on, till all are served, when
the cook says, " Good morning. Miss Crosswell," and away the principal matron trips,
leaving the kitchen all quiet again—so quiet, indeed, that we hear the sand crunching under
the feet.
*#* Exercièing.—In the space enclosed within each pentagon there are two large " airing
yards," one of which contains a circular pump, with a long horizontal and bent handle
stretching from it on either side. Here one ward of each pentagon is generally put to exer¬
cise at a time, though sometimes there are two wards out together. Exercising usually com¬
mences directly after chapel in the morning (at a quarter past nine). Each pentagon has six
wards to be exercised every day, and the practice is generally to put three to exercise before
dinner and three after. Those wards which are for school in the afternoon exercise in the
morning, and those which are for morning-school exercise in the afternoon. The exercise
lasts one hour. The men walk round the large gravelled court, with the walls of the pentagon
surrounding them on all sides.
The turn at the pump lasts fifteen minutes, and generally sixteen men are put on—four
at each large crank-shaped handle. The others walk round at distances of five or six yards
between each man. They go along at an ordinary pace. They may walk as they hke—
slowly or quickly, only they must keep the fixed distance apart. At the pump the men
take off their jackets, and stand generally two on one side of the handle and two on the
other. At a given signal they commence working.
In the yards of some pentagons there are no pumps, and there the men walk ro\md
merely. The lame are generally placed in the centre, and the attending warders stand on
one side. In the warder's tower, which occupies the centre of these airing-grounds, we
MILLBANK PRISON.
263
could see the men exercising aU round us—some in gray, and some in brown suits, circling
along, one after another, till it made one giddy to watch them.
In the airing yards of the general ward belonging to pentagon 5, we, at a later period of
the day, found the bakers exercising, walking round and round, each man being about
fifteen or twenty feet apart from the next. (The least distance allowed is six feet). The
clothes of these men were stained with the flour into a kind of whitey-brown, and the master
baker, in his white jacket, stood on one side watching them the while.
Large Associated Rooms.—These large rooms constitute one of the peculiarities of
Millbank prison. There are four such associated rooms, all on one floor, and each of the
size of fifteen cells and the passage, thrown into one chamber They are all in pentagon 4 ;
three of them are workshops—where the men work, as shown in the engraving—and
the other is the infirmary. Men are put into these associated rooms after having been six
months in separation.
The term for separate confinement in Millbank, it should be remarked, is one-third less
than at Pentonville. The governor limits the separation to half a year, we were told, beeause
such was the practice at the prison before the order came out, and he therefore continues to
restrict it to that number of months, by a discretionary power from the prison directors.
"Now we'U go into one of the large rooms, and see them all at breakfast, if you please,"
said "Warder Power to us, as we were leaving the kitclien.
Accordingly we moimted the narrow stone staircase, the steps of which were white and
sanded. Here we fmmd a warder at the door.
" Stand on one side ! Stand on one side !" cried our companion, as we entered.
It was a finely-ventilated apartment, and the air swept freshly by the cheek ; nor was the
slightest effluvium perceptible, though there were half a hundred people confined in it.
The men sleep here, work here, take their meals here. They roll their beds up into the
shape of big muffs, and place them above on the shelf. The tables are "unshipped" at night,
and the hammocks are slung to the hooks along the rails on either side of the gangway down
the centre.
Our informant explained that these large rooms are exactly the length of a passage, and
five yards wide. " They'll hold eighty-three," he said; "but there's not more than fifty-
six allowed now."
The roof is lined with sheet-iron, the first or upper roof being boarded ; the lower one
arched, and of corrugated iron-plate, with smaU iron rafters helow.
These large rooms are severally divided in the centre by a hot-air shaft, which is some¬
what like a square kUn whitewashed, and with a huge black letter inscribed in a circle
upon it. By this shaft sits the warder, so as to have one entire half of the room imder his
eye. The men as we entered were sitting upon forms, two at each table, and so silent
was the ward, that the warder's voice, speaking to us, sounded distressingly loud, and we
could hear the munching of the men at breakfast. Each man was newly washed, and had his
hair lined with the marks of the comb as regularly as the newly-swept gravel in the court¬
yards, whilst all had a bright tin mug, full of cocoa, and a small loaf of bread before them.
There are seven tables on either side of each half of the large room, and two men at each
table. In the centre, by the hot-air shaft, is a small desk with physic bottles on it, each
labelled, " table-spoonfuls to be taken times a day," and the bottle divided into
"I, II, III, IV" parts.
Against the walls, on either side, were rolls of hammocks on the top shelves ; and on
the shelves below were small pyramids of Bibles and Prayer-books, surmounted with a eomb
and hrush; while in the centre of the ward hung a thermometer. " This is the instructing
offlcer of the ward," our attendant whispered, as the officer passed by. " They'll eommence
their work at 8 o'clock."
264
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON
Presently, when the breakfast was finished, the instructing warder, at the end of the
large room, cried " Attention ! Stand up !" Whereupon a prisoner repeated as follows :—
" Bless, 0 Lord, these. Thy good creatures, to our use, and us to Thy service, through Jesus
Christ. Amen."
All the prisoners exclaimed, " Amen !" in response, and immediately proceeded to sweep
up the crumbs, and put their tins on the shelves above, while some wiped their cocoa cans
with cloths, and others swept the stones under the tables.
After this they unshipped the tables, and proceeded to work.
" These men," said our warder, " are shoemaking and tailoring. One division is occupied
with one trade, and the other with the other."
From H large room we passed into that marked G, where we found the men aU
tailoring. The place was intensely silent—as silent, indeed, as a quakers' meeting. And
thence we passed into F room, where we found them engaged partly in tailoring and partly
in biscuit-bag making.
" We have made as many as 20,000 biscuit-bags for the navy in a week here, and
wove a greater portion of the cloth, too," the warder said to us, with no little pride in
the industry of his men.
We found some of the prisoners engaged in reading, while waiting tiU the officers
returned from their breakfast. One was perusing a treatise on " Infidelity ; its Aspects,
Causes, and Agencies;" another, the "Home Friend—a weekly miscelUmy a third, the
" Saturday Magazine a fourth, the " History of Redemption;" and a fifth, the " Family
Quarrel—an humble story."
Suddenly the warder cried, " Attention !" and (these having said grace before we came
in) immediately up started the whole of the men ; some seized their table, and, unshipping
it, ranged it against the wall ; others placed the forms in their proper places.
" Sit down to your work, now ! Come, sit down to your work quickly !" was then the
order. Accordingly, some of the prisoners seated themselves on tables, and commenced
working at convict clothes ; and others, on benches, began stitching at the coarse bags—the
bags being fastened to the hammock-hooks. At the end of the ward was a huge püe of new
brown bags, ready to be conveyed to the manufacturer's department.
"Let's see, my lad, whether you belong to the 'forty,'" said our guide to one of the
workers.
The boy, smiling, put out his hand, and, sure enough, there were the five blue dots
between the finger and thumb indicative of his being a professional thief.
" If they're not closely watched," added our informant, " they scrape on their cans the
cant name that they go by outside, as well as their sentences, so that their ' pals' may know
they're in here, and for how long."
*#* TA^ Inf/rmwry.—The next place we visited was the large room devoted to the sick.
Here, outside the door we noted big baths, like huge tin highlows ; and on entering we
found the room of the same extent, and fitted with the same kind of roofing as the rooms
we had just left, but down each side were ranged small iron bedsteads (seven on either
side of the ward), and fitted with the ordinary yeUow-brown rugs and blue check curtains.
Some of the men were in bed and sitting up reading; others were lying down, looking very ill.
The fiag-stones were intensely white, and set with small brown cocoa-fibre mats next to
every bed. Near these was a small stand, covered with medicine bottles and books.
Here the first man we saw had a large black caustic-made ring round his cheek. He
was suffering from erysipelas, and the black circle was to keep it from spreading any farther.
Presently a prisoner brought a linseed-meal poultice to one of the invalids. " He's an
Italian," the warder whispered in our ear (the dark, raisin-coloured eyes, and the blue
MILLBA2ÍK PRISON".
265
mould of the sprouting beard said as much). " He's got an abscess in the groin. It's venereal,
I dare say."
The men who are upon the other side of the ward place themselves at the head of their
beds, and, as we pass, stand straight up in the attitude of attention.
Now we come to another prisoner ; he is in bed with a bad knee, and sitting up while
he binds a bandage on the joint. Beside him is a convict, who acts as the attendant in the
infirmary, and habited in a loose light blue dress, similar to that worn by the convalescents
in the "Unité" hospital ship, at "Woolwich. Now there is the sound of a bell. " That's
the doctor's beU," we are told.
On the other side of the ward is a little brown-faced negro boy, with his tar-coloured
cheeks and short-cropt wooUy head, just showing above the white sheets. He has a poul¬
tice on one side of his face. "What's the matter with you ?" says the warder. "Gota
breaking out in my cheek, sir," he answers, pointing to the bandage.
" No bad cases, have you ?" asks our attendant. " No, sir," is the reply. " Thai man at
the end of the room is the worst—him with the erysipelas. The other man's recover¬
ing fast."
" "What's the matter with you ?" says Warder Power, to an old man in a flannel jacket,
and in bed. " I've had a very bad throat, please, sir." Then we pass more men, who are
up and dressed, and standing at the head of their beds, saluting us as we go by ; and pre¬
sently we reach one bed where the clothes are hooped up in a grave-like mound. " What
are ym suffering from ?" our attendant again inquires.
" Case of white swelling, sir," is the answer of the infirmary warder, who walks at our
side ; and so saying, he turns back the bed-clothes, and reveals a knee as big at the joint as
a foot-ball, and the white parchment skin scarred with the still red wounds of old leech-bites.
The poor lad is a pasty-white in the face, and has his shoulders swathed in flannel.
Next we noted another bed, with a prisoner half concealed in it. " What's he got ?" our
warder asked. "Inflammation of the lungs," we were told; and the man, as we went,
coughed "sharp and dry." " Bad case," whispered the infirmary offlcer.
" That man, there," says our guide, pointing to another who sits beside the bed, with his
head hanging down on his chest, " was paralyzed here for a long time and on the water-
bed. We thought he'd never recover ; and now he's quite an idiot."
At the end of the infirmary is a man huddled in bed. " Bronchitis, sir," says the infirm
ary warder, as he sees us look at the prisoner.
The man never stirs nor raises his eye, and seems as if unwilling to be noticed.
On our leaving the sad place, the warder stops in the passage immediately outside the
door and says to us, " He's in for embezzHng a large amount. He was coRector of inlgnd
revenue in the county of York, and made away with the money he received—several
thousands, I've heard."
*#* Th£ General Ward.—The only other large room is the "general ward," as it is caUed.
This is a separate apartment, built out in the open space or court within pentagon 5. It
was originally constructed for juvenile prisoners under eighteen years of age ; and, at that
time, a system of tailoring, shoemaking, &c., was carried out by the lads located in it.
They worked, ate, and slept, in common, in this one room. But when the olaR» of convict
boys was found to be diminishing, and the system of transportation was discontinued,
excepting for long sentences, the juvenile ward was converted into the "general ward,"
for the purpose of receiving prisoners in association; for at that time the associated wards
were not large enough to accommodate aR the prisoners—^the system at "Millba-nk being to
place every man in silent association, after having been six months in separate confinement.
"Mr. Hall," said our attendant to a warder near at hand, "just fetch me the key of the
general ward." And when the warder returned, we were ushered into the apartment. We
19"
260
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDON.
found it a large square room, as spacious as a law-court, but under repair—in tbe course of
being whitewashed. In its desolate condition, it struck us as being not unlike a small market¬
place on a Sunday. The skylighted roof was of light iron-work, like a railway terminus; and
there was a kind of a lai'ge square counter fixed in the centre of the ward, having a desk
within. AU round the sides was ranged a series of large compartments, caUed "bays," and each
separated by a light wooden partition from the next. In each of these bays six men, we were
told, worked, dined, and slept: three lying at night in hammocks below, and three above. These
bays were like the boxes at "dining-rooms." The table to each of the compartments had a kind
of leg, that " flapped up," and the table itself admitted of being hooked into the waU at the
end of the bay. "When the prisoners have finished their meals," our informant said, "they
turn over the leaves of the upper part of the table, and draw out supports from the side of the
bay, for the leaves to rest upon ; and so, by covering over the entire bay, the table forms a
shop-board for the prisoners to work upon as tailors. Nothing but tailoring is carried on in
the general ward." The flooring is of asphalte, blacked and polished as at PentonviUe.
Round the platform, in the centre, were four coimters ; and here, we were informed, the
instructors stand and give out the work to the prisoners in the bays. An instructor is told
off for each division, besides discipline officers ; and the instructor goes roimd to the bays
and looks after the work. All the men—and there are 180 located here when the place is fiiU
—work with the greatest precision, and in perfect silence, so that, as the warder assured us,
one might hear a pin faU on the floor. The principal warder sits at the central desk on a
raised platform, and there are benches ranged on one side of the ward for the school. Each
bay has its gaslight, and in summer the skylights can be raised by a simple contrivance.
On Sunday the general ward is used as the CathoUc chapel, and such prisoners as belong to
the Church of Rome attend worship there.
The Prison Garden and Churchya/rd.—At MUlbank, owing to the large extent oí
ground surroimding the prison, like a broad moat within the waUs, there is what is termed a
garden class of prisoners. This consists principaUy of convicts labouring under scrofula
or falling away in flesh, so that it is sometimes termed the "convalescent class" also.
Prisoners belonging to it are aRowed extra food. They have a pint of new milk in the
morning for breakfast, one and a half pound of bread a day, nine ounces of mutton in broth,
a smaU quantity of beer, and a pint of milk again in the evening ; they are also permitted
to walk in the outer garden for two hours every day. These prisoners are lodged in
B ward, of pentagon 4. It was here that we met three "privileged men," in light-blue
clothes, with two red stripes on the arm. Such men, we were told, can be kept here instead
of being sent to the Hulks or the other public works. They are always the best-behaved and
most trusty of the prisoners. The last of the privileged men that passed us had so different
a look from that of the ordinary convict, that we could not help noticing him particularly,
and then we recognized the once eminent City merchant, who was sentenced to transporta¬
tion for fraud some months ago. He saw by our look that we detected him even in his
convict garb, and hurried past us.
" Yes, sir," said the warder, " the life here must be a great change, for such as him
especially. Some of the prisoners are better off than ever they were; but a person like
that one, who thought nothing of dealing to the extent of a quarter of a million a day, must
feel it sorely."
This person, we were told, found special consolation in the study of languages, and on
the table of his cell was a high pyramid of books, consisting of French and German
exercises, with others of a religious character.
At another part of the day we visited the garden. Passing through a small door in the
large wooden gate, by the side of the main entrance, we found ourselves in a spacious yard
in front of pentagon 6, and with the high boundary waU shutting it off from the public way
MILLBANK PEISON-
267
without. Here, in the centre, was an immense oval tank or reservoir (like that formerly in
the Green Park, hut much smaller), and with a whitewashed hricken rim, standing above
the ground. This was divided into three compartments, and was supplied with water from
the Thames, originally for the use of the prisoners. The centre compartment was intended
to act as a filter for the water passing from one end of the reservoir to the other ; but this
was found a failure, and so it certainly appeared, for the colour of the liquid on the filtered
side was the light-green opaque tint of diluted " absinthe," and but a shade clearer than the
unfiltered pool which partook strongly of the horse-pond character—a weak slush. This
reservoir is no longer used to supply the prison with water, for after the outhreak of the
CON'VICTS WORKING IN THE GARDEN GROUND, ATTENDED BY AN ARMED WARDER.
cholera in '54, the several pentagons were provided with water pumped up from the artesian
wells in Trafalgar Square.
Hence we passed through small palisaded gates into the prison kitchen-garden, whore
there was a hroad gravelled walk between trimlj^-kept beds on either side.
"The garden next the prison," said the warder, who still accompanied us, "belongs
to the governor, and that next the boundary wall to the chaplain. The deputy-governor's
garden adjoins the chaplain's, a little farther on. There is a gardener, with three prisoners,
to manage the whole." Here we found fruit-trees, and currant and other bushes, as well as
carefully-tended beds of fresh-looking vegetables.
At the entrance to the tongue or V-shaped strip of land, lying between pentagons 5 and
6, stood a warder, with the bai-rel of a blunderbuss resting across his arm.
This told us that the prisoners employed in the garden were at work at that part. "Wc
went across to see the kind of labour performed, and here, among the convict gang, we noted
268
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDON.
one whose estate had hut recently sold for £25,000, dressed in the prison garb and busv
hoeing between the rows of beans that were planted there.
Thenco our path lay past the deputy-governor's long strip of garden, and so through
another low gate in the palisading that divided the kitchen-garden from the ground devoted
to the general purposes of the prison. Here on one side of the central pathway the ground
was planted with mangold-wurzel, and on the other with white carrots. There are six
prisoners at work in these gardens all the year round (watched over by an armed officer),
either cultivating the ground or rolling the paths.
At the edge of the pathway stood a desolate-looking black sentry-box, erected for the
officer who is on duty in the garden at night. The next tongue of land between pentagons
4 and 5 was covered with a crop of rank grass, so thick and tall that it positively undulated in
the breeze like a field of green com. "Nothing else wiU grow in those places, unless they're
in the very best aspect," our attendant told us. He thought there were altogether about
four acres of garden ground round about the prison.
Then as we turned the comer by the general centre tower, at the apex of pentagon 4, we
discovered, on the side of the path next the boundary-wall, an oblong piece of land,
enclosed within a low black iron rail, and with a solitary elder-tree, growing in a round green
tuft, close beside the fence. This was exactly opposite to the tongue of ground between the
pentagons 3 and 4, so that it occupied very nearly the same position at the back of the jail
as the outer gate does in front of it.
" That," said Warder Power, " is the churchyard of the prison. It's no longer used as
a burying-place for the convicts now. In the cholera of 1848, so many corpses were interred
there that the authorities thought it unhealthy. The bodies of convicts dying in the prison
are buried at the Victoria Cemetery, Mile End, now. After a po»t-mortem examination has
taken place, an officer of the prison goes with the coflhi, and is generaRy Ihe only person
present at the ceremony."
We entered the sad spot, and found the earth arranged in mounds, and planted nU over
with marigolds, the bright orange flowers of which studded the place, and seemed in the sun¬
shine almost to spangle the surface. At one part were three tombstones, raised to the
memory of some departed prison officers ;* but of the remains of the wretched convicts that
lay buried there, not a single record was to be found. It was well that no stone chronicled
their wretched fate, and yet it was most sad that men should leave the world in such a way.
• THE POLLOWINO AHE THE INSOBIPTIONS ON THE TOMB-STONES :—
HEBB XIB8 THE BODY OF
ELIZA WILKINSON,
EDMUND JAGG PALMER,
The MtUron of the Oenerai Penitentiaty,
Who died of CouBumptíoxi
The 13th Ansogt, 1828,
In hie 17th year.
To the Memory ol
Se ie gone Itfore.
SUtêst Son of
He was much beloved and
lamented by his Wife and
Friends, and highly respected
by his Brother Officers.
WILLIAM JAQÏÏES,
Late an Officer in the
General Penitentiary,
Who Departed this Life
19th January, 1838.
To the Memory of
Aged 68 Years.
lATE MATRON ZN TBE
GENERAL PENITENTIARY
AT MILLBANX,
WHO DIED AT WOOLWICH,
ON BOARD THE HEROINS,
THEN USED
AS AN HOSPITAL SHIP
FOR FEMALE PRISONERS
EBLONOINO TO THIS PBmON.
HER DEATH,
WHICH HAPPENED
ON THE 24TH MAY, 1824,
DEPRIVED THE PRISONERS
OF A KIND FRIEND,
AND THIS ESTABLISHMENT
OF AN EXCELLENT OFFICER.
MILLBANK PEISOIî.
269
H iv.—e.
The Femdk Convict Triton at Miïïbank.
The female prison, though forming part of the same building as that devoted to the
male prisoners, may still be regarded as a distinct establishment, for it occupies one
entire pentagon (pentagon 3), and has not only a set of officers peculiarly its own, but is
entered by different keys.
The female prison here is to Brixton what the male prison is to Pentonville—a kind of
depot to which the convicts are forwarded as vacancies occur.
At the time of our visit there were 173 female prisoners located in this esta]3lishment,
throughout the several wards ; a portion of whom were in separate confinement, and the
remainder working in association.
" This is Miss Cosgrove, the principal matron, sir," said the warder, as we entered
the gate and were introduced to a good-looking yormg " officer."
" The female uniform, you see," the warder added, "is the same as at Brixton, with the
exception of the bonnets—their's is white straw, and our's is gray.
" This yard," said Miss Cosgrove, opening a door at the side of the passage into a long
narrow airing groimd, where a fat-looking prisoner, in her dark claret-brown gown and
check apron, was walking to and fro by herself, "is for such convicts as are too bad to be
put to exercise with others. That is one of the women who has been acting in the most
obscene and impudent manner at Brixton. "When they're bad, they're bad indeed!" said the
young matron, as we turned away.
" The female officers," replied the warder, " carry out better discipline here than even at
Brixton ; a great deal of determination and energy is required by female officers to do the duty.
The matron now opened a heavy door that moaned on its hinges. " This is A ward,
and has thirty cells in it, exactly the same as those in the male pentagon."
The cells had register numbers outside, but the "diamond gate" was considerably lighter,
though equally as strong as those in the other pentagons.
As we peeped into one of the little cells, we saw seated there a good-looking girl vrith a
skein of thread round her neck, and busy making a shirt. The mattress and blankets were
rolled up into a square bundle, as in the male cells. There was a small wooden stool and
little square table with a gas jet just over it; the bright tins, wooden platter, and salt-box, a
few books, and a slate, and the signal-stick shaped like a harlequin's wand, were all neatly
arranged upon the table and shelf in the comer. The costume of the convicts here is the
same as at Brixton.
"The women are mostly in for common larcenies," said the matron, as we walked
down the long narrow passage between the cells ; " and many of them have been
servants ; some have been gentlemen's servants, and a good number farm servants ; but the
fewest in niunber are, strange to say, of the unfortunate class in the streets."
"Yes," chimes in the warder, "not a great many of fhem come here."
" Generally speaking," said the matron, as she conducted us through the pentagon,
"those who have been very bad outside are found the best in prison both for work and
behaviour ; and the longest-sentenced females are usually the best behaved."
"The long sentences are, mostly, for murder—child-murder," she added; "and this is
usually the first and only offence; but the others are continually in and out, and become
at last regular jail people."
"The farm servants," continued Miss Cosgrove, "are, ordinarily, a better class of
people ; but some are very stubborn. Yes ! one we had in here was very bad."
270
THE GREAT "WORLD OF LONDON.
The convicts pick coir for the first two months, and, if well-behaved for that time, they
are then put to needlework. Their door is bolted up for the first four months of their
incarceration.*
We now entered the laundry, which reminded us somewhat of a fish-market, with its wet-
looking, black, shiny asphalte floor. The place was empty—^work being finished on the
Friday. On Saturday mornings, the convicts who are usually employed to do the washing,
go to school, and in the afternoon they clean the laundry, so as to have it ready for work
on Monday morning. Long dressers stretch round the building ; there is a heavy mangle at
one side, and cloths'-horses, done up in quires, rest against the wall.
We are next led through the drying and getting-up room, and so into the wash-house.
Here we find rows of troughs against the walls, with brass taps, for hot and cold water,
jutting over them. There is a large hricken boiler at one end of the apartment, pails and
tubs stand about, and a few limp-wet clothes are still on the lines. " There are only ten
women washing every week now," observed the matron ; " we have had thirty-six or forty—
quite as many as that. We used to do for the whole service, hut at present we wash only
for the female prisoners and their officers.
• NOTICB TO PEMALE CONVICTS.
Prisoners of good conduct, and maintaining a character for willing industry, will, by this rule, be enabled,
after certain fixed periods, to obtain the higher stages, and gain the priyileges attached to them.
For the present, and until further orders, the following Eules wUl be observed :—
The first stage of penal discipline will be carried out at MUlbank prison, where two classes wUl be esta¬
blished, viz.. The Probation Class, and the Third Class.
The second stage of discipline will be carried out at Brixton, where the prisoners will be divided into the
First, Second, and Third Classes.
The third stage of discipline and industrial training prior to discharge will be carried out at Burlington
House, Fulham, for those prisoners who, by their exemplary conduct in the first and second stages, appear
deserving of being removed to that establishment.
Millbank Probation Class.
1. All prisoners, on reception, will be placed in the probation class, in ordinary cases, for a period
of four months, and, in special cases, for a longer period, according to their conduct. During this time their
cell-doors will be bolted up.
2. The strictest silence will be enforced with prisoners in this class on aE occasions, and they will be
occupied in picking coir, until, by their industry and good conduct, they may appear deserving of other
employment.
3. No prisoner in the probation class will be allowed to receive a visit
4. Every prisoner having passed through the probation class is liable to be sent back thereto, and recom¬
mence the period of probation, upon the recommendation of the governor, and with the sanction of a director.
6. On leaving the probation class, the prisoners will be received into the third class.
Discipline of the Third Class.
6. No prisoner will be allowed to receive a visit until she has been well-conducted for the space of two
months in the third class.
7. The strictest silence wUl be enforced with prisoners in this class on all occasions.
8. Prisoners, whose conduct has been exemplary in the third class for a period of four months, will be
eligible for removal to Brixton when vacancies occur.
KULES FOB THE PENAL CLASS OP PEMALE CONVICTS AT MILLBANK FBISON.
1. To have their cells bolted up, and be kept in strict separation.
2. To be employed in picking coir or oakum, or in some such occupation, for the first three months
after reception.
3. Not to be allowed to receive visits or letters, or to write letters.
4. Not to attend school for the first three months after their reception, and not then unless their eonduo.
may warrant the indulgence. In the event, however, of the governor and chaplain agreeing that any indi¬
vidual female convict in the penal class may be permitted to attend school at an earlier period than three
months, she may attend accordingly.
6. In the event of a female convict in the penal class committing any offence against the prison rules,
the governor shall have the power of punishing such a prisoner, as laid down in rule 13, age 1Ï, of the
rules applicable to the governor, for any term not exceeding seven days.
MILLBANK PKISON.
271
" We've five matrons, ten assistant-matrons, one infirmary cook, and one principal
matron," said Miss Cosgrove, in answer to our inquiry as to the official staff for the female
portion of the prison.
" This is B ward—the first probation ward," says the matron, as we enter another passage.
Here we find the inner wooden doors thrown back. " These women have aU been here
less than three months," adds the principal matron. " Such as you have already seen at
needlework have been here over two months,
and those that have coir to pick have been
in less than two months."
" Oh, yes ; the brooms and scissors are
all taken out every night, the same as at
Brixton," said the matron to us.
As we pass, the convicts all jump up
and curtsey—some of them bobbing two or
three times. All wear the close white prison
cap. Some are pretty, and others coarse-
featured women ; many of them are impu¬
dent-looking, and curl their lip, and stare
at us as we go by.
" We've got many Mary MacWil-
liamses (a model incorrigible) here," said
the warder to us. "Ah, she's a nice crea¬
ture ! I brought her from Brixton."
" She's going back again," interposed
the matron.
"Is she, by George!" rejoined the war¬
der. Then they'll have a nice one to look
after. I went to get the incorrigibles from
Brixton, and brought them here. We went
on very nicely till we got them, and
they've done our business. Some of them
have softened down wonderfully well
though ; we'd hard battles at first, but we
conquered them at last. I do think those
who were brought down here were the very
worst women in existence. I don't fancy
their equal could be found anywhere.
" Therds one of our punishment cells," says the dark-eyed young matron, as we quit B
ward, passage No. 2. The cell was not quite dark ; there was a bed in the comer of it.
" AVhat can the women do there ? " asked we. " Bo ! " cried the matron ; " why, they
can sing and dance, and whistle, and make use, as they do, of the most profane language
conceivable."
We now proceeded up stairs to the punishment cells on the landing. The one we
inspected was intensely dark, with a l^ind of grating in the walls for ventilation, but no
light-hole ; and there was a small raised wooden bed in the corner. The cell was shut in
first by a grated gate, then a wooden door, lined with iron, with another door outside that ;
and then a kind of mattress, or large straw-pad, arranged on a slide before the outer door,
to deaden the sound from within. " Those are the best dark cells in all England," said our
guide, as he closed the many doors. " They're clean, warm, and well ventilated." There
were five such cells in a line, and each with the same apparatus outside for deadening the
sound, as we have before described.
272
THE GREAT "WORLD OE LONDON.
" That's one of the women under punishment who's singing now," said the matron, as
we stood still to listen. " They generally sing. Oh ! that's nothing—that's very quiet for them.
Their language to the minister is sometimes so horrible, that I am obliged to run away with
disgust."
" Some that we've had," went on the matron, " have torn up their beds. They make up
songs themselves all about the officers of the prison. Oh ! they'll have every one in their
verses—the directors, the governor, and all of us." She then repeated the following dog¬
gerel from one of the prison songs :—' " If you go to Millbank, and you want to see Miss
Cosgrove, you must inquire at the round house ;—and they'll add something I can't tell you of."
We went down stairs and listened to the woman in the dark cell, who was singing
"Buffalo Gals," but we could not make out a word—we could only catch the tune.
In F ward is the padded cell. " We've not had a woman in here for many months,"
said the matron, as we entered the place. The apartment was about six feet high ; a
wainscot of mattresses was ranged all round the walls, and large beds were placed on the
ground in one comer, and were big enough to cover the whole cell. " This is for persons
subject to fits," says the'matron; "but very few suffer from them."
The matron now led us into a double cell, containing an iron bed and tressel. Here the
windows were all broken, and many of the sashes shattered as well. This had been done
by one of the women with a tin pot, we were informed.
" "What is this. Miss Cosgrove ?" asked the warder, pointing to a bundle of sticks like
firewood in the comer.
" Oh, that's the remains of her table ! And if we hadn't come in time, she would have
broken up her bedstead as well, I dare say."
We now reached the school-room, where we foimd four women, with a lady in black
teaching them. " They get on very well while in separate confinement," says the teacher
to us, "but rather slowly when in association."
" Thafs where we weigh the women when they come in," said the matron, as we passed
along. " The men axe not weighed ; it has been discontinued since Major Groves'time.
We find some go out the same weight, but very often they are heavier than when they came
in, and we seldom find that they have lost fiesh."
We next entered C ward, on the middle fioor. Here we noted some good-looking
women; though the convicts are not generally remarkable for good looks, being often
coarse-featured people.
" Some of our best-looking are among the worst behaved of aR the prisoners in the female
ward," says the matron.
One woman was at work picking coir, with her back tumed towards us. We looked at her
register number above the door, and read on the back of the card the name of Alice Orey.
We now reach D ward, passage No. 2 ; this is the penal ward.
Here the windows were wired inside, and had rude kinds of Venetian blinds fixed on the
outside ; the ceUs were comparatively dark, and the prisoners younger and much prettier
than any we had yet seen. Many of them smiled impudently as we passed. Here the
bedding was ranged in square bundles aU along the passage, because the prisoners had been
found to weax them for bustles.
" Those bells," points out the matron, " are to caR male officers in case of alarm."
Presently we saw, inside one of the cells we passed, a girl in a coarse canvas dress,
strapped over her claret-brown convict clothes. This dress was fastened by a belt and
straps of the same stuff, and, instead of an ordinary buckle, it was held tight by means
of a key acting on a screw attached to the back. The girl had been tearing her clothes,
and the coarse canvas dress was put on to prevent her repeating the act.
" These two girls are reformed since I brought them over from Brixton," says the
warder to us. " Those three also are quite reformed ; it's nine months since I brought them
MILLBAJÍK PEISON.
273
over. They're well-conducted now, or they wouldn't be together." The girl in the canvas
dress was now heard laughing as we passed down the ward.
The matron had a canvas dress brought out for our inspection ; and while we were
examining it a noise of singing was heard once more, whereupon the warder informed us
that it proceeded from the lady in the dark cell, who was getting up a key or two higher.
The canvas dress we found to he like a coarse sack, with sleeves, and straps at the waist—
the latter made to fasten, as we have said before, with small screws. "With it we were
shown the prison strait-waistcoat, which consisted of a canvas jacket, with black leathern
sleeves, like boots closed at the end, and with straps up the arm.
The canvas dress has sometimes been cut up by the women with bits of broken glass.
Formerly the women used to break the glass window in the penal ward, by taking the bones
out of their stays and pushing them through the vmes in front."
" Oh, yes, they'd sooner lose their lives than their hair !" said the warder, in answer to
our question as to whether the females were cropped upon entering the prison. "We do
not allow them to send locks of the hair cut off to their sweethearts ; locks, however, are
generally sent to their children, or sisters, or mother, or father, and leave is given to them to
do as much ; they are allowed, too, to have a lock sent in return, and to keep it with their
letters. All books sent here by the prisoners' friends, if passed by the chaplain, the con¬
victs are permitted to retain."
" The locks of hair sent out," adds the officer, " must be stitched to the letters, so as not
to come off in the offices."
Our conversation, as we stood at the gate, about to take our departure, was broken off
by the cries of "You're a liar! " from one of the females in the cells of the neighbouring
wards ; whereupon the amiable young matron, scarcely staying to wish us good mnmiug,
hastened back to the prison.*
* As regards the ages, sentences, and education of the male convicts at Millhank prison, the foUo'wing
are the official returns for 1854 ;—
ADULTS. JUVENILES.
■dffes. Affes.
17 years and under 21 . . . — ~ " " "
21 „ „ 30 . . .
Total under 30 years
30 years and upwards
Sentences.
For 3 years
» 4
„ 5
" 7
» •
» 8
^
„ 10
» 14
„ 15
„ 20
„ 21
„ Life
383
453
836
455
1,291
1
745
44
166
92
27
1
97
35
45
8
2
1,291
Edmatvm.
Neither read nor write .... 233
Can read only 216
Both imperfectly ..... 720
Both well 122
1,291
Under 12 years
12 years and under 14
14 „ „ 17
For 4 years
» 5 „
» 8 »
» 7 „
j> 8 „
» 18 11
»14 „
11 15 „
11 21 ,,
Life
6
22
195
222
168
3
26
8
1
4
2
6
3
1
222
Editcation.
Neither read nor write .... 68
Can read only 42
Both imperfectly 108
Both wdl 4
222
274
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
§l-b.
THE CORRECTIONAL PRISONS OF LONDON.
" There is a species of prison," according to Stephens's BUchtone, " which does not fall
under the sheriff's charge like the common jail, hut is governed by a keeper wholly inde¬
pendent of that officer. It is termed, by way of distinction from the common jail," he adds,
"a House of Correction, or (in the City of London) a Bridewell."
The Correctional Prisons of the Metropolis are essentially distinct from those of which
we have lately been treating, as well as the jail. Their main points of difference from the
convict prisons may be enumerated as follows :—
1. The Convict Prisons are for criminals who have been sentenced either to penal servi¬
tude or transportation.
The Correctional Prisons, on the other hand, are for criminals sentenced to short terms
of imprisonment, usually extending from seven days up to two or three years.
2. The Convict Prisons are Government institutions, under the management of Her
Majesty's Directors of Prisons, and supported by payments out of the "civil Hst."
The Correctional Prisons, however, are county institutions under the management of
the magistrates of the shire, and supported by payments out of the county rates.
3. At the Convict Prisons, criminals are put to labour partly with the view of making
them contribute, more or less, to their own support, and partly with the design
of keeping them occupied at some industrial pursuit.
At the Correctional Prisons, on the contrary, the criminals are condemned to labour,
not with any view to profit but simply as a punishment ; and for this purpose
such prisons are generally fitted with an apparatus designed to carry out the
sentence of hard labour by rendering the work as irksome as possible.
The history of these houses of correction explains to us the reason why such institutions
were originally made places of hard labour. " Houses of correction," says an eminent legal
authority, "were first established, as it wo\ild seemj in the reign of EKzabeth, and were origi¬
nally designed for the penal confinement, after conviction, of paupers refusing to work, and other
persons falling under the legal description of vagrant."—Stephens' Blackstone, vol. iii., p. 209.
The Committee of the House of Commons, appointed in the year 1597 to determine the
best means of decreasing the mendicancy so prevalent at that period, came to the conclusion
that, while it was necessary to provide means for relieving the deserving poor, it was also
requisite to institute measures for the punishment of the dissolute. They therefore prepared
the statute 39 Eliz. c. 3, which organized the machinery for the relief of the poor by recom¬
mending steps to be taken for encouraging the building of " hospitals or abiding and working
houses" for the indigent; and, at the same time, introduced an enactment for the suppression
of fraudulent vagrancy by establishing houses of correction, fitted with stocks and materials
for the compulsory employment of such as objected to work ; so that, while granting assist¬
ance to the industrious, they enacted severe penalties against the idle.
Houses of Correction, therefore, were originally foimded to carry out a discipline that the
legislators of the period believed would correct the indisposition to labour on the part of
rogues and vagabonds. They were, in fact, designed as penal institutions, in which the
sturdy beggar's aversion to work was to be taken advantage of, and tiie very toil that
he was endeavouring to fly from used as the means of severe punishment to him. But
though the committee which originated these measures contained some of the most eminent
statesmen of the time, it surely does not require much sagacity now-a-days to perceive that
the principle upon which it acted was about as irrational as if a parent, as we have before
said, with the view of curing his child's aversion to medicine, were to inflict upon it a six
months' course of jalap. Such a mode of treatment, it is manifest, so far from correcting an
COKRECTIOÎTAL PKISONS.
275
antipathy, could only serve to strengthen it ; and even so the rogue, hating labour, can hardly
be made to like it by having it rendered more than ordinarily repulsive to him.
"Well, I always thought labouring for one's living was deuced impleasant!" exclaims the
confirmed rogue to himself, on leaving the House of Correction, "and now, after the dose I've
just had, I'm eominced of it. Catch me ever doing a stroke of work again, if I can help it !"
One would almost fancy that the common sense of the country would long ago have seen
that, instead of such institutions serving to correct an indisposition to labour, they really and
truly tend mainly to foster and confirm it. Eut, no 1 to the present century belongs rather
the high philosophic honour of having contrived an apparatas like the tread-wheel, which
combines the double moral absurdity of rendering prison labour not only more than usually
irksome, but also more than usually profitless. If our forefathers were foolish enough
to expect to cure idleness by rendering work a punishment (instead of endeavouring by
industrial training to make it a pleasure), it remained for the sages of our ovm time to
seek to impress lazy men with a sense of the beauty and value of industry, by the
invention of an instrument which is especially adapted to render labour inordinately
repulsive, by making it inordinately useless. " I am a man who don't like work," candidly
said an habitual vagabond to the late governor of Coldhath Pields prison ; " and, what's more
(with an oath), I will not work except when I'm in prison, and then I can't help it !"
Houses of correction, we are told, were at fi/rst used only for the penal confinement of
vagrants ; for " in other cases," says Stephens, " the common jaü was (generally speaking)
the only legal place of commitment." In the reign, however, of George I. (a.d. 1714—27),
"vagrants and others charged with small offences" were, for the first time, allowed to be com¬
mitted to houses of correction before conviction ; whilst by the 4th George IV., c. 64, s. 7,
houses of correction were made the only legal places of commitment for vagrants. Moreover,
in 1836, by the 5th and 6th "William lY., c. 38, s. 3 and 4, it was enacted that a justice of
the peace or coroner might commit to any house of correction near where the assizes or sessions
were to be held ; and that offenders sentenced in those courts to imprisonment, transportation,
or even death, might be sent to any house of correction for the county.
Hence it would appear that all classes of prisoners may now be committed firom the
assizes or sessions to undergo their punishment (no matter what the sentence) at the county
house of correction. Those prisoners, however, who are sentenced to tramportation or penal
servitude are transferred to the government "convict prisons," and thus the inmates of the
correctional prisons are strictly limited to " short-sentence men," i.e., to such men as have
been condemned to a less term of imprisonment than either transportation or penal servitude.
With regard, also, to the prisoners committed by the justice of the peace or coroner before
conviction, the house of detention has been instituted specially for their reception ; so that
the house of correction has, in the course of years, gradually become extended on the one
hand, and limited on the other, to all classes of prisoners after conviction, undergoing a
less sentence than transportation or penal servitude.*
The correctional prisons of the metropolis are four in number—two belonging to the
county of Middlesex, one to Surrey, and another to the City of London, viz. :—
I. Middlesex Houses oe Coeeection—
1. Coldhath Fields Prison (for adult males).
2. TothiH Fields Prison (for females and juvenile offenders).
II. CiTT House of Coebection—
HoUoway Prison (for all classes of offenders).
• " Prisoners," says one of the Middlesex Magistrates, to whom we are indebted for much information,
in a letter to us, "may be committed to Coldbath Fields or Tothill Fields prison, for certain offences, for
any term, and the visiting justices mmt receive them; but it is not mual to commit prisoners to such prisons
for terms exceeding two years. A limited number of transports and penal service men,'' adds the writer, "are
sent to such prisons, but are removed as soon as room is found in the government prisons."
276
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDOH.
III. SüEHET House op Coeeection—
Wandsworth Prison (for all classes).
As regards the number of prisoners passing through these institutions in the course of
the year, they would appear to amount altogether to no less than 21,860 odd individuals,
and to yield collectively an average daily congregation of about 3,000, while their united
expense to the householders of the counties is upwards of £60,000 per annum.
The classes of prisoners confined within these establishments differ, in many respects, from
those found at the London convict prisons. At the latter institutions we meet principally
with two distinct kinds of offenders, viz., the long-sentence men, who, in most instances,
were once reputable people, and are suffering for their first ofience ; and the habitual
criminal, who, after having gone the round of the correctional prisons for a series of petty
larcenies, has at length been condemned either to seven years' transportation, or the more
modem four years' penal servitude. In the correctional prisons, however, there are three
distinct kinds of offenders. (1.) Felons, i.e., those who have been convicted of some offence
to which is attached the forfeitiire of aE property belonging to the offender. (2.) Misde¬
meanants, or those imprisoned for offences of a lower degree than felony. (3.) Vagrants, or
those who have been committed either as rogues and vagabonds or reputed thieves.
The localities of the several houses of correction, as well as the distribution of the other
kinds of prisons throughout the Metropolis, wül be best explained by the following map :—
jyOLeowat
pt.eKT»;
I.
r^)| STATE PRUOK».
1. Tower.
2. Houm of CMnmom*
II.
Dkbtokb'
PUBONB.
8. Queen's Bench.
4. Horsemonger Lane (Sur-
5. Wbltecross Street (X<m-
atu' Middleux).
III.
OC
CONVICíT
PniBOMB.
6. PentonvUle (Gowns.
metti).
7. Millbank iditto),
è. Eriston
9. Hulks (diUo).
□
IV.
CORRRCTIOKAL
P&IBORB.
10 Coldhnth Fields (Mid-
dleê€T).
11. Tothlll Fields iditto),
I HoHowoy (City).
IB. Uanriaworlh ffiwrrrol.
A
V.
Detontional
PniBONB.
14. Horsemonger Lane
r«}/).
15 House of Detention.
iMùkilosejt).
IS Newirate < CMtu).
HOUSE GE COEKECTIOH, COLUBATH EIELDS.
277
GATEWAY OF THE HOUSE OF COKUECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
If i-
THE MIDBLESEX HOUSE OF COEREGTION, CÖLBEATH FIELBS,
(FOR ADULT MALE OFFENDERS).
On a dull summer's morning, wten the sky was lead-coloured with an impending storm,
and the air was hot as though the thick roof of clouds impeded the ventilation of the City,
we left our home to make our visit to this prison. A slight shower had fallen, spotting the
pavement with large, round drops.
The cocks shut up in the cellars of the green-grocers' and harhers' shops, situated in the
streets through which we passed, were crowing as if the light that shone down the iron
gratings into the dusty are^, beneath had aroused them, and they were screeching to he
released from their confinement. Over a seedman's shop a lark, whose cage faced the east,
was welcoming the streak of early dawn with jerks of melody, whilst the little creature
stood fluttering on the small piece of turf placed in the bow of its cage. At one of the
cheap hair-dressers, too, where a long pole stretched above the pathway like a bowsprit,
we could hear the almost screaming din of birds, all singing at the same time—the sound
seeming to pour out from the round holes in the shutter tops in positive gusts of noise.
The whole Metropolis was as yet asleep.
The dull morning appeared to have made the inhabitants stop in their beds longer thau
usual ; for, as we gazed down the now clear perspective of the different streets, we could
see but few persons about. The only chimneys that were sending out their smoke were
those at the bakers, hut even here the curling streams of soot were gradually diminishing
in blackness, as though the night's work was over and the fires dying out. As we hurried
along, the town put on a different aspect in the bright, early light ; the trees of the squares
278
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
and gardens, and flowers in the balconies, as well as the countless windows, sparkled again,
as the black clouds changed into white ones, edged with, the many tints of the morning's
sun, the panes 'at length being lighted up by the golden beams, tUl they shone like plates
of burnished metal.
As we gazed around, a newspaper express cart dashed past, taking the direction of the
Euston Square Railway. Policemen, with their capes rolled up like black quivers under
their arms, were making their way to the difiierent police stations. On one of the door¬
steps in Gower Street was seated a milk-maid, with the bright drum-shaped cans before
her, waiting until the servant-maid rose to take in the customary " ha'porth."
Then the butchers' carts came rattling past, the wheels trembling as they spun over the
stones; and the horse, with freshly-greased hoofs, going at a pace which, as the animal
turned the comer, threw the vehicle round sideways, and almost jerked the driver fi:om one
end of the seat to the other.
Near to the Foundling we noted, down the stable-yards, a quantity,of Hansom cabs
ranged in rows, and still dirty with the night's work ; and then, a few paces after crossing
the Gray's Inn Road, we caught sight of the dull brick wall that encircles the House of
Correction, and in a minute or two more had reached our destination.
As few persons in easy worldly circumstances care to reside in the neighbourhood of a
prison, it may account for the dingy and distressed appearance of the Tbuildings that surrormd
the jail in Coldbath Fields. The red brick dwellings facing the main entrance have all
the appearance of having been at one time " capital town mansions," but the daily sight
of the prison van driving up, and the dreary look-out from the front windows upon the
tall boundary wall and heavily-spiked roofs, has degraded the dwellings down to the rank
of old fiimiture stores, or lodging-houses for single men, who care not where they obtain
house-shelter provided the rent be low. Some of the houses hereabouts are sufficiently
antiquated—as, for instance, those in Baynes Row—with the words cut in quaint, long
spider letters, in the red brick tablet between the drawing-room windows. Again, in Cob-
ham Row, the heavy white sashes to the casements, the curious iron-work, and the peculiar
style of brick-work, strongly indicate the old-fashioned character of the buildings.
Clerkenwell is notoriously the hardest-working quarter of London ; and as soon as the
immediate vicinity of the prison is passed, the industry begins to show itself. In Dorrington
Street, a small colony of brass-founders have established themselves, and the grocers' canis¬
ter-makers have also permanently settled on the spot.
Turning down Phoenix Place, we see the yards converted into saw-mills, and jets of
steam bursting out from the midst of tiled sheds; and we hear, too, the grating, hissing
sound of the machinery. One board, over the door of a dingy cottage, tells us that the
inmates are "Fancy Brush-board Makers;" and on a closed-up door, the deep-bordered
posters of a cheap undertaker caters for patronage for his " Genteel Funerals," at £1 1«.
At the back, or northern side of the prison wall, lie the enormous yards of Mr. Cubitt,
the contractor—some of ihem filled with paving and flag-stones—others bristling with scaffold
poles and tapering ladders—and some again occupied by sheds, imder and about which are
rusting cog-wheels and old machinery, or stone balustrades and pieces of broken sculpture.
Here, too, in the waste impaved ground ahout the walls, the boys have established their
play-ground, and amuse themselves with pitch-in-the-hole, tossing for buttons, and games at
marbles, or else they perform their gymnastic exercises on the thick rails and posts, placed
across the broad rude pathway to obstruct the passage of cabs and cattle.
Whether the jail has ruined the neighbourhood or not, we cannot say, but the surrounding
locality wears a degraded look, as if it also had put on the prison uniform of dirty gray.
We had risen so early, that we reached our destination before the , official hour for
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
279
opening the gates, the warders not being admitted until half-past six, when the night watch
is relieved, and the business of the day begins.
One of the main features of the Coldbath Fields prison is the tail brick wall, which
surrounds the entire of the nine acres upon which the building stands, and gives to the place
the idea of a strong fortress. To the foot-passenger, this high waR hides out every view
of the enclosed buRdings, and, but for a heR heard now and then ringing within, he
might almost imagine the interior to be a burial-ground. It is only at the moment of
turning the comer of Phoenix Place, and entering into Dorrington Street, that the first
evidence is obtained of the spot being inhabited ; for there, at rapidly-recurring intervals,
may he seen a black beam darting by, close to the coping-stone of the brick-work, the
mystery of which none can fathom but those who have visited the interior of the prison,
it being the wings of the fan, or governing machine, which regulates the rapidity of the
tread-wheel.
On one side of the pubRc road, passing along the front of the prison, is an unoccu¬
pied piece of ground, about half an acre in extent, which fronts the remaining portion
of the waR ; here the grass has grown so luxuriantly that it may almost be termed a field,
especiaRy as half a dozen sheep are feeding, within the palings, on the long herbage.
Looking out upon this grass-plot may be seen the back of the governor's house, a narrow,
two-storeyed dwelling, of an ancient style of structure, with heavy iron gratings before each
window, which are closed on the basement story, but are thrown back like French blinds at
the upper casements.
The huge prison doorway itself has a curious George the Third air about it, with its
inscription of black letters cut into the painted stone, telling one that it is
The house of
CORRECTION
foe the
COUNTY of MIDDLESEX
1794
—the writing being similar to that which is seen in old books, and by no means comparable
to the weR-shaped characters on the sign-hoards at the neighbouring pubRc-house. A pair of
gigantic knockers, large as pantomime masks, hang low down on the dark-green panels of the
folding gates, and under them are the letter-box and the iron-grated wicket, not larger than a
gridiron ; whilst, arranged in tassels at the top of each side piRar, are enormous black fetters,
big enough to frighten any sinful passer-by back into the paths of rectitude. A chevaux
de frise, like some giant hrmdred-bladed penknife, is placed on either side of the doorway,
where it towers above the waR, and within reading height are placed black boards, with
notices painted white upon them. From these we learn where "Information respecting
the Terms of Imprisonment, and the Fines to he pa/id, may he obtained,^' and are also told that
" No provisions, clothing, or other articles for the vise of the prisoners f wiR be permitted to pass
the gates ; whüst, in another place, the regulations respecting the visits to the prisoners are
exposed to view. The county of Middlesex, as if to show its right of ownership, has also
placed its crest immediately above the green-painted doors, and the three sabres hang
threateningly over the heads of aR who enter. This and the large gas-lamp jutting out from
the waR form the only ornaments to this pecuRarly quaint old prison-entrance. (Bee
Engraning, p. 277.)
Before conducting the reader within the waRs of the prison, let us set forth, as briefly as
possible, the " antecedents," as weR as the character of the buRding.
20-
280
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOKDOH.
1Í i—a.
The Sktory mi Construction of the Prison.
The term Coldbath Fields, which now stands for a portion of the district lying between
Clerkenwell and Pentonville, is said to have been derived from a celebrated well of water
that was formerly situate in the fields hereabouts, but which is now covered over, the site
being at present occupied by the tread-wheel of the prison.
The original House of Correction, Mr. Hepworth Dixon tells us, was built in the reign
of the first James. " The increase of vagabondage," he says, " had become so great about
that time, that the City Bridewell no longer served to contain the number of ofienders j the
judges therefore built this prison, the City authorities giving £500 towards it, for keeping
their poor employed."
The oldest portion, however, of the present prison (which stands between the Church of
St. James's, Clerkenwell, and the Gray's Inn Road) dates only from the end of the last
century.
"The House of Correction, at Coldbath Fields," says Mr. Chesterton, the late governor
of the prison, in his entertaining new work, entitled "Revelations op Peison Lipe,"
" was erected in the year 1794. Its site at that epoch well entitled it to the third term
in its designation, which it has ever since retained ; but the magistrates of that day missed
an opportunity of purchasing and enclosing, at a comparatively small cost, a much larger
tract of land ; so that the prison is now overlooked from buildings abutting upon it—an
inconvenience which might have been obviated by timely foresight."
The prison covers a space of nine acres, and " the grmmd," Mr. Chesterton informs us,
" which was purchased for the purpose by the coimty magistrates, cost £4,350. The
original building was constructed at an outlay of £65,656. Comformably with the notions
of that period, the building was massive, overloaded with ponderous iron gates, window-
frames, and fastenings ; while narrow entrances and passages were designed to render a
sudden outburst of prisoners impracticable.
" Certain it is," adds the late governor, " that the large outlay of £65,656, at that
distant period, merely to produce a structure containing 232 ceUs, the precise number
erected, does appear to be a prodigal expenditure, and quite disproportioned to the accommo¬
dation secured."*
Large additions, however, have been made from time to time, since the date of its
original construction. In the year 1832, the unlooked-for increase of numbers had, in the
words of the late governor, " necessitated a corresponding extension of the buildings, and
soon after the completion (in 1830) of a 'vagrants' ward,' calculated to accommodate 150
prisoners, there was added a ' female ward' (now the misdemeanants' prison), designed to
contain 300. These buildings were erected on a radiating system, but they were designed
ere the new lights on prison structure, derived from the United States of America, had
penetrated into this kingdom. Consequently our new buildings were very defective, and
much expense was subsequently incurred to amend and enlarge them."
There are at present two houses of correction for the county of Middlesex—one at Cold¬
bath Fields, which is devoted to the reception of such aiult male prisoners as have not been
sentenced to transportation or penal servitude ; and the other at Tothül Fields, appropriated
to the female md juvenile portion of the same class.
• Pentonville prison, built in 1840-42, and fitted with 130 cells, cost £85,000. Brixton prison, built
in 1819-20, and fitted with 161 cells, cost (including the purchase of the land) £51,780 ; and Millbank
prison, built in 1812, and fitted with 550 cells, cost £500,000, exclusive of land.
HOUSE GE COEEECTIOH, COLDBATH FIELDS.
281
Coldbath Fields prison has now proper accommodation for about 1,450 prisoners* (919
in separate cells, and 534 in cells capable of containing more than one prisoner), though
many more are sometimes thrust into it, causing great confusion of system. The daily
average number of prisoners throughout the year 1854-55 was 1,388. Mr. Chesterton
tells us that "the prison of Coldbath Fields is one of such surpassing magnitude as to
have numbered within its walls, during the year 1854, at one time, no less than 1,495
inmates."f
The prison is in the jurisdiction of fourteen magistrates, appointed at each Quarter
Sessions, of whom four go out quarterly by rotation.
The official staff for the management of Coldbath Fields House of Correction consists of
the governor, 2 chaplains, 1 surgeon, 1 chief warder, 34 warders, 66 sub-warders, 4 clerks,
1 engineer, and 1 store-keeper; in all, 112 officers. Hence, as there are altogether 100
warders, and the daily average number of prisoners throughout the year 1854 amounted
• The following return as to the accommodation afforded has been kindly supplied us by the present
governor
NUMBER OF BERTHS AND CELLS CONTAINED IN COLDBATH FIELDS PRISON:—
OLD FRISOK.
Tards.
First and second .
Third and fourth .
Fifth and sixth . .
Seventh and eighth
Lower gallery . .
Upper gallery . .
Befractory . . .
Berths in f,,,
Dormitories.
99
101
99
98
66
71
76
72
29
29
14
397 357
Cells and Berths . . 754
MISDEUIANOVn PRISON.
Yards. Cells.
First 87
Second 96
Third ICQ
Fourth 96
Refractory 7
386
Old Prison
Misdemeanour Piisoa
Vagrant Prison
Berths in the Dormitories
VASRANT PRISON.
Yards. Cells.
First and second .... 88
Third and fourth .... 87
Refractory - 2
177
. 357
. 386
. 177
920
, 397
1,317
t NUMBER OP MALE PRISONERS CONFINED IN THE HOUSE OP CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS, IN THE
COURSE OF THE YEAR 1854.
In custoây at the commence¬
ment of the year.
Prisoners for trial. . —
Convicted at assizes and
sessions . . .871
Convicts under contract
with Government . —
Summary convictions . 563
For re-examination . —
1,437
2.
Received under commitmente^
and who have not been in
custody of other Oovemors.
Prisoners for trial. . —
Prisoners transferred to
other Governors for
trial .... —
Rendered in court for
trial .... —
Summary convictions . 6,123
Ditto transferred to
other Governors . —
6,123
Received from the custody of
other Governors, and
enumerated in their returns.
Prisoners for trial. . —
Convicted at assizes and
sessions . . .1,620
Convicts under contract
with Government . —
Summary convictions . —
7,743
Total in the course of the year .....
Greatest number of Prisoners at any one time in the course of the year
The daily average number of Prisoners throughout the year
4.
Charges, i.e., prisoners com¬
mitted to the prison for ex¬
amination, but afterwards
discharged, not being fully
committed.
9,180
1,495
1,388
233
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
to 1,388, wo find that there is one such ofScer to about evray 1'3 persons confined within
the walls.*
The discipline enforced at this prison is that which is termed the "silent associated system,"
the prisoners working in bodies by day, and being forbidden to hold any communication with
each other, either by word or gesture ; whilst many of them—some 920—sleep in separate
cells at night. " If the system on which the prison is ostensibly conducted," says an author
before quoted, "were rigorously carried out, all the prisoners would be separated at night;
but the number of separate cells is insufficient. The surplus is, therefore, to be provided for
in general dormitories, in which officers are obliged to remain all night, to prevent inter¬
course or disorder."
Coldbath Fields is one of those prisons at which labour is used as a punishment, rather
than a means of industrial training or of self-support among the prisoners themselves—the
criminals sent here being often condemned to " hard labour," in addition to a certain term
of imprisonment. These hard-labour sentences are worked out either upon the tread-wheel,
or else in picking oakum or coir, unless the services of the prisoner be required for some
work in connection -with the jail. For the due carrying out of the hard-labour sentence,
there are at Coldbath Fields no less than six distinct tread-wheel yards, and two of these
have each four separate wheels working on one long axis, whilst the four remaining yards
have each three wheels fixed upon one axle.
This prison bears the reputation of being one of t^e most salubrious in all London.
" The ample space, the full supply of light and air afforded to the prisoners, as weE as the
general system of the prison," says Mr. Dixon, " causes Coldbath Fields to be one of the
healthiest places of confinement in the Metropolis. Though it has an average of from 1,200
to 1,400 occupants the year roimd, more than three or four persons are seldom found in the
infirmary at once—a state of the health-calendar very different from that of Kewgate or
Millbank, or even that of PentonviUe."
Indeed it wül be seen, by the returns before given (p. 239), that Coldbath Fields is not
only considerably healthier than either Millbank or PentonviUe, but the proportion of sick
(22*3 per cent.) to the gross number of prisoners confined within it throughout the year is
even 1 per cent, lower than that of Brixton.f
" The House of Correction at Coldbath Fields," says the author of "London Prisons,"
" has the thorough aspect of the old English jaU."
The prison is surrounded by a high wall, varying from eighteen to twenty-three feet,
and the prison buUdings are in three distinct divisions :—
1. The principal, or old building, erected in 1794.
2. The new vagrants' ward, completed in 1830.
3. The female prison, now " the misdemeanants' ward," completed in 1832.
The old or " main" prison stands at a little distance behind the principal entrance, and
is of a quadrangiUar form (with two wings attached), divided by a central passage, which is
intersected at right angles by the various " yards"—^four on either side of the passage, and
• At PentonviUe there are 30 warders to a daily average of 519 prisoners, which is in proportion of 1
oificer to about every 17 inmates of the jail. At Millbank, on the other hand, there are 101 warders to
a daily average of 702 male prisoners, which is almost at the rate of 1 officer to every 7 men.
t In the course of the year 1854-56 there were at Coldbath Fields altogether 131 infirmary cases, and
1,916 cases of slight indisposition, making altogether 2,047 cases of sickness in the course of that year ; and
as the gross number of prisoners confined within the jail daring the same year amounted to 9,180, this gives
a proportion of 22'3 cases of sickness to every one hundred prisoners. The per centage of pardons on medical
grounds to the daily average number of prisoners at the same prison was I'O, whilst the per centage of
deaths to the daily average number of prisoners was 1'3, which, it will be seen by reference to the previous
table (see p. 239), is still considerably lower than at either the Hulks or Millbank, but, on the other hand,
higher than either PentonviUe or Brixton.
HOUSE OÍ CÓEEECTIOH, COEHBATH FIELDS.
283
eacL having the cells ranged along one side, and with the tread-wheels, in some cases, facing
them.
The vagrants' ward is on the left of the main entrance, and consists of five radiating
wings, proceeding from a semi-circular building, upon the half-wheel principle ; and these
five wings, with the four intermediate airing courts, constitute four "yards" or divisions.
GROOND-PLAN OF OOLDBATH FIELDS PRISON.
(Refereneés to the Letters and Numbers in the Engraving.)
K. ^shler's OflBce. Û. Plumber's Shop. X. Clothing Room. 7. Refractory Cells.
L. ^rder'B Lodge and K. Governor's Report Y. Store Rooms. 8. Slate w ashlns-boxM
... Offices. Z. Laundry. 9. Water Closets
M, Coneh'house and Sta- S. Mat Room. 1. Gardener's Room. 10. Van sheds
_T , T. School Room. 2. Lampman's Room. 11. Coal Shed.
N. Chaplains Clerks U. Oakum Room. 3. Vlsiung Places. 12.'Wuod Shed
/^ c u .. . « V. Cook's House & Ijirder. 4. Tread-wheels. 13. Di-esser shed.
O. Sub-Warder 8 Rooms. W. Reception Roolu and Ô. Dead-house. 14. Oakum Sh(>(t
P. Engineer's Stoies. Yard. 6. Lime Shed. 15. Dust & Rubbish Heap.
The misdemeanants' ward, formerly appropriated to the female prisoners, stands at a little
distance from the north-eastern comer of the old prison, and constitutes a distiuct building,
but does not differ much in its plan from the vagrants' ward.
There are two chapels, one for males and the other formerly for females, in which there
is service every morning.
A. Entrance Gate.
R. Governor's House.
C. Gate Warder's House.
T>. Engineer's Office,
E. Blacksmith's Shop.
F. Cocoa Mill and 8bed.'
G. Governor's House.
H. Gate Warder's Lod^e
J. Clerk's Office.
284
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
Tho main or old prison is principally devoted to the reception of felons, whilst the
vagrant ward is set aside for those committed as rogues or vagabonds, including reputed
thieves; and that which was formerly the female ward is now appropriated to persons convicted
of misdemeanours. At the date (18th October, 1865,) of the last report of the visiting justices,
the gross number in custody was 1,325 adult males ; and these were composed of the following
classes in the following proportion, viz. :—
Number. Fer Cent.
Felons 697 = 52-6
Misdemeanants 496 = 87-5
Vagrants 132 = 9'9
Total . 1,325 == 100-0
In the same report the prison is said to be capable of containing 919 prisoners in
separate sleeping cells, and 534 where more than one prisoner sleeps in one cell. Rooms
and workshops, not intended as sleeping apartments for prisoners, are used, we are told, as
dormitories when a greater extent of accommodation is required.*
*#* Sisfory of the Discipline of CoUiath Fields Prison.—From the history, construction,
and present capacity of the building itself, we pass to the history of that system of manage¬
ment which preceded and led to the one at present in force.
It has been our object to chronicle the origin of the discipline pursued at the various penal
institutions of which we have already treated. We have traced the commencement and modi¬
fications of the separate system, as carried out at Pentonville Prison—^we have given a brief
account of the establishment of the Female Convict Prison at Brixton—^we have endeavoured
to impress the reader with a sense of the utter want of system, and indeed decency, in the
management of the Hulks in former times, as well as to give bim a notion of the defective
arrangements at present existing in those places—yre have sought, moreover, to show him how
Bentham's crude scheme for a Panopticon merged into the old Penitentiary, where criminals
were trained in hypocrisy, and the warders were converted into " Scripture readers," while
the governor himself was a gentleman in orders—as well as how this same penitential system
was ultimately converted into the present " mixed system" of penal discipline ; and now we
proceed, in due order, to explain how the promiscuons association of the prisoners at Coldbath
Fields, as well as the iniquities practised by the warders there, and even the governors them¬
selves, at length gave way to the more righteous sentiments of the age, and finally settled into
" the silent associated system," of which that prison is not only now regarded as the type,
but the metropolitan originator.
Luckily for the proper execution of this portion of our task, we have the best possible
materials supplied us in the recently-published "Revelations of Prison Life," by Mr.
Chesterton, the late governor of the jaü in question, and the gentleman to whom the public,
• GBNEBAI. WEKKLT BEPOBT, FHOM HIIDAT, 20TH JONE, 1860.
Prisoners.
Prisoners,
Prisoners.
Number in custody last
Infirmary Patients .
2
Foreigners in prison, viz. :
week .... 1,393
Conyalescent Patients
29
Germans . . 8
. . .
Number of Irish in prison
100
Poles . . . 1
Number unlocked this
Foreigners in prison .
38
Portuguese . . 2
morning . . . 1,376
vis: Americans .
2
Spaniards . . 3
Swedes. .
2
Italians . . 7
Admitted during tbe week. 134
Danes .
—
Greeks . . —
Discharged during the week 162
Russians . .
1
Mussulmans . —
Died during the same week —
Dutch . . .
6
Africans . . 1
Increase . . . . —
Belgians . .
1
Hindoos . . —
Decrease .... 18
French
4
West Indians . 1
HOUSE CE COERECTIOH, COLDBÁTH FIELDS.
■285
as well as the prisoners themselves, are indebted for the correction of abuses that were a
scandal to our country, and who was the first to introduce into it that system of non-intercourse
among prisoners, which, at least, if it works no positive change in the criminal character,
must be acknowledged to prevent effectually that extended education in crime which arose
formerly from the indiscriminate communion of the inmates of our jails.
This gentleman we have long known in private life, and known only to esteem for the
kindness of his heart and the soundness of his views, as well as the fine integrity of his
principles—^points, indeed, of which his recent volumes afford many happy illustrations.
Mr. Chesterton, speaking of the prisons of the early part of the present century, says—
" Cleanliness scarcely seemed to be a necessary requirement ; all care to insure the space indis¬
pensable to common decency was deemed superfiuous, and shameless profligacy mblushingly
prevailed. The lowest order of men only aspired to dispense the functions of a jail, while
the common allusion to 'jail fevers,' attested the foul contagion inseparable firom the foetid
hold of the vicious outcast.
"At that period, there did not exist a more neglected or outraged class than the
criminals in our numerous jaüs. The philanthropy of the great Howard appeared to have
become extinct, and to have died with him ; while the after exertions of Sir George Paul
were circumscribed, and seemed to produce no lasting effect. As far as the coimty of
Middlesex was concerned, no care whatever was bestowed upon the prisons, and conse¬
quently vicious administrators were left to perpetrate their corrupt devices."
It was the custom in those days, he tells us, for country justices to administer their
functions in their own houses, and many so unblushingly received fees, that their residences
were known by the by-word of "justice-shops." A magisterial Mend of his named
one justice then living, who had been distinguished by such discreditable traffic ; and in
dilating upon the prevailing corruption of the period, Mr. Chesterton's Mend expressed his
conviction that some magistrates had pocketed gains from the funds allotted for the
erection of Coldbath Fields prison.
" The late Mr. Eobert Sibley, well known and much respected as the Middlesex sur¬
veyor, has frequently," our author adds, " described to me the scenes he witnessed when he
first became acquainted with the county. Men and women, boys and girls, were indiscri¬
minately herded together, in this chief county prison, without employment or wholesome
control ; while smoking, gaming, singing, and every species of brutalizing conversation and
demeanour tended to the unlimited advancement of crime and pollution.
" Meanwhile, the governor of that day walked about bearing m his hand a knotted rope,
and ever and anon he would seize some imlucky wight by the collar or arm, and rope's-end
him severely ; thus exhibiting a warning example of summary corporeal chastisement calcu¬
lated to overawe refractory beholders."
Sir Francis Burdett, at the early period of his career, condemned the monstrosities of
Coldbath Fields so vehemently, as to secure for that prison, says Mr. Chesterton, " the
name of the ' Bastüe.' Governor Aris (who had formerly been a baker in Clerkenwell) was
denounced, and became notorious as a reputed tyrant and torturer. He was ultimately
ejected from his office, and died in poverty. Many years subsequently to his leaving the
prison, Aris and his sons would come and importune me for assistance, and the former never
failed to aver that he was unjustly sacrificed to popular clamour.
" I do not know," continues our Mend, " that the Middlesex governor was at that epoch
a worse specimen of his craft than others of his brother functionaries throughout the country,
for all our penal establishments were such sinks of iniquity, that Aris might possibly have
been not a whit more guilty than his compeers. However, his accusers prevailed, and he
Was discarded without provision.
"During the agitation that existed upon the subject, crowds used to assemble Mthont the
walls of the prison, and the inearcerated«^fully acquainted with public ocourrences-^would
286
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
shriek and shout in order to keep alive popular sympathy, imtil stories of cruelty perpetrated
within aroused indignation and invoked redress.
" The thieves of the present day still retain in the cant name of the prison at Coldbath
Fields, a portion of the appellation which by-gone agitation had conferred upon it. As an
omnibus is familiarly styled a 'bus,' so is the word Bastile abbreviated into 'stile,' pronounced
' steel.^
" There could be no doubt whatever of the infamous management which had long dis¬
graced the jails (in those days), for I have seen a brochure of such times written expressly
to demonstrate the iniquity then prevalent within the walls of Coldbath Fields. This bro¬
chure is sufficiently intelligible as to the character of that penitentiary, and the scenes
enacted therein, to stamp the place as a focus of abomination and impurity.
" After Alis, the prison became successively entrusted to the management of Governors
Adkins and Vickery—both of them having previously been distinguished as expert police
officers ; for a notion prevailed in that day that none but police magistrates and their satel¬
lites were competent to cope with public plunderers.
" There is no earthly doubt that these privileged functionaries, the thief-taking governors,
held that their primary obligation consisted in feathering their own nests, and at the same
time enriching their subordinates. Indeed aU their arrangements seemed designed to pro¬
mote personal privileges and to amass unlimited gains."
On the 27th of July, 1829, Mr. Chesterton made his debut in the prison, and received
from the visiting justices the charge of it. He found it " a sink of abomination and pollution;
and so close was the combination amongst ite corrupt functionaries, that it was difficult
to acquire any definite notion of the wide-spread defilement that polluted every hole and
comer of the Augean stable. There was scarcely one redeeming feature in the prison
administration," he says, " but the whole machinery tended to promote shameless gains by
the furtherance of aU that was lawless and execrable.
"Each 'turnkey' had a fixed locality, and was the supervisor of a 'yard' containing
from 70 to 100 prisoners, while every yard contained a ' yardsman,' i.e., a prisoner who
could afford to bid the highest price for acting as deputy-turnkey, and, under his superior,
to trade with the prisoners at a stupendous rate of profit to his principal and to himself.
Prisoners also occupied the lucrative posts of ' nurses ' in the infirmary, while those of
'passage-men,' and other still more subordinate capacities, procurable by money, aE tended
to enrich the officers and the chosen prisoners at one and the same time.
" From one end of the prison to the other, there existed a vast illicit commerce at an
exorbitant rate of profit. The basement of aU the cells was hollowed out and made the
depositories of numerous interdicted articles. Layers of lime-white, frequently renewed,
hid beneath the surface an inlet to such hidden treasures ; and thus wine and spirits, tea and
coffee, tobacco and pipes, were unsuspectedly stowed away, and even pickles, preserves, and
fish sauce, might also be found secreted within those occult receptacles. The walls, too,
separating one cell from another, were adapted to like clandestine uses, the key to such
deposits being merely a brick or two easily dislodged by any one acquainted with the
secret.
"In vain might a magistrate penetrate into the interior of the prison, and cast his
inquisitive glances around him. Telegraphic signals would announce the presence of ,an
unwelcome visitor, and all be promptly arranged to defeat suspicion. The prisoners would
assume an aspect and demeanour at once subdued and respectful ; the doors of oells would
fly open to disclose clean basements, edged with thick layers of lime-white (deliberately
used to conceal the secrets beneath), pipes would be extinguished and safely stowed away,
the tread-wheels fully manned, and other industrial arts set in motion.
"The first question addressed to a prisoner on his arrival was, 'had he money, or any-
HOUSE OF COEEECTIOH, COLDBATH FIELDS.
287
thing convertible into money, or would any firiend supply him with money.' If the reply
were affirmative, the turnkey, or some agent of his, would convey a letter for the requisite
contribution, which became subject to the unconscionable deduction of seven or eight
shillings, out of every pound sterling transmitted, besides a couple of shillings to the
' yardsman,' and, in many instances, an additional shilling to the ' passage-man.'
J'The poor and friendless prisoner was a man wretchedly maltreated and oppressed.
Every species of degrading employment was thrust upon him, and daily inflictions rendered
his existence hardly supportable. If he presumed to complain, the most inhuman retalia¬
tion awaited him. He was called ' a nose,' and was made to run the gauntlet through a
double file of scoundrels armed with short ropes or knotted handkerchiefs.
"Here, also," adds the late governor, "I discovered another ample source'of profit to
those voracious turnkeys. The correspondence of prisoners with their friends was properly
defined by an existing regulation, but in this, as in every other particular, rules were
nugatory. If, therefore, a prisoner were too poor to pay one shilling or eighteen-pence for
a letter, either written to go out, or for one received in, such letter was invariably
destroyed. In short, there was no end to the expedients of such corrupt minds, in order to
realixe unhallowed gains.' '
Tt was not until five years after Mr. Chesterton had entered upon the arduous task of
governing and reforming such an institution, that he introduced the silent system as part of
the discipline of the prison. The following is that gentleman's version of the circumstances
which led to so important a change :—
"Mr. Crawford having concluded his report upon the prisons of the Umted States,
travelled into the Horth of England and to Scotland, and, during his excursion, visited
certain of the prisons there. He returned to London much impressed with the condition of
two, viz., that of "Wakefield in Yorkshire, and the Bridewell of Glasgow.
" At the former, the associated silent system had been recently introduced under the
auspices of a zealous magistrate, who was ably seconded by Mr. Shepherd, the governor.
"The practical eye of Mr. Crawford soon discerned the value of these improvements,
and he suggested to Mr. Hoaxe (one of the Middlesex magistrates, and the brother-in-law of
Mrs. Fry), that I should be sent down, first to Wakefield, and thence to Glasgow, to witness
these two systems in operation, and report upon the practicability of applying either to
Coldbath Fields. The suggestion was communicated to the visiting justices by Mr. Hoare,
who strongly advised its adoption; and, consequently, in the month of December, 1834, I
set off thus commissioned.
" Properly accredited to the authorities of both localities, I experienced every desirable
attention, and was allowed the facility to make the closest observations. I soon perceived
that the paucity of cells at Coldbath Fields presented an irremediable obstacle to- the
adoption of the separate system, even if that mode of discipline should be preferred, but
that some practical alterations would enable us to embrace the silent system.*
" On my return, I presented a minute report, which was laid before the court and
subsequently published in extenso in some of the daily journals. At length the requisite
authority was conceded, and all preliminary arrangements perfected ; ani on the 2^th
December, 1834, a ^opulatim o/ 914 prisoners was suddenly apprised that all intercommuni-
• " Hitherto room had been found, in order to compensate for the deficiency of cells, by sleeping three
convicts in each cell ; but under the newly-imported discipline this arrangement could no longer be tolerated.
We adopted, therefore, the expedient of enclosing in every yard the space under each set of tread-wheels,
which were erected on elevated platforms. The previous day-rooms, and every spare room throughout the
great building, were then adapted to sleeping, by the construction of berths in three tiers, as in use in the
cabins of passenger-vessels ; and opposite to these the monitor slept on an iron bedstead. A mode of inspec¬
tion from without was open to the night watchman,"—Note by Mr, Chesterton.
288
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
cation hy word, geatwe, or sign was prohibited ; and, without a murmur, or the least symptom
of oyert opposition, the silent system became the established rule of the prison.
" In the outset, it was effected by the employment of monitors, selected by their conduct
and intelligence from amongst the prisoners. That practice is now prohibited by law, and
the interdiction is undoubtedly both just and politic.
" In short, all (except the irreclaimably debased) who had watched and deplored the
system, now happily superseded, saw cause to rejoice in the change. There was at length
a real protection to morals, and it no longer became the reproach that the comparatively
innocent should be consigned to inevitable demoralization and ruin."
Another important change in the discipline in this prison occurred in the introduction of
the'tread-wheel, though this took place several years prior to the introduction of the silent
system. This apparatus, we have before said (p. 174), was first setup in Brixton prison
in 1817; and Mr. Chesterton cites the following curious anecdote as to the origin of the con¬
trivance itself :—
" It was the invention of Mr. Cubitt, the engineer of Lowestoft, in Suffolk, a gentleman
of science, of extensive professional connections, and of gentle and pleasing deportment. The
notion of such a piece of machinery owed its conception in his mind to a singular casualty.
I received the following narration from his own lips :—
"All who may be acquainted with the county jaU of Suffolk, at Bury St. Edmonds, or
rather as it was twenty years and upwards ago, must be aware of the imsightly feature then
existing (after passing through the main entrance), of mere open iron fences separating yards
occupied by prisoners from the passage trodden by incoming visitors. The inmates, in re¬
pulsive groups, were seen lounging idly about, and the whole aspect indicated a demoralizing
waste of strength and time.
" Under such dispositions, and some years before Mr. Cubitt's relation to me, that gentle¬
man was in professional communication with the magistrates at the jail of Bury, and there
he and a magistrate, the one going out, and the other entering, met in the described passage,
from which, as they stood to converse, the prisoners, as usual, were seen idly loitering about.
" ' I wish to God, Mr. Cubitt,' said the justice, 'you could suggest to us some mode of
employing those fellows ! Could nothing like a wheel become available ?' An instantaneous
idea flashed through the mind of Mr. Cubitt, who whispered to himself, ' the wheel elongated!'
and merely saying to his interrogator—' Something has struck me which may prove worthy
of farther consideration, and perhaps you may hear from me upon the subject,' he took his
leave.
" After reflection enabled Mx. Cubitt to fashion all the mechanical requirements into a
practical form ; and by such a casual incident did the tread-wheel start into existence, and soon
came into general adoption in the prisons of the country as the type of hard labour."
At first, the labour on the tread-wheel was excessive. In utter ignorance of the mischief
which such an excess of exertion produced, the authorities at Coldbath Fields apportioned
to each male individual 12,000 feet of ascent upon it per diem. That ratio, we are told,
proved seriously injurious to health, especially under the circumstances of a diet restricted
to the minimum of what was deemed adequate requirement.
" The most robust frames," adds the prison historian, " would become attenuated by it;
and a prolonged indulgence in a daily allowance of beer, increased diet, and, in many
instances, other prescribed stimulants, hardly sufficed to arrest the mischief. So debilitating
were the results of the undue amount of such dispiriting labour, that (before the erection of
military prisons) the Eoyal ArtiUery abstained from committing their offending men to
Coldbath Fields, owing to the injurious effects observable, on their return to their regiment,
from the mischievous excess of tread-wheel occupation."
The present amount of ascent is limited to 1,200 feet per diem.
HOUSE OF COßRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
289
1Í i—
Interior of the Prison.
As the hour advanced at which the gates were to he opened, the warders began to
assemble. "We could see them hurrying down the streets on all sides, and soon the road in
front of the jail was filled with a crowd of men in dark-blue uniform, each with a belt of
shining leather over one shoulder, supporting, just above the hip, a pouch, something similar
to a soldier's cartouche-box, on which was the brass number that distinguished the official.
Some of these warders had fastened on to their stand-up collars, in the same place where
a policeman's number is placed, a güt metal plate, and others a silver one, on which were
stamped the Middlesex Arms of the three sabres, this being the distinguishing mark between
the warders and the sub-warders.
Many of the men seemed but half awake. They leant against the railings, some smoking,
others chatting, until, at twenty-five minutes past six, the sudden report of a gun was
heard, making the silent air ring again, and causing a peacock in the vicinity to begin
screaming. Instantly down were dashed the pipes of the warders, and up jumped the men,
hurrying along the carriage-way to the gates, which now opened to receive them.
We entered a stone-paved yard, on one side of which stood the gate-warder's lodge, and
on the other stretched out a gravelled court. A canopy of glass, like the roof of a green¬
house, was suspended in the air like an a"\vning, and covered in the path leading to an
iron double gate, which lay some twenty feet off in front ; the little yard was hemmed
round with thick railings and massive gates, through which we could distinguish the governor's
house and the protruding sides of the main prison itself, with its small heavüy-barred
windows. The detached clump of briildings between us and the main prison seemed more
like a private residence than part of a prison ; and on inquiry it was explained to us, that
the erection was that in which the clerk's and governor's offices, the visiting magistrates'
committee-rooms, as weU as the armoury and the record office, were situated.
The gate-warder stood by with the bright key inserted in the lock, as the officers
entered, ready to turn the bolt at the first order.
We were not long before we made the acquaintance of the deputy-governor, who, in full
uniform, with a crimson shield and gold sabre on his collar, and gold band round his cap,
came out to review the warders before they began the duties of the day.
"Half-past six," said that gentleman to us, pointing to the time-piece, large as a target,
over the double-grating, "is the time to close the gates, but we do not shut them until
three minutes past the half-hour, to give the men a little time in case the clocks outside
should differ from our own."
At two minutes past the half-hour the men came hurrying through the gates, for there
is a fine attached to being late on duty.*
The gate-warder's office was a room full of wainscotted cupboards, and with heavy
ledgers in a rack over the desk on one side ; and as we stood here looking at a long row of
pigeon-holes, alphabetically arranged, with a few letters in them, the warder told us that the
letters had been sent by the prisoners' friends, but that as only one epistle was allowed in
three months, those we saw had been kept back until the permitted period arrived. There
were barely a dozen such epistles.
When the order to close the gates had been given, the warders fell into three lines, as if
for a review. As some of them carried umbrellas, and others bundles, the spectacle had not
a very military appearance.
• For every five minutes that an officer is behind time, he is fined 6Ä, until the sum of 2». 6<#. has been
forfeited.
290
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOKDON".
"Attention!" cried the deputy-governor, and then the warders became stiff and erect.
The superior officer passed down the first line, and examined their dress, observing whethei
their boots and clothing were cleanly and in proper order, and then giving the command of
"Two steps forward—march!" ho walked down the alley thus formed between the first
and second rows, and inspected the second file.
This examination over, the double iron-gratings were unlocked, and passing through the
passage in the centre clump of buildings, we entered the flag-stoned yard facing the main
or felons' prison.
There was no doubt now as to the nature of the edifice before us. The squat front of
the whitewashed two-storeyed building was so devoid of any attempt at ornament, that even
the small windows with the heavy black gratings before them seemed reliefs to its mono¬
tonous aspect. A few stone steps led to a low wicket with a row of spikes on its thick swing-
door, the spikes being so arranged that they reached within two inches of the thick cross¬
bars fixed in the circular fan-light over it.
An officer, with a pale, tired face and disordered hair, and who, armed with a cutlass,
had been watching through the night, here met the deputy-governor. " All right," reported
the man, and moved on.
A gang of prisoners, dressed in their suit of dusty gray, now issued from the main build¬
ing and crossed the yard, with a warder following them. On the back of each criminal was
a square canvas tablet stitched to the jacket, and on the bosom was a long badge worn
something like that of a cabman. Each of the wretched men, as he descended the stone
steps, and caught sight of the deputy-governor, held up his hand to his worsted cap and
gave a half military salute.
" They are vagrants and reputed thieves," explained the officer; "but for want of room
in the vagrants' ward they have been sleeping in the felons' cells. We are now waiting,"
continued the officer, " until the different cells are unlocked, and then it is my duty to make
the rounds and count the prisoners."
The Interior of the " Main" Prison and Counting the Prisoners.—All confined within
the main prison have, as we have said, been convicted as felons. Ascending the stone
steps we passed down a few paces of passage, when a second wicket, similar to the first,
was unlocked to admit us. We now stood in a kind of haU about forty feet square, in the
centre of which were four stout iron pillars, " to support," as we were told, " the chapel
above." This vestibule was so bright with whitewash, that the light reflected was almost
painful to the eyes. On the walls were large paper placards printed in bold type, with
religious texts. One was as follows :—" Considee toue ways, foe ye shall all staio)
BEFORE THE JUDGMENT SEAT OF Cheist." Another ran—" SwEAE NOT AT ALL," which,
in a prison conducted on the silent system, struck us as being somewhat out of place:
Whilst a third contained the ctiriously inappropriate quotation—" Behold how good and
HOW I'LEASANT IT IS FOE BEETHEEN TO DWELL TOGETHEE IE UNITY." At each COmer of
this hall there was a gate of thick iron bars leading to the prisoners' cells.
Before us lay a long corridor, down which ran a double row of thick columns, supporting
a groined roof. These pillars were stout and dumpy, being more than two feet in diameter,
and measuring scarcely six feet from the groimd to the overhanging capital whence the
arches spring. Yet, although the width of the centre passage was but a few feet, still,
from the corridor being nearly one hundred feet in length, the effect was picturesque and
agreeable, owing to the pleasing perspective of the columns.
This main building contains eight yards, each one holding from a hundred to a hundred
and fifteen prisoners, all felons. The deputy-governor, unlocking one of the strong iron
gates in the comer, led us into what is called the first yard. It was an oblong open space,
about the size of a racket-ground, lying parallel with the outer wall, or front, of the
HOUSE OF COREECTIOH, COLDBATH FIELDS.
291
building, and at rigbt angles vritb the passage. On one side was what appeared two low
wooden sheds hnilt one ahove the other, and each with long glazed lights running the entire
length of the buildings ; the under one being the meal-room, and the upper a spare dormi¬
tory, at present out of use. As in the other portions of the building we had passed
through, here the walls and wood-work were scrupulously clean and fresh with whitewash
and paint. Facing these sheds was a row of doors leading, as we found, to the sleeping cells.
The doors, with the black bolts drawn back, and the cross-bars slanting upwards, were
half opened, showing the inmates had left the cells. Over each door was a massive half-
circular grating let into the stone wall, and by means of which the light entered when the
men were locked up for the night ; whilst at the further end, ranged on one side of the
doorway leading to the galleries above, were six slate washing-stands for the use of the
prisoners.
Those of the prisoners who slept in the dormitories and cells, in the upper part of the
prison, were entering by the last-mentioned door, in a long file, each carrying a wooden tub,
which, as he passed a sink in the centre of the yard, he emptied, and then added the vessel
to a pile that kept rapidly increasing in height as one after another went by. Then, still
continuing in line, the prisoners entered the wooden shed. These men carried also a bundle
composed of a towel, a comb, and Bible, Prayer, and reading book. Soon the under shed
was filled with the culprits ; whereupon the officers mounting on their tall stools, so situated
that from them they cmüd overlook the crowd, kept a strict watch that none of them con¬
versed together.
The place, as we entered, was silent as a deserted building. The long rows of wretched
men in their dusky pauper gray suits, without one particle of white to relieve the monotony
of their prison costume, looked like so many rats in a cage. Their faces seemed pale and
careworn, and they turned their eyes towards us with a half idiotic expression, in which
there was neither surprise at seeing a stranger amongst them at so early an hour, nor
even shame at being seen by a visitor in their degraded position. Amongst the prisoners
we noticed one, a lad not more than fifteen years old, and three or four old men, who all
seemed equally out of place in such an assembly—the one from his youth, the others from
their age. A few of the men were already reading, and never raised their eyes.
The deputy-governor having counted the prisoners, called out the number, and the sub-
warders having answered "Eight," an entry was made in a book, and the felon's morning
toilet commenced. The men took off their coats and opened their blue shirts. Directly the
sombre gray clothes were removed, it was strange how altered the appearance of the prisoners
became. The colour of the flesh gave them once more a hmnan look.
Twelve at a time they rose and entered the yard. Then, some at the slate lavatories,
others at tubs placed on the paved ground, began to soap their neck and faces, and rub them
with their wet hands until they were white with the lather. But a few minutes were
allowed to each gang, and at the expiration of the time they returned to the shed, there to
adjust their shirts, comb their hair, and put on their jackets.
"Whilst these operations were going on the iron-barred door of the yard opened, and a
prisoner, bearing a tin can entered, accompanied by the infirmary warder. This can con¬
tained poultices, and the man called out aloud, " Any want dressings ?" A lad, with sores in
his neck, hada soda-water bottle given to him, filled with a gray-coloured wash, and he entered
a cell to apply the medicine.
Before leaving the yard the deputy-governor went to a tell-tale clock (similar in con¬
struction to those seen at Pentonville, and which, we were assured, were the invention of
Mr. FiUary, the engineer to this prison), to see if the night warder had regularly marked the
half-hours, and so discover whether he had attended to his duties.
In all the yards that we visited the same counting and cleansing processes were being
gone through.
292
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON".
In one of the yards we noticed a negro, a tall, bony fellow, with blood-shot eyes ; in
another, an old man of eighty, with hair as white as the prison walls themselves, and which
was especially striking from the generality of the prisoners being mere youths. He no
sooner saw us enter, than hastily putting on his spectacles, he commenced reading, bending
his face down as if to hide it in shame. The deputy-governor told us that he had given a
false name, but that it was knoAvn he once held a high command in the army. He was
there for a nameless offence.
The counting ended, our guide returned to the jail office to consult the locking-up slate,
upon which had been marked the number of prisoners within the walls when the doors were
fastened the night before. The amount agreeing with the morning's examination, a paper
form was filled up to await the governor's signature.
The Prisoner»^ Own-Clothes Store.—As we had a few moments to spare, it was pro¬
posed to visit the loft where the clothes, taken from the prisoners on their arrival at the jail,
were stowed away.
" Mind you do not knock your head," said the officer, warning us that a beam, as thick
as a mast, stuck out in the narrow staircase leading up to the felons' wardrobe. No
sooner had we entered the loft, than the disagreeable, gluey odour which attaches itself to
moleskin and cordmoy, informed us of the materials of which most of the suits were com¬
posed.
The first sight of the dirty bundles, piled on the shelves, reminded us of Eag
Fair, where the itinerant flower and crockery vendors expose for sale the results
of their day's barterings. Each bundle, tied up as tightly as a boiling pudding, had a
wooden label, so as to indicate to whom the ragged contents belonged. Here were a pair
of trousers, with the linings dirtier than the once black cloth from which they were
made. There a stuff waisteoat, made of stuff that was slowly unravelling itself with
wear, and becoming as thready and fibrous as the very oakum its owner would have that
day to pick.
"That's a countryman's bundle, I should say," said the officer, pointing to a pair of
heavily nailed and ironed boots, the iron of which had become red with rust, from being so
long unworn.
Some of the hats were " shockingly bad" ones, being as limp as night-caps, and as rusty
as if made from cocoa-nut fibre. Others were carefully tied up in handkerchiefs, and some of
these had clean showy linings, and a greasy gloss. Our guide told us that occasionally they
had some very dandy suits to pack up, taken from the swell-mobsmen, whose fashionable
attire often included jewellery.
Smock-frocks and straw hats denoted culprits from the agricultural districts, corduroy
waistcoats, with brass buttons, were evidently some costermonger's property. Soldiers'
uniforms, with the coarse canvas linings and big brass hooks and eyes showing, were rather
plentiful. " Have you remarked," asked our companion, " that nearly aE the pocket-hand¬
kerchiefs have a red pattern?" And so it was, with so few exceptions, that red may
assuredly be written down as the felon's favourite colour.
Before this clothing is stored away, each suit is well fumigated with sulphur, to destroy
any vermin that it may contain. At a later period of the day we had an opportunity of
witnessing this process. In a large oven, with a fire burning beneath it, the suits, wrapped
tightly in a roll, are placed on bars, one above another. The oven will contain 150 suits.
A pan, filled with brimstone, is lighted and placed in this chamber, and the doors being
closed, the temperature is carefuUy watched, that the heat should not exceed 212", for
fear that the bakings should be literaEy done to rags, or burnt to a cinder. The garments
retain, on coming out, rather a powerful smell of lucifer matches, but, when compared
with their previous odour, the change is not disagreeable.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
293
FUMiaATING PRISONERS' CLOTHES AT OOLDBATH FIELDS PRISON.
\* Liberation of Prisoners.—The House of Correetiou being -what may be called a short-
term prison, men are discharged from confinement nearly every day ; indeed, the usual number
of discharges for the week amounts to about 150 prisoners.
"We were informed that a gang of twenty prisoners would that morning quit the jail,
and asked if we should like to witness their departure. Following the deputy-governor,
we hastened to the spot where the men were ranged.
The deputy-governor, looking at a paper which he held in his hand, said to the gang,
" Now, my men, stand forward, one at a time, and caU out your names." " W
B ," instantly cried out one of them, quitting the rank. " Go on," was the command
then given. "J T ," shouted another. "Move on," was the rejoinder; and
in this way the whole twenty passed their final examination.
The utter absence of anything like joy or excitement on the part of the men, at the pro¬
spect of their approaching liberation, was most remarkable. They stood staring stupidly about
them, and answered calmly, precisely in the same manner as, a day or two since, they had
replied to any question put to them by the warders.
"Whilst the liberation list was being checked in the office, the men exchanged the prison
uniform for their own clothes. By the time the papers were prepared, the wretched creatures
were also ready. Then the governor himself went up to them, and after kindly congratulating
them upon regaining their freedom, added, " Now that you are going to have your liberty,
I hope I shall not see you again. Seek the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and,
depend upon it, you wiU prosper."
21
294
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
The men once habited in their o^vn clothes, ragged as they were, had a more human
look about them, than when, a quarter of an hour since, they wore the prison gray.
Now began the begging scene, which, we were told, always precedes the departure of
prisoners from the jail.
One—a tall fellow, with his.bare feet showing through the holes in his burst and mouldy
high-lows—begged for an old pair of prison shoes. " Got a long way to go," pleaded the
man. "Where are you going?" asked the governor. "To Edmonton, sir; I'm a brick¬
layer, and got a wife and family," was the answer. "A bad way to help them, coming
here," remonstrated the governor, as he gave the necessary order to the storekeeper.
Another man, whose clothes, full of slits and holes, held together in so marvellous a
manner that they seemed like a dirty ragged mass of cobwebs, such as are seen in wine-
merchants' windows clinging to bottles of "fine old crusted port," had also got a long way
to go, and begged for a pair of socks and a trifle of money. He, too, obtained what he
wanted.
Another and another came up in his turn, and asked to be assisted. " It was curious,"
as the governor shrewdly remarked, " the long journeys they all had to perform."
We were standing at the big gate, to enjoy the sight of the men regaining their liberty,
when somebody knocked, and, on the warder opening the door, a respectably-dressed person
inquired if a man of the name of P would not be discharged that day ?
" Are you from the parish ?" asked the warder ; and, from the subsequent eonversation,
we leamt that during the husband's imprisonment (he had had seven days for drunkenness),
his wife and child had been thrown on the parish, and the authorities were now anxious to
comply with the forms of law, and hand her back to the husband. Accordingly, when
P left the jaü, the parish officer stepped up to him, and gave him a young girl with
an infant in her arms. P quietly said, "All right !" and walked off, leaving the
woman to follow.
Another such case followed, but with this one there were three little children, whom the
parish, having brought down in a cab, handed back to the father the moment he crossed the
prison threshold.
We had expected to see, among the crowd gathered about the outer raüings, a vast num¬
ber of the friends of the liberated, and to witness their joy at seeing the long-absent one
restored to them. But we were doomed to be disappointed. The "pals" of one or two
had certainly come to meet them ; but the welcome was given in a calm, unconcerned, nay,
almost business-like, manner. Others walked off from the crowd, with women following
them, never even looking back at the females at their heels. One youth, a tall strip
of a lad, in a Holland coat that fluttered about his pole of a body, had scarcely shown
his face at the gate, before a voice in the crowd shouted out—" Now, Jim, can't you come
on !" and we saw a thick-chinned man, with a tall, narrow-brimmed hat, motioning angrily
to the late prisoner to make haste.
*#* Arrival of Prisoners.—^When the prison-van is seen driving in the direction of
the House of Correction, a crowd begins to form outside, in the hope of catching a
glimpse of the prisoners alighting. Butchers with joints "wanted in a hmry," fishmongers'
lads with fish "to be sent round directly," nmsery-maids with perambulators, coster-
women with their shallow baskets—all push for a good place at the raüings to have a peep at
the sight. On the day that we were at the prison, the spectators on the pavement were
doomed to be disappointed, for the big outer gates were opened, and the huge hearse-like
omnibus was driven into the yard, the horses sputtering about as they tugged at the heavy
vehicle.
" As fuE as we can cram!" said the conductor, getting down from his small haU-chair-
like seat, outside the extreme end of the vehicle. When he unlocked the door, sure enough,
HOUSE GE COERECTION, COLDEATH EIELDS.
295
even the passage between the two rows of closet-fashioned cells, ranged along the inside of
the carriage, was filled with men standing there; they were all felons from Newgate, where
the sessions had just terminated.
One by one the men stept out, with a half bound, as if glad to have ended their cramped
ride. They stared about them for a second, to see what kind of place they had arrived at,
and then, obeying the warder's commanding voice, they passed the double iron gate, where
the visits take place, and entered the inner court. There they stood with their backs turned
to the main prison, waiting for their names to be called over, and their sentences and
offences entered in the prison books.
There were nineteen of them altogether, aU of them with unshorn beards, dirty linen,
tumbled clothes, and presenting the appeai-ance of having been up all night. One was in a
soldier's uniform ; another was a respectable-looking man, of stout build and tall stature, and
with silver spectacles, who, despite the dullness of his boots and the dusty condition of his
clothes, might be styled the gentleman of the gang. Another, a youth, with eyes and skin
as dark as a Spaniard's, whose delicate moustache, loose paletot, and sporting trousers, were
after the casino style of fashion, ranked next in gentility of appearance. A lad vrith a
peculiarly-shaped conical head, and who kept nervously buttoning and unbuttoning his sur¬
tout, was the next who had anything singular in his look, for all the others had more or leas
of the thieves' character about them, and wore bright-coloured handkerchiefs loosely tied
roimd their neck, or had rows of brass buttons down their corduroy jackets, and boots
made to lace up in front. One was lame and used a crutch, another carried a paper parcel,
another a bundle tied up in a handkerchief, whilst the bulgy condition of some of the coat
pockets showed that the scanty wardrobe had been stuffed into them.
"Whilst the new-comers were thus standing, a file of prisoners, in their prison suits, passed
through the yard. Each of the men, in dingy gray, looked hard at those in their " liberty "
suits, and the newly-arrived, in their turn, stared curiously at their future companions on
the tread-wheel.
Presently the voice of the chief warder was heard ordering the first man to enter the
office, where the clerk was to make the necessary entries. The tall, stout man, with the
silver spectacles, walked up to the desk, and the examinations commenced in a business-like
manner, the questions and answers being equally short.
"Name?" asked the chief warder. "J C ," answered the prisoner. "Age?"
continued the officer. "Thirty-nine," replied the man. And then the following questions
and responses foUowed in quick succession:—"Eead and write?" "Yes." "Ever here
before?" "Oh, no!" "Trade?" "Clerk." ""Wliat were you tried for?" "Embezzle¬
ment." " That will do, you can go back," said the officer; and then turning to the entering
clerk, he added, "-with hard labour." As the prisoner heard this addition, he stopped at
the door and remarked, "I thought it was without labour;" but the officer dispelled his
hopes by repeating, " with hard labour."
All the prisoners had to answer to similar questions, all equally short, but often the
replies were long, and a kind of cross-examination was required before a decisive answer
could be elicited.
A nattily dressed lad, who had a groom's look about him, said that he had been com¬
mitted "on suspicion." "That won't do," exclaimed the officer, "try and remember."
" That's what it was, sir," the man maintained. " Didn't you steal some tools ?" "Yes,
sir, but " "There, no ' huts' about it," answered the chief warder, who directed the
clerk to write down " stealing tools."
"We felt sorry for one of the lads, a modest, well-spoken boy, who kept his eyes on the
ground, and replied in a low voice, as if ashamed. He gave the name of " Smith," and, as
the officer remarked when the youth had left the office, "it Avas evidently not his proper
name; " and then ho added, knowingly, " AU ' Smiths' are doubtful."
21*
¿96
TSE GREAT WORLD OF LOSDOS.
One youth, with closely cut hair, and protruding ears, when asked whether he had ever
been in prison before, without the least hesitation replied, "Sever, s'elp me!" "I know
better, replied the warder, looking earnestly at him. "I'm sure I haven't," continued the lad,
with an innocent expression of face. "We'll see whether some of the officers wül recognize
you," said the examiner. " But«it wasn't for felony, sir," muttered the lad, who plainly saw
that further concealment was of no avail.
The lame man with the crutch was there for highway robbery. A cripple footpad seemed
strange enough. " What did you steal ?" asked the warder. " Three pound, I think, the
said I took off her," was the reply that explained the mystery of his success. This fellow
was nervous when he gave his replies, so that when asked, "What religion?" he answered,
" Carpenter."
The soldier, and two others, were sent to prison for stealing a watch in a skittle-aUey.
He forgot his age, and made himself a year older than when at Newgate. A man in a
brown Holland smock had stolen a sheep, and the one with the conical head had purloined
photographic lenses. This boy answered so sharply to the questions, that when he had gone
all the clerks exclaimed that they had never seen anybody " so cool." The youth with the
dark Spanish complexion had been indicted, together with his brothers, for peijury.
When the examinations were finished, the governor came to look over the list, and then
addressing the wretched band, he said, "Now, my men, we shall be some time together, and
I hope you wiU attend to the rules of the prison. You'll find it more comfortable to your¬
selves to obey the officers !" And, the harangue concluded, a warder led the poor wretches off
to the dressing-room, where, after bathing, they would have to exchange the clothes they
wore for the prison costume.
Visits of Prisoners^ Friends.—Presently we had an opportunity of being present
during the visits paid to the prisoners by their friends. " Two relations or respectable
friends," say the prison núes, " may visit a prisoner, in the presence of an officer, at the
end of every three months, between the hours of ten and twelve."
All prisoners, on entering Coldbath Fields, cease to be called by their names, but are
christened with a number instead. When a relation or friend calls at the jail on the day
appointed for visiting, the criminal is asked for by the number he bears. The officer, to find
out which is the man's yard, goes to a huge tablet, almost as large as the top of a kitchen
table, and this is a kind of ledger or stock-book of the men in custody. It is ingeniously
contrived in this manner:—The numbers from 1 to 1,500 are engraved on the zinc plate
forming the tablet, and against each number is a small moveable slip of brass, as big as a key-
label, on which is marked the yard and prison in which the man who has received that
number is located. For instance, against No. 1,230, was a moveable label with 2 V 60 stamped
on it ; this meant that the culprit stood 60th in the 2nd yard of the vagrant prison ; whilst
No. 1,231 had marked on the brass label 5 F 24, implying that this man was the 24th prisoner
in the 5th yard of the felon prison.
There are two arrangements in Coldbath Fields by which the prisoners are permitted to
see their friends. The one is at the double gate before the building, situate between the
entrance doors and the main prison, and the other is at a place built for the purpose in the
first yard of the vagrant jail. At the latter a series of niches have been built in the side
wall, each one just large enough for a man to enter. Through gratings the prisoners can
converse with their visitors, who stand in almost similar niches, separated by a long passage,
where a warder patrols. The gratings before the visitors are almost as close as net-work, in
order to prevent anything being passed to the inmates of the jaU. Only fifteen minutes are
permitted for each interview, and, for the correct measurement of the lengtti of the visit,
hour-glasses are fastened %p over the niches appropriated to the prisoners' friends, as shoWn
in the annexed engraving. The moment the friends and the prisoner enter, this time-keeper
HOUSE GE COREECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
297
COMPARTMENT ON THE SIDE FOR VISITORS.
COMPARTMENT ON THE SIDE POR PRISONERS,
is turned, and as soon as the sand has run down, aU conversation must cease and the sti-angers
depart. An officer keeps watch the while by patroling, as we said, up and down the
passage.
A man in the felon's gray was, at the time of our inspecting this part of the prison,
chatting with his wife and daughter, both of whom were respectably dressed, with gold
brooches to fasten their shawls, and other evidences of being weU-to-do in the world. This
man, together with his son, was in prison for abduction ; a young lady of property having
been carried off by the father, and forcibly married to the youth.
" Be sure and let Alfred and Arthur go to school and learn spelling—that's most essen¬
tial," said the husband to his wife, who, by this time, seemed quite resigned to the family
" misfortune."
" Frank's at work in a good situation," answered the woman. And so they continued
chatting over the family matters for the permitted quarter of an hour, all of them evidently
much calmed and comforted by the meeting.
The other prisoner was one belonging to the poorer class. His wife wore an old straw
bonnet that had tnmed brown as pie-crust with wear, and she frequently raised to her eyes
a pocket-handkerchief rolled up as small as an orange, with which she dabbed up her tears.
" Good-bye, love !" said the man, when his time was up ; " good-bye, dear, and get some
stuff for your rheumatiz." >
The handkerchief went up to the poor creature's red eyes as she muttered her good-bye.
298
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
She stopped to see him look round once more as he entered the small wicket-gate of the
prison, and then turned roimd and crept off homewards.
In the afternoon we witnessed a scene of a more painful and less frequent occurrence
than that of visiting. A poor lady came to inquire after her boy, and to entreat the governor
not to permit him to leave the prison until she herself came to fetch him, lest his evil com¬
panions should once more entice him into wickedness.
Her dress and manner were those of a wealthy and educated person. Her features were
distorted with grief, which every now and then, as she looked up at the small grated windows
in the prison walls, seized her suddenly, like a fit. When she began to speak, her throat
swelled and choked the words, whilst her arms trembled tiU her loosely-hanging bracelets
clinked with the motion.
From the careless manner in which her shawl and bonnet were put on, she hard evidently
come out in a hurry. We could not help imagining to ourselves that perhaps the father had
sworn that the boy, who had disgraced his family, should never enter his house again, and
forbidden the mother from visiting him, so that the poor, kind soul had to creep out on the
sly whenever she wished to make inquiries after her erring child.
"I am his mother," sobbed the lady, when the governor had come to her ; "I am his
mother, I am sorry to say."
" He will be liberated next Tuesday morning at half-past nine," said Captain Colville ;
" but I will manage to detain him here until the others have left."
" Has anybody been to see him, sir ?" asked the mother, with evident anxiety.
The answer of " Two of his companions have been here," seemed to cut her to the
heart.
"I'll be here by ten, sir," she added after a time, " and pray don't let him go before
that time. I know he wiU let me take him, if there is no one to tempt him away."
The governor, who was evidently much interested in the case, accompanied the poor lady
to the gate, and by his gentleness of manner, more than by his words, showed his S3Tnpathy
lor her sufferings. When he closed the prison-door, he drew in his breath as if he felt the
relief of having accomplished the most distressing of all his duties.
This lad, we leamt, was of highly respectable parents, and had fallen into evU ways
through the temptations held out to him by the companions he had met with.
Prisoners' Letters.—All letters sent by the prisoners to their friends are opened by
the governor before they leave the jail, to see that they contain nothing but matters
relating to the family or personal business of the "writer.* Some of the men, kno"wing that
their epistles are sure to be perused by the governor, endeavour, as is usual at other prisons,
to "win his good opinion, by gi"ving to their compositions a religious and repentant air, in
the hope of easing their labours and bettering their position. For instance, one man whom
* Every letter sent by a prisoner to his friends has the following printed heading :—
From No.* 1|onsi of ©orrictfon.
Admitted on the ©olS ISatlj jFtcIïf».
and who will be discharged {probably at 9 a.m.) on ,0^
the
• This No. to be written on Utters directed to the prisoner^ and to be stated when tnQuirtes ahotU him.
Prisoners are not permitted to send or to receive more than one letter in every three months, but events of
importance to prisoners may be communicated by letter {prepaid) to the GovnaNOR. Letters to or from prisoners
are read before delivery ; they should not exceed a sheet of letter paper, legibly written, and not crossed. They
must contain nothing improper, and no detailed news of the day. Two relations or respectable friends may visit a
prisoner, in the presence of an officer, at the end of every three mmths, between the hours of ten and twelve
{Sundays excepted). The visit lasts a quarter of an hour.
These privileges may be forfeited by misconduct.
No clothes, boolcs, or other articles, are admitted for the use of prisoners—except postage stamps or money.
HOUSE OF COERECTIOIÍ, COLDMÏH FIELDS.
299
we saw in the prison had been a cab driver; we had an opportunity of listening to a
conversation between him and the chief authority. He had a fawning manner of obse¬
quious respect that at first made us fancy he was some felonious footman. "When we
leamt his former occupation, his mode of speaking seemed such as " cabbies " are wont
to use to a generous fare; but there was nothing, either in his bearing or talk, calcu¬
lated to impress us with the notion that he repented his transgression and was seeking the
right path. From a letter written by this man we extract the following passages :—
" Send me word what Eichard is doing, and whethear Farthear sends him to school, for i
hope they do not let him Eun the streets, for there is no good to be found there. * « « *
This is a finishing school for me for i hope this will be a good warning to me for the future
please God spare me to come home again i shaE be a altard man please God i can get some
employment and have my Sunday to myself, please God i hope i shall never neglect my
going to church for i am sorry to say that as been a great foUy on my part."
Another epistle contained the following piece of poetry:—
" Aunt cousins and friends for a short time adieu
Once more I bid adieu to all of you
I win own Hberty is a jewl
While I myself Mve been a fool
My tale myself I wiU unfold
I think you wiU say in sin I am old
0 that I ad the wings of a dove
1 would begone with liberty and the birds above."
A third letter, evidently from an old offender, contained a confession of repentance which
seemed to be in a measure true, the reasons assigned for it being sufScient and convincing,
though hardly to be received as signs of an inward change of character :—
" I assure you for the four months which I am sentenced to at this prison is a deal more
severe than it was at hoUoway for I had to work no treadweU there, which I find is the
hardest thing that I have to do, it has I can assure you leamt me a lesson I never shall
forget, and wiU never again do anything that is likely to get me here again."
0/ "Sard" and "Prison Labour."
At the correctional prisons, labour, especially of the kind called "hard," forms part of
the punishment to which the prisoners are condemned. Out of the 7,743 persons pagaing
through Coldbath Fields in the course of last year, 4,511, or rather more than 58 per cent.,
were, according to the official returns, employed at "hard labour;" and the remaining
3,232, or not quite 42 per cent., at work not being hard labour. We have already given
our opinion as to the folly of endeavouring to reform a habit of idleness by mnkiTig industry
a penal infliction, and it now only remains for us to show the nature of the different kinds
of labour to which prisoners are subject, when condemned to the hard form of it.
Men sentenced to hard labour at Coldbath Fields are employed at :—
Tread-wheel work.
Crank Work.
Shot DriE.
Picking Oakum (3J lbs. daily).
Mat Making.
Washing.
Cleaning.
TaEoring.
Shoemaking.
300
THE GREAT WORLD CE LOHDOH.
There are likemse other handicrafts, to which the men are put after they have been in the
prison for some time, provided their behaviour has been good.*
The first three of the above forms of hard labour come under the denomination of itse-
less or profitless work—^being work for mere work's sake, applied to no earthly purpose or
objeet whatever—the very worst form of idleness, viz., idleness -with all the physical fatigue
of industry, without any of industry's rewards ; and it is with these forms of work more
especially that we intend dealing here. We wish it, however, to be distinctly imderstood,
that in the remarks it wül be our duty to make upon this form of " correctional " discipline,
it is far from being our intention to impute the least blame to the authorities of Coldbath
Fields prison. It is the system of useless labour generally that appears to us objectionable,
and not the mode in which that system is carried out by the officials at any one prison ; for the
subjoined strictures are as applicable to all correctional prisons (with the exception of the
Westminster House of Correction) as they are to Coldbath Fields, where we are happy to
acknowledge that the labour-punishment is enforced by the governor with every regard to
his duty at once to the public and the prisoners.
We are well aware of the difficulty with which the subject of prison labour in general,
and that of houses of correction in particular, is beset ; and we do not hesitate to allow
that it would be wrong and unbecoming in the prison authorities to permit prisoners to
pass their time louting about in idleness, as was the case previous to the invention of the
tread-wheel. We are well aware, too, that in a " short-term prison," where some of the men
are confined for only a few days, it is almost futile to attempt to make labour profitable,
owing to the impossibility of teaching the majority of the prisoners any handicraft in so
short a space of time.
We are well aware, moreover, how difficult it is to give any pecuniary value to mere
physical exertion, especially in towns where field or garden work, on accormt of the great
value and scarcity of land, cannot be adopted on any large scale ; nevertheless, if it come to a
choice of two evils, we boldly confess we prefer idleness itself to making industry idle
(because useless), and, therefore, hateful in every prisoner's eyes. Besides, what neeessity is
there for correctional prisons being situate in towns, where they are as much out of place
as churchyards, and where prisoners mmt be put to "grind the wind" simply because they
cannot be put to till the land.
The late governor of Millbank prison (and he is a gentleman whose prison experience
extends over nearly a quarter of a century), speaking of prison labour, told us that "it is a
great thing to make a prisoner feel that he is employed on some useful work. Nothing
• The following is the list of the oflEences which are usually punished with hard labour :—
Abduction.
Assaults, unnatural.
Assaults on women and children,
with intent.
Assaults on police constables.
Attempt at burglary.
Bestiality.
Concealing birth of child.
Conspiracies to defraud.
Cruelty to animals (either with
or without hard labour).
Cutting and maiming.
Dog stealing.
Disorderly apprentices (either
with or without hard labour).
Excise offences (either with or
without hard labour).
Embezzlement.
Felonies.
False characters.
Frauds, tried at Sessions.
Frauds, summarily disposed of
(eitber with or without hard
labour).
Furious driving, insolence to
fares, &c. (eitber with or
without hard labour).
Illegally pawning (either with
or without hard labour).
Keeping brothels.
Keeping gaming-house (either
with or without hard labour).
Misdemeanours, contempt of
court (either with or without
hard labour).
Misbehaviour in workhouse.
Biots and assaults (either with
or without hard labour).
Receiving embezzled property.
Selling or exposing obscene
prints.
Simple larceny.
Stealing fruit, &c.
Threats to deter workmen.
Trespassing, fishing, poaching,
&c.
Possession of base coin.
Unlawful possession of property
(with or without hard labour).
Unlawful collection of dust.
Wilful and corrupt perjury.
Wilful damage (with or without
hard labour).
Begging or sleeping in open air.
Disorderly prostitutes.
Fortune-telling.
Gaming.
Indecent exposure of person.
Incorrigible rogues.
Leaving families chargeable.
Obtaining by false pretences.
Reputed thieves and suspected
rogues.
HOÏÏSE OF COEEECTIOK, COLDBATH FIELDS.
301
disgusts a man and makes him so querulous, as to let him know that he is labouring and yet
doing nothing—as when at the tread-wheel. I am of opinion," he said, "that to
employ men on work which they know and see is useful, has the best possible effect upon
their characters, and much increases their chances of reformation. Every other kind of
labour irritates and hardens them. After twenty thousand prisoners have passed through
one's hands, one mmt home had some little experience on such matters. There was a tread-
wheel on the premises here for the use of ' penal ' or ' second-probation men,' and those only ;
but its use has been discontinued for some months and principaEy, we should add, owing
to this gentleman's remonstrances.
Every man's own experience, indeed, can tell him how irksome it is to see the work he
has done prove of no avail.
All human beings, we are bold to confess, even the most honest and industrious, have a
natural aversion to labour ; indeed. Scripture tells us that the necessity for it as a means of
mere existence was made a curse—"In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." If
labour were naturally pleasant, men would pay wages to be allowed to work, instead of
giving money to others to work for them. There are many instances, however, where
physical exertion is agreeable, and then we do not hesitate to part with a considerable sum
of money to be permitted to indulge in it, as in dancing, rowing, cricketing, and other
muscular exercises, which, because they are pleasing to mankind in general, have been called
"amusements" and "sports."
It is, therefore, in ahnest every case, the object or utility of the labour which makes it
agreeable to us. Some doubt whether the mere labourer takes any delight in his work,
though we fancy that even the bricklayer's hodman woidd be annoyed at having the bricks
thrown down from the scaffold as fast as he carried them up. But men generaEy work, not
for any delight they feel in the work, but simply to obtain food, to educate their children, to
provide shelter for their family, and to supply the various necessities and luxuries of life.
In but a very few instances is work done for mere work's sake, as in gardening, amateur
carpentering, turning, literature, painting, &c., &c. ; but even in these cases, men undertake
the task, not so much for the sake of the labour as from a delight in its products as works of
art or utility, and from the pleasure and pride they feel in being able to create such things.
None but children ever build up walls for the mere pleasure of knocking them down again, and
there is hardly any form of punishment so irritating as being condemned to work hard at
doing something which leads to nothing. Hence, we cannot but regard tread-wheels, which
are intended to grind nothing, and to do nothing; and cranks, which are made to scoop up sand
and pitch it down again; and shot-drül, which consists in transferring cannon-balls from one
place to another, for no earthly use whatever—but as inventions based upon the same bar¬
barous principle as that which instituted the tortures of the Inquisition, rather than as
enlightened and " chastening " punishments.
Now the evil of this useless hard labour springs from two sources. In the first place,
as we have said, the labour is obliged to be made useless, not only because houses of
correction are short-term prisons, but because they are built in cities ; for if they were
erected in the suburbs, a large portion of land might be attached to them, and the prisoners
profitably employed upon market-gardenhig or field labour—occupations alike healthful
and inspiriting, and requiring, moreover, no previous apprenticeship. In the second place, the
labour, not only in correctional prisons, but even in all others, can hardly be otherwise than
profitless to the workman, because the laws which regulate the world outside the prison
walls are essentially altered, if not whoEy reversed, inside of them. In society, every man,
unless possessing sufficient means to live in ease, is obliged to labour for his subsistence, and
the great cares of life among the poor consist chiefly in providing for the morrow's dinner,
or the Saturday's reut, or purchasing clothes. Sut no sooner has a man set foot within a prison
than all stich anxieties cease. There the rule of human existence is no longer that if any will
302
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
not work neither ehall he eat, as Paul says ; for in a jail he soon becomes aware that his daily
sustenance is in no way dependent upon his daily labour. Immediately he gets within the
gates, he has a good warm suit of clothing given to him ; at the appointed hour his dinner
is duly served ; at nightfall a comfortable bed is provided for bim ; and aU, as he weU
knows, without being contingent upon the least exertion on his part ; for it needs no one to
tell him that the tread-wheel work, and crank-work, and shot-drill have nothing at aU to do
with the procuring of his food, and that really none of these are sufficiently valuable even
to furnish the salt he consumes. If the Almighty ordained that labour should be a
curse, at least He attached the eating of our bread as a blessing to it. But in prison the
sweat of the brow brings no food as its reward ; and, therefore, the labour naturaUy
becomes most intolerably irksome to the prisoner, so that his whole nature rebels at it ; and
when the period arrives for his liberation, he has not only leamt to expect his food to be
supplied to him without labouring for it, but he has also leamt to look upon industry as a
punishment that he is bound to avoid as much as possible, so that he may taste the sweets of
liberty. Instead, therefore, of having increased his self-reliance, of having taught himthe
very lesson which of aU others he required most to leam, viz., to have faith in his own
exertions—^instead of having inculcated in him a deep and abiding sense that he possesses
in himself the means of contributing to his own comfort and enjoyment more than anybody
else, we have only demonstrated to him, during his incarceration, that it is possible by crime
rather than industry to procure a month or two of good wholesome food for his stomach, warm
clothing for his body, as weU as shelter for his head.
"Crime," said the constabulary commissioners, "proceeds from a desire to acquire the
good things of this world with a less degree of industry than ordinary labour." In prison,
therefore, the culprit has bis criminal propensities doubly strengthened. He leams there not
only that he can acquire sufficient to satisfy his wants without any industry at aU, but also
that the labour which he wishes to avoid is even more irksome and useless than he had
fancied it to be.
" But, sir," said the governor of Coldbath Fields to us, " you must deter these idle
feUows somehow."
Our forefathers thought so too, and accordingly enacted, in the year 1536 (27 Henry VIII.,
c. 25), that a " sturdy beggar" was to be whipped the first time he was detected begging,
to have his right ear cropped for the second offence, and, if again caught begging, to be
indicted for "wandering, loitering, and idleness," when, if convicted, he was "to suffer
execution of death as a felon and an enemy to the commonwealth." And yet, in spite of
such " deterrents," mendicity and vagabondage not only continued, but increased.
"Deter!" exclaimed the chief warder of the prison some time afterwards, as we con¬
versed with him upon the efficacy of punishments in general; " if you were to go out into
the streets with a gallows following you, sir, and hung up every thief and rogue you met by
the way, you wouldn't deter one out of his evü courses."
But surely the number of re-commitments every year (and at Coldbath Fields they
amount to 32| per cent, of the entire number of prisoners) is sufficient to show that the
present mode of reforming idleness, by rendering labour more than ordinarily repulsive and
utterly useless, has been found positively unavailing, and that after more than two and a
half centmies' trial of the plan.
There is but one way that we see of doing away with the folly and wickedness of useless
labour ; and that is, by returning to those natural laws which the Almighty has laid down
for the reg^ulation of human life, and making a man's food and enjoyments, whilst in prison,
depend upon the amount of work he does, as is the case with the rest of the world out of prison.
Ho man can accuse us of a want of consideration for the feelings and rights of
prisoners in general, and it is because we are anxious to win criminals to a sense of the
utility and dignity of labour, that we would have eveiy man placed, on his entering a jail.
HOUSE OF COEKECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
303
upon the punishment diet, i.e., his eleemosynary allowance of food should be only a pound
of bread and water per diem. We would hepin at this point, and make all creature comforts
beyond it purchasable, as it were, by the amount of labour done, instead of first leading the
prisoner, as now, to believe that he is entitled to receive such creature comforts without work,
and being afterwards obliged to resort to the pimishment diet as a means of enforcing a certain
amount of work from him.
Thus, the enjoyments obtained by the labour would make such labour desirable rather
than hateful to the prisoner, and so teach him the value of it.
This appears to us to be the natural and self-supporting plan of prison discipline ; and until
prison authorities have the courage, and, we will add, the humanity, to adopt it, in the teeth
of mistaken sentimentality, so long must the barbarism of grinding the wind, and crank-
work, and shot-drill continue, and continue, too, without avail.
The Tread-wheel.—We have before (p. 288) given an account of the origin of the
tread-wheel, stating that it was used merely to employ the prisoners, and keep them firom
louting about the jail. This invention was introduced at most of the prisons more than
forty years ago, but the machine, with but few exceptions, has never been applied, even
to this day, to any useful purpose. The prisoners style the occupation "grinding the
wind," and that is really the only denomination applicable to it—the sole object of the
labour of some 150 men, employed for eight hours a day, being simply to put in motion a big
fan, or regulator, as it is called, which, impinging on the air as it revolves, serves to add to
the severity of the work by increasing the resistance.
There are six tread-wheels at Coldbath Fields, four in the felons' and two in the
vagrants' prison. Each of these is so constructed, that, if necessary, twenty-four men can be
employed on it; but the present system is for only twelve men to work at one time. At
the end of a quarter of an hour these twelve men are relieved by twelve others, each dozen
hands being allowed fifteen minutes' rest between their labours. During this interval the
prisoners off work may read their books, or do anything they like, except speak with one
another.
Each wheel contains twenty-four steps, which are eight inches apart, so that the circum¬
ference of the cylinder is sixteen feet. These wheels revolve twice in a minute, and the
mechanism is arranged to ring a bell at the end of every thirtieth revolution, and so to
annoimce that the appointed spell of work is finished. Every man put to labour at the wheel
has to work for fifteen quarters of an hour every day.*
Those who have never visited a correctional prison can have but a vague notion of
a tread-wheel. The one we first inspected at Coldbath Fields was erected on the roof of
the large, cuddy-Uke room where the men take their meals. The entire length of the
apparatus was divided into twenty-four compartments, each something less tban two feet
wide, and separated from one another by high wooden partitions, which gave them somewhat
* The following official statement as to the size of the tread-wheel, and the number of revolutions made
by it, as well as the gross height of the ascent performed by each prisoner working at it, has been furnished
to us by the authorities:—
There are 24 steps in the wheel.
The steps are 8 inches distant from each other.
This gives 192 inches ) ,
or 16 feet t »8 me circumference of the wheel.
The wheel performs .... 30 revolutions in each ¿ of an hour.
And therefore each man on it ascends 480 feet in ^ of an hour.
Each man works altogether . . 15 quarters of an hour a day.
And BO ascends in all . • • 7200 feet or 2400 yards very nearly 1 mile 3 furlongs per diem.
804
TKE GKEAT WOKLD OF LONDON.
of the appearance of the stalls at a public urinal. The boards at the back of these compart¬
ments reach to within four feet of the bottom, and through the unbearded space protrudes
the barrel of the wheel, striped with the steps, which are hke narrow "floats" to along
paddle-wheel.
When the prisoner has mounted to his place on the topmost step of the wheel, he has the
same appearance as if he were standing on the upper side of a huge garden-roller, and some¬
what resembles the acrobat we have seen at a circus, perched on the cask that he causes to
revolve under his feet.
All the men work with their backs toward the warder, supporting themselves by a
hand-rail flxed to the boards at the back of each compartment, and they move their legs as if
they were mounting a flight of stairs ; but with this difference, that instead of their ascend¬
ing, the steps pass from under them, and, as one of the oflcers remarked, it is this peculiarity
which causes the labour to be so tiring, owing to the want of a firm tread. The sight of the
prisoners on the wheel suggested to us the idea of a number of squirrels working outside
rather than inside the barrels of their cages.
Only every other man, out of the twenty-four composing the gang on the wheel, work at the
same time, each alternate prisoner resting himself while the others labour. When we were at
the prison, some of those off work, for the time being, were seated at the bottom of their com¬
partments reading, with the book upon their knees ; others, from their high place, were
looking listlessly down upon some of their fellow-prisoners, and who were at exercise in the
yard beneath, going through a kind of "follow my leader" there. In the meantime, those
labouring in the boxes on the wheel were lifting up their legs slowly as a horse in a ploughed
field, while the thick iron shaft of the machinery, showing at the end of the yard, was
revolving so leisurely, that we expected every moment to see it come to a stand-still. We
soon leamt that " grinding the wind" was such hard labour, that speed could not be given to
the motion of the machine.
Whilst we were looking on, the bell rang, marking the thirtieth revolution, and instantly
the wheel was stopped, and the hands were changed. Those whose turn it was to rest
came down from the steps with their faces wet with perspiration and flushed with exercise ;
while the others shut up their books, and, pulling off their coats, jumped up to their posts.
There they stood imtil, at the word of command, all the men pressed down together, and the
long barrel once more began to turn slowly round.
Those who left the wheel sat down, and, taking out their handkerchiefs, commenced
wiping the perspiration from their necks and foreheads. One man imbuttoned his shirt-
coUar, but in a moment the eye of the warder was upon him.
" Fasten up your collar, you there," he shouted, " and throw your coat over your shoul¬
ders." Then turning to us, he added, " They are liable to catch cold, sir, if they sit vtith
their bosoms exposed."
We inquired if the work was very laborious, and received the following explanation.
" You see the men can get no firm tread Hke, from the steps always sinking away from under
their feet, and that makes it very tiring. Again, the compartments are small, and the air
becomes very hot, so that the heat at the end of the quarter of an hour renders it difficult
to breathe."
We were also assured that the only force required to move the tread-wheel itseK is that
necessary to start the machine, and that when once the regulator, or fan, begins to revolve,
scarcely any exertion is necessary to keep it in motion. Nevertheless, the power that has to
be continually exercised, in order that the prisoners may avoid sinking with the wheel, is
equal to that of ascending or lifting a man's own weight, or 140 lbs. ; and certainly the
appearance of the men proved that a quarter of an hour at such work is sufficient to exhaust
the strongest for the time being.
Another proof of the severity of the tread-wheel labour is shown by the numerous
HOUSE OF COEEECTIOH, COLDBATH FIELDS.
305
subterfuges resorted to by the men as a means of getting quit of the work ; either they feign
illness or else maim the body, in order to escape the task. In the course of last year,
according to the surgeon's printed report, there were no less than 3,972 such cases of
"feigned complaints."
" "We were compelled," writes Mr. Chesterton, the late governor, " to limit the quantity
of water, otherwise many would drink it to excess, purposely to disorder the system. In
like manner did we narrowly watch the salt, else inordinate saline potations would be
swallowed, expressly to derange the stomach. Soap would be 'pinched' {i.e., a piece would
be pinched out), and rolled into püls, in order to found the plaint of diarrhoea. Lime
white would be applied to the tongue, and any available rubbish bolted to force on a
momentary sickness. Daring youths, who winced not at pain, were constantly in the habit
of makiug ' foxes' (artificial sores), and then, by an adroit faU, or an intentional contact
Avith the revolving tread-wheel, would writhe and gesticulate to give colour to their decep¬
tion. The term 'fox' signifies wilful abrasion of the skin, or laceration of the flesh, and the
wounds sometimes inflicted, led us to marvel how any rational being could voluntarily
court so much torture, rather than heartily perform a practical task and continue sound
and active."
Surely, when we read of such seK-tormenting deceptions as the above, we need no better
proof of the inefficacy of these degrading penal instruments, which have been disguised
imder the name of ind/asbrial machines. How is it possible that a youth should, on being
liberated, seek to earn his living by toü, when his prison experience has filled him vrith
such a dread of it, that he will prefer no slight amount of self-imposed pain to the perform¬
ance of his daily task at "grinding the wind." Is it not evident that to such persons a
forced sickness or a voluntary wound must have caused them less suffering than that of the
" wheel," else why have preferred bodily laceration to muscular exercise? Srirely, all but
the fatuous-minded must agree with the remark in the Government Eeport of the Home
Inspectors of Prisons, for 1838, which, speaking of the correctional treatment of the cri¬
minal, says—" The prison either leaves him to all the baneful effects of utter idleness, or
else its discipline consists in teaching him to tread the wheel, an employment which is enough
to make him moid all lahowr to the end of his days."
That the labour of the tread-wheel is excessive, is proved by the fact that the gross
amount of exertion required for the day's work of four hours and three-quarters, at Coldbath
Fields prison, consists in a man having to raise himself {i.e., a'weight of 140 lbs.) to a height
of 7,200 feet, or through a perpendicular space of one mile and three furlongs in length; and
it will be seen below that a bricklayer's hodman, even at his hardest work, when carrying
bricks to the top of an ordinary scaffold, does not ascend altogether to a height beyond that
of the workers at the tread-wheel.* True, he has his load to carry up in addition to his own
* The subjoined statement will enable the reader to compare the labour of the tread-wheel with that of
some of the severer forms of work performed by ordinary labourers.
A ten-roomed house is, measuring from the pavement to the coping-stone, about 36 feet high, and
the bricklayer's labourer will, when busy, ascend to this elevation on the average twenty times an hour,
or 200 times in a day's work of ten hours. The weight of an ordinary hod is 14 lbs., and the bricks with
which it is filled, about 72 lbs. ; thus a bricklayer's labourer wUl, in the course of the day's work, ascend to a
height of 7,200 feet, or very nearly 1 mile 3 furlongs, carrying with him a weight, in addition to that of his
own body (which may be taken on an average at 140 lbs.), equal to 86 lbs., or about that of a nine-gallon
cask of beer, and will descend the same distance, carrying with him 14 lbs. weight.
The men suffer from a pain in the chest from the stooping position they are obliged to adopt in order to
keep the load on the shoulder whilst mounting. A master informed us that a hodman is not fit for the ladder
after he is forty years of age.
The eoalwMppers generally work in gangs of nine. During their labour of whipping the coals from the
hold of the colliers in the river, they raise during the day IJ cwt. (or 18| lbs. for each man) very nearly
eight miles high, or four times as high as a balloon ordinarily mounts in the air; and, in addition to this
306
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
weight, but then few of these men are able to continue at the occupation when past forty
years of age ; and we ourselves know one or two liberated prisoners who have been laid up
with fever, owing to excessive labour at the wheel. The very fact, indeed, of the prison
rules forbidding men to unfasten their shirt-collars, after their work at the wheel, shows that
the authorities themselves are well aware that the labour }m at leant a tendency to induce
severe iUness ; and yet this is considered by some wiseacres to be the best means of teaching
men the beauty and utility of industry.
Assuredly there is no place so remarkable as a prison for its utter ignorance of human
nature, as weU as its gross violation of all those laws which Omniscience has instituted as
the coalwhippers themselves, in running up the steps of an apparatus which they call a " way," ascend rather
more than mile perpendicularly in the course of the day's work. On some days, when there is a stress
of business, they perform double this labour.
Dr. Carpenter (following the details given by the author of this work while writing for the Morning
Chronicle) cites the labour performed by the " cocUbackeri' in raising the coal from the hold of a ship as the
most violent that can be performed by man.
These men are engaged in carrying coals on their back from the ships and craft moored outside the wharves,
and placing them in the waggons. The sack and the coals together usually weigh 238 lbs., and the depth of
the hold of the vessels whence they are raised, average from 16 to 20 feet. The burthen is carried this
height up a ladder from the hold to the deck, and the ship is usually from 60 to 80 feet removed from the
waggon. Each man ascends this height and travels this distance about ninety times a day ; hence he wiU
lift himself, with 2 cwt. of coals and a sack weighing 14 lbs. on his back, 1,440 feet at the lowest calculation,
or upwards of a quarter of a mUe high (t. three and a half times the height of St. Paul's), in twelve
hours; and, besides this, he will travel 6,300 feet, or more than 14 mile, carrying the same weight as he
goes, and returning and descending through the same space after getting rid of his burthen. The labour is
very hard, and there are few men who can continue at it. Many of the heartiest of the men are knocked
up by the bursting of blood-vessels and other casualties, and even the strongest cannot keep at the labour
for three days together.
The following is a summary of the above facts, showing the power of an average man, as well as the
intensity of the labour performed by each of the working men above-mentioned, in comparison with tread-
wheel work. Thus:—
lbs. In. Sec. Ft. Hrs. Min. Sec.
An ordinary man can support on )
his shoulders . . . )
An ordinary man can lift with )
both hands . . . )
An ordinary man can lift . 100 12 high in 1 of time.
Therefore—
A bricklayer's labourer can raise 1
himself, and 86 lbs. besides, or > 226
altogether . . . . )
A coalwhipper can raise him- ) ,..
self, or . . . . \ 1^0
A prisoner on the tread-wheel )
can raise himself, or . . | 140
A coalbacker can raise himself)
and 238 lbs. besides, or alto- >378
gether . . . . )
Hence it will be seen, that were the same power exerted by all of the above labourers alike, the ascent of
the bricklayer's hodman would require about thrice, and that of the coalwhipper, as well as the prisoner on
the tread-wheel, about twice, as long a period for the work as that of the coalbacker; but as the tasks are one
and aU completed in the same space of time, i. e., in one day's labour, it follows that the hodman, though
canying a lighter weight than the backer, but ascending to a greater height, performs, while rising, a task
which requires the exercise of thrice as much power as that of the coalbacker, in order to be accomplished in
the same period ; whilst the coalwhipper and tread-wheel worker, for a similar reason, exercise twice as much
power as the backer, so that the ascending labour of the hodman is thrice as great, and that of the whipper
and man on the tread-wheel twice as great, as that of the coalbacker.
It should be remembered, however, that ascending with such a load forms only one portion of the coal-
backer's labour; for, in addition, he has to carry his burthen more than IJ mile.
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PKISONEKS WOKKING AT THE TEEAD-WHEEL, AND OTHERS EXERCISING, IN THE 3rd YARD OF THE VAGRANTS-
PRISON, COLDBATH FIELDS.
(From a Photograph by Herbert Watkins, 179, Regent Street.)
HOUSE CE CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
307
motives to mankind—no place wliere there is so little wisdom displayed, and yet none where
so iWMcÄ is required.
The Tread-wheel Fan.—As we were leaving the gate we caught sight, for the first
time, of an immense machine situated in the paved court, which leads from the main or
felons' prison to that of the vagrants'. In the centre of a mound, shaped like a pyramid, and
whose slate covering and lead-bound edges resemble a roof placed on the ground, stands a
strong iron shaft, on the top of which is a horizontal beam some twenty feet long, and with
three Venetian-blind-like fans standing up at either end, and which was revolving at such a
rapid pace that the current of air created by it blew the hair from the temples each time it
whizzed past.
This is what is called the regulator of the tread-wheel. By this apparatus the resistance
necessary for rendering the tread-wheel ha/rd labour is obtained. "Without it no opposition
would be oflered to the revelations of the wheel ; for, as that power is applied to no useful
purpose,* the only thing which it is made to grind is, as the prisoners themselves say,
"the wind." Another method of increasing the resistance of this "regulator" consists in
applying to it the apparatus termed by engineers a "governor." If the regulator revolves too
quickly, the governor, similar in action and principle to that of a steam-engine, files open
from the increased centrifugal force, and by means of cog-wheels and levers closes the fans at
the end of the beams, thus offering a greater resistance to the air, and, consequently, increasing
the labour of the prisoners working at the wheel.
*#* OrmJi-Ulow.—Sometimes a prisoner, tired of working at the tread-wheel, or fatigued
• We were assured that advertisements have often been inserted in the journals, offering to lease the
tread-mill power, but without any result.
22»
THE TREAD-WHEEL FAN.
sos
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
with the monotony of working at his trade as a tailor or cobbler, will complain of some
aüment, such as pains in the back or chest, thereby hoping to obtain a change of labour.
In such instances the man is sent to the surgeon to be examined. If he be really ül, he is
ordered rest; but if, as often happens, he is "merely shamming," then he is sent back to his
former occupation. Should he still continue to complain, he is set to crank-labour, and it
is said that after a couple of days at this employment, the most stubborn usuaUy ask to
return to their previous occupation.
Crank-labour consists in making 10,000 revolutions of a machine, resembling in appear¬
ance a "Kent's Patent Knife-cleaner," for it is a narrow iron drum, placed on legs, with
a long handle on one side, which, on being turned, causes a series of cups or scoops in
the interior to revolve. At the lower part of the interior of the machine is a thick layer of
sand, which the cups, as they come round, scoop up, and carry to the top of the wheel,
where they throw it out and empty themselves, after the principle of a dredging-machine.
A dial-plate, fixed in front of the iron dnim, shows how many revolutions the machine has
made.
It is usual to shut up in a cell the man sent to crank-labour, so that the exercise is
rendered doubly disagreeable by the solitude. Sometimes a man has been known to smash
the glass in front of the dial-plate and alter the hands ; but such cases are of rare occur¬
rence.
As may be easUy conceived, this labour is very distressing and severe ; but it is seldom
used, excepting as a punishment, or, rather, as a test of feigned sickness. A man can make, if
he work with ordinary speed, about twenty revolutions a minute, and this, at 1,200 the
hour, would make his task of 10,000 turns last eight hours and twenty minutes.
Shot-â/rill.—This most peculiar exercise takes place in the vacant ground at the
back of the prison, where an open space, some thirty feet square and about as large as a
racket-court, has been set apart for the purpose, on one side of the plantations of cabbages
and peas. There is no object in this exercise beyond that of fatiguing the men and rendering
their sojourn in the prison as unpleasant as possible.
We first saw this drUl-ground whilst making the round of the prison gardens. The
ground had been strewn with cinders, which gave it the loose, black appearance of bog earth ;
and surroimded as it was by the light-brown mould of the cabbage rows, it seemed like a patch
of different material let into the soil, as though the land had been pieced and repaired like a
beggar's coat. Along three sides of this square were as many rows of large cannon balls,
placed at regular distances, and at the two ends were piled up pyramids of shot, those at
the base being prevented fr-om rolling out of their places by a frame of wood. It was diffi¬
cult to teU whether the cannon balls so spaced out had been left after some game at bowls,
or whether the spot had been cleared for action like the deck of a man-of-war, with the
shot ready for the guns. We took up one of these balls to examine it, and were surprised
at its weight ; for, although not larger than a cocoa-nut, it required a considerable effort
to lift it.
The shot-drill takes place every day at a quarter-past three, and continues until half-
past four. All prisoners sentenced to hard labour, and not specially excused by the surgeon,
attend it ; those in the prison who are exempted by the medical officer wear a yellow mark
on the sleeve of their coat. Prisoners above forty-five years of age are generally excused,
for the exercise is of the severest nature, and none but the strongest can endure it. The
number of prisoners drilled at one time is fifty-seven, and they generally consist of the young
and hale.
The men are ranged so as to form three sides of a square, and stand three deep, each
prisoner being three yards distant from his fellow. This equidistance gives them the
appearance of chess-men set out on a board. All the faces axe turned towards the warder.
HOUSE OP COREECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
309
•who occupies a stand in the centre of the open side of the square. The exercise consists in
passing the shot, composing the pyramids at one end of the Kne, down the entire length of
the ranks, one after another,'until they have aU been handed along the file of men, and piled
up into similar pyramids at the other end of the line ; and when that is done, the operation
is reversed and the cannon balls passed back again. But what constitutes the chief labour
of the drill is, that every prisoner, at the word of command, has to bend down and carefully
deposit the heavy shot in a particular place, and then, on another signal, to stoop a second
time and raise it up. It is impossible to imagine anything more ingenimahf useless than this
form of hard labour.
The men, some "vrith their coats and waistcoats off, and others •with their sleeves tucked up
to the shoulders, were hard at work when we got to the drill-ground. Before we reached
the spot, we could hear the warder shouting like a seijeant to raw recruits, constantly
repeating, " One, two—three, foue ! " at the top of his voice ; and each command was either
followed by the tramping of many feet, or the dull, plump soiind of some heavy weight
falling to the ground.
The men did their " work" with the regularity of old soldiers, moving to and fro -with
great precision, and bending down with simultaneous suddenness.
" One!" shouted the officer on duty, and instantly all the men, stooping, took up
their hea^Fy shot. " Two ! " was scarcely uttered when the entire column advanced sideways,
three yards, until each man had taken the place where his neighbour stood before. On
hearing " Three!" they every one bent down and placed the iron ball on the earth, and at
"Pour!" they shifted back empty-handed to their original stations. Thus, a continual
see-saw movement was kept up, the men now advancing sideways, and then returning
to their former places, whilst the shot was carried from one spot to another, until it had
travelled round the three sides of the square.
" Stand upright, and use both hands to put the shot do^wn !" shouted the warder, staying
for a moment his monotonous numerals. " Pay attention to the word of command," he
added. "Now, then, 'three!' " and down ducked aU the bodies; whereupon there came a
succession of thumps from the falling shot, as if fifty paviors' rammers had descended at
the same moment.
After a whUe the prisoners began to move more slowly, and pay less attention to the time,
as if aU the amusement of the performance had ceased, and it began to be irksome. One, a
boy of seventeen, became more and more pink in the face, while his ears grew red. The
warder was constantly shouting out, " Move a little quicker, you boy, there !" The shot is
about as heavy as a pail of water, and it struck us that so young a boy was no more fitted
for such excessive labour than prisoners above the age of forty-five, who are excused.
The men grew hot, and breathed hard. Some, who at the beginning had been yeUow as
goose-skin, had bright spots appear, almost like dabs of rouge, on their prominent cheek¬
bones. Now the warder had to keep on caUing out either, " "Wait for the time, you men
at the back," or else, " A little quicker, you in the second row." Many began to drop their
shot instead of putting it down carefuUy ; but they were quickly discovered, and a repri¬
mand of " Stoop, and put the shot down, do you hear ! " was the consequence.
"When all were evidently very tired, a rest of a few seconds was allowed. Then the men
pulled out their handkerchiefs and wiped their faces, others who had kept their waistcoats
on, took them off, and passed their fingers round their shirt collars, as if the Ii'tiati ^ere
clinging to the flesh, whilst the youth of seventeen rubbed his shirt sleeve over his wet bair
as a cat uses its paw when cleaning itself.
Before re-commencing, the warder harangued the troop. " Mind, men, when I say
OiTE ! every man stoop and carry his shot to the right. Now, One ! Two ! Heels close
together every time you take up and put down." And the prisoners were off again, see-sawing
backwards and forwards.
SIO
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
A warder near to us, with whom we conversed, said, " It tries them worse taking up,
because there's nothing to lay hold of, and the hands get hot and slippery with the perspi¬
ration, so that the ball is greasy Hke, The work makes the shoulders very stiff too."
This exercise continues for an hour and a quarter. We counted the distance that each
man walked over in the course of a minute, and found that he traversed the three yards'
space foxurteen times. According to this, he would have to walk altogether about one mile
and three-quarters, picking up and putting down, at every alternate three yards, a weight
ef twenty-four pounds. It is not difficult to understand how exhausting and depressing such
useless work must be.
*#* Oakum Picking.—There are three distinct rooms where the prisoners pick oakum,
one in the misdemeanour prison, and the two others in the felons' prison. We shall choose
for our illustration and description the larger one in the felons' prison. It has lately
been built on so vast a plan that it has seats for nearly 500 men. This immense room is
situated to the west of the main or old prison, close to the school-room. It is almost as
long as one of the sheds seen at a railway terminus where spare carriages are kept, and
seems to have been built after the same style of architecture, for it has a corrugated iron roof,
stayed with thin rods, spanning the entire erection. We were told that the extreme length
is 90 feet, but that does not convey so good a notion of distance to the mind as the fact of the
waU being pierced with eight large chapel windows, and the roof with six skylights. Again,
an attendant informed us that there were eleven rows of forms, but all that we could
see was a closely-packed mass of heads and pink faces, moving to and fro in every variety
of motion, as though the wind was blowing them about, and they were set on stalks instead
of necks.
On the side fitted with windows the dark forms of the warders are seen, each perched
up on a raised stool. The bright light shines on the faces of the criminals, and the
officer keeps his eye rapidly moving in all directions, almost as if it went by clock-woric,
so as to see that no talking takes place. If a man rest over his work for a moment
and raise his head, he sees, hung up on the white walls before him, placards on which texte
are printed. One is to the effect that "It is good foe a Max that he beae the Yoxe ih
his Youth another tells the prisoners that " Godeiness with Contentment is a geeat
gain whüst a third counsels each of them to " Go to the Ant, thou Sluggaed, consideb
heb wats, and be wise."*
* One of the peoutiarities of Coldbath Fields is the frequent display of Scripture texts, printed in a large
bold type, and hung up on every oonspicuous part of the prison walls. We believe that this idea originated
with the present kind-hearted governor himself—a gentleman whose endeavours to improve the religious
feelings of the prisoners under his charge are, from the evidences so plentifully distributed about the prison,
unceasing and most enthusiastic. But we doubt very much whether a criminal is to be affected by a printed
display of Bible quotations. On the contrary, we rather believe that the constant sight of such placards
tends 80 to accustom him to the religious warnings, that at last be ceases to notice them altogether, and pays
BO more attention to them than we do to the pattern of the paper on our walls. The obtruded texts become,
as it were, part of the furniture, and the felon at last passes them by, giving no more heed to the principles
inculcated by them than we do to a notice-board, which, having once read, we do not stop each time we go
by to re-peruse. Over the report-ofiBce, in the entrance hall of the prison, is placarded, " Sweae not at
au.," which we before noticed, remarking that in a prison conducted on the silent system such a command
appeared to us somewhat superfluous. In explanation, the governor tells us that the men, when reported
and brought before him, often accompanied their expostulations of innocence with oaths such as " Strike
me dead! " " Upon my soul ! " &c., and that it was on that account he had the text placed over the entrance
door. It would appear, however, that the language of the prisoners has not been much improved by the
placard, for the same form of vehement asseverations is said to be still indulged in, nor is it likely that a line
or two of print should change men, who pay no regard to the laws of society, into persons of gentle speech.
Besides, the experiment of these silent warnings has been often tried and failed. The Mohammedan has the
very cornice of his ceiling, and the arabesques on his walls, decorated with quotationa from the ¥oran, and
HOUSE GE CGEEECTIOH, CGLDBATH FIELDS.
311
"We went to the wall where the warders were, and looked up the sloping floor at the
dirty gray mass of life ; the faces of the men seemed like the flesh showing through a tattered
garment.
The building was full of men, and as silent as if it merely contained so many automata,
for the only sound heard was like that of the rustling of a thicket, or, better, the ticking of
clock-work—something resembling that heard in a Dutch clockmaker's shop, where hundreds
of time-pieces are going together.
The utter absence of noise struck us as being absolutely terrible. The silence seemed,
after a time, almost intense enough to hear a flake of snow fall. Perfect stillness is at all
times more or less awful, and hence arises a great part of the solemnity of night as well as
of death. To behold those whom we have seen full of life and emotion—some wondrous
piece of breathing and speaking organism, reduced to the inanimateness of the statue, is
assuredly the most appalling and depressing sight we can look upon. The stillness of the
silent system, however, has, to our minds, even a more tragic cast about it ; for not
only is the silence as intense and impressive as that of death itself, but the movements of
the workers seem as noiseless, and therefore unearthly, as spectres. Hor does the sense of
our being surrounded by some five hundred criminals—men of the wildest passions, and
almost brute instincts, aU toiling in dumb show and without a single syllable escaping from
their lips—in any way detract from the gohUn character of the sight.
The work-room at the dumb asylum is not half so grim or affecting a scene as the five
centuries of silent oakum-pickers at Coldbath Fields ; for, at the latter place, we are conscious
that the wretched mutes before us wovHd speak if they dare, so that we cannot help thinking of
the struggling emotions pent up in the several hundred crushed spirits before us. Either
the men must have been cowed by discipline into the insensibility of mere automata, or else
what gall and bitterness, and suppressed fury, must be rankling in every bosom there, at the
sense of having their tongues thus mrtually cut out. Hor can we help thinking that the
excision of the organ of speech itseK (after the manner that barbarous nations deal with
offending slaves) would be less inhuman as a punishment; for to leave the tongue in a
man's mouth, and yet to deny him the liberty of using it (when every little event in life,
every act we witness, every feeling we experience, as weU as every thought that passes
through the brain, suggests some form of speech from the mere force of association ; and
when, therefore, the restraint imposed upon a man's lips for the whole of his imprisonment
must be one long round of irritation upon irritation—a continual series of checkings and
eurbings of natural impulses, sufficient to infuriate even the best regulated and least irritable
natures)—this is surely a piece of refined tyranny, worthy of the enlightenment, if not
the humanity, of the nineteenth century. We are well aware of the evil consequences that
ensue when unrestricted intercourse is permitted among criminals ; but because thieves and
yet he cannot order a cup of coffee, or converse on the most ordinary topic, without swearing, " By Allah ! " or
*By the Prophet ! " at every dozen words. The Pharisees, again, are known to have had their phylacteií6a
covered with short passages from the Bible hung about their necks. The old Puritans, too, were accustomed to
interlard their conversation with oaths, such as " By God's wounds ! " " By God's blood ! " " By the agony of
Christ ! " and yet, although these phrases were intended to carry with them a scriptural sound, everybody of the
present day would certainly denounce them as improper and revolting. Again, the same fanatics loved to put
up religious signs even at tiieir drinking booths, as " God encomvassbs " (now corrupted into the " Goat akd
Coupasses"), or, in Saxon English, "God imbtjtes" (literally, God surrounds—God is «douí, but now
transmogrified into the " Goat akd Boots "). The Bible texts on the walls of Coldbath Fields seem to us
of the same blatphemous character. To our minds—we confess it boldly—they appear very much like using
tile most solemn phrases " in vain," i.e., idly, or when the mind is not fitted to appreciate them ; and surely
the plastering the walls of a prison with these religious jKMting-bUls only teaches thieves to adopt the cant,
rather than feel the spirit, of true piety. Suppose every hoarding in the public thoroughfares was to be
covered with texts, would the public be a bit better for it, think you ? or, rather, would not men be rendered
worse, and taught to use Scripture as a slang—to chatter it, as Catholic beggars do, their Latin prayers
udthout thinking of what they themselves are saying, and merely as a means of imposition upon others.
312
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
vagabonds become more corrupt by speaking together on bad subjects, surely that afiPords
no sound reason why we should deny such people the right of speech altogether, and so cut
off from them the only means that all persons have of improvement, viz., by moral and intel¬
lectual communion with other minds.
The quantity of oakum each man has to pick varies according to whether he be condemned
to hard labour or not. In the former case the weight is never less than three, and sometimes
as much as six, pounds ; for the quantity given out depends upon the quality of the old rope
or junk, i. e., according as it is more or less tightly twisted. The men not at Jmrd lahowr have
only two pounds' weight of junk served out to them.
Each picker has by his side his weighed quantity of old rope, cut into lengths about
equal to that of a hoop-stick. Some of the pieces are white and sodden-looking as a washer¬
woman's hands, whilst others are hard and black with the tar upon them. The prisoner
takes up a length of junk and untwists it, and when he has separated it into so many cork¬
screw strands, he further unroUs them by sliding them backwards and forwards on his knee
with the palm of his hand, until the meshes are loosened.
Then the strand is further unraveled by placing it in the bend of a hook fastened to the
knees, and sawing it smartly to and fro, which soon removes the tar and grates the fibres
apart. In this condition, all that remains to be done is to loosen the hemp by pulling
it out like cotton wool, when the process is completed.
By the rays of sim-light shining through the window, you can see that the place is fuU of
dust ; for the bright rays are sharply defined as those streaming through a cathedral win¬
dow. The shoulders of the men, too, are covered with the brown dust almost as thickly as
the shirt-front of a snuff-taker. A prisoner with a bright tin water-can is going the roimd,
handing up drink to the workers, who gulp it down as if choked.
"You're getting too close together on that back seat," presently awarder shouts to some
men on a form against the waU, and who instantly separate, till they are spaced out like
tumblers on a shelf.
We left the building for a time, and when we returned, we found a man lying on the
stone floor with a bundle of picked oakum supporting his head, and a warder unbuttoning
his shirt and loosening his waistcoat ; he was in an epileptic fit. His face had turned a
bright crimson with the blood flown to the head, so that the clenched teeth between his
parted hps seemed as white as a sweep's. The other prisoners went on working as though
it were no business of their's. After a few minutes a thrill ran down the limbs of the
prostrate man, he began to draw in his extended arms, his tightly closed hands opened, and
the eyehds quivered. "How do you feel now, my man?" asked the warder; but the
only answer was a deep-drawn breath, like that of a person going into cold water.
"We often have such cases," said the officer to us. "After letting them he down for
half an hour they are all right again, and go back to their oakum as weh as ever."
As the day advanced, the pieces of old rope by the prisoners' sides disappeared bit by bit,
and in their place the mound of treacle-brown oakum at their feet grew from the size of
a scratch wig to that of a large pumpkin. At length the men had all completed their tasks,
and sat each holding on his knees his immense tar-coloured ball, waiting to take his turn
to go to the scales and have his pickings weighed. Then the silence of the room, which has
aU along been like that of a sick chamber, is suddenly broken by the warder calling out,
" The first three men !" The voice seems so loud, that it startles one like a scream in the
night-time. Three gray forms rise up obediently as shepherds' dogs, and, carrying their
bundles before them, advance to the weighing-machine. Now the stillness is broken by
the shuffling of feet, and the pushing of forms, as prisoner after prisoner obeys the command
to give in his oakum.
Two officers stand beside the weighing-machine, and a third, with a big basket before
him, receives the roU as soon as it has been passed as correct. If a prisoner's oakum be
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
313
found to be ligbt, he is reported and punished ; many, we were told, are wont to get rid of
their junk, and so ease their labour by perhaps a pound.
" This won't do," says the warder, pointing to the puffy hemp in the scales ; " it's half
a pound short."
" It's aU I had, sir," answers the man. " Ask them as was next me if I haven't picked
every bit."
" Report him ! " is the warder's answer ; and his brother officer writes down the number
of the culprit in a book.
When the men had fallen into line, and been marched off to their different yards, we
inquired of one of the warders if oakum-picking was a laborious task. " JVbt to the old
hands," was the answer. " We've men here that will have done their three or four pounds a
couple of hours before some of the fresh prisoners will have done a pound. They leam the
knack of it, and make haste to finish, so as to be able to read ; but to the new arrivals
it's hard work enough; for most thieves' hands ame soß, and the hard rope cuts and blisters
their fingers, so that until the skin hardens, it's very painful."
The quantity of rope picked into oakum at Coldbath Fields prison would average, says
the governor, three and a half tons per week, which, at the present price of £5 the ton,
would produce the sum of £17 10s.
The Tailors' and Shoemakers' Room.—^WRen a prisoner is brought to the House of
Correction, he has the option given him—^provided he was not sentenced to hard labour—of
picking oakum or working at a trade. Through this arrangement the establishment boasts
THE TAILORS' AND SHOEMAKERS' ROOM AT COLDBATH FIELDS PRISON.
314
THE GKEAT WORLD OE LOEDOH.
of a numerous staff of tailors and shoemakers, who have a large room, as big as a factory-
floor, given up to them, where, under the inspection of three officers, 160 of them pass the
day, making and repairing clothing and boots and shoes. After the depressing sight of the
tread-wheel yards and the shot-driU, it is quite refreshing to enter this immense workshop,
and see the men employing their time at an occupation that is useful, and (judging from
the countenances of the men) neither over-fatiguing nor degrading.
One entire side of this workshop is occupied by a raised platform, on which are seated
a crowd of tailors, all with their shoes off, and cross-legged, like so many Turks. TaR rows
of gas-lights stand up amongst them, most of which are, now that it is summer-time,
serving as convenient places for hanging thick skeins of thread upon, or as pegs to sup¬
port some unfinished work. The men have a certain grade in their work, beginning with
repairing the clothes of their fellow-prisoners, then passing to the making of new suits of
gray and blue for the future arrivals, and at length reaching the proud climax of working
upon the cloth uniforms of the officers. When there is a lack of employment, some of the
younger hands are set to work at shirt-making.
The earnings of the prison tailors are estimated at frcmx Zd. to 5«. (!) the day, according
to their proficiency, the lads who are just learning to use their needle being put down at a
merely nominal sum—the value of everything made in the prison being estimated at what it
would cost if the work had been paid for outside the prison. A great quantity of the clothes,
boots, and shoes, sent to Hanwell Lunatic Asylum and the House of Detention, are manu¬
factured at Coldbath Fields. A considerable portion of the "estimated profit of work or
labour done by the prisoners,"* given in the annual returns, is earned in this large
chamber.
After the saddening spectacles of the other forms of labour at this prison, the eye is
greatly relieved by the busy sight of these tailors and cobblers engaged at their trades.
The prisoners here appear to work as though they found a relief in the employment
from the silent monotony of their jaü Ufe, and certainly have a less dejected and
more human expression of countenance than those to be seen in the other portions of the
building.
As we entered the room the tailors' arms were rapidly flying up in the air, and the soimd
of the clicking of shears told us that, despite the silence, a good amount of work was
being rapidly executed. In the centre passage was a stove stuck all over with big irons,
almost like half-hundred weights, which the continual roasting had oxidated into a fine
squirrel-red. A prisoner, after stuffing his bat-shaped sleeve-board down one of the arms of
* The following is the account that has been furnished us of the extent and value of the labour per¬
formed by the prisoners of different trades at Coldbath Fields prison, for the year ending 30th September
18Ö5
Amount of Work done in the Skotmaking Department,
333 pairs of male ofScers' boots. I 2,d00 pairs of prisoners' boots and shoes.
172 „ female ofdcers'boots. I About 12,500 pairs of boots and shoes repaired.
The aggregate estimated value of the shoemakers' labour, £800.
Taibring Department.
522 uniform coats.
199 „ waistcoats.
320 „ trousers.
23 gambroon coats.
223 uniform caps.
153 „ stocks.
The aggregate estimated value of the tailonf labour, £850.
The value of the labour executed by other trades, such as bricklayers, plasterers, masons, paintera
gardeners, £1,860.
1,008 prisoners' jackets.
1,068 „ trousers.
1,104 „ i^rts.
Miscellaneous repairs to ofScers' uniforms
and prisonws^ clotiung.
HOUSE GE CORHECTIOH, OOLDBATH FIELDS.
315
a. coat, until it was stretclied as tight as the cloth on a hiUiard-table, moved tovaxds the
stove and tested the heat of the irons with his wet fingers, the hot metal hissing as he
touched it lilfB a cat spitting. The new, stiff uniforms, with the metal buttons shining
like a row of large, brass-headed tacks on a double door, are hung up against the walls.
The men bend over their work, silent as mussulmen at their devotions, so that the first
impression on seeing the hands moving about is, that they are the gesticulations of so many
dumb men.
The other side of the room is, however, not so quiet ; for the eighty prison cobblers, seated
on rows of forms, are hammering on their lapstones or knocking in the sprigs. The men
wear big leathern aprons, like smiths', and some of them, with the last between their knees,
are covering it with the dead black skin, pulling it out with nippers until you expect to
see it split, and then tacking it down into its place. Others are bending forward, and
screwing up their mouths with the exertion of making the awl-holes round the tough brown
soles. Others, again, are throwing their arms wide open as they draw out the waxed threads.
Two or three lads, working near the wall, are rubbing some newly-finished boots up and
down with a piece of wood, as though they were burnishing the well-tightened calf and
foot.
The Printing-office and Needle-room.—To see the printing-ofidce, where the prison
lesson-books are set up in type and worked off, we had to leave the main prison and cross
over to that for misdemeanants. We found the prison printers sharing the same room with
the "needle-men," for as there is not more typographical work required than wül keep three
" hands " employed, a separate workshop cannot be spared, so valuable is every bit of space
at Coldbath Fields.
When female prisoners were sent to this jail, all the needle-work was performed by them;
but since their removal to Tothill Fields the men have had to do the labour. The apartment,
scarcely larger than a back parlour, was filled with the black-chinned needle-workers, who
sat on forms, some darning old flannel-jackets, others making up bed-ticks. One, with a
pair of spectacles almost as clumsily made as if they belonged to a diver's helmet, was
" taking up " some rents in a mulberry-coloured counterpane, but he used his needle and
thread somewhat after the manner of a cobbler making boots.
Against the wall of this needle-room stood a small printing-press, made so clumsily out
of thick pieces of wood and unpolished iron, that there was no difficulty in telling that it had
been manufactured in the prison. A good-looking lad, with a face smiling as if he had never
known vice, stood by the ride of the press, with his coat off and shirt sleeves tucked up,
busy placing paper, half transparent with dampness, upon the little form of type that he was
printing off. He was engaged in pulling a slip entitled, " A Few Texts eeom tttt?. Bibie "—
the same as we had seen suspended on the wajls of all the cells.
Close by was the frame on which was placed the case of types, with its square divisions
for each letter, like the luggage-label trays at railways. Another lad, with a compositor's
" stick" in his hand, was picking up the metal types as quickly as a pigeon does peas, and
placing them in their printing order, stopping every now and then to look at the written paper
before him. In a side-room, we found the head printer busily folding up sheets of letter
paper, with a newly-printed heading, on which the prisoners write whenever they send to
their friends.
The tickets for extra provisions from the kitchen, as well as those certifying the number
of men locked up at night and again xmlocked in the morning, and indeed all the Hmall
printing of the prison, is done in this office by criminals.
We cannot too highly commend the mtroduçtion of printing among the forms of prison
labour, and we believe that to the House of Correction belongs the honour of being the
only jail where it is at present pursued. It is at once a thoughtful, refining, and pleasant
316
TKE GEEAT "WOELD OF LONDOK.
MAT-HDOM AT COLDBATH FIELDS PRISON.
occupation, which, in its higher forms, forces the workman to meditate upon not only the
proprieties of speech, but the elegancies of thought and sentiment, and which, even when
applied to nothing more than the prison forms and lessons, is at one and the same time of
great service to the economy of a jaü, as well as heing, from the nicety of the art, of an
elevating tendency to the workmen employed.
Mat-room.—Mat-making appears to he a favourite occupation with prison authorities ;
doubtlessly owing to the facility with which a man can be taught the occupation, and because
such kinds of manufacture afford considerable occupation to others in preparing the different
Tn«toriala, "hands" being required, not only to pick the coir, but also to make the rough
cordage for the mat ; and in a jail labour is so plentiful, that the difficulty is to find sufficient
employment for aU the prisoners.
All the mats made at Coldbath Fields are contracted for by a wholesale dealer, who is
allowed to place foremen over the prisoners, both to instruct the new, and superintend the
old hands. There are thirty-three prisoners employed in the mat-room ; but including those
who dress the flav and coir, and spin the rope, occupation is afforded for about sixty
hands.
It is a very peculiar sight to enter the large workshop set apart for the mat-makers,
especiaEy after leaving the adjacent oakum-room, where the silence of the junk-pickers is
only broken by the sound of the moving arms ; for the mat-room is alive with the clatter of
tools and looms, and all the tumult of a busy workshop, so that the absence of aU sound
of the human voice appears to be the result of a close application to labour, rather than a
prison punishment.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
317
The big room, with its stone-paved floor, and iron-work roof, is as large as if a spacious
yard had been covered in, and what with windows and sky-lights, it is almost as light as a
photographer's studio.
The air smells of tan, like a ship-builder's yard ; but what flrst strikes the attention is
the long row of looms ranged against the side of the "shop" fitted with windows, and
which, at first, give one the notion that they are the frames of so many tumed-up press
bedsteads, placed out of the way, as on a cleaning day. In a recess, on another side, there
are more of these looms ; so that the building reminds one of a furniture broker's store.
Moreover, mats lie about in every direction ; some piled up on the table, and others hanging
to the walls, or strewn on the floor ; and large square baskets fiUed with coir form reservoirs
of rough material to keep the hands at work.
The looms are used for manufacturing cocoa-nut fibre matting, and cheap hearth-rugs—a
form of manufacture, which, compared with silk-weaving, is as different as house-carpenters'
work is to cabinet-makers'. The gauze-like threads of the Spitalfields machine are replaced
by coarse brown string ; and the silk-weaver's shuttle, not so big as the hull of an ivory
frigate, which darts with a whiz through the brilliant fibre of the Jacquard loom, is laid aside
for one as big as a dressing-case boot-jack ; and this had to be pushed and coaxed along the
cordage that stretches across the beams like the strings of some coarse musical instrument.
The battens come thumping down with a dead, heavy soimd, while the muscles, swelling and
moving in the bare arms of the weaver, show the exertion required to form the stiff coir into
the required position.
The young men prisoners, seated at spinning-wheels, are rocking to and fro as they twirl
round the humming disc that winds off the balls of coarse rope. The older hands are occu¬
pied with the harder work of making the rope door-mats ; some plying a needle like a
skewer, and others hammering with a wooden mallet to make the rows of the design lie
evenly.
" This man is manufacturing what we call a diamond sennit mat," said the officer,
lifting up the stiff brown article, and showing to us its back, with the cords crossing each
other in a lozenge pattern. " This," he continued, " is a close mat with a sennit centre,"
pointing to one with an open-work pattern in the middle of it. Indeed, in the different
patterns around, we could recognize all the various kinds of mats which ornament the halls
and passages of the Metropolis.
One of the boys was working at a stand fitted up with immense reels of crimson worsted,
pulling off the threads so rapidly that the frayed edges threw out a bright-coloured smoke,
which powdered his shoulders and the ground around as if the reflection of a painted window
had fallen there. With this showy worsted the edges of the better kioda of mats are orna¬
mented. The rug manufactory constitutes the fine arts department of the prison mat-room.
The overseer, anxious that we should see specimens of the work, called to a man who was
clipping down the rough crop of a newly-made door-mat into a smooth lawn of fibre, and
desired him to spread out some of the rolled-up rugs before us. " This one," explained the
overseer, as we were looking at the rude design of a rose as large as a red cabbage, " is a
cheap article, made mostly out of yam ; but here is the best style of goods we make," and
another rug was spread out, with a full length tiger worked upon it.
*#* Artisan Frisoners,—Printing, tailoring, shoemaking, and mat-making are not the
only crafts which the prisoners are permitted to foUow in Coldbath Fields. The whitewash
on the walls has been laid on by prison plasterers ; many parts of the prison have been erected
by prison bricklayers and masons ; the wood and iron work receives its aonnnl coat of colour
from prison painters ; and even the tin mugs, out of which the men take their gruel, are manu¬
factured by prison tinmen. This is as it ought to be ; and the only pity is, that there are
less degrading occupations pursued among men who need elevating influences more than any
318
THE GEEÁT WOELD OF LOKDON.
other class of persons. "We print a list of the handicrafts pursued in the prison, and append
the price at which the labour is estimated in the prison books, where it is reckoned as so
much profit to the jail, from its saving the necessity of employing and paying for out-door
labour.
Tuade.
Bricklayers.
Plasterers.
Masons.
Painters.
Tbade.
Plumbers.
Glaziers.
Sawyers.
Coopers.
Tbade.
Tinmen.
Blacksmiths.
Upholsterers.
Tra.de.
Bookbinders.
Basket-makers.
Carpenters.
All men, employed at the above trades, are charged for at the rate of 5s. per diem.
Gardeners, working in the garden, are reckoned at the rate of 2s. per diem; and labourers,
employed in the works, at the rate of Is. per diem.
Number of Artificers (other than tailors, shoemakers, and mat-makers)
employed throughout the prison . . . .25
„ Gardeners „ ,, ... 5
,, Labourers ,, ,, ... 18
Total
48
Some of the valuations of the prison labour appear to us to be somewhat high—^for
instance, we doubt whether many working basket-makers or sawyers ever receive, when free,
as much as 5s. for their day's work.
Now, the estimate for the labour of the prisoners at the Hulks (see p. 203) amounts in
the aggregate to only about one-third of the price charged at Coldbath Fields. For instance,
the labour of carpenters, blacksmiths, painters, plumbers, and coopers, among the convicts at
"Woolwich, is valued at 2s. 6d., or exactly one-half of that set down at the House of Cor¬
rection ; whilst that of shoemakers, tailors, washers, and cooks is reckoned at Is. 6d. instead
of 5s. Hence, either the Hulks are too low, or the House of Correction is too high, in its
appraisement, for between them is a difference of 50 and 75 per cent, in the amount
charged. Besides, it should be remembered that the greater proportion of the artisans
employed in jails are unskilled men ; and it is most unfair that one, who is but learning
his trade, should be charged for at prices equivalent to that demanded by tiie quickest and
most experienced hands.
Therefore, calculating the labour at Coldbath Fields at the same value as the Hulks
(and, from its being a " short-term " prison, the labour at the House of Correction cannot be
even of the same value), the " estimated profit of work or labour done by the prisoners for
the benefit of the county, city, or borough," which, in the return of the House of Correction,
is valued at £4,320 12«. 8d., ought, at the very least, to be reduced one-half, or to
£2,160 6s. 4Í., and so the cost of the management of the prison should be raised from
£16,466 2«. 5d., to the more formidable sum of £18,626 8s. 2d.
We were told that it was very rarely that working bookbinders came to the prison.
This, probably, may be owing to the fact that a large proportion of that kind of labour is
now performed by women ; and as the House of Correction at Coldbath Fields no longer
receives female prisoners, such operatives seldom come within the walls. We congratulate
the male portion of the working hookbinders, however, upon this high testimony to their
honour and principle.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
319
Ed/ueation md BeUgiom Instruction of the Prisoners.
\* The School-room.—As we were standing at the entrance of the felons' prison, a
gentleman passed us dressed in black, and carrying under his arm a roU of what, from
the marbled-paper coverings, were evidently copy-books. We instinctively asked if he were
not the schoolmaster, and learnt that he was then on his rounds to collect together his
class. The school hours commence at half-past seven in the morning, and end at half-past five
in the evening. Each class consists of twenty-four scholars, and these are changed every
hour. AR the prisoners who are unable to read and write are forced to submit to instruction.
We directed our steps to the westward portion of the main prison, where, in a kind of
outbuilding, the classes are held.
The prison school-room is about the size of an artist's studio, being large enough to admit
of twelve desks, arranged in four rows in front of the open space where the master's rostrum
is placed. Each desk is sufficient for three scholars, but, to prevent talking, only two are
aRowed, one at each end, the middle place being kept vacant.
In ordinary schools the desks are notehed and carved with names and initials, or covered
aR over with writings and drawings ; but in this felon academy they were as white and free
from ink or incisions as the top of a butterman's counter. Even the circle of Rttle black
dots around the ink holes were of that morning's sprinkling.
Against the whitewashed waRs were hung maps as big as the sheets of plate-glass in a
linen-draper's window, and the varnish of these had turned yeRow as an old blanket, so that
although we knew the two circles, joined in the centre Rke an hour-glass, to be the chart of
the World, and the triangular-shaped one to be England and Wales, yet we were obRged to
go up close to another before we could read through the discoloured glazing that it was the
Holy Land. Over the master's raised chair was an immense black board, with the letters of
the alphabet painted in white upon it; whRst, to impress upon the " scholars" the necessity
to be tidy, a printed maxim is hung between the windows, to the foRowing effect:—"A
Place foe Eveetthino and EvEEvraiNa in its Place."
Presently the pupRs entered, in a long line, headed by the master. Each prisoner
seemed to know his seat, for he went there as readüy as a horse to his staR. AR was sRent
as in a dumb asylum, the only sound being the rustling of the copy-books on their being
distributed. A few minutes afterwards aR the "pupRs" were leaning over the desks,
squaring out their elbows in every variety of position—some with their tongues poked out at
the corner of the mouth, and others frowning with their endeavours to write weR.
It was a curious sight to see these men with big whiskers, learning the simple instruction
of a vRlage school. Some of them with their large fingers cramped up in the awkward¬
ness of first lessons ; others wabbling their heavy heads about as they laboured over the
huge half-inch letters in their clumsy scrawl.
The schoolmaster is assisted in his duties by two prisoners, who, by their proficiency
and good conduct, have been raised to the position of hearers—and to them the scholars repeat
their lessons. A big saRor-looking man, with red whiskers growing under his chin, advanced
to the hearer's desk. Not a word was spoken as the copy-book was handed ia. The prison-
tutor pointed in silence to a mistake, the pupR nodded, and, on another signal, began to
read aloud what he had written, " Give to every mm that asheth, and of him that taheih emay
thy goods ash him not agam,"
Another—a lad with a bandage round his face, and heavy, dingy-coloured eyes was
sent back for having too many blots and erasures. This man, when repeating his lessons
stumbled over the sentence, " There shaR be wailing and gnaabing of teeth," calling it
" genashing" instead.
320
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
Once the head master had occasion to speak. A lad with ruddy skin, and light hair,
had a defect in his speech, and could not pronounce his " r's," so that he read out, " What¬
soever is wight that shall ye weceive." " Do try and pronounce your ' r's ' better," said
the master, kindly ; and thereupon there was a shuffling of feet from the other pupils, at
if the only method of laughing under the silent system was with the shoes.
The books—of which there are three—from which the prisoners are taught are all
printed and bound by prisoner workmen in the jail. In the first book the lessons are of the
simplest form, beginning with the letters of the alphabet, then gradually comprising letters
and words mixed up together, and concluding with short sentences. In the second lesson
book one of the objects of the instruction is to make the pupils, by means of nonsense
sentences, pay attention to the copy before them, for they are apt to read, we were told, only
the commencement of a sentence, and jump at the meaning of the remaining portion.
Accordingly these lessons are made into kinds of puzzles, like the following :—" train save
thirst ring train thou shall soap save train pick thou." The third book contains lessons from
the gospels ; and by the time the scholar is able to copy out and read those correctly, his
education, as far as the prison limit of reading and writing is concerned, is supposed to be
completed.*
*#* Chapel.—The chapel is situate immediately over the entrance haU of the main or
felons' prison. It is a kite-shaped, triangular building, seeming as if it were some spare
comer of the prison that had been devoted to the purpose; the clergyman's place—for you
can hardly call the little desk and arm-chair set apart for the minister a pulpit—being in
a kind of small gallery at the apex of the triangle, and the seats for the prisoners below
towards the base. Reckoning the seats in the gallery and on the ground, there is room for
about 500 men.
The chapel is certainly a primitive and curious building. There are three compartments
* table showing the state of instruction op the prisoners in coldbath fields prison, for
the year ending michaelmas, 1855.
Can nsither read nor write . . . 2,172 Can read and write well ... —
Can read only ...... 395 Superior education . . . . —
Can read or write, or both, imperfectly . 3,556
Total 6,123
" An average of 144 prisoners," says the last annual report of the chaplains, " are daily under instruc¬
tion and of 309 who passed through the school during the year, the state of instruction on admission and
discharge, respectively, is represented in the following table :—
On Admission.
On Discharge.
Statb op Educatzox of Pbzsoners.
Total.
Neither
read nor
write.
Read
iraper.
fectly.
Read
and
write
imper¬
fectly.
Bead
and
write
toler¬
ably.
Read
and
write
weU.
Total.
Number that could neither read nor write .
„ „ read imperfectly .
„ „ read and write imperfectly .
„ „ read and write tolerably
52
138
111
8
12
18
22
17
54
16
5
42
42
2
20
51
6
52
138
m
8
Total
309
12
40
87
91
77
309
Table showing the ages of the prisoners in coldbath fields prison, for the year
ending michaelmas, 1855.
45 years and under 60 . . .
Under 17 years of age
17 years and under 21
21 „ „ 30
30 „ „ 45
1,682
2,155
1,499
60 years and upwards
Total
Proportion under 30 years of age .
Proportion 30 years and upwards
62'6 per cent.
37-3 „
631
156
6,123
DORMITORY AT COLDBATH FIELDS PRISON.
HOÏÏSE OF COERECTION', COLDBATH FIELDS.
321
on the ground-floor, and three in the gallery, separated from each other by a tall, strong,
wooden partition, so that each storey presents somewhat the appearance of a huge three-
stalled stable. Instead of panelling in front of the men, as in other chapels, stout iron bars
rise up, close set together, such as would be placed before an elephant's cage.
The governor, in lieu of a pew, has a comfortable arm-chair placed in the gallery, on
one side of the chaplain's desk, and another row of arm-chairs is arranged as tidily as
against a drawing-room wall, to receive visitors and the principal warders. Immediately
under the gallery, on the ground-floor, is the communion-table, and on one side of it hangs
a notice-board, stating that "Communicants desieous of paetakinu of the Saceament"
must give due notice to the clergyman.
On entering the chapel, in company with the governor, we found the felon congregation
already assembled, each cage being as closely packed with men as the gallery of a cheap
theatre. On one side of the dirty-gray mass of prisoners, stood up the dark-uniformed
warder. All the men had their caps off, showing eveiy variety of coloured hair. There
was one man, a big square-shouldered negro, whose white eyes, as he rolled them about,
seemed like specks of light shining through holes in his dark skin ; and we also observed a
Malay, with his slanting eyes and dried mummy skin, whose long, straight hair hung from
his pointed skuU like the tassel on a fez. Hearly all the congregation appeared to be youths,
for we could only here and there distinguish a bald or white head. Some of these elderly
sinners had spectacles on, and were busily hunting out in their Bible the lessons to be read
that day. The building was silent as a criminal court when sentence is being passed.
When the prayer was ended, a sudden shout of "Amen " filled the building, so loud and
instantaneous, that it made us turn round in our chair with surprise ; the 600 tongues had
been for a moment released from their captivity of silence, and the enjo3rment of the privi¬
lege was evinced by its noisiness. It was wonderful to watch the men as they made their
responses. No opera chorus could have kept better time. The chaplain's voice, as it read
the next line, appeared like a weak whisper, so deadened was the ear ; but in a little while
we began to grow accustomed to the discharges of sound. We could see, too, that the men
took pleasure in their prayers. Wliether they understood the true meaning of the words they
uttered we cannot tell, but they knew the drill of the service as perfectly as a parish clerk,
and appeared to be aware that the only time when they might raise their voices and break
through the dumbness man had imposed upon them, was when they were addressing their
God, so that to them the consolation of prayer must be especially great.
One of the lessons of the day was the 7th chapter of St. Luke, and to it the prisoners
listened with the earnestness of children hearing a story. As soon as the chapter was given
out, some of the men opened their Bibles, and, wetting their thumbs, turned the leaves over
rapidly as they sought for the page ; others at first sat still, but as the clergjrman pro¬
gressed, their interest became aroused, and they leant their bodies forward, some resting
their heads on their hands, others with their ears turned towards the make-shift pulpit as if
to catch every sentence of the sacred history.
The first passage that appeared to fix their attention was that describing how the
widow's only son was restored to life. Probably, many of them had never before heard of
the miracle, for as the words were spoken, " Young man, I say unto thee, arise !" a kind of
wondering fear seemed to agitate the felons, as of old it did the men of Nain. The congre¬
gation was greatly interested as it listened to how a woman in the city, " which was a
sinner," brought an alabaster box of ointment and anointed the Saviour's feet, as he sat
at meat in the Pharisee's house. It seemed to us that they could hardly comprehend the
motive which prompted her " to wash his feet with tears," and wipe them with the hair of
her head and kiss them, and they appeared to be expecting to hear of some great reward
having been given to her.
"When the morning service had ended, the erring flock, under the guidance of the
23^
322
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOK.
■warders, left their pews in the chapel, and in a few moments afterwards were occupied -vñth
their different prison duties.
On Sunday all the men are taken to divine service once a day, part in the morning and
the remainder in the afternoon; for the chapel in the felons' prison contains only 507 sittings,
and that in the misdemeanants' prison but 274 ; and as the usual number of prisoners m
the entire building is seldom below 1,300, of course only half of that number can attend
service at one time. Those who are left behind are not, however, allowed to remain -without
religious instruction. Three men in each yard have been appointed by the chaplain to read
aloud to their fellow-prisoners, and each relieves the other every half-hour. The book for
the Sunday's reading is issued by the chaplain. It is of a purely religious character, and is
usually " The Penny Sunday Reader," containing short sermons. Tracts are also distributed
in the different yards, so that those who prefer reading to themselves, instead of listening to
what is being read aloud, may do so.
The governor informed us that this reading aloud is so much liked by the prisoners, that
it is not an unfrequent occurrence for boys who, for some breach of the prison discipline,
have been placed in soKtary confinement, to send him a request to be allowed to be present
in their yards whilst the reading is going on. Surely this excellent principle of reading
aloud to the prisoners might be applied on a week-day, in the oakum-picking room at least»
and the silent system be thereby made productive of some positive good.*
If i-i-
The Prison Accommodation, Cells, md Dormitories.
The extent of accommodation at Coldbath Fields prison has already been mentioned (at
page 281). The prison is capable of holding, altogether, 1,453 persons, and 919 (or, as at
TothiU Fields, not quite two-thirds of the whole) of these can be accommodated -with sepa¬
rate sleeping cells. The daily average number of prisoners in the year ending Michaelmas,
1855, was 1,388, while the greatest number at any one time during that year was 1,495 ; so
that occasionally the prison contains three per cent, more than it has proper aecommodation
for. The gross prison population, i.e., the number of different individuals who were confined
•within the walls in the same year, amounted to 9,180; of these, 1,437 were remaining in
custody at the end of the previous year, and the other 7,743 "passed through" the
prison in the course of that ending Michaelmas, 1855.
*** Cells.—^As regards the " separate sleeping ceUs," of which we have seen there are
919 altogether, they differ in size in each of the three different prisons, which make up
the entire House of Correction. The largest are to be found in the old building, erected
• The greater proportion of the books given out to the prisoners are those published by the " Christian
Knowledge Society." The following is a list of some of the other volumes circulated in the prison :—
Chambers's Miscellaneous Tracts, in volumes.
The Home Friend, in volumes.
The Leisure Hour, „
Knighf s Shilling Volumes.
Travels by Laud and Sea.
A number of small Biographical Works.
History of England.
The Library consists of—Bibles .... 1,290
Prayer Books . . 1,290
Other volumes . . 1,330
History of Ireland.
„ Scotland.
„ France.
Histories of various other countries.
Lives of the Beformers.
Works of the Beformers.
A variety of Tracts and purely Beligious Books.
HOÏÏSE OF COEKECTIGIÍ, COLDBATH FIELDS.
323
in. 1794, and now sèt apart for felons ; next in space come those appropriated to the vagrants,
built in 1830; and the smallest ones are those situate in the misdemeanant's prison, con¬
structed in 1832. We shall describe the cells we visited in the felons' prison, for these may¬
be considered as the best form of the separate sleeping apartments in the entire establishment.
The cells are situate in the wings and corridors, on the first and second floors of the
building, as well as on one side of all the eight exercising yards. The entrance to each cell
is guarded by a narrow door, solid as that of a fire-proof deed-box, and just -wide enough to
allow a man to enter, whilst hea-vy bars and bolts make the fastenings secure. Every one of
them is eight feet two inches long by six feet two inches broad, and has an arched groined
roof springing firom the sides, at an elevation of six feet, until it attains its highest pitch of
ten feet. If it were not for the height of the apartment, the chamber would be about the
size of an ordinary coal-cellar.
The walls and roof are brilliant with whitewash, so that one could almost imagine the
cell to have been dug out of some chalk cliff, and the stone flooring has been holy-stoned
until it is as clean as the door-step of a " servants' home." Fastened up to hooks set in the
stone-work, and stretching across at the farthest end, is the hammock of cocoa-nut fibre,
brown and bending as a strip of mahogany veneer, with the bed-clothes folded up in the
counterpane rug, tightly as a carpet-bag. Hanging up against the wall are boards, on which
are pasted printed forms of the morning and evening prayer, as weU as "A few Texts
feom the Bible," which latter paper has been compiled, we believe, by the governor
himself—ever earnest in his efforts to effect the religious reformation of the criminals under
his charge. A wooden stool completes the furniture of the cell.
Over the door is a fanlight -window, glazed inside, and protected -without by hea-vy cross¬
bars. In some of the cells another grated opening is let into the back wall.
As we entered the cell it felt chilly as a dairy, so we asked the warder if it were not
cold. "Hot at aU," was the answer. "In summer the men Hke being in the cells, in winter
they prefer the dormitories." This desire on the part of the prisoners to quit the cells in
■winter, induced us to inquire whether, during the cold weather, the building were not heated
by hot air or hot water-pipes. We were much startled to find that no such attention had been
sho-wn to the necessities of the -wretched inmates. Again, seeing that no arrangements had
been made for lighting the apartment with gas, we asked how the men managed for light in
■winter when, long before the locking-up time, the night has set in, and it is perfectly dark
at the time of their entering the cells. We were informed that the men in the separate cells
went to bed, although in the dormitories, where gas exists, they are allowed to remain
reading until ten o'clock. Again, we foimd that no provision had been made to enable a
prisoner to call for assistance in case he was taken ill during the night, and that his only
chance of help under such circumstances, depended upon his ability to make sufficient noise
to attract attention. Further, the ventilation of the chamber was most imperfect.
How, it does not require many lines to point out the defective condition of such places.
It was not the object of the law which condemned these crimináis to lose their liberty, that
they should be deprived hkewise of warmth, hght, assistance in sickness, and pure air. If their
sins against society require that they should be shut out from the fellowship of the world, it
forms no part of their sentence that they should suffer also the colds of -winter—that if
suddenly afflicted or attacked by a fit (such as we have detailed as occurring in the oakum-
room, accidents, we were told, that are in no way of r(tre occurrence), they should have no
means of invoking immediate assistance, or that, in order to obtain air fit to breathe, they
should be forced to nm the risk of an open window afflicting them -with influenza or catarrh.
Why should books be given out and yet gas-light denied to those in separate cells, especially
when, in the dormitories, their no less culpable, but more fortunate, companions in guilt
are passing their time in perusing some volume ?
By the 2nd and 3rd Yictoria, cap. 56, it is enacted that no cell shall be used for separate
321
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
conftnement whicR is not of sucli a size, and lighted, warmed, ventilated, and fitted up in
such a manner, as may be required by a Aw regard to health, and furnished with the means of
enabling the prisoner to communicate at any time with an officer of the prison. Yet, because
at Coldbath Eields the prison is conducted on the silent system, and the inmate is separately
confined for only twelve instead of twenty-four hours of the day, the Act does not affect the
matter ; and a ceU which belonged to the barbarous prison times of the past century, which
affords a shelter scarcely superior to that of a coal-cellar, is appointed as the sleeping-place
of a man who may have to pass three years of his existence within it. Either the cells at
Pentonville are wantonly luxurious, or those at Coldbath Eields disgracefully defective.
But if the cells in the old prison, built in 1794, are bad, what excuse can be made for the
negligent humanity which permitted those in the more modern buildings erected in 1830,
and set apart for the vagrants and misdemeanants, not only to be planned after the old
model, but also to be made smaller by several inches in length as well as breadth. In the
more primitive felons' jail one might expect to meet with defective arrangements; but in a
comparatively modem building it is shocking to find that even a less enlightened scale of
accommodation has been adopted.*
The prison authorities assert that the ventilation of the cells is sufficient and healthy.
They point triumphantly to the extremely sanitary condition of the prison—the healthiest
in London they say. In answer to this we urge that the House of Correction is a short-
sentence prison, where offenders are sent for terms averaging from three days to three years,
and the returns do not admit of its being compared as to its daily average amount of sichness
with that of other prisons. From the prison returns for the year 1855, we learn that out
of the 7,743 prisoners committed to Coldbath Fields during the twelve months, 1,796 were
for terms under fourteen days—1,424 for terms under one month—2,342 for terms under
three months, and 974 for less than six months.' These form a total of 6,536 prisoners for
terms ranging from seven days to less than six months, and there remain only 1,207 for
the longer sentences-!
The prisoners are locked up for twelve hours out of the twenty-four. We wiU, for the
* The folloving table containa the number of cubic feet of air contained in the different sized cells of
the House of Correction :—
In the old or Felons' prison . . . . . €02
In the Misdemeanants' prison . ... 337
In the Vagrants' prison 375
tVhUst the amount of air contained in a cell of the Model Prison at Pentonrille amounts to 911 cubic feet.
t TABLE SHOWmO THE TEBMS OF IMPRISONMENT OF THE PRISONERS CONFINED IN COLDBATH FIELDS
PRISON IN THE COURSE OF THE YEAR ENDING MICHAELMAS, 1855.
Sentences.
Under
Summary
ConvicHoa
After
Trial.
Total.
Per
Centage
Under 14 days
14 days, and under 1 month ....
1 month, and under 2 months ....
2 months, and under 3 months ....
3 months, and under 6 months .
6 months, and under 1 year ....
1 year, and under 2 years ....
2 years, and under 3 years ....
3 years, and upwards .....
Unlimited terms of imprisonment
Transferred to other governors ....
Whipped, fined, or discharged on sureties .
Sentence deferred ....
1,786
1,414
1,630
660
538
95
10
10
14
38
436
633
282
20
177
1,796
1,424
1,644
698
974
728
282
20
177
23
21
19
9
12
9
4
0-2
2
Total
6,123
1,620
7,743
99-2
HOUSE GE COEEECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
325
sake of the argument, suppose it to be winter time, when the windows are all closed to increase
the warmth. The closely-shut cell in the felon prison contains 502 cubic feet of air. A man
breathes about twenty times in a minute, inhaling about eighteen pints of air in that time ;
or, reducing the calculation to cubic feet, we may say he consumes about sixty cubic feet
of air in the twelve hours, evolving in the same period twelve cubic feet of carbonic acid gas.
Now, carbonic acid gas is an extremely noxious poison—^indeed, one measure of it mixed with
fine of the atmosphere, is fatal to life. Even when present in very minute quantities, it is
highly injurious to health. Professor Brande tells us that, " when so far diluted with air as
to admit of being received into the lungs, it operates as a narcotic poison, producing drowsi¬
ness and insensibility." And farther on he adds—" "When the gas is inspired in the lowest
poisonous proportion, the symptoms come on very gradually, and the transition from life to
death is usually tranquil; this is what we leam from the history of suicides."
The scientific gentlemen appointed to report upon what should be the size of the sepa¬
rate cells at Pentonvüle prison decided that the health of the inmate required at least
911 cubic feet of air, and, even with this capacity, it was formd necessary to alter the
ventilation, so that perfeet health might be maintained. Now, is it not unjust that men
ordered to perform " hard labour" should be doomed to pass twelve hours of the day in
an atmosphere which produces "drowsiness and insensibility," and so unfits them for
their work ?
We were likewise assured that even the cold of a winter's night, passed in a stone-walled
and paved cell, so far from being injurious to the inmates, is, on the contrary, invigorating
and healthy. A man leaving a warmed apartment, we were reminded, is very liable to
catch cold, and the warders themselves say that they never suffer so much from the cold as
after leaving a fire.
That the prisoners themselves feel the chilliness of the cells acutely is proved by their
stopping up with their clothes the cracks and openings of the doors. Some time since,
during a severe winter, a man perished in his cell—it was thought, from cold. Cold forms no
portion of the prisoner's sentence ; and until it does, the air in the stone cells of Coldbath
Fields prison should be raised above freezing point. Moreover, the surgeon's printed report
tells us that seventeen deaths out of the twenty-nine, or more than 58 per cent, of those
which occurred in the course of last year, are recorded to have been " labouring under various
affections of the substance of the lungs and bronchial passages in plain English, to have
died from the effects of cold.*
The prison authorities themselves do not offer a word of excuse for not lighting up the
cells. In winter it is dark when the men are locked up in them, and it is dark when they rise,
BO that twelve hours are passed in total obscurity. Even some of the cells in the galleries are
in summer so obscure that it is impossible to distinguish anything in them beyond the white¬
washed walls. Again we say, why give the men books, if the only time when it is possible
to read them is to be passed in darkness? We should see the absurdity of presenting a
* TABLE BHCWIXa THE NVMBEB OP CASES OP SICKNESS, LUNACY, AND DEATH, IN THE COUBSE
OF THE YEAR ENDING MICHAELMAS, 1855.
Slight indisposition 1,916 Lunatics 4
Infirmary Cases 131 Pardons on medical grounds . . . .15
Deaths 29
Total 2,047 Greatest number of sick at any time . . 62
Daily average number of sick . . mt given
Of the twenty-nine who died, seventeen are recorded, says the surgeon's report, as having laboured under
the various affections of the substance of the lungs and the bronchial passages. " Amongst the great variety
of complaints," it is added, " boils of a carbuncular form have been very prevalent, and numerous abscesses
have occurred. The number of these cases has been singularly great this year, amounting to 209, some of a
very formidable character, and one proving fatal. Of feigned complaints fiie number has been considerable
8,972,"—Jfr. WatceJUldte Report to the Jtuticeefor the Comtg,
326
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
library to a blind scbool; and yet is not this instance somewhat parallel? Confining a
rebellious prisoner in a dark cell forms the greatest punishment the governor has power
to inflict, and yet to lock up unoffending prisoners in an unlighted chamber for twelve hours
daily is the ordinary routine of this prison.*
As regards the defective arrangements for enabling the prisoners to call for assistance, if
attacked by sickness in the night, we were told that a watchman patrols each prison,
visiting every yard once in the half horn-. Nevertheless, the fact of several sudden deaths
having occurred in the cells demands, in our opinion, some such arrangements as exist at
PentonviUe.
It appears, however, that there is every probability of the prison being pulled down, a
railway company, whose line is to pass through the building, having imdertaken to erect
another prison in lieu of the existing one.
In conclusion, however, we should remind the reader that the defects here pointed out
are defects of the old school of prison economy, and evidence rather as to the slight regard
that was paid even to the physical necessities of prisoners only a few years ago, than as to
any dereliction of duty on the part of the present authorities. It is easy to rebuild jaUs
after the very best model—lopon paper ; but not quite so easy for visiting justices to make
improvements in them out of a limited county-rate ; and let us in fairness add, that every
exertion is used by the present governor to render the House of Correction at Coldbath Fields
as commodious and salutary as possible imder the circumstances.
*^ji* Dormitoriee.—By the aid of spacious sleeping-rooms the felons' prison, which contains
only 356 cells, is made to accommodate 889 prisoners. There are altogether five such
apartments at Coldbath Fields, all situate in the old portion of the buüding, and built on the
same plan, the smallest capable of making up 82 beds, the largest 101.
The dormitories are eighty-three feet in length, and twenty-five feet broad ; and if the
pointed roofs, with their grained tie-beams, were more lofty, they would do very well for
rude chapels. At one end are the lavatories, made out of slate, with a porcelain basin
let into each of the ten divisions, the bright brass button showing that water is continuaEy
laid on.
The manner in which the hammocks are arranged is ingenious enough, for every inch of
space is taken advantage of. Four stout iron bars, resting on supports a foot from the floor,
run along the entire length of the building, the first next the passage, like a long thick
curtain-rod just above the groimd, and the others ranged at a distance of six feet from each
other. To these bars the hammocks are suspended, so that three rows are obtained, while a
passage of some five feet wide along one side of the room is stiU left for the warders to patrol
up and down during the night.
During the day-time, when the bed-clothes are folded up into a close bundle, and the
brown cocoa-nut fibre of the hammocks is visible, the rows of tightly-stretched beds attached
at either end to the long iron bars seem interminable. They form a kind of raised plat¬
form, gradually slanting upwards to the wall, as if they were so many sacks that had been
carelessly laid across the rails.
Here, banging against the wall, is a line of printed forms of the morning and evening
prayers, ranged like the slates in a school-room.
The men lie with their heads to each other's feet, and, being near the ground, the
warders, on their raised stools, can command a bird's-eye view of all the sleepers. The
• In the year 1850 the Committee on Prison Discipline reported as follows :—" That in regard to some of
the details of discipline which have been brought before them, this Committee recommends that the means
of lighting every cell (except cells for an infractien of prison rules) should be provided in every prison, and
that no pritoner thould be left in darkness for more than a maximum time, which can be required for rest, viz.,
eight hours.
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
327
sides of the hammocks curl round the prisoners' forms, so that they look like so many
mummies ranged along three deep.
We paid a night visit to these dormitories, and the sight was most curious. When we
reached the prison it was past eight o'clock, and aU the prisoners were locked up in their
cells, so that the building appeared deserted. The only warder we met was in the crypt¬
like corridor, and he wore over his boots slippers of flannel, gliding in and out of the
columns noiselessly as a spectre. Though it was yet day-light, we could hear, as we passed
the different cells, the heavy snoring or the restless tossing of the inmates.
When we reached the dormitory, the appearance of the place had curiously changed
since the morning. The men were nearly all lying down, some asleep, others stretched
out on their backs, staring up at the timber roof, and all were covered over with their
brown-red rugs. So BÜent was the room, it seemed like an immense dead-house—as if we
had entered some huge " morgue," where some hundred corpses were laid out on the floor
before us.
Some of the men were sleeping with their clothes on, and as if they had thrown themselves
down tired with the day's "hard labour others, with their forms curled up till the knees
nearly touched the chest, had stowed themselves away for the night, for under the head was
the pillow of roUed-up clothes.
We had expected to find some of the prisoners sitting up in their hanunocks reading ;
but, although it was broad day-light, not one had a book in his hand—^tiie men being,
probably, too tired with their day's work to care for anything but rest.
As the evening progressed, some of the prisoners, who had been dozing with their
clothes on, seemed to wake up and become aware that they had better prepare for the night's
rest. So they got up slowly, like persons half-asleep, and began to undress themselves. It
was a relief to see a human being stirring, for it proved that life existed in the prostrate
crowd before us.
Close to where the warders sat were two rings of gas burning beneath tin pots, from
which issued the curling steam of the coffee allowed for the officers' refreshment through
the night.
It has been asserted that a great deal of conversation is carried on between the prisoners
in these dormitories as the men lie huddled there together. We certainly did not hear any
talking, and the place was as still as a church in the night ; the heads of the prisoners,
however, are within a foot of each other, and the ear is hardly to be relied on in such a case ;
for it may be easily deluded by the lowness of the whisper, so that the matter resolves
itself into a trial of skill between the quickness of the warder, and the cunning of the
prisoner.
As we peeped, at a later hour, through the little inspection-hole in the closed door of
the dormitory, we bould see those who were conversing together. One of the men
was lying flat on his back, with his handkerchief raised to his mouth, and though the eye
on the side towards the warder was shut as if in sleep, the other one was wide open, and
kept on winking at his apparently slumbering neighbour, in a manner which showed that
the two men were having a nice quiet chat together. The two warders, however, were not
near enough to hear this infringement of the rule, and had we ourselves not advanced very
silently to the inspection-hole, we probably should also have been deprived of the chance of
witnessing it. There can, indeed, be no doubt that it is utterly absurd in a prison conducted
on the silent system, with the special view of avoiding intercourse among the criminals, to
herd together a hundred such men, and place them in exactly that position which is the
most ffivourable for intercommunion.
The ventilation of these immense buildings is of that primitive kind which consists
of a hole made in the wall near the top of the roof. When the gas is lighted, and the place
becomes heated, a current of air is doubtlessly established; but that the foul atmosphere is not
328
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDON".
entirely removed is proved by the discretionary power vested in the night-warders, to open
one of the windows whenever they perceive, by the " closeness" of the room, that the air,
despite the openings near the ceiling, has become offensive with the exhalations of the
hundred sleepers.
OS the Silent System.
The discipline followed at Coldbath Eields becomes an interesting study, from the fact
that it is considered as the type of that form of prison government which is distinguished by
the name of the " silent associated system."
We have purposely avoided offering any remarks upon the efficiency of this mode of
discipline at other institutions—as, for instance, at Millbank and Brixton prisons—because
we were desirous, before hazarding our opinion, of noting its operation at that establishment
where aU allow it is to be seen in its greatest force.*
We have before said, it is almost self-evident that every system of prison discipline, so
far as it affects the liberty of communication among prisoners, must be either (1) asso¬
ciative, (2) separative, or (3) mixed.
1. Of the assoeiative form of discipline there are two widely distinct varieties—
a. Prisoners may be allowed to associate indiscriminately, and to indulge in unre¬
strained intereourse one with the other.
b. Prisoners, though aRowed to associate, may be made to labour as well as to
exercise, and take their meals in perfect silence.
2- The separative form has likewise two subdivisions—
a. The pa/rtially separate, which consists in dividing the body of prisoners into
classes, or groups, according to their crimes, ages, or characters, and so keeping
the more desperate and hardened offenders apart from the more inexperienced
and hopeful.
h. The entirely sepa¡rate, which consists in secluding every prisoner individmllp
from the others, and so putting an end to all intercourse among them, by the
positive isolation of each from the rest.
3. As regards the mixed form, there is but one order—
Prisoners may be placed in separation for a certain term, by way of "probation"
(as it is called), and then put to work in association under the silent system.
The two great experiments, which have of late years been tried in this country, with a
view to prevent the further corruption of the inmates of our prisons, are the separate system
practised at Pentonville, and the silent associated system pursued at Coldbath Fields.
The separate system was introduced at the former institution in the year 1842. The
silent associated system at the latter in 1834.
That these two systems are each an eminent improvement upon the old classified system
of our prisons, and more particularly upon that more ancient system of indiscriminate inter¬
course among criminals, and both instituted with the kindest possible intentions towards
the criminals themselves, none that are open to reason can for a moment doubt.
The two systems, however, differ essentiaRy, even in their objects. The sRent system
* " The best example of the silent system," said Colonel Jebb, in his evidence before the Committee on
Prison Discipline, " would, I think, be found in Coldbath Fields or Westminster Bridewell."
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
329
seeks to put an end to the contamination of prisoners by stopping all ¿wíer-communion
among them. The separate system seeks not only to do this, hut at the same time to bring
about the reformation of the prisoners by inducing ae^-communion. The one endeavours to
attain a négative good by checking a capital evil, and the other to work a positive good, in
addition to the negative one.
The two systems again differ in their requirements. That which seeks to compass its
end by the individual separation of the prisoners demands, of course, a peculiarly built and
specially commodious institution (since it is one of the essential conditions of that system
that each prisoner shall be provided with a cell to himself, and such cell must necessarily be
of far greater capacity than an ordinary sleeping chamber, as it is required to form at
once the work-shop of the man by day and his bed-room by night). The silent system,
however (though, in its integrity, it exacts a separate sleeping cell for each prisoner*),
may—^by the aid of large dormitories, tended with the most active supervision during
the night, as well as by the addition of spacious work-rooms, wherein the men can
labour in association during the day—be applied to old prisons, even where the cells
are not only too few in number, but too small in size for the requirements of the separate
system.
Hence we find that new prisons are generally constructed on the separate plan, whilst in
old ones the silent associated form of discipline is usually adopted, the latter circumstance
being due partly to that widely-prevailing disposition to cobble and patch up some old worn-
out thing, so that it may serve as a make-shift for an office it never was fitted for, rather
than be at the expense and trouble of providing a new one, specially adapted to the object
in view.
That the separate system attains the same end as, and far more effectually than, the
silent system, there can be no doubt, since the smest mode of preventing intercom¬
munion in jails is to prevent the association of the prisoners. To construct a building, how¬
ever, with a separate cell for each inmate that it is intended to accommodate is likely to be
considerably more expensive than the erection of one with large dormitories and associated
work-rooms. (Each cell at Pentonville, by-the-bye, cost upon an average £150, whereas the
expense of building the old prison at Coldbath Fields averaged not less than £283 per cell.)
Nevertheless, in a prison conducted upon the silent associated system, the extra sum
required to be paid aimually in salaries to warders, so as to ensure that thorough supervision
of the prisoners, which is so necessary for the due carrying out of this form of prison
government, increases the continual cost of management so far beyond that of one
maintained on the " separate" plan, as to render the latter much more desirable even in an
economical point of view. For instance, we have before shown that, according to the
returns, there is 1 warder at Pentonvüle to superintend every 17 prisoners, whereas, at
Coldbath Fields, 1 warder is required to superintend every 13 prisoners; so that at the
former establishment each warder can watch over upwards of 30 per cent, more persons
than he can at the latter one.
It would hardly require a moment's deliberation, therefore, in order to decide as to
which is the preferable of these two modes of prison government,! were it not that the
• " Under the silent system, properly worked out," said the Inspector-General of Prisons, before the Par¬
liamentary Committee on Prison Discipline, " the prisoner would have a separate sleeping-cell, though the
classiflcation of the 4th of George IV. might in some degree he put aside. The prisoners can be assembled
together in large numbers under that system, hut, whilst they are so assembled, they are under the
strictest supervision and control, and are employed in varioiis industrial occupations or at hard labour on the
tread-mill."
t Mr. Chesterton, in his book upon " Prison Life," while arguing against the effeets of the separate sys¬
tem, cites, with peculiar paralogical aptness, the following case, as evidence of the evils arising from the phy¬
sical depression induced by that system ; but as the example strikes us as being a strong instance of the benefits
830
THE GEEAT "WOELD OE LOKDOH.
separate system is found to be so dangerous to the mental health of those suhject to it, that
the authoritieB have deemed it necessary, not only to shorten the term of confinement under
it, but also greatly to relax and modify the severity of the original discipline. We have
before sho'wn that, whilst the average ratio of insanity firom 1842 to 1850 was 58 lunatics
per annum, to every 10,000 of the gross prison population throughout England and Wales,
still, at Pentonville, the average yearly proportion of lunacy from 1843 to 1851, was 62'0 per
10,000 prisoners ; so that had the inmates of all the prisons throughout the country been sub¬
mitted to the same stringent discipline as at the " Model Prison," the gross number of criminal
lunatics, between 1842 and 1850, would, so far as we can judge, have been increased
more than tenfold, or have risen from 680 to 7,173. (See Gkeat Wokld, pp. 103-5,
115, 143-4, 168). How, as the driving of a man mad forms no part of his original
sentence, it is clear that prison authorities have no earthly right to submit a prisoner
to a course of discipline, which, if long protracted, would have the effect of depriving
resulting from Umpora/ry isolation from the world, we quote it here as evidence of the deep impression that
can be made by separation upon the hearts of even the most hardened criminals
"John Bishop, the monster who was executed for the cruel murder of the Italian boy, whom he burked
in order to secure the price of the body in the school of anatomy, was," he says, " without exception, the
most finished rufiSan within my memory. He was a man of powerful frame, of repulsive countenance, and
of brutal address and manners. Consigned to my charge on remand, and with the direction to be kept apcut (an
occasional instance in those days), he entered the prison uttering oaths and execrations, and indulging in the
grossest language, while he assaUed the subordinates, and even myself, with menace and defiance. He had
received no provocation, but gave vent to the irrepressible brutality of his nature. Fourteen days of exclusive
self-communing incarceration," continues the late governor, " produced in this abandoned criminal a change
so marked and depressing, as to constitute an instructive commentary upon the wear and tear which unre¬
lieved refiection will produce upon a guilty mind. Bishop was, by law, entitled to supply himself with a
generous diet, and he was permitted to take daily exercise in the open air, and to have an ample supply of
books, so that feebleness could not have been induced by diminished sustenance, nor be referable to anything
else than the terror resulting from solitary ruminations. Certain it is, that iron-souled miscreant became
so meek and subdued, so prone to tears, so tremiilous, and agitated, that at the end of fourteen days, when
he was again sent up to the police-office, he could hardly be recognized as the same coarse and blustering
bully who had so recently entered the prison. It was impossible to see the effects of solitude upon a conscience
stricken by crime more signally exemplified. When committed to Newgate, I found, on inquiry," he adds,
" that renewed association with lawless men had revived the brutality so inseparable from his nature."
That this softening of a criminal's nature is by no means an extraordinary effect of separate confinement,
Messrs. De Beaumont and De TocqueviUe also bear witness, in their Beport upon the system as administered
in Philadelphia. " Do you find it difficult to endure solitude?" was a question put by them to one of the
prisoners. " Ah, sir," the man answered, " it is the most horrid ptmishment that can be imagined." " Does
your health suffer from it?" was the next inquiry. "No!" he replied, "but my soul is very sick." Of
another it was said, " he cannot speak long without shedding tears." The same remark, they add, maj^^m
made " of aU whom we have seen." Some, again, confessed that the Bible, and others that religion was
" their greatest consolation."
Mr. Chesterton argues, that the state of mental depression which separate confinement induces, is sympa¬
thetically derived firom the physical prostration to which solitude gives rise, and that unreasoning observers
are apt to hail that which is merely the effect of bodily weakness as the sign of spiritual conversion and pro¬
mise of amendment. " In vain," he says, "may the prisoners become imbued vñth a shallow devotion, and
pronounce the study of the Bible a pleasure. They most probably seize upon those resources," he tells us,
"because none other are available, and such ebullitions of piety proceed, in most cases," the late governor
adds, " from morbid sensibility, which vanishes on the first serious trial of their reality." But though it may
be true that the ratio of the annual re-commitments to the separate prison at Glasgow amounted to 60 per
cent., or, in other words, that one-half of the prisoners annually committed to the jail have been found to return
to it i still this in no way affects the truth of the contrition and religious fervour induced by the separation
for the time being; but it merely proves what all admit, that criminals are persons of weak, impulsive
natures, incapable of lasting impressions. Nor is it of any weight to assert that the mental depression, in¬
duced Iqr separation, arises from physical prostration ; for such mental depression is the feeling that all who
desire the criminal's reformation must seek to produce, as it is impossible for any one to repent his past life,
and yet exist in a state of bodily and spiritual liveliness. (See p. 168 of Gbeat "Wokld or London.)
HOUSE OF COEßECTIOH, COLDBATH FIELDS.
331
him of his reason. We cannot but concur, therefore, in the opinion of Sir B. Brodie and
Dr. Ferguson, that "the utmost watchfulness and discretion on the part of the governor,
chaplain, and medical ofdcers are requisite, in order to administer with safety the discipline
enforced at Pentonville."
How it must in candour he admitted, that the silent associated system as practised at
Coldbath Fields is open to no such objections. In the year ending Michaelmas, 1855, there
were only four lunatics out of a gross prison population of 9,180, which is at the rate of
only 4'3 per 10,000, and even less than the normal proportion for all England (5'8). Let
us, however, dismiss all prejudice from our minds, and calmly weigh the advantages and
disadvantages of this form of discipline, with the view to discovering whether its defects
may not he, in a measure, remedied and its benefits improved.
" The silent system," writes Mr. Chesterton, who being, as it were, the metropolitan
father of that form of penal discipline, may be regarded as its chief advocate, " has never yet
been attempted in this country with the space necessary for its perfect development."*
Hotwithstanding this he proceeds to tell us that, though professional thieves may communi¬
cate imder it, to a very limited extent, by significant signs—comprehensible to themselves
only—and though even unlimited communication (were it possible) among them could not
further corrupt their natures, it is still a comforting refiection that, by means of that form of
discipline, the uninitiated, who are ignorant of the import of such signs, are safe from the
contaminating infiuence of their more hardened associates. " Moreover," he says, in another
part of the same work, " the silent system infiicts no injury upon the health, however pro¬
tracted the sentence, the bodily and mental sanity being sustained under it to the last, in the
ordinary ratio of mankind. The legitimate opportunities it affords," he adds (vol. ii.,
p. 27), "nay, the demands it makes for the use of speech are numerous. The daily
responses in chapel by the prisoners, as well as their communications with the governor,
the chaplain, the schoolmaster, and various officers, all tend healthfully to employ the
tongue. It is only communication between prisoner and prisoner that is interdicted." "We
do all we can in the prison to prevent contamination," the same gentleman ob^rved, in
his evidence before the Parliamentary Committee in 1850 ; " and in my opinion the associated
silent system, properly carried out, is as effectual for all purposes of prison discipline as any
that can he devised. The prisoners do communicate, but I find that all the communications
are of a very trifling description, and that nothing like contamination takes place generally
among them."
Here, then, it will he remarked, that the special merit (and it assuredly commends itself
as no slight one to those who know what was the state of our prisons in the olden time)
claimed for this form of prison government, even by its chief supporter, is, as we have said,
of a purely negative character, viz., it does not allow the contamination of one prisoner
by another, it does not injure the health of those who are subjected to its regimen.
Let us, then, endeavour to discover at what expense these eminent advantages are gained.
We will in fairness continue to quote from Mr. Chesterton himseK. In the course of his
examination before the House of Commons, he was asked, " Have you compared the number
of punishments in the jail under your system with any other jail upon the separate system?"
" Yes, I have," was the answer ; " and I know that our punishments are very great." " You
punish for anything like a sign being passed from one prisoner to another?" he was then
asked. "Yes," he replied. "Or any attempt to communicate?" "Yes." "Your
punishments in 1848 were as many as 11,624." "Yes, they were." Mr. Chesterton, it
should be added, defends this excess of punishments by saying he considers that punishments
in general tend to soften, and have a beneficial effect upon prisoners' natures.
We wiU, however, for the sake of putting this important point clearly before the mindj
" Revelations of Prison Life," vol. ii., p. 23
332
THE GREAT "WORLD OE LONDON.
proceed to compare the number of punishments, as well as the number of prisoners punished,
at Coldbath Fields and at Pentonville prisons, in the course of the year 1854-1855.
TA.BLE SHOWING THE ABSOI.'UTE AND KELATIVB NUMBER OP PUNISHMENTS, AND NUMBER OP PRISONERS
PUNISHED, AT COLDBATH FIELDS AND PENTONVILLE PRISONS, DURING THE YEAR 1854—55.
Funishubnts at Colobath Fields Prison.
Numhtr of punithmenU.
For neglect of work . 1,255
For noise, talking, in¬
solence, and bad lan¬
guage . . . 6,421
For various acts of diso¬
bedience and disorder 2,317
Total number of pun¬
ishments in the course
of 1851—56 . . 9,023
Gross prison population 9,180
Proportion of punish¬
ments to gross prison
population . 98 per cent.
Number of prisoners punished.
Koported once . 1,208
,, twice . 607
„ thrice . 365
„ four times 138
„ more than
four times, " some few"
Total punished
Discharged without
having been reported
once ....
Others unreported
Total unpunished
Gross prison popula¬
tion ....
• 2,308
1,981
1,888
6,872
9,180
Proportion of prisoners
punished to gross pri¬
son population, 26 per cent.
Proportion of prisoners
unpunished - 76 per cent.
Punishments at Pentonville Prison.
Number of punishments.
For disobedienoe and
disturbing prison . 2
For misconduct in
school and chapel, and
making obscene com¬
munications
For communicating
with fellow-prisoners
For trying to send let¬
ters out of prison
For wilfully destroying
prison property
For insubordination and
false charges against
officers
For fighting and wrang¬
ling ....
For attempting and
proposing to others
to escape .
Feigning and threaten¬
ing to commit suicide,
and impositions on
surgeon .
For having dirty cells.
For purloining bread .
For having tobacco in
possession
169
171
89
30
12
14
Number of prisoners punished.
Reported once . . 153
,, twice . . 43
„ thrice . . 24
„ four times . 13
,, more than
four times . . 25
Total number punished 263
Number unpunished . 663
Gross prison pcpulation 926
Proportion of prisoners
punished to gross pri¬
son population, 28 per cent.
Proportion of prisoners
unpunished to gross
prison population,
72 per cent.
767
Number of cases pun¬
ished .... 601
Gross prison population 925
Proportion of punish¬
ments to gross prison
population . 66 per cent.
Now let US collate these data, as regards the number of punishments as well as the
number punished in the year at Coldbath Fields prison, with the same facts at Pentonville.
By the above comparative table, it will be seen at a glance that, though the propor¬
tion of prisoners refusing to submit to discipline, and consequently those upon whfm
punishment had to be inflicted, was very nearly the same at both Coldbath Fields and
Pentonville prisons—or 25 per cent, in the former case, and 28 per cent, in the latter—^never¬
theless, the pri^mrtionate amount of pmishmmt required to be inflicted was by no means
similar; for, whilst at Pentonville the ratio of the punishments to the gross prison popuhition
was only 65 per cent., at Coldbath Fields the ratio was as high as 98 per cent ! or, in plain
language, it was found necessary to inflict 33 per cent, more punishments upon the refractory
prisoners at the Middlesex House of Correction than upon those at the Model Prison.
That this excess of punishments is to be ascribed to the exactions of the silent system,
rather than to any undue severity on the part of the present excellent governor, we are
happy to be able to bear witness ; and the returns themselves are proof positive upon the
point ; for, whereas the daily average proportion of the prisoners punished amounted to 3 per
cent, of the daily population in Mr. Chesterton's time, it was only If per cent, in the course
of last year.
Now the excess of punishment required for the enforcement of the silent system, it
should be home in mind, is not only an excess over and above that which is found necessary
HOUSE GE COEEECTIOH, COLDBATH FIELDS.
333
for the mamtenance of the discipline at other prisons ; but the whole of such punishments are
inflictions which were never eontem^lated hy the law, and which formed no part of the legal
penalty imposed upon the prisoner.* They are punishments merely for arUtrmry offences,
or, in other words, offences against an mrhii/ra/ry form of discipline, known only within the
prison waUs, and to which the prisoner is sentenced without either jury to try him, or
counsel to protect him, and for which, therefore, nothing but the most cogent necessity, as
well as the highest moral advantages, can be received as justiflcation with all righteous
minds.
One other stringent objection against the silent associatedsystem of prison discipline is, that
speech proceeds from a natural impulse among men to give articulate utterance to the thoughts,
and feelings passing within them, and that the silent form of prison discipline not only imposes
a wüfiil restraint upon this innate propensity, but it likewise places prisoners in those very
circumstances in which there is the greatest temptation for the continual exercise of it ; so
that a man is thrown by the authorities into precisely those conditions which are most
likely to lead to a breach of the discipline (that is to say, he is put among several hundreds of
others, a large number of whom were probably his former companions, and aU of whom are
at least his fellow-sufferers "in trouble"), and yet he is punished for the least infraction of
the arbitrary prison rules.
The prisoner under the silent associated system is allowed to mingle with his fellows.
He forms one of the flve hundred who pick oakum side by side, or one of the twenty-four
who tread the wheel, or of the eighty who work as tailors together. But what is strictly
denied to him is the right to talk with those who are working at his elbow. If he requires
anything, he may address an ofdcer, but he must not utter a word to the prisoner next him.
He has, as it were, his tongue taken from him at the same time that his own clothes axe
changed for the suit of prison gray.
He has been sentenced, for a certain offence, to lose his liberty for a time ; stül, on
arriving at the prison, he finds that, in addition to his freedom, he must part, also, with his
right of speech. He is then placed aroidst hundreds similarly circumstanced to himself, all
of them suffering from the same cause, and feeling, therefore, towards each other, a sympathy
which longs to vent itself in speech ; but, though surrounded with temptations to speak on
every side, ho is denied the right to condole with his neighbours ; for there is a retinue
of warders continually watching over them all, and ready to have any one punished even for
" a significant look or a sign."
"Who can wonder, then, that the punishments under such a system should be found
even though they have been considerably reduced by the present management—to range
as ^gh as 33 per cent, over and above what is necessary for the maintenance of order at
other prisons !
The silent system of prison discipline, it is evident, can be carried out only by mpaTio
of operating in two different ways upon the natures of the various prisoners. The more
timid and less sensitive may, by dread of the punishment under it, be cowed into rapid
submission to its requirements ; whilst the more irritable and wayward may, after a long
course of suffering, be ultimately worried into subjection to the discipline. But neither
of these states of mind appears to us to be in any way connected with that reformation
of character which every form of prison government should, at least, aspire to induce.
Mere slavish obedience to arbitrary forms cannot possibly give rise to that elevation of soul
without which the criminal must for ever remain sunk in moral and spiritual turpitude ;
• The nature of the punishments inflicted at Coldbath Fields in the course of 1864-65, was as follows
Placed in handcuff and other irons . . 2
"Whipped 6
Conflned in dark and solitary cells' . . 470
Put upon short diet, and other punishments 8,646
9,023
334
THE GEEAT WOELD OP LONDON.
whilst a contiiiual sense of irritation under the most,galling control, so far from being con¬
nected with either a state of contrition for the past or virtuous resolves for the future, must
give rise, rather, to an infinity of deceits and falsities with the view of tricking the warders ;
BO that the mind, instead of being calm and sedate with its weight of sorrow for past
misdeeds, will be busy in planning all kinds of low artifices and dissimulations whereby to
hold secret converse with those around ; or else being made sullen, as weE as taciturn, the
men will pass their time in moody moroseness.*
But the silent system, as we have before said, springs from that love of extremes that
belongs to the extravagant rather than the rational form of mind. Because the Eberty of
speech has been found to be productive of evil among criminals, wiseacres have thought fit
to declare that henceforth prisoners shall not speak at all, even though it be only by inter-
commumon that the wisest and best of us have become a whit wiser and better than brutes.
Such an injunction is about upon a par in wisdom with that of the old lady who asserted that,
because there was danger in bathing, her son should not enter the water until he could swim.
But are there no other faculties that prisoners apply to a bad purpose lesides speech f Is
not sight as much an instrument of evil among them as even the voice itself ? Yet, who
would be boy. enough to propose—as Eugène Sue has with the murderer—that because the
faculty of seeing renders criminals more expert and dangerous to society, therefore they
should be deprived of sight altogether ? Surely, dumbness is not calculated to have a more
moral efiect upon men's hearts than blindness ; and if the object be to decrease the power
of doing evil among criminals, we must aU feel satisfied that a blind bad man is more
impotent for harm than a dumb one. But the main object of all forms of prison discipline
should be not merely to prevent men becoming more corrupt in jaU, but to render them more
righteous ; not merely to check bad thoughts, but to implant good ones. Yet what can
mere silence teach ?—especially silence in the midst of a multitude that is calculated to
distract self-communion rather than induce it.
• " It is impossible," it has been truly said, " to maintain perfect silence, and yet allow of atsoeiatim
for the year ending Michaelmas, 1865, the number of punishments, as we have shown, amounted to no less than
9,023, and of these nearly two-thirds, or as many as 6,421 were for noise, talking, insolence, and bad language.
The prison authorities themselves confess that it is utterly impossible to stop all intercommunication among
the prisoners. " They certainly do communicate," confessed Mr. Chesterton, before the Select Committee on
Prison Discipline. A large amount of communication is carried on by signs. " They ask one another,'
we are told, " how long they are sentenced for, and when they are going out, and the answers are given by
laying two or three fingers on the wheel to signify so many months, or else they turn their hands to
express the number of days before unlocking." Again, the Bev. Mr. Eingsmill, in his chapter on " Prison
and Prisoners," informs us, that " The position of stooping, in which the prisoners work at picking oakum,
gives ample opportunity of carrying on a lengthened conversation without much chance of discovery; so
that the rule of silence is a dead letter to many. At meals, also, in spite of the strictness with which the
prisoners are watched, the order is constantly infringed. The time of exercise, again, affords an almost
unlimited power of communicating with each other ; for the closeness of the prisoners' position, and the noise
of their feet, render intercommunication at such times a very easy matter. . . . Farther, the prisoners
attend chapel daily, and this may be termed the golden period of the day to moat of them; for it is here, by
holding their books up to their faces and pretending to read with the chaplain, that they can carry on the
most uninterrupted conversation."
The principal mode of communication, however, is by talking without moving the lips, and in this prac¬
tice many of the old prisoners are very expert. One person, lately discharged from the prison, has often
exhibited to us his adroitness in that respect, and proved to us that it is quite possible for prisoners to talk
even while the warder's eye is fixed intently upon them, without the least signs of utterance being discoverable
by sight. Moreover, at Tothill Fields, a series of benches, with high backs, have recently been con¬
structed, and arranged on a slant, in order to put a stop to the talking that, despite the vigilance of the
matrons, goes on among the female prisoners. This arrangement, however, has been found to facilitate
communication, by acting as a conductor to tbe sound rather than impeding it ; and the matron at that
prison informed us, that though she could hear the voice proceeding from a certain quarter, still it was
impossible by her eye to detect the actual person speaking.
BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF COLDBATH FIELDS PRISON.
21
HOUSE GE COEKECTIOH, COLDBATH EIELDS.
335
How much time that might be profitably employed is utterly wasted every day in sheer
moody taciturnity under the silent system. At Coldbath Eields, we see assembled together
some 500 of the most ignorant and depraved portion of our population—a class of people
requiring instruction, not so much in mere reading and writing, as in the first principles
of religion and morality, of worldly honour, and even common worldly prudence, more
than any other body of men, and yet wlio are allowed to remain, for upwards of eight horns
out of the twelve composing the prison day, in a state of utter mental idleness.* Surely such
stark waste of intellect as goes on imder this silent associated system is absolutely wicked,
as well as disgraceful to the time in which we live. If there be an age which owes
more than any other to the advantages of intercommunication it is the present—distin¬
guished as it is for its railroads, its steam-vessels, its penny postage, its electric tele¬
graphs, cheap literature, and steam printing-presses ; so that it becomes a positive marvel
of inconsistency, as to how, at such a period, the leading minds of the country could ever
have been induced to tolerate a system of prison-government that assumes to make men
better by putting a stop to all intercommimication whatever. It is only by intercommunion
that the faculties of the human mind become in the least developed. A human being, when
left to himself, grows up—like Peter, the wild boy of Bohemia—an unreilective, and indeed
hopeless brute ; whilst a man of education, by mere intercommunication with the most pro¬
found and righteous thinkers, both living and dead, contains stored in his own mind the wisest
and best thoughts—the accumulated experience of the principal sages and worthies that have
lived almost from the commencement of the world. Those who know and feel this, and
know, moreover, what a wondrous faculty is that of speech, and how much of a man's boasted
reason is due to the expression of thoughts and feelings by articulate sounds, cannot but see
in the silent system a wilful rejection of God's greatest gift, perhaps, to man.
Surely all that is necessary in order to check unrestricted intercourse among criminals,
is to stop all communion on depraved subjects. To go farther than this, and put an end to
the communication of even good thoughts among them, by enjoining absolute silence, is not
only absurd as over-reaching the end in view, but positively wicked, from the utter waste of
intellectual power which results from such a comse. In the best regulated tailors' work¬
shops at the west end of the Metropolis, it is not uncommon for the joiimeymen to pay one
of their own body to read to them while they are engaged at their labour. Under the silent
system, however, no such educational process is permitted during the work, and the men
are condemned to remain two-thirds of the day with their mental facidties utterly in abey¬
ance, or else engaged, from the mere want of better occupation, in planning tricks by
which to indulge in some secret communication, in the very face of the warders themselves.
"We would have the terrible and wasteful silence of the oakum-room turned to some good
account, rather than allow the men to be left, as now, to brood moodily over their own degraded
thoughts, or else to be continually chafing under the irritation of excessive and arbitrary
control. We would have the stillness enjoined by that system taken advantage of, and some
one put to read to the prisoners from a book that was at once of an elevating and interesting
* The distribution of time followed in the daily routine of discipline at the House of Correction, is as
follows ;—
6h. 25m. The gun fires, and the prisoners rise.
The officers for the day enter, are
mustered, and examined in the outer
yard. Cells are unlocked, and the
prisoners counted in their yards.
7h. Work commences.
8h. 20m. Breakfast and exercise in the yards.
Time employed at labour 8h. 8m.
Time for meals .... Ifi, 30m.
Exercise for those not employed at tread-wheel labour . . Ih. 30m.
24»
9h. 15m. Prepare for chapel.
9h. 30m. Service commences.
lOh. Go to work.
2h. Dinner, and exercise in the yards.
3h. Go to work.
5h. 30m. Supper.
6h. Commence locking up.
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDOK
oharaoter, and we would condemn only those who interrupted the reading to a term of the
same painful and unbroken silence as is now enforced.
Such a plan has, as we have shown, already been put in practice, at this prison on the
Sundays, and we have chronicled, in our account of it, that it is not uncommon even for
refractory prisoners to request permission to be present at these readings. Wo feel assured
were this imtriictive form of the silent associated system judiciously carried out, not only
might the eight hours that are now spent in absolutely unprofitable silence—in silence that
is barren of all good as well to the criminal himself as to society in general—^be turned to
the best possible accmmt by being made the means, not only of implanting some few honour¬
able and righteous principles in the hearts of the prisoners, but likewise, by occupying their
minds for the time being, of diverting them from the low tricks and cunning now carried
on, and so putting an end to the necessity of such an inordinate proportion of punishments
as is at present required to enforce silence from the listless men.
Stars.—To induce the prisoners to conduct themselves with propriety during their
stay in Coldbath Fields prison, the system of stars, as badges of good conduct, has been
adopted ; one of these is given for every three months during which a man has not been
reported for misbehaviour. These badges are in the shape of a red star, which is stitched
to the prisoner's sleeve. We were told that at one time there was a man in the jail who
had gained eleven such stars. Half-a-crown is given for each of the good-conduct badges
on the day the prisoner is liberated.
We inquired of one of the warders whether he considered that these rewards had any
influence over the prisoners' reformation. He replied that he thought not, and indeed, that he
considered the half-crowns given for them as so much money thrown away. " The best-
behaved men," he continued, " are the old oflenders—those who have been imprisoned
before ; they know the prison rules and observe them. Do you see that man with four
stars on his sleeve ?" he added, pointing to a prisoner in the exercising yard ; " you observe
he has a greater number of badges than any here, and yet it is the third time he has been in
jail, as you can tell by the white figure on his other sleeve." Indeed, the prison authorities,
examined before the Parliamentary Committee in 1850, one and aE admitted that the
worst class of oflenders outside the prison is invariably the best conducted within the prison
waEs.
We may add, by way of conclusion to this account of the regulations at Coldbath Fields
prison, that if any of the men should die during the term of incarceration, they are buried
at the expense of the county. An undertaker contracts with the prison to do aU the funerals
at 28s. each; and, for this, he supplies a one-horse hearse, fetches the body away, and pays
for a grave in the Yictoria Cemetery, Bethnal Green. All the friends of the deceased
receive notice, and, if they choose to attend, a time is fixed for the procession to leave the
gates.
Report Oßce.—Whenever a warder discovers a man in his yard speaking, laughing,
or otherwise breaking the rules of the prison discipline, he enters the prisoner's number in
the report-book, and the next morning aU those who have thus offended are led into the hall
at the entrance of the felons' building, and arranged in rows, to await their turn to be taken
in before the governor, and receive his sentence of punishment.
The day we were at Coldbath Fields prison was a Monday, and consequently there was a
considerable number of unruly prisoners to be reported, for the list included the offenders
of Saturday and Sunday. We fomid about fifty prisoners, spaced out at equal distances like
so many chess-men, whilst the different warders stood by, carrying under their arms what
•we at first mistook for tea-trays, but subsequently discovered to be the report-books, which
are covered with japanned tin sides. We picked our way through the gathering of offenders,
HOUSE CE COEEECTIOH, COLDBATH EIELDS.
337
pasBÍug in and put of them, whilst they remained silent and still as so many statues, and as
soon as the governor had entered the "justice hall," we pushed back the spring-door and
followed him.
The apartment, was about the size, and had much the look, of a lawyer's back-office.,
A long mahogany desk ran along one side of the wall; a couple of oak-grained cup-
hoards flanked each side of the flreplace, over which, as an ornament, bring a model of the
new building for oakum-picking. The governor took his seat at a small desk before the
window at the end, the chief warder perched himself upon a high stool, and then the court
was declared to be sitting.
" Bring in the first case," was the order, and the spring-door creaked as it opened to
admit a sub-warder and a youth, whose coarse features were pale with excitement, whilst his
firmly-closed lip showed that he was determined on making a vigorous defence.
Caps were taken otf, and the pleadings began.
" I report this man for insolence," commenced the sub-warder, and, despite the prisoner's
nervous ejaculations of " Ho, sir ! Please, sir ! Ho, sir ! " the officer related how the man had
moved a table, and when reprimanded moved it still more loudly and laughed.
Then the prisoner entered on his defence. " Guv'ner, I did no such thing. He's been
down on me ever since I've been in prison. He said to me, says he, ' Don't move that
table'—which was by accident—and I never touched it, guv'ner, s'elp me."
" Did he laugh ?" asked the governor of the warder, and on the officer replying in the
affirmative, sentence was delivered. " You should attend to what the officers say, and then
you wouldn't get into trouble." Turning over the leaves of a report-book, Captain ColviE
added, " Ton have been reported three times this month—^youmust lose half your dinner;"
and the prisoner, with a shrug of the shoulders, as much as to say, " he didn't care," was led
from the room.
The next case was one of a man having given away to another prisoner a portion of his
bread. The case was fiiUy proved, despite the culprit's denials, by the evidence of another
man in the same yard ; whereupon the reported felon meanly " split " upon two others, who,
ho declared, had often exchanged their gruel and cocoa. This was an important case, and
the parties concerned were ordered to be brought forward. They both denied the charge,
assuring the "guv'ner," with oaths, that it was "no such thing."
" If you tell me a lie, I'U punish you worse than for the offence," threatened the
governor. But, in spite of the warning, the men vociferated their innocence. A short
investigation proved that they were guilty, and the judgment was a heavy one, for the next
three days' dinner was docked one-half.
"You'll find that all the prisoners are innocent," remarked the governor, satirically, whilst
the next case was being brought in.
One, a handsome lad, with a large, bright eye, was accused of having a paper containing
some pepper in his possession. He had been employed in the kitchen, and had taken it for
no perceptible object beyond the desire to thieve something. He had two red stars on his
arm, and as a punishment one was taken off and half a dinner docked.
Another lad, with a clean, respectable-looking face, that betokened education and gentle
birth, was brought up for tearing his rug or counterpane. He never spoke, but kept his
eyes down ; when the governor addressed him he blushed. We were afterwards told that
he was very respectably connected, and in prison for the first time. We were glad the case
was not fully proved against him, and almost felt personaEy grateful to the governor for the
kind tone and feeling with which he spoke to the boy.
More than half the complaints were for talking. In each case the warder had scarcely
commenced saying " I have to report this man for speaking," when the excited prisoner would
exclaim, " It isn't true, guv'ner ; may I die, if I said a word." But the evidence in nearly
every instance was of a most conclusive nature. One offender—a very bad case was con-
338
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDON.
demned tö tliree days' confinement on bread and water, the others lost half their dinners,
thus causing a considerable saving to the kitchen supplies for the day.
The prisoner who behaved the worst of all those reported was the youngest, a mere boy
of fifteen or sixteen, of short stature, with a narrow forehead and fuU broad jaw. He had
been caught talking, and when detected laughed, and on being reprimanded had commenced
dancing. Such a glaring defiance of authority from one so young interested even the chief
warder, who, from the top of his tall stool, denounced the stripling criminal as the worst
behaved boy in the prison. The lad began crying the moment he entered the office, and the
moment he found the case going against him, his little arms and legs went stiff with passion,
and he grew abusive. He, too, was condemned to three days' solitary confinement on bread
and water, " And," added the governor, "if you don't behave better for the future, I shall
have to report you to the magistrates and have you whipped again."
" I don't care for that !" answered the lad as he was led out.
After the prisoners, two sub-warders were brought in, accused by their superior officers
with breaking the prison rules by sleeping in church d\iring the sermon. Both were fined.
The punishments over, those who had applications to make to the governor personally
were admitted to his presence. One wished to write a letter to a friend to become bail for
him; and as the prison regulations only allow the prisoners one letter in three months, a
special permission was required. On condition that nothing but the subject of bailing should
be touched upon, the request was granted.
Two applications were for stars for good conduct ; and as no report had been made against
either of the men for three months, they, too, were successful.
Another, who seemed so delighted with the opportunity of talking, that he continued
doing so until his breath was exhausted, wished to make some inquiries about three postage
stamps which his wife had sent him in a letter, and which he had never received. He
insisted upon repeating nearly the whole of his wife's epistle, gave a short outline of why he
was in prison, and only quitted the room when he had, for the tenth time, been told that
the missing property would be searched for and taken care of.
The most curious application was from a short, büious-looking man, who entered blub¬
bering to beg of the governor to let him be confined in a dark cell. Before he came in, the
chief warder had prefaced his entry with a hint that "he was not all right in his
head." The poor fellow commenced a long tale of his having been in the Crimea, in the
land transport service, and said he objected to being stared at as he was. "We believe he
was subsequently handed over to the doctor.
An elderly man with large, swollen, watery eyes, and thick lips that worked violently
as he spoke, was the last applicant. He bowed with obsequious politeness, and said that
since his heavy misfortime had placed him in his present unhappy condition, he was most
desirous of sending word to a highly-respectable gentleman, whose friendship he had in more
prosperous times been proud to own, to tell him that he wished to give up the lodgings he
had taken at his house.
Never was man so thankful as this polite prisoner for so trifling a favour granted. He
repeated, " Thank you, sir, I am indebted to you," three times ; his voice, at each exclama¬
tion, growing more expressively grateful. He was in prison for swindling.
When the business was over, the report-books, with their japanned tin bindings (about
twenty in number), were placed in a rack, and the governor declared the court broken up.
When we left we found the haU cleared of its crowd, the only prisoners to be seen being the
three or four lads who, down on their hands and knees, like the pictures of sportsmen deer¬
stalking, were holy-stoning the pavement of the corridor.
HOUSE CE COERECTION", COLDBATH FIELDS.
839
Of the Different Kinds of Prisons and Prisoners, a/nd Diet allowed to each.
Vagrants' Prison.—At Coldbath Fields prison the old and siUy classification enjoined
by the 4th of George IV. stiU. continues in force, for here are to be found, to this day, special
places for vagrants, misdemeanants, and felons—though such a system of separation cannot
possibly be of the least avail, since it is well known that the late inmate of the felons'
prison not only often gets re-committed as the reputed thief, or rogue and vagabond, and so has
a place assigned him among the vagrants, but is afterwards (not unfrequently) sent back to the
same prison for assault or fraud, whereupon he is ranked among the misdemeanants, and accord¬
ingly located in that part of the jail. If the several branches of the criminal profession were
as widely distinct as that of law, divinity, and medicine, and if the utterer of base coin, who
legally belongs to the class of misdemeanants, never indulged in thimble-rigging, and thus
never rendered himself liable to be committed under the vagrant act for "gaming," nor
ever did a bit of simple larceny, nor ever, therefore, came to be indicted and convicted as a
felon—then might such a division of prisoners be about as scientific and instructive with regard
to the subject of crime and criminals in general, as an alphabetic arrangement of the various
members of the animal kingdom might be for the purposes of natural history. As it is,
however, the classification enjoined by the 4th George IV. is about as idle for the purpose of
preventing the contamination of one class of prisoners by another, as it would be to group
together all those who were committed under like aliases ; since the John Smith of one
session becomes the "William Brown of another, even as the felon of to-day is the vagrant or
reputed thief of to-morrow.
The Coldbath Fields House of Correction consists, as we have before said, of three
distinct prisons—one for felons, another for misdemeanants, and a third for vagrants. The
latter building is situated at the south-western comer, on the Gray's-Inn-Lane side, and
occupies the point of ground enclosed by the bending of the outer wall, as it turns down
from Baynes Bow into Phoenix Place.
On entering the principal gates, there is seen to the left, through the strong iron railings
which enclose the paved court like a cage—towards the quarter where the fan for regulating
the tread-wheel is revolving—a broad tower, built in the mixed styles of a chapel and a
granary ; for it has a half-ecclesiastic appearance, the windows being tall and arched ; whilst
the walls have become so weather-beaten, that the yellow plastering with which they are
covered has turned white in places, seeming as if covered with flour. That tower is the
central "argus"-like portion of the vagrants' prison.
This prison, which was built in 1830, is designed in the half-wheel form, with four wings
radiating like spokes from the central building. Though at first only calculated to accom¬
modate 150 prisoners, it has since been enlarged, so that it now contains 177 cells. The
second and third yards each contain a tread-wheel.
The plan of this prison is of the ancient kind. On each side of the yards are ranged
the cells, those in the ground-floor opening into the exercising ground, whilst in the galleries,
on the first and second floor, the cells are ranged on either side of the passage. The cell
furniture here is similar to that allowed to the felons, and consists simply of bedding
and a stool, whilst hanging to the walls are boards, on which are pasted forms of morning
and evening prayer; the cells, themselves, however, are inferior to those of the felons'
prison in respect to size, being one foot less in width and breadth ; though in aU other
respects they are similar in style, and, like them, neither warmed, ventilated, nor lighted.
Attached to the vagrants' prison is a strong room or cell, for either unnily or lunatic
criminals. It is larger than the usual cells, and instead of a door has a strong iron grating
before it, through which the incarcerated man can look out into a kind of passage before
340
THE GREAT VORLD OE LOKDOH.
him, and which also enables the warder to watch him without the necessity of unlocking
the door. The day on which, accompanied by the governor, we visited this portion of the
jail, a man had been placed here for attempting the life of one of the warders. Hearing
Captain Colvül's voice, he rose up from the dark comer in which he had been seated, and,
advancing to the grating, requested that he might be permitted to have a bath. This
prisoner had stabbed one of the officers in the back with a knife stolen from a warder's
locker. Had the Millbank tin knives, however, been in use at this prison, such an act
could not have been perpetrated.
The offences which, according to law, fall under the denomination of vagrancy, are
principaRy as follows :—
Begging or sleeping in the
open air.
Disorderly prostitution.
Eortune telling.
Gaming.
Indecent exposure of person.
Leaving families chargeable.
Incorrigible rogues convicted
at sessions.
Obtaining money by false
pretences.
Reputed thieves, rogues and
vagabonds, suspected.
"We have already spoken of vagrancy in London (see p. 43, Geeat Woeid of London),
and shown that, judging by the returns from the Metropolitan unions and the mendicants'
lodging-houses, as well as the asylums for the houseless, there is good reason to believe
that there are 4,000 habitual vagabonds distributed thi-oughout the Metropolis, and that the
cost of their support annually amormts to very nearly £50,000. That vagrancy is the great
nursery of crime we have said, and that the habitual tramps are often first beggars and then
thieves, and, finally, the convicts of the country—^the evidence of all the authorities on the
subject goes to prove. Out of a return of 16,901 criminals in London that were known to
the police in 1837, no less than 10,752, or very nearly two-thirds of the whole were returned
as being of "migratory habits." Moreover, throughout England and Wales there was, be¬
tween the years of 1840 and 1850, an average of 21,197 vagrants committed to prison
every year, so that the gross vagabond population of the entire country may probably be
taken, at the very least, at that number; whilst in every 100 summary convictions by the
magistrates, throughout England and Wales, the number of persons committed as vagrants
was no less than 28-9, and those as reputed thieves 23'4, or, together, more than 50 per cent,
of the whole. {Seventeenth Repart of the Inspectors of Prisons of Great Rritadn, p. xvii.)
"I have never been able to comprehend," says Mr. Chesterton, the late governor of
Coldbath Fields, while treating of the peculiarities of vagrants in his work upon " Prison
Life," " the preference given by hale, able-bodied men, who, rather than face creditable
industry, wül stand shivering in the cold, with garments barely sufficient to cloak their
nakedness—purposely rent and tattered—in order to provoke a sympathy but rarely excited.
Their vocation entails upon them endless imprisonments, and the entire life seems to me to
be one of so much privation and discomfort, that it is marvelous how any rational being can
voluntarily embrace it.
"The tramps or ubiquitary wanderers," adds the late governor, "display a taste far
superior to that of the London ' cadgers.' "
One such tramp assured Mr. Chesterton, that the life he led suited him; he enjoyed
the country, he said, realized a pleasing variety, and managed, in one way or another, to get
his wants adequately supplied.
Misdememants^ Prison.—^Facing the kitchen, at the Bagnigge Wells comer of the
felons' prison lies that for the misdemeanants, so that the three distinct prisons are built on
n kind of diagonal line, which stretches from the north-eastern to the south-western comer
\j;he boundary wall, across the ground enclosed Within it.
HOÏÏSE OP CORIllilCTION, COLDBÂTH FIELDS.
341
The misdemeanants' prison is decidedly the handsomest of the three buildings. It is
built of brick, with white stone copings to the windows, which give a liveliness to the
brown tint of the front. As seen from the grounds, the structure reminds one of some
barracks. In the centre is a handsome, comfortable-looking dwelling-house (the abode
of the deputy-governor), with muslin curtains hanging before the windows, and the parlour
looking out on to the little terrace, surrounded by a handsome stone balustrade ; on each
side extends the two-storeyed wings, with the plain brick-work pierced by strongly-
bound, half-circular openings, whilst the entrance to the prison itself is through a kind of
ceUar-door, placed like an arch iinder the bridge formed by the double flight of stone steps
which lead up to the deputy-governor's house.
The half-wheel style of architecture has likewise been adopted in the erection of this
prison, the spokes forming four distinct wings. By excavating the ground, the architect
has managed to make the building, which outside appears to have but two storeys, have, in
the interior, three ; and thus 386 cells have been obtained. All the wings converge to the
centre building, with which they communicate by means of covered-in bridges, whose sides
of rough unpolished glass give them a light and pleasing look.
In the first yard there is an extensive oakum-picking shed, capable of holding nearly 200
men ; and close to it are the laundry and the washhouse.
The cells in the misdemeanants' prison are the smallest of all those in the House of
Correction, for not only are they less by a foot, both in breadth and length, than those in
the felons' building, but they are also one foot less in height. They, too, are neither
warmed, well-ventilated, nor lighted.
Three of the yards have each at their base a wooden shed in which the men take their
meals ; whilst in the fourth yard the oakum-room occupies the same position. There are also
slate lavatories for the men to wash at, on rising in the morning. The other sides of all the
yards alike are occupied by cells which open into the paved court.
Out of one hundred consecutive cases taken at random from the prison books, we found
that forty belonged to the misdemeanant class, and that the men had been convicted of the
following offences in the following proportions :—
Assault ... 2
Attempt at Bape . 2
Cutting and wounding 3
Fraud
Obtaining goods imder
false pretences.
Peijury ... 1
Uttering . . .26
Fines.—Hearly one-half (48 per cent.) of the prisoners sent to Coldbath Fields
are sent there owing to their not possessing sufficient money to pay the fine for which the
police magistrate has commuted their particular breach of the law. Had the offender
been in a position to hand over to the clerk of the court the sum of money demanded, he
would have been permitted to go at large ; but his purse being empty, he is committed to
prison. Hence, it is clear that the offender is no longer sent to jaü because he has broken
the laws of the land, but because he has not sufficient means to discharge the amount of
the pecuniary penalty in which he has been mulct ; and, consequently, it is equally clear,
that the man has changed his position of a criminal into that of a debtor to the State, so
that his imprisonment does not in reality differ much from that of a defaulter at the
county court, both men being confined in a jail for a small debt that they are unable to
discharge.
It is not oTir intention at present to discuss the question as to whether it be politic for a
State to compound crimes by the payment of so much money in the shape of fines. We are
merely talking of the law as it exists, and say that since it is deemed expedient, in
certain cases, to change a penal offence into a debt to the State, it is not j'tisi that the
State->dehtor should, after the commutatioü of the sentence, be dealt with as a criminal.
342
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOKDOH.
The question, therefore, hecomes, whether it be right to treat a State-debtor with similar
rigour to that with which we would punish a felon. That the offenders who are com¬
mitted to jaü by the police magistrates, from inability to pay the fines imposed upon
them, are not of a very terrible character, is proven by the fact that a sum of money is con¬
sidered as an equivalent for their infraction of the law. That they are incarcerated for their
poverty, rather than their transgression, is shown by the fact that they may regain their
liberty during any period of their sentence, immediately the sum in which they have been
mulct is paid to the governor of the prison ; for the moment afterwards, the prison uniform
of dirty gray is cast off, and the gates opened for the egress of the offender—a mode of
obtaining freedom which is precisely similar to the process gone through at all debtors'
prisons.
Let us put the following case :—A workman, " out upon the spree," takes too much to
drink, and being fotind in a helpless state by the police, is carried off to the station-house, and,
the next morning, fined 5s. by the presiding magistrate. Now, it is most probable that this-
fool either spent or lost all his wages in his dissipation, so that he is unable, at that particular
moment, to pay the fine ; consequently, although this man may, in all other respects, be a well-
conducted and industrious citizen, yet, for the lack of sixty pence, he must be sent to jail to
suffer seven days' imprisonment—even though his labour, and therefore his liberty, be
really worth 5s. per diem to him. If he have a wife and family, and the chandler's shop¬
keeper, hearing of the man's imprisonment, refuse them credit during his absence, the
mother and children must go to " the union; " and the frequent attendance of the parish-
officers at the prison gates in such cases, when the day of Kberation comes round, proves that
this is far from being an uncommon occurrence.
Viewing this matter in a moral light, nothing can be more disastrous than such proceed¬
ings. A person who has been in prison is a marked man in the world. It matters not
though he plead that he was only guilty of not having 5«. in his pocket, the answer is, and
will continue to be, " you have been in jaü." He will find masters turn from him, and
refuse him work ; decent landlords "will deny him lodgings, and he "will, consequently, have
to seek shelter in less particular quarters, his chüdren being thus brought into association
■with the young vagabonds infesting such places ; and if he ever appear again at a police-court,
no matter how frivolous tiie charge, he wül be recognized as a jaü-bird, and classed among
the "known" offenders—^until at length, deprived of all character, he "wiU probably enlist
himself among the regular criminals, and prefer to live "without labouring at all.
Talking this subject over "with one of the head officers at the House of Correction, the
official advanced the following case in proof of what we urged :—
"A mechanic," he said, "goes out, perhaps, for a spree on the "Wednesday night, takes a
drop too much, becomes riotous, and is fined five shillings. The man has done three days'
work (it often happens so), but as he is not paid untü the Saturday, he cannot draw his
money, consequently, he is sent here, and has to remain "with us as a criminal iintü the
pay-day arrives, when his "wife obtains the wages, and liberates him."
The object of wise legislation should be to keep men out of prison as long as possible ;
for not only is an impending punishment much more efficacious as a deterrent to men than a
punishment which has been already infiicted on them, but the wholesome dread of prison—
that dread which acts upon all "with any regard for character, even stronger than any abstract
sense of rectitude—^this feeling once removed, and the man is almost lost to society. The
nim of recent legislation, however, seems to be, to multiply rather than decrease the number
of imprisonable offences—as the Ordinary of Newgate, has well shown ; so that, now-a-days,
it is almost impossible for a poor man to escape jaü. A slip of the foot as he walks the
streets may cause him to break a pane of glass, and 80,^if he cannot pay for the damage, gain
for him admission "within the prison walls. Let a cabman murmur at his fare—a street trader,
in his desire to obtain an honest living, obstruct the thoroughfare—a sweep shout out his
HOUSE OF COHEECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
343
calling in the streets—a dnstman ring his hell—or others commit a host of snch like petty
offences—and to prison they must go, to wear a prison dress, and do the work of felons.
What do these persons learn in jail? To dread the place, think you r* Ho, indeed. They
find the reality of prison far less terrible than their fancy had imagined it. The place is a
palace compared with many of their homes. The cares of life—the struggle for bread that
goes on outside—all cease within the prison gates. They are well fed, well housed, well
clothed—better, perhaps, than ever they were in their lives before, and without a fear, too,
for the morrow.*
" Thirty-three per cent, of r«-commitments to Coldbath Fields was the steady ratio for
years," writes Mr. Chesterton, the late governor ; and the prison returns for the last year
inform us that out of a total of 7,743 prisoners, who were sent there during the twelve
months, 2,517 had been previously confined in the same prison—^being at the rate of 32| per
cent.f Does this exhibit any very lively dread of returning to the place.
How, the principle of punishment by fines appears to us to be an admirable mode
of keeping men out of prison and yet of punishing them sufilciently for slight offences. But
in order to keep men out of prison as long as possible, every facility should be given to the
poor (and they are the principal class fined) for the payment of the penalty. A fine is simply
a debt due to the State, and why should the State be a harsher creditor than it permits
its subjects to be. Are there no other ways of recovering a debt than by criminal imprison¬
ment. Society, by the establishment of the county courts, where debts are permitted to be
paid by small instalments, recognises the great principle of making imprisonment a last resort,
and giving the poor every chance of avoiding it. Hor does the legislature hold it just that
debtors shoidd be associated with felons and criminals, for it has ordered a special place to
be appropriated to the confinement of debtors, apart from thieves and vagabonds.
* The following table will give the reader some notion as to the relative proportion of the several offences
for which the prisoners are committed to Coldbath Fields; for we find, from calculations based on the re¬
turns made to the Justices for the last July quarter, that the per centage of the various crimes for which the
prisoners are incarcerated is as under :—
Per Cent.
Felonies, with imprison¬
ment and hard labour . 43*83
Common Assaults . 13'82
Simple Larceny . 10*19
Reputed Thieves . 8*2.5
Unlawful Possession . 3*99
Uttering or Possessing
Base Coin . . 3*69
Soldiers by Court Martial 2*62
Frauds tried at Sessions . 2*39
Assaults on Police Con¬
stables . . 1*94
Assaults on Women and
Children, with Intent . 1*16
Misdemeanour . . *93
Misbehaviour in Work¬
house . . . *93
Per Cent.
Begging or Sleeping in
open air
Unlawful Collection of
Dust .
Wilful Damage .
Drunk and Disorderly
Conspiracies to Defraud
Cutting and Maiming
Attempt at Burglary
Illegally Pawning
Excise Offences .
Indecent Exposure
Person
Dog Stealing
Furious Driving and In¬
solence to Fares
of
77
61
•61
■65
■55
•47
■38
*38
•30
*30
*24
Per Cent.
Leaving Families Charge¬
able . . . *15
Assaults Unnatural . *08
Bastardy. , . *08
Cruelty to Animals . *08
False Characters . . *08
Keeping Brothels . *08
Stealing Fruit, Plants,
Trees, &o. . . *08
Trespassing, Fishing,
Poaching, &c. . . *08
Wilful and Corrupt Per¬
jury . . . *08
Obtaining Money by False
Pretences . . *08
Abduction . . *0!
f TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER OP BE-COMMITMENTS TO COLDBATH FIELDS PRISON DURING THE 'VEAR
ENDING MICHAELMAS, 1855.
The number of prisoners (except debtors) confined in this prison
in the course of the year wlio have been previously
committed to this prison.
Committed once before
Ditto twice before .... . ,
Ditto thrice before ... ...
Ditto four times or more. ....
100*0
Prisoners of 17
years of afre
and upwards.
. 1,579
684
163
201
Total number of re-commitments in the course of the year
Tota number of commitments ....
2,617
7,743
844
THE GEEÁT WOHLD OF LONDON.
The government has thus shown that it regards the commingling of debtors and criminals
as both iniquitous and impolitic ; then why, we ask, should it persist in sending the very
poorest form of debtor—the one who cannot pay even five shillings—to eat and mix with the
dregs of society, to pick oakum beside the burglar, and drink from the same tin with the
felon ? Could not the coimty court system be applied to the recovery of fines as well as of
small debts, and the penalty be liquidated by instalments ? To the honest, but imprudent,
man—and this is the class of persons whom we are bound chiefly to consider—such a step
would be the greatest of all blessings ; a leniency which, while it punished the offender,
would do 80 without sending his wife and family to the workhouse, and which, by the
continued smarting of small weekly payments, would be far more likely than imprisonment
to teach him to shun wrong-doing for the future.
Some may object to this scheme on the ground that it would be difficult to obtain the
instalments from the State-debtors, so that a large proportion would escape punishment
altogether. Our answer is based upon information obtained from one of the county court
judges, who assured us that, out of several thousand cases tried by him in the course of the
year, the imprisonments for non-payment of the instalments amounted to less than ten per
thousand.
Further, in illustration of the iniquity of the present principle of summary imprisonment
for inability to pay a certain fine, we subjoin an extract from Mr. Chesterton's (the late
governor's) book, in which an instance is given of a man who, made desperate by the
disgrace of being sent to prison, put an end to his existence there. There can be no doubt that
this poor creature would have paid the amount if only a few days' grace had been granted
him ; for, as the governor tells us, the money was brought to the gate within an hour or two
after his death. ""Within a short period of my retirement, a man effected suicide by
hanging, who had simply been committed for seven days in default of the payment of a very
trifiing fine. He was discovered in the morning suspended in his cell, the body being per¬
fectly cold. To render this sad event still more affiicting, the paltry fine of a few shillings
was tendered on the forenoon of the discovery, and but a few hours of patient endurance
would have seen the deceased relieved from a confinement which had so evidently unsettled
his intellect."
But while proposing that the principle of fines in lieu of imprisonments should be
extended, and, in conjunction with the principle of payment by instalments, be applied
to those minor infractions of social rules, which, assuredly, do not belong to the criminal
class of offences (such as cr3ring " sweep," ringing bells by dustmen, obstructing the
thoroughfare by street traders, sleeping in the open air, being drunk and disorderly,
accidental breaking of windows, hawking without a license, fortime-teUing, and a variety of
such like peccadilloes), and proposing this change mainly because we hold it to be most
politic in a State to keep a man out of prison as long as possible, rather than be too eager to
disgrace and corrupt him by thrusting him into it on every paltry pretence—^we are, at the
same time, well aware that this old Saxon principle of "mulcts" is far from being a just
punishment, when the same pecuniary penalty is alike inflicted upon the affinent and the
needy. Assuredly the well-to-do and, therefore, the weU-educated, have not one tithe of the
excuse for their transgressions that can be fairly pleaded by those who have seldom been
schooled by any kinder master than want and ignorance. Moreover, the wealthier classes
have not only less excuse for their offences, but also greater means of paying whatever
penalty may be imposed upon them; so that to attach a definite fine, or so many days'
imprisonment, to a breach of the law, is to enable the very class of people who deserve
the severest punishment to get off with the lightest infliction ; whilst it is also to treat
with the greatest rigour of the law, those towards whom every principle of humanity, and
even equity, commands us to be lenient.
"We would, therefore, while proposing such a change as that here suggested, propose also
HOrSE OF CORRECTIOE", COLDBATH FIELDS.
345
tliat sucli fines, instead of being fixed as now at definite sums, to be inflicted alike upon ail
classes, sbould be made to bear something like a just proportion to the means of the
offenders. For this purpose, it seems to us that the amount of the fine should be based on
a per centago of the annual rental paid by the person in custody, the magistrate having a
discretion allowed to him to vary the ratio, according to the enormity of the outrage—^from
say to 10 per cent. Further, in case of inability to pay, we would have no man's liberty
valued at less than an ordinary labourer's wage of 2s. &d. a-day, and so put an end to the
barbarism of some men being committed to prison by magistrates on account of non-payment
of fines, for a term which estimates their freedom at 4|í?. per diem, while others value the
luxury of being at large as high as 3s. l|(i. a-day. On the 29th September, 1855, the
official returns tell us that—
The total number of prisoners in Coldbath Fields was .... 1,301
Of these—
The number convicted at assizes and sessions was .... 823
,, ,, summarily 478
1,301
Hence, it appears that more than 36 per cent, of the prisoners there are committed by
the magistrates.
It will be seen, by the facts cited below, that some regular scale requires to be laid
down as to the proportion that the term of the imprisonment should bear to the amount of
the fine imposed by their worships ; so that, henceforth, summary decisions may be rendered
less incongruous, and less like mere caprices of the moment. The magistrates all obviously
entertain different notions as to the imprisonment that should be attached to the non¬
payment of each fine-^one awarding fourteen days for a 5s. offence, another considering
seven days to be a just period in lieu of a fine of 22s.-' That our magistrates are honourable
* In proof of the ahove assertion we subjoin an analysis of forty-eight cases of fines, taken from 100 con¬
secutive oflences, selected at random from the prison hooks.
Thirteen of these were for common assaults, one of which got seven days, or 10s. fine ; another, seven days,
or 20s. fine; another, twelve days, or 32s. fine; two others, fourteen days, or 20s. fine; another, fourteen
days, or only 10s. fine ; one other, twenty-one days, or 60s. fine ; another, thirty days, or 20s. fine ; two
others, thirty days, or 40s. fine ; and two, thirty days, or 60s. fine.
Further, ten more of the ofiences consisted of assaults on the police, and for these the punishments were
as follows One had five days, or 10s. fine ; another, seven days, or 5s. fine ; a third, the same number of
days, and yet 10s. fine ; a fourth, eight days, or 20s. fine ; a fifth, ten days, or 30s. fine ; a sixth, fourteen
days, or only 10s. fine ; and two others, the same number of days, and yet 20s. fine; another, twenty-one
days, or 60s. fine ; and the last, thirty days, or 20s. fine.
Nine of the cases, on the other hand, were for assaults on females. Of these, one had fourteen days, or
20s. fine ; two, thirty days, or 40s, fine ; one other, forty-two days, or 60s. fine ; and the remaining five,
sixty days, or 100s. fine.
Besides the ahove, there were seven cases of being drunlc and riotous, and three of these were sentenced
to seven days, or 5s. fine ; three to seven days, or 10s. fine ; and one to fourteen days, or 20s. fine.
Against the Cab Act there were two offences ; the one was sentenced to seven days, or 22s. flue, and the
other to fourteen days, or 20s. fine.
For illegally pawning, one case got fourteen days, or 8s. fine, and the other as much as sixty days, or
140s. fine.
Then, for damage done to a window, of which there were two instances ; one of the offenders had seven
days, or 6s. 6d fine, and the other fourteen days, or 5s. ßne.
For stealing fruit, the punishment was seven days, or 5s. 2d. fine ; and, in a bastardy case, thirty days
was given in lieu of 22s. fine.
Nor did the London magistrates seem to have any more settled notion as to the daily value of a man's
liberty than they had concerning the punishments which they adjudged it necessary to inflict for the same
offence ; for, whilst some justices appraised the luxury of being at large at the rate of 4^d. per diem, others
estimated it at no less than 3s. lid, a-day, e.g.
On analysing these same forty-eight cases in which fines had been inflicted, we found that in one of them
846
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOEDON.
men, stem and upright in their judgments, neither allowing themselves to he influenced
by wealth or poverty, not even the most suspicious can do other than believe. Still they
are afflicted with human constitutions and human ailments, and their minds, Hke those of
other men, are influenced by the derangements of their bodily systems. A disordered
stomach may make even the most righteous nature see that act as a heinous offence, and
worthy of the severest punishment, which the same person, in a state of perfect health,
would regard as but a trivial error.
*** Of the Prison Kitchen and Diet,—The kitchen, where the daüy food of the 1,800
inhabitants of Coldbath Fields prison is cooked, is as large and lofty as a barn, so that
despite the heat required for the culinary purposes, the air is cool, and even the panes in the
a British subject's liberty was valued at a-day ; this consisted of damage done to glass, ior which the
sentence was fourteen days, or 5s. fine.
In the next case the freedom was estimated at 6\d. a-day, and this was for illegally pawning—the sen¬
tence being fourteen days, or 8s. fine.
Then came three cases where the liberty was considered to be worth 8d. per diem. These were—one
common assault, one assault on police, and one bastardy case, in all of which the sentence was thirty days'
imprisonment, or 20s. fine.
After this we have six cases, valuing the liberty at 8jd. per diem. Three of these were for being drunk
and riotous, and one for an assault on the police, each of which was sentenced to seven days' imprisonment,
or 5s. fine ; whereas the other two cases, which consisted of a common assault and an assault on the police,
were respectively sentenced to fourteen days, or 10s. fine.
Then followed one case in which the liberty was appraised at 8Ja!. a-day. This was for stealing fruit, the
sentence being seven days, or 5s. 2d. fine; and another (breaking a window) valuing the liberty at lid. per
diem, the punishment being seven days, or 6s. 6d. fine ; and a common assault, in which the magistrate
thought the liberty was worth Is. l|d. a-day, and adjudged the offender either to forty-five days' imprison¬
ment, or 50s. fine.
In the next four cases, the worth of the liberty was estimated at Is. id. per diem ; two of these were for
common assault, and two for assaults on females, all being alike sentenced to thirty days' imprisonment, or
40s. fine.
Next we find the 'liberty rise, in the magistrate's opinion, to Is. 5d. a-day ; for two cases of common
assault, and assault on the police, and three cases of being drunk and riotous, were alike condemned to seven
days, or 10s. fine ; and there were several other cases at the same rate, of which seven were adjudged to
fourteen days' imprisonment, or 20s. fine ; and the last to forty-two days' imprisonment, or 60s. fine—con¬
sisting of such different acts as two common assaults, two assaults on police, two assaults on females, and
one against the Cab Act.
In five other cases the value of the liberty was increased to Is. id. the day. These were all assaults on
females, and the punishment, in every case, was sixty days' imprisonment, or 100s. fine.
On the other hand, 2s. a-day was the price affixed to the men's freedom ; in five cases the sentence being
thirty days' imprisonment, or 60s. fine, for two common assaults, and five days, or 10s. fine, for an assault on
the police.
Moreover, in a case of illegally pawning, the value of the liberty was set down at 2s. id. the day, the
sentence being sixty days, or 140s. fine.
Again, in an assault on the police, the estimate of the value of the liberty was not less than 2s. Zd, the
day, for in that case the decision was eight days, or 20s. fine.
Then, by another gentleman on the bench, the price of the liberty was raised to 2s. 8rf. the day, for a
common assault, which was punished with twelve days, or 32s. fine ; whilst, in another assault case, in which
the adjudication was seven days, or 20s. fine, the average value of the liberty was taken at 2s. lOcf. per diem;
whereas, in another common assault, as well as one on the police, the amount of the appraisement leaped up
to 2s. lOjd. a-day ; for the sentence, in both of these cases, was twenty-one days, or 60s. fine.
In another assatilt on the police, however, 3s. was reckoned to be the worth of a man's freedom, as the
penal infliction was ten days, or 30s. fine ; and lastly, in an offence against the Cab Act, which got seven
days, or 22s. fine, it was found that the valuation for the liberty, in this instance, was taken at an average of
3s. 1|¿. per diem.
Nor did these vague ideas and fluctuations in the liberty market, at the London police-offices, arise from
any specific difference in the offences themselyes, but simply from the different sense of justice in the magis¬
terial mind.
HOUSE OP CORRECTION, COLDBATH PIELDS.
347
sky-lights let into the slanting wood roof, are free from condensed vapour. Everything is
cooked by steam, and the whole place seems to he conducted on the gigantic scale of an
American boarding-house ; for there is but one pot to be seen, and that holds at least ten
gallons. In a bind of recess, surrounded by an iron railing, are the two boilers for generating
the steam, the black round tops arching up from the crimson brick-work, and each with a
small white plume of steam hissing out of the safety valves. The different articles of food
are being prepared for the prisoners' dinners in the immense square iron tank—for they
are more like cisterns than boilers—ranged against the waU. In one, with the bright copper-
lid, which is so heavy that it has to be raised by means of an equipoise, are 100 gallons of
cocoa, the red-brown scum on the top heaving and sinking with the heat ; in another are
suspended hampers of potatoes; whilst other compartments contain 150 gallons of what,
from the "eyes" of grease glittering on the surface, you guess to be soup, or which, from
its viscid, pasty appearance, you know to be the prison gruel.
It takes two cooks three hours and a half merely to weigh out the rations required for
this enormous establishment. One of these stands beside a mass—high as a truss of hay—
of slices of boiled meat, and, with extraordinary rapidity, places pieces of the pale lean and
the yellow fat in the scales, imtil the six-ounce weight moves. The other is occupied with
the potatoes, dividing the hamper filled with the steaming, brown-skinned vegetables into
portions of eight ounces each. The sight of such immense quantities of provisions, and the
peculiar smell given off from the cooling of boiled meats, has rather a sickening effect upon
any one, like ourselves, not himgry at the time. All the soup is made out of bullocks' heads;
and in the larder, hanging to hooks against the slate-covered wall, we beheld several of
these suspended by the lips, and looking fearfully horrible, with the white bones showing
through the crimson flesh, so that the sight called up in our mind our youthful fancies of
what we had imagined to be the character of Bluebeard's closet.
A curious use is, by the by, made of the jaw-bones of these bullocks' heads. After the
flesh and all its "goodness" has been boiled from it, the "maxilla inferior," as doctors call
it, is used to form ornamental borders to the gravel walks in the grounds, in the same way
as oyster-sheUs are sometimes turned to account in the nine-feet-by-six gardens in the
suburhs.
The dinner hour for the prisoners is two o'clock ; and as 1 pint of gruel and 6| ounces of
bread do not coincide with an Englishman's notion of that meal, we were desirous of
seeing whether the prisoners ate their rations with any appearance of relish after their labour.
In the yard which we visited, the men were being exercised imtü the repast was ready ;
marching up and down in a long chain, as smartly as if the object was to put a finishing
edge upon their appetites. Big tubs, filled with thick gruel, had been carried into the
dining-sheds, and a pint measure of the limpid paste had been poured into the tin mugs,
and this, together with a spoon and the 6| ounces of bread, were ranged down the narrow
strips of tables, that extend in three rows the whole length of the place. As the clock
struck two, the file of prisoners in the yard received an order to "Halt," and, after a
moment's rest, the word of command was given to take their places at the table. Then the
chain moved to the door ; and, as each human link entered, he took off his old stocking¬
like cap, and passing down between the forms reached his seat. The men sat still for a
second or two, with the smoking gruel before them, imtil the order was given to " Draw up
tables !" and instantly the long light " dressers" were, with a sudden rattle, pulled close to
the men. Then the warder, taking off his cap, cried out, "Pay attention to grace!" and
every head was bent down as one of the prisoners repeated these words :—
" Sanctify, we beseech thee, 0 Lord, these thy good things to our use, and us to thy
service, through the grace of Jesus Christ." A shout of "Amen ! " followed, and directly
afterwards the tinkling of the spoons against the tin cans was heard, accompanied by the
peculiar sound resembling " snifBng," that is made by persons eating half-liquid messes
348
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON".
liberation of prisoners from coldbath fields house of correction.
■\vitli a spoon. Tavo prisoners, carrying boxes of salt, passed along in front of the tables,
from man to man, Avhile each in his turn dipped his spoon in and helped himself. Ihe
"good things," as the water-gruel and bit of bread are ironically termed in the grace, were
soon despatched, and then the men, reaching each little sack of books which had been sus¬
pended above their heads from the ceiling, like so many fly-catchers, passed the remainder
of their dinner-hour reading.
There is one point in the prison dietary for Avhich we can see no sufficing reason. AU
prisoners committed to jail for fourteen days and under (and whose crimes are therefore the
lightest) are made to live on gruel and bread, whilst those whose term of imprisonment
exceeds fourteen days and does not extend to tivo months, obtain a somewhat improved diet ;
and aU sentenced to any term above two months (and Avho have therefore been guilty of the
heaviest offences) are allowed meat or soup every day, and, indeed, partake of the best kind
of food permitted by law in a prison.
The dietary adopted at Coldbath Fields is based upon that recommended by the prison
inspectors, and ordered by Her Majesty's Secretary of State for the Home Department. It
differs, however, slightly in the weight of food. Thus, the daily aUowance of bread recom¬
mended by the government for prisoners confined for terms under fourteen days is 24 oz.,
whilst that served out at the House of Correction is Umited to 20 oz. Again, the House of
Correction prisoners, who are sentenced to more than fourteen days and less than two months,
have their breakfast and dinner bread docked of a slight weight ; but, on the other hand, the
meat served twice a-week is doubled. Therefore, the criminals who suffer the most, owing to
this difference between the government and county aUowances of food, are those who have
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
349
been guilty of the slightest oifences, i.e., the class whose term of imprisonment does not
exceed fourteen days.
In framing the prison dietaries, the length of the term to which the prisoner is condemned
has been taken into considerationj and for the following reasons:—''Imprisonment," say
the authorities, "has naturally a depressing influence over the mind, which greatly diminishes
the powers of nutrition in the body, and the longer the term the more marked wül be the
eflect." To counteract this evil, recourse is had to the stimulus afibrded by an increase of
food—the loss of health and strength being, as Sir James Graham has humanely expressed it,
"a punishment not contemplated by law, and which it is unjust and cruel to inflict."
Fiebt Class — i.e., all Prisoners
whose terms of Imprisonment
exceed two Months.
Second Class—i.e., all Prisoners whose
terms of Imprisonment do not ex¬
ceed two months, and do exceed
fourteen days.
Tbxed Class — i e., all
Prisoners whose terms
of Imprisonment are
14 days and under.
Days.
Breakfaat.
Dinner.
Supper.
Breakfast
Dinner.
Supper.
Breakfast.
Dinner.
Supper.
'S
C6
'S
(C
(U
s
P.
9
'6
'S
S3
v
'6
OD
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d
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es
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&
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s
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S
Ph
00
n
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«
O
CQ
s
00
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n
6
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o
»
o
Monday .
Tuesday .
Wednesday
1 Thursday .
Friday . .
Saturday .
Sunday. .
Oz.
6Î
6f
H
6«
n
Pint
1
1
I
1
1
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Oz.
6»
6Î
6|
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6|
Oz.
6
6
"é
"s
Oz.
8
8
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*8
Fini
j'i
ïj
H
Oz.
6S
n
Si
6f
el
6|
Pint
1
1
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Oz.
i
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Pint
I
1
I
1
I
1
1
Oz.
6f
6Ï
1
6Î
6i
Oz.
"e
"e
Oz.
"i
*8
Plot
"i
"i
Pint
1
"i
1
Oz.
6Î
6Î
6Î
6i
6S
6Í
65
Pmt
Oz.
65
®l
65
65
6*
Pint
1
1
1
I
1
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1
Oz.
65
65
65
65
65
65
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Pint
1
1
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65
65
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Pint
4
4
j
46|
7
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24
32
46|
7
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12
16
2
3
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8è
465
7
465
7
46|
34
Hence, the greater allowance of diet granted to the longer sentence men rests upon the
fact that the minds of such prisoners are more depressed than those committed for a shorter
period. The meat and soup for dinner are given as a species of medicine, which the short-
term men, who carry to jail a body healthy with recent liberty and a mind supported by the
knowledge of a speedy liberation, are not supposed to require.
But is this really so ? Which of these two classes of men, the one who enters a prison
for the first time, or the one who has been recommitted again and again, is the more likely
to be affected by his degraded position ? First offenders are seldom severely pxinished, whereas
the old jail-birds, after many recommitments, get heavy sentences. The man, therefore,
who is sent to prison for a few days, is likely to be more depressed than he who is committed
for two years.
That the greatest mental depression is experienced on first entering a prison, there are
numerous and convincing proofs. The cases of suicide in a jail are those committed by
newly-arrived criminals. Whenever a prisoner has attempted to starve himself to death, it
has generally been at the commencement of his incarceration, and it is only after he has in a
measure become reconciled, by a few days' sojourn, to the scenes around him, that he has
relented of his purpose, and taken food.
Again, is not this rule of giving better diet to long-term prisoners productive of evü, as
offering a premium, as it were, for heavy offences ? The professed thieves, many of whom
pass a good part of their Kves in a jail, are well acquainted with the discipline and dietary
of every prison in the Metropolis. They are aware that gruel and bread await them if they
attempt and fail in some petty imdertaking ; and therefore manage so that by a three months'
committal they can enjoy the luxury of the highest class of diet, or that which provides meat
or soup for their dinner every day out of the seven. We must bear in mind that, with this class
of society, food forms one of the greatest enjoyments; indeed, aE the gains of their robberies
are disposed of in eating and drinking, and other animal propensities; so strongly, indeed,
25
350
THE GKËAT WOHLD OF LONDOÍ».
are they influenced by the quantity of their meals, that very lately a prisoner at Coldbath
Fields, on the mere supposition that the bread served to him at dinner was smaller than that
of his neighbour, was so angered, that, breaking open one of the warder's boxes, he obtained
possession of a knife, and, two days after the imaginary wrong had been committed, stabbed
the officer whom he taxed as the author of it.*
• TABLE OP EXPENDITURE AND RECEIPTS OF COLDBATH FIELDS PRISON IN THE YEAR 1854, COMPARED
WITH THE AVERAGE FOR ALL OTHER PRISONS IN 1853.
COST OF PRISON PER ANNUM.
RECEIPTS OF PRISON PER ANNUM.
Total cost of Prison Diet and Extra
Allowances, by order of
the Surgeon, and Wine,
Beer, &c.
,, Male Clothing, Bedding,
and Straw
,, Officers' Salaries and Ra¬
tions, and Pensions to
Retired Officers
„ Fuel, Soap, and other
cleansing materials. Oil
and Gas .
,, Stationery, Printing, and
Books, Furniture and
Utensil^, &c.. Rent,
Rates, and Taxes
,, Support of Prisoners re¬
moved under Contract to
be confined In other Ju¬
risdictions, and removal
of Convicts and Prison¬
ers to and from Trial,
and to other Prisons for
punishment, &c.
„ Sundry Contingencies not
enumerated
Total expenses for the Prison for the
year, not including Re¬
pairs, Alterations, and
Additions
„ Repairs^ Alterations, and
Additions in and about
the Prison in the course
of the year
Repayment of Principal or Interest
of Money Borrowed
Grand Total
Daily average number of Prisoners.
Gross Cost
per Annum.
8, d,
12,617 11
1,665 11
11,014 2 8
1,475 14 8
630 15 0
955 5
1,708 18
30,067 18 1
928 14 2
30,996 12 3
Average Cost per
Prisoner per Ann.
Coldbath
Fields.
All other
Prisons in
England
and
Wales.
£ 8. d.
9 1
1 4
7 18 8i
1 1 3
0 9 1
0 13
1 4
n
21 13
0 IS
22 6 7
1,386
Gross cost of Prison, per head, per annum, exclusive
of repairs £21
£ s. d,
6 4 11
17 2
10 7 6
1 19 6
0 13 93
0 12 93
1 1 93
21 7 53
2 9 5
2 12 93
26 9 Si
16,691
13 2i
£
Net Profit received for
manufacturing or
other Work done by
the Prisoners . 2,056
Estimated Profit of
Work or Labour done
by the Prisoners for
the benefit of the
County, City, or Bo¬
rough . . 4,320 12
d* £ tf. ds
7 7
8
Gross Earnings of Prisoners . 6,377
Amount received for Subsistence of
Military and Naval Prisoners
Amount received for the Support of
Vagrants.*
A mount received from Treasury for
Removal of Ti ansports .
Amount received for the Subsist¬
ence of Revenue Prisoners
Amount charged to Treasury for
Maintenance of Prisoners con¬
victed at Assizes and Sessions,
and Weekly Rate per head . 9,509
Other Receipts . . . 259
0 3
52 13 0
9 17 1
81 10 9
176 11 6
Total
£16,466 2 5
Average Earnings of each Prisoner
per annum . , . 4 11 loj
Ditto on all Prisons of England and
Wales . . . .216
• This is money found in possession of vagrants
ivhile begging, and ordered by the committing
magistrate to go towards their support in
prison.
NETT COST OP THE PRISON TO THE COUNTY FOR THE TEAR, ETC.
Total Expenses of the Prison for the year, not including Repairs, Alterations, and Additions
Total Receipts of Ditto .........
Cost to the County, City, or Borough, not Including Repairs, Alterations, or Additions
Repairs, Alterations, and Additions during the year . . .
Total Expenses of the Prison for the year, including Repairs, Alterations, and Additions, and
excluding Receipts ..... ....
£ s. d.
30,067 18 1
16,466 2 5
13,601 15 8
928 14 2
14,630 9 10
Nett cost of each Prisoner, at Coldbath Fields, per annum . . . £10 9 4^
i> „ in all Prisons of England and Wales, per annum . 18 8 0}
,1 „ at Coldbath Fields, per diem . . . . 0 0 6}
I, „ in all Prisons of England and Wales, per diem . 0 10
Now, by the above comparative table, we perceive that the average ffrots cost of Coldhath Fields prison ii
HOUSE OF COERECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS.
351
"We can see no sure remedy for these dietary evils, but by the introduction into prison
management of the principle we have before spoken of—that of making the increased com¬
fort of the prisoner dependent upon his own labour. Let "punishment diet" be the only
eleemosynary allowance ; but, at the same time, give each class of criminals alike the oppor¬
tunity of adding meat to their meal, by making the luxury contingent upon a certain quantity
of work done.* Let such a task be the price of so much food, and not only will it be foimd
to act as a premium and incentive to the industrious, but it will have the still more beneficial
effect of proving to those who least understand the value and object of labour, that it has its
rewards and consolations ; and that the same strength which was employed and failed in
breaking open a door or forcing a lock would, if devoted to more honourable pursuits, be
a fraction less than the average for all the other prisons of England and Wales ; for, though the average
expense of the diet for each prisoner is nearly as much as 75 per cent, more than the average coat per prisoner
for all England and Wales, the average cost of management (notwithstanding the exigences of the silent
system) is upwards of 30 per cent, less, whilst the cost of bedding, as well as of lighting, washing, and cooking,
are also considerably below the mean. On the other hand, the average nett annual cost of each prisoner at Cold-
bath Eields is as much as 75 per cent, less than the average nett cost for all other prisons. This is owing partly
to the earnings of the prisoners at Coldbath Fields being over-estimated (see ante, p. 318), so that, whilst the
average sum annually earned by each prisoner throughout England and Wales is £2 Is. 5d., the individual
earnings at Coldbath Fields are made to appear as high as £4 lis. 10|<f. per annum ; hut it is principally due
to the fact, that the sum charged to the Treasury for the maintenance of prisoners convieted at assizes and
sessions amounts (at 4s. per head per week) to no less than £9,500 ; and, as this is very nearly one-third of
the gross cost of Coldbath Fields prison, it is manifest that the nett cost of that establishment to the country
must fall considerably under the mean.
• Since writing the preceding article, the Nineteenth Report of the Inspectors of Prisons has been pub¬
lished ; and as this furnishes us with the means of comparing the proportion of punishments at the Middlesex
House of Correction with that of all other prisons throughout England and Wales, we append the following
table :—
tablk comparino the numbee op punishments, as well as theie per centage to the gross prison
population, at coldbath fields house op correction, with the number and per centage at
all other prisons in england and wales.
punishuknts.
Coldbath Fields, 1854-5Ö.
Gross Frison Population, 9,180.
Pkisuns of all England and
Wales, 1853.
Gross Prison Population, | «« on.
Adult Males. . .
&
c
.á¡
*3 .
«h -g
o ä
-o g
No. of
punisliments.
Per eentage of
punisliments
to gross prison
population.
No. of
Punishments.
Per centage of
punishments
to gross prison
population.
o ®
00 o,
00
v
o
H
»
Placed in handcuffs and other irons . .
Whipped
Confined in dark and solitary cells . .
Stoppage of diet and other punishments
2
5
470
8,546
•02
•05
S^ll
9309
70
115
9,743
32,928
•07
•11
10-05
33-98
— -05
— -06
— 4-93
+59-20
Total
9,023
98-27
42,856
44-11
+5416
Hence, we perceive that whilst at Coldbath Fields the heavier punishments, such as handcuffs, whip¬
ping, and confinement in dark or solitary cells, are, in round numbers, 6 per cent, less than at other
prisons, the slighter punishments there, such as stoppage of diet, are, within a fraction, as much as 60 per
cent. more.
It is hut just to add, before closing this article, that the governor of Coldbath Fields prison remonstrates
against the opinion given (at p. 336) as to the effects of the " star system and it would certainly appear,
from the subjoined return, that that gentleman is right and ourselves wrong. It is due to our own judgment
however, to say, that our ideas on the subject were derived from communications with the warders of the
prison, and that they seem to have formed their opinions somewhat too hastily. The governor says, " I deny
that the worst men are the best-conducted prisoners and in proof of the statement, he furnishes us with the
25'
352
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
sure to succeed in gaining an honest and reputable existence ; so that, when they quit prison,
they may leave it intent on earning their own living for the future.*
annexed table, showing that the smallest proportion of stars (viz., per cent.) is obtained by the old "jail¬
birds," and the greatest proportion (58 per cent.) gained by those who have never been in prison before:—
table showino the sentences and number op re-committals op the prisoners obtaining "staks"
at coldbath pield8 prison :
Sentences.
Men.
Stars.
Per
centage.
Sentences.
Men.
Stars.
Per
centage.
c
o
Under 6 months .
7
7
a?
Under 6 months . .
'fe «
6 and under 12 . .
70
SI
§.2
.2 «
6 and under 12 . .
7
8
12 and upwards . .
103
185
0.« 1
ä.2
12 and upwards . .
17
36
¡2;
Total. .
180
273
58
'-I if
Total. . . .
24
44
9è
'.n prison
ice before.
Under 6 months . .
6 and under 12 .
12 and upwards . .
2
26
54
2
28
101
In prison more
than twice
before.
Under 6 months . .
6 and under 12 . .
12 and upwards . .
1
1
5
1
1
9
o
^ Total ....
82
131
30
, Total ....
7
11
91
Men. Stars.
Total number of stars worn on 2nd August, 1856 293 459
number op STABS PAID for on DISCHARGE, prom 18TH june to 18TH august, 1856 :—
To prisoners sentenced to To prisoners sentenced to To prisoners sentenced to
less than six months. 6 months and under 12. 12 months and upwards.
Men. Stars. Men. Stars. Men. Stars.
69 69 80 122 37 110
No account as to former imprisonments.
N.B.—Several men sentenced to three months are paid for stars on discharge, if they have not been
reported ; but these never wear the stars, as they are discharged when entitled to them.
Against such arguments it is impossible to say a word, except to acknowledge ourselves in fault, which
we do most readily. The governor adds, with exemplary consideration for those under his care, " In many
cases I think it advisable to reward men for good conduct, and to give prisoners, on discharge, some chance
of looking for honest employment, if so disposed."
The star system appears, also, to be beneficial as inducing conformity to discipline by means of rewards,
rather than enforcing it by means of punishments. The only external motives to human conduct are some
such rewards and punishments ; both lead to the same end, but the one attains the object by attraction and
the other by repulsion. As in a magnet, these attractions and repulsions (of rewards and punishments) are
the two forces that induce motion, in human beings, in a given direction. Some men, it must be admitted,
require deterrents or repellents to cause them to act as we wish ; such characters seem to be comparatively
deficient in the attractive qualities of human nature, or, in other words, almost incapable of being moved by
some prospective good. Nevertheless, all persons are assuredly not of this kind, and therefore stars and
good-conduct badges strike us as being excellent methods of leading men to comply with discipline, and those
prison rules and regulations which are necessary for the orderly government of a jail. Hence the star
system, judiciously applied, is likely to prove an admirable mode of reducing the amount of punishments at
Coldbath Fields prison ; and no one would rejoice at such a result more than the writer of this article—
unless, indeed, it were the governor himself.
* It gives us, likewise, great pleasure to be able to record the fact here, that since writing the preceding
remarks on the silent system, the governor of Coldbath Fields, ever ready to avail himself of any suggestion
as to the improvement of the characters of those under his charge, has tried the plan of reading aloud, as
proposed (at p. 335) in this work; and we are happy to add, in the words of the governor himself, "it answers
very well." With commendable prudence. Captain Colvill made the experiment first in the smaller work-
roomB, saying that he feared " it would lead to irregularity where many were together." In a later commu¬
nication to us, however, he writes, " the reading aloud seems to answer very well, and I am trying it with
greater numbers. It was proposed by one of our visiting justices some time back." All honour, then, to the
justice for the proposal of such a plan, and to the governor for the execution of iti
HOUSE OF COERECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
353
ENTRANCE TO TOTHILL FIELDS PRISON.
H ii.
TEE MIDDLESEX HOUSE OF CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS,
(FOR FEMALE AND JUVENILE OFFENDERS).
There is no quarter of the Metropolis impressed with such strongly-marked features as
the episcopal city of "Westminster. We do not speak of that vague and straggling electoral
Westminster, which stretches as far as Kensington and Chelsea to the west, and even Temple
Bar to the east ; hut of that Westminster proper—that triangular snip of the Metropolis
which is hoimded by the Vauxhall Road on one side, St. James's Park on another, and
by the Thames on the third—that Westminster which can boast of some of the noblest and
some of the meanest buildings to be found throughout London (the grand and picturesque
old Abbey, and the filthy and squalid Duck Lane—the bran-new and ornate Houses of Parlia¬
ment, and the half-dilapidated and dingy old Almonry)—which is the seat'at once of the great
mass of law-makers and law-breakers—where there are more almshouses, and more prisons,
and piore schools (the "Gray-coat," the "Blue-coat," the "Green-coat," and the more
modem " Ragged," or No-coat, for instance, as weU as the ancient and honourable one bearing
the name of the city itself)—more old noblemen's mansions and more costermongers' hovels—
more narrow lanes, and courts, and more broad unfinished highways—whose Hall is fre¬
quented by more lawyers, and whose purlieus are infested by more thieves—whose public-
houses are resorted to by more paviors—^whose streets are thronged by more soldiers—on
whose door-steps sit more hare-headed wantons—and whose dry arches shelter more vaga-
354
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
bond urchins than are to be noted in any other part of the Metropolis—ay, and perhaps in
any other part of the world.
*»* Of the old "Spitals," Sanctuaries, and "Lakes," and the modern "Rookeries."—
Yet much of the incongruous character of modem Westminster may be traced back to the
peculiarities of the ancient city. Parent Du Chatelet, the celebrated French statist, has
shown that the Quartier de la Cité in Paris, which is now the headquarters of the French
thieves, was formerly the site of a well-known sanctuary; and so it was with the City of
Westminster itself.
"The church at Westminster hath had," says Stow, "great privilege of sanctuary
within the precinct thereof ; from whence it hath not been lawful for any prince or other to
take any person that fled thither for any cause." Edward the Confessor, according to the old
London historian, granted it a charter, in which were these words :—" I order and estab¬
lish for ever, that what person, of what condition or estate soever he be, from whence
soever he'come, or for what offence or cause it be, whether for his refuge unto the said holy
church (of the blessed Apostle of St. Peter, at Westminster), he he assured of his life, liberty,
and limbs, * * * * and whosoever presumes or doth contrary to this my grant, I will
hee lose his name, worship, dignity, and power, and that with the great traytor, Judas,
that betraied our Saviour, he he in the everlasting flre of hell."
This sanctuary. Stow tells us, extended to the ehurch, churehyard, and close. " At
the entrance of the close," he says, in another part, "there is a lane that leadeth towards
the west, called ' Thieving Lane,' " (this is now styled Princes Street, and runs from Storey's
Gate to the open space which is in front of the Ahhey, and still bears the name of the
Sanctuary) ; "for that thieves," he adds, " were led that way to the gate-house while the
Sanctuary continued in force."*
• Under the dominion of the Normans there appear to have existed two kinds of sanctuary, or places o
protection to criminals and debtors from arrest—one general, which belongs to every church—the other
peculiar, which originated in a grant, by charter, from the king.
The general sanctuary afforded a refuge to those only who had heen guilty of capital felonies. On reaching
it, the felon was bound to declare that he had committed felony, and came to save his life. By the common
law of England, if a person, guilty of felony (excepting sacrilege), fled to a parish church or churchyard for
sanctuary, he might, within forty days afterwards, go clothed in sackcloth before the coroner, confess the full
particulars of his guilt, and take an oath to abjure the kingdom for ever—swearing not to return unless the
king's license were granted him to do so. Upon making his confession and taking his oath, he became
attainted of the felony ; he had forty days, from the day of his appearance before the coroner, allowed him to
prepare for his departure, and the coroner assigned him such port as he chose for his embarkation, whither
the felon was boimd to repair immediately, with a cross in his hand, and to embark with all convenient
speed. If he did not go directly out of the kingdom, or if he afterwards returned into England, without
license, he was condemned to be hanged, unless he happened to be a clerk, in which case he was allowed the
benefit of clergy.
A. peculiar sanctuary might (if such privilege were granted by the king's charter) afford a place of refuge
even to those who had committed high or petty treason ; and a person escaping thither might, if he chose,
remain undisturbed for life. He still, however, had the option of taking the oath of abjuration, and quitting
the realm for ever.
Sanctuary, however, seems in neither case to have been allowed as a protection to those who escaped
from the sheriff after having been delivered to him for execution.
" The right of sanctuary," says Mr. Timbs, " was retained by Westminster after the dissolution of the
monasteries, &c., in 1540. Sanctuary men were allowed to use a whittle only at their meals, and compelled
to wear a badge. They could not leave the precinct, without the Dean's license, between sunset and
sunrise." In the Westminster Sanctuary were two cruciform churches, built one above the other, and the
lower one in the form of a double cross ; the upper one is supposed, by Dr. Walcott, to have been for debtors
and the inhabitants of the Broad and Little Sanctuaries, whilst the lower one is said to have been appropri¬
ated to criminals. The privilege of sanctuary caused the houses within the precinct to let for high rents ;
but this privilege was totally abolished in 1623, by James I., though the bulk of the houses which composdd
the precinct was not taken down till 1760. To the Westminster Sanctuary, Judge Tresilian {temp.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
355
It is well known that there were formerly many other such sanctuaries, or " privileged
places," throughout London. From Edward the Confessor's time to the Reformation (a
period of about five hundred years), any place or building that was consecrated by the clergy
for religious uses served to screen offenders from the justice of the law and the sentence
passed upon them for their crimes. There were likewise several privileged places, in which
persons were secure from arrest. These were principally the old Mint, in Southwark ; the
Minories, and St. Katharine's Hospital, about the Docks ; Fulwood's Rents, and Baldwin's
Gardens, in Gray's Inn Lane ; and Whitefriars (vulgarly called Alsatia), between Fleet
Street and the Thames.*
Now, with the exception of "Whitefriars, the old sanctuaries and privileged places con¬
tinue to this day to be the principal nests of the London beggars, prostitutes, and thieves.
True there are other quarters, such as St. Giles and the purlieus of Brick Lane, Spitalfields,
that are infested by a like ragged, wretched, and reckless population; but these will be
found to have been originally the sites of hospitals, either for the poor or the diseased.f
The two largest of the old leper hospitals in London, for instance, were those of St. James,
Westminster, and St. Gües-in-the-Fields. There was also a celebrated " Lohe," or leper
hospital, in Kent Street, in the Borough, and this is now one of the worst districts in the
Metropolis; whilst Spitalfields was the site of an ancient almshouse. J
Ilichard II.) fled for refuge; but was dragged thence to Tyburn, and there hanged. In 1460, Lord Scalds, as
he was seeking sanctuary at Westminster, was murdered on the Thames. Elizabeth Woodville, queen of
Edward IV., escaped from the Tower, and registered herself and her family " Sanctuary women," and here,
" in great penury, forsaken of all friends," she gave birth to Edward V., " bom in sorrow, and baptized
like a poor man's child." She is described by More, as sitting " alow on the rushes" in her grief. Here,
too, Skelton, the satirist, found shelter from the revengeful hand of Cardinal Wolsey. One Eobert Hawley,
Esquire, moreover, escaped from the Tower, and took sanctuary at Westminster ; whereupon the Tower
Constable, Sir Alan Boxhull, followed him to the church, and kUled him in the choir, at the time of high
mass (11th August, 1378). After this the church was closed for four months, and BozhuU and his followers
excommunicated.
* The Southwark Mint was, perhaps, the most notorious of aU the London places of refuge. It became,
we are told, early au asylum for debtors, coiners, and vagabonds, as well as for " traitors, felons, fugitives,
outlaws, &c., together with such as refused the law of the land." It was one of the haunts of Jack
Sheppard, and Jonathan Wild kept his horses at the Duke's Head, in Red Cross Street. Indeed, the Mint
at length got to be such a pest, that special statutes (8th and 9th of William III., and 9th and 11th
George I.) were passed, ordering the abolition of its privileges ; and one of these acts relieved all debtors
who had taken sanctuary in the Mint from their creditors, provided the claims against them were under £50.
The exodus of the refugee-felons and debtors, in July, 1723, after the passing of the 9th of George I., is
described as having been like one of the Jewish tribes going out of Egypt, for the train of " Minters" is
said to have included some thousands in its ranks, and the road towards Guildford (whither they were
journeying to be cleared at the Quarter Sessions, of their debts and penalties) to have been positively
covered with the cavalcade of caravans, carts, horsemen, and foot-travellers.— Weekly Journal, Saturday,
July 20, 1723.
In 1442, the district of the hospital of " St. Katharine's, at the Tower," was made a royal precinct, and
no one could be arrested there for debt, except by an order from the Board of Green Cloth.—Timbd London.
Mr. Cunningham also tells us, "that the privileges of sanctuary, which continued to the precinct of
Whitefriars after the dissolution, were confirmed and enlarged, in 1608, by Royal Charter. Fraudulent
■debtors, prostitutes, and other outcasts of society, made it a favourite retreat. Here they formed a community
of their own, adopted the language of pickpockets, openly resisted the execution of any legal process, and,
extending their cant terms to the place they lived in, new-named their precinct by the well-known appella¬
tion of Aliatia."
f " A hospital, or ' 'spital,' signified a charitable institution for the advantage of poor, infirm, and aged
persons—an almshouse in short ; while ' epittles' were mere lazar-houses, receptacles for wretches in the
leprosy and other diseases—the consequence of debauchery and vice."—Oifford : Note to Massinget's Works.
J St. Giles, we are told, was so named after an hospital for lepers that was dedicated to the saint, and
built on the site of a small church upon the ground occupied by the present edifice—the gardens and pre¬
cincts extending between High Street and Crown Street and west of Meux's brewery. This was founded
356
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
It would appear, then, that the several "rookeries," or vagabond colonies distributed
throughout the Metropolis, were originally the sites either of some sanctuary, or refuge for
felons and debtors, or else of some "spital" or "loke" for the reception of the poor, the
impotent, or the leprous ; and that the districts in which such asylums were situate thus
came to be each the nucleus or nidm of a dense criminal and pauper population. For as
the felon of the present day is at times found among the partakers of the eleemosynary
hospitality of -the " casual ward," and the vagrant often numbered among the in-door
patients of our hospitals for the sick, so is it probable that the ancient " sanctuary-men"
occasionally mixed with the diseased congregation crowded around some old metropolitan
" loke," or else formed one of the horde of beggars that swarmed about the precincts of the
obsolete religious houses and spitpls. Hence around each such sacred spot a heterogeneous
outcast tribe got to be gathered, and these doubtlessly were left to dwell and intercommune
alone, shunned, as they must have been, by all decent people, either for their crimes, their
maladies, or their filth and squalor.
But not only must such a refuse race have intercommuned apart from the rest of London
society, and each individual thus have tended to render his neighbours worse than they were
by nature or habit, but they would have interlred with the lowest class of women,* and so
have served to render every one of the old "religious" haunts positive nests of vice,
misery, and disease—^hatching felons, lepers, and mendicants, Kke vipers in a muck-heap.
Surely, if it be possible to procreate gout, consumption, and insanity—if these subtle
derangements of the human constitution are capable of being spawned from father to
child, it is far from improbable that an outcast race, such as that which must have been
at the beginning of the twelfth century, by Matilda, queen of Henry I. ; and Henry VIII., soon after the
dissolution of religious houses, converted the chapel of the hospital into a parish church, of the name of St.
Gilefs'-in-the-Fields. "Edward III,," says a document quoted by Stow, "sent commandement that all
leprous persons within the saide citie and suburbes should avoid, within fifteen daies, and no man sufier any
such leprose person to abide within his house, upon paine to forfeit his saide house, and to incurre the hinge's
further displeasure. And that the sheriffs should cause the said lepers to be removed into some out places of
the Jieldes, from the haunt and compony of all sound people ; whereupon it followed that the citizens required
of the guardian of St. Giles' Hospital, to take from them, and to keep continually the number of fourteene
persons, according to the foundation of Mathilde the queen."
About the year 1413 the gallows was removed from the Elms in Smithfield to the north end of the garden
wall of St. Giles' Hospital ; and, when the gallows was again removed to Tyburn, " St. Giles' became,"
says Mr. Timbs, " a sort of half-way house for condemned criminals," owing to the custom of giving a bowl
of ale, at the hospital gate, to every malefactor on his way to execution—a practice which was afterwards
continued, we are told, at an " hostel " built upon the site of the monastic house, and which served to give
a moral taint to the neighbourhood. In the time of the Puritans, St. Giles' was a refuge for the persecuted
tipplers and ragamuffins of London and Westminster. St. Giles' was first colonized by the Irish immigrants
in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
Spitalfields, on the other hand, was named from its having been the site and property of the priory and
hospital of St. Mary Spittle, Without Bishopgate, and founded, 1197, by Walter Brune, citizen of London,
and Rosia his wife, for Augustine canons. At the dissolution of religious houses, in 1534, it had 130 beds
for the receipt of the poor of this charity.
• Such women had generally a special district set apart for them in the olden times, and this was mostly
near some " privileged place." " Next on this bank,'' says Stow, speaking of Bankside at Southwark,
" was some time the Bordello, or Stewes, a place so called of certain stew-houses, privileged there for the
repair of incontinent men to the like incontinent women. I find," he adds, " that, in the, 4th of Kichard II.,
these stew-houses belonged to William Walworth, then Lord Mayor of London, and were farmed Toy froes
(Jraue) of Flanders; but were spoiled bv Wat Tyler and other rebels of Kent. ♦ • • These allowed stow-
hoiues," he further tells us, " had signs on t'jeir fronts towards the Thames—not hanged out, but painted
on the walls—as 'the Boar's Head,' 'the Ctoss Keys,' 'the Gun,' 'the Castle,' 'the Crane,' 'the Cardinal's
Hat !' ' the Bell,' ' the Swan,' &c. I have heard ancient men of good credit report, that these single women
were forbidden the rites of the Church so long as they continued their sinful life, and were excluded from
Christian burial, if they were not reconciled before their death. Therefore there was a plot of ground, called
'the single women's churchyard.' appointed for them, far from the parish church."
liO\H K.\KI;iJl.SlN(i AT TOTHILL FIELDS I'lilSON.
HOUSE GE CORRECTION, TOTHILL EIELDS.
357
huddled round the sites of the ancient London sanctuaries and hospitals, should beget
natures like their own—deficient alike in. moral and physical energy, and therefore not
only averse to the drudgery of regular labour, but incapable of that continued tension
of the wiR which men call moral purpose or principle. If Jews engender Jews, with
minds and characters almost as Hebraic as their noses-^if gipsy blood have a tendency
to induce a propensity for gipsy habits—^if, in fine, there be the least truth in ethnology,
or, indeed, in the principles which regulate improvements in the breeding merely of
"stock," then assuredly must there be a greater chance of habitual thieves and beggars
begetting kindred natures to their own, rather than the opposite. Accordingly, ethnic crime
and pauperism would appear, not only to be consistent with the ordinary laws of human
life, but to be as natural as hereditary insanity, to which, indeed, it seems to bear a faint
similitude; for, as in cases of mental disease, the faculty of attention is well known to be the
first to exhibit symptoms of derangement, so the temperament of the habitual criminal is
invariably marked by a comparative incapability of continuous application to any one subject
or pursuit, whilst the same bodily restlessness as characterises the limatic, is also the distinc¬
tive type of the vagrant.*
The old sanctuaries and spitals, or places of refuge and shelter, continued in full force
until the dissolution of the religious houses, which took place principally between 1534—9,
and at the same period several statutes (26th, 27th, and 37th Henry VIII.) were passed,
regulating, limiting, and partially abolishing the privilege of refuge.f This change, history
tells us, was followed by what has been termed the " age of beggars and thieves;" for,
though we have no definite account as to the numbers of outcasts and mendicants harboured
by the reUgjous houses in the olden time, nevertheless the statements as to the proportion
of beggars and priests, to the rest of the population, in the foreign episcopal cities, at the
period of their dissolution by the French army under the Revolution, wiR give us some
notion as to the hordes of paupers and criminals that must have formerly been maintained
among us under such a system.|
When, therefore, the parasitical multitudes infesting the neighbourhood of the old abbeys
and monasteries, &c., came to be deprived of their ordinary means of subsistence, by the
stoppage of the alms, in consequence of the dissolution of the institutions upon which they
• These criminal or mendicant races are by no means peculiar to our own country. According to Dr.
Andrew Smith's observations in South Africa, almost every tribe of people there who have submitted them¬
selves to social laws, and recognised the rights of property and the reciprocal moral duties of a civilized caste,
are surrounded by hordes of vagabonds and outcasts from their own community. Such are the Bushmen and
the " Sonquas" of the Hottentot race—the term Sonqua meaning, literally, pauper. The Kafirs, again, hâve
their Bushmen as well as the Hottentots, and these are called Fingoes"—a word signifying beggars, wan¬
derers, or outcasts. The Lappes, moreover, seem to have home a somewhat similar relation to the Finns ;
that is to say, they appear to have been a wild and predatory tribe, who sought the desert, like the Arabian
Bedouins, whilst the Finns cultivated the soil like the more industrious Fellahs. Further, such outcast para¬
sitical tribes are distinguished by certain characteristics, which not only belong to them generally, but also
agree with the propensities of our own vagrant and thievish population ; viz., a repugnance to regular and
continuous labour—a want of providence in laying up stores for their future sustenance—the adoption of a
secret language as a means of disguising their designs—a love of gambling and delight in all kinds of perilous
adventures—a high admiration of brute courage, or " pluck," as it is called, and tricks of low cunning
as well as a special delight in " sports " which consist principally in watching the sufiferings of sentient
creatures.
t It was not until the 21st of James I. that such places were wholly forbidden. The 28th cap. and 7th
sect, of that Act ordains, that no sanctuary or privilege of sanctuary shall thereafter be admitted or allowed
in any case.
I Cologne, at the time of the oceupation of the " holy city" by the French, at the end of the last cen¬
tury, contained no less than 1,200 beggars, and 2,600 ecclesiastics, out of a population of 90,000 and odd
inhabitants ; so that about one-twenty-fifth part of the entire people consisted of priests and mendicants,
or not lees than one-twentieth, if children be excluded from the calculation.
358
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
depended, it is evident tiat society must have had to deal with a moral pestilence, such as
we in these days can hai'dly conceive. The statutes that were framed at this period, how¬
ever, against vagrants and persons "whole and mighty in body," who refused to work "for
such reasonable wage as was commonly given," may be cited as instances of the state of the
country after the abolition of the old religious houses and privileges. The 27th Henry VIII.,
cap. 25 (a. d. 1536), orders, that a "sturdy beggar is to be whipped the first time he is
detected in begging ; that he is to have his right ear cropped for the second offence ; and, if
again found guilty of begging, he is to be indicted for wandering, loitering, and idleness,
and, when convicted, to suffer execution of death as a felon and an enemy to the common¬
wealth." This Act, however, being found ineffectual from over-severity, another, which
was considered more lenient, was passed in 1547 (1st Edward VI., cap. 3); and, according
to that, every able-bodied person who did not apply himself to some honest labour was to
be taken for a vagabond, branded on the shoulder, and adjudged as a slave for two years to
any one who should demand him; and, if not demanded by any one as a slave, he was to
be kept to hard labour on the highway in chains. During this time he was to be fed on
bread and water and refuse meat, and made to work by being beaten. If he ran away in
the course of his two years' slavery, he was to be branded on the cheek, and adjudged a
slave for life; and if he ran away a second time, he was to suffer death as a felon. Still,
this statute seems to have been almost as useless as the one it repealed, and accordingly,
twenty-five years afterwards, another Act was passed (14th Elizabeth, cap. 5, a. n. 1572),
wherein it was declared, that all persons able to labour, and "not having any land or
master, nor using any lawful craft or mystery," and who should refuse to work, should,
" for the first offence, be grievously whipped and burned through the gristle of the right
ear, with a hot iron of the compass of an inch about;" for the second, such parties should
be deemed felons ; and for the third, they should suffer death as felons, without the benefit of
clergy. Twenty odd years again elapsed, and then the 39th of Elizabeth, caps. 3 and 4, was
enacted, ordaining that every able-bodied person that refused to work for ordinary wages
was to be " openly whipped until his body was bloody, and forthwith sent, from parish to
parish, the most straight way to the parish where he was bom, there to put himself to work
as a trae subject ought to do." Three years subsequent to this again these terrible laws were
changed for the kindlier 43rd Elizabeth, cap. 2, which instituted, for the first time, work¬
houses for the poor, and ordered the overseers to raise sums for providing materials "to set
the poor on work," and also for the relief of lame, blind, old, and impotent persons.
It is manifest, however, that such asylums could have given shelter and employment
only to the honest poor, and that the habitual mendicant and thief, who loved to " shake a
free leg," as it is called by the fraternity, and who preferred cadging and pRfering to industry,
would have looked upon such institutions as little better than prisons, and doubtlessly have
confounded them with the houses of correction that were originally associated with every
workhouse throughout the kingdom.
It was but natural, therefore, that the sites of the old sanctuaries, and spitals, and lokes
should have remained—long after the dissolution of the institutions which originally caused
the crowd of thieves, lepers, and beggars to locate themselves in such quarters—as the
principal abiding places of the " pariah" population throughout the metropolis, and, indeed,
the country in general ; for not only would habit induce such people to continue in the same
place (and the well-to-do are mostly unaware how difficult it is to dislodge the poor from
their old dwellings, even though they be filthy and tumble-down to the last degree), but,
owing to the old " privileged " localities being shunned by all honest and decent people,
they would there be sure at once of meeting with their " old pals," and of getting quit of
the company of all uncongenial characters.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
359
BIKD'S-ETE VIEW OF TOTHILE FIELDS PRISON (SEEN FROM THE BACK).
K ii—
The History, Character, and Discipline of the Prison.
TothiU Fields Prison (or Bridewell, as it was originally called) stands on one of those
Cockney champagne districts—like '¡Á.oaijields, Spital^eZds, ^^ofields, Goodman's-;^eZife, Lock's-
flelds, Lincoln's Inn Fields, St. Giles'-in-the-i^íe?ífe, &c.—which have long since become a
dense mass of bricks and mortar, veined with streets and alleys, and of which every patch of
green sward has been for so many years covered over by the spreading red walls and paving-
stones of the Metropolis, that even "the oldest inhabitant," or the moát ancient chronicle,
cannot tell us where originally stood the celebrated hills and plains whose double existence
is, in the present case, recorded in the name of the "Westminster prison. "Who can point out
to us now the famous hill that once rejoiced in the proud name of "Tot"—ncm, that no
acclivity, with so heavy a " gradient " (to use a term that sprang up with the introduction
of railways) even as that of the far-famed steep of Ludgate, is to be found for many parishes
round—not even from the united " seas," as a magisterial fidend calls them, of " Chel-"
and " Batter-," down to the combined " friars," " White " as well as " Black."
"If a place could exist," wrote Jeremy Bentham, in 1798, " of which it could be said
that it was in no neighbourhood, that place would be Tothill Fields."
Mr. Peter Cunningham, however, teUs us that " Tothill Fields, particularly so called,
comprised that (triangular) portion of land between Tothill Street, Pimlico, and the river
Thames—an uncertain boundary," he adds, " but the best that can be given."*
• " Tothill Fields," says Wykeham Archer, the artist and antiquarian, in his "Vestiges of Old London,"
" were, within three centuries, part of a marshy tract of land lying between Millbank and Westminster
Abbey, and on which stood a few scattered buildings, some of them being the residences of noble personages."
(" Millbank was so called," he adds in a note, " from a mill which occupied the site of the old Peterborough
House." Peterborough House was pulled down in 1809. It stood at the end of the present College Street,
where was formerly the Abbey Water Mill, built by one Nicholas Littlington.) " From the west gate"—(of
the old palace at Westminster, and which gate formerly stood at the entrance to Dean's Yard)—"runneth
along Tothill Street," says Stow. " Heroin is a house of the Lord Gray of Wilton, and on the other side,
at the entry into Tothill Field, Stourton House, which Gyles, the last Lord Dacre of the South, purchased and
860
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDON.
The origin of " TothiU," according to the same author, is " the Toot-hill, or the Beacon
Field;" (Welsh twt, a spring or rising), for not only does an ancient lease, he assures us, so
style a "close" in this neighbourhood, but "there is a-place of the same name near
Caernarvon Castle also called " The Beacon Hül ; " so that, it is suggested, the metropolitan
district now hearing that title was probably, in former times, the highest level in West¬
minster suitable for a beacon.*
These fields, in the reign of Henry III. (1216—1272) formed part of a manor in West¬
minster, belonging to John Hansell, "the king's coimciUor and priest," says Stow, "who
did invite to a stately dinner (at his house at Totehill) the kings and queens of England and
Scotland, with divers courtiers and citizens, and whereof there was such a multitude that
seven hundred messes of meat did not serve for the first dinner.'' By an act passed in the
same reign, 34 Henry III., the Abbot of Westminster was given " leave to keepe a markett
in the Tuthill every Munday, and a faire every yeare, for three days." Two centuries after¬
wards, the fields in the neighbourhood were used for appeals by combat ; and Stow describes
"a combate that was appointed to have been fought," the 18th of June, "in Trinity Tearme,
1571," for a "certain manour or domaine lands," in the Isle of Harty, "adjoining to the
Isle of Sheppey, in Kent," and for which " it was thought good," says the historian, that
"the court should sit in Tuthill Fields, where was prepared one plot of groimd, one and
twenty yardes square, double railed for the combate, without the West Square." In the
time of Nich. Culpepper, the author of the well-known "Serial," these fields were famous
for their parsley. In 1651 (25th August) "the Trained Bands of London, Westminster," &c.,
to the niimber of 14,000, we are told, "drew out into Tuttle Fields." Here, too, were bidlt
the "Five Houses," or "Seven Chimneys," as pest-houses for victims to the plague, and
in 1665 the dead were buried "in the open Tuttle Fields;" and here, some short while
built new"—(this house is still standing in what is now called Bacre Street—a small lane leading out of the
Broadway—and its garden formerly occupied the site that is now styled Strutton Ground)—" whose lady
and wife, Anne, left money to build an hospital for twenty poor women and so many children, which
hospital," adds the old historian, " her executors have new begim in the field adjoining^ This institution
is now known as Dacre's Almshouses, or Emanuel Hospital, and stands in Hopkins' Row, at the back of
York Street.
" From the entry into TothiU Field," Stow proceeds to say, " the street is called Petty France"—(this, again,
is the modem York Street)—" in which, upon St. Hermit's Hill"—(now merely a courts and the name cor¬
rupted into Herman's Hill)—" on the south side thereof, Cornelius Van Dun, a Brabander bom, built twenty
houses for poor women to dwell rent free." These were styled the Red Lion Almshouses, and stood, tiU six
years ago, at the extreme end of York Street, on the tongue of land formed by the junction of that street
with Hopkins' Row at the back, and the site of which is now occupied hy St. Margaret's new workhouse.
It would seem, therefore, that " Totehill Field," as Stow calls it, was but one large plain at the beginning
of the seventeenth century, and that the entrance to it was at the part now styled "the Broadway," West¬
minster—the ancient Petty France, or modem York Street, being the locality which stretches "from it, or at
the end of TothiU Street." In York Street, the site of Van Dun's Almshouses is, as we have said, occupied by
the new workhouse, and at the Broadway the house of Gyles Lord Dacre assuredly stood, since the alms¬
houses, which we are told were erected by his lady and wife, Anne, " on the field adjoining," are stUl standing
in the next street (Hopkins' Row). How far the Totehül Field extended back from the Broadway it is
difficult to state, but it is clear it could not lie " between Millbank and Westminster," as Mr. Archer sug¬
gests, and yet have its entry at the Broadway. Mr. Cunningham's definition, viz., that it comprised the
portion of lands bounded by TothiU Street, Pimlico, and the Thames, is probably more correct.
• Mr. Archer derives TothiU from " Teut," the chief divinity of the Druids, and the equivalent of " Thoth,"
the Egyptian Mercury, saying that the " Tot," or " Thoth " hUl, was the place whence proclamations were
made. An ancient manuscript spells the name " Tuttle," and the Normans, it is well known, caUed the
whole of the abbey and palace pwoinct, south of PaU MaU, " Thorney Island and tout le champ." This, it is
thought, has been clipped first into " tout-le," and then cormpted into " tuttle." " Toot-hiUs," says Mr.
Cunningham, however, " occur in many parts of England, under the several forms of ' Toot,' ' Tut,' ' 7bi,'
♦ Tote,' &c. The same topographical radicle is found in the local titles of Yoiness, Jb/bury, and also Tooiing
and Toiten-ham." In Bocque's map (1746), Toote EiU is marked just at a bend in the Horseferry Road.
HOUSE OF COERECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
361
«ftervarda, "1200 Scotch prisoners, taken at the battle of Worcester," were interred ; for the
accounts of the churchwardens of St. Margaret's, Westminster, says the author of The Sa/nd-
hooh of London, exhibit a payment of " thirty shillings for 67 loads of soil laid on the graves
of TothiU Fields, wherein," it is added, " the Scotch prisoners are buried." Some of the
Scotch were "driven like a herd of swine," says Heath's Chronicle, "through Westminster
to Tuthül Fields," and there sold to several merchants and sent to the Barbadoes.
About the same period the people used to resort to a maze in these same fields, that,
according to an old writer, was " much frequented in the summer-time, in fair afternoons,"
the fields being described as " of great use, pleasure, and recreation " to the king's scholars
and neighbours. And Sir Richard Steele, writing in The Tatter, in 1709, says, "here was
a military garden, a hridewell, and, as I have heard teU, a race-course." A bear-garden,
kept by one Wüliam Wells, stood upon the site of Vincent Square.
Tothill Fields was also, in the seventeenth century, a celebrated dueUing-ground ; the
last " affair of honour" fought there, of which we have any account, took place, it is said,
in 1711, when Sir Chomley Bering was killed by a Mr. Thomhill—the tom-fools fighting
with pistols so near that the muzzles touched.
The "Bridewell" of which Steele spoke as existing in Tothill Fields at the beginning of
the eighteenth century, was erected nearly a hundred years before—viz., in 1618; for in the
garden of the present House of Correction at Westminster, let into the wall that stretches
from the gate between B and C prisons, is a small square stone, about the size of a draught¬
board, with the following inscription nearly erased :—
A Portion of the old
Tothill Fields Prison,
in
1618
taken down Anno Domini
1836.
This ancient prison, say the London chronicles, was altered and enlarged in the year
1655 ; and verily, in corroboration of the statement, we find, in the garden surrounding the
present building, and at some little distance from the before-mentioned tablet, the stone
frame, or skeleton as it were, of the old prison gateway, in shape like the Greek letter TT,
standing by itself as a memorial, at the back of B prison, between what are now the female
work-rooms, but which a few years ago formed the site of the then prevalent tread-wheels.
This cromlech-like relic is covered with ivy, and looks at first more like some piece of imita¬
tion ruin-work than the remains of a prison portal; for the doorway is so primitive in
character (being not more than 5 feet 10 inches high and 3 feet wide), that it seems hardly
bigger than the entrance to a cottage ; nevertheless, an inscription, painted on the lintel
assnres us that it was the
ê^mwM m ©©fiiii: |pg|s®|t, i665.
Taken down and removed to this site Anno Domini 1836.
Moreover, in the wall of what is termed 4 and 5 prison, B side—and just under the
covered bridge that leads from the upper part of the jail here to the chapel over the governor's
house—there is another memorial-stone built into the brickwork, after the fashion of the
3l52
THE GREAT "WORLD OF LONDON.
tablet first described, and in this is cut the following inscription, setting forth the class of
offenders for which the ancient prison was originally designed :—
Here are several Sorts of Work
For the Poor of this Pa/rish of St.
Mm-garet, Westminster,
As also the County according to
LAW, and for such as will Beg and
Live Idle in this City and Liberty
of Westminster,
ANNO 1655.
Thus, then, we perceive that Tothill Fields prison was originally intended as a " bridewell,"
or house of correction, in connection with the parish of St. Margaret, Westminster, i.e., a
place for the "penitentiary amendment" of such "sturdy beggars" and "valiant rogues"
as objected to work, as well as others falliag under the legal description of vagrant.
Hence it would appear that the Tothill Fields BrideweU* (a name that it bore tül almost
within the last few years), was, in the first instance, designed as a penal establishment in
connection with the poor-house, and, like that establishment, originally maintained at the
expense of the county or city, and governed by the justices of the locality.
This old prison, we learn from the chief warder of the present establishment, occupied
the plot of ground which adjoins the north side of the " Green Coat School," and which is
now covered by the line of newly-built shops on the west side of Artillery Row, giving
into Victoria Street, and situate at the north-eastern comer of the new prison itself ; so that—
as this same Green Coat School, or " St. Margaret's Hospital," as it was formerly styled,
was dedicated, as far back as 1633, to the relief of the poor fatherless children of St. Mar¬
garet's parish—it is probable that " the hospital or abiding house " for the poor, and its
next-door neighbour, the "bridewell," or " house of correction," for the compulsory employ¬
ment of such paupers as were " mighty in body" and objected to work, were originally con¬
joint parish institutions—the one for granting relief to the industrious poor, and the other
for punishing the idle ; for the 43rd of Elizabeth, c. 2 (which was passed in the year 1601),
directed the overseers of the poor in every parish " to take order for setting to work the
children of all indigent parents," as weU as all such persons having no means of maintaining
themselves ; and also gave power to the justices to send to the house of correction all able-
bodied persons wbo would not work. Hence these twin establishments of the pauper prison
(or bridewell) and the pauper school—the one erected in 1618, and enlarged in 1655, and the
other established in 1633—were most probably among the first institutions raised for carrying
out the injunctions of the original poor law enacted in 1601.
The feUow house of correction for Middlesex seems to have been originally set up at
Coldbath Fields at about the same period—" in the reign of the first James" (a.D. 1603—25),
says Mr. Dixon.
• " A bridewell," says one of the Middlesex justices, in a letter to us, " is another name for a house of
correction." The City Bridewell, however (Bridge Street, Blackfriars), was, whèn open (it has been closed
for the last two years now), restricted to the reception of unruly apprentices and vagrants, committed to jail
for three months and Use; whereas a house of correction is understood to be a place of safe custody and punish¬
ment, to which offenders are sent when committed either summuily or at sessions, for, generally speaking,
Uvo years and less-
HOUSE OF COERECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
363
But though, originally designed as a bridewell for vagrants, TothiU Fields was converted,
we are told, at the beginning of the eighteenth century (in the reign of Queen Anne,
i.D. 1702—14), into a jail for the confinement of critmñ-als also; and Howard, writing
towards the end of the same century (1777), "describes it," says Mr. Hepworth Dixon,
" as being remarkably well managed at that period, holding up its enlightened and
careful keeper, one George Smith, as a model to other governors."
Some thirty odd years ago, however, the erection of a new prison was decided upon, and
an Act for that purpose obtained in 1826. Then a diiferent site was chosen, and a piece of
land on the western side of the Green Coat School, ^nd near the Vauxhall Bridge .Bead,
having been selected, £16,000 was paid for a plot that was 8 acres 2 roods and 17 poles
in extent, and the foundations commenced.* The designs were furnished by Mr. Eobert
Abraham, and the building, which cost £186,178 19s. 4(?. (says our precise informant),
was finished and opened for the reception of prisoners in the year 1834; after which the
old prison was pulled down, and the relics already described transferred to the new one,
as we have said, in 1836.
The new prison at Tothill Fields is situate on the southern side of Victoria Street, and
has its fi-ont in Francis Street—a small thoroughfare giving into the Vauxhall Bridge Eoad.
According to the guide-books, it is a solid and even handsome structure, and one of great
extent as well as strength. " Seen from Victoria Street," says one London topographer—
though, by the bye, it is in no way visible in that direction—" it resembles a substantial
fortress." The main entrance is on the Vauxhall side of the building in Francis Street, and
the doorway here is formed of massive granite blocks, and immense iron gates, ornamented
above with portcullis work. " Viewed from this point," the author of " London Prisons "
describes the exterior (though there is nothing but a huge dead wall and the prison
gateway to be seen) "as being the very ideal of a national prison-^vast, airy, light, and
yet inexorably safe."f
The buüding is said to be one of the finest specimens of brickwork in the MetropoEs,
and consists of three distinct prisons, each constructed alike, on Bentham's " panopticon"
plan, in the form of a half-wheel, i. e., with a series of detached wings, radiating, spoke-
fashion, from a central lodge or " argus" (as such places were formerly styled)—on© of such
lodges being situate, midway, in each of the three sides of a spacious turfed and planted
court-yard ; so that the outline of the ground-plan of these three distinct, half-wheel-like
prisons resembles the ace of clubs, with the court-yard forming an open square in the
centre.
"For a house of correction," Mr. Hepworth Dixon considers "it is one of the very worst
erections in London" (nevertheless, it is infinitely superior to Coldbath Fields); and, he adds,
" seeing that it was built only a few years ago, it is astonishing that it should have been
so ill arranged. It is," he proceeds to say, "very badly designed, the radical principle, as
illustrated at Pentonville, and other prisons, being utterly neglected, and the detached
buildings (or wings) which radiate from each of the central lodges being, for all practical
purposes of control, really so many separate prisons." " There is no concealing the fact,"
subjoins the author, in another part of his book, " that this building is a huge and costly
blunder."
* For this, and much more information in connection with the ahove prison, we are indebted to Mr.
Antrohus, one of the visiting justices, and a gentleman who is well known to all social philosophers and
jurists for his efforts concerning the reformation of juvenile offenders, as well as his admirable work entitled,
" The Prison and the School."
t " Indeed it is 'inexorably safe,'" the authority above quoted tells us—there never having been but one
escape from it, and that was owing to the carelessness of the door-keeper, who laid down his key, when a
prisoner picked it up, unlocked the door, apd walked away.—Dixon's ".London Prisons,"
26''
364
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
The Westminster new prison, as rebuilt in 1834, contained (1) a "jail"* for untried
male prisoners as well as debtors, (2) a house of correction for males afler conviction (when
sentenced to a shorter term than that of transportation), and (3) a prison for women.
This tripartite arrangement of the new Tothill Fields prison appears to have hepn
adopted in conformity with the requirements of the 4th of George IV., cap. 64—shortly after
the passing of which Act the erection of a new prison at Westminster appears to have been
decided upon But the notions that prevailed, at the period of its erection, concerning prison
GROUND-PLAN OF TOTHILL FIELDS PRISON.
A. Governor'e House. DD. Female Prisons. b. c. Prison Offices.
B. Matron's House. E. Boys' Prison. d. Inspection Yard.
C. Principal Warder's House. a. Airing Yards. e,f. Laundry and Washhouse.
requirements and discipline, were far from being sufficiently settled to warrant the construc¬
tion of an institution based upon vague and inefficient ideas of classification ; and accord¬
ingly, when it was found expedient to establish houses of detention ea^esth/ for the con-
* A common jail is said to have been defined by the 4tb of George IV., cap. 64, s. 5. But this statute,
which refers principally to the classification of prisoners, enjoins merely, in the section alluded to, that when
any house of correction shall be annexed to the common jail, it shall be lawful for the magistrates to divide
the house of correction and its adjoining common jail into such number of compartments as would be required
for carrying into effect the classification of prisoners directed by that Act—the same as if the two prisons had
been distinct and separate establishments. The magistrates, however, are to declare what part of the united
building shall be considered iis theyaif and what other part be regarded as the hotueof cotTection, and to direct
what classes of prisoners shall be confined in each part—"provided," says the Act, "that prisoners for debt
shall always he confined in the part appropriated as and for the Jail." One of the Middlesex magistrates, in a
letter addressed to us, defines a common jail as a place of sale custody for prisoners before trial and debtors,
30 that, according to this definition, a " common jail " = a " house of detention " a " debtors' prison."
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, TOÏHILL FIELDS. 365
finement of prisonerB iefore trial, and to have special places for the safe custody of debtors,
the "Westminster prison came to he restricted to the confinement of criminals (other than
transports or convicts) afler conviction only. This change occurred in 1845.
In the year 1850 a still more important alteration ensued in the character of the West¬
minster prison; up to that period Tothill Fields bridewell had been appropriated to the
reception of all classes of convicted prisoners, not being transports or convicts; but, at the
April Quarter Sessions in that year, one of the Middlesex magistrates (Mr. Thomas Turner)
moved to the effect, that a committee be appointed to consider and report upon the practica¬
bility and expediency of appropriating each of the houses of correction for the county of
Middlesex to the reception of distinct classes of ofienders.*
In accordance with the recommendations of that report, it was determined, in July,
1850, that the- House of Correction at Westminster should be henceforth restricted to the
reception of convictedprisoners/and males helow the age of seventeen years, and
that all convicted male prisoners of the age of seventeen years and upwards (and those onlp)
should, for the future, be sent to the House of Correction at Coldbath Fields ; whilst persons
committed for want of sureties, or safe custody merely, were to be conveyed to the House of
Detenticjn at ClerkenweU.
This change, which effected the best possible classification of prisoners (a classification
which, while it was really the only one rationally required, was also that one alone which the
several Acts of Parliament concerning the separation of criminals—of felons from misdemean¬
ants, and misdemeanants, again, from vagrants—^had not enjoined) produced at once, not
only an immense saving in the number of officers necessary for the government of each of
the prisons, but also brought the prisoners into precisely such groups as are essential as well
to the preservation of order and decency, as to the due comprehension of the subject of crime
in general.
• The words of the motion were, " That a Committee be appointed to consider and report upon the'
practicability and expediency of classifying prisoners committed to the houses of correction for the county
of Middlesex, and appropriating each prison to the reception of distinct classes of offenders, and to submit
to the Court such scheme as they may consider best adapted for carrying out this arrangement, if the principle
be approved by them."
The Committee appointed by the Court consisted of the following justices :—
Thos. Turner, Esq.
J. Wilks, Esq.
P. Laurie, Esq.
B. Botch, Esq.
C. Devon, Esq.
W. Buchanan, Esq.
Edmd. E. Antrobus, Esq.
J. T. Brooking, Esq.
B. J. Armstrong, Esq.
C. Woodward, Esq.
Ilenry Warner, Esq.
And the Report made by them was as follows :—" That your Committee have procured returns to be made to
them of the number of prisoners of different classes confined in the houses of correction for this county, at
various periods, ending 29th June last; they have also had plans submitted to them of the same buildings
respectively, and have inquired particularly into their respective accommodations. The Committee have,
moreover, examined the governors of each of the houses of correction upon the subject referred to them,
and they have unanimously agreed upon the following resolutions, which they recommend to the adoption of
the Court—the arrangements therein comprised not only affording, in the opinion of your Committee,
facilities for the better description and management of prisoners, but also being calculated to effect an impor¬
tant saving in the prison expenditure. Resolved ;—
" 1. That all persons committed for want of sureties, or safe custody merely, be sent to the Souse of
Detention at Chrkenwell.
" 2. That all male prisoners bihw the aye of years, not included in the foregoing resolution, be sent to
the House of Correction, Westminster.
" 3. That all female prisoners, except such as are included in the first resolution, be sent to the Souse
of Correction, Westminster.
" 4. That all male prisoners of the age of 17 years and upwards, except such as are included in the first
resolution, be sent to the Souse of Correction, Coldbafh Fields."
These resolutions were adopted hy the Court of Quarter Sessions, July 18, 1850.
366
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON
PLANTED COURT-YARD AND GOVERNOR'S HOUSE, AT TOTHILL FIELDS PRISON.
( Krom a Photograph by Herbert Watkins, 179, Regent Street.)
By the table given below, sbowing the number of male and female officers employed,
as weU as the gross amount of salaries paid at each of the Middlesex bouses of correction
for the year before, and the year after, the above-mentioned change was introduced, it will
be seen that the justices were enabled, by the adoption of this most wise and efficient
measure, to manage the two prisons with twenty officers less, and thus to reduce the sum paid
annually in salaries to the extent of £1,719 ; or, in other words, to decrease the conjoint staff
of officers, as well as the cost of management, very nearly ten per cent, respectively ;* for.
* TABLE SHOWTNO THE NUMBER OF HALE AND FEMALE OFFICERS, AS WELL AS THE GROSS AMOUNT FAID IN
SALARIES TO SUCH OFFICERS IN THE HOUSE OF CORRECTION, COLDBATH FIELDS, AND IN THE HOUSE OF
CORRECTION AT WESTMINSTER, DURING THE YEARS ENDING MICHAELMAS, 1850-51.
COLDBATH FIELDS.
TOTHILL FIELDS.
BOTH ESTABLISHMENTS.
1850.
1351.
Differ¬
ence.
1850.
I85I.
Differ¬
ence.
1850.
I85I.
Differ¬
ence. ;
Number of Male Officers
employed
Ditto Female ...
89
29
103
+ 14
— 29
60
23
CO
CO o
— 20
+ 15
149
52
CO GO
CO
— 6
— 14
Total number of Officers
employed
118
103
— 15
83
78
— 5
201
181
— 20
Sum paid annually in Sala¬
ries to such Officers . .
£10,902
£9,990
- £912
£7,648
£6,741
- £807
■*
£18,450
£16,731
-£1719|
1
HOUSE GE COEBECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
367
though the staff of male officers at Coldbath Fields, after the change, had to be increased
fourteen, on account of all the adult male prisoners for Middlesex being then sent to that
prison only, nevertheless, it was found that the staff of female officers there admitted of
being reduced not less than twenty-nine, owing to the female prisoners being all removed
from it, and that a saving of fifteen officers altogether might thus be effected at this
one establishment; whilst at Tothill Fields, though the staff of female officers required
to be increased fifteen on account of its becoming the sole receptacle for the female prisoners
of the county, still, by the removal of all the adult male prisoners, the staff of male
officers was, on the other hand, capable of being decreased to the extent of twenty, and,
conseqnently, a saving of five officers altogether became possible at that particular esta¬
blishment.
To the Middlesex magistrates, therefore, belongs the high honour of having not only
erected a special place of safe custody for the confinement of prisoners iefore trial, or, in other
words, of having been the originators of "houses of detention" for secluding the probable
innocent man from the convicted criminal, but also of having voluntarily—for no Act of
Parliament has yet ordered such a proceeding—determined upon the removal of the
young and thoughtless out of the contact, and therefore the contagion, of the old and hardened
offender—^the one measure being as distinguished for its justice as the other is for its benevo¬
lence and wisdom.
The Westminster prison has thus, in the course of years, passed from the old bridewell,
originally designed for the ' ' compulsory setting to work "of such stalwart paupers as obj ected
to labour for the bread they ate—^into, first, a prison for vagrants and others charged with
trivial offences, or, in other words, into a prison for petty criminals also ; then into a place of
confinement for all classes of prisoners, both before and after trial ; afterwards into an insti¬
tution for the imprisonment of all classes of offenders after trial only, when sentenced to terms
less than that of transportation ; and, finally, into a receptacle for merely female prisoners
The "Westminster prison, as at present constituted, consists of three distinct prisons,
arranged, as we have said, one at each of the three sides of the planted quadrangle which
forms the court-yard, and called respectively A prison, B prison, and C prison—the latter,
or B and C prisons, being appropriated to the reception of females, and the former, or prison
A, set apart for boys.
The total amount of accommodation afforded by the prison is returned officially as
follows:—
Boys. Females. Total.
The (gross) number of prisoners the prison is capable of con¬
taining when more than one prisoner sleeps in one cell .
The number of prisoners (out of the above) the prison is capable 1 jgg gg^ g^g
of containing in separate sleeping cells |
The prison, therefore, has separate sleeping accommodation for not quite two-thirds of
the number it is capable of containing. The numbers that it really does contain in the
course of the year are as under :—
Boys. Females. Total.
The greatest number of prisoners at any time in the course of | ^gg
the year ending Michaelmas, 1855 j
The daily average number of prisoners throughout the year ) 27Q
ending Michaelmas, 1855 )
Hence, we perceive that though the entire prison has accommodation only for 900 pri¬
soners of both sexes, even when more than one prisoner sleeps in one cell, it sometimes
contains as much as 7 per cent, beyond that amount.
300 600 900
676 956
600 870
368
THE GREAT WORLiJ OF LOJS'DON.
243 623 866.
1,909 5,359 7,268
Of tho gross prison population foi tho yciS', ihe returns are here given ;—
The number of prisoners remaining in custody at the close of 1 Total,
the year ending Michaelmufl, 1854 )
The number of prisoners committed in the course of the year
ending Michaelmas, 1855
The gross prison population for the year ending Michaelmas, )
j 2,152 5,982 8,134
The official staff consists of 1 governor, 2 chaplains, 1 surgeon, 3 clerks, 1 storekeeper,
1 principal warder, and 31 male warders; 1 principal matron, and 47 matrons or female
warders.
Hence, we find that as there are altogether 31 male warders to a daily average of 270
boys throughout the year, the proportion is 1 officer to less than every 9 boys, which is
nearly as high as Millbank, and considerably higher than Coldbath Fields, where the pro¬
portion is 1 officer to every 13 prisoners. Again, as there are 47 female warders to a daily
average of 600 female prisoners, the porportion here is 1 officer to not quite 13 prisoners ;
whilst, for the whole prison, the proportion of officers to prisoners is 1 to 11. At Pentonville
the officers are to the prisoners as 1 to 17.*
At Tothill Fields, however, the ratio of officers to prisoners is far from being excessive ;
for we find, by the Nineteenth Report of the Inspectors of Prinoss (p. 161), that, throughout
the prisons of England and Wales, the proportion of officers to prisoners is as foUows :—
Daily average number of prisoners in the whole of the
prisons in the course of the year 1853
Number of officers employed in all the prisons col-
Number of prisoners to each officer throughout thel
prisons of England and Wales )
Number of prisoners to each officer at Tothill Fieldsl
prison . . )
Number of prisoners to each officer at Coldbath Fields )
prison )
Males.
13,609
Females.
3,082
Total
both seaes.
16,691
1,504
420
1,924
90
7-1
8-6
8-7
12-7
110
13-8
13-0
• The subjoined table, copied from the "Special Report of the Visiting Justices" for 1856, shows the
number of prisoners and officers for the last quinquenniad :—
TaBLE SHOWING THE AVERAGE NUMBER, AS WELL AS THE GREATEST NUMBER OP PRISONERS AND
OPPICEBS, TOGETHER WITH THE AMOUNT PAID IN SALARIES POR EACH YEAR, PROM 1851-55.
1851.
1852.
1853.
1854.
1855.
í
*3
S
Females.
3
o
H
1 Males.
Females. |
Total
«
«
«
S
S
*3
S
h
S
o
H
«
Ta
1 Females.
3
o
H
£
■a
s
Females. |
a
o
H
Average number of pri-
Bonere throughout tho
year ending Michael¬
mas
220
430
650
248
472
720
236
523
759
276
631
907
270
600
870
Greatest number of pri-
suners at any one time
in the course of the
year
251
517
768
257
541
708
257
631
888
325
731
1056
289
676
9 >5
Number of officers . .
40
38
78
40
30
79
40
41
SI
40
44
84
40
48
88
Amount paid in salaries,
£6733 Als.
-
-
£6750 12s.
-
-
£6061 16s.
""
£7161 16s.
-
-
£7203 %a.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
369
It is ^th the juvenile, or A, prison, that we purpose dealing first. This comprises foui'
distinct radiating wings, diverging from the lodge in the centre, which constitutes the principal
warder's house. These wings though radiating, are still detached from the central lodge,
and therefore supervision is virtually prevented. The octant space between eaeh of the
wings is devoted to an airing-yard, of which there are four. There are altogether 193
separate sleeping cells distributed throughout the boys' division of the "Westminster prison,
as well as a large dormitory at the upper part of one of the wings, capable of containing
some 80 odd lads.
On the day of our second visit to this prison, there were altogether 271 boys, under seven¬
teen years of age, confined in it; 87 of these had slept in the dormitory on the previous
night, 7 in the reception cells, and the remaiaing 177 in the separate cells throughout the
several wings.*
The separate cells are 8 feet long by 6 broad and 9 high, and have a capacity of 432
cubic feet, which, it will be seen, is less than one-half that of the model cells at Pentonville ;
neither is there any special apparatus here for ensuring the ventilation of the building, mere
holes in the wall being resorted to as a means of removing the foul air and supplying fresh ;
nor are the cells fitted with gas, or supplied with water, or indeed closets, or any appliance for
summoning the warder in case of emergency during the night. In fact, the construction of
the cells is about as defective, in a sanitary point of view, as can well be imagined, the
prison being unprovided with any apparatus, not only for ensuring perfect ventilation, as
we have said, but eVen for warming and lighting the cells in the long winter nights.
Some of the windows are what are called "I'omre" ones, that is to say, they are unglazed,
and fitted with a venetian-bUnd-like screen, with shutters inside, to be closed at night;
other windows are "hoppered," having a kind of wedge-like screen fastened before
them.
The furniture of the ceUs consists of an iron bed, a straw mattress in sacking or tick, a
rug, and one blanket during summer and three in winter, but they contain neither table nor
chair, a small stool only being provided, and a zinc pan added as a night utensil.
Mr. Frederick Hill (late inspector of prisons), in his admirable book upon "Cbuie; its
Amount, Causes, amd Remedies," says, while treating of the construction of prisons, " that if
the ventilation he vigorous (for which purpose he reconunends a slow fire, in a conunon flue
• A more particular account of the distribution is subjoined
STATEMENT OF THE DISTB1BÜTION OP FBISONEBS THROUGHOUT THE BOTS' PRISON OP THE MIDDLESEX
BOUSE OP CORRECTION AT WESTMINSTER, ÍULT 7TH, 1866.
Prison.
1 A .
•-i.. •
3 ., .
No. of No. of
cells, inmates.
21
18
18
21
18
18
Prison.
4 A .
5„ .
6„ .
7,. .
No. of No. of
cells, inmates.
28
28
28
28
28
28
28
28
The work-rooms here consist of—
1. The large oakum-room, 83 feet long^
by 36 feet wide, at end of 7 and 8 > 220 boys
airing-yard, and holding . . . . )
2. Sboemaking-room, 18 feet by 21 feet, )
in prison 8 A, containing . . . J
3. The tailoring-room, 18 feet by 21 feet, )
in prison 8 A, containing . . . ■ )
4. The carpenter's shop, 18 feet by 21 )
feet, in prison 8 A, containing . . )
0. The oakum-store, 18 feet by 21 feet,
at side of court-yard, containing
it, I
13 boys
26 boys
2 boys
6 boys
Prison '
i-rison. inmates.
8 A ... 10 8
Recep. cells 14 7
Total in Sep.
ceUs . 193
The
184
No. of
inmates.
Dormitory over 2 and
3 portion of prison
A 87
Total in prison A . 271
garden ground surrounding the ■)
building within the walls measures > 2 acres.
about 3
The garden ground attached to the-)
prison outside the walls measures > 3 acres,
about . . . . .... 3
In garden work there are employed upon lot
an average )
370
THE GEEAT WOHLD GE LONÍ)ON.
or shaft, or else a rude kind of air-pump, to be worked by the prisoners), a cell that is about
10 feet long, 7 feet wide, and 8 feet high" (or, in other words, having a capacity equal to
560 cubic feet) will, for ordinary purposes, be mßcimtly la/rge." The cells at Tothill Pields,
where no special ventilating apparatus is employed, however, contain, as we said, only 432
cubic feet, and are thus within a fraction of 23 per cent, smaller than that which Mr. Hill
declares to be just large enough for health, provided the ventilation he vigorom. Again,
the same author, while speaking of the various modes of warming cells, recommends either
hot air or hot water, but in no case does he advise that the cells shall be unheated through¬
out the severest winters; indeed, he objects to stone floors as being "great abstracters of
heat," and withdrawing it from that part of the body which, he teUs us, it is most important
should be warm. Nor does he in any case recommend that prisoners should be locked up in
their cells for twelve and a half hours out of the twenty-four, in utter darkness during the
winter—a waste of time and opportunity for mental improvement that appears to us to be
positively wicked. Indeed, it is astonishing that a body of gentlemen like the Middlesex
magistrates, to whom the public is indebted for most important prison improvements, should
allow such a glaring defect as an unventüated, unlighted, and \inheated jail to remain for a
single day.
The discipline enforced at this prison is the "silent associated" form, though a large
number of the prisoners have not separate sleeping cells at night—a measure which is con¬
sidered to be absolutely necessary for the beneflcial working of the system. Mr. Dixon,
some years back, spoke of this defect, and it is even worse now than at the time he wrote.
"This crowding of prisoners together in the night is an unpardonable fault," he said ; "under
whatever system of discipline the culprit is placed during the hours of work or study, he
should be compelled to sleep alone. A body of eighty felons lying in a common room
(although an ofidcer stay all night in the apartment) will suffer more corruption and contami¬
nation in ten hours, than they would in ten months of silent fellowship in the school or work¬
room."
The sanitary condition of TothiU Fields prison is, notwithstanding the defective construc¬
tion of the cells, better than might have been anticipated. " The statistical information
afforded by the annexed table," says the Special Eeport of the Visiting Justices for the July
Quarter Sessions, 1856, "cannot but be considered eminently satisfactory.*
Nevertheless, compared with the prisons throughout the coimtry, it will be found far
from healthy. Thus, in 1853, the per centage of sickness (including cases of " slight indis¬
position" as well as "infirmary cases"), for all classes of prisoners in the prisons throughout
England and Wales, was 27 2; whilst the per centage for the females only was 30-4, and for
the boys no more than 16*9. At TothiU Fields, however, in the same year, the per centage
for aU classes of prisoners was 49'0 (or nearly double that of aU England), whilst that
• TADLE SHOWING THE NUMBEE OP CASES OP SICKNESS, LUNACY, AND DEATH, IN THE C0UB8E OP
THE YEAES ENDING MICHAELMAS, 1851—65.
1861.
1852.
1853..
1854.
1856.
Males.
Females.
Total.
i
â
Females.
Total.
1 Males.
Females.
Total.
Males.
Females.
Total.
Males.
Females
1
Total.
Cases of slight indispottition
884
2,966
3,860
833
2,469
3,302
759
2,694
3,453
85)
2,620
4,471
594
3,669
4,263
Infirmary cases - - - - -
11
86
97
4
199
113
4
80
84
4
147
151
5
120
125
Total cases of sickness
895
3,052
3,947
837
2,578
3,475
763
2,774
3,637
855
3,767
4,622
599
3,789
4,388
Lunatics ------
2
2
3
3
3
8
3
S
_
Pardons on medical grounds
1
1
—
1
1
—
—
—
—
—
—
—
—
Deaths ------
1
4
5
2
6
8
1
8
U
2
16
18
1
B
7
Gratest number of sick at any one time
2
13
15
1
13
14
2
14
1Ü
1
16
17
1
14
IS
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
371
for the females was 50-4, and for the boys 45-3—^both considerably higher than the ratio
tliroughout the country.*
But it may be hardly fair to contrast a metropolitan prison with country ones ; still, even
when compared with Coldbath Fields, it wUl be seen, by the table given on the next page,
that the sanitary condition of Tothill Fields is certainly not super-eminent ; since the pro¬
portionate quantity of sickness at the latter institution is more than double what it is at the
former. The ratio of the mortality, as well as that of the pardons on medical grounds, at the
Coldbath Fields House of Correction is, however, much higher than at the Westminster one.
" It is indeed remarkable," adds the Special Report for Tothill Fields Prison, " that
though no less than 7,753 boys and 23,392 f^emales (or 31,145 persons altogether) have been
committed to the "Westminster prison during the five years (1851—55, both inclusive), only
seven boys and forty females have died."
* table showing the gkoss number and centesimal proportion of cases op sicene88, pardons on
medical grounds, lunacy, and death. occurring throughout the prisons op england and
wales, in the course op the year 1853 : —
Total
Adult.
Total
Juvenile.
Total
Adult and
Juvenile.
Total
Adult.
Total
Juvenile.
Total
Adult and
Juvenile.
I. Sickness.
III. Criminal Luna¬
Cases of Slight Indis¬
position.
Males
Females . . .
23,346
8,355
1,998
328
25,344
8,683
tics.
Males
Females ....
105
27
105
27
Both Sexes ....
132
132
Both Sexes ....
31,701
2,326
34,027
Proportion per cent, of
Lunatics to Daily
Average Prison Po¬
pulation.
Infirmary Cases,
Males
Females
3,345
1,049
221
64
3,566
1,113
0-7
0-8
0-7
0-8
Both sexes ....
4,394
285
4,679
Females . ...
All Cases of Sickness.
Both Sexes . . .
0-79
0-79
Males . . ...
Females . ...
26,691
9,404
2,219
392
28,910
9,796
Both Sexes . . .
36,095
2,611
38,706
IV. Deaths.
178
26
10
2
188
28
Proportion per Cent, of
Sickness to gross Pri¬
Females
son Population.
Males
27-5
34-5
16-9
16-4
26-2
30-4
Both Sexes ....
204
12
216
Females
Proportion per Cent, of
Deaths to Daily Ave¬
rage Prison Popula¬
tion.
Males
Females
Both Sexes . . .
28-4
16-8
27'2
II Pardons on Medi¬
cal Grounds.
....
• • « ■
1-3
0-7
Males
Females
63
14
....
63
14
Both Sexes ....
1-29
Both Sexes ....
77
77
Proportion per Cent, of
Pardons on Medici
Grounds to Daily
Average Prison Po¬
pulation.
Males
Females .....
0-4
0-4
0-4
0-4
Both Sexes ....
0 4
0-4
372
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOEDOH.
Now, this gives a gross mortality of 47 ; and as the average number of prisoners for
the same period has been 250 boys and 531 females, or 781 altogether, we find that the
ratio of mortality among the boys was 2-8 per cent, tor the whole period, or 0-56 per annum,
and among the females 7 5 for the whole period, or 1*5 per annum, whilst for the prison
generally the ratio was 6 0 throughout the above-mentioned quinquenniad, and 1'2 for each
year of it respectively—a proportion which is certainly 0' 1 lower than that at Coldbath
Fields, and considerably less than at Mülbank (where the annual rate of mortality is as high
as 6"91 per 100 of the sfverage number of prisoners) or the Hulks (where it is 2'4 per cent.),
though hardly so low as at Pentonville or Brixton—the yearly ratio being 1-1 at the former
institution, and 1-0 at the latter.
" The small number of deaths which have taken place," adds the Report, with high
Christian consideration, " is the more surprising, when it is considered that thousands who
enter the prison are persons leading an abandoned life, or in a comparative state of destitu¬
tion, dwelling in localities where the houses or tenements are, in niunerous instances, unfit
for human habitation, subject to every kind of deprivation and ill treatment, and to whom
acts of core md words of kindness are almost unknown." Still the deaths at Tothill Fields, in
comparison with the average population, are not only lower than at any metropolitan prison
with which we have yet dealt, but, it will be seen below, they are even less than they
are throughout the prisons of England and "Wales;* and it should be added, that though the
Asiatic cholera visited the Metropolis in 1854, only five died at this prison from its effects,
• table shcwino the ntimbbh op cases op lunacy and death in the pbi80n8 op ail england and
walee, in each tear, prom 1841—53, both inclu8ive :
Tears.
Total Prison
Population in
England & Wales.
Daily Average
No. of Prisoners in
England & Wales.
Number of
Criminal
Lunatics.*
Proportion
per cent, of
Lunatics to
Daily Average
Number of
Prisoners.
Number of
Deatha.t
Proportion
per Cent, of
Deaths to
Daily Average
Number of
Prisoners.
/1841
140,764
15,445
79
•51
231
1-50
1842
153,136
16,718
76
-46
214
1-28
1843
152,445
17,218
64
•39
227
1-32
1844
143,979
16,062
96
•60
140
•87
1845
124,110
13,165
99
•75
143
1-09
england
1846
123,236
12,979
92
•71
107
-82
and
1»7
131,949
14.021
96
-69
201
1-43
■wales.-
1848
160,369
16,627
89
-54
267
1-60
1849
166,942
18,288
68
•37
341
1-86
1850
150,995
17,025
119
•69
200
1-17
1851
156,794
19,249
101
-53
161
-84
1852
149,326
17,579
108
-61
184
1-05
,1853
142,167
16,691
132
•79
216
1-29
Annual Mean . .
145,862
16,236
94
•59
202
1-24
f The Criminal Lunatics and Deaths exhibited in this table do not include those that have occurred in the prisons of
Parkhurst, Pentonville, and MiUbank, which were enumerated in the tables previous to 1848.—(Wote to the Nineteenth Iteport
of Inepectore of Prisons, p. xzvii.)
table showing the centesimal proportion op 8icene88, lunacy, deaths, &c., to the prison popu¬
lation op tothill fields and coldbath fields, por the year 1854-55, and all england ant)
wales, for 1853, &c.
Number of cases of sickness to every 100
of the gross prison population, for the
year ending Michaelmas, 18SS
Number of lunatics to every 100 of the
daily average population for the same
year .....
Number of pardons on medical grounds!
to evety 100 of dally average population I
for the same year . • - - . )
Number of deaths to every 100 of dally i
average population for the same year, f
00!
he I
'l
:}
Boys.
27-8
0-0
0-0
0-37
TOTHILL FIBLDS.
Females. Total.
63-3
0-0
0-0
10
53-9
0-0
0-0
0-80
Adult Males,
COLDBATH
FIBLDS.
0-0
1-0
1-3
ALL ENOLAVD
AKD WALBS.
26-5
•59
0-0
1-24
HOUSE OF CO|lEECTIOIí, TOTHILL FIELDS.
373
aud that these deaths are included in the forty-seven, before given, as having occurred be¬
tween 1851—55.
The Special Report further tells us, that " only eleven cases of insanity have occurred in
the five years. Five of these," it is said, " came into the prison under circiunstances which
induced the visiting justices to suspect the mind to he in some degree affected ; thus proving
that the system pursued, and the discipline observed, is prejudicial neither to the mind n»r
to the body." Now this amount of insanity, compared with the annual average number of
female prisoners, will be found to be at the rate of only 0*41 per cent, per annum, whilst
the annual average proportion of lunacy for all the prisons of England and Wales is not less
than 0-59 in every 100 prisoners.
It now only remains for us to contrast the ratio of purmhrnents^ai this prison, with thsÄt
of the several prisons throughout the coimtry. The following table exhibits the number and
per centage of the different kinds of punishments inflicted in all other penal institutions :—
TABLE SHOWING THE TOTAL NUMBER AND PER CENTAGE OP PUNISHMENTS, POR OFPENCES IN ALL THE
PRISONS OP ENGLAND AND WALES, IN THE COURSE OP THE YEAR 1853.
Foniebkehts.
1. Handcuffs and other irons.
Males .
Females
Both sexes . .
2. Whipping.
Males ...
Females . .
Both sexes .
3. Dark cells.
Males . . ,
Females
Both sexes .
4. Solitary cells.
Males. . . .
Females
Both sexes .
5. Stoppage of diet.
Males. . , ,
Females , , ,
Both sexes .
6. Other punishments.
Males. . . .
Females
Both sexes .
7. Total.
Males. . . .
Females .
Both sexes .
Adult Pbisombrs.
Males .
Females
Both sexes
. 96»891
. 29,765
126,656
U "0
ss
S.2
s n
70
14
115
84
115
5,305
759
6,064
4,438
981
5,419
19,773
4,630
24,403
13,155
331
■ 13,486
42,856
6,715
■ 49,571
P.O 'U
o o.
0-07
0 04
-006
0-1
01
5-3
2-5
4-7
4-5
3-3
4-2
20 4
16-5
■19-2
13-5
1"1
■10-6
42-2
22-5'
■39-4
JUVENILE PEISONEES.
Males .
Females
13,115
2,395
Both sexes. . . 15,910
Lt-O
O 0)
.= .13
6.2
9 9
58
58
1,610
101
1,711
1,146
104
1,250
11,616
647
12,263
336
43
379
14,771
896
■ 15,667
9 s s
O Q) OJ
t. s 9
003
004
-003
0-4
0-4
12-2
4-2
-110
8-7
4-3
8-0
88-5
270
-79-0
2-6
1-8
2-4
111-8
37-4
1011
Adult and
Juvenile PeisoVers.
Males .
Females
Both sexes
. 110,006
. 32,160
142,166
6. S
9 9
75
15
173
90
173
6,915
860
7,775
5,584
1,085
6,669
31,389
5,277
■ 36,666
13,491
374
■ 13,865
57,627
7,611
■ 65,238
.1 ®
006
0 04
-006
01
0-1
6-2
2 6
5-4
50
3-3
4-6
28-5
16-4
-25-7
12-2
M
9-7
62-3
23-6
-461
374
THE GREAT "WORLD OE LONDOH.
A glance down the colunms of the above table wUl show us that the young prisoners are
far more frequently punished than the old ones ; for, whilst only 19 in every 100 of the adult
prison population had their diet stopped in 1853, as many as 79 in every 100 of the Juveniles
suffered that form of punishment. The stoppage of diet, too, will be seen to constitute
the most frequent of all the penal inflictions to which recourse is had in the various prisons
throughout the country; for it will be observed, that out of 65,000 punishments in the
course of the year, rather more than one-half of the number, or 36,000, consisted of a
reduction of the ordinary supply of food. Again, it will he foimd that though there were
only 4 adult prisoners in every 100 placed in dark cells, there were as many as 11 juveniles
similarly treated ; and that, whilst 8 in every 100 young prisoners were confined in solitary
cells, not more than 4 adults underwent the same correction. Purther, the number of adults
whipped was only 1 in the 1,000, whilst of the juveniles subjected to the same castigation
the proportion was four times as great. Indeed, a comparison of the total number of punish¬
ments inflicted on the old and young teaches us, either that the juvenile prisoners are
much more difficult to manage than the adults, or else that they are more tyrannically treated
by their jailers ; for, whereas there are altogether only 39 punishments inflicted on each
century of adult prisoners, there are upwards of 100 punishments to every century of juvenile
ones.
As regards the difierence in the coercive treatment to which male and female prisoners
are subject, it will be perceived that the women and girls are, in all cases, less severely
dealt with than are the men and boys ; for instance, the gross total of punishments in the
foregoing table shows that 52 per cent, of the male prisoners are punished, and only 23 per
cent, of the females.
Having, then, arrived at the fact that the average proportion of punishments throughout
the prisons of England and "Wales is 42 per cent, for the adwdt male prisoners, and but 22|
per cent, for the adult females, whilst it is nearly 112 per ceat. for the male
prisoners, and 37| for the juvenile female ones, let us proceed to apply this knowledge to
the ratio of punishments prevalent at the "Westminster House of Correction, with a view to
discover whether the treatment at that prison he mild or severe. The subjoined tables,
taken from the last Special Report of the Visiting Justices, wül enable us to make the requi¬
site comparison :—
TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER AND PER CENTAGE OP PUNISHMENTS AT TOTHILL FIELDS PRISON, AND
ALSO THEIR EXCESS OR DHFICIENCY IN COMPARISON WITH THE PRISONS OP ENGLAND AND WALES.
BOYS.
PUHiaHHKHTS.
Number Puniahed in Each Year.
»
>
•2Ö 1
s ®
*0 ö 9®
a>o fc
2 S
C&l
HB.
1-21"
•i* ^ *
l»gii
«
la «'S
® fc-. 2 •
Iiis 1
1851.
1852.
1853.
1854.
1855.
o *-■
H
«ä c ^
gEï
< "
o ca p.» p.
K- £
¿gis» 1
0) o ?
1. Handcuffs & other
irons . . . .
2. Whippings . . .
3. l)ark cells . . .
4. Solitary ditto . .
5. Stoppage of diet .
6. Other punishments
d
4,755
1
1
. 3
6,817
2
2
"l
7,303
4
6,750
1
5,769
3
2
1
20
31,394
0-6
0-4
0-2
4 0
6278-8
0-03
0-02
0 Ol
0-22
3-45
0-03
0-40
12-20
8-70
88-50
2-50
1
0-0
— 0-38
— 12-19
— 8 48
— 85-05
— 2-50
Total . . .
4,760
6,822
7,314
6,754
5,770
31,420
6284-0
3-45
111-80
— 108-35
Committals during
the Year - . .
1,772
1,841
1,683
1,882
1,909
9,087
1817î4
-•
-•
HOUSE OF COKEEGTION, TOTHILL FIELDS. 375
females.
Number Punished in Each -year.
S
*0 o
fe! «22
Average No.
punished
every year.
Ts £
.a 2 ^
^ ^ c
•s >»o
s«ilë
4-1 %
o ri
<a S fits o
PUHISHUBNTS.
1851.
1852.
1853.
1834.
1835.
^ o 1
o ®
H
CS
Ä >• q,
. «
o fl 5?
0.-3-SS i».!
ó g ft 1 o.
Z £
o *53 3'S
■Si
1. Handcuffs & other
irons . . . .
2. Hark cells . . .
3. Solitary ditto . .
4. Stoppage of diet .
6. Other punishments
5
15
108
1,700
3
28
133
1,623
6
40
239
1,948
18
61
76
2,358
'¿5
90
2,041
32
189
646
9,570
6-4
37-8
129-2
1914-0
0-12
0-69
2-38
35-38
0-04
2-60
3-30
16-40
1-10
-t- 0-08
— 1-91
_ 0-92
-t- 18-98
— 1-10
Total . . .
1,828
1,687
2,233
2,503
2,186
10,437
2087-4
38-57
23-60
14-97
Committals during
the Tear . . .
5,082
5,343
5,606
5,753
5,359
27,043
5408 6
••
Here, then, it may be noted that the punishments inflicted on the boy prisoners are
strikingly lehw the average of all other prisons, whilst those to which the females are
subject are considerably above the mean. Indeed, so extremely small is the per centage of
punishments for the boys at this prison, when compared with the high ratio for the same
class of prisoners throughout England and Wales, that we must' o'wn it appears to us, if
the necessary discipline of a jail can be maintained among boys at the low rate of 3'4f
punishments per hundred prisoners (as at Tothill Fields), there must be something like
wanton severity exercised upon the younger male prisoners throughout the country gene-
r^y, in order to raise the proportion of punishments as high as 112 per cent.
For our part, we do not hesitate to confess that we consider the low rate of punishment,
prevalent in the juvenile male part of Tothill Fields prison, to be a high honour to all the
authorities in connection with that establishment ; for we believe that that prison govern¬
ment is the best which maintains order and discipline among the prisoners with a mini¬
mum amount of penal inflictions. Some people there are, who are of opinion that our prisons
are being rendered so near akin to schools, as to hold out to the poor, by means of the com¬
forts attainable -within them, almost a premium to be criminal. We incline partly to the same
opinion, and have assuredly no desire to strip the prison of its character as a place of "peni¬
tentiary amendment." It is our impression that there is a strong and injurious disposition
abroad, now-a-days, to convert our jails into institutions for inducing mere moral reformation
rather than penance ; that is to say, there is a wish current through a large part of the com¬
munity to give our prisons an educational instead of a penal character, and to endeavour to
make our criminals better men by means of scholastic and industrial training, rather than
by sorrow and contrition, as though it were thought better to inform the head than to soften
the heart and chasten the spirit.
This appears to us to be the great criminal mistake of the day ; but while we believe
that it is necessary, not only for the due regulation of society, but also for the well-being
even of the criminals themselves, that a prison should be made something else than a place of
mere intellectual improvement (or "reformation" as it is called), as well as "incapacitation"
for the criminal, nevertheless we are no advocates for the exercise of unnecessary and
irresponsible power on the part of the authorities within the prison walls. The punish¬
ment that every man has to suffer for an infraction of the laws should be made a matter of
public - judgment, and the offender left as little as possible to the private sense of justice
of any individual afterwards, so that only such penalties should be enforced in a prison as
are absolutely reqiiisite for ensuring the prisoner's conformity to the discipline of the
establishment. It is for these reasons that -we consider all concerned in the management of
(he juvenile male portion of the Westminster House of Correction, to be entitled to the
¿76
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
highest praise—magistrates, governor, warders, and all ; for, so far is our experience goes,
It is the prison in whieh strict discipline is maintained at the expense of the lowest amount
of physical coercion.
We wish the returns would allow us to say as much for the female portion of the same
establishment. The statistics, however, show us, strange to say, that the punishments in
connection with this portion of the Westminster House of Correction are almost double as
much, proportionally, as they are throughout the prisons of England and Wales; for it wiU
be seen, on reference to the tables above given, that whilst there are only 4 in every 10,000
female prisoners placed in handcuffs in all other jails, the ratio is three times as high at
Tothül Fields, viz., 12 in the 10,000. Again, at this prison, 35 females in every 100 have
their diet stopped in the course of the year, whilst only 16 in the 100 are so treated at other
penal institutions ; so that whilst the ratio of punishments to the number of female prisoners
amounts to but little more than 23 per cent., as an average for all the prisons of England
and Wales, it is upwards of half as much again, or 38^ per cent, at the Westminster
House of Correction.
StiU, metropolitan female prisoners may be more difficult to control than provincial ones,
and ceistainly the punishments at this prison are but slight in comparison with those
inflicted at Brixton, for there the ratio is nearly five times as high as at Tothill Fields, as
may be seen by the subjoined comparative statement :—
Totbill Fields Prison. Brixton Prison.
Per centage of Female Prisoners placed in handcuffs
Ditto ditto in dark cells .
Ditto ditto in solitary cells
Ditto ditto stoppage of diet
Ditto ditto other punishments .
Per centage of aE kinds of punishment to
the gross prison population ....
i
0-12
4-83
0-69
43-55
2-38
5-13
35-38
50-90
77-86
38-57
182-27
It should, however, in fairness, be remembered that Brixton is a " long-term prison,"
being appropriated solely to those females who have been sentenced either to transportation
or penal servitude.
\ü-ß.
Of the Boy Prison at Tothül Fields and Soy Prisoners generally.
Before dealing with the convict prisons of the Metropolis, we proceeded to sum up the
gross convict population of the country generally, and to compare it with that of the Capital
in particular. The separation of the male prisoners in the Middlesex Houses of Correction '
into adult and jmenile, and the appropriation of a special prison to the boy criminals of the
metropolitan county, renders it expedient, for the due comprehension of the subject at
present in hand, that we should set before the reader some statement as to the extent of
the boy prison population throughout England and Wales.
Those who have never looked into the matter wül, doubtlessly, be startled to leam
that the average number of juvenile prisoners annuaEy " passing through" the jails of the
entire country amounts to no less than 11,749 ; so that if our gross prison population, under'
seventeen years of age, were to be collected together into one town, they would be sufficient
to fill a city as large as that of Bedford, Stafford, Preston, Salisbury, or Eamsgate, and be
found very nearly equal to half the population of the entire county of Rutland.
The following table shows the number of juvénile prisoners for a series of years, as well
Ofi thè centesimal proportion of such offenders to the rest of the prison population throughout
SERV1N(J OF I)[\Níl':U 1\ THF OAKIMMIOOIM OF TllK liOYS FKISON AT TOTHILL FIELDS.
HOUSE OF COKRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
377
England and Wales ; and it will be seen thereby that ihe juvenile prisoners are about 10 per
cent., and the admit about 90 per cent., of the gross prison population.* The proportion,
however, of the juvenile to the adult members of the entire community is as 40 to 60
• TABLB 8HOWINO THE NUMBERS AND CENTESIMAL PROPORTION OP JUVENILE OFFENDERS AND ADULTS
SUMMARILY CONVICTED AND TRIED AT SESSIONS AND ASSIZES, THROUGHOUT ENGLAND AND WALES, POR
EACH TEAR FROM 1841—1853.
Juvenile prisoner
Î, or those under 17 years of age.
Adult prisoners.
Under 12
years.
¡12 years and
under 14.
14 years and
under 17.
Total.
17 years and
upwards.
Total
both
í-ezes.
Grand total
aault and
Juvenile
prisoners o(
OB
»
"3
s
V
-a
a
»
In
i
«
O
3
a
at
In
00
«
3
s
3
S
O
a
S
i
Total
both
sexes.
o
«3
S
cñ
Ol
s
s
QJ
b
toth sexes
in England
and aies.
1841—^Numbers ... .
Percmtageto gross (
prison population (
916
1-32
178
•85
1989
2-86
321
1-54
i. 932
8-53
1169
5-60
8837
12-71
1668
7-99
10,505
10-35
60,665
87-29
19,211
92-01
79,876
89-65
90,381
100-00
1842—Numbers . . .
Per centage. . .
1013
1-26
218
1-02
2233
2-78
305
1-43
6636
8-26
1195
5-59
9884
12-30
1718
8-04
11,602
10-17
70,423
87-70
19,642
91-96
90,065
89-83
101,667
100-00
1843—Numbers . . .
Per centage. . .
995
1-21
186
•88
2152
2-63
•271
1-28
6818
8-33
1289
6-08
9967
12-17
1746
8-24
11,713
10-21
71,910
87-83
19,444
91-76
91,354
89-79
103,067
100-00
1844—Numbers . .
Per centage. . .
984
1-27
148
•72
2156
2-79
302
1-46
6892
8-91
1294
6-26
10,032
12-97
1744
8-44
11,776
10-71
67,283
87 03
18,921
91-56
86,204
89-29
97,980
100-00
184.3—Numbers . . .
Per centage • . .
820
1-16
145
•71
1780
2-51
182
•90
6436
9-09
1290
5-95
9036
12-76
1537
7-56
10,573
10-16
61,769
87-24
18,783
92-44
80,552
89-84
91,1-25
100-00
1846—N umbers . .
Par centage ,
946
1-39
126
-57
1826
2-69
229
1-04
6467
9-52
1247
5-68
9239
13-60
1602
7-29
10,841
10-45
58,723
86-40
20,368
92-71
79,091
89-55
89,932
100-00
1847—Numbers . . .
Per centage . . .
1107
1-52
167
•73
2067
2-84
304
1-33
7202
9 89
1227
5-37
10,380
14-25
1698
7-43
12,078
10-84
62,413
85-75
21,129
92 57
83,542
89-16
95,620
100 00
1848—Numbers . . ..
Per centage . . .
1832
1-50
215
•84
2633
2-97
401
157
7899
8-90
1317
5-15
11,866
13-37
1933
7-56
13,799
10-47
76,907
86-63
23,651
92-44
100,558
89-53
114,357
100-00
1849—Numbers . . .
Per centage . . .
1255
1-35
176
•62
2547
2-75
365
1-36
7244
7-81
1366
5-08
11,048
11-91
1907
7-06
12,955
9-49
81,745
88-09
25,015
92-94
106,760
90-51
,745
95
90'87
119,715
100-00
1850—Numbers . . .
Per centage .
1107
1-34
166
•68
2296
2-77
313
1-29
6288
7-59
1106
4-56
9728
11-72
1598
6-53
11,326
9-13
73,081
88-28
22,664
93 47
107,071
100-00
1851—Numbers . . .
Per centage . . .
1181
1-37
-206
-84
2393
2-77
329
1-34
6888
7-97
1295
5-27
10,462
12-11
1830
7-41
12,292
9-76
75,946
87-89
22,728
92-59
98,674
GO-24
110,966
100-00
1852—Numbers . . .
Per centage . . .
1121
1-40
193
•81
2294
2-87
395
1-55
6604
8.25
1214
5-08
10,019
12-52
1802
7-54
11,821
10-03
69,997
87-48
22,079
92-46
92,076
89-97
103,897
100-00
1853—Numbers . . .
Per centage . . .
1253
1-69
243
-99
2115
2-86
386
1-58
6291
8-51
1165
4-76
9659
13-06
1794
7-33
11,4.53
10-20
64,239
86-94
22,692
92-67
86,931
89-80
98,384
lOO-OO
Annualmeanof allclasses
of prisoners—both sum¬
marily convicted and
tried at sessions—
Numbers ....
Per centage to the
total number ofthe •
same age in prison
Annual mean of those
summarily convicted—
Numbers ....
Per centage . . .
Annual mean of those
tried at assizes and
1079
1-37
892
82-66
182
•79
149
81-86
2191
2-78
1737
79-27
316
1-36
233
7373
6738
8-58
4944
73-37
1244
5-42
864
69-55
10,012
12-73
7577
75-67
1737
7-57
1248
71-84
11,749
10-15
8825
75-11
68,854
87-27
49,055
71-24
21,256
92-43
16,255
76-47
90,110
89-85
65,310
72-47
101,859
100-00
74,134
72-78
sessions-
Numbers . . .
Per centage . . .
187
17-34
33
18-14
454
20-73
83
26-27
1793
26-63
374
30-45
2435
24-33
488
28-lf
2924
24-89
19,800
28-76
500(
1 2/5:
1
24,806
23-5:
27,725
27-22
27'
378
THE GRÉÂT WORLD OF LONDON.
in every 100 persons, or, in the aggregate, as seven millions to eleven millions of indi¬
viduals.
Now, a careful study of the above statistical data wiU lead us to the foUowing
facts :—
1st. That the juvenile female prisoners bear a less proportion to the adult female ones
(the one being Tj per cent., and the other 92| per cent., of the whole of the female prison
population) than do Hhe juvenile male criminals to the adult males oí the same class; for,
with the latter, the mean centesimal proportion is as 12| to 87¿.
2nd. That, under 12 years, the youn^ male criminals are not quite Ij per cent., and the
young females of the same age only a fraction more than J per cent., of the gross number
of males or females throughout the prisons; whilst, between 12 and 14 years of age, the
young males are about 2f per eent., and the young females about I5 per cent., of the entire
number of prisoners belonging to either sex; whereas, between 14 and 17 years of age,
the young male prisoners are about 85 per cent., and the young females 5| per cent., of the
whole.
3rd. That about three-fourths of the entire number of prisoners confined within the
prisons are summarily convicted; and whilst 72 in every 100 adult prisoners are committed by
the magistrates, there are rather more, or 75 in every 100, of the aggregate offenders
so dealt with, and upwards of 80 in every 100 similarly treated, when the offenders are of
very tender years.
The juvenüe criminal population passing through the correctional prisons of London,
in the course of the year, would appear to be close upon 2,500 in number; for from the
Nineteenth Report of the Prison Inspectors we gather the following figures :—
Number of juvenile prisoners in the Westminster
House of Correction, Tothill Fields
Number of juvenile prisoners in the Surrey House
of Correction, Wandsworth ....
K umber of juvenile prisoners in the City House
of Correction, HoUoway ....
Number of juvenile prisoners in the City Bride¬
well, Bridge Street, Blackfriars
Total juvenRe offenders passing through the
correctional prisons of London
In addition to these, there are the juvenile offenders passing through the detentional
prisons of the Metropolis, and these, according to the same returns, may be quoted as
follows :—
Number of juvenRe offenders passing through the
House of Detention, Clerkenwell .
Number of juvenRe offenders passing through
Horsemonger Lane prison ....
Number of juvenile offenders passing through
Newgate
Total juvenRe offenders passing through the
detentional prisons of London
Males. Females. Both sexes.
1,448 227 1,675
544 81 625
111 28 139
162 13 175
2,265 349 2,614
Males. Females. Both sexes.
272 55 327
93 14 107
61 13 74
426 82 508
To these, again, must be subjoined the number of juvenRe criminals in the convict
prisons ; and, according to the Government returns, they would appear to be as foUows :—
HOUSE OF COKKECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
379
Number of juvenile prÍBoners passing through. )
Pentonville prison . . . . . )
Number of juvenile prisoners passing through 1
Millbank . . . . . . . j
Number of juvenile prisoners passing through )
Brixton )
Number of juvenile prisoners passing through |
the Hulks, Woolwich .... )
Males.
Females.
Both sexes.
14
0
14
188
14
202
—
8
8
150*
0
150
352
22
374
Total number of juvenile prisoners passing 1
through the convict prisons of London . )
The Metropolitan account, therefore, as to the number of juvenile offenders, stands
thus :—
Passing through the London convict prisons 374
„ „ London correctional prisons . . . . • 2,614
,, „ London detentional prisons .... £08
Total ...... 3,496
Hence we perceive thaft there are, in roxmd numbers, 3,500 juvenile criminals annually
entering the Metropolitan prisons ; and of these 3,043, or a fraction more than 87 per cent.,
are males, and the remainder females ; so that the gross number of juvenile prisoners in the
' Metropolis would appear to be very nearly 29 per cent., or between one-third and one-fourth,
of the entire number throughout the country ; whilst, if we assume the total ntimber of
prisoners (of all ages) passing through the Metropolitan jails in the course of the year, to
be upwards of 40,000 (see ante, p. 83), We shall find that the proportion of juveniles to
adults is about 8 J to 91J in every hundred : consequently, it would appear that the juvenile
criminals of the Metropolis bear a smaller proportion to the adults than do those of the entire
country.
This conclusion'is contrary to what would have naturally been expected, for we should
have reasoned, à priori, that where there was greater density of population, as in the Capital,
there would probably have been greater chance of contamination, owing to the association of
children in the streets, and therefore a greater tendency to juvenile delinquency. We are,
however, stUl inclined to believe-^despite the returns—that such is the fact, and that the
proportion of juvenile criminals in London appears to he less than in the country, simply
because the proportion of adult prisoners there is more. That such is the bare truth may
be proven in the following conclusive manner:—The number of persons in England and
Wales who are under seventeen years of age amounts, as we have said, to 7,056,699
individuals, so that, as there are altogether 11,749 criminals under that age passing through
the prisons of the country, this gives a proportion of 16'6 criminals in every 10,000 of the
gross juvenile population. In London, however, the number of persons under seventeen years
of age is 839,057, whilst the number of criminals of the same age, passing through the prisons
in the course of the year, is, as we have seen, 3,496, and that gives a proportion of 41-6
criminals in every 10,000 of the juvenile population of London ; so that thus it is demonstrated
that, instead of the ratio of juvenile criminals in the Capital being less than in the country
generally, it is really more than as much again.f
* There are no returns in the Government reports as to the ages of prisoners at Woolwich ; we have,
therefore, assumed the number to be one-tenth of the gross prison population there.
t It is necessary to warn the reader, that the numbers here given as the amounts of the juvenile criminal
population of the country generally, represent not the number of áisiinci juvenile prisoners, but merely the
totals "passing through" the prisons of England and Wales as well as the Metropolis in the course of the year.
What may be the annual average number of individual young offenders appearing in the metropolitan
380
THE GllEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
We land then, statistically, at the melancholy and degrading concluBion, that there are
altogether between 11,000 and 12,000 juvenile criminals annually passing through the
prisons of England and Wales, and that between 3,000 and 4,000 of that number appear
in the jails of the Metropohs ; so that even if we reduce these amounts one-half, in order to
allow for those who enter the jails more than once in the course of the twelvemonth (and
the recommittals during the year often amount to one-third of the whole prisoners), as well
as for those who are passed after trial from the detentional to either the correctional or
convict prisons throughout the country—and jf we admit, too, that there are only as many
young thieves and vagrants without the walls of our prisons as within them—we shall still
make the army of our boy and girl criminals amount to the same prodigious number. We
ourselves, however, are disposed to believe that, calculating those at large as well as those
in prison, the numbers may be more correctly stated at between 15,000 and 20,000 habitual
juvenile delinquents for the country generally, and between 5,000 and 7,000 for London
alone.
The question consequently becomes, how is it that so large a body of young offenders
are continually associated with our people—for we are speaking of no extraordinary occasion,
the data for the above conclusions having been drawn from the mean of several years (see
Table, p. 377). Nor can we help asking oursèlves what fate eventually befalls these young
graduates in crime—^how many are expatriated for their iniquities—how many die and rest
unrecorded among the gravestoneless mounds of the convict and prison burial-grounds—how
many settle down among the "respectable" rate-paying "fences" of the country—how
many become the proprietors of thieves' lodging-houses and "padding-kens," and how
many, think you, good simple reader, are really reclaimed ?
To men who puzzle their brains with the subtle riddles of social philosophy, these are
matters pregnant with the highest interest, and the mere flash of them across the mind lights
many a long train of thought in the eagerness of the imagination to compass the magnitude
of the subject. One of the most difiicult problems in physiology is the principle of waste
and supply. How are those minute destructions of tissue, that are now known to accompany
every movement of the muscles and mind, continually repaired and renovated, so that our
frame remains ostensibly the same, as well in its material fabric as in size and weight.
So, in the science of social economics, it is an inquiry of the highest moment as to how the
great body of outcasts is annually thinned and repaired ; and even as the social philosopher
desires to know in what manner the ranks of the street-walkers are maintained at the Hama
number almost as regularly as the army of the State, and strives to learn what fate attends
prisons, it is difficult oven to conjecture ; for the " Reports" afford us but few data for the calculation. By a
return, however, given in the Report of the Committee of Justices on juvenile delinquencies in the county
of Surrey, we find that, out of an annual average of 707 juvenile prisoners passing through the Surrey House
of Correction, no less than 257, or upwards of one-third of the whole, had been re-committed during the
year. We must, therefore. In order to arrive even proximately at the number of individual juveniles passing
through the London correctional prisons in the course of each twelvemonth, reduce the amount above given
by at least one-third, and this will leave 1,743 for the gross number of juvenile criminals passing through the
London correctional prisons throughout the twelvemonths. Again, by a return in the same Report, we find that
out of an annual average of 486 juvenile prisoners passing through the Surrey County Jail at Horsemonger
Lane, no less than 238, or nearly 50 per cent, of the whole, were sent thence to the Surrey House of Cor¬
rection at Wandsworth ; so that, if we reduce the number of juvenile prisoners passing through the deten¬
tional prisons to the same extent, we shall have only 254 left for those who do not afterwards appear in the
returns of the houses of correction. Again, as regards the convict prisons, Millhank is the depot for all
sentenced to transportation or penal servitude, and the juvenile prisoners appearing within its walls are
ultimately transferred to some other Government jail. The same occurs at Pentonville, many being removed
thence to the Hulks. For these reasons, the number of distinct juvenile convicts annually appearing in the
Government prisons of the Metropolis may be safely reduced from 374 to 300 ; hence we come to the con¬
clusion that there are about 2,300, or, to err on the safe side, 2,000, individual juvenile prisoners passing
through the London jails, and this out of a gross orison population of between. 20,000 and 25,000 persons.
HOUSE GE CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
381
the old "unfortunates" (it is strange how all castgs of criminals would make out their lot in
life to be a matter of ill luck), and whence come the young creatures who serve to recruit
annually the great mass of wantons ; for the fresh supplies are so regularly added, that the
mind is almost led to believe that some similar organic arrangement exists in society for the
repair of the used-up members, the same as in the human frame itself. Thus it is, too, with
the great horde of thieves and vagabonds, that, like a train of camp-foUowers, ever attend
the vast army of our people on their march towards " the good time," and who, taking no
part in the great battle of life, stand by only to plunder those who have fought the fight.
The subject of juvenile crime, however, helps to strip the matter of a considerable
portion of its difficulty. It is no longer hard to tell how the predatory maggot got within
the social nut, for here we detect the criminal ovum lying in the very blossom of the plant ;
and as in certain processes of the body we can discover, microscopically, the new tissue in
the course of being secreted from the blood, and see little spiculae of bone thrown down, one
after another, from the same mysterious fiuid, in the wondrous and beautiful efforts of
nature to repair a Hmb—in like manner can we behold, with the enlarged vision of experi¬
ence, how the young criminal tends to renovate the wasted ranks of the old offenders.
AU aUow that the juvenile delinquent ripens, in due course of criminal fruition, into the
confirmed old convict, or the more wily "fence;" end the mind, therefore, is pushed in
its reasonings a step further back, and led to ask itself, if the. vagrant child be father to the
felon man, what is the parentage of the young vagabond himseff^out of what social vices is
he begotten—to what defects in our system should he be affiliated ?
Let us see !
Men have assigned almost as many different causes for crime as they have for the
cholera. The pestilence is due to noxious gases, say the Board of Health ; drunkenness is
the parent of all crime, cry the Total-abstinence League. The epidemic rages, one declares,
because there is a deficiency of electricity in the atmosphere. Knowledge is power, another
exclaims, and ignorance the mother of aU evil. Again, the modem plague has been attri¬
buted by physicians to sporules of fungi fioating in the atmosphere—to particles of excre-
mentitious matter imbibed in the water—to a deficiency of " ozone" and an excess of
" zymosis "—as weU as to our national iniquities, it being regarded by many as a scourge
from the Almighty. And so, in like manner, the moral plague of crime has been referred to
density of population—to poverty—to vagrancy—^to the temptation of large masses of pro¬
perty in towns—to the non-observance of the Sabbath—and, lastly, to the fall of man and
the consequent innate proneness of aU to evil.
Some years back, however, we took the trouble of testing the greater number of the
popular reasons for crime, by collating the statistics in connection with each theory, and thus
found that none of the received, explanations would bear the searching test of figures. Crime
could not be referred to ignorance, for we discovered that in many parts of the country (as,
for instance. North and South "Wales, Cornwall, Shropshire, York, Nottingham, Rutland,
Northampton, Bedford, Huntingdon, Cambridge, Suffolk, and Berks), where the ignorance
was above the average, the criminality of the people was lehw it ; and so, again, where the
criminality of the people was higher than the mean rate, as in Middlesex, Oxford, Warwick,
Gloucester, Hants, &c., the amount of ignorance was lower than ordinary.*
• Gloucester, for instance, which is the most criminal of all c^unties, has 26 criminals to every 10,000
of the population ; Middlesex, 24i ; Warwick, 21 ; Oxford, 17 ; whilst the average for all England is
16i ; but these counties, though the most criminal, tested according to the ratio of their ignorance (as proven
by the number, who signed the marriage register with marks), are among the most highly educated; that is
to say, in Middlesex only 18 people usually sign with marks out of every 100 married ; in Gloucester, 35
people in 100 do so ; in Warwick? 38; and in Oxford, 39 ; whereas the average for all England and Wales is
40. On the other hand, in North Wales, which is one of the least criminal districts, there are only 7
criminals in every 10,000 of the people; in Cornwall there are 8; South Wales, 8^; York, llj; Notting-
382
THE GREAT "WORLD OE LONDOH.
Nor can crime, on the other hand, be said to be due to the density of population and
the consequent greater facility for inter-contamination among the people; for, whilst the
population is more than ordinarily crowded in Surrey, Kent, Durham, and Nottingham, in
these counties the ratio of criminals to the population is len than the average. So, again,
in Essex, Hereford, Buckinghamshire, Oxford, Wilts, Hants, Somerset, Leicester, and
Norfolk, the number of persons to the hundred square acres is helow the mean, and the
number of criminals to every 10,000 of the population above it.*
We proved, moreover, that crime is not referable to poverty, ascertaining, by the
same mierring means, that in those counties where the proportion of paupers is above the
average, the proportion of criminals falls often below it, and vice versd. Nor could it be
ascribed to vagrancy, for where the poor-law returns show that there are the greatest
number of persons relieved in the "casual wards"' of the several unions, the criminal returns
do not, on the other hand, indicate a like excessive proportion of offenders convicted.
Further, the theory that crime is due to the temptation of largo masses of property, does
not hold good ; for it does not follow, according to the returns for the property and
income-tax, that in those districts where the greatest wealth abounds there also do
thieves, rogues, and vagabonds flourish to an inordinate degree. Neither can it justly be
said that where there is the greatest drunkenness there is the greatest crime likewise, for
this theory, like the rest, will not bear being tried by statistical records ; besides, it is a
well-known fact, that there is a less proportionate number of criminals in Prussia than
in England, nevertheless, Mr. M'Culloch tells us, " that the consumption of spirits
throughout that kingdom is equal to between forty and forty-five millions of our imperial
gallons in the course of the year;" and he adds, "that it may be worth while observing,
as illustrative of the habits of the people of that country and our own, that the entire
quantity of British and foreign spirits, entered for home consumption in the United
Kingdom in 1840, amounted to only twenty-five and a half million gallons, notwithstanding
our population is double that of Prussia. Indeed," he continues, " the annual consumption
of spirits in Prussia amounts to about three gallons to each individual, whilst the consump¬
tion of Great Britain and Ireland is only about three-quarters of a gallon per head. The
consumption of beer, too, in Prussia," he says, "also exceeds its consumption in the United
Kingdom in a corresponding proportion."
ham, llj; Berks, nearly 13; and Rutland, nearly 14; Northampton, Hj; Cambridge, 145; Shropshire,
nearly 15; Bedford, 1¿*5; and Suffolk, 155; all being below the average, which is very nearly 16^ for all
England. Still, these counties, though the least criminal, are among the most ignorant; for though out of
every 100 married, only 40, upon an average, sign the register with marks, throughout England and "Wales,
there are in South Wales, 57 in 100 who do so; in Bedford, 56; North Wales, 55; Huntingdon, 49; Rut¬
land, 49; Shropshire, 48; Suffolk, 48; Cambridge, 45; Cornwall, 45; York, 44; Northampton, 43; Berks,
42; and Nottingham, 42.
• The numbers for these counties were as follows :—The average number of persons to every 100 acres
throughout England and Wales is 49 7. In Surrey, however, there are 44 people to every 100 acres; in
Kent, 63 ; in Durham, 62 ; and in Nottingham, 55. On the other hand, the average number of criminals fur
all England and Wales is, as we have said, 16*4 to every 10,000 of the population ; in Durham, however,
there are only 7*8 criminals to every 10,000 people; in Nottingham, 11-8; in Surrey, 16-3; and in Kent,
16*4; so that it cannot be asserted tbat the most crowded axe the most criminal places. Nor, on the con¬
trary, are the least crowded places the least criminal ones, for in Wiltshire there are only 27*7 persons to
every 100 acres; in Buckinghamshire, 3r3; in Norfolk, 33"3 ; in Essex, 345; in Oxford, 37"0; Hants,
38 4; Somerset, 43-5 ; Hertford, 43-5 ; and Leicester, 45*4—all of which are below the average density of
49*7 for the whole country, and yet these counties are above the average in criminality ; for whilst there
are only 16*4 criminals in every 10,000 throughout England, there are 17'1 in the same number of people
in Norfolk; in Leicester, 17'1 also; in Hertford, 17'5; in Hants, 17'7; in Oxford, 17'8; in Wiltshire,
18'9; in Essex, 19*1 ; in Somerset, 19 9 ; and in Buckinghamshire, 20-4. ' These calculations were made,
as we have said, some years ago, and before the appearance of the census of 1851 ; the averages were,
in all cases, deduced from a series of ten years.
K íiííiiáipiíiiiiEPai
^.líyiMilBÉrliVSiliS
ÍÍSSoíIMÍEiÍM
1(111
VEILED FEIMALE I'RISONICU AT TUE SURUEY HOUSE OF CORRECTION, WANDSWORTH.
(From a Photograph by Herbert AVatkins, 179, Regent Street.)
HOUSE OP COEKECTIOH, TOTHILL PIELOS.
383
Again, the theory which refers crime to a breach of the Sabbath would, we feel assured,
it tried by the returns of the last census, as to the numbers of people attending service in
the various chapels and churches throughout the country on a given day, be found to bear
no relation to the number of criminals in the same districts. And, lastly, that religious con¬
jecture which dates all criminal offences as far back as the faU of man, appears to us to err
in confounding crime with sin, and in believing the breach of a human law to belong to
the same category as the infraction of a divine one. Sin appears to us to be a human defect,
and crime a social one. To the one all men are liable, since it is impossible for any to
be perfect; to the other but few are subject, and those chiefly who are bom to the
hardships father than the comforts of life ; and, according to Christianity, it is the
wealthy who are the most sinful, since we are told that it is as impossible for a rich man to
enter the kingdom of heaven as it is for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle ;
whereas, according to Mr. Kedgrave's returns, it is mainly the poor and the unlettered who
belong to the criminal classes.
If, then, the various popular conjectures as to the causes of crime in this kingdom have
no tmth in them, it behoves us sedulously to search for some other principle to which the
existence of those swarms of thieves and vagabonds, which infest the country as well as
the town, may be referred. Now, the first thing that strikes the mind accustomed to take
broad and comprehensive views of such matters is, that our nation is by no means singula/r
in having a race of social ontcaets surrounding and preying upon the industry of the com¬
munity. Even the Hottentots, we have before said, have their " sonqnas" and bushmen, and
the Kafirs their " fingoes," to trouble their peace and make free with their property—^the
same as we have our vagrants, pickpockets, and burglars.- But if to these people went
one of our social philosophers, primed with the fashionable conjectures as to the causes
of crime in a community, and told them that rogues and vagabonds were due either
to a non-observance of the Sabbath, or to the density of the population, or to an ignorance
of reading and writing, or to the fall of man, or to the love of intoxicating liquors—^how
heartily would these same simple Kafirs and Hottentots laugh at the narrow view such an
one took of human nature ? Surely, even the weakest-minded must see that our theories
of crime, to be other than mere visionary hypotheses, must explain roguery and vagabondage
all over the world, and not merely be framed with reference to that little clique among
human society which we happen to call our own State.
We have elsewhere said that the whole human race is divisible into wanderers and
settlers—that is to say, into those who are in the habit of seeking and taking what they
require for their sustenance or their pleasure, and those who are in the habit of producing
and growing what they want. The main difference between an animal and a plant is, that
the vegetable has its living brought to it, while the other has either to go forth and seek
it, or else to work for it. No sentient creature can stick its feet in the ground and draw
nutriment from the soil, without .any exertion of its own. In a primitive state of society,
before the world came to be too thickly peopled for the spontaneous productions of the soil
to yield man a sufficiency of firuits and roots to satisfy his cravings, the earth, in those generous
climates where the human family seems to have sprung into existence, would appear to have
been one vast garden filled with enough natural food for all. Hence appropriation would no
more have existed at such times, than men would think now-a-days of appropriating the
waters of the ocean or the sands of the desert, in the midst of the sea or the Great Sahara
itself. It is only when scarcity begins that property comes into existence, and then men
begin to fight and quarrel for that which others have taken to themselves. When, however,
the scarcity increases to such an extent that the earth has to be forced and stimulated to
unusual productiveness, and men by their labour get to rear crops and cattle that would not
otherwise have existed, it is but natural that they who have called things into existence by
their industry and care, should come to regard such things as their own individual right,
384
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
and to believe that a wrong was done to them by any who attempted to deprive them of
their possessions.
This forcing of the earth to inordinate fertility would have constituted the dawn of
civilization, and it is evident that the earliest efforts would have been made by the more
sedate and prudent uf the human race, whilst the more reckless and restless would have
wandered on, content to seek a precarious existence in either the spoils of the chase or the
plundering of their more industrious neighbours. It is within the records of European
history, as to how the so-called nobles of the olden time not only despised the dwellers in
cities, but looked upon all industrial occupations—arts as well as commerce—as fit pnly for
beasts, regarding every one who pursued any business or craft, as weU as those engaged
in commerce, as " res non personce"—creatures but little better than beasts of burden ; while
the barons themselves felt pride only in hunting and warfare, and lived buried in Vast forests
with a multitude of slaves and knights about them, ready to saRy forth and plunder the
industrious citizens. The Bedouin Arab is the modern type of the mediaeval baron ; as with
the old European nobles, robbery is regarded by the Sheikh to this day as an honourable
occupation ; he considers the country in which he pitches his tent as sacred ground, and
looks upon the plunder of the pilgrim caravan as the mere levying of tribute or payment
for permission to pass through his territory (see Bvrckhardds Notes on Bedmins, pp. 84—89).
The Teutonic nobles, between the 11th and 12th centuries, were but the older European
forms of the modem Arabian Sheikh ; and " tolls," like our own " black mail," were
exacted by them from the passing merchants, even as the Bedouin demands his tribute-
money at the present day.
Those who forget how, in olden times, industry was regarded as base and slavish,
and plunder and warfare as the only honourable occupations worthy of freemen, cannot
understand why it is that the stiU uncivilized gipsy mother says to her child, " And now,
having said yo^ prayers, go out and steal;" or why the equally uncivilized professional
thieves of the present day should divide all society into "flats" and "sharps," and,
classing themselves among the wiser portion of humanity, should, like the ancient barons,
look with scom upon aU who labour for their living as either mean or witless.
Our criminal tribes, therefore, may be regarded as that portion of our society who have
not yet conformed to civilized habits. "What the Bedouins are to the Fellahs, the Lappes to
the Finns, the Fingoes to the Kafirs, and the Sonquas to the Hottentots, the Gipsies to the
Europeans generally, and, indeed, the old baron to the ancient citizen, our modem
thieves and beggars are to the more prudent and striving portion of our race.
Still the question becomes—why do these folk not settle down to industrial pursuits like
the rest of the community ? "Why do they not adapt themselves to the more comfortable
practices of civilized society ? In the first place, then, it is evident that some men are
naturally of more erratic natures than others ; even gentlefolks know the pleasure of
travelling, of continually passing through fresh scenes, and meeting with fresh excite¬
ments, countries, characters, and adventures ; but a delight in going upon foreign tours
is simply a delight ' in vagabondage, with the power of putting up at more comfortable
abiding-places than the casual ward. And it is a strange ethnological fact that, though
many have passed from the steady and regular habits of civilized life, few of those
who have once adopted the savage and nomadic form of existence abandon it, not¬
withstanding its privations, its dangers, and its hardships. This appears to be due
mainly to that love of liberty, and that impatience under control, that is more or less com¬
mon to all minds. Some are more self-vdlled than others, and, therefore, more irritable
under restraint; and these generally rebel at the least opposition to their desires. It
s c iriously illustrative of the truth of this point, that the greater number of criminals
arc found between the ages of 15 and 25 ; that is to say, at that time of life when the
HOUSE GE CORRECTION, TOTHILL EIELDS.
385
will is newly developed, and has not yet come to be guided and controlled by the dictates
of reason. The period, indeed, when human beings begin to assert themselves is the most
trying time for every form of government—whether it be parental, political, or social ; and
those indomitable natures who cannot or will not brook ruling, then become heedless of all
authority, and respect no law but their own.
Another circumstance which tends to make men prefer a wandering and predatory, to a
settled and industrious Hfe, is, that though all have an instinctive aversion to labour, some find
the drudgery of it more irksome than others. We have before spoken (p. 301) of this innate
repugnance to continued physical exertion, and shown how wages are paid to "labourers" as
a bribe for the performance of the more arduous forms of it, and sums given to be allowed
to indulge in those more agreeable kinds of muscular exercise which are termed sports or
amusements. Whenever the muscles are made to move by the mere force of the will, we
are invariably conscious of an effort, and this efifort becomes more or less fatiguing •according
as the muscular action is protracted. Dr. Marshall Hall has shown that the brain is the
organ of fatigue, and that those operations which are performed instinctively, such as the play
of the liings, and the contraction and expansion of the heart, are unattended with any sense
of weariness from long-continued motion. Plies, again, he tells us, remain for days on the
wing, without showing any symptoms of being tired ; and so those physical exercises which
we delight in—such as dancing, skating, riding—^produce little or no weariness in the limbs;
whilst labour, which is performed simply for the sake of the food it brings, rather than from
any taste for the work, soon grows irksome, not only from the continued eflfort necessary for
the performance of it, but also from that prolonged constraint of the mental faculties which
is required in order to keep the attention fixed upon one subject. The mind, at such times,
is indeed working against itself. The craving for immediate pleasure makes it long to he
away in the fields, indulging in some more congenial sport, whilst a sense of the prospective
good to be derived from the reward attached to the task in hand, forces the workman to
continue toiling against his own impulses and instincts. It is this lahour that all men are
striving to avoid ; some, by frugality, are hoping to amass, through small regular savings, a
suflîciency to allow them to live at length a life of ease ; others seek the more easy forms of
trade and speculation ; while others, again, who have little or no fear of the law, nor any
sense of independence and honesty, endeavour rather to gain an easy subsistence by begging
or by theft.
Crime, said thè Constabulary Commissioners, in their Pirst Report, arises from a desire
to acquire property by a less degree of labour than ordinary industry; and habitual
criminals, therefore, are those persons who feel labeur to be more irksome than others, owing
to their being not only less capable of continued application to one subject or object, but
more fond of immediate pleasure, and, consequently, less willing to devote themselves to
those pursuits which yield only prospective ones. This explanation agrees thoroughly with
the criminal character, for it is well known that such persons are distinguished by a compa¬
rative incapability of protracted attention, as well as by an inordinate love of amusement,
and an indomitable repugnance to regular labour.
" I have never been able to comprehend," says Mr. Chesterton, the late governor of Cold-
bath Pields, in a passage of his work on "Prison Life," before quoted, " the preference given
by hale able-bodied men, who, rather than face creditable industry, will stand shivering in the
cold, with garments barely sufficient to clothe their nakedness, and purposely rent and tattered
in order to provoke sympathy. The tramps or ubiquitary wanderers display a taste," he
adds, " far superior to that of the London cadgers. One such assured me that the life he
led suited him; he enjoyed the country, he said, realized a pleasing variety, and managed,
in one way or other, to get his wants adequately supplied."
Crime, then, it mav be safely asserted, is not due, as some say, to an inordinate density
386
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
of the population, nor to a love of intoxicating liquors, nor to an inability to read and
Write, nor to iinwholeeome dwellings, nor to a non-observance of the Sabbath ; but simply
to that innate love of a life of ease, and aversion to hard work, which is common to aU
natures, and which, when accompanied with a lawlessness of disposition as weU as a disregard
for the rights of our fellow-creatures, and a want of self-dignity, can but end either in
begging or stealing the earnings and possessions of others.
Labour is a necessity of civilized Ufe, and he, therefore, who refuses to work or trade must,
perforce, prey upon the labours or gains of his neighbours ; and if it be possible to win large
sums of money with little or no toil, by dishonest means, and but small sums with heavy and
long toiling, by honest industry, who can wonder that so many of our poor prefer the lucrative-
ness of crime, even with aU its perils, to the slender reward of more honourable courses ? One
of the warders at MiUbank assured us, that many of the youths imprisoned there kept some
five or six persons when at large, and gained often £50 in the week by picking pockets {ante,
p. 257). We, ourselves, knew a coiner who could get his £5 a week by passing bad money ;
and one housebreaker of our acquaintance assured us that he had once made £100 a week for
fourteen weeks, by a series of burglaries. Indeed, from calculations we have entered into upon
the subject, we find that a professional pickpocket commits, upon an average, 1,000 robberies
to one detection. The ordinary career of the "light-fingered gentry," for example, is, as the
men say, " six months out (of prison) and four months in." A pickpocket, in regular work,
reckons to take his six purses a day, Sundays included ; and as there is generally some public
entertainment, fête, or assembly going on one day in every week—either a race, or a
fiower show, a fancy bazaar, a review, a confirmation, a regatta, or a May meeting—
we are assured that the average number of purses obtained by a London sweU-mobsman
amounts to not less than fifty every week during the time he is at large, and this, for twenty-
five weeks, would give as many as 1,250 robberies committed before being detected; and yet
the men who reap these- large gains by dishonest means, would not be able to earn their
guinea a week by honest labour.
To reduce crime, therefore, we must do all we can to make theft less lucrative and
more certain of detection, on the one hand, as well as to increase the rewards of industry, on
the other, and to render it a more honourable vocation in the State.
Such, then, would appear to be the cause of habitual crime in the abstract. But
we have before said, a considerable number of our criminals are bred to the profession as
regularly as the children of the Chinese are bom to particular crafts. A large proportion
of the London thieves are " Irish Cockneys," having been bom in London of Irish parents.
This shows, we believe, not that the Irish are naturally more criminal than our own race,
but simply that they are poorer, and that their children are, consequently, left to shift for
themselves, and sent out to beg more frequently than with our people. Indeed,
juvenile crime will be found to be due, like prostitution, mainly to a want of proper parental
control. Some have wondered why the daughters of the poorer classes principally serve to
swell the number of our street-walkers. Are poor girls naturally more unchaste than rich
ones ? Assuredly not. But they are simply worse guarded, and therefore more liaUe to
temptation. The daughters of even middle-class people are seldom or never tmsted out of
the mother's sight, so that they have no opportunity allowed them for doing wrong. "With
the poorer classes, however, the case is very different. Mothers in that sphere of life have
either to labour for their living, or else to do the household duties for themselves, so that
the girl is employed to run errands alone from the tenderest years, and, when her limbs are
strong enough to work, she is put out in the world to toil for herself. She has no maids
to accompany her when she walks abroad, and often her only play-ground is the common
court in which her parents reside.
HOUSE OF COREECTION, TOTHTLL FIELDS.
387
The same circumstances as cause the ranks of our " unfortunates" to be continually
recruited from the poorer classes, serve also to keep up the numbers of our juvenile delin¬
quents, and to draft fresh supplies from the same class of people. In a natural state of
things, it has clearly been intended by the Great Architect of the universe that the labour
of the man should he sufficient for the maintenance of the family—^the frame of the woman
being in itself evidence that she was never meant to do the hard work of society, whilst the
fountains of life that she carries in her bosom, as well as the kindlier and more affectionate
qualities of her nature, all show that her duty was designed to be that of a mother and a
nurse to the children, rather than a fellow-labourer with the man. Our artificial state of
society, however, and the scanty remuneration given to many of our forms of labour, as well
as the high price of rent and provisions among us, render it now almost impossible for a
family to he supported by the man alone, and hence most of the wives of the unskilled
portion of our work-people have, now-a-days, to forego their maternal duties, and to devote
themselves to some kind of drudgery by which they can add to the petty income of the house.
Either the mother has to do slop-work, or to go out " charing," or washing—or harvesting,
and hop-picking, in the season—or to sit all day at some fruit-stall in the streets—or,
indeed, to do a variety of things other than mind the little ones that God Almighty has
entrusted to her care.
If, then, the mother be away from home the greater part of her time, and the children,
consequently, left to gambol in the gutter with others as neglected as themselves, what
reward, think you, can society look for from such a state of moral anarchy and destitution ?
Either a mother's love and care was a useless piece of luxury in the great scheme of
human nature ; or, if it were a necessity conceived by the highest wisdom, for the due
rearing and fostering of the future race—if it were essential for the proper working out of
the organization of society, that the early part of every man's existence should be entrusted
to a creature distinguished from the sterner sex by the extreme loving-kindness and
gentleness, as well as the timidity of her character, surely that society which tolerates the
subversion of such a natural state must expect to reap a bitter harvest. Let every man
among us look back and remember where he learnt his first lessons of goodness. Surely all
can answer, that the kindly teachings of their mother have made them better men than ever
the lessons of the schoolmaster or the sermons of the clergyman could have effected ; and if
those who have been mercifully placed in a different sphere all know and feel this, is it
not easy to understand what must he the consequence when the mother has no time left to
watch over and fondle her little ones, and when the cares of life are of so all-absorbing a
nature that her very hebrt is hardened by them, and she gets to wreak upon her children the
miseries and spleen that are forced upon her.
That this constitutes the real explanation of juvenile delinquency, is proven by the fact
that a large proportion of yoimg criminals have either been left orphans in their early child¬
hood, or else they have been subject to the tender mercies of some step-parent. Any¬
thing which serves to deprive the young of their natural protector, or to render home
unlike what a home should really be—or any unnatural treatment of the younger members
of a family, such as over-strictness, or even over-laxity of discipline—must all tend to swell
the ranks of our young criminals, and, eventually, of our old ones; and thus it is that
juvenile delinquency may be, either directly or indirectly, traced to orphanage—or ill-
treatment, or neglect of children by their parents—or else to drunkenness and vicious habits
on the part of the father or mother, or to defective dwellings, and the promiscuous asso¬
ciation of children in the streets—or to the want of proper schooHng, and industrial as well
as religious training—aU of which, however, are more or less necessarily included in the
larger condition of the want of due maternal and paternal care.
Few, indeed, are aware of the really destitute state of the young thieves who swarm
S88
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
in our prisons, and how many of them are deprived of the good counsel and training of
parents, either hy being orphans, absolutely or morally—that is to say, either by having
been deprived of either father, or mother, or both; or else, worse stül, by having one or both
of their parents drunkards or beggars, or old jail-birds of some kind or other. Mr. Antrobus
tells us that, on reference to the school-register at Westminster for 1852, it appears that out
of 1,490 boys who were received there, 65, or 4'3 per cent, of the whole, were totally desti¬
tute, whilst 390, or as many as 26-7 per cent., had one or both parents drunkards, whilst the
relations of many others either were then, or had been, imprisoned or transported. At
another time the same gentleman found that, out of 175 boys, 99 or 565 per cent., had relatives
who might strictly be classed under the denomination of old jail-birds. For instance, 10 had
fathers in prison, 1 had a father who was transported, 6 had mothers in prison, 53 had
brothers in prison, 9 had brothers transported, 4 had sisters in prison, 6 had cousins in
prison, 5 had cousins transported, 3 had uncles in prison, 1 had an uncle transported,
and 1 an aunt in prison. Again, out of 192 young girls, the following were the statistics
concerning th.eir parentage :—47 had neither father nor mother, 3 had a stepmother only, 2 a
stepfather only, 53 had no father, 14 had no mother, 11 had a father and stepmother, 7 a
mother and stepfather, and 4 were not able to say whether their parents were living or not.
Again, out of 12 others, 6 had parents who had separated and were living with other
persons, 2 were illegitimate children, 3 had parents who were insane, and only 1 was of a
respectable family.
One prolific cause, too, of the increase of juvenile offenders is the fact, that children are
sent to prison for the most trivial offences. " The great object," says Mr. Antrobus, "in
separating an offender from society, must ever be to make him or her a better member of it.
In sending a child of 8, 10, 12, or 14 years of age, to prison, and often only for a few days,
is this object," he asks, " likely to be accomplished ?"
" Send a child to prison for taking an apple, an orange, a few walnuts !" exclaims this
most kind-hearted and right-minded magistrate, " or even for snatching some trifling article,
imprudently or culpably exposed for sale in the streets, or, indeed, for having a vagrant
parent—the act is monstrous, and can only tend to increase the moral peetüence which reigns,
and which all deplore."
The same gentleman then cites a table of the number of children under 14 years of age
who were committed to Tothül Fields for various petty thefts duringthe years 1851-52; and
by this he shotvs that no less than 55 children, under 14 years of age, were committed to
prison for stealing fruit, or some article under the value of sixpence ; 48 for stealing some¬
thing of the value of sixpence and under one shilling ; 48, again, for taking something worth
between one and two shillings ; and 40 for appropriating something that was estimated at
between two and four shillings—the whole having been sentenced to terms under two
months ; and thus evidently proving that they were not old offenders. " Now, a boy or girl,"
says Mr. Antrobus, " sent to prison for a few days or weeks, cannot, if uneducated, be either
reformed or morally trained ; and very few are otherwise. It is almost impossible to con¬
ceive," he adds, " any other effect to be produced on the juvenile offender by imprisonment,
except that of imparting to him or her a recklessness of character, which wiU lead to the
committal of greater crimes."
For the due elucidation of this part of the subject we have compiled the following table
from the last Special Eeport of the Visiting Justices of TothiU Fields Prison :—
BURIAL-GROUND AT MILLBANK PRISON.
(From a I'liotograph by Herbert Wutklns, 179, Regent Street.)
HOUSE GE COERECTION, TOTHILL EIELDS.
389
TAKLB SHOWING THS NUMBER OP HOTS AND GIRLS, UNDER FOURTEEN YEARS OF AGE, WHO HAVE BEEN
COMMITTBD TO TOTHILL FIELDS FRISON, DURING THE FIVE YEARS 1851—55, FOR STEALING MONEY OR
GOODS, AND SETTING FORTH THE SUPPOSED VALUE OF THE SAME, TOGETHER WITH THE TERMS OP
IMPRISONMENT FOR SUCH OFFENCES.
Amount or Supposed Value of Goods Stolen.
1
Under
6d.
6(2. and
under
Is.
Is. and
under
2s.
2s. and
under
4s.
4s. and
under
6s.
6s. and
under
8s.
8s. and
under
10s.
lOs. and
unàer
16s.
ISs. and
under
20s.
20«.
and up¬
wards.
Total.
Terms of Imprison¬
ment.
Buys .
Girls .
88
40
41
42
2
11
9
6
5
1
7
260
2
{ Under 7 days.
Boys .
Girls .
70
1
27
24
13
6
2
6
—
2
—
1
150
3
) 7 and under 14
) days.
Boys.
Girls .
40
42
2
35
1
23
2
9
4
3
1
1
2
5
180
6
) 14 and under
) 21 days.
Boys .
Girls .
8
6
3
14
9
1
1
38
4
) 21 days and
) under 1 month.
Boys .
Girls .
66
1
74
1
65
7
74
3
30
5
16
9
1
6
2
2
24
3
366
23
) 1 month and
) under 2 months.
Boys .
Girls .
7
10
14
35
6
16
2
9
4
1
9
1
2
13
4
119
14
) 2 and under
) 3 months.
Boys .
Girls .
28
1
32
2
36
1
39
5
27
3
18
3
4
2
7
5
8
2
22
5
221
29
) 3 and under
) 6 months.
Boys .
Girls .
6
1
21
27
3
28
21
10
2
14
1
8
23
3
159
12
) 6 and under
) 9 months.
Boys .
Girls .
—
—
1
2
—
1
1
1
2
—
—
7
1
) 9 and under
) 12 months.
Boys .
Girls .
—
—
1
—
2
4
1
2
—
7
1
17
1
) 12 months and
j under 2 years.
Boys .
Girls .
—
2
5
15
9
3
3
2
—
17
1
56
1
) 2 years and
5 upwards.
Boys .
Girls .
299
3
234
8
257
12
280
21
148
12
90
3
42
7
50
10
23
2
121
18
1,564
96
) Total for
J 5 years.
Boys .
Girls .
(
- 1 -
1,471
271
1 Other Offences.
Boys .
Girls .
3,035
367
I Grand Total.
Boys . . 48 ) Committed for | Boys . . 42 ) Committed for
Girls . . 6 ) robbing parents. | Girls . . 12 j robbing employers.
Hence we find, that out of an average of 313 hoys under fourteen years of age, annually
committed for stealing goods or money, not less than 60 in number, or 20 per cent, of the
whole are, on an average, sent to prison every year for purloining articles of less value
than 6d. ; 47 for stealing goods worth between 6d. and 1«. ; 51 the amount of whose theft
was estimated at between 1». and 2«.; 56 at between 2«. and 4«. ; 29 at between 4«. and
6«. ; 18 at between 6*. and 8». ; 8 at between 8s. and 10«. ; 10 at between 10«. and 15«. ;
4 at between 15«. and 20«. ; and 40 at 20«. and upwards.
Now, that mere schooling—the teaching of reading, writing, and arithmetic—can ever
hope to abate the sad evü of juvenile crime, is, in our opinion, a fallacy of the most dangerous
nature, because it is one of the popular notions of the day. " Reading and writing," said
the late Dr. Cooke Taylor, " is no more knowledge than a knife and fork is a good ¿nner;"
and even if it wsre knowledge, we do not believe that mere secular education—the develop-
28'
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDOH.
ment of pure intellect—is a certain remedy against infractions of the law. " The heart,
said Coleridge, "has its logic as well as the head;" and if it be deaf to reason, how shall we
reach it by adiressing our arguments to the brain alone ? Surely Palmer knew well enough
how to read and write, and was deeply versed in science too, and yet he was criminal by
means of this very science itself. The cultivation of the feelings, however—the education of
the moral sentiments—the development of the conscience—the teaching of duties and riglits
—the inculcation of a love of the beautiful, the true, and the just—are matters that every
criminal nature needs to he informed upon ; and yet people fancy that Dilworth, and Guy,
and Mangnall's Questions, and the Tutor's Assistant and Catechisms, can supply the defect.
Years ago, we pointed out to the heads of the Ragged Schools that, though they had insti¬
tuted a vast educational machinery for the prevention of juvenile crime, they had made not
>he least impression upon the statistical records of the country; for that our prisons swarmed
with even a greater number of young oifenders, in proportion to the population, than when
they began their labours ; and no sooner were the articles published in the Morning Chronicle,
than we were pelted with dirt from every evangelical assembly throughout the Metropolis ;
and even my Lord Ashley, with high Christian charity and telling platform rhetoric, did us
the honour to say (though we had- merely quoted figures from the criminal returns of the
country), that " we had asserted things which we dare not repeat at the bar of our God."
A few weeks ago, however, we spoke with a gentleman who has assuredly had the
largest experience of any in connection with the young criminals of this country ; and he told
us, that people were now beginning to see that the Ragged Schools had not been attended
with that amount of benefit which persons originally had been led to expect from them !
Indeed it is demonstrable, by our criminal records, that with aR our educational endea¬
vours to improve and instruct the prisoners, we are in no way reducing the crime of the
country (for still the same ratio pf 15 criminals to every 10,000 of our population continues
from year to year) ; but rather we are decreasing only the proportion that are wholly unable
to read and write, and increasing the per centage of those who are able to read and write
imperfectly; or, in the words of an intelligent policeman, "we are teaching our thieves to
prig the articles marked at the highest figures."
In the criminal returns of 1848, the following significant table was given :—
TABLE SHOWING THE CENTESIMAL OF INSTKDCTION OF PERSONS OP ALL AGES COMMITTED FOR TRIAL,
FROM 1839 TO 1848 INCLUSIVE.
Years.
Unable to read
or write.
Able to read
and write
imperfedlly.
Able to read
and write well.
Supprior
instruction.
Instruction
could not be as.
certained.
1839
33-53
53-48
10-07
0-32
2-60
1840
33-32
55-57
8-29
0-37
2-46
1841
33-21
56-67
7-40
0-45
2-27
1842
32-35
58 32
6-77
0-22
2-34
1843
31-00
57-60
8-02
0-47
2 91
1844
29-77
59-28
8 42
0-42
2-41
184.5
30-61
58 34
8-38
0-37
2-30
1846
30-66
69-61
7-71
0-34
1-78
1847
31 39
68-89
7-79
0-28
1-65
1848
31-93
66-38
9-83
0-27
1-59
•The instruction of the offenders," added Mr. Redgrave, of the Home Ofldce, "has been
without much variation, exhibiting, on a comparison of the last ten years, a decreased pro¬
portion of those entirely pninstructed and, it might be added, a corresponding increase of
those who are able to read and write imperfectly.
The subjoined table, however, which has been compiled from the Nineteenth Report of
the Inspectors of Prisons, gives the latest returns upon the subject, and for all classes oi
prisoners in England and Wales
HOUSE OF COERECTION, ÏOTHILL FIELDS.
391
TABLE SHOWING THE PEOPORTION PRR CENT, AS TO THE EDUCATIONAL KNOWLEDGE OP THE SEVEBAL PKIÖONEUS
THROUGHOUT ENGLAND AND WALKS, IN THE COUUSB OP THE YEARS 1842—53, BOTH INCLUSIVE.
1M2.
\8size8 and sessions .
iSummary couviclione
Total
1813.
Vssiz B and sesBions .
dummary cunvictiona
Total
1844.
AHBizes ano aesBions
Summary convictions
Total
1845.
VBsizes and sessions .
Summary cuiiviciions
Totol
1846.
jAssizes und aessions
bunimury convictions
Total
I
1847.
'ASKizes and sessions
Summary convictions
Total.
2'C
â ^
*« h
®s
s ®
â
39-79
39-90
39-84
38-50
40-16
39-33
39-72
36 87
38-29
35-67
3468
35-18
37-73
33-81
35-73
36-63
34-60
35 57
27-21
21-65
24'43
25-85
21-20
23 53
26-95
22-82
24-89
-28-98
21-51
25 24
-28-85
.«■88
24-86
28 92
21-33
25-12
G¿
28-93
33^43
31-18
31-94
33-95
32-94
30-11
35-49
32-80
31 79
38-61
35 20
30 26
40 91
35-60
30-86
-39-39
3. 13
4-07
4-18
4-13
3-71
3-8-1
3-5Í
4 6i
l-Oî
3-49
l'¿9
í'll
3-85
-16
08
16
-08
•16
08
•OR
El
-34
•52
•26
loo-on
100 00
100-00
100 0(
100-00
100 00
100-01:
100-00
100-01
100-00
100-00
100-00
100-00
lOO-Oo
lOÜ 00
100-011
100 00
100-00
1848.
Assizes and sessions
Summary convictions
Total
1849.
\8sizes and sessions
Summary convictions
Total
1850.
\ssizes and sessions .
■Summary convictions
Total
1851.
Assizes und sessions .
Sulumury convictions
Total.
1852.
\ssizes and sessions
suiiiuiury couviclioiiB
Total
1853.
■\ssizes and sessions
Siimmar} convictions
Total
37-05
35-30
36-18
38-57
37-79
38-18
39-17
37*31
38*24
39-37
37-34
38-36
39-74
38-09
30-92
36 63
36-85
36-74
26-43
22-49
24-46
25-26
21-12
13-19
25 11
21-00
23-06
22-93
20-11
21-52
-25-69
20-89
23-29
27-53
20 35
PtS
C Oi
S'a
*• u
G£
ÖO
32 56
3-9G
37.-35 4-11-
34-95
33-14
36-86
35-00
31-66
37-66
34-66
34-73
38-73
4-07
3-03
3-60
3-31
4-06
3-52
2-93
3-38
36-73 .3-15
30-82
37-54 8 39
23-94
34-18 3-52
32-87 2-95
39-44 2-98
36-16 ¡2-9!
IS /
flj
I
Total.]
•16
•08
-09
52
0-26
-09
100 Ooi
100 00'
100-00
100 00
100-00
15
1U0-(H)
160-00
100-00
100-00
100 00'
100 00
100 00
100-00
lOO-Ol
100-00.
100-00
100-00
100 00
ANNUAL HRAN.
FOR all CCASSU.
•o
es
e» .
^ S
« «
es
1
V
K
g
e
CS
u
c7
-£
ÎC '
u*? «
w o-¿
•C*® r
§ "
L>
Can rend and
write «ell.
s
ir
S- _J
"5 ^
s éJ
G,a
g i*
■
§ .
S'a
a
:|
îï
!l
î
Total.
Assizes and sessions . .
Summary convictions .
38-21
37-23
26 f5
21 24
81 G4
3714
3-49
3-81
•Ol
•15
43
100 on
100-00
Juveniles.. .
42-52
24-12
311 21
-2-68
-02
•15
100 00
33-Ó0
21-82
37-ei
6-49
■31
•26
100-00 !
DIFFERENCE PER CENT. BETWEEN THE EDUCAIIONAL KNOWLEDGE OF PRISONERS IN 1842 AND 1853.
•o
S
^ a»
t..
c
«T
í-é
■a
=-í
.
s
■o
o
Ii
• 'S
■o
= >■1.
•e s
et
£2
.si
i s
Total.
6 fi
G ®
o
c £
3"
«
s!
S
u
i "
5
O
ig
1
cc
AU clasaca in 1842
36-96
22-34
33 67
6 50
•19
-.34
lOOMtO 1
1M3
33-83
21-38
33-49
5-27
•24
•29
lOO-oO 1
UUforence
— 3-13
— ■46
-f 3 82
— 1-33
+ •05
— -05
Adalta in 1842
35 89
21-96
34-59
6-97
•22
•37
100-00
1853
32-86
21-66
39-32
5-59
•27
•30
lUO-00
Difference • ■
— 3-03
— •83
H-4ÍS
-1-42
+ -05
- -07
.luTcniIca in 1842
45-21
25-87
26-49
2-78
•01
•14
100-00
„ 1853
41-54
24-22
31-87
2*19
■01
•17
100-00
Uiffi-Tcnce
— 8-67
-1-18
•f 5-38
— •59
—
+ •03
392
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
Thus, then, we perceive that the sole result of nil our educational attempts in connection
with juvenile prisoners has been, not to make any marked impression upon their numerical
amount (for in the year 1842, 11,602 passed through the prisons of all England and Wales,
whereas in 1852 the number that did so was 11,821, whilst in 1853 it was 11,453), but
rather to decrease the number of those who can neither read nor write, or who can read
only ; for it will be seen, on reference to the above returns, that in 1842 there was 45-21 per
cent, of juvenile prisoners who were wholly uneducated, whereas in 1853 there was only
41-54 per cent, belonging to the same class. Again, of those who could read only there was
25-37 per cent, in 1842, and only 24-22 per cent, in 1853, so that, -with these two uneducated
classes, there had been a red/uction of very nearly 5 per cent, in the twelve years. During
the same period, however, it -will be found, on reference to the above table, that the pro¬
portion of young prisoners who could read and write imperfectly had been increased in an
equal ratio ; for whilst in 1842 the imperfectly educated class of juvenile prisoners was only
20-49 per cent., in 1853 it was no less than 31-87 per cent., or upwards of 5 per cent,
more than it had been twelve years before.
Now, surely, the unprejudiced will admit that there is no gainsaying such facts as these,
for they must be allowed to be overpowering evidence that this same educational panacea for
crime has proved comparatively fruitless. Do people in the nineteenth century stiU require
to be told that reading and -writing are but the instruments of acquiring knowledge, rather
than knowledge itself ; and that the faculty which, -with righteous persons, may be applied
to the study of the Bible or other good works, may, on the other hand, be used by un¬
righteous ones for the perusal of Jack Sheppard and such like degrading literature? It
should be remembered that it is only -within a few centuries that even gentlefolks have been
able to read or -write at aU—and yet in the olden time such people were not utterly criminal
because they were utterly unlettered ; and the reason why the thieves of the present day
belong principally to the ignorant classes is because they come mostly from the poorer
portion of our community, and a want of education is indicative of the want of means to
obtain it. Accordingly, if any other test was to be taken which should be, like the want
of education, a sign as to the want of means in the class—such, for instance, as the use of
different kinds of pocket-handkerchiefs—tables might be drawn up showing that the smaller
number of criminals indulged in white cambric ones, and that a considerable proportion
carried red cotton bandannas, whilst by far the la/rger number used none at all ; and thence
theories might be framed, that the blo-wing of the nose -with the fingers was productive
of crime.
Now, it must not be imagined from what is here written that we are adverse to the
spread of education among the people—far from it. "We readily admit, that the sole test
of high -wisdom is leading a virtuous and happy life, and that the profoundest know¬
ledge can but tend to the profoundest goodness, because virtue alone yields the greatest
happiness both here and hereafter ; and we grant, therefore, that crime, which, sooner or
later, ends in misery, can but be dictated by foUy, and produced by ignorance. Never¬
theless, mere reading and -writing are but the means of obtaining either good or bad know¬
ledge, according to the cultivation and tendencies of the mind which uses them, and so
may become an instrument of e-vil in the hands of a viciously-disposed person, even as
they are of good to the virtuous-minded.
What our young criminals stand far more in need of than reading and -writing, is in¬
dustrial training. They require to be taught, not only the habit of industry, but also the
use and the dignity of it. The majority of the young, and, indeed, even the old,
criminals are utterly ignorant of aU means of getting their own living ; for, according to the
account given by Mr. Antrobus, one of the visiting justices at the Westminster House of
Correction, "out of 1,481 boys committed to the Westminster prison during the year
ending Michael""", 1852, only 129, or 8| percent., had received any industrial education;
HOUSE GE COREECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
393
and, on investigation, it appeared that very few even of those had more than a slight
knowledge of the trade to which they said they belonged."*
It is manifest, therefore, that if youths be educated to no trade or business, and be reared
in habits of idleness rather than industry, they can hardly be expected, when they come
to man's estate, to delight in labouring for their living, or to have much faith in their
own powers, or any sense of self-respect—or, indeed, any of those virtues which tend to
give a man a consciousness of his own dignity and position in the great scheme of human
nature.
Nor are these mere day-dreams on our part, for the most successful experiments that have
been made of late years, concerning the reformation of the young, are those in connection
with industrial schools. At the Philanthropic Farm School, at Redhill, it is said that some
75 per cent, of the juvenile offenders who are sent there are led to adopt an honest life ;
and the industrial ragged schools of Sheriff Watson, in Aberdeen, as well as the shoe-
• We extract the following table from Mr. ^ntrobus's instructive and benevolent work, " J^e Prison
and the School —
RETVaM OF THE TKADES OF BOYS COMMITTED TO THE HOUSE OP COHKECTION AT WESTMIHSTEK DUHING
THE YEAH ENDIMO MICHAELMAS, 1852.
Shoemakers
Tailors ....
Paper-stainers .
Whitesmiths, Gunsmiths
Locksmiths, and Copper
smiths
Plasterers .
Carpenters
French Polishers
Printers
25
11
B
Painters
Rope-makers .
Chair-makers
Butchers
Glass-blowers .
Carvers and Gilders
Bookbinders
Basket-makers
Hatters
Bricklayer
4
3
3
3
3
2
2
2
2
1
Blacksmith . . .1
Cabinet-maker . . 1
Baker . . 1
Other trades . . . . 32
Total . . .123
Clerks 2
No trade or occupation 1,350
Grand Total 1,481
As regards the industrial knowledge of the females in the same prison, Mr. Antrobus supplies us with
the subjoined table concerning the attainments of 646 females :—
HETUKN as to the state of INDUSTBXAL education of THE FEMALES COMMITTED TO THE WESTMIMSTEB
HOUSE OF COERECnON, JUNE, 1863.
Ability to Sew or having a slight Knowledge of
Needlework.
Ability to Knit.
None.
Some.
l.eamed
in prison.
Total.
None.
Some.
Learned
in prison.
Total.
Number 68
469
119
646
161
367
168
686
Per cent. 8'9
72-6
18-6
•100
23-6
53-6
23-6
•100
Of the 469 females who are here stated to be able to sew, or have some slight knowledge of needlework,
" one-half," the author tells us, " were able to accomplish merely the most simple work in the crudest
manner. It is, however, not from any lack of ability," adds Mr. Antrobus, "that this extreme ignorance
arises, for it is surprising how very soon the great majority of the younger women (under 26 years of age)
learn the various works taught in the prison—the average time taken by them in learning to make a straw
bonnet, complete from first to last, being only six weeks, i.e., fourteen days to learn the plait, and twenty-
eight days to accomplish the cleaning, blocking, and making-up."
Again, the same authority publishes a table of the trades of the prisoners committed to Coldhath Fields,
which proves, as he says, " that it is not the mechanic or artisan that encumbers a prison, for out of 6,643
prisoners committed in the year ending Michaelmas, 1862, only 667 (or 10 per cent.) had any knowledge of
ft trftdv« '
304
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
black brigade, in connection with the ragged schools of the Metropolis, have been of more
sorvioo towards reclaiming boys from evil courses, than all the spelling-books, and gram¬
mars, and catechisms in Eiu-ope.
We now come to the second consideration which wo proposed at the beginning of this
article, viz., what fate eventually befalls the young criminals of our coimtry ?
That the juvenile offender ultimately ripens into the old felon and transport is admitted
by all; still, it cannot be said that the whole of the 15,000 or 20,000 boy thieves and
vagrants infesting the country grow up to bo the future convicts. Many of our young
criminals are transferred to that admirable institution, the Philanthropic Farm School, at
Reigate,* and are there trained to agricultural pursuits, with a view to their ultimate
settlement in the colonies ; for the reverend gentleman at the head of that establishment
has ably shown that it is almost idle to expect to reclaim the youthful delinquent in this
country, surrounded, as he generally is, by a crowd of felon relatives and friends. It is
asserted that this institution reclaims some three-fourths of those who come under its care.
God speed it ! we say.
How many other young criminals are won to honest courses by similar institutions and
reformatories throughout the country we are not, at present, able even to conjecture. Suffice
it, many are applying themselves, heart and soul, to the good work of the redemption of
those poor wretches who seem to have been born with a handcuff about their wrist, the same
as the more lucky members of society are said to come into the world with a silver spoon in
their mouth ; for, surely, even the sternest-minded amongst us must admit, that he who
enters upon life viâ some convict mirsery has a very different career before him to the
one whose birth is hailed by the firing of cannon, and whose mother's couch is surrounded
by all the ministers of state.
A small proportion of the gross number of juvenile offenders, however, die in the prisons
of the country—^but only about 1 per 1,000; for in the year 1853 there were merely 12
deaths out of a gross prison population of 11,749 boys and girls under 17 years of ago.
How many of the same class are summoned to their last account outside the prison walls
it is impossible to say ; still, the mortality among them can hardly tend to thin the ranks
of our infant vagabonds to any considerable extent.
Admitting, however, that the reformatories, and farm schools, and industrial institutions,
as well as the boy convict prisons, are attended with the best possible success, it certainly
cannot be said that, even with the deaths among the class, 25 per cent, of the entire number
of our young criminal population are snatched from their wretched life. It will be found,
on consulting the prison returns, that no less than 33 per cent, of the young thieves and
vagrants are re-committed to each of our jails in the course of the year, so that, as this
large per centage refers only to the boys who are known to the authorities of the prison
in which they may happen to be incarcerated for the time being, it is highly probable
(if the returns upon the subject could possibly be obtained) that the per centage of those
who had been previously committed to some jail or other throughout the coimtry would
be found to amount, at the very least, to two-thirds of the whole. "We incline, then,
to the belief that the proportion of juvenile offenders annually removed from the 15,000
to 20,000 at which we have estimated the gross numbers of the young criminal popu¬
lation of the country, by reformatories and other institutions, amounts barely to one-
third of the whole. Consequently, there would remain some 10,000 or 12,000 unaffected
by our many efforts towards the reformation of the class, and who must, ultimately,
• TIktb are also usually some 600 young prisoners at the Boy Convict Prison at Pnrkhiirst (the average
(liiily number in confinement there was 593, in the year 1853), and of these about 100 appear to be received
uiiiiually.
INTERIOR OF THE SURREY HOUSE OF CORRECTION, WANDSWORTH.
WITH THE rUlSONERS TURNING OUT AFTER DINNER.
HOTJSE OF COREECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
395
pass into the body of the adult professional thieves that are continually preying on our com¬
munity.
The next point to be settled is—^how many are required to be added every year to the
number of our old habitual offenders, in order to maintain the criminal population at the
ratio of 15 to every 10,000 of our people, at which it has stood for several years ? But
this problem there is a simple method of solving. We have before shown that, under the
old system of transportation, some 2,000 convicts were, for a series of years, annually
shipped off to the penal colonies, so that if we could leam, by any means, the proportion
that the old habitual criminals among these bore to the " first-offence men," we should
be enabled to state, with some little certainty, how many firesh hands must yearly join our
criminal bands in order to keep up the stock.
Now, by a series of compilations and deduetións made from the criminal returns of
the country,* we have attempted to classify the offences, not only according to their causes.
* t.\ble showino the annual average ratio of 1
population op the country,
Class I.—Crimes op Ferocity and Malice.
No. of
ObDER a—Casml. every^
1,000,(X)0 of
population.
Murder cases 20'16
Homicidal and assault cases . . , 58'46
Arson cases 9-73
Destruction cases . ... 189
Total of all casual cases of ferocity
and malice .... 90'20
Order B—Habitual.
Burglary cases . . . 79*03
Highway robbery cases • . 25'84
Smuggling (armed) cases . . . 0'09
Poaching (armed) cases . . . 7'35
Esci^e cases 1-45
Total all habitual cases of ferocity
and malice 113'99
Total all cases of ferocity and malice 204'19
Class II.—Crimes op Cupidity and Temptation.
Order A—Casual.
Breach of trust cases .... 142*64
Order B—Habitual.
Sattle stealing, &c., cases . . 24*17
Larceny cases 984*79
Petty offence cases .... 9*73
Receiving cases 77*65
Forgery cases . ... 0*49
Coining cases 28*02
Other felony cases .... 6*69
Total all habitual cases of cupidity
tmd temptation .... 1134*19
Total all cases of cupidity and
temptation ..... 1276*83
he several classes op criminals to the general
prom the year 1844 to 1853.
Class III.—Crimes of Lust, Indecency,
Perverted Appetites, &c.
No. of
- , _ _ Cnminate
Order A—Casual, in every
1,000,000 of
population.
Lust cases 15*57
Shame cases (as concealing births, &c.) . 4*58
Indecency cases 0*23
Cases against marriage laws . . 4*62
Unnatural offence cases . . . 6*31
Total all casual cases of lust, &c. . 31*38
Order B—Habitual.
Brothel cases 5-82
Total all habitual cases of lust, &c. 37*20
Class IV.—Evn. Spearing.
Threatening cases 1-44
Pequry cases 3-83
Total all cases of evil speaking . 5*27
Class V.—Political Cases.
Political cases 1-54
Total all cases of casual crimes . . 264*22
„ „ habitual crimes . . 1254*00
Total mixed crimes (as evil speaking, &c.) 6*81
Total 1525*03
Total all cases of ferocity and malice . 204*19
„ „ cupidify and temptation 1276*83
„ „ lust, indecency, &c. . 37*20
„ „ evil speaking . . 5*27
„ „ political offences . . 1*54
1525*03
396
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
but also according as they are pursued as a matter of trade or living ; and thus, by
sub-dividing each of the five classes of offences, into which we have arranged all
crimes, into two orders—the casual and habitual—according as they are the acts of either
regular or, so to speak, accidental offenders, we have been enabled to arrivç at
something like the proximate truth as to the proportions of the casual and habitual
offenders.
By means of this statistical analysis, we have demonstrated (see Table at p. 395) that
there are altogether 15'25 criminals in every 10,000 of our population; and that of
these 2-64 (or 17^ per cent, of the whole) belong to the casual class, whilst 12*54
(or 82^ per cent.) appertain to the kahitml. class, and 0*06 hardly admit of being
arranged under either head. At this ratio, then, of the habitual to the casual criminals,
the 2,000 convicts that were annually sent out of the country, until within the last
few years, without producing the least diminution of the stock of old offenders at home,
must have required some 1,650 professional thieves to have been annually added to the
felon ranks.
Further, some few of the more successful and lucky criminals occasionally pass into a
half-honest form of life. Some, for instance, take to cah-driving, others to costermongering,
others to dealing in "marine stores," as it is called, and others to keeping low lodging-
houses, whilst others, again, die in the convict prisons, or the hospital, or workhouse ; so
that, altogether, we are led to believe that some 2,000 criminals, at least, are required to
be added every year to the general stock, in order to maintain that steady ratio of offenders
to the population which has continued in this country for nearly the whole of the present
century.
Hence it would appear that, of the great body of our juvenile criminals, about one-fifth
(or 2,000 out of the 10,000 that we have calculated to remain after aU our efforts at refor¬
mation) may be said to pass annually into the ranks of the adult habitual offenders, and
thus to serve to keep up that unvarying army of British Arabs, or Souquas, or Fingoes, that
continually prey upon the industry of oiu* people.
In conclusion, it must not be presumed that the above statistical details are here given
with any desire that the reader should put implicit faith in them. Such recorded facts as
could he collected in connection with the matter have been cited from the best authorities,
and conjectm'es have been made with all that caution which is so necessary in reasoning
upon subjects concerning which we cannot arrive at any certainty. But the writer
was anxious of opening the question concerning the amount of waste and supply among
the criminal body of this country; and it is believed that the matter, once started,
will originate in the mind of all .those interested in the great social problem of crime,
a desire to ohtain more reliable information concerning the number that annually disappear
from, and are drafted into, the criminal ranks. Moreover, when the subject of juvenile
delinquency comes to be regarded in its relation to the crimes committed by the
adult and habitual offenders of the country, the writer is assured that more earnest and
philosophic experiments wiU be tried in connection ■«dth the reformation of our young
outcasts.
The following significant table wiU form an apt appendix to the above article, showing,
as it does, that out of some 9,000 and odd young offenders, committed to the Westminster
House of Correction between the years 1851—55, for thirty different infractions of tlie
law, there were no less than 6,000, or about 70 per cent., committed for four offences
alone, and these were mostly of a dishonest character; whilst the remaining 3,000, it will
he seen, were sent to prison for such trivial offences as throwing stones, obstructing
highways, unlawful ringing and knocking at doors, &.c., &c. ; matters surely for which
HOUSE OF COllRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS. 397
it is unwise, if not unjust, to subject a child to the lasting disgrace, if not contamination,
of a jail :—
table showing the average number and pe0p0e.t10n per cent. of juvenile male phi-
sonf.rs annually commitfed to tothill fields prison, pok the 8f.vf.ral offences enumerated
below:—
Totsil fr(»m
Proportion
1851-60, both
Annual Mean.
per cent.
inclusive.
Simple larceny .......
l,83o
367 0
19-97
Reputed thieves, rogues, and vagabonds
1,674
334 8
18 22
Unlawful possession of property ...
1,66.S
333-6
18-15
Felonies, with imprisonment and hard labour
1,430
287-0
15-62
Begging, or sleeping in the open air -
84S
169-6
9-23
Stealing fruit, plants, trees, &u. ...
369
73-8
4-02
Assaults, common
286
ó7-2t
3-11
Misdemeanours, throwing stones, &c.
247
49-4
2-69
Wilful damage - - ....
198
39-6
2-15
Assaults on police -------
180
36-0
1-95
Gaming
110
22-0
1-25
Misbehaviour in workhouses - - - -
96
19-2
1-04
Obstructing highways - -
91
18 2
0-99 •
Disorderly apprentices ... . .
48
9-6
0-52 ,
Drunk and disorderly ......
21
4-2
0-23
Illegally pawning ......
18
3-6
0-19
Cruelty to animals - - ....
Id
3-0
0-16
Unlawful ringing and knocking at doors ...
10
2-0
0-11
Frauds (summarily convicted) .....
6
1-2
0-07
Obtaining money by false pretences
6
1-2
0-07
Furious driving, insolence to fares, &c. ...
5
1-0
0-05
Dog stealing .... . .
5
1-0
0-05
Frauds tried at Sessions ......
4
0-8
0-04
Indecent exposure of the person . . . .
2
04
0-02
Unlawful collection of dust ....
2
0-4
0-02
Excise offences .......
2
04
0-02
Trespass, fishing, poaching, &c. ....
2
0-4
0-02
Receiving embezzled property .....
2
0-4
0-02
Attempts at burglary ......
1
0-2
0-01
Assaults, unnatural .......
1
0-2
0-01
Total
9,187
1837-4
10000
398
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
H ii-—7-
Of the Interior of TotMll Fields Prison.
Assuredly, if it were not for the massive iron gates, weighing no less than three tons, and
the sternly-handsome stone gateway, with the dwarf wall skirting the carriage-way that
leads to the prison portal, we should hardly, on being ushered across the planted court-yard
that leads to the governor's house, be led to imagine that we were entering a house of
correction. True, there is the same military-looking warder, habited in the undress surtout
indulged in by officers of the army, and the same little office next the gateway, with the
row of cutlasses strung together on a chain, like herrings on a rush, and the same sloping
desks and ugly ledgers as you see at other prisons; nevertheless, the turfed quadrangle,
fringed hy lines of drooping ash-trees, with their leafy branches bending down to the earth,
as if they were so many arborescent fountains springing from the ground, and the pale-
green tufts of feathery-like acacias—aU skirting the triangular patches of bright grass into
which the court-yard is divided, and where a little pyramid of black shot is seen arranged at
each point of the verdant turf—with here and there, too, a white pet rabbit grazing on the
lawn, or a corpulent cat basking in the sun—and the stately-looking governor's house
showing at the end of the avenue, with the gold letters of the hlack clock under the pediment
twinkling in the light, and the steps slanting down from either side of the doorway, that seems
to have been lifted up to the first fioor—all these things, as we walked down the prison
pathway, gave us a notion of being in the precinct of some trim academy, rather than
a jail. Nor did the sight of the hlack maid-servant, who came to the door whñe we waited
for the governor, with her bright-coloured, turbaned head-dress, and long jetty tresses
hanging ahout her shoulders Hke skeins of tiie softest fioss-silk, serve to remove the
impression.
In a few moments, however, we were ushered through a tail, open-barred gate, and
then the dismal-looking, embrazure-like windows, that remind one of lunatic asylums
and union workhouses, and, indeed, everything that has ugly associations in the mind,
rapidly dispelled the agreeable impressions that the first sight of the place had produced
upon us.
Here were the same radiating blocks of buildings that we had been accustomed to see for
the last six months of our life, and the same smell of oakum in the air, the same diamond
gates at each of the doors, and the same warders, with bunches of keys in the shiny
cartouche-box at their hip, and with the brass coat of arms on their stand-up collar, and
the same train of prisoners in sad-coloured dresses, branded on the arms with letters and
figures and marks, either indicative of the number of times they have been re-committed, or
the class to which they belong, or the badges they have obtained for good conduct while
in prison.
On the day of our second visit to Tothül Fields prison, we had arrived some few
minutes after the firing of the gun that summoned the warders to their duties—for it is our
custom, when studying the routine of a prison, to begin the day with the officials and to
end with the closing of the institution for the night ; and accordingly, when we entered the
boys' prison, we found a detachment of young prisoners drawn up at the extremity of one of
the triangular paved airing-yards in rows of five, and each with his satchel of books lying
on the stones at his feet, and with a couple of warders- standing by in attendance upon
them.
These boys were waiting to enter the lavatory at the end of the yard, whilst hanging
against the walls were long jack-towels, at which some jacketless young criminals, .with their
check shirts wide open at the neck, and their hair matted into pencils with the wet, were
busy drying their skin.
EXTERIOR OF THE SURREY HOUSE OF CORRECTION AT WANDSAVORTH.
(From a Photograph by Herbert Watkins, 179, Regent Street.)
:\rOTirKIÎS, with TIIKIIî ("IIII,1)IíEN, EXKIUTSINíí at tt)TIITTTi FIKT,DS riíISOX.
HOUSE GE COERECTION, TOTHILL EIELDS
399
Some, again, were busy combing their hair, standing with their head down, as if "giving
a hack" at leap-fhog, and with their wet locks hanging, like a fiinge of camel's-hair hrushes,
straight down from their forehead, whilst the attendant warders cried to one of the young
prisoners, "Tour hrace over your shoulder, do you hear, there?" and to another, "Dry
yourself well, hoy."
Of the lads that remained drawn up in the yard, one-half were rosy-cheeked, their
skin shiny with the recent scrubbing, and their hair ribbed like corduroy with the
teeth of the comb ; the other half stood with their gray prison jackets • thrown loosely
over their shoulders, after the fashion of a hussar, and the flat sleeves dangling limp
and empty as a Greenwich pensioner's by their sides ; whilst from inside of the adjoining
lavatory—where the soapy water in the troughs round the walls was of the same semi-
opaque colour as the celebrated "sky-blue" of the Turnham Green and Wandsworth
academies—there issued a spluttering and hissing sound from the batch of prisoners washing
themselves, that reminded one of the noise made by the steam eternally escaping from the
knot of locomotives at the Chalk Earm Railway Station.
" The boys take a warm hath once a month, besides the usual one on reception," said the
chief warder, who stood at our elbow; "and they likewise have a foot-hath twice every week,"
,It was soon time for the young prisoners to fall in, previous to entering the oakmn-room ;
and accordingly the newly-washed troop, who appeared cleaner and fresher than they
probably had ever looked before in all their lives, were marched across the airing-yard and
drawn up behind the bars of the tail iron gate at the other end.
This gate serves to separate the triangular, flagged space between the prison wings
from the arc-shaped inspection-yard surrounding the chief warder's house; and when we had
passed through it, wo beheld a number of similar gangs of urchin-prisoners drawn up at the
gates of the other airing-yards, and all with their faces glistening with the morning's soaping.
As we turned round to take a general view of the boys' prison, the various openings
between the blocks of buildings, diverging from the central space in which we stood,
reminded us somewhat of the many thoroughfares radiating from the Seven Dials ; and the
reader has but to imagine the several streets of that classic district to he replaced by the
exercising-yards of the prison, and the monster-lamped public-houses and penny-ice shops
that now form the termini of the various lines of houses converging to the St. Giles's centre
to stand for the gable ends of the different prison wings, and the numberless bird-fanciers'
shops and halfpermy shaving ditto to he changed into long fortress-looking walls, pierced at
intervals with embrasure-like windows—the reader has but to fancy thus much, we say, to
have as good an ideal sketch as we can give him of the hoys' prison at Tothill Eields. To
complete the picture, however, he must imagine the buUdings to he all new and the
colour of nankeen with their unsiiUied yellow bricks, and the spaces between them to look
as clean and desolate as the streets of the Metropolis during a heavy shower, and the
entrance to each airing-yard to be railed off by a high iron gate, after the fashion of some
deserted inn of court.
Accompanied by the chief warder, we now passed to what is called " airing-yard 7 and
8," that is to say, to the paved triangular space between the prison wings bearing those
numbers respectively; for we should here state that the boys' prison at TothUl Eields
consists (like each of the two divisions devoted to the females) of five distinct wings or
radii, with a triangular court-yard between every two of them—tke first and last of such
wings being single prisons, and the three others double ones, and the so-called double
prisons having each an entrance from the airing-yard on either side of them.* Thus,
* In each double prison there are fifty-six separate cells, excepting in prison 2 and 3, which has only
thirty-six, on account of the large dormitory occupying the upper floor. No. 1 (single) prison has twenty-
one cells, and No. 8 (also a single nrisonl but ten cells ; for the 8«hool-room and tailors' and shoemakers' shops
400
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
prison 1 is a " single prison," and next to it comes airing-yard 1 and 2 ; then follows
"prison 2 and 3," and then airing-yard 3 and 4; after this we have "prison 4 and 5," and
after that airing-yard 5 and 6; the latter adjoins "prison 6 and 7," which, in its turn,
forms one side of airing-yard 7 and 8 ; whilst at the other side of the airing-yard stands the
remaining single "prison 8." Across the further end or base of the triangular airing-yard,
termed " 7 asad 8," there is built a large shed, and this forms the oakum-room of the boys'
prison ; thither the young prisoners who, as we have said, stood drawn up in gangs at the
gates of the various yards after their morning wash, were now about to pass, in order to
begin their day's labour at " teasing" the old junk.
As we entered this yard, we found it littered with tubs, having each a board across the
top, on which stood a tin can and holystone ready for scouring the flags, whilst a prisoner
was busy washing a püe of metal panikins, in the centre of the open space.
" You can pass them in now," said the warder ; and the order was no sooner given than
the keys rattled in the locks of the nearest exercising-yard, and the gates groaned as they
turned heavily on their hinges. " Pass on," said one of the warders; and then the boys
from " 6 and 7 " came filing along, one after another, in a continuous stream, each with his
smaU canvas satchel of books dangling from his hand ; these were immediately followed by
the urchins from " 3 and 4," and when this yard was emptied, those from " 1 and 2" kept
up the apparently endless line.
"We now entered the oakum-room at the end, as we said, of yard 7 and 8, and found the
interior of the shed somewhat like a large barn, with the whitewashed tie-beams and rafters
showing overhead. The shed was filled with seats, that ranged from one end of the long
room to the other, and stood on a slightly-inclined plane, so as to have the appearance of a
large booth at a fair or stand at a race-ground—with the exception that the side which is
usually open at such places was, in the prison, fitted with the peculiar lengthy windows
that, in the district of Spitalfields, are termed "long-lights." Here was the same tarry
smell of oakum as is peculiar to all such places.
At the time of our entry, the serving out of the oakum for the day's labour was going
on. At one end of the room was a warder, sitting beside a small box of hooks and a pair of
large, buttermonger-Hke scales. Near these stood three boy-prisoners, with baskets of
brown, tarry, old junk, and bits of rope close beside them. One of the boys placed a
bundle of the junk into the scale-pan, whilst another stood by with the weights in his hand
—two pounds in one and one and a half in the other—and placed either the heavier or the
lighter one in the scale, according as the lad to whom the bundle of strands was served out
was older or younger.
"Boys of sixteen," said the chief warder to us, "have two pounds of junk given out to
them ; those under sixteen, one and a half pound ; and those under nine years of age, only
one pound. Some of the young ones, however, who have been in the prison many times
before, have one and a half pound to do ; and they manage it better even than the older lads."
The oakum is ready weighed into parcels of the various quantities before it comes to the
work-room, and being sorted into different baskets, it has, in the morning, only to be served
out. The weights, however, are placed in the scale at the same time, so that the prisoner
may see that he gets no more than his fair allowance.
As we stood beside the warder at the end, the boys came filing past the scales, the
balance clicking the while, as the several bundles were thrpwn from the baskets into the
pan, and the hooks ratthng in the box as each of the prisoners dipped into it.
In a few minutes the lads were all busy at their day's work, with the hooks tied just above
the knee; some "fiddling away," as the prison phrase goes, at thé unravelled yam passed across
the hook, and others rolling the loosened strands backwards along the other thigh, which
seemed to be coated with glue, from the tar with which it had got to be covered, while the at¬
mosphere of the place grew gradually hazed with the dust of the abraded tow flying in the air.
A death-like silence prevailed throughout the place, and round the room the warders sat
HOUSE GE COßEECTION, TOTHILL EIELDS.
401
on high, lawyer'8-clerk-like stools, with their eyes intently fixed on the young urchins, and
ready to put a stop to the least attempt at communication among them.
"They are kept at the oakum-work for nearly five hours altogether in the day," the
chief warder informed us ; " and they are expected," he added, " each to do the quantity
served out to them in that time. They begin at a quarter past seven, and continue working
fill half-past four, with the intervals of an hour and three-quarters for their meals during
the day, as well as an hour for exercising, and another hour and three-quarters for schooling
and Divine service."*
We afterwards learnt, on visiting the oakum-store, that there is, altogether, about from
24 to 26 cwt. of oakum picked, on an average, every week, in TothiU Fields prison. Of
this quantity, the boys do nearly one-half, or between 11 and 12 cwt.f
* The following is a list of the routine in the boys' prison at Tothill Fields :—
h. m.
6 25. Gun fired for admission of warders.
6 30. Unlocking of prisoners' cells and washing of "boys.
7 0. Work begins.
8 30. Breakfast.
9 15. Chapel.
10 15. Exercise, work, and school ; the boys being thus occupied, in different detachments, at
the same time.
2 0. Dinner.
3 0. "Work, exercise, and school.
4 30. Work ends.
5 0. Work given in.
5 30. Supper.
6 0. Lock up for the night.
6 15. Warders go off duty.
Time occupied in meals, hours.
„ „ in exercising, chapel, and schooling, 2| hours.
„ „ in labour, 6 hours.
t We were furnished with the following official account of the quantity of oakum picked at this prison :—
A STATEMENT OP THE ttUANTITY OP JVNK ISSUED TO EACH PRISONED., MALE AND PEMALE, DAILY.
Bots.
Fehalbb.
At the age
of 16.
Under the
age of 16.
Under the
age of 9.
16 years of
age and
upwards.
Under the
age of 16.
Females with
their
children.
2 lbs.
If lb.
lib.
l|lb.
1 lb.
1 lb.
A SEPARATE ACCOflNT OP OAKUM PICKED DAILY BY THE MALE AND PEMALE PRISONERS.
Bots.
1
Females.
Date—1856.
- -0
& a>
x>
E3
Quantities.
Date—1856.
Ci o
e|_
Quantities.
cwt.
qrs.
lbs.
1 a
Q>
cwt.
qrs.
lbs.
June 29—Saturday . .
July 1—Monday. . .
„ 2—Tuesday. . .
„ 3—Wednesday
„ 4—Thursday . .
„ 5—Friday . . .
164
153
162
152
157
154
2
1
2
1
2
2
0
3
0
2
0
0
0
9
0
24
24
2
June 29—Saturday . .
July 1—Monday. . .
„ 2—Tuesday. . .
„ 3—"W^ednesday. .
„ 4—Thursday . .
„ 6—Friday . . .
189
182
186
183
190
194
2
2
2
2
2
2
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
8
17|
14
11
13
To'al
942
11
3
3
Total ....
1,124
13
0
74
cwt. qrs. lbs.
Total picked by the boys in the week . . .113 3
Average per diem 1 3 23 14 oz.
Average by each boy, per diem .... 1 6yb
Gross quantity of oakum picked by boys, per annum, about 31 tons.
This, at £4 10». per toa, which is the price paid for the picking, gives, as the yearly earnings of
4t)2
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
In the oakum-room, at the period of our visit, there were altogether about some 150 of
mere children congregated together. Some of the hoys, seated on the lower forms, were
dressed in a suit of prison-blue, marking that they were imprisoned for misdemeanours,
and not sentenced to hard labour. Others were habited in suits of iron-gray, to note
that they have been sentenced to be kept at hard labour, being known technicaUy as
" summary boys," i. e., they had been committed by the magistrates, rather than after
trial. Others, again, had yellow collars to the waistcoats of their gray suits, and this
was to mark them as " sessions' " prisoners, or, in other words, as those who had been
tried and found guilty of larceny or felony. AU the boys wore striped tricolour wooUen
night-caps, which were arranged, by tucking down the peak, into the form of an ordinary
day-cap. Besides these vestiary distinctions, there were others, which consisted of letters
and marks attached to the left arm—such as either a large figure 1 or 2, in yeUow cloth,
to denote the class of prisoners to which they belonged—the third-class prisoners being un¬
marked, and consisting of such as had been sentenced to be imprisoned for fourteen days or
under. The second-class prisoners, however, on the other hand, were under imprisonment for
three months ; whils't the first were those who had more than three months' incarceration
to undergo. Moreover, some of the boys had red marks, besides the yeUow ones, to indicate
the number of times they had been previously committed ; others, again, had badges, show¬
ing that they were imprisoned for two years, whilst others had a yeUow ring on the left
arm, to denote that their sentence was penal servitude.
Once conversant with these distinctions, it was indeed a melancholy sight to look at that
century and a-half of mere children in their prison clothes. Some were so young, that they
seemed to need a nurse, rather than a jailer, to watch over them; others, again, had such
frank and innocent-looking faces, that we could not help fancying they had no business
there ; whilst others had such shamelessness and cunning painted in their features, that
the mind was led insensibly towards fatalism, and to believe in criminal races as thoroughly
as in cretin ones. Many, again, were remarkable for those peculiar Irish gray eyes, which
seem, with their long black lashes—as Lady Morgan said—" to have been put in with dirty
fingers."
We have before remarked, that the greater number of the professional thieves of London
belong to what is called the Irish-Cockney tribe ; and at the boys' prison at Tothill Fields
we can see the little Hibernian juvenile offender being duly educated for the experienced
thief. Some bigots seek to make out that the excess of crime in connection with the
Irish race is due directly or indirectly to the infiuence of the prevailing reMgion of that
country ; and small handbills are industriously circulated among the fanatic frequenters of
Exeter Hall, informing one how, in Papal countries, the ratio of criminals to the population
is enormously beyond that of Protestant kingdoms. From such documents, however, the
returns of Belgium are usually omitted, for these would prove that there is really no
truth in the theory sought to be established ; since it is shown, by the tables printed by
Mr. M'CuUoch in his "Geographical Dictionary," that whereas the ratio of criminals to
the gross population of the country is in Papal Belgium 1'9, and in Romanist France 2-3,
to every 10,000 individuals, it is in Protestant England as many as 12"5 to the same definite
number of people, and in Sweden as high as 87"7 ; so that it is plain that mere differences
of religious creeds cannot possibly explain the different criminal tendencies among different
races of people.*
gross number of the boys employed in oakum-picking, £132. Therefore, each boy-prisoner employed at
oakum-picking may be said to earn about 17s. per annum by their labour.
Now, by tbe official returns, we find that the average cost per head of the prisoners at Tothill Fields
is within a fraction of £8, so that it follows that there is a loss of very nearly £7 a-year upon each of the
boys so employed.
• " In Belgium," says Mr. M'CuUoch, " the amount of crime, with regard to the population, and to the
criminal record of France and England, is comparatively small. M. Ducpetiauz, in a work published in
HOCrSE OP COEEECTION, TOTHILL PIELES.
403
As to what may be the cause of crime in Ireland we are not in a position to speak, not
having given any special attention to the matter ; but the reason why there appears a
greater proportion,of Irish among the thieves and vagrant? of our own country admits of a
very ready explanation. The Irish constitute the poorest portion of our people, and the
children, therefore, are virtually orphans in this country, left to gambol in the streets and
courts, without parental control, from their very earliest years ; the mothers, as well as
the fathers, being generally engaged throughout the day in some of the ruder forms of labour
or street trade. The consequence is, that the child grows up not only unacquainted with
any industrial occupation, but untrained to habits of daily work ; and long before he has
learned to control the desire to appropriate the articles which he either wants or likes, by a
sense of the rights of property in others, he has acquired furtive propensities from association
with the young thieves located in his neighbourhood.
He has learnt, too, what is much worse, thieves' morals—morals which, once in the
heart, it is almost hopeless to attempt to root out. He has learnt to look upon " pluck," or
daring, as the greatest virtue of life ; he has leamt to regard aE those who labour for an
honest living as "flats," or, in plain English, fools; he has leamt to consider trickery, or
" artful dodges," as he calls them, as the highest possible exercise of the intellect, and
to believe that the main object in life is amusement rather than labour. His attention has
never been trained to occupy itself with any one subject for five minutes together, nor have
his impulses been placed under the least restraint. What wonder, then, that he grows up
a mere savage amongst civilized men !
But whatever be the cause, the fact is incontestable, that a very large proportion of the
juvenile prisoners are the children of Irish parents. Indeed, as one looks up and down the
1835, entitled, ' Statisqm Comparée de la Criminalité en Franee, en Belgique, en Angleterre et en Allemagne,'
gives the following results of the several official returns :—Of England, from 1827 to 1833, taking the
population at 13,500,000 ; of France, from 1825 to 1832, population 32,500,000 ; and of Belgium, from 1826
to 1832, population 4,000,000."
Countries.
Annual Average.
Number
Accused to
every
10,000 of
Population..t
Total Accused.
Acquitted.
Condemned.
1
England . .
France
-Belgium. . . ...
16,924
7,340
766
3,556
2,954
142
13,368
4,386
624
12-5
2-3
1-9
Mr. Clarke, the Local Inspector and Chaplain of the jail in the county Bonegal, Ireland, furnishes the
following comparative statistics of crime in England, Scotland, and Ireland in 1852 :—
TABLE SHOWING THE PKOPOBTION OP, OK PERSONS CHARGED WITH, CRIMINAL OFFENCES TO THE POPULATION
(EXCLUSIVE OP CASES OF SUMMARY JURISDICTION) IN EACH OP THE THREE DIVISIONS OF THE UNITED
KINGDOM.
Division.
Population in 1851.
Number of
Accused in 1852.
Number of
Accused in
every
10,000 of the
Population.
England and Wales .
Ireland
Scotland. . .
United Kingdom . .
17,922,768
■ 6,515,794
2,870,784
27,510
17,678
4,027
15-3
27-2
140
27,309,346
49,215
18-0
404
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
différent forms in the boys' oakum-room at Tothill Fields, the unmistakable gray eyes are
found to prevail among the little felons assembled there.*
• Wb have been at considerable pains to ascertain, from the Government Betuma, the districts furnishing
the greatest number of juvenile offenders. For this purpose, we have collated the records furnished in the
Reports of the Inspectors of Prisons for five years consecutively, and ascertained the annual average number
of prisoners of all ages, as well as the annual average number of those under 17 years of age—or, in other words,
the juvenile offenders for each county in England and Wales. We have then estimated the proportion per
cent, that the juvenile offenders bear to those of all ages. The result is given in the following table :—
TABLB SHOWING TUE ANNUAL AVERAGE PER CENTAGB OF JUVENILE PRISONERS TO THE GROSS PRISON
POPULATION, OP ALL AGES, FOR EACH COUNTY IN ENGLAND AND WALES, FROM 1849-53 (BOTH INCLUSIVE).
u
to £
.1
S i
CO
he
0) ^
a> S
£
bL C
CC
tí ° a
btg
^ V
S
O O
S <2 »
jj
t O.Ï
l'Es
fci O O
b ^ 2
S ça «
B
a! £ S
Counties.
> í--r
î4 H ÛJ
.2 B P-
3 Sü
Counties.
IS ® *1}
".So.
"3 Ë ®
in
5 >
S,
— a ®-
Ä g 0)
e a. v-
b-2 =
a
B c 'd
tí o
< .5
a S
Q a> 0)
|b.>
g £-
B
B Î-'b
s
Bedford . . .
813-6
45-2
5-5
Norfolk . .
2406-8
313-6
14-0
Berks ....
1408-2
146-8
10-4
Northampton. .
1196-0
87 0
7-2
Bucks . .
913-8
83-8
9-1
Northumberland.
2338-2
383-2
16-3
Cambridge . .
1436-2
122-0
8-5
Nottingham
1420-0
145-8
10-2
Chester
3472-4
375-8
10-8
Oxford ....
1251-6
98-0
79
Cornwall . .
86.5-0
86-4
9-9
Rutland . . .
104-6
11-0
10-5
Cumberland
703-0
80-0
11-3
Salop ....
1297-4
112-8
8-5
Derby ....
1218-2
117 6
9-6
Somerset . .
4413-8
670-8
15-2
Devon ....
3047-8
306-0
10-0
Southampton. .
2776-6
298-2
10-7
Dorset
986-4
107-2
10-8
Stafford
3970-4
328-2
8-2
Durham .
2058-0
126-2
6-1
Suffolk .
1958-6
175-0
8 4
Essex .
-2345-6
266-6
11-3
Surrey . . .
8403 0
1231-8
14-6
Gloucester
2652-8
317-2
11-9
Sussex. . .
1872-6
215-4
11-5
Hereford . . .
617-8
41-2
6-6
Warwick . . .
3479-2
481-2
13-8
Hertford . .
1117 6
91-2
8-1
Westmoreland .
319-2
20-0
6-2
Huntingdon
384-4
24-6
6-4
Wilts . .
1509-6
118-8
7-8
Kent . . .
4663-6
432-8
9 3
Worcester. . .
1611-2
160 6
9 9
Lancaster .
2114-0
2438-2
ll-O
York ....
11368-8
1041-0
9-1
Leicester . . .
1588-2
153-4
9-6
North Wales . .
970 8
61-2
5-2
Lincoln . . .
-2489-0
203-0
8-1
South Wales . .
2363-2
126-4
5-3
Middlesex. . .
Monmouth . •
2556-2
1085 0
4275-4
82-4
13-1
7-6
Total forEngland)
and Wales . j
143769-8
16008-2
11-1
.Arranging, then, the counties in their order, according as the per centage of juvenile offenders is either
above or below the general average for the whole eountry, we have the subjoined result :—
Counties in which the Proportion of Juvenile Prisoners is Above the Average.
Northumberland
. 16-3
Norfolk . . .
14-0
Gloucester
. 11-9
Essex . . .
. 11-3
Somerset
. 15-2
Warwick
13-8
Sussex . .
. 11-5
Cumberland
. 11-3
Surrey .
. 14-6
Middlesex . . .
13-1
Counties in which the Proportion of Jwoenile Prisoners is Beloxo the
Average.
Lancaster . .
. 11-0
Cornwall
9-9
Shropshire .
. 8-5
Northampton .
. 7-2
Chester .
10 8
Worcester . . .
9-9
Suffolk . .
8-4
Hereford . .
. 6-6
Dorset . . .
. 10-8
Leicester . . .
9-6
Stafford . .
. 8-2
Huntingdon
. 6-4
Southampton .
. 10-7
Derby ....
9-6
Hertford
8-1
Westmoreland .
. 6 2
Rutland . . .
. 10-5
Kent ....
9-3
Lincoln . .
. 8-1
Durham . . .
. 6-1
Berks . . .
. 10-4
Bucks ....
9-1
Oxford . .
. 7-9
Bedford . .
5-5
Notts ....
10-2
York ...
9-1
Wilts . . .
7-8
South Wales .
. 6 3
Devon . . .
. 10-0
Cambridge . .
8-5
Monmouth .
. 7-6
North Wales .
. 5 2
Average for all England
and Wales
. . . 11-1
Hence we perceive that those counties in which the large towns are situate furnish the greater propor¬
tion of young criminals; for, whej-eas there is upon an average but 11 juvenile offenders in every 100
prisoners throughout England and Wales, Northumberland (in which the town of Newcastle is situate) has
BIKD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE SURREY HOUSE OF CORRECTION AT WANDSWORTH.
PUMP-ROOM AT WANDSWORTH PRISON.
(Fiom a Photograph by Herbert Watklne, 1Ï9, Regent Street.)
HOUSE OF COREECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
40á
We know of no sight in London so terribly pathetic—if not tragic—as this same oakum-
room, at the boys' prison at Westminster. We envy not the man who can enter a jail with
the same light heart as he goes to a theatre. To behold large numbers of men-, or even
women-, felons—dense masses of wild passions, as it were, gathered together under one
roof, such as one sees either working, like so many spectres, in the large rooms at Coldbath
Fields, or praying with one voice in the chapels of the convict prisons, or sleeping in their
hammocks between the decks at the Hulks—^is a scene that always stirs the heart and brain
with thonghts too deep for utterance. The ordinary citizen knows crime only as an ex-
no leas than 16 in the 100 ; while Somerset, of which Bristol is the chief town, yields 15 in the 100. Again,
Surrey, from its connection with the Metropolis, Norfolk (of which Norwich is an integrant part), and War¬
wick (to which Birmingham belongs), and Middlesex (London), and Gloucester (the city of Gloucester), all
return from 14i to 12 young "jail-birds" to each century of prisoners. So, too, Lancaster (the seat of
Liverpool and Manchester) and Chester show so large a per centage, as to be only just hdouo the average;
whilst the more primitive districts of Westmoreland and Durham, and the various parts of North and South
Wales, give only between 5 and 6 per cent, of youthful delinquents.
As regards the Metropolis itself, the annexed table (which has been kindly furnished to us by one of the
Middlesex magistrates) shows that 41 per cent, of the boys confined in Tothill Fields prison are sent from
the Great Marlborough Street police-ofldce, and 24 per cent, from Bow Street ditto ; whilst the districts of
Clerkenwell and Marylebone supply only 8 per cent, respectively, and Westminster and the Thames police-
office each nearly 5^ per cent. ; making altogether about 94^ in every 100 young criminals sent by the
metropolitan districts, and leaving only about 5J for those coming from the rural districts of the county of
Middlesex. Of the latter, again, it wUl be seen that Hammersmith furnishes by far the greater proportion.
Then follows tJxbridge, then Brentford, Barnet, and Twickenham ; whilst Hounslow, Highgate, Tottenham,
Enfield, and Soutball contribute none to the returns, which, it should be remembered, have in aB instances
been made to comprise a series of years.
TABLE SHOWING THE PLACES PHOM WHICH THE BOY-PRISONERS AT TOTHILL FIELDS WERE COMMITTED
DURING THE YEARS ENDING 1852-54.
1852.
1853.
1854.
Total.
Mean.
Per
Under
12 and
Under
12 and
Under
12 and
centage.
12 years
under
12.
under
12.
under
of age.
14.
14.
14.
Metropolitan District»—
Great Marlborough Street . ,
5
13
22
22
14
19
95
31
41-9
Bow Street
4
27
8
9
3
5
56
18
24-3
Clerkenwell
2
3
2
3
—
7
17
6
81
Marylebone
—
—
2
5
6
5
17
6
81
W estminster .
1
6
1
2
2
1
13
4
5-4
Thames Police-court . . . .
—
—
1
7
1
2
11
4
5-4
Worship Street
—
—
—
1
1
—
2
1
13
Total Metropolitan
12
49
36
49
26
39
211
70
94-6
Rwal Districts—
Hammersmith
—
1
—
—
3
3
7
2
2-7
Uxbridge
—
—
—
1
—
1
2
1
1-3
Brentford . .
1
1
—
—
Bamet
—
—
—
—
1
—
1
Twickenham
—
—
—
—
—
1
1
—
Hounslow
—
—
Highgate
-T
—
—
—
—
—
—
—
—
Tottenham
—
—
—
—
—
—
—
—
Enfield
—
Southall
—
—
—
»
—
—
—
—
Total Rural
—
1
—
1
4
6
12
4
6-4
Grand Total Metropolitan and Rural.
12
50
36
50
30
45
223
74
100-
406
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
ceptional thing—he heare or reads of merely individml instances, and has never been accus¬
tomed to think of it, much more to look upon it in the mass ; so that the first sight of a
large concourse of thieves, and murderers, and cheats fills him with entirely new impressions.
Crime seems then to be as much a part of the organization of society as even religion itself ;
and soon there follows the inquiry—^Must such things always be ? Though we get rid of
some two thousand old criminals every year, will there ever be some two thousand young
ones ready to spring into their place ?*
The answer to the question is to be found only in such places as we are now describing.
We have before spoken of convict-nurseries—of baby-felons, born and suckled in prison ; and
now we have to speak of felon-academies, where the young offender is duly trained and
educated for the Hulks. True, the place is called a house of correction; but, rightly
viewed, it is simply a criminal preparatory school, where students are qualified for matri¬
culating at MiUbank or Pentonville. Here we find little creatures of six years of age
branded with a felon's badge—boys, not even in their teens, clad in the prison dress, for the
heinous offence of throwing stones, or obstructing highways, or unlawfully knocking at
doors—crimes which the very magistrates themselves, who committed the youths, must
have assuredly perpetrated in their boyhood, and which, if equally visited, would consign
almost every child in the kingdom to a jail.
A table of the ages of the wretched little beings confined in TothUl Fields prison affords
a wondrous insight into the criminal history of the country. Between the years 1851 and
1855 there were upwards of 9,000 boys, under seventeen years of age, committed to the
House of Correction at Westminster. This gives an annual average of 1,800 and odd, and
of these, upwards of 1,500, or about 85^ per cent., were committed by the magistrates ;
whilst, of the number so committed, 945 were between fourteen and seventeen years of age.
* the annexed table shows the number of transports for a series of years»—
Years.
Total number
convicted
at Assizes and
Sessions.
Total number
of
Transports.
Proportion
per cent, of
Transports to
total number
Convicted.
Proportion
of Transports
per 100,000 gross
population of
England and
Wales.
Emgland and Walks ^
i
!
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
19,548
22,513
21,425
19,054
17,932
18,071
28,121
22,856
21,715
20,308
21,663
21,160
20,642
3,788
4,229
4,166
3,437
3,092
2,894
2,726
3,207
3,099
2,514
2,943
3,860
2,526
19-38
18-79
19-44
18-04
17-25
16-02
13-10
14-04
14-27
12-38
13-58
18-24
12-24
23-80
26-26
25-57
20-84
18-53
17-13
15-95
18-55
17-71
14-20
16-40
21-25
13-72
Annual mean . .
20,593
3,268
15-91
19-22
Hunce it would appear that the average number of transports is, in round numbers, about 3,250 per
annum, and this out of a total of 20,500 convicted, which is an average of about 16 per cent, of the gross
number found guilty, or very nearly 2 in every 10,000 of the whole population of the country. By a table
before given (see ante, p. 97), it was shown that the number actually transported during the twenty yeai-s from
1830 to 1850, yielded an average of 2,477 per annum. Of the transports, one-half, or 50-9 in every 100, are,
upon the average, sentenced to 7 and under 10 years' term; 31*7 to 10 and under 14 years; 3'5 to 14 and
under 15 years, 8'8 to 15 years and under 21 ; 0*9 to 21 years and upwards; and 4*3 for life.
HOÏÏSE OF CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
407
398 between twelve and fourteen, and 209 less than twelve; so that, out of every 100 boys
sent to this prison, it would appear that no less than 13j are mere children. The details
are given as imder :—
TABLE SHOWING THE AGES OF THE BOY-PRISONERS CONFINED IN THE WESTMINSTER HOUSE OP CORRECTION,
DURING THE YEARS ENDING MICHAELMAS, 1851—55, AS WELL AS THE AVERAGE NUMBER FOR ALL
ENGLAND AND WALES.
Summarily convicted.
Convicted at
SessioQS.
Total.
Under 12 years
of age.
12 and under
14.
14 and under
17.
Total.
1851 ....
1852 ....
1853 ....
1854 . . .
1855 ....
184
168
204
268
222
391
424
314
414
446
906
941
930
973
978
1,481
1,533
1,448
1,655
1,646
291
308
235
227
263
1,772
1,841
1,683
1,882
1,909
Total . .
Annual mean. .
Per centage . .
1,046
1,989
4,728
7,763
1,324
9,087
209
398
945
1,552
265
1,817
13-5
25-6
60-9
85-4
14-6
100
Annual mean of\
all England and
Wales for 1841-
51
Per rentage . .
856
1,697
4,926
7,479
2,560
10,039
11'4
22-7
63-9
74-5
25-5
100-0
Here we perceive that there are 10 per cent, more boys committed to prison by the
Middlesex magistrates than by those of the country generally ; and of those so committed,
the proportion of yoimg offenders, under 14 years, is considerably beyond that of all
England and "Wales.
Now, it is a principle of justice that all persons who are not of mne mind are legally
irresponsible for their acts ; and, surely, if the law itself allow that none are fit to be trusted
with the care of property, or the exercise of any political privilege, until they are 21
years of age—all below that term being legal " infants"—and if religion itself assert that
the young are incapable of sin until they have reached the years of discretion, it can be
neither just nor righteous to condemn, as felons, little things that are as imable to appre¬
ciate the principle of the rights of property as they are to comprehend the Divine Nature
itself.
The time is assuredly not far distant when our treatment of what are termed juvenile
offenders wiU be ranked in the same barbarous category with the manner in which we
formerly dealt with the insane and idiotic. If any doubt the truth of such a statement, let
them pay a visit to Tothill Fields prison, and see there young creatures, whose years even a
savage could reckon up, with half-military of&cers to watch over them, and immured in a
building whose walls are as thick as those of a fortress, and the gates as solid as the door to
an iron safe.
If it were not for the pathos of the place, we really believe this boys' prison would rank
as the great laughing-stock of the age ; for here one finds all the pompous paraphernalia of
Visiting Justices, and Governors, and Warders, with bunches of keys dangling from thick
chains, and strings of cutlasses hanging over the mantelpiece of the entrance-office—and all
408
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
to take care of the little desperate malefactors, not one of whom has cut his " wisdom teeth
whilst many are so young that they seem better fitted to be onveyed to the place in a per¬
ambulator, than in the lumbering and formidable prison van.
Still, the consequences of our wicked treatment of these poor children are too serious for
jesting. Suppose you or I, reader, had been consigned to such a place in our school-boy
days, for those acts of thoughtlessness which none but fanatics would think of regarding
as crime. Suppose we had had to spend fourteen days at picking oakum, in a prison, for
every runaway knock we had given, or every stone we had thrown, or even for every act of
petty dishonesty we had committed—what think you would have been the effect of such
treatment on our after-lives ? Had we been herded with young thieves in our youth, is it
likely we should ever have grown to be gentlemen ? Had the prison been stripped of its
terror and its shame in our chüdhood, do you think we should have lived to dread entering
it after we arrived at man's estate ?
Puritans should remember, moreover, that theft is a natwral propensity of the human
constitution, and honesty an artificial and edveated sentiment. We do not come into the
world with an instinctive sense of the rights of property implanted in our bosom, to teach
us to respect the possessions of others, but rather witíi an innate desire to appropriate what¬
ever we may fancy. It is only ly long training and scJwoling that we are made to see it is but
just that every one should enjoy that which he himself creates or earns, and it is this
developed idea of justice that serves, in after years, to keep our hands from picking and
stealing. On our return from TothiU Fields, we consulted with some of our friends as to
the various peccadilloes of their youth, and though each we asked had grown to be a man
of some Httle mark in the world, both for intellect and honour, they, one and aR, confessed
to having committed in their younger days many of the very " erimes" for which the boys at
Tothill Fields were incarcerated. For ourselves, we will frankly confess that at West¬
minster School, where we passed some seven years of our boyhood, such acts were daily
perpetrated ; and yet if the scholars had been sent to the House of Correction, instead of
Cambridge or Oxford, to complete their education, the country would now have seen many
of our playmates working among the convicts in the dock-yards, rather than lending dignity
to the senate or honour to the bench.
At the time of our visit to Tothill Fields, two incidents occurred which may serve to
give the reader some slight notion as to the evils of such places as the Westminster House
of Correction. Standing within the prison gateway was a man whose heavy boots were
yellow with dry clay, and whose plush waistcoat gave signs of his being either some
"navvy" or brickmaker. The man touched his fur-cap as we passed, and hoped we
would help him with a trifle to carry him and his boy (who was about to be liberated)
towards Enfield. The chüd was eight years old, we learnt ; his offence had been stealing
some half-dozen plums from an orchard—^his sentence fourteen days' imprisonment and a
flogging !
On another occasion, we requested permission of the Chairman of the Visiting Justices to
be allowed to have a sketch made of the serving of the breakfast in the large room of the
boys' prison. The answer was, that the magistrates thought it inexpedient to allow us to do
BO, for that in the other engravings we had already published the prison appeared by far too
comfortable to please their minds, and that if we could select any object of a deterrent
character we should be at liberty to engrave that.
The latter anecdote affords a striking instance of the defects of the present system,
especially when coupled with the former, for the two are as intimately conjoined as cause
and effect. In the one we see an over-disposition to make children, of almost tender years,
acquainted with the economy of a prison, and that even for faults of a comparatively trivial
character—or faults, at least, that need a teacher rather than a jailer to correct; whereas, in
the pther instance, we find the very magistrates themselves afraid of making known the
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, TOÏHTLL FIELDS.
409
internal regulations of the jail over which they preside. That there is nothing especially
terrible in the arrangements at Tothill Fields surely is no fault of ours ; and yet, though
the place is almost a paradise in comparison with the hovels to which the poor little inmates
have been generally accustomed, and the food positive luxury to their ordinary fare when
at liberty, stUl these same justices continue to consign little creatures to the prison, and that
often for offences which they know their own children commit day after day.
Our prisons (and more especially the correctional ones) are getting to be regarded as
refuges by a large proportion of our outcasts. We have before shown that at Coldbath
Fields the proportion recommitted is no less than 33 per cent, of the whole number of
prisoners. At Tothill Fields, however, the ratio is even higher, as wiU be seen by the
following :—
TABLS SHOWING THE NUMBER OP BOY-PRISONERS WHO HAVE BEEN PREVIOUSLY COMMITTED TO THE
WESTMINSTER HOUSE OP CORRECTION DURING THE YEARS ENDING MICHAELMAS, 1851-55.
Years, &c.
Previously Committed.
Total No.
of com¬
mittals.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Four times
and more.
Total No.
recom¬
mitted.
1851 ....
1852 . . .
1853 . . .
1854 . .
1855 ....
Total. . .
Annual mean
Per centage
364
361
330
316
342
128
184
183
154
208
54
80
97
97
82
152
257
253
341
266
698
882
863
908
898
1,772
1,841
1,683
1,882
1,909
1,713
857
410
1,269
4,249
9,087
342
171
82
254
849
1,817
18-8
9-4
4-5
140
46-7
100-
Here, then, we find, according to the returns of the last five years, that not one-third,
as at Coldbath Fields, nor one-fourth, as is the average for all the prisons of England and
Wales, hut very nearly one-half of the hoys at Tothill Fields are recommitted each yea/r, so that
the jail there, instead of being a place of terror and aversion to the young criminals, is really
made an asylum and a home by many of them. No wonder, then, that the magistrates
wished us to find out and depict some "deterrent" about the place. Justices, however,
have still to leam the great penal lesson, viz., to keep a person out of prison as long as
possible—to use the jaü as the very last resource of aU, and to understand that if it were
made a thousand times as terrible as it is, it would he even then far less awful in reality
than in imagination. The rule with the Middlesex magistrates, though, appears to be the
very reverse, viz., to thrust a lad into prison on the most trifiing occasion, and to fami¬
liarize him, even in his childhood, with scenes that he should be made acquainted with the
very last of all in his manhood. That government is the best, says the English axiom,
which governs the least—consistently with order and decency; and so we say again, that
penal discipbne is the most elficacious which punishes as little as possible—consistentiy
with justice and propriety.
The subjoined table shows the proportion of recommittals throughout England and
Wales, and it wiU be seen that the average ratio of prisoners recommitted barely exceeds
25 per cent., whereas it has been before shown that the proportion at TothiU Fields amounts
very nearly to 50 per cent.
At TothiU Fields, it wiU be observed, the proportion of prisoners once recommitted to
tliat prison is upwards of 7 per cent, in excess of that for the country generally; whilst of
410
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
those who are four times and more recommitted, there is the same excessive proportioa
likewise.
TABLE SHOWING THE TOTAL NUMBER OP PRISONERS, IN THE PRISONS OF ENGLAND AND WALES, WHO HAVE
BEEN ASCERTAINED TO HAVE BEEN RECOMMITTED, AS WELL AS THE PROPORTIONS PER CENT. OF EACH
CLi^S OF BECOMMrrXALS TO THE OBOSS FK180N POPULATION, FOB EACH YEAR F.BOM 1841 TO 18d3,
BOTH INCLUSIVE.
VSAflS.
Once recom¬
mitted.
Twice recom¬
mitted.
Thrice rccom
mitted.
Four times or
more recom¬
mitted.
Total of re¬
committals.
Total of cri¬
minal popula¬
tion.
1841.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
15,356
12-5
6,398
6-0
4,508
3-0
6,565
51
32,827
25-6
128,190
100-0
1842.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
16,792
12-1
6,826
4-9
3,491
2-5
6,753
4-8
33,862
24-3
139,388
100-0
1843.
Number of prisoners • . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
16,367
11-7
7,064
5-0
3,541
2-5
7,411
6-3
34,383
24-5
140,218
100-0
1844.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
16,781
11-5
6,849
5-0
3,661
2-7
8,440
6-2
34,731
25-4
136,558
1600
1845.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
14,324
11-3
6,496
5-1
3,729
2-9
8,564
6-8
33,113
261
126,794
100-0
1846.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
13,585
10-9
6,245
6-0
3,568
2-9
9,060
7-3
32,458
26-1
124,452
100-0
1847.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
14,417
10-9
6,419
4-9
3,347
2-5
8,742
6-6
32,925
24-9
131,191
1000
1848.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent . .
16,759
11-1
7,204
4-8
3,749
2-5
9,513
6-3
37,225
24-7
1.50,611
100-0
1849.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
1,857
11-6
7,792
4-9
3,945
2-5
9,932
6-3
39,826
26-3
157,273
100-0
1850.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
16,463
11-6
7,319
5-1
4,003
2-8
9,639
6-8
37,424
26-3
142,094
100«
1851.
Number of prisoners , . .
Proportion per cent. .
16,827
11-4
7,226
50
3,793
2-5
8,924
C-0
36,820
24-9
147,725
100-0 .
1852.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
15,427
11-0
6,596
4-7
3,620
2-6
8,953
6-4
34,596
247
139,688
100-0
1853.
Number of prisoners . . .
Proportion per cent. . . .
14,421
10-9
6,695
5-1
3,536
2-7
8,886
6-7
33,565
25-4
132,069
100 0
Annual mean number of 1
prisoners . ... J
Proportion per cent. . .
16,744
11-4
6,860
50
8,732
2-7
8,668
6-2
34,904
25-3
138,250
100-0
Proportion por cent, at)
Tothill Fields . . /
18*8
9-4
4-5
14*0
46 7
lOO'b
Í
ADULT SCHOOL IN THE CHAPEL, ON THE SEPARATE SYSTEM, AT THE SURREY
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, WANDSWORTH.
30
HOUSE OF COERECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
But the reader may desire facts rather than strictures upon such matters.
Let us deal, then, first with the class of Misdemeanants. Well, as we said, these are
clad in blue, and seated on one of the lower forms in the oakum-room. We questioned the
boys severally as to the ofifences for which they were imprisoned, and subjoin a list of
the answers, taken down in the presence of the chief warder.
" What are you here for, hoy ?" said we.
"Heaving a highster-shell through a street-lamp, please, sir," was the reply.
" He's been in here before three times," said the warder; " and very probably committed
the offence merely to get another month's shelter in the place."
"And you?" we asked, passing on to another.
" A woman said I hit her babby."
"And you?"
" Heaving clay." This one had been fourteen times in the same prison—" Mostly for
cadging, sir," interrupted the urchin ; " and only twice of them times for prigging." " He's
a young crossing-sweeper," said the warder, " and is generally to be seen about the West
End when he's out."
" Heaving stones," exclaimed another, as we moved towards him.
" Threatening to stab another boy, sir." " Four times in prison before," the officer added.
" Stealing a beU in a garden, please, sir."
"Heaving stones, sir."
" Heaving stones." In four times before.
" Heaving stones."
"Heaving stones."
Here, then, out of ten cases, there was only one of a malicious and two of a criminal
character ; whilst the majority were imprisoned for such offences as all boys commit, and
for which imprisonment among thieves is surely the worst possible remedy.
At a later part of the day we accompanied the warder to the airing-yard, to see the hoys
exercising. This was done much after the fashion of other prisons, the lads circling round
and round, and each walking some six or seven feet apart from those next him. There
were about forty boys altogether in the yard. " They exercise," said the warder, " in detach¬
ments, for about an hour each ; we keep them walking briskly, and in cold mornings we
make them move along in double quick time."
As the little troop paced over the flag-stones, their heavy prison hoots sounded very
differently from what their naked feet are wont to do when outside the prison gates ; and we
could tell, by their shuffling noise and limping gait, how little used many of them had been
to such a luxury as shoe leather. Then each boy had a small red cotton pocket-handkerchief
tied to the button-hole of his jacket (for no pockets are allowed in the prison garb), and we
could not help wondering how many of the forty young " offenders" there had ever before
known the use of such an article.
"While the lads kept on filing past us, the chief warder, at our request, called over the
number of times that those who had been recommitted had been previously in prison.
This he did merely by quoting to us the red figures stitched to the arm of the "known "
delinquents.
The following cyphers indicate the number of recommittals among the band :—4, 3, 2,
4, 2, 10, 3, 3, 10, 7, 6, 3, 4, 3, 4, 4, 2, 4, 6, 4, 3, 9, 2, 4, 2. Thus we see that, out of the
40 exercising in the yard, there were no less than 25 who had paid many previous visits to
the prison.
After this, one of the lads, who had been ten times recommitted, was called from out
of the ranks, and questioned as to his age and antecedents.
" How old are you, boy ?"
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDON
" Thirteen years, please, sir."
" What are you in for ?"
" Coat and umbereller, sir. This makes seven times here and three times at Coldbath
Fields, please, sir."
" How long have you got now ?"
" Three calendar months. This makes four times, please, sir, that I've had three calendar
months, and I've had two two-monthses as well—one of the two monthses here, and one at
Coldbath Fields; and I've done one six weeks, and one two days besides, sir. It's
mostly been for prigging," added the young urchin.
"What did you take?"
" I took a watch and chain once, sir, and a pair of goold bracelets another time. I did
a till twice, and this time it's for the coat and umbereller, as I told you on afore. The
two days I had was for a bottle of pickles, hut that there was three or four year ago."
" Oh, father's in a consumptive hospital down in the country," he went on, in answer
to our queries. " Mother's at home, and she lives in S Street, in the Gray's Tun Road."
" Why, I began thieving about four year ago, please, sir," he said, in answer to us.
" I went out with a butcher-boy. He's got four year penal servitude now."
"Did I ever go out to work? Oh yes, sir. I was at work at a brushmaker's for
about five months, and I've worked at Mr. Cubitt's in the Gray's Inn Road. I go out
with one boy when I go prigging. I went into the shop with a bit of a old seal to sell,
when I took the watch ; and I tried on the same dodge when I took the pair of goold
bracelets. Mother mends china and glass, please, sir. I don't mean to go out prigging
no more. Not if I can get any work, I won't."
This boy was a sharp-featured cunning-looking young vagabond, with a pucker at the
comers of his mouth, that showed (though his eyes were cast down in affected penitence)
that he was ready to break into laughter at the least breach of gravity. Indeed, he needed
but the man's body-coat with the tails dragging on the ground, and the trousers tied up
with string instead of braces, and bare muddy feet, to mark him as, one of the confirmed
young London thieves. Whether this was the result of innate vice, or owing to the want
of proper paternal care (his father, be it remembered, was in a consumption hospital,
whilst his mother went out mending china), we leave it for others to say. Assuredly, had
he been sent to a school for some few years, instead of to a prison for two days, when he
stole the bottle of pickles, there might have been some chance of reclaiming him ; but now the
task seemed almost hopeless. In a few years more he wiU, probably, be at one of the con¬
vict prisons, swelling the numbers of the old experienced offenders.
But do not let us judge by isolated instances.
Here is the case of another of the boys, whose red mark on the sleeve of his jacket
showed that he, too, had been ten times in prison before.
"Sixteen years of age, please, sir," said the lad, "and in for stealing a coat. I've
been at prigging about four year. I had one calendar month here for a pair of boots.
Then I stole a box of silver pencil-cases from a jeweller's shop. I bought an old aypenny
ring, and broke it up, and while the gennelman was looking at it to see whether it was goold
or not, I slipped the pencil-cases under my coat. I got four calendar months for that there,
sir. Then I was took for two bundles of cigars, and had one month here. After that I
was took for some meerschaum pipes, and had another month. I was took for a coat
besides, and got three calendar months in Coldbath Fields. I guv my age seventeen that
time, so as to get sent there. I guv it seventeen this time, too, but they was fly to it."
" Why would you rather go to Coldbath Fields?" we inquired.
" Oh, I'd choose anjrthing for a change, sir," was the characteristic and candid reply.
" Then I was sent to Holloway for tossing," went on the boy, " and had fourteen days
of it there. I don't know what I was took for the other time. Father's a hingineer.
HOUSE OP COERECTION, TOTHILL PIELOS.
413
and I aint got no mother, please, sir. I've been to work with father when I've come
out from my 'piisonments, hut I've soon cut it and gone thieving again. I've been
in a national school and a philanthropic over by Bedlam—^it's called the House of Occu¬
pation."
We next inquired as to what he intended to do when he regained his liberty once
more.
" Do ?" he answered, without the least fear, though the warder stood at his side, " why,
when I gets out here I shall go thieving again."
" But why?" we asked.
" Why I shall go thieving, cos I aint got no other way of gettin' a living."
" But won't your father keep you ?" said we.
" Oh ! father," echoed the boy in a tone of disrespect ; "he'U think he's got enough to do
to keep his-self."
" Would he turn you from his door then?" was our next question.
" Oh no, he wouldn't turn me out. He'd give me a lodging and ' vitÜes,' and if I got any
work he'd do all he could to help me ; but, you see, I don't like work, and I don't like being
at home neither. I seem to like thieving. Still if I got work this time, though I mightn't
like it at first, I'd try to keep to it."
This boy, unlike the other, had a frank and open countenance, and bore none of the
signs of London roguery impressed upon his features. Nevertheless, our experience among
this peculiar class of characters has taught us to place little or no reliance upon either
physiognomical or phrenological traits. Indeed we have often speculated in company with
the warders on such matters, and generally found that the prisoners whom we picked out as
the better class of characters were far from being so in the estimation of their jailers. There
is a natural disposition to believe that physical and moral beauty are some way connected—
though really they are conjoined only in the association of ideas, and there is no rational
cause why the best-looking should not be ill-natured, and even the deformed possessed of
the highest virtue. It must be admitted, however, that dwarves generally are not remarkable
for their kindness of heart, and that handsome people, on the other hand, are likely to grow
vicious from their personal vanity and craving for admiration.
But crime, we repeat, is an effect with which the shape of the head and the form of the
features appear (so far as our observation goes) to have no connection whatever—^indeed it
seems to us, in the majority of instances, to be the accident of parentage and organization.
Granted that a being of intense energy of character may be able to overcome the taint of
birth in a prison nursery, and that indonñtable wiU may rise superior even to convict
extraction. But with the general run of human beings the rule would seem to be, that a
felon father or mother generally begets a felon child, and that orphanage, either actual or
virtual, is usually attended with the same result among the very poor—^being bereft of
parents seeming to be equivalent in its moral effects to being bom of bad or too indulgent
ones. " Of the children," says Mr. Antrobus, in the Special Report of the Visiting Justices,
" a large proportion have either nominal stepfathers or stepmothers, fathers or mothers,
brothers or sisters, who have become criminal—^parents who are constantly in a state of
intoxication, or living surroimded by destitution and misery ; whilst very many are without
even a relation or a Mend." Again, we say the great mass of crime in this country is
committed by those who have been bred and bom to the business, and who make a regular
trade of it—^living as systematically by robbery or cheating as others do by commerce or the
exercise of intellectual or manual labour; and the records of the country show, when
duly analysed and systematised, that in every 10,000 of our population there are 15
criminals annually accused of some offence or other, whilst of these 15 not less than 12| am
charged with acts that those only could perform who had been regularly reared and educate!
to the " profession."
414
THE GEEAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
Here, for example, is a short conversation that we entered into with another lad, while
visiting this prison. The boy had a badge on his arm, that showed he had been as many as
fourteen times in prison, though he was certainly not that number of years old.
" Where do you live, lad?" said we to him.
" Ho. 21, S Street, Gray's Inn Lane," returned the youngster, as he looked with
a half-impudent leer up into our face.
" But that's where your father and mother live, isn't it ?" said the warder.
"Yes, father lives in S Street, and I lives in a lodging-house, in Charles Street,
Drury Lane," was the urchin's answer.
" Why don't you live with your father and mother ?"
" Cos father won't keep me unless I'm at work."
" But won't he let you stay with him till you get work ?"
" Ho, that he won't—not even when I go out here ; and that's why I go to the lodging-
house."
" Do you go thieving from that place ?" we asked.
" Yes ; I goes out thieving with other boys," was the imabashed reply of the young
vagabond. " Been fourteen times in prison," he added, smiling, as if proud of the fact,
when he saw us looking at the figures on his arm, in order to assure ourselves of the truth of
his numerous recommitments. " I have had three calendar months four times," he ran on,
" and one fourteen days, and I don't know how many two monthses and monthses besides."
" And when you leave this prison, you'll go out with the other boys thieving again, I
suppose ?" asked we.
" Ho, I aint a-going this time ; for I means to hook it, and go to sea."
At another part of the day we saw some eighteen more prisoners exercising in one of the
airing-yards, and'again, as the boys filed past us, we copied down in our note-book the red
figures on their sleeves, indicating the number of times they had, respectively, been recom¬
mitted to prison.
Here is the result :—10, 2, 4, 7, 7, 3, 6, 2, 14, 7, 12, 10, 2, 4.
Who, then, can doubt that our prisons are reaUy becoming refuges, or who can wonder at
the fact, when the late Chairman of the Visiting Justices teUs us that tibe parents of numbers
of the young prisoners live " surroimded by destitution and misery, and very many without
even a relation or a Mend? Under these circumstances," add the Justices themselves, in
their last Special Eeport, " it cannot be a matter of surprise that so many commit offences
which consign them to the prison especially, it should be said, when the prison is so muck
more comfortable than their own homes. How, it must not be imagined, from the latter
remark, that we believe our jails can be emptied by rendering them of a more deterrent
character—the experiment has been tried long ago, and found to be a disgraceful failure. It
is impossible, in the present age, with the advanced notions of society as to its duties even to
the criminal, to reduce the prison food, or the prison clothing, or the prison accommodation to
any sterner standard ; for the diet has been nicely calculated, and pared down to the precise
quantity suflicient to support hfe, and health, and strength, on the most economical prin¬
ciples ; the clothing, on the other hand, is merely such as is required to retain the warmth
of the hody, and the accommodation that only which is necessary for the prevention of
disease, by the too close crowding of the inmates ; nor can we ever again indulge in the
thumb-screws, or other barbarous tortures, by which our forefathers thought to goad men into
fancied rectitude. All such things, thank God, have passed away for ever, and those who
still uphold them are as much unfitted for the age in which they live, as ZadMel, the
astrologer, or the " table-turners," or " spirit-rappers," and the like.
There is hut one way to empty our prisons, and that is hy paying attention to the
outcast children of the land. Bo long as the State forgets its paternal duty, just so long
must it expect its offspring to grow up vicious and dishonest ; and it is simply for our
HOUSE OF COKEECTIOH, TOÏHILL FIELDS.
415
wicked neglect of the poor desolate and destitute little creatures about us, that our country-
swarms -with what are termed "the dangerous classes," and our people, tested by the national
records, appear to be more than sevenfold as criminal as our Catholic neighbours in France
and Belgium. For it is plain that the State ought to become the foster-father of the
wretched little orphans that now it leaves magistrates to thrust into jail, and it ought to
train them to habits of industry and rectitude, instead of allowing them to grow up utterly
unskilled in any form of honest labour, and, moreover, thoroughly ignorant of all rights and
duties, as well as being not only insensible to the dignities and virtues of life, hut positively
taught to believe that the admirable lies in all that is base and hideous.*
"We stiU considered it necessary, for the thorough elucidation of our subject to interro¬
gate each of the prisoners in the large work-room as to their age, the number of times they
had been in prison, and the offences for which they had been sentenced. The particulars
of our investigation are here subjoined :—
1st Prisoner,
14 years of age, 10 times in prison.
for picking pockets.
2nd
16
yy
4 „
stealing copper nails.
3rd
yy
16
yy
4 „
picking pockets.
4tli
yy
15
yy
2
yy yy
5th
yy
14
yy
16 „
area sneaking.
6th
yy
13
yy
2
picking pockets.
7th
yy
15
yy
4
stealing lead.
8th
yy
13
^y
2
stealing 4«. 6d. out of a till
9th
yy
13
yy
2 „
stealing lead.
10th
yy
14
yy
17
picking pockets.
11th
yy
11
yy
5 „
stealing silver tea-kettle.
12 th
yy
13
yy
3
picking pockets.
13th
yy
12
yy
3 „
yy yy
14th
yy
14
yy
5
stealing chickens.
15th
yy
14
yy
6 „
stealing a copper hoüer.
* We are, however, still of opinion that a great change for the better might he made in our prisons,
by ordering that the amovmt of food supplied should be made to depend upon the amount of work done.
This, we repeat, would serve not only to make the rule of life within a prison conform to that without the
walls, but to do away with the present refuge and asylum character of our jails—for surely a refuge is merely
a place that people fly to in order to obtain food, clothing, and shelter, without trouble or labour on their
part ; and this is precisely what obtains in our prisons of the present day. To do away with this anomaly,
it is necessary to make the provisions supplied to prisoners purchasable as they are in the world, by different
quantities of industry, and to supply gratuitously only the present punishment diet of bread and water.
Such, we hold, should be the rule in every jail throughout the kingdom ; but most especially in those
institutions which are set apart for the reception of yoimg offenders. The most dangerous lesson that a
boy-crimihal can possibly learn is, that food, shelter, and raiment are to be had within a prison for
nothing. Upon such a nature, more particularly, we should take especial pains to impress the high truth
that the necessities and luxuries of life are procurable only by industry ; and by showing him how he, by
his labour, can contribute to his own enjoyment, teach him at once the use and value of work. As it is,
however, the first lesson he learns inside a prison is that industry brings no reward, and that labour is at
once a punishment and a disgrace. To put an end to this absurd perversion of natural laws, all that is
required is that prisoners, on their entry into a jail (after conviction), should be placed in a punishment cell,
on punishment diet, and made to earn such creature comforts as the present regulations allow, by different
amounts of work for each article—a bed being purchasable by a certain quantity of labour, and a cup of
cocoa, or a dish of soup, by other quantities, according as the authorities might appraise them. As it is,
however, the natural order of things is precisely reversed—the food and bedding, and even better kind of
cell, are given to each prisoner as a right, and he is put to labour merely as an arbitrary punishment, and
that simply because it is a thing to which he has an inveterate aversion ; whilst the punishment diet and
the punishment cell are resorted to" merely as the means of intimidating him into conformitv to the
prison rules. That which is now the last resource, therefore, should be made the first expedient ; and if this
were the case, the refuge character of our prisons would no longer exist.
416
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
16th Prisoner,
10
years of age,
2 times in prison,
for stealing Ad.
17 th
11
10
yy
stealing pigeons.
18th ,,
12
> »
3
yy
stealing a coat.
19th
13
>>
5
yy
stealing lead.
20th
13
M
2
yy
picking pockets.
21st
12
M
5
yy
pawning a jacket.
22nd ,,
15
H
5
yy
stealing a jacket.
23rd
14
> )
4
yy
stealing 9s. from till.
24th ,,
10
M
1
yy
spinning a top !
25 th ,,
12
1
yy
stealing lead.
26 th
13
ty
3
yy
stealing ten bottles of wine.
27th
14
M
2
yy
stealing canvas.
28th
11
M
6
yy
spinning a top !
29th
13
3
yy
stealing brass. [tences.
30 th „
13
>>
1
yy
obtaining money under false pre-
3l8t ,,
14
3
yy
stealing brass and lead.
32nd ,,
5
>y
2
yy
stealing 5s. 9d. from tiU.
33rd ,,
13
))
1
yy
stealing jewelry and pencil-cases.
34th „
16
9f
1
yy
going into Kensington Gardens to
35th
14
y>
6
yy
stealing a guinea -pig. [sleep.*
36th
12
9i
2
yy
picking pockets.
37th
13
1
yy
suspicion.
38th
15
>}
5
yy
stealing silver plate.
39th
14
yy
3
yy
picking pockets.
40th
13
M
3
yy
stealing a watch and timepiece.
41st ,,
15
yy
8
yy
stealing brass.
42nd ,,
15
yy
4
yy
stealing meat.
43rd ,,
14
yy
11
yy
stealing some calico.
44th „
14
yy
2
yy
stealing carpet.
45 th „
13
yy
6
yy
picking pockets.
46th
14
yy
6
yy
yy yy
47th
14
yy
2
yy
yy yy
48 th
14
yy
9
yy
pulling down palings.
49 th ,,
12
yy
3
yy
stealing meat.
50th
13
yy
8
yy
stealing lead.
51st ,,
13
yy
2
yy
n ))
52nd ,,
15
yy
1
yy
)> 11
53rd „
12
yy
1
yy
stealing gold watch and chain.
54th
13
yy
7
yy
stealing moneyi from tiU.
55 th
18
yy
4
yy
picking pockets.
56 th
16
yy
1
yy
stealing beef.
57th
16
yy-
3
yy
stealing bacon.
58th
14
y y
4
yy
picking pockets.
59 th „
16
yy
10
yy
stealing ladies' mantles.
60 th
13
yy
3
yy
picking pockets.
61st ,,
13
yy
1
yy
)i »
62nd „
14
yy
7
yy
yy yy
63rd „
15
yy
2
yy
stealing a sUk gown.
64th „
16
yy
2
yy
stealing watch.
65th „
12
4
yy
stealing bread.
• This boy said bis father would not keep him. His sentence for the above heinow offence was one month
BIRD'S-EYE VIE'W OF THE HOUSE OF CORRECTION FOR THE CITY OF LONDON, HOLLOW AY.
ÛillItTiïÏÏiIiïll
OUTER. GATE AT THE CITY HOUSE OF CORRECTION, HOLLOWAY.
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS. 417
66tb Prisoner, 13 years of age, 6 times in prison, for housebreaking.
67th
M
15
yy
4
picking ppckets.
68th
9f
11
yy
1
begging.
69th
ff
13
yy
3
stealing 2«. 6d.
70th
yf
11
yy
1
InlUng; a. dog.
71st
yy
16
yy
1
highway-robbery of watch.
72nd
yy
13
yy
1
picking pockets.
73rd
yy
15
yy
1
stealing a watch.
74th
yy
16
yy
7
picking pockets.
75th
yy
14
yy
6
» >>
76th
yy
13
yy
3
stealing two caps.
77th
yy
14
yy
2
highway-robbery of a watch.
78th
yy
14
yy
2
stealing coals.
79th
yy
14
yy
1
picking pockets.
80th
yy
10
yy
2
» >>
81st
yy
10
yy
2
stealing brass.
82nd
yy
11
yy
1
picking pockets.
83rd
yy
15
yy
2
stealing boots.
84th
yy
16
yy
1
picking pockets.
85th
yy
14
yy
3
yy yy
86th
yy
12
yy
6
yy yy
87th
yy
16
yy
3
stealing a coat.
88th
yy
15
yy
11
picking pockets.
89th
yy
15
yy
3
yy yy
90th
yy
16
yy
1
stealing 1«. from tUl.
91st
yy
13
yy
2
stealing sack of white rags.
92nd
yy
15
yy
4
stealing candied lemon-peel.
93rd
yy
16
yy
1
stealing lead.
94th
yy
10
yy
1
stealing seven razors.
95th
yy
15
yy
7
picking pockets.
96th
yy
14
yy
1
stealing a coat.
97th
yy
14
yy
2
stealing lead.
98th
yy
15
yy
2
yy yy
99th
yy
15
yy
2
stealing 9s. 6d. from employer.
100th
yy
16
yy
4
stealing 4 pigeons.
101st
yy
16
yy
2
stealing lead.
102nd
y y
14
yy
7
picking pockets.
103rd
yy
16
yy
5
stealing cigars.
104th
yy
14
yy
2
stealing bread.*
105th
yy
15
yy
5
stealing copper.
106th
yy
14
yy
5
stealing cigars and pipes.
107th
yy
16
yy
1
stealing £2 16s. from employer.
108th
yy
16
yy
9
picking pockets.
109th
yy
14
yy
4
yy yy
110th
yy
14
yy
2
yy yy
111th
yy
15
yy
1
stealing sack of oats and beans.
112th
yy
14
yy
10
stealing lead.
113th
yy
16
yy
4
picking pockets.
114th
yy
16
yy
1
» »>
115th
yy
15
yy
2
suspicion.
• This, the boy confessed, was not from want ; he intended to sell it.
41b
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
116 thPioner, 13 years of age,
5 times in
prison,
for picking pockets.
117th
13
>>
2
fi
suspicion.
118th
16
1»
1
stealing £2 from employer.
119th
16
2
stealing four silk handkerchiefs.
120 th
14
if
2
if
getting over a wall !
12l8t
16
fi
2
picking pockets.
122nd
14
ff
1
stealing brass.
123rd
15
ff
8
stealing 9s. &d, from a tiU.
124th
16
>>
2
taking sweepings of a barge of coals.
125th
15
)>
9
picking pockets.
126th
16
ff
3
if
ff if
127th
16
ff
4
if
stealing £2 88. from a till.
128 th
14
J)
9
ff
picking pockets.
129th
16
ff
13
stealing lead.
130th
16
ff
1
ff if
131st
16
ff
1
ff
stealing some cotton print.
132nd
13
ff
1
stealing 38. from employer.
133rd
16
if
4
ff
stealing cigars.
134th
15
ft
2
stealing candied lemon-peel.
135th
14
ft
3
ff
stealing cigars.
136 th
14.
ff
5
picking pockets.
137th
14
ff
3
if
ff »•
138th
16
ff
2
ff if
139th
15
ff
5
if
ft ff
140th
15
ff
1
if
ft a
141st
14
ff
3
ff i*
142nd
16
ff
5
if if
143rd
16
ft
3
ft if
144th
15
ff
5
fi
stealing coat.
145th
12
If
2
stealing brass.
146 th
13
ff
1
ff
stealing books.
147th
16
ff
1
ff
stealing chair.
148 th
14
ff
6
if
picking pockets
149th
17
ff
1
ff
leaving his ship.
150 th
16
ff
4
ff
stealing from a tül.
151st
16
ft
2
ff
stealing quarter of a sheep.
152nd
15
ff
3
ff
picking pockets.
153rd
13
ff
4
ff
ft it
154th
16
ft
3
stealing meat.
155th
16
ff
7
picking pockets.
156th
14
ff
3
stealing cigars. [employer.
157th
16
ff
1
stealing two felt hats and a cap from
158th
16
ff
1
stealing 48. Id. from master.
159 th
15
ff
6
stealing lead.
leo^h
16
ff
1
stealing some com.
16lBt
16
ff
9
stealing some cotton print.
162nd
16
ff
3
ft
stealing cigars.
163rd
16
ff
2
ft
burglary, with two other boys.
164th
14
ff
2
ff
stealing some jackets.
165 th
16
ff
11
picking pockets.
I66th
16
fi
1
ff
stealing from a till.
HOUSE GE COUREOTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
419
167th Prisoner,
15 years of age, 1 times in prison, for stealing 10 bottles of wine.
168th „
14
t9
4
99
picking pockets. [in it.*
169th „
16
>}
1
99
taking a lady's reticule, with £2 15«.
170th „
16
9f
4
99
picking pockets.
171st „
14
}>
3
99
stealing 18«. 6d. from a till.
172nd „
16
>f
4
99
stealing a coat.
173rd „
16
99
1
99
robbing master of £4.
174th „
15
99
3
99
picking pockets.
175th „
18t
99
1
99
stealing tools.
176th „
13
99
3
99
stealing some oil-cloth.
177th
11
99
1
99
stealing gold rings.
178th „
14
99
5
99
stealing some walnuts from market.
179th „
16
99
1
> 99
picking pockets.
180th
15
99
2
99
99 99
181st
16
99
1
99
stealing shoe-brushes.
182ùd ,,
16
99
6
99
stealing a watch.
183rd
14
99
3
99
picking pockets.
184th „
13
99
1
99
stealing £1 7s. from employer.
185th „
15
99
9
99
picking pockets.
186th „
16
99
1
99
99 99
187th
15
99
3
99
99 99
188th „
16
99
7
99
stealing a pair of boots.
189th
13
99
10
99
stealing coat and umbrella.
190th
15
99
5
99
stealing £2 15«. from a till.
lOlst
16
99
1
99
robbing master of 10|<?.
192nd „
14
99
1
99
picking pockets.
193rd „
16
99
2
99
stealing a watch.
194th „
15
99
2
99
picking pockets.
Besides these, there were others in the long-room, whose ages and number of times of
imprisonment we omitted to take down, and who were confined for the following offences;—
Stealing 2¿., stealing a watch, ditto some lead, ditto bread, ditto some cloth, picking
pockets, stealing 4s. from a till, stealing some carpet, picking pockets, hreaking a window !
stealing a bit of soap, ditto a scrubbing-brush, going into offices with his mother's keys,
picking pockets, taking some stonemason's tools, stealing some gratings, picking pockets,
stealing some lead, ditto ditto, taking a waistcoat, ditto a pair of boots, ditto £1 from his
father.
Of the misdemeanants, the fines for the non-payment of which they had been sent to
prison were as under :—
One had been sentenced to pay 10«., or suffer 14 days' imprisonment, for "heaving
stones."
Another, to pay £1, or undergo the same imprisonment, for the same offence.
Another had had the same penalty imposed, or the same term of imprisonment, for a
like breach of the law.
"Whereas a fourth had been fined £2, or one mont^, for a Rimilar " arime."
A fifth had had 5s. fine or seven days imposed upon him for " heaving clay about," as
he called it.
Whilst a sixth had been fined £2, or one month's imprisonment, for breaking a street
^amp.
• Boy said he pulled it forcibly from the lady's arm.
*■ This prisoner had given his age at 17, so as to be sent to Tothill Fields.
420
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
Now the conclusions to be drawn ftom the above list appear to us to be—
1. That the greater proportion of the boys confined in Totbill Fields prison are there for
picking pockets—^indeed as many as 66 in 194 (or rather more than one-third of the whole)
are in prison for this offenes ; and that most of these, young as they are, are old " jail-Unla,"
some of them having been a greater number of times in prison than they are years old. 0»«,
for instance, whose age was but 14, confessed to having been committed no less than 17
times. Whilst others, though but 10 years of age, had already been more than once recom¬
mitted for the same crime.
2. Next to the picking of pockets, the purloining of metal constitutes the largest propor¬
tion of the offences committed by the yoimg, there being about 12 in every 100 of the boy-
prisoners sentenced for this crime ; and these, again, are mostly all habitual offenders, the
majority having been several times recommitted.
3. Some few of the boys are imprisoned foi serious crimes. Some for burglary, for
instance, others for housebreaking, and others for highway robbery of watches ; whilst others,
again, though less daring, have been concerned in the purloining of silver tea-kettles, of jewelry,
and pencürcases, and silver plate, and watches, and timepieces, and gold chains, and rings,
and ladies' reticules, &c.
4. Many of the other offences belong to the class perpetrated by those who are expres¬
sively termed "sneaks." These consist of what is styled the "frisking of tills," the
pilfering of meat, bread, wine, coats, umbrellas, boots, cigars, chickens, pigeons, guinea-pigs,
sacks of rags, oats, beans, coals from barges, and indeed anything that the urchins can lay
their hands upon.
5. In addition to these there is still a small class of boys confined for the robbery of
their employers, the amounts taken ranging from lOfí?. up to £2 odd; but these, on the
other hand, are mostly inexperienced offenders, and belong to a class who at least have been
engaged in some industrial occupation, and who should be in no way confounded with the
yoimg habitual thieves.
6. Further, there is a considerable number who are confined for offences that not even
the sternest-minded can rank as crime, and for which the committal to a felon's prison eau
but be regarded by every righteous mind, not only as an infamy to the magistrate concerned,
but even as a scandal to the nation which permits the law-ofidcers of the country so far to
outrage justice and decency. To this class of offences belong the spinning of tops, the
breaking of windows, the "heaving" of stones, the sleeping in Kensington Gardens,
getting over walls, and such like misdemeanours, for many of which we see, by the above
Ust, that the lads were suffering their first imprisonment.
Now, the latter conclusion serves to show that juvenile crime is not always begotten by
bad or no parental care, but springs frequently from a savage love of consigning people to
prison for faults that cannot even be classed as immoral, much less criminal.
If Ü—8.
Of the Boys' Wbrh at TotMU Fields.
The labour performed at this prison consists of almost the same forms as those we have
already described at Coldbath Fields, and the convict institutions of the Metropolis. Oakum-
picking constitutes, as usual, the greater proportion of the work, though the amount earned
by the prisoners at such an occupation yields barely £1 per head per annum, whilst the cost
HOUSE GE OOERECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
421
of maintenance, clothing, &c., is more than seven times as much. There are also certain
gangs put to tailoring and shoemaking, and some two or three individuals to carpentry,
whilst a few are employed in gardening.
In all the forms of work, however, the vital defect is, that the lahour is enforced as a
matter of punishment rather than as the means of educating the young prisoners in some
handicraft, or, indeed, inculcating in them the love of honest exertions. Of industrial
training there is not a shadow, nor, to do the authorities justice, the least pretence. In
fact, we much question if any of the worthies who are entrusted with the care of these
wretched little outcasts ever puzzled their brains as to how habits are formed at any time, or
speculated on that wondrous function of the human machinery which, after a time, transforms
those acts of volition which require a special effort, and are consequently more or less
irksome to perform at first, into acts of an automatic character, which become at length,
rather than being irksome to do, irksome to leave undone—and that merely by being
repeated at regula/r and frequent intervals.
Again, all persons affecting the least phüospphy know that the highest worldly
lesson, perhaps, a being can be taught, is that of self-reliance—^to have faith in his
own powers to contribute to his own happiness, and to know and feel that he exists in
an atmosphere of circumstances which are fraught with the keenest misery to the
indolent, but which the Almighty has given us, one and all, more or less, the faculty to
mould to our own enjoyment and comjbrt, if we have but the will and the determination to
do so. The wretched children, however, at TothiU Fields are stiU allowed to grow up
with the notion deep-rooted in their brain, that the best and easiest means of obtaining the
objects of their desires is either to appropriate, or beg for, the property of others, and to
regard labour as a scourge and a punishment, rather than the safest and readiest means of
contributing to their pleasures. True, the children are duly taught to speU and to write,
and to chatter catechisms and creeds that they cannot understand. The State, however, we
hold, has more to do with the formation of good citizens than good Christians. The office of
an enlightened and liberal Government is to see that each man does his duty to his neighbour ;
nor has it any right to meddle with the duty individuals owe to God, for grant the contrary,
and it is possible to justify aU those religious tyrannies and persecutions from which every
true Protestant thinks it the great glory of the age to have escaped.
Now, we do not hesitate to confess that there is in all prisons a great deal too much care
for the happiness of a being in the future world, and too little for his happiness in the
present ; in a word, we believe there is too much faith placed in the influence of the chaplain,
and too little in the knowledge of the physician (using the word in its comprehensive
German sense). No man desires more devoutly to see the world Christianized than ourselves
—^none wishes more ardently to behold the day when religion shall become a deep abiding
presence in the soul, and the perfection of the Divine Nature be the true standard of excel¬
lence to which all men shall endeavour to shape their actions. But none, at the same time,
can have a deeper loathing and contempt for those outward shows of godliness—^those con¬
tinued " lip-services"—the everlasting " praying in public places," which the revelation of
our every-day's commercial and prison history teaches us to believe constitute the flagrant
"shams" of the age. The same social vice that leads would-be saintly and really
fraudulent bankers to ride to their counting-houses in public omnibuses with the Bible on
their knees, leads even thieves, both old and young, to affect puritanical forms of godliness,
viz., with the view of obtaining credit with man rather than their Maker ; and though some
little good, certainly, has been done towards abating the amount of hypocrisy in prisons, by the
abandonment of the " penitentiary system," as it was called, nevertheless, tül mpTi have the
couri^e to speak honestly upon these matters, we fear there is little hope of doing much
good with our criminals.
What is wanted (and the defect is nowhere so apparent as at this same TothiU Fields
422
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDOH.
prison) is really good, sound, wholesome, labour training—the education of decent and
industrious habits, and the practical inculcation, above aU things, of the value and dignity
of work. At the "Westminster House of Correction,. however, industry brings no reward ;
the 1 or 2 lbs. of oakum are picked, the prison shoes are mended, the clothes made, or the
ground tiUed, by the boys, without any positive good accruing from the work. And yet
these poor lads require more than any in the land to be taught the very opposite lesson.
Suppose, now, the governor, the warders, and even the chaplain himself, were to he expected
to do their prison offices for nothing. How long, think you, would they remain at their post,
or how long would they continue even honest, when they found their labours unrequited ?
Nevertheless, it is not quite so easy to practice any regular system of industrial educa¬
tion in our prisons at the present time. The magistrates stül delight to send lads to jail
merely for a few days, just to let them see, as it were, how different a place it is from their
own home; for it wiU be found, from the subjoined table, that one-fourth, or 24-8 per cent.,
of the entire number of prisoners passing through the Westminster House of Correction are
committed for less than 14 days! whilst the average sentence for the whole of the 1,800
and odd hoys sent there is not more than three months. The particulars will be found
below.*
Of course it is idle to expect that any impression can he made upon a young offender
in so short a period, other than the teaching him that there is a comfortable house and good
food always ready for him at Westminster, and for which the terms of admission are merely
throwing an oyster-shell through one of the street lamps.
But let us proceed to describe what we saw and leamt in the shoemakers' and tailors'
room at this prison.
These workshops are both situate on the first fioor of the wing styled No. 8 prison, and
each consists of a room hardly larger than a suburban parlour, and which has been formed
by knocking three of the ordinary cells into one. The walls are whitewashed, the roof
vaulted, and the fioor paved with bricks.
Around the shoemakers' shop shelves are ranged ; and upon these we found bundles of new
shoes in quires, as it were, with the heel of one thrust into the other, and crowds of heavy,
lumpish-looking lasts ; whilst in one comer were bags of women's old shoes waiting to be
• TAKLE SHOWING THE TERMS OP IMPRISONMENT OP THE BOYS CONFINED IN TOTHILL FIELDS PRISON
DURING THE YEARS ENDING 1861-05.
Terms of Imprisonment.
1861.
1862.
1863.
1854.
1866.
Annual
Mean.
Per eentage
to total
Committals.
Under 14 days
14 days and under 1 monffi. .
1 month and under 2 months .
2 months and under 3 . . .
3 months and under 6 . . .
6 months and under 1 year . .
1 year and above . .' . .
623
382
424
137
220
175
32
463
327
429
156
261
146
26
423
302
376
166
268
98
47
483
329
417
204
309
49
63
360
272
494
241
337
128
64
461
322
428
178
276
119
44
24-8
17-7
23-6
9-8
161
6-6
2-4
2bía¿ Committah . . . .
1,893
1,796
1,658
1,844
1,896
1,817
1000
By the above table it will be seen, that the magistrates of late years have shown a commendable tendency
to deeftate the imprisonments under 1 month, and to ineretm those above it. Thus, in the year 1861, the
number of imprisonments for the former term amounted to 906, whilst in 1866 they were only 632, though
the gross number of committals was nearly the same in bpth years. The number of longer imprisonments,
however, was 986 in 1861, and 1,264 in 1866 ; so that, as the Special Beport states, though the prison
seemed to be fuller in the latter year, the increased number of inmates arose from " the lengthened term for
which they were committed."
TIÍEAD-WIÍEEL AND OAKUÄI SUED AT THE CITY PRISON, IIOELOWAY.
(WITH A riETAfHMENT OF I'RISONKKS AT WORK ON THE WHICICI,, AND THOSE ;VIIO HAVE lilOEN RKMEVEI) EMI'LOYED RICKING OAKUM.)
HOrSE or COERECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
423
repaired, and baskets full of pieces and rolls of leather. At a desk stood the presiding
warder, surrounded with tools that reminded one of small cheese-cutters; whilst the air
was as redolent of cobbler's-wax as the oakum-room we had just left was of tar. Across
the shop the boys were ranged on small benches, and each with a "kit," or open tray, at his
side ; whilst a gas-pipe, that burnt dimly in the daylight, rose straight up out of the bricken
floor, and stood close at the elbow of the workers, each of whom was half-encased in a
leather apron, like so many young draymen.
" Take off your caps, boys, and cease that hammering," cries the warder, as we enter.
"This is our monthly book of the work done," continues the officer, pointing to a long,
thin volume that lies open on the desk. " We do mostly repairs, and those figures you see here
represent the quantity mended in the course of the month. There's 507 pairs, you see, mended
in January last, 385 in February, 367 in March, 490 in April, 426 in May, 497 in June ; and,
besides this, we made 5 new pairs of shoes in January, 8 in February, 12 in March, 13 in April,
3 in May, and the same number in June; and that with 13 boys employed in the shop."
(This gives an average of about 71 pairs made in the course of each month, and upwards of
445 pairs mended in the same time, which is at the rate of not quite 9 pairs mended by
each hand during the week.) "We can't estimate their labour at much, sir," the man went
on, " because they are all young hands. Here's the account, you see, for the week ending
the 7th of June. The earnings of the 13 boys for that week are valued at £2 4s."
We then proceeded to inquire as to the mode in which the labour was estimated.
"Now, a job like that," said the warder, "which is what we call half-soling, we reckon
at 5d. the pair ; it's only done in a rough way, you see, and the time it will take a boy depends
upon the time he has been learning. A new hand, with even my assistance, will be a couple
of days over it ; but if he has been a bit at the work, he'll do it in a day. We have the lads,
however, for such short terms, that we cannot get them to be ready at the business. I estimate
the work by the job or piece. Half-heeHng, like that, I should put down \d. for. In the week
ending the 14th of June, the boys earned £2 Is. 4(7. ; in the week ending the 21st, £2 4s., and
in that ending the 28th, £2 3s. 4íí." (This makes the month's earnings amount to £8 12s. 8d.,
which is at the rate of rather more than 3s. 3d. a-week, or £8 12s. per annum for each hand ;
so that, at this rate, each of the young prisoners would be more than self-supporting.)
In the book of the work done, there were remarks attached to the name of each hoy ;
and here seven were entered as having "improved," three as "not improved," two were
said to be " learning," and against the name of the other was written, " can close a little."
In the next week nine were entered as having " improved," and only two as having " not
improved," whilst the remaining two were said to be " learning to repair."
The next point of inquiry was, how long the lads continued under the instruction of the
officer. The warder referred to his book and said, as he came to the names of the different
hoys, as foUows :—
" Now, there's that boy, C , I had him about six months. Then John B , there
he's gone to the school at Eedhill—I had him for about two months. Here's a boy named
E , I had him only for about three weeks ; and this boy, L , I had for about five
weeks, as near as I can teU. Sometimes I don't keep them for more than a week, they get
into trouble, are put into the cells, and so are constantly on the change."
We now proceeded to interrogate the lads employed as to their ages. Nine of them said
they were 16, one was 15, another 14, and the other two 13 years old.
The first hoy we questioned said that "he had never done any work before he came
to the prison. He had been at shoemaking three months." He confessed he was reaUy
18 years of age, but had said he was 16 in order to get sent to this prison. He had stolen
some tools, and was never in prison before. His sentence was eight calendar months.
He had never been put to any trade. Had no father—only a stepfather. Had been at
shoemaking in the prison about three months.
3P
424
THE GEEAT WOHLD OF LONDON.
The second boy had been learning the business for only a week. Ho had never been in
any prison before, and was there for stealing £4 from his master. Had been an errand-boy
at a greengrocer's shop. His sentence was nine calendar months.
The third boy appeared ßale and sickly. He had stolen a piece of oü-cloth, and was
sentenced to two calendar months ; he had been in prison thrice before ; had both father
and mother, and had worked as a shoemaker outside.
A fourth boy had been twice in Tothill Fields, and once in Maidstone ; he had taken
18s. 6cl., with two other boys, out of a shop-till. Had got three calendar months. Used to
work at shoemaking, along with his father. His mother was living, too.
The father of the fifth was also a shoemaker; "but," said the lad, "he never taught
me." This lad was in prison for stealing a half-quartern loaf. " Me and two more took it,"
were his words ; "we didn't want it, we meant to sell it." He had been three times in this
prison, and once in Wandsworth.
The sixth boy had a stepmother, who treated him badly. He had stolen £2 8s. from a
man at a public-house where he lodged, and had got four years' penal servitude- Had been
in prison five times before. Was waiting for an order to go to Eedhül. Was a stonemason
by trade.
The next prisoner had a stepmother also, but she treated him well. He was a coster-
monger by trade, and was in for two pairs of boots, which he had taken from a shop door.
He had got eight months' sentence, and had been recomndtted half a dozen times.
The lad next the last- mentioned looked ill ; he was a bootmaker by trade, and had both
father and mother Kving. He was in for stealing some shoe-brushes; there were three more
boys in with him. He had got three calendar months, and had been twice recommitted.
Another lad confessed himself a pickpocket. He said he went out regularly with a
"school" of boys. "He u.sed to get hankychers, and purses sometimes." Had been in
twice before, and had got three months. Was a " hawk-boy," he said, at the plasterers'
trade. His mother was alive, but he had no father.
Another stated that he "thieved a gold watch;" he had "screwed it," he said; and one
other boy was with him. He had got three months for it. Was never in Tothill Fields before,
but was twice at the House of Detention. Had both father and mother living.
The next was in for stealing four silk handkerchiefs out of a window, and had got six
calendar months. He was of no trade, and had both father and mother.
One of the two remaining lads was a shoemaker outdde. He was in for stealing 3s. from
his master's till. Was never in prison before, and had got four calendar months. Father
and mother both alive.
The other, and the last, boy was no trade. He had been sentenced to two years' imprison¬
ment for picking a woman's pocket of 10«. "He went out regularly with a gang of ether
boys," he said. Had been six times in Tothill Fields, twice in Wandsworth, and once in
Chelmsford. His father was a bricklayer's labourer, and had been a soldier. He had never
sent him to school, or put him to any trade.
This completed the history of the several lads employed ; but, before leaving, we were
further informed that the shoemaking work was done only for the prison. New shoes are
valued at 2s. 4d. the pair for making, closing and all.
We also learnt here that it is not usual to keep " two years' boys" at Tothill Fields.
"There's an order now," said our informant, "that all boys sentenced for twelve months and
upwards shall be reported to the Home Office, with the view to their being sent to Eedhill.
There's farm labour there for the lads," said the warder; "and when I was down at the
pliK:e three weeks ago, the crops were beautiful, I assure you, sir."*
• Tlie subjoined is the form issued to boys previous to their being sent to the Philanthropic Farm
Soliool, and the appended certificate has to be signed by them ; though how the Government authorities can
expect a mere child to understand the wording of an Act of Parliament, and how they can ask an "infant,"
HOUSE OF COEKECTION, TOÏHILL FIELDS.
425
The tailors' shop at this prison is the same in size and style as the shoemakers', with
the exception that the hricken pavement is partly covered with a raised floor, that serves
for a shop-board for the boys at work. At the time of our visit, there were some 20 lads
sitting cross-legged hera like so many veritable young Turks. The usual complemeut of
juvenile tailors is 26, we were told; but wheu we were there some few were at the school¬
room. In one corner of the apartment was a kind of counter for cutting out, fitted with
drawers, and littered with hlue cloth, and in the opposite comer sat the presiding warder
on a stool. Against the wall stood a small press, and there was a new pair of trousers
hanging by the window.
"Some of those that are at work here," said the warder, in answer to our inquiries,
"have been three months on the board; that is the longest time any of the boys you see
have been working in the shop, though I <Zo sometimes get a hand or two that remains with
me for six months. Many of these lads, however, have been only ten days at the work
at present ; hut some have been at the trade before, and if we know they are of use, we
employ them. We have them, however, for so short a time, that it's impossible to learu
them much."
to affix his name to a document, when, in law, he has no power to commit any act of his own, is beyond
us to appreciate :—
" CONDITIONAL PARDON TO YOUNG OFFENDERS.
" 1st áf 2nd Victoria, Cap. 82, Sect. 11.
" Whereas Her Majesty has lately exercised Her Eoyal Prerogative of Mercy in granting Pardon
to Young Offenders who have been sentenced to Transportation or Imprisonment, upon the condition of
placing himself or herself under the care of some Charitable Institution for the Eeception and Reforma¬
tion of Young Offenders named in such Pardon, and conforming to ahd abiding by the Ordere and Rules
thereof : And whereas the same has been found beneficial : And whereas it is expedient that some Provision
should be made for carrying the same more fully into effect, Be it therefore enacted, That from and after
the passing of this Act, in case any Young Offender who has been or shall be hereafter sentenced to Trans¬
portation or Imprisonment has been or shall be pardoned by Her Majesty for such Office upon such
condition as aforesaid, and has or shall accept such conditional Pardon, and shall afterwards abscond from
such Institution, or wilfully neglect or refuse to abide by and conform to the Rules thereof, it shall and may
be lawful to and for any Justice of the Peace acting in and for the County, City, Riding, or Division,
wherein the said Offender shall actually be at the Time ho shall so abscond or neglect or refuse as aforesaid,
upon due Proof thereof made before him, upon the Oath of One credible Witness, by Warrant under his
Hand and Seal, to commit the Party so offending for every such Offence to any Jail or House of Correc¬
tion for the said County, City, Riding, or Division, with or without hard Labour, for any period not
exceeding Three Calendar Months for the First Offence, and not exceeding Six Calendar Months for the
Second or any subsequent Offence, in case the Managers or Directors of any such Charitable Institution
shall be willing to receive any such Young Offender after his or her being convicted of absconding,
neglecting, or refusing as aforesaid ; and in every Case such Imprisonment shall be in addition to the
original Sentence of such Young Offender ; and after the Expiration of the Time of such additional
Punishment, if the Managers or Directors of any such Charitable Institution shall refuse to receive such
Offender, or if Her Majesty shall not be pleased to exercise Her Royal Prerogative in pardoning the Breach
of the condition on which the former Pardon was granted, the said Party shall forfeit all Benefit of the said
Pardon, and shall he remitted to the original Sentence, and shall undergo the Residue thereof, as if no such
Pardon had been granted."
" CERTIFICATE.
" I do hereby acknowledge that the Clause in the above-recited Act of Parliament has been read over
and explained to me, and that I of my own free will and
accord do promise that I wUl conform to and abide by the Rules and Orders of the Philanthropic Farm
School, at Redhill, in the county of Surrey, and will go abroad whenever I may be found sufficiently
instructed or otherwise suitable for emigration by the Governors of that Institutiou, and that I receive my
Pardon upon such Cunditious.
" Dated this day of
" Witness."
" The total number of boys under 17 years of age," says the Special Report of the Visiting Justices of
1856, "who have been committed to this prison during the five years ending Michaelmas, 1851, amounted
426
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
" They're working now at the prisoners' clothing, and part of the officers' uniform. We
do all the repairs of the prison, and don't do any work for out of doors."
" The earnings of last week," the officer went on, as we interrogated him on the subject,
"were £1 16«.; the week before they were £1 6«. 4¿.; before that, £1 12«. 6¿. ; and
£l 8s. 6d. for the previous one : that's for 26 hoys." (This gives an average of £1 10«. lOd.
per week, earned by the entire shop, which is at the rate of 1«. 2|¿. per week for each
boy, or £3 1«. 9d. per annum.*)
" The greater number of the lads are of very little use except at repairing clothing,"
continned the officer. " There are only about eight or nine of aU those now on the board'
that I can put on the new work. One here," he said, pointing to a lad, " has been at
tailoring work outside. Most all of them have been taught in this prison. That boy, P ,
yonder, is one of the best hands I have ; he's been taught here, and is in very frequently.
He's been in—^let me see !—How many times have you been in, P ?"
" Four times," replied the lad.
" Ah ! and I should think he has been about nine months on the board altogether,"
added the warder. " And there's D , too, he's been recommitted about the same
number of times, and been about as long at the trade. The boys prefer this work to the
oakum-picking. They express a wish to improve themselves, so as to be able to get a living
outside, though very few take advantage of it."
to no less than 7,763, while only 263 (not 3è per cent.) were received into reformatory asylums from it."
The distribution of these is shown in the following table :—
TABLB SHOWING THB NUMBER OP BOTS RBCEIVED INTO FHILANTHBOPIC INSTTTUTIONS DURING THE YEa.RS
ENDING MICHAELMAS, 18S1 55.
1
Philanthropic Institntions.
1851.
1852.
185S.
1854.
1855.
TotaL
Philanthropic Farm School . .
4
3
11
3
2
23
The London Colonial Dormitory .
áo
34
11
9
10
94
The Kagged School Dormitory .
20
—
—
—
—
20
The House of Occupation . . .
3
5
—
2
2
12
Juvenile Refuge . . .
—
9
—
—
9
The House in the East. .
—
1
23
3
16
43
Kentish Town School
—
1
14
—
15
Pear Street Refuge . . .
—
4
—
—
4
Boys' Home, Wandsworth . .
—
—
—
13
12
25
St. Giles' Industrial School . .
—
—
—
6
1
7
Metropolitan Reformatory, Brixton
—
—
—
—
5
5
Grotto Passage Industrial School
—
—
—
—
5
5
Boys' Refuge, Whitechapel . .
—
—
—
—
1
1
Total ....
57 '
67
59
36
54
263
Average received into reformatory asylums from 1851—55 . . 52.
* It is difficult to understand why the earnings in the tailors' shop, where double the number of hands
are employed, are but little more than half those of the shoemakers'. Out of doors a tailor earns as much
money as a shoemaker, so that, according to Cocker, if the labour of 13 boys employed at shoemaking is
estimated at £2 3«. 2d., that of 26 boys, working at an equally profitable calling, should be worth £4 6«. 4d.
We have seen, however, that the earnings of the entire 26 boy-tailors are computed at only £1 10«. lOd.,
so that it is evident that the value of boy-shoemakers' work must be considerably overrated, as we showed to
be the case at Coldbatb Fields. Indeed, the estimates formed at the correctional prisons as to the earnings
of the prisoners are comparatively worthless, being generally left to the mere caprice of the trade-warder ;
so that at those prisons where special pains are taken—as, for instance, at Wandsworth—to arrive at more
accurate results, the prisoners seem, by the returns, to have been comparatively idling, whilst at other
institutions, like Coldbath Fields, the prison is made to appear several thousand pounds less expensive to the
country than it really is. Surely the Government should not allow such a state of statistical confusion to
continue.
HOUSE OF COERECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
427
Oue lad we spoke to said, " Yes, I like tailoring better than oakum-work. I want to
learn a trade."
The hoy P said, " He didn't do any tailoring outside, but it was better and easier
work than the oakum. He did, though, one week's work at it last time he was out. I
went," he added, " for a week on trial to a shop, and I was going back on the Monday,
but got took on the Simday while I was out thieviug with some other boys."
We asked him whether he made or repaired his own clothes when he was at liberty, and,
his answer was, that he liked " to be able to do something for his-self." The officer informed
us, moreover, that the lads generally preferred tailoring, because they were not so liable to
get reported for not doing the precise quantity of work.
We then conferred with the warder as to his mode of valuing the labour done by
the prisoners.
" We estimate the work on these boys' jackets," he said, taking up one of the ordinary
prison garments, " at Od. each, the trousers at the same, and the waistcoats at 6d.—that is,
for making; and for repairing we put the work down at Id. a garment, taking one with
the other. Making officers' imiform trousers we value at 4s. ; the waistcoats at the same
price ; the coats are made at Coldbath Fieldä."
In the carpenters' shop we found only one boy-prisoner, who was busy making a deal
booljack for one of the officers. This shop was about the same size as that of the tailors'
and shoemakers'. We now lost the tarry smell pervading the oakum-room, and the waxy
and leathery odour of the shoemakers' shop, as well as the singed-blanket perfume
of the tailors', for here the nostrils were regaled by a strong turpentiny smell of deal;
and shears, and tape measures, and cutting boards, and kits, and lasts, and small cheese-
cutters, as well as hooks, and heaps of fuzzy oakum, reminding of a püe of ladies' "frisettes,^'
now gave way to benches, and tool-boxes, and planks, and curly shavings littering the
floor.
In the carpenters' shop, two boys are generally kept employed. The carpenter himself
was away at the period of our visit, at work in the females' prison, and the other lad had
been sent to the oakum-room until his return.
The boy at work was an intelligent-looking youth, and sixteen years of age. He was
in prison for stealing two felt hats and a cap from his employer. It was his first offence.
His father and mother were both alive. On his coming up to London, from the country,
he had a situation in a lawyer's office, he told us,' and afterwards was employed at a hatter's.
It was from the shop at which he worked that he stole the articled for which he was
imprisoned.
" I was very foolish," he said to us, with apparent earnestness, " and hope to do better
for the future. My time expires on "Wednesday-week," he added, with a twinkle of the
eye, and a slight quiver of the lip, " and father is going to try and apprentice me, or get me
work. I've had four calendar months. Ho, sir, I never was at the carpentry trade'before I
came here, and I like it well enough. I once lived with Mr. F , in Eegent Street,
and he would give me a good character. I am sure I don't know whether I shaE go on
at carpentry, until I've seen father."
This boy's work, the chief warder informed us, was not returned as labour of any value.
" One of the -carpenter boys," he added, " who had lately gone out, was worth, he should
say, about 10«. or 12«. a-week. He had been employed at the trade outside with his uncle,
who was a carpenter. Boys, generaEy, are found to like carpentering, and some are very
quick at the craft."
In the oakum-store—which is ene of the smaE offices ranged round the planted court¬
yard—^we found nine more prisoners engaged, and here were large coils of old rope, and
428
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
hugt) scales dangling from the beam overhead, and canvas bags and baskets filled with pieces
of junk, ready cut up, besides a large screw-press, on which was painted—
"PEISONEßS AHE NOT ALLOWED TO SPEAK TO EACH OTHER."
Some of the boys employed here were seated on small stools, and one, on an inverted
basket, was busily unpicking the "strands" of the junk, whilst others were repicking the
oakum that had been badly done.
One boy, too, was laying strings of spun-yam in a large tub, ready for packing the picked
oakum into "cheeses," or bundles of half cwts. "The spun yam," said the ofiicer in
attendance, " is laid in the tub, and the oakum 'treaded' in, and then pressed down by the
screw-press there." In this store the junk is weighed, and tied into bundles of 1 lb. and 1| lb.
and 2 lbs. The price paid by the contractor who supplies the prison with junk for picking
into oakum, is £4 10«. the ton.
" Tliat boy there," continued the officer, pointing to a lad at work in one comer of the
apartment, " is making a mat. We estimate the value of such work at \d. the square foot, and
that one is about 6 feet, and the labour upon it worth 2«. He will make about 1^ of such
mats in the course of the week. He never did anything of the kind before he came here.
He's got 12 months' imprisonment, and has been about three months with us ; he can make
a mat very weU now."*
The garden work only remains to be described, to complete our account of the prison
labour at Tothill Fields.
The garden at this prison consists of about two acres within the walls, and three acres
outside of them. Around the prison runs,a small strip, barely more than fifty feet wide,
and part of this is devoted to the governor's flower-beds and vegetables. Here, too, is
a small lawn to be seen, and a puny fountain playing like an inverted watering-pot, with
bits of slag and flint piled about its base. The high and yellow boimdary wall of the
prison is seen behind this, and, immediately overlooking it, the eye rests upon the back of
the newly-built houses in Victoria Street. As we pass along, we hear the cry of the babies
shut up with their mothers in prison C 4 and 5, and afterwards we come to the spot where
the old tread-wheels formerly existed ; and on our requesting to know the chief warder's
opinion as to the efifeet of that form of labour upon prisoners' minds, he says, as we journey
along towards the garden without the walls, "I think the old tread-wheel here, sir, did no
good; that kind of useless labour, to my fancy, never made a man better—it never
reformed a prisoner, of course, for it's only intended as a punishment. The wheels have
been taken down about ten years—long before the transfer of women took place; it waa
in 1846, if my memory serves me right. The place was wanted for work-rooms, and thai
was one reason for their being removed ; but some of the magistrates were against that kind
of work. Mr. Welsby was, for one. He said it was useless labour ; and he, I think, was the
principal cause of its being done away with. We never had more than two tread-wheels
here, and each used to be worked by 30 hands at a time ; boys were generally put on with the
men, but women never. Before the wheels were divided, each hand used to do between
10,000 and 12,000 feet of ascent daily ; but latterly, after the division into boxes, 7,000 used
to be the number." The outer garden is enclosed by a low wail, and is on the side of the
|)rison towards PimUco. It consists of an oblong piece of ground, planted with potatoes,
cabbages, turnips, beans, peas, carrots, parsnips, and onions—aU for prison use. This piece
of land has only been enclosed four years. It was given to the prison for as much more land
on the northern side of the building where Victoria Street now stands. There was a garden
* During the week previous to our inspection of this prison two mats had been made, and 19| lbs. of
coir used in the manufacturo of them, tlio cost of which was estimated to amount to is. at 2Jíí. per lb.
I'liu mats were 6 feet long and 4 feet wide, and the uclt earnings of the boy employed were computed at -Is.
HOUSE GE COßllECTION, TOTHILL EIELDS.
429
there of the same kind as the present. About eight hoys, on an average, keep this in order
throughout the year, though perhaps there are a few more employed upon it in the spring.
"I think the garden labour," said the warder, "very good for the prisoners; but, of
course, we should require a larger tract of land than we could get here, in the heart of West¬
minster, to keep all our prisoners employed at such work. Some of the boys like the field
labour, and some do not—they object to the heavy work, such as wheeling and digging."
Here we found five boys at work, in .company with an officer, three digging-in manure, a
fourth hoeing, and another carrying water. The value of the whole of the crops, last year,
was £25, we were told ; though in other years they had yielded £30.* Hence, assuming
the gross earnings of the eight boys to be £20, exclusive of the rent, we have about £2 10s.
per annum for the value of the labour of each.
"It's very very bad ground here," said the warder, "very poor; for three foot down
we get sand itself ; and that's one reason why we can't have better crops. Another reason
is, we can take only the short-sentence boys, for we are afraid of employing the two years'
lads out here ; so as soon as we have got one gang, they go, and we have to look about for
another. Besides, town lads prefer oakum-picking ; for digging, they say, galls their hands.
That boy you observe working alone yonder, goes out in a day or two, or I shouldn't
leave bim by himself. The wall is low, you see."
This completes our account of the work done at Tothill Eields prison.
"We have seen that there are, upon an average, 157 boys employed in the oakum-room,
and that these earn about 18«. each per annum.
In the shoemakers' shop there are generally 13 employed; and these gain, according to
the apparently overrated estimates, upwards of £8 a-year each.
In the tailors' shop there are 26 boys at work, each calculated to earn about £3 per anmun.
In the carpenters' there are 2 boys, whose labour is not returned as of any value at alL
In the oakum-store 9 prisoners are employed, earning about the same as those in the
large work-room, besides one engaged at matmaking, whose gains are estimated at 4«.
a-week, or about £10 a-year.
And in the garden 8 lads are employed, whose average earnings seem to be of the value
of about £2 10«. annually.
Now the expense of maintaining and clothing, &c., each prisoner at Tothill Eields is
about £8 per annum, so that there is a heavy loss upon aU these forms of labour, excepting
that of shoemaking and matmaking; the former of which, at least, there is good reason
for supposing to be grossly over-estimated, f This makes the gross value of 216 boys' labour
amount to £374 17«. &d. per annum, or, as nearly as possible, £l 14«. 8í?. per head. The
average value of the labour of the prisoners throughout England and Wales is £2 1«. Zd.
(see anie, p. 350),
1 Ü.—e.
Of the Boy-Prisoners^ School-room and Library.
The school-room we found to be situate opposite to the tailors' shop, and it had the true
academical fittings. There were the ordinary, long, narrow desks, with the sloping ledge,
* The potatoes, estimated at £4 per ton, were worth about £10 ; the cabbages, about £7 10«., at per
dozen ; the tares yielded about £2 10«. ; and the onions, at 3«. the bushel, were valued at 18«.
t To the above list should be added, 4 boys employed in the planted court-yard, while the mowing is
going on, and one of whom is kept continually at work in the same place.
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
hardly wider than that of a pew, and pierced at intervals with holes, for ink-stands, that
reminded one of the miniature flower-pots for dwarf plants. Then the walls were stuck aU
over with black boards covered with Scripture texts, as, for instance:—
" I WILL AEISE, AND 60 TO MY FATHEE,
AND SAY UNTO HIM, FATHEE, I HAVE SINNED
AGAINST HEAVEN, AND BEFOEE THEE."
" BOAST NOT THYSELF OF TO-MOEEOW,
FOE THOÜ KNOWEST NOT WHAT A DAY
MAY BEING FOETH."
On the opposite waU hung some long strips of boards, with Roman numerals upon them,
and the alphabet in different characters, as well as the Mnltiplication Table, and sheets of
lessons in large type ; whilst against the end of the room, near the door, were large maps,
and a book-case, with the warder's high desk just in front of it.
At the time of our entry, the warder schoolmaster was hearing the boys read frqm the
Bible, the elass standing in a Mne near the waU, each with a book in his hand. At the
opposite end of the school-room was another detachment of lads, stammering over one of the
large printed sheets, which a second warder held in his hand. Some of the lads read quickly,
and others boggled sadly over the words, as, for instance—"And into whatsoever 'ouse ye
enter,"—("Look at it, boy! don't you see there's an h to the word?" cries the warder.)
"And into whatsoever house ye enter fust,"—(" How often am I to teU you that there's no
such word as fust? Spell it.")—" f-i-r-s-t," proceeds the lad, "say ye, peace be unto this
'ouse,"—(" "What ! 'ouse again?")—" house," quickly adds the youngster.
' The next verse was read off rapidly and glibly enough, by one who seemed bnt half the
age of the other.
" I don't think you can manage it—can you, R ?" said the warder, addressing a
heavy-looking Irish lad, whose turn it was to proceed with the reading.
" Go on, next boy," he adds.
" But—I—say—unto—you—that—in—^that—day—it—shall—^be—more—^tol-de-rol' '—
(""What!" cries the warder, "toleralle, you mean.")—" tol'ble—for—Sodom—and—
Tomorrer."—(" G'omorrah, boy—can't you see?")
At the other end of the room the lads were making even greater havoc with the words;
and though the lesson consisted of simple monosyllables, such as " The old man muse;
be led by the hand, or he may fall into the deep pit," one-half of the big boys, even those of
sixteen, were unable to accomplish the task.
The warder schoolmaster informed us that there were five classes every day, and of those
who attended the school there were only 30 who could read and write well, whereas there were
as many as 92 who could read and write imperfectly, and 94 who could hardly read at all.
"They are just like those boys at the other end of the room, who are spelling words of
one syllable. Fifty in every one hundred we got here," he went on, " don't know their
letters when they come in, even though they are some of the oldest boys that can be sent to us.
Each prisoner has one hour's schooling every day. Some we have very great difficulty in
teaching. Now here's one. Come here, L . He's thirteen years old, and has been in
the prison not less than a year altogether, and yet he doesn't know more than his letters now.
He used to be sent to ns for begging, but latterly he has come in for thieving. He's taken
to pioking pockets within this last year or so.
" But it is only here and there," the warder went on, " that we meet with a boy who is
very difficult to teach ; they're generaUy like other boys. I have been managing the school
here for the last thirteen years, and about 2,200 come imder my care in the course of the
twelvemonth."
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
431
The schoolmaster then produced some of the boys' copy-books, and pointed to them witl,.
no little pride as he said, " That's leamt in the prison. It's not bad, is it, considering he s
only been at it for three months?"
The prison library, the warder further informed us, consists of travels and voyages; of
periodicals, such as the " Leisure Hour;" of the " History of England;" of narratives, such
as " The Loss of the Kent;" of small works on Natural History, like the "Book of Birds;"
and some few works of fiction, such as " Robinson Crusoe." The volumes are supplied, he
told us, by the chapel clerk, who takes down the boys' names and gives out the books the
next day. Prisoners are aUowed to keep the books they have to read as long as they please ;
but if they misconduct themselves, the privilege of reading is stopped. They are allowed
to amuse themselves with their books during meal times, and after supper for about half an
hour before being locked up for the night, at six o'clock. In the summer, they can read in
their cells, as well as in the dormitory ; but in winter they cannot do so, as no lights are
allowed them, nor is the prison heated, and, consequently, they have to remain from six in
the evening until half-past six in the morning in utter darkness and idleness.
This appears to us so gross a defect, as to be a positive scandal to the country in which it
is allowed to continue.
Concerning the system of education, we have nothing further to urge. Those who
believe that boys of criminal propensities are to be made a thought better by such schooling
as we have here given the reader a sense of, must be as deficient in their knowledge of
human nature as zealots usually are.
Of course, the teaching of reading and writing is a negative good ; but it becomes almost
an evil when people get to believe that it has any positive moral or religious effects 'per se,
and so to forego, as is invariably the case in our prisons of the present day, aU education of
the feelings, and principles, and even the tastes, of those confined within them. The most
valuable of all schooling is surely that of the heart, and the next that of the hands,
especially for the poorer classes, who are mostly the inmates of our jails ; and to educate
either of these there is hardly any attempt made in our prisons of the present day.
Of the Reception and Discharge of Prisoners at Tothül Fields.
Of the appearance and demeanour of the boys at chapel there is little demanding special
notice ; and we have "already fully described the service at PentonviUe, as well as that at
Coldbath Fields.
Of the serving of the breakfast and dinner, again, the illustration printed in this work will
afford a better idea of the process than words can give. We may say, however, that at the
end of the oakum-room, where the serving takes place, a warder stands, with a large white
apron half covering his uniform, and with a ladle in his hand. Before him, raised on a
bepch, are two large tubs, such as are used for washing; one of these is white within
with the thick gruel, and the other brown with the cocoa it contains. On another bench
by his side is a large basket full of smaU loaves, like puny half-quarterns. Near him
is a boy, stationed by a large basket of tins, and close at hand, on a mat, is a heap of metal
spoons.
" Come on, front row," cries the warder ; and immediately the prisoners on the foremost
bench come filing past the "long lights," each lad picking a spoon from the mat as he goes
by. Then the lad stationed by the tin basket hands them, one by one, a pannikin, and,
432
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOKDON.
each boy carrying this to the tubs, gets it filled either with a pint, or half a pint of gruel,
according as he be merely a vagrant, and belong to the second or third class; or a pint of cocoa,
if he be a felon, and lucky enough to rank as a first-class criminal. The prisoner receives,
at the same time, a loaf of bread, which is only 5^ oz. in weight, if his offence be of the
lightest character; but one of 6| oz., if of a graver nature.
The dinner is served in the same manner, with the exception that the tubs then are
fiUed not only with gruel for the more innocent, though less favoured, third-class prisoners,
but sometimes with soup, of which the first and second class get a pint, whilst the soup is
occasionally displaced for tins of meat and potatoes for the more profligate and better-treated
portion of the prisoners.*
On one of the days of our inspection of this prison, we were informed that three fresh
prisoners had just arrived, and we accordingly hastened to the reception-room, to be present
at the process of admission. The reception-wards at Tothill Fields are situate in that part
of the building which faces Francis Street, forming part of the offices that are ranged round
the planted court-yard.
Here we found two wretched shoeless and ragged creatures, and one more decently clad
youth, his darned clothes telling that, at least, he had a mother who took some little care of
him. The latter boy, we were told, had just been sent from the Sessions; he was thirteen
years of age, and had got two years' imprisonment for stealing brass. This heavy sentence had
been passed upon the lad with the view of getting him sent to some reformatory institution.
His father was dead, we were told, and his mother had a large family of eight children, said
our informant. The warder, who had seen her, added that she appeared a very decent sort
of woman, and gave her boy excellent instruction and advice. She was an India-rubber
weaver, and earned but little, though she had many mouths to feed—her yoimgest child
being only four years of age.
The other boys were of a very different stamp. One of these,who was but thirteen years
old, and was habited in an old coat and plaid waistcoat, with a red cotton handkerchief
about his neck, had been in the prison three times before—^indeed, it was only eight weeks
since he had quitted it, and he had had three weeks' imprisonment then. His present sentence
• "We append the scale of the provisions furnished to the different classes of boy-prisoners :—
DIET TABLE—HOUSE OF COMRECTION AT VESTMINSTER—1856.
First Class.—AU Prisoners under 17 years
of aße, whose terms of Imprisodinent
exceed 3 months.
Sbcond Class.—Ail Prisoners under 17
years of uge, whose terms of Imprison*
ment are more than 14 days and not
exceeding 3 months.
Tbird CI.ASS.—All Pnsol
ers under 17 years of apt
whose terms of Imprisoi
do not exceed 14 days.
-
f
Dati>.
Break/ait.
J>intier.
Sttpj>cr.
Break/att.
Ditiner.
Sufíyer.
Break/aat.
Sttpper.
(D
e¿
1
'O
ea
0«
g
ti
•a
CS
&
C9
o
2
*3
P
13
t
*3
-a
es
V
'S
p
•O
ce
9i
C3
O
4-*
2
p.
p
'S
p
•O
ce
o
'S
p
•o
ce
a>
'S
p
•p
es
"S
P
'P
X
'S
p
»
Q
pa
s
fU
CO
O
pa
O
CP
o
»
Pn
o
pa
o
pa
0
pa
Ü
a
0
Monday .
'J uesday .
Wedneáday
Tboraday .
Friday . -
Saturday .
Sunday. .
O*.
6Î
6Î
65
Pint
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
Os.
65
65
65
65
65
65
65
Os.
*6
*6
e
Os.
8
*8
8
Pint
1
'Ï
1
Pint
"i
Os.
6i
n
n
65
65
Pint
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
Oz.
6|
6|
6Î
6l
Pint
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
Or.
n
61
65
6f
02.
**6
'*6
Oz.
'*8
'*8
Pint
1
"i
Pint
"i
1
"i
Gz.
n
65
65
65
65
65
Pint
i
Oz
6.
5;
b^
5i
5;
5
5
:
Pint
Oz
5
5
6
5
5
5
5
Pint
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
0*.
54
5Î
H
â|
04
54
Pint
5
1
ToUl .
JC5
7
465
18
24
3
1
465
7
465
7
465
12
16
2
3
465
H
37J
34 374
7
37i
The ingredients forming the above dietary to be in the following proportions :—For every hundred pints,
3 lbs. 2 oz. of Cocoa, 8 lbs. of molasses, or 4 lbs. of raw sugar, and 121 pints of milk ; Gruel, 9 lbs. of oat¬
meal, and 1 lb. of salt ; Soup, for every hundred pints, 2 ox-heads, 3 lbs. of barley, 6 lbs. of peas, â lbs. of rice,
1 lb. of salt, and 2 oz. of pepper, with a due proportion of vegetables ; beef and mutton altemate fortnights
in the winter months, viz., from October to March, and beef only from April to September, inclusive. Tb«
meat diets are issued cold.
HOUSE GE CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
433
was six weeks, for pieking ladies' pockets. He stood unabashed, half shivering, without
shoes. " There, stand on the mat, boy," said the officer kindly to him.
The other, who was dressed in a buttonless Oxonian coat, pinned close up to the neck,
and with a crimson silk handkerchief about his throat, had the peculiar side-locks
indicative of the London thief. He, too, was an old frequenter of the prison, and had been
there about a year ago. " I've been thieving ever since I was here before," he said, in
answer to our questions. " Mother sells things in the street. I aint got no father—never
had one, that I know dn. I've done often two pockets a-day since I've been out. It
wouldn't have lasted as long as it has, if I'd ha' done that number all the year round.
Sometimes I do odd jobs for mother, do you see; and when I'm not at work for her, I goes
pickpocketing on my own hook."
The conversation was stopped by the warder crying, " Come this way, boys !" and
straightway the two shoeless, experienced, and shameless young thieves passed on grinning
into the examination-room, whilst the more decent boy, caught in his first offence, followed
sobbing in their wake.
"Have you got auything in your pockets?" inquires the officer. " You'd better say;
for you wiU be punished if any article is found upon you afterwards."
" I've got a loaf, please, sir," says the least depraved of the lads, as he takes a piece of
bread from his pocket.
"That's a House of Detention loaf, aint it?" Euiked the warder, as his experienced eye
recognizes the shape and make. " WeU, you can keep that," he adds. " Now, go in there
and take off your clothes, and mind you wash yourself thoroughly with the soap. Do you
hear?" he says, as he leads the boys to a kind of box-lobby, and opening the doors to the
baths, which seem like small cisterns sunk in the fioor, he bids them go in, and be as quick
about washing themselves as they can.
Outside here is a boy-prisoner sorting suits of prison clothes on the ground, fi-om a
basket, and as soon as one suit is complete, he thrusts it into one of the bath-rooms, for the
use of the new-comer within.
" They sleep in the reception-room the first night," says the warder, " and have their
supper and breakfast in the examination-room ;" and, as he says the words, we can hear the
boys breathing hard and spluttering, while they splash the water about in the adjacent baths.
In an adjoining room, hanging up against the waU, are several handcuffe on pegs, and
instruments that appear like leathern bottles, but which, we are informed, are muffles,
which were sent from HanweU some years ago, when some lunatic prisoners were given to
tearing up their clothes. These muffles are attached to a strap, which goes round the waist ;
sometimes they are applied to women who destroy their garments.
In a few minutes the boys made their appearance again in the prison dress, and those
who were shoeless before came out now eomfortably shod. They had all the look of old
jail-birds ; for, in the suit of gray, it was almost impossible to distinguish the more decent
boy from the others.
One of the habitual young thieves said, with a smile, as he pointed to the less experienced
lad, "He's got on his own boots, please, sir; and bis own hankycher, too, instead of the stock."
The warder locks the boys up in the bath-rooms, and telling the lads he's going to get
them some soup or gruel from the kitchen, walks off in that direction, informing us, by the
way, that the new-comers will have to remain tiU the surgeon sees them on the morrow,
and passes them up to their room. " The boys mostly prefer being in the dormitory," he
adds. " Very few, indeed, will volunteer for the cells."
These dormitories are not only at variance with the principles of the silent associated
system, upon which the "Westminster House of Correction is said to be conducted, and which
requires, in its integrity, that the prisoners, though working in company by day, should
be provided each with a separate sleeping apartment by night, but they reduce the
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
iUacipline of the prison to that state of promiscuous herding of the prisoners -which was the
great -rice of the prison arrangements of former times, and that at the very period when there
is less supervision on the part of the officers than at any hour of the daj. Indeed those
prisons, where the inmates are congregated in considerable numbers in large dormitories by
night, possess all the objectionable features of the Hulks. And the boys' prison at Tothill
Fields, -with its common sleeping-rooms, where some 80 odd lads are crowded together,
with their beds lying on the ground as close as the hammocks swing between the decks
of the con-rict ships at Woolwich, is a place that is about upon a par with the prison
regulations in the beginning of the present century, and a state of things that should not be
allowed to exist for a single da,y in this country, -with our present knowledge of the evils of
such association. In this establishment there is only one such dormitory, and this is
situate on the upper floor of the prison 3 and 4, being one large room that stretches the
entire length and width of the building. In this place, at the time of our visit, no less
than 87 boys had slept the night before. The room contains 50 iron bedsteads, 25 of which
are ranged on either side of it, whilst the remaining beds are formed by strewing the
requisite number of mattresses along the boards. The dormitoiy is 80 feet long, and 32 feet
wide, so that, allowing each of the 25 bedsteads to be 3 feet wide, it is evident that there
would not be even one inch of space between it and the beds on either side of it ; whñe, if
we reckon the mattresses at 5 feet long, it is equally plain that, from the -width of the apart¬
ment, again, there can be a gangway of only 12 feet in breadth between the rows, even if we
suppose the double line on either side to be immediately head to foot. Moreover, we have
before stated, scientific authorities have agreed that, even where perfect ventilation exists, a
cell ha-ring a capacity of upwards of 900 cubic feet is necessary for the maintenance of the
perfect health of each prisoner confined in it. But the dormitory to which wc refer is
only 12 feet high, and therefore contains not quite 40,000 cubic feet, thus allo-wing but
little more than 350 cubic feet of air for each prisoner to breathe during the night. It is
true there is a skylight of pierced glass in the roof, but it must be also remembered that
these apertures can only remove the upper stratum of the atmosphere -within the apartment,
and that therefore the prisoners must remain immersed for many hours in a noxious medium
of their own exhalations ; and if a small aperture in the upper part of the room be sufficient
to insure perfect ventilation, it is obvious that such large and expensive apparatus as venti¬
lating shafts and flues would not be applied to every new building.
In this dormitory there are two officers keeping watch during the night. Nevertheless,
as the boys are locked up in it as early as six o'clock in the evening, and not liberated till
half-past six in the morning, and left there, too, -without any occupation to divert their
minds from intercourse, it is manifest that, even with tenfold the supervision, all kinds of
moral pollution must go on -with the prisoners. Indeed, the mind is naturally led to ask,
what can be the use of keeping lads silent throughout the day, and with warders all around
them, placed in elevated situations, so as to detect and prevent the slightest communication
either by look or by gesture, and yet to place the very same young urchins at night in the
best possible position for intercommunication, and with not one tithe of the supervision
of the day-time.
We now come to the last subject we have to touch upon in connection with the boys'
prison at Tothül Fields. We have already spoken of the number of punishments, and
shown that they are far below the average number of all England and Wales—a fact which,
we repeat, greatly redounds to the honour of all connected with this prison. We ourselves
can bear witness to the order and regularity maintained, at the period of our -risit, by
the young profligates confined here. And those prison authorities are assuredly the best
who can attain this end with the infliction of the least possible physical suffering. Nor
should we forget, in our appreciation of this part of the economy of the Westminster House
of Correction, the many inducements that there are to apply a greater amount of coercion to
INTERIOR OF THE HOUSE OF DETENTION, CiLERKENWELL,
(as it apl'kars at tiik TIME OF THE VISITS OF THE PRISONERS' FRIENDs).
32
HOUSE GE CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
435
boys rather than to men, so that the government of this prison appears to be carried on upon
as mild and considerate a plan as any in the kingdom. The reports seemed certainly far
from being heavy on any of the days that we were at the prison, and the majority were for
the boyish tricks of laughing, talking, and being disorderly, whilst two were for talking and
shouting in their cells—an offence which is due mainly to the circumstance of the boys being
locked up as early as six, and not allowed any light even to read by in the winter evenings,
so that as there is only one warder patrolling the prison throughout the night, it is obvious
that the lads, being aware of the opportunities that they have for intercourse, naturally resort
to that as the means of whiling away the terrible tedium of solitude and darkness. Indeed,
one of the authorities assured us that it was impossible to stop the communication among
the yoimgsters, owing to this absurd and wicked regulation
"Now the man's calling the discharges out," said our oficial guide, direçting our
attention to one of the warders, who had entered the oakum-room with a slate in his hand,
and from which he was reading off the names of certain prisoners.
" James C ," said the ofB.cer ; " William W , Thomas D , John D ,"
&c. ; and as the warder repeated the names, the boys made answer, and coming out from
their places, arranged themselves in a row beside the man. Then the warder asked each
boy what was his name, and how long he had been in the prison, whilst, as the lad replied,
he looked at the slate to see if the answer agreed with the particulars set against the name.
After this, the officer led the boys towards the store-room, where they were furnished with
their own clothes, and soon conducted down to the gate, where they were drawn up within
the porch, immediately outside the governor's office.
To this part of the building we directed our steps, when we heard that aR was ready
for carrying out the process. Here we found some half-dozen lads, who had shed the
prison garb, and were habited in their own rags and tatters. But half an hoim before, they
were warmly and comfortably clad, and now many of them stood shivering in their scanty
and rent apparel. One was without a jacket, and another with his coat pinned up, so as to
hide the want of a waistcoat.
" "William C " was called out within, and the warder outside the office door, echoing
the name, told the boy who answered to it to step inside. He was placed in a smaU passage
in front of a window looking into the office, where stood the clerk close against a desk on
the other side.
" Have you ever been here before ?" said the clerk. " No," was the answer.
" Belongs to MUlbank," said one of the warders ; " and some friend is here for him."
" Let him step in," replied the clerk. The friend had no sooner made his appearance,
than the clerk inquired, " "Who are you?"
" His brother," was the answer.
" The magistrates have given this boy a shilling, and they hope they'll never see him
here again, so do you take care of him." And with this admonition, and the money, thé
couple withdrew.
" James H " was next shouted out, whereupon a little boy made his appearance
outside the office window, his head scarcely reaching above the sül.
" You've been in for robbing your mother, eh ? What a horrible fellow you must be to
do that ! "Why must you go plundering her, of all persons in the world ? The next boy to
you has been flogged, and that wül be your fate if ever you come here again, I can teU you."
"Anybody for this boy ?" the clerk inquired of the attendant warder.
"Nobody for him, sir," was the reply.
" "Where does your mother live ?" demanded the clerk.
" In G Street, St. Luke's," said the boy, with a smile on his lip, and utterly
unaffected by what bad been said to him.
82''
436
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LOHDON.
" He's been here often before," the governor observed to us. " He's a bad boy, indeed."
" Henry H " was the next boy called for.
" How long have you been here ?" the clerk began with this one.
" Six weeks, sir."
" And how often before ?"
" Three times here, and twice in the House of Detention."
" Ay, we're getting a little of it out. Nobody for this boy, I suppose," he added.
"No, sir," was the answer.
" Thomas W " was then called.
" What time have you been here ?"
" Ten days, please, sir," said a smaU boy, in a whining voice, while the clerk stretched
his head forward out of the window to get a peep at him.
" And how often before ?"
" Six times, please, sir," was the answer given, in the same whining tone.
" Now, that's very pretty for a boy of your age—^isn't it ? And how came you to break
sixty panes of glass ? for that's the offence you were charged with."
" I did it along with other boys, sir—^heaving stones."
"A set of mischievous young urchins!" the clerk exclaimed. "Was it an empty
house ?" he asked.
"No, please, sir—^it was an old factory ; and there was about a himdred panes broken
before, so the boys was trying to smash the rest on them."
" Anybody there for this boy, of the name of Thomas W ?"
" No, sir, nobody," the warder replied.*
• Previous to the discharge of any prisoner, the following blank form of letter is filled up and sent to
the parents or friends of the lad, in order that they may be at the gate, at the appointed time, to take charge
of him: —
" HOUSE OE COKKEOTION, TOTHILL FIELDS, WESTMINSTEB.
" day of 185 is aeqitainted that
ioiU le dischovrged from the alove prison on next, at o'clock in the.
when if is requested that -friends will attend to receive "
It would not be fair to close this article without printing a copy of the rules of the prison, the same
as we have done with others :—
"HULES RELATIHO TO THE TREATMENT AND CONDUCT OP THE PRISONERS, AS CERTIFIED BT HER MAJESTY'S
SECRETARY OF STATE, AS FROFER TO BE ENFORCED.
" 1. All prisoners are on admission to be placed in a reception-cell. To be strictly searched. All knives,
sharp instruments, dangerous weapons, or articles calculated to facilitate escape, to be taken from them ; all
money and other efiects brought in with them, or subsequently sent in for their use and benefit, to be taken
care of. Such money and effects to be entered in the prisoners' property book.
" 2. Every prisoner is to be examined by the surgeon before he be passed into the proper ward. And to
be cleansed in a warm or cold bath, and have his hair cut, as the surgeon may direct ; he is not to be stripped
and bathed in the presence of any other prisoner.
" 3. The wearing apparel of every prisoner to be fumigated and purified, if requisite ; and, if necessary,
may be burned. If the wearing apparel of prisoners before trial be insufficient, or necessary to be preserved
for the trial, such prisoners may be furnished with a plain suit of coarse cloth. In the case of convicted
prisoners, their wearing apparel to be taken charge of, and they provided with a prison dress. No prisoner,
unless under conviction for felony, to be clothed in a party-coloured dress.
" 4. Male prisoners to be shaved at least once a-week ; and convicted prisoners to have their hair cut at
least once a-month.
"5, Convenient places to be provided with water, soap, towels, and combs. And every prisoner to
be required to wash daily ; all prisoners, if the surgeon so advises, to be placed in a bath at least once
a month.
" 6. Every prisoner to be provided with a separate bed or hammock, either in a separate cell, or in a cell
HOUSE GE COREECTIOH, TOTHILL EIELDS.
437
"Very ■well, let them aU go."
The moment afterwards, the officer in charge of the outer gate opened the door, and the
liberated boys were once more at large in the world.
with not less than two other male prisoners. To be provided ■with a hair, flock, or straw mattress, two
blankets, and a coyerUd.
" 7. Every prisoner to he allowed as much air and exercise as shall be recommended by the surgeon.
" 8. Every prisoner who does not maintain himself to be allowed a sufBcient quantity of plain and whole¬
some food, according to the dietaries provided for each class of prisoners. A prisoner may require his food
to be weighed or measured, and shall not thereby be subjected to any privation or inconvenience.
" 9. No spirits, wine, beer, cider, or other fermented liquor, shall be admitted for the use of any prisoner
without a written order of the surgeon.
"10. No tobacco to be admitted for the use of any prisoner, except by written order of the surgeon.
" 11. No prisoner to be permitted to see any visitor out of the place appropriated for that purpose, except
in special cases under a ■written order signed by a visiting justice ; and, in the case of prisoners seriously ill,
by a ■written order of the governor and surgeon. Male prisoners to be visited in the presence of the governor
or subordinate ofdcer. This rule is not to extend to prisoners when they see their legal advisers.
" 12. No person shall be admitted to visit a prisoner on a Sunday, except in special cases by a written
order of a visiting justice ; and in no case shall a prisoner under punishment for offences committed within
the prison, or in solitary confinement \mder sentence of any court, be permitted to receive any visits from friends
without an express order in writing from a visiting justice, stating the grounds on which such order is given.
" 13. Persons may be permitted, by order of a visiting justice or by the governor, to visit at any reason¬
able hour prisoners confined for non-payment of penalties or for want of sureties, for the purpose of making
arrangements for the payment of the penalty or the finding of sureties.
" 14. Any near relation or friend may be allowed to see a prisoner dangerously ül, under an order in
■writing signed by the governor and surgeon.
" 15. Any prisoner of a religious persuasion diffbring from that of the Established Church may, on
request to the governor, be visited by a minister of his persuasion on Sundays, or any other days, at such
reasonable hours as may not interfere with the good order of the prison. Any books which such ministers
may wish to supply to the prisoners of their persuasion must he first submitted to a visiting justice
for approval.
" 16. No prisoner who is a Jew or Mahometan to be compelled to labour on his sabbath.
" 17. No prisoner to be allowed to receive or send any letter except from or to a visiting justice, without
previous inspection by the governor.
" 18. No prisoner to receive or send any parcel, or receive any food, clothing, bedding, or other articles,
without previous inspection.
" 19. Officers on duty to attend to complaints of prisoners, and report the same to the governor.
" 20. A prisoner complaining of illness, to be reported without delay to the surgeon ; and not to be
eompelled to labour until after the surgeon has seen him.
" 21. No prisoner not sentenced to hard labour to be employed on the tread-wheel, either ■with or without
his consent.
" 22. No prisoner to he employed as warder, assistant-warder, wardsman, yardsman, overseer, monitor,
schoolmaster, or in the discipline of the prison, or in the service of any officer thereof, or in the service or
Instruction of any other prisoner.
" 23. AU prisoners to attend Divine service, unless prevented by iUness, or permitted to be absent.
" 24. Provision to be made for the instruction of prisoners in reading and writing, under the direction
of the visiting justices.
" 25. Prisoners of the Established Church shaU be provided ■with hooks and tracts of religious, moral,
and useful instruction, under the direction of the chaplain ; and prisoners of persuasions differing from the
Established Church, under the direction of the visiting justices. Each prisoner who can read shall he
furnished with a Bible and Common Prayer Book during Divine service ; and a Bible and Common Prayer
Book placed in each day-room, and (during the' summer months) in each sleeping ceU.
"26. Prisoners going to work, to chapel, to the airing-yards, or to any other part of the prison, to be
attended by one or more officers ; and silence maintained.
" 27. Prisoners to obey the rules of the prison, and the lawful orders of the governor and other officers,
and not to treat with disrespect any of the officers or servants of the prison or any person therein. They
are not to be idle or negligent in their work ; they are not to be guilty of swearing, or of indecent or
disorderly conduct ; nor to commit any kind of nuisance, nor wilfully damage any bedding, any part of the
prison, or any article of property therein.
" 28. Silence, night and day, must he observed, any breach of it to he punished by the stoppage of a
438
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
The lad whose brother had cotae to meet him had two others outside, dressed in fustian
jackets and of no very respectable appearance, waiting to welcome him.
The other boys looked round about to see if they could spy any friend of theirs loitering
in the neighbourhood. None was to be seen.
Of all the young creatures discharged that morning, not a father, nor a mother, nor even a
grown and decent friend, was there to receive them!
We stood at the prison door, watching the wretched, friendless outcasts turn the comer,
and saw the whole of them go off in a gang, in company with the suspicious-looking youths
in fustian jackets, who had come to welcome the one whose brother alone had thought him
worth the fetching.
We could not help speculating upon the impending fate of these discharged children, and
of the shocking heartlessness of the State which can forget its duties as a father to them.
Where were they to go ? Who was there to counsel and protect them ? The only home
that was open to receive them was the thieves' lodging-house, and the only friends and
advisers they could find in the world, the old and experienced inmates of such places.
meal, or part thereof, and a repetition of offence by increased stoppages, or by solitary confinement on bread
and water only, or by such other punishment as the law has provided. Singing or wbistiing in the cells,
work-rooms, or yards, is strictly prohibited, and the following are also declared to be acts of disorder
and to be punishable as such, viz., any attempt to barter or exchange provisions, any marking, defacing, or
injuring the doors, walls, tread-wheels, forms, tables, clothes, bedding, books, or utensils whatsoever of the
prison, any attempt at communication by signs, writing, or stratagem of any sort ; any unnecessary looking
round or about, each prisoner being required to look before him either at Divine service or at work, meals,
exercise, or passage from one part of the prison to the other, any secreting of money, tobacco or forbidden
articles, either on first admission into the prison or afterwards ; any purloining or contriving to purloin
provisions, books, combs, or any other article, or, when employed in the groimds, purloining vegetables or
fruit, &o., growing therein ; or any wilful disobedience of such orders of the governor or ofiS.cers of the
prison as shall he in accordance with law and the rules of the prison.
"29. Any convicted prisoner who shall neglect or refuse to perform the labour allotted to him, or who
shall make or attempt to make any wound, sore, or "fox" on his person, or counterfeit fits, or any ailment,
for the purpose of obtaining the sanction of the surgeon to be excused labour, or an increased allowance of
diet, or any indulgence either in or out of the infirmary, or shall be guilty of a breach of the prison rules,
shall be liable to be punished by being kept in solitary confinement on bread and water only, for such time
not exceeding one month as the visiting justices shall think fit.
" 30. The governor may examine any persons touching offences committed by prisoners, and determine
thereupon ; and order any prisoner so offending to be punished for not more than three days, as the case
may deserve. The several punishments for prisoners are—close confinement in their own cells, or in
refractory cells, allowance of bread and water only for food, or reduction of the ordinary allowance of food ;
or, in case of necessity, offenders may he placed in irons (but not for more than twenty-four hours at one
time without a written order by a visiting justice). In cases of greater or repeated offence, a visiting or
other justice may order close confinement for a month, or personal correction in the case of prisoners
convicted of felony or sentenced to hard labour.
"31. A prisoner's earnings, or money in the hands of the governor, shall he liable and may be applied
towards the repair of any injury done by him wilfully to the prison, or to county property, or other property
therein.
" 32. Any prisoner whose term of imprisonment would expire on a Sunday, shall be discharged on the
Saturday next preceding."
The subjoined is the official notice concerning the " stsir system," as it is called
"BEWABDS TO FBISONEBS FOa GOOD OONDTTCT.
"A Eed Star on the left arm shall he worn as a mark of good conduct by prisoners, for every three
months they may have been in the prison without any complaint or report being made against them. They
may, however, be deprived thereof in case of misconduct.
" A prisoner in possession, at the time of his or her discharge, of one or more Stars may receive a
reward to be determined by the visiting justices.
" By order of the visiting justices,
" ChabiiES Chbbtham, Governor."
HOUSE OF COKRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
489
H ii.—7.
Of Juvenile Offenders, in Connection with the Increase of Crime in this Country.
From what has been already shown in connection with the details of the boys' prison at
Tothül Fields, as weU as concerning the number of boy-prisoners, or juvenile offenders, as
they are called, in the prisons of the country generally, we believe no thinking person can
come to any other conclusion, than that it is from such classes as these the old and habitual
criminals among us are originally derived, and annually recruited, so as to keep on supplying,
year after year, with but slight fluctuations, the same number for trial at our sessions and
assizes, and the same number of convicts, without any apparent decrease of the criminal
stock of the country. Nevertheless, persons who are unused to the study of such matters
are inclined to adopt hasty theories concerning the origin of crime among us, and to refer
it to circumstances which, though they may tend to swell the number of casual criminals,
cannot strictly be said to have any influence on the formation of hahitual ones.
It is manifest that, in order to obtain a regular living by criminal courses, it is necessary
that the same apprenticeship should be served to the different forms of that business, as
to any other trade. A novice, who tried to pick a pocket, or break into a house, or coin
a piece of false money, would be detected in the very first attempt, and a stop probably be
put to his career even in the outset. Those who are acquainted with the intricate machinery
necessary for carrying on a successful course of crime, even for a short period—^how, for
instance, with burglars, it is necessary to be in connection with "putters-up" to plan the
robberies, companions wherewith to execute them, and " fences" to receive the property when
stolen—^how, with coiners, it is essential to know where to obtain the apparatus and mate¬
rials, and the " smashers" by whom to pass the " shoful" pieces off upon the public—and how,
with pickpockets too, it is necessary to go out with " stalls" to cover the actual offender, and
others to whom to pass the handkerchief, or the purse, immediately it is taken ; so that one
might as well think of starting as an attorney, without being acquainted with the legal
offices and practice of the courts, as well as the proper counsel and pleaders to employ.
A moment's reflection, however, wUl teach the keen-witted that crime is as much a
business among us, as manufacturing or trading in any article of wealth. Hence, it is
clear that the professional criminals of this country must be regularly bred and educated to
the craft—for such it really is.
That the juvenile offenders are the principal class from whom the old habitual ones are
derived becomes positively indisputable, when the facts are brought clearly before the
mind. Among the boy-prisoners, a large proportion of Irish lads is always to be found ;
and we have before said, tbat a considerable number of the regular thieves are declared,
even by the class themselves, to be Irish-Cockneys. Further, we have proved that the
majority of the convicts of the coimtry are between the ages of 17 and 25 ; and when this is
coupled with the fact, that the average duration of a thief's career is, according to the best
authorities, somewhere about six years, it is plain that the juvenile offender must, in the
course of time, pass into the full-grown thief.
A thief's life, the men themselves say, consists generally of four months in prison and
six months out ; and, during this period, the mobsmen calculate that they commit some six
robberies a day, or, on an average, fifty per week ; for there is generally something going on,
they say, one day in the seven—either a race, or a fair, or a review, or a flower-show, or a
confirmation, or a popular preacher, to draw large crowds together. Hence, it would
appear, that not less than 1,000 robberies must be committed by each regular hand to one
detection. It is obvious, therefore, that to perpetrate such an amount of depredations with-
440
THE GKEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
out discovery must require not only long practice, but great knowledge of the movements of
the police, as well as considerable cunning and sleight of hand, all of which are utterly
incompatible with any sudden additions of untrained persons to the class.
Notwithstanding these plain facts, however, learned professors will occasionally read
papers before meetings of scientific gentlemen, in order to prove that the fluctuations in the
number of our criminals are due to the greater or less prosperity of the nation, and that
years of distress are years in which malefactors abound, and years of plenty those in
which our murderers, and burglars, and pickpockets cease to indulge in their natural
propensities.
Now, surely it can be no offence to these sages to insinuate that they are as unacquainted
with the characters of the people concerning whom they are speculating, as geologists are
with the habits of the megatherium and iguanodon. They forget that crime is made up
of many elements—that a large proportion of it consists of acts of ferocity and malice—such
as assaults, and attempts to kiU, and of actual manslaughter ; though such propensities surely
cannot be referred to a scarcity of food amongst the people, since an increase in the number
of assaults is known to be connected with a greater consumption of spirituous liquors.
Again, another form of crime consists of acts of lust, indecency, shame, &c. ; and these,
also, have assTU-edly nothing to do with any deterioration in the comforts of the community.
A third division of the same subject is made up of the crimes of evil-speaking, such as
pequry, &c. ; but these, too, cannot possibly be said to be influenced by years of prosperity
or the reverse.
The only kind of crimes, indeed, that would appear, at first sight, 'to be attributable to
the increased poverty of the people, are those offences which consist of the appropriation of
the property of others, such as acts of felony, larceny, sheep-stealing, embezzlement, ille¬
gally pawning, forgery, and the like. But even these will be found, when duly analysed,
to consist mainly, as we have said, of such acts as it is impossible for any one to commit
without an almost certainty of being detected at the very outset, and of practices which
persons certainly do not adopt on the spur of the moment, but to which they are regularly
bred and trained. By far the greater proportion even of this class of crimes consists of
those of which a large proportion of om population make a regular trade ; and as well might
it be said that the numbers of clergymen, or merchants, or the engineers of the country,
vary with the varying wealth of our people, as that our habitual criminals do so.
Moreover, those who desire to be convinced upon the subject, can put the matter to
the test of figures, and see whether the fluctuations in the number conunitted for trial
agree with the variations in the number of the able-bodied paupers through a long series of
years. The amount of pauperism iu the land is the true test as to the prosperity or distress
of the country ; and if it can be shown, which assuredly it cannot (for years ago we put the
matter to the ordeal of statistics), that in those counties and in those years in which there
is a greater number of able-bodied poor relieved, there is also a greater number of persons
tried at the assizes or sessions throughout the country—^then, but not tiU then, it may be
truly asserted that the greater or less number of criminals is governed by a greater or less
amount of misery in the land.
Now, the mistake which is usually made in all such theories lies in fancying not only
that there is but one kind of crime, viz., theft of some form or other, but also in confounding
habitml with casual criminals. The number of habitual criminals, however, is influenced only
by the number of convicts annually drafted from the criminal ranks into our prisons, or
transported to our colonies, as well as by the number of those quondam young offenders who
yearly arrive at man's estate. There may be a few others occasionally added to the body
from association with some of the tribe ; but these are merely exceptional cases, and serve
to increase the bulk of the professionals to a very small degree. With the casual crimes the
case is entirely different, and these being accidental offences, arisfrig generally either from
HOUSE GE COERECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
441
the cupidity or temptation of the culprits, they are often brought about by an increased
pressure of circumstances, and therefore it is but natural that the number of them should
vary with the varying prosperity of the nation.*
Further, we have before shown that whereas the number of criminals, in relation to
the population of the coimtry (exclusively of those summarily convicted), yields an average
during the last 20 years of 15§ to every 10,000 of the population, the habitual cnnunals
make up about 12^ of the ratio, whilst the casual ones constitute merely the small remainder.
And it will be found, by studying the criminal records of the country, that the casual ones
increase and decrease with different years ; whilst the habitual ones remain more or less sta¬
tionary, altered only by the numbers who are regularly added to or removed from the ranks.
For the sake of putting the criminal question into something like a scientific form, we
have drawn up the following series of tables, wherein the crimes are regularly classified
according to the causes, or rather the impulses dictating them; whilst each class is sepa¬
rated into two main divisions, according as the crimes included under them are, or are not,
capable of being -made a means of living or matter of trade by those who practice them.
Moreover, the numbers accused of each of the several offences have been calculated, with
relation to a definite number of the population, for each quinquennial period during the last
twenty years ; and thus the reader is placed in a position to observe the various increments and
decrements of the different crimes, as weU as among the widely-different classes of criminals.
By these tables, which, it should be added, include every crime given in the Govermqent
Eetums, it wUl be seen that there are, according to the average for the last twenty years,
12-8 habitual crimináis, and 2'8 casual ones to every 10,000 of our people; and that whereas
the ratio of the habitual criminals was 13'1 during the decenniad ending 1843, it was 12-5
to the same number of the population in the one ending 1853, so that there was a slight
decrease (0'6 per 10,000 of the population) in the course of that period; wMlst, with the
casual criminals, the average ratio was 3-0 in the same number from 1834 to 1843, and 2*7
between 1844 and 1853 ; thus showing a decrease of 0-3 per 10,000. These are facts which
teach us how slight an impression has really been made upon the great body of criminals by
aU our late endeavours.
As regards the different kinds of crimes committed by these two distinct classes of
criminals, it wiU be found, that whilst the records show a ratio of 15-7 criminals of both
classes per 10,000 of the population, not less than 12 8 of these belong to the class who
commit crimes of dishonesty of some kind or other, and that as many as 11J of this pro¬
portion appertain to the habitual order of offenders. Of the remainder, 2-3 of the 15-7
criminals indulge in acts of ferocity and malice, and only 0'3 in offences of a lustful or
indecent character.
• The above remarks refer principally to a paper that was read before the last meeting of the British
Association, and entitled, " A Deduction from the Statistics of Crime for the last Ten Years," and in which it
was stated that " the returns of the committals for trial at assize and quarter sessions in England and Wales
from 1844 to 1854 (the last year for which they have been published) show clearly that crime increases when
the physical condition of the people deteriorates, and vice versd. In 1844 the number of committals," it was
said, "was 26,642; in 1845, 24,803; 1846, 25,107; 1847, 28,833; 1848, 30,349; 1849, 27,816; 1850, 26,813;
1851, 27,960 ; 1852, 27,510 ; 1853, 27,057 ; and in 1854, 29,359. The first year," argues the professor, " in
which the committals increasedis 1847—a year of distress—the rise then being nearly 4,000. This rise was
maintained, with an addition of nearly 1,500 in 1848, likewise a year of distress, partly owing to the same causes
as in 1847, and partly on account of political disturbances and apprehensions. In 1849, the causes which before
had depressed the condition of the labourer died away. Food was cheap and employment abundant.
Emigration had removed many of the working-classes, and those who remained at home found the demand for
their services increased ; and in that year we find the committals decline by nearly 2,500. The succeeding
years were likewise seasons of prosperity, and during these the criminal returns ediibit no marked fluctua¬
tion. In the last year of the series the number of committals rose by a little over 2,000, but at the same time
the condition of the people was impaired, owing to the enhanced price of food and other necessaries of life,
and also to the waste of the national resources and partial derangement of trade occasioned by the war."
442
THE GBEAT WORLD OE LONDOH.
TABLE SHOWING THE RATIOS OF THE ACCUSED TO EVERT 10,000,000 OF POPULATION THROUGHOUT ENGLAND
AND WALES, AND ALSO THE INCREASE OR DECREASE FOR EACH CRIME, ARRANGED IN CLASSES AND
ORDERS, DURING THE SEVERAL QUINGUENNIAL AND DECENNIAL PERIODS, FROM 1834-1853.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1834-43.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1844-53.
Decennial Ratios from
1834-53.
1
Average
Ratio fur
20 years.
ClUHES.
1834-38.
1839-43.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1844-48.
1849-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1844-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
Claas I.
CRIMES OF FEROCITÎ
AND MALICE.
ORDER A.—CASUAL CRIMES.
1. Mdbdebous Cases.
Murder
Attempts to murder, at-t
tended with dangerous |
bodily harm ....
Ditto,unattendedwithdo. V
Shooting at, stabbing,
wounding, «fee., with 1
intent to maim . .
Killing and maiming cattle.
47-6
92-2
23-6
39-9
139-4
19-8
— 7-7
4- 47-2
— 3-8
41-9
136-4
19-1
41-1
148-3
16-1
— 0-8
4- 11-9
— 3-0
43-6
116-6
21-7
41-5
142-5
17-6
— 2-1
4- 25*9
— 4-1
42-5
129-5
19-6
Total Murderous Cases
163-4
199-1
4- 36-7
197-4
205-5
4- 8 -1
181-9
201-6
4- 29-7
191-6
2. Homicidai, aim Assault
Cases.
Manslaughter ...
Assaults and inflicting
bodily harm
Ditto (common) . . .J
Ditto onpeaceofBicersinthe
execution of their duty .
Béscue and refusing to aid
peace officers . . . .
Riot, breach of peace, &c. .
148-8
507-4
302-9
181
407-9
131-5
433-7
300-9
14-3
338-9
— 17-3
— 73-7
— 2-0
— 3-8
— 69-0
118-9
452-7
200-2
5-8
234-4
121-3
380-3
145-1
3-1
153-6
4- 2-4
— 72-4
— 55-1
— 2-7
— 80-8
139-8
469-3
301-9
16-1
372-3
120-1
195-5
171-8
4-4
192-8
— 19-7
—273-8
-130-1
— 11-7
— 179-5
129-9
332-4
236-9
10-2
282-6
Total Homicidal and other
Assaults
1,385-1
1,219-3
—165-8
1,012-0
803-4
— 208-6
1,299-4
684-6
- 614-8
992-0
3. Arson Cases.
Setting fire to dwelling-\
house, shop, &c., per¬
sons being within . . ■
Ditto house, warehouse,
corn-stack, &c. . .
Ditto crops, plantations,
beaths, &c
Attempts to commit arson,
set fire to crops, &c. . .
35-^
4-7
3-1
32-9
4-8
2-4
— 2-9
+ 0-1
— 0-7
76-3
6-6
3-4
97-1
8-7
2-0
4- 20-8
4- 2-1
— 1-4
34-3
4-7
2-7
87-0
7-6
2.-7
4- 52-7
4- 2-9
0-0
60-6
6-2
2-7
Total Arson Cases . .
43-6
40-3
— 3-3
86-3
107-8
— 21-5
41-7
97-3
— 55-6
69-5
4. Destructive Cases.
Riot, and feloniously des¬
troying buildings, ma¬
chinery, &c. , . .
Destroying textile goods in
course of manufacture .
Ditto hop-binds, trees,
shrubs, &e
Other malicious offences
5-1
1-2
7-1
6-6
18-5
1-7
6-4
13-5
4- 13-4
4- 0-5
— 0-7
4- 6-9
2-8
0-8
2-6
11-5
2-2
-01
3-6
15-2
- 0-6
— 0-79
-j- 1-0
+ 3-7
12-0
1-4
6-9
10-1
2-5
-04
3-0
13-4
— 9-5
— 1-3
— 3-9
4- 3-3
7-2
60-9
4-8
11-7
Total Destructive Cases
20-0
40-3
4- 20-3
17-7
21-1
4- 3-4
30-4
18-9
— 21-5
24-6
An Casual Crimes of Fe
rocity and Malice .
1,612-1
1,499-0
— 113-1
1,313-4
1,137-8
—175*6
1,553-7
1002-4
-5ÖI-8
L207-7
HOUSE OF COEKECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
443
Quinquennial Batios from
1831-43.
Qninquennlal Ratios from
1844-53.
Decennial Ratios from
1834-53.
Average
Ratio for
20 years.
CsiUES.
1834-38.
1839-43.
Increase
or
Decrease.
44-48.
1849-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1844-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
Class 'L—Oontimied.
ORDER B.—HABITUAL
CRIMES.
1. Burglarious Cases.
Burglary I
Do. attended with violence f
Housebreaking . . .
Breaking within curtilage .
Do. into shops, warehouses,
counting-houses—stealing
Misdemeanours with intent
to commit, &c. .
Sacrilege.
202-5
313-4
55-1
91-0
13-9
7-2
357-9
398-4
51-3
134-5
15-5
9-7
-1- 155-4
-1- 85-0
— 4-8
-i- 43-5
-t- 1-6
-I- 2-5
275-4
330-9
36-0
118-2
14-2
4-0
307-2
333 5
38-1
96-9
19-9
5-7
+ 31-8
+ 2-6
+ 2-1
— 21-3
+ 4-7
-t- 1-7
282-7
357-3
53-1
113-5
14-8
8-6
292-7
332-7
37-1
105-8
17-1
4-9
+ 10-0
— 24-6
— 16-0
— 7-7
-f 2-3
4- 3-7
287-7
345-0
45-1
109-6
15-9
6-8
Total Burglarious Cases .
683-1
967-3
+ 2S4-2
778-7
801-3
+ 22-6
830-0
790-3
+ 39-7
' 810-1
2. Highway Bobbery
Cases.
Bobbery i
Do. and attempt to rob
with armed company.
Do. attended with cutting
and wounding . .
Assaults with intent to rob,
and with menaces . .
Stealing in dwelling-houses
aud persons put in fear .
219-3
41-7
2-1
243-9
27-8
2-7
+ 24-6
— 13-9
+ 0-6
211-4
18-6
0-6
264-3
19-8
1-2
+ 52-9
+ 1-2
+ 0-6
231-9
34-6
2-5
238-8
18-7
0-9
+ 6-9
+ 15-9
+ 1-6
235-3
26-7
1-7
Total Highway Robbery
Cases
263-1
274-4
+ 11-8
230-6
285-3
+ 54-7
269-0
258-4
+ 11-6
263-7
3. Piracy Cases.
Piracy. .
0-2
2-9
+ 2-7
4-0
-02
— 3-98
1-6
2-0
+ 0-4
1-8
Total Piracy Cases
0-2
2-9
+ 2-7
4-0
-02
— 3-98
1-6
2-0
+ 0-4
1-8
4. Smugglino Cases.
Assembling armed to aid
smugglers
Assaulting and obstructing
officers
3-8
2-1
3-6
— 3-8
+ 1-5
-04
1-6
+ 1-66
1-8
2-9
0-0
0-9
— 1-8
— 2-0
0-9
1-9
Total Smuggling Cases .
5-9
3-6
_ 2-3
-04
1-6
+ 1-66
4-7
0-9
— 3-8
2-8
5. Poaching Cases.
Poaching, being out armed
taking game
77-7
79-6
+ 1-9
66-6
80-0
+ 13-4
78-6
73-5
— 5-1
71-0
Total Poaching Cases . .
77-7
79-6
+ 1-9
66-6
80-0
+ 13-4
78-6
73-6
— 5-1
71-0
6. Escape from Custody
Cases.
Prison-breaking, harbour¬
ing and aiding the escape
of felons
Being at large under sen¬
tence of transportation .
11-0
2-1
14-4
2-5
+ 3-4
+ 0-4
12-8
2-0
10-3
4-0
— 2-5
+ 2-0
12-8
2-3
11-5
3-0
— 1-3
+ 0-7
12-2
2-6
Total Escapes from Cus¬
tody
13-1
16-9
+ 3-8
14-8
14-3
— 0-5
15-1
14-5
— 0-6
14-8
All Habitual Crimes of
Ferocity ani Malice .
1,043-1
1,344-7
+ 301-6
1,094-74
1,182-52
+ 87-78
1,199-0
1,139-e
— 59-4
1,155-2
444
THE GREAT
"WORLD OF LONDON.
Quinquennial Ratios from
Quinquennial Ratios from
Decennial lUtios from
1
1834-43.
1844-53.
1834.53.
1
calmbb.
!
Increase
Increase
1
' Increase
1 Average
Ratio for
1834-88.
¡ 1839-43.
or
1844-48.
1849-63.
or
1834^3.
1844.53.
or
20 years.
i
Decrease.
Decrease.
Decrease.
Class IX.
CRIMES OF CUPIDITY
AND TEMPTATION.
ORDER A.—CASUAL CRIMES-
Breach of Trust Cases.
Larceny by servants . .
620-1
920-3
-f- 300-2
928-2
959-0
+ 30-6
785-3
944-0
+ 158-7
864-6
Stealing goods in process
0-6
-1- 0-6
0-9
— 1-6
of manufacture . • .
2-.'i
2-5
+ O'O
12
2-5
1-7
Ditto fixtures, trees, &c. .
100-0
195-4
-h 85-9
183-2
1560
— 27-2
153-9
169-6
+ 5-7
161-8
Ditto and receiving post
+ 4-Ó
letters
4-0
12-2
+ 8-2
10-0
14-0
8-2
12-2
+ 4-0
10-2
Embezzlement . . . .
1760
223-7
4- 47 7
217-5
208-1
— 9-4
200-7
212-7
+ 12-0
206-7
Forging of other forged in¬
struments (such as
cheques, bills of ex¬
+ 380
87-0
change, &c.) . . . .
45-8
83-8
87-7
86-8
— 0-9
65-4
+ 21-6
76-2
Att Casual Crimes of Cupi¬
dity and Temptation .
957-9
1437-9
+ 480-0
1,427-2
1,425-1
— 2-1
1,216-1
1426-4
+ 210-3
1,321-2
ORDER B.—HABITUAL
CRIMES.
1. Aoricultorai- Cases.
Cattle stealing ....
24-3
30-4
+ 6-1
22-0
19-2
— 2-8
27-4
20-3
— 7-1
23-9
Horse stealing ....
104-3
107-5
+ 3-2
78-1
60-8
— 17-3
106-0
69-2
— 36-8
87-6
Sheep stealing ....
195-9
234-5
4- 38-6
154-3
134-.7
— 19-8
215-9
144-5
— 71-4
180-2
Deer stealing
3-9
4-1
4- 0-2
5-0
2-5
— 2-5
4-0
3 7
— 0-3
3-8
Fish stealing . , . . -
4-7
4-9
4- 0-2
5-5
2-7
— 2-8
4-8
4-0
— 0-8
4-4
Total Cattle Stealing, and
similar Cases . .
833-1
381-4
+ 48-3
264-9
219-7
— 45-2
358-1
241-7
— 116-4
299-9
2. Larceny Cases (chiefiy
civic).
Larceny, to the value of £5,
1.34-9
in a dwelling-house . .
111-8
120-4
+ 8-6
116-4
+ 18-5
116-3
125-9
+ 9-6
121-1
Ditto from the person . .
1,033-1
1,018-6
- 15-5
1,094-3
l,16n-2
+ 73-9
1,025 6
1,132-4
+ 106-8
1,079-0
Ditto (simple) ....
8,256-0
9,835-4
+ 1,579-4
8,938-7
8,265-2
— 673-5
9,072-2
8,616-6
— 455-6
8,844-4
Total Larceny Cases . .
9,400 9
10,974-4
+1,573-5
10,199-4
9,548-3
— 581-1
10,214-1
9,874-9
— 339-2
10,044-5
3. Petty Cases.
Stealing from vessels in port
84-0
55-9
69-6
Child stealing
42-0
79-8
+ 37-8
— 28-1
61-6
+ 8-0
65-6
Misdemeanours, with in¬
tent to steal
2-7
1-8
— 0-9
2-0
2-0
0-0
2-2
2-0
— 0-2
2-1
11-9
12-5
+ 0-6
20-0
31-1
+ 11-1
12-3
25-7
+ 13-4
19-0
s ^ s À^m f r ym A Jtm
A OtCLl JrCtty OCLSCS • • •
4. Eeceivino Cases (chiefly
56-6
94-1
+ 37-5
106-0
89-0
— 17-0
76-1
97-3
+ 212
86 7
by fences and cheats).
Eeceivers of stolen goods .
458-2
524-9
+ 66-7
407-3
443-5
+ 86-2
492-7
425-9
— 66-8
459-3
Frauds and attempts to de¬
fraud (cheats) ....
284-5
864-5
+ 80-0
337 9
362-4
+ 24-5
, 326-9
850-6
+ 24-7
338-2
Total Receiving Cases
742-7
889-4
+ 146-7
745-2
805-9
+ 60-7
818-6
776-5
— 42-1
797-5
6. Foeoeby Cases.
Forging Bank of England
+ 5-1
+ 6-0
4-5
notes ("shoful" thieves)
2-2
7-3
1-6
7-2
6-8
0-5
— 2-3
5-6
Possessing ditto ....
0-2
0-7
+ 0-6
0-1
0-7
+ 0-6
•04
— 0-1
0-3
Total Forgery Cases . .
2-4
8-0
+ 5-6
1-7
7-9
+ 6-2
7-3
4-54
— 2-77
5-9
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, TOTHILL FIELOS.
445
Quinquennial Ratios from
IS34.43.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1844.53.
Decennial Ratios from
1834-53.
1 !
Average
Ratio for
20 Tears.
CamsB,
1834-38.
1839-43.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1844-48.
1849-33.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1844-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
Class II.—Continued.
6. CoiNiNa Cases.
Counterfeiting the current
, coin
Possessing, &c., imple¬
ments for coining . .
Buying and putting o0
counterfeit coin . . .
Uttering and possessing do.
12-3
9-8
4-Ô
209-3
11-6
16-4
0-9
2200
— 0-7
+ 6-6
— 3-6
+ 10-7
5-9
9-4
0-7
200-6
5-0
8-6
0-0
326-7
— 0-9
— 0-8
— 0-7
+ 126-1
11-9
132
2-7
214-9
5-4
91
0-3
265-4
— 6-5
— 4-0
— 2-4
+ 50-;.
8-7
11-1
1-5
240-1
Total Coining Cate» . .
235-9
248-9
-f 14-7
216-6
340-3
+ 123-7
242-7
280-2
-f 37-5
261-4
7. Othee Felony and Mis-
demeanoub CaSES.
Felonies not included in
the above
Misdemeanours, ditto .
6-4
58-1
6-9
100-5
-t- 0-5
42-4
6-5
77-3
7-5
44-5
+ 2-0
— 32-8
6-7
80-0
6-5
60-4
— 0-2
— 19-6
6-6
70-2
Total other Felony and
Miedemeanour Casee
64-6
107-4
-t- 42-9
82-8
52-0
— 30-8
86-7
66-9
— 198
76-8
AU Habitual Crimet oj
Cupidity and Tempta¬
tion
10,834-1
12,703-6
-fl,869-5
11,616-6
11,083-1
— 533-5
11,803-6
11,342-0
— 461-6
11,572-7
Class IZX.
CRIMES OF LUST, SHAME,
INDECENCY, PERTERT-
ED APPETITES, ETC.
ORDER A.—CASUAL CRIMES.
1. Ldstedl Cases.
Rape and carnally abusing
girls under 10 years of
age
Assaults with intent to ra¬
vish and carnally abuse.
Carnally abusing girls be¬
tween 10 and 12 years of
age
38-4
84-4
3-6
56-7
82-9
2-8
+ 18-3
— 1-5
— 0-8
67-4
84-5
3-9
75-6
77-2
2-8
-t- 8-2
— 7-3
— 1-1
48-0
83-5
3-2
71-6
80-8
3-3
-t- 23-6
— 2-7
0-1
59-8
82-2
3-2
Total Luetful Casee . ,
126-4
142-4
+ 16-0
155-8
155-6
— 0-2
134-7
155-7
+ 21-0
145-2
> 2. Shame Cases.
Iconcealing the births of in-
j fants
29-1
33-9
+ 4-8
40-3
45-0
+ 4-7
31-5
42-7
+ 11-2
37-1
Total Shame Cases. . ,
29-1
83-9
+ 4-8
40-8
45-0
+ 4-7
31-5
42-7
+ 11-2
37-1
3. Indecent Cases.
Indecently ezposing the
person
13-6
5-9
^ 7-7
4-5
1-4
— 3-1
9-6
2-3
— 7-3
6-9
Total Indeoeni Cases . .
18-6
6-9
— 7-7
4-5
1-4
— 8-1
9-6
2-3
— 7-3
6-9'
4. Cases aoainst the
Maeeiaoe Laws.
Abduction
Bigamy
1-0
27-0
2-3
41-9
+ 1-3
-j- 14-9
1-0
45-4
1-2
44-9
+ 0-2
— 0-5
1-7
34-7
1-1
45-1
— 0-6
+ 10-4
1-4
39-9
nage Lavs ....
28-0
44-2
+ 16-2
46-4
46-1
— 0-3
36-4
46-2
+ 9-8
41-8
446
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDON.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1B34.43.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1844-33.
Decennial Ratios from {
1834-63.
Averape
Ratio fni
20 years.
calheb.
1834-38.
1839-43.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1844-48.
1849-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1844-53.
Increase,
or
Decrease.!
Class III.—CotUinued.
5. Unnaturai. Cases.
Sodomy ... . . ■
Assaults with intent to
commit
16-2
45-8
22-9
34-8
-|- 6-7
— 11-0
33-5
38-2
34-9
20-8
+ 1-4
— 17-4
19-7
401
32-7
30-4
+ 13-0
— 9-7
26-2
35-2
Total Unnatural Cases .
62-0
57-7
— 4-3
71-7
55-7
— 16-0
69-8
63-1
+ 3-3
61-4
AU Casual Crimes of Lust,
Shame, Indecency, ami
Perverted Appetite .
2591
284-1
+ 24-0
318-6
803-8
— 14-8
272 0
310-0
+ 38-0
290-9
ORDER B.—HABITUAL
CRIMES.
1. Brothel Cases.
Keeping disorderly houses
97 4
108-6
+ 9-2
66-4
50-3
— 16-1
102-2
58-2
— 44-0
84-ol
2. Abortion Cases.
Attempts to procure the
miscarriage of women
30
3-3
— 0-3
2-0
4-0
+ 2-0
3-5
4-1
+ 0-6
3-8
All Habitual Crimes of
Lust, Shame, Indecency,
4-c. . . .
101-0
109-9
8-9
68-4
64-3
— 14-1
t
105 7
62-3
— 43-4
80-2
Class ZV.
CRIMES OF ETIL SPEAK¬
ING.
ORDER MIXED.
1. Threatenino Cases.
Obtaining property by
threats to accuse of un¬
natural crimes . . . .
Bending menacing letters
to extort money . . .
Ditto letters threatening to
bum houses, S¿c. . ,
1-1
5-2
1-4
2-1
3-5
+ 1-4
+ 1-0
— 1-7
2-0
2-0
4-1
2-7
2-4
15-2
+ 0-7
+ 0-4
+ 11-1
0-7
1-6
4-3
2-4
2-2
9-8
+ 1-7
+ 0-6
5*0
1-C
IP
7-6
Total Threatening Cases .
6-3
7-0
+ 0-7
8-1
20-3
+ 12-2
6-e
14-4
+ Th
10-;
2. Perjury Cases.
Peijury and subornation of
perjury
17-2
32-1
+ 14-9
21-8
54-0
+ 32-2
*
24-9
88-3
+ 13-4
31-6
Total Perjury Cases , .
17-2
32-1
+ 14-9
21-8
54-0
+ 32-2
24-9
38-3
+ 13-4
31-6
All Crimes of Evil Speaking
23-9
39-1
+ 15-6
29-9
74-3
+ 44-4
31-5
52-7
+ 21-2
42-1
Class V.
i CRIMES OF POLITICAL
1 PREJUDICE.
J 1. Political Cases.
-High treason and compas¬
sing to Isvy war . . .
jBiot, sédition, (fee. . . .
O o
ó ó
1-9
184-5
+ 1-9
-j-184-6
1-4
30-0
0-0
0-3
— 1-4
— 29-7
10
95-3
0-6
14 8
— 0-4
— 80-5
0-8
65-0
1 Total Political Cases . .
0-0
186-4
+186-4
31-4
0-3
— 31-1
96-3
15-4
— 80-9
65-8
AU Crimes of Political
Prçudice
00
186-4
+ 186-4
81-4
0-3
— 31-1
96-3
15-4
— 80-9
55-t
HOUSE OF COERECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
44T
SUMMARY OF THE PRECEDING TABLES.
A.—Casual Cmmes.
Quinciuennial Ratios from
1834-43.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1844-S3.
Decennial Ratios from
1834-53.
Average
Ratio for
20 years.
caimes,
1834-38.
1839-43.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1844-48.
1849-63.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1844-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
CLASS I.-CASUAL
CRIMES OF FEROCITY
AND MALICE.
1. Murderous cases . . .
2. Homicidal aud Assault
cases
3. Arson cases
4. Destructive cases . . .
168-4
1,385-1
43-6
20-0
199-1
1,219-3
40-3
40-3
4- 35-7
- 165-8
- 3-3
-t- 20-3
197-4
1,012-0
86-3
17-7
205-5
803-4
107-8
21-1
4- 8-1
- 208-6
4- 21-5
4- 3-4
181-9
1,299-4
41-7
30-4
201-6
684-6
97-3
18-9
4- 19-7
- 614-8
4- 55-6
- 11-5
191-61
992-0/
69-5
24-61
All Casual Crimes of Ferocity
and Malice
1,612-1
1,499-0
- 113-1
1,313-4
1,137-8
- 175-6
1,553-7
1,002-4
- 551-3
1,207-7
CLASS II.-CASUAL
CRIMES OF CUPIDITY
AND TEMPTATION.
1. Breach of trust cases .
967-9
1,437-9
+ 480-0
1,427-2
1,425-1
- 2-1
1,216-1
1,426-4
4- 210-3
1,321-2
All Casual Crimes of Cu¬
pidity and Temptation .
957-9
1,437-9
-1- 480-0
1,427-2
1,425-1
- 2-1
1,216-1
1,426-4
4- 210-3
1,321-2
CLASS III.-CASUAL
/ CRIMES OF LUST,
SHAME, INDECENCY,
&c.
1. Lustful cases ....
2. Shame cases . . . .
3. Indecent cases....
4. Cases against Marriage
Laws
5. Unnatural cases . . .
126-4
29-1
13-6
28-0
62-0
142-4
33-9
5-9
44-2
57-7
4- 16-0
4- 4-8
- 7-7
4- 16-2
- 4-3
155-8
40-3
4-5
46-4
71-7
155-6
45-0
1-4
46-1
65-1
- 0-2
4- 4-7
- 3-1
- 0-3
- 16-6
134-7
31-5
9-6
36-4
59-8
155-7
42-7
2-3
46-2
63-1
4- 21-0
4- 11-2
- 7-3
4- 9-8
4- 3-3
145-2
37-1
6-9
41-3
61-4
All Casual Crimes of Lust,
Shame, Indecency, and
Perverted Appetite . . .
259-1
284-1
4- 25-0
318-7
303-2
- 15-5
272-0
310-0
4- 38-2
290-9
Total of all Casual Crimes .
2,829-1
3,221-0
4- 391-9
3,059-2
2,856-6
- 192-2
3,041-5
2,738-8
- 302-7
2,819-8
B.—Habitual Crimes.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1834-43.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1844-53.
Decennial Ratios from
1834-53.
1
4
Average
Ratio for
20 years.
Crimes.
1834-38,
1839-43.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1844-48.
1849-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1844-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
CLASS I.—HABITUAL
CRIMES OF FERO¬
CITY AND MALICE.
'
1. Burglary cases....
2. Highway-robbery cases
3. Piracy cases ....
4. Smuggling cases . . .
5. Poaching cases . . .
6. Escapes from custody
cases
683-1
263-1
0-2
5-9
77-7
13-1
967-3
274-4
2-9
3-6
79-6
16-9
4- 284-2
4- 11-3
4- 2-7
1-3
4- 1-9
4- 3-8
778-7
230-6
4-0
-04
66-6
14-8
801-3
285-3
-02
1-6
80-0
14-3
4- 22-6
4- 54-7
- 3-98
4- 1-64
4- 11-4
- 0-6
830-0
269-0
1-6
4-7
78-6
15-1
790-3
258-4
2-0
0-9
73-5
14-6
- 39-7
- 10-6
4- 0-4
3-8
6-1
0-6
801-1
263-7
18
2-8
71-01
1
14-8!
All ffabitucU Crimes of Fe¬
rocity and Malice . . .
1
1,043-1
1,344-7
4- 301-6
1,094-74
1,182-62
4- 87-78
1,199-0
1,139-6
- 69-4
i
l,165-2|
448
THE ÜKEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
SUMMARY OF THE PRECEDING TABLES.
B.—Habitual Crimes—Continued.
Cbdiks.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1834-4S.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1844-S3.
Decennial Ratios from
1834-53.
1834-38.
1839-43.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1844-48.
1849-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1841-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
Ratio for
20 years.
CLASS 11.-HABITUAL
CRIMES OF CUPIDI¬
TY & TEMPTATION.
1. Cattle stealingand simi¬
lar cases
2. Larceny cases . . . .
3. Petty cases
4. Receiving cases . . .
•5. Forgery cases . . . .
6. Coining cases . . . .
7. Other felony and mis¬
demeanour cases . .
333T
9,400-9
66-6
742-7
2-4
236-9
64-5
381-4
10,974-4
94-1
889-4
8-0
248-9
107-4
-(- 48-3
+ 15,73-5
-h 87-5
-1- 146-7
+ 5-6
-1- 14-7
+ 41-9
264-9
10,199-4
106-0
745-2
1-7
216-6
82-8
219-7
9,568-3
89-0
805-9
7-9
340-3
52-0
- 45-2
- 631-1
- 17-0
+ 59-7
+ 6-2
-i- 123-7
- 30-8
358-1
10,214-1
76-1
818-6
7-3
242-7
86-7
241-7
9,874-9
97-3
776-5
4-5
280-2
66-9
+
+
116-4
339-2
21-2
42-1
2-7
37-5
19-8
299-9
10,044-5
86-7
797-5
5-9
261-4
76-8
Att HaMtual Crimes of Cu-
pidit]/ and Temptation .
10,834-1
12,703-6
-1-1,869-5
11,616-6
11,083-1
- 533-5
11,803-6
11,342-0
-
461-6
11,572-7
CLASS III.-HABITUAL
CRIMES OF LUST,
SHAME, INDECENCY
1. Keeping disorderly
houses
2. Abortion cases. . . .
97-4
3-6
106-6
3-3
-1- 9-2
0-3
66-4
2-0
50-3
4-0
- 16-1
-1- 2-0
102-2
3-5
58-2
4-1
+
44-0
0-6
80-2
3-8
ÄU Habitual Crimes of Lust,
Shame, Indecency, and
Perverted Appetites . .
101-0
109-9
-f- 8-9
68-4
54-3
- 14-1
105-7
62-3
43-4
84-0
Total of all Habitual Crimes
11,978-2
14,158-2
-1- 2,180-0
12,779-7
12,319-9
- 459-8
13,108-3
12,543-9
"
564-4
12,811-9
SUMMARY OF MIXED CRIMES.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1834-43.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1844-53.
Decennial Ratios from
1834-53.
Cams.
1834-38.
1839-43.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1844-48.
1849-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1844-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
Averaiîe
Ratio for
20 years.
>
1
CLASS IV.-CR1ME8 OF
EVIL SPEAKING.
1. Threatening cases . .
2. Perjury cases ....
6-3
17-2
7-0
32-1
-I- 0-7
-f- 14-9
8-1
21-8
20-3
54-0
-1- 12-2
-t- 32-2
6-6
24-9
14-4
38-3
-f 7-8
-4 13-4
I
Î
10-5
31-6
All Cases of Evil SpeaJt-
ing
23-5
39-1
15-6
29-9
74-3
+ 44-4
81-5
52-7
+ 21-2
42-1!
CLASS V.-CRIMES OF
POLITICAL PREJU¬
DICE.
Political cases
0-0
186-4
-1- 186-4
31-4
0 3
- 31-1
96-3
15-4
- 80-9
55-8
AM Casesof Political Pre¬
judice
0-0
186-
-t- 186-4
31-4
0-3
- 31-1
96 3
15-4
- 80-9
55-81
Totalofall Mixed Crimes
23-5
225-5
-1- 202-0
61-3
74-6
-1- 13-3
127-8
68-1
- 59-7:
97-9¡
Gross Total of cdl Crimes
14,832-8
17,604-7
-H 2,771-9
15;850-3
15,261-2
- 649-7
16,277-6
15,360-8
- 926-8
<29 6
HOUSE OF COEEECTIOÍT, ÏOTHILL FIELDS. 449
GENEEAL 8UMMAEY.
OaiuES.
Quinquennial Ratios from
1831-43.
Quinquennial Ratios bom
1844-33.
Decennial Ratios from
1834-33.
Average
1334-38.
1839-43.
Increase
01-
Decrease.
1844-48.
1849-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
1834-43.
1844-53.
Increase
or
Decrease.
Ratio for
20 years.
CLASS I.
CRIMES OF FEKOCITT
AND MALICE.
Casual
Habitual
1,612-1
1,043-1
1,499-0
1,344-7
- 113-1
-1- 301-6
1,313-4
1,094-74
1,137-8
1,182-52
+
175-6
87-78
1,553-7
1,199-0
1,002-4
1,139-6
—
551-3
59-4
1,207-7
1,155-2
Total
2,655-2
2,843-7
+ 188-5
2,408-14
2,320-32
—
87-82
2,752-7
2,142-0
—
610-7
2,362-9
CLASS IL
CRIMES OF CUPIDITY
AND TEMPTATION.
Casual
Habitual
957-9
10,834-1
1,437-9
12,703-6
+ 480-0
+1,869-5
1,427-2
11,616-6
1,425-1
11,083-1
—
2-1
533-5
1,216-1
11,803-6
1,426-4
11,342-0
+
210-3
461-6
1,321-2
11,572-7
Total
11,792-0
14,141-5
+ 2,349-5
13,043-8
12,508-2
—
535-6
13,019-7
12,768-4
—
251-3
12,893-9
CLASS III.
CRIMES OF LUST,
SHAME, INDECENCY,
&c.
Casual
Habitual
259-1
101-0
284-1
109-9
+ 25-0
+ 8-9
318-7
68-4
303-2
54-3
—
15-5
14-1
272-0
105-7
310-0
62-3
+
38-2
43-4
290-9
84-0
Total
860-1
393-0
+ 33-9
387-1
357-5
—
29-6
377-7
372-3
—
5-6
374-C-
CLASS IV.
CRIMES OF EVIL-
SPEAKING.
1 23-5
39-1
+ 15-6
29-9
74-3
+
44-4
31-5
62-7
+
21-2
42-1
CLASS V.
CRIMES OF POLITICAL
PREJUDICE.
1 0-0
186-4
+ 186-4
31-4
0-3
—
31-1
96-3
15-4
—
80-9
55-8
ALL CLASSES OF
CRIMES.
Casual
Habitual
Mixed
2,829-1
11,978-2
23-5
3,221-0
14,158-2
225-5
+ 391-9
+ 2,180-0
+ 2020
3,059-3
12,779-7
61-3
2,856-1
12,319-9
74-6
+
193-2
459-8
13-3
3,041-5
13,108-3
127-8
2,738-8
12,543-9
68-1
—
302-8
564-4
59-7
2,819-8
12,811-9
97-9
AU Crimes ....
14,830-8
17,604-7
+ 2,773-9
15,900-3
15,250-6
—
666-3
16,277-6
15,350-8
— 926-9
15,729-6
Now, the preceding table shows the following general results (drawn from an average of
the last twenty years) as regards the number of offenders annually committed for trial
throughout England and Wales:—
First, with respect to the different classes of criminals, we find—
1. There are 15*7 criminals, of sdl kinds, to every 10,000 of our population.
2. Not less than 12-8 of these 15-7 individuals belong to the habitual class of
offenders, or those who make a regular trade of crime, whilst 2-8 appertain to the
casual class, and barely 1 to the mixed class.
Secondly, with respect to the morcase or decrease of the different classes of criminals, we perceive
1. There has been a slight decrease of the whole during the last decenniad,
though this decrease amounts to a reduction of only 0-9 in the ratio, so that little or
no impression appears to have been made upon the criminal tendencies of the people
by all our late educational and reformatory movements.
33'
450
THE GKEAT "WORLD OF LONDON.
2. The habitual class of crimmals has decreased 0"5 in the course of the last ten
years, the casual criminals 0'3, and the mixed 0-05.
Thirdly, concerning the several hinds of crime of which the various classes of criminals are
accused, it will he seen—
1. Out of the before-mentioned ratio of 15*7 criminals to every 10,000 of our
people, no less than 12'89 are committed for crimes of "cupidity and temptation"
(such as theft, fraud, forgery, coining, &c.); whilst as many as 11-57 of these
belong to the habitual class of thieves, and only 1-32 to the casual ditto.
2. There are 2-36 in every 10,000 of the population who are annually charged
with crimes of " ferocity and malice and of these one-half belong to the casual, and
the other half to the habitual class of offenders.
3. There are, on the other hand, only 0'37 individuals per 10,000 of the people
charged every year with crimes of lust, shame, indecency, &c., of whom 0*29 belong
to the casual class, and only 0'08 to the habitual.
4. The remaining 0-09 (out of the 15-7 criminals of all classes) are annually
accused of crimes of evil-speaking (such as threatening, or false swearing), or of
political prejudice (as high treason, riot, &c.)
Fourthly, as regards the increase or decrease of ths several hinds of crime, we may observe—
1. Whilst all classes of criminals have decreased 0-9 in each 10,000 of the people,
those annually accused of the casual crimes of "ferocity and malice" have decreased,
during the last ten years, to the extent of 0-5 ; the main reduction having taken
place in the homicidal and assault cases, whereas a slight increase has ensued in the
more serious, murderous, and arson cases. Those, however, indulging in the habitual
crimes of ferocity and malice (such as burglary, highway robbery, &c.) have also
experienced a slight diminution—equal to 0'06 in each 10,000 of the population.
2. Those accused of the casual crimes of "cupidity and temptation" (such as
larceny by servants, embezzlement, forging of cheques or hüls, stealing post letters,
or goods in the process of manufacture) have increased to altogether 2 in every
10,000 of the people—the greater proportion of this increase having occurred among
servants accused of larceny. Those committed, however, for the habitual crimes of
the same class have experienced a small decrease among their numbers, including,
more particularly, the crimes of cattle, horse, and sheep stealing, as weU as that of
simple larceny; whilst the crimes of larceny from the person, and in a dwelling-
house, as well as misdemeanours, and frauds, and uttering base coin, have, more or
less, increased—the greatest augmentation being among the perpetrations of the pro¬
fessional pickpockets.
3. Those accused of the casual crimes of " lust, shame, and indecency," have likewise
increased to a small amount, viz., 0 03 in each 10,000 of the population—^the largest
addition having occurred among those annually charged with rape, sodomy, &c. ;
whilst the crimes of concealment of birth and bigamy have all suffered a trifling
extension of the ratio. With the habitual crimes of the same class, such as brothel-
keeping and procuring abortion, there has been a trifling diminution.
4. The crimes of " evil-speaking" show no decrease whatever ; indeed, the numbers
charged with using threats, in order to extort money, have more than doubled them¬
selves within the last ten years; and those accused of perjury have likewise increased
considerably—more than 50 per cent.
5. Crimes of " political prejudice" (such as high treason and sedition), on the other
hand, have diminished as much as those of evil-speaking have augmented among us.
After the above exposition of the several kinds of crime and classes of criminals, it is,
perhaps, needless to recur to the fallacy that crime fluctuates with the varying prosperity
HOUSE OF COERECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
451
of our people. To place the matter, however, beyond the possibility of doubt, we have
drawn up the following diagram, in which the annual alterations in the ratio of criminals
to the population admit of being readily compared with the variations in the average price
of corn for a series of years, which is sufficiently long to enable us to see whether there be
any truth or not in the principle :—
TEAES.
Number of -—— — Average Price
Criminala to 1834. 35.
every 10,000 of
the Population.
19- .
36. 37. 88. 39. 40. 41. 42, 43. 44. 45. 46. ••47..Ï4S.-
18-5 ...
18- ...
17-5 ...
17- ...
lG-5 ...
16- ...
15-5 ...
15' ...
14-5 ...
14- ...
!
1
\
1
I
/
\
/
/
/
\
i\
/
/
\
./
/
N
y'
V
/
/
7
\
/
/
\
\\
\\
/
\
/
"49. of Corn
in ShiUinga,
per Quarter.
5
80
5
70
5
60
5
50
5
40
niAGEAM SHOWING THE EELATIVE ELUCTUATIONS IN THE PEICE OF COEN AND THE EATIO
OF CRIMINALS TO THE POPULATION, FEOM THE TEAR 1834 TO 1849.
(The dotted line indicates the price of corn, and the black line the ratio of criminality.)
Here it wiU be seen that in the year 1842, when the ratio of criminals was as high as 19 J
to every 10,000 of the people, com was comparatively low in price ; for though it had been
nearly 70«. the quarter in 1839, it had gradually fallen to less than 60s. in 1842. During
the same period, however, crime had been as gradually rising, having been only 15| in 1839,
and, as we said, 19| in 1842.
Again, in the year 1845, when the ratio of criminals had sunk to less than 14j in every
10,000 of the population, com had been gradually rising from 1843, and had again reached
the same price as it was in 1842. Further, in 1847 com had risen to the very high price of
85«. the quarter, and yet crime in the same year was comparatively low—the ratio being
then but 15 8 per 10,000 people.
Thus, then, we find that when in 1842 crime was very high, the price of com was
moderately low; whilst in 1847, when corn was dear, crime was comparatively rare
among us.*
• We subjoin the ratio of criminals throughout England and Wales to every 10,000 people during the
last twenty years :—
No. or CniMiNALS
tek 10,000 People. Veaes.
16-5 1844
141 1845
14'0 1846
15-6 1847
15-1 1848
15-7 1849
17-2 1850
17-4 1851
19-3 1852
181 1853
16'1 Annual meau
Teabs.
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
Annual mean
No. of Cbiuikals
Feb 10,000 People.
160
14-4
14-7
15-8
17-4
15-8
151
15-5
151
14-7
31-3
452
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDOH.
The number of able-bodied paupers relieved throughout England and Wales for a series
of years would show the same results. Indeed, the oiúy rational conclusion to be arrived
at—and it is the one to which we have come after testing statistically, we repeat, almost
every theory on the subject that has been propounded—is, that the great mass of crime is a
trade and profession among us, and that those forms of dishonesty which make up nearly
four-fifths of the delinquencies of the country are practised as a means of living by certain
classes, as regularly as honesty is pursued for the same purpose by others.*
Nor can we explain the continual existence of so large an amoimt of iniquity in the
land, other than by the fact of the offenders being regularly bom and bred to the business.
Not only in our juvenile prisons do we see the future bandits and ultimate convicts of the
country, but we see also the bitter results of the State's gross neglect of its parental duties
to the outcast and destitute children among us. Twist and tum the question as we may,
we shall find at length—if we come to the matter reaUy willing to fathom and eager to
embrace the truth of this most vital problem—that habitual crime is purely the conse¬
quence of want of proper fatherly care to the young ; and this is demonstrated to us by
the fact, that in those countries where the education of aU children is enforced by law, and
the young are thus made to pass the principal part of their time under the eyes of a teacher
and adviser—if not a guardian and a friend—^the national records show a less comparative
amount of crime than in those nations where the youthful poor, as with us, are allowed to
remain gambolling as well as gambling all the day in the gutter with feUow-idlers and
profligates, if not thieves. This is the sole reason to be cited why in Holland and Pmssia,
and even Catholic Belgium, there are less criminals, in proportion to the population, than
with us; for though the teaching of reading and writing in our prisons is shown by
figures to be almost unavailing as a means of reformation—and even reformation itself to be
extremely difficult, unless accompanied with expatriation and the consequent removal of the
yotmg offender from the intercourse and temptations of his former associates—^nevertheless,
by a large system of national education, the destitute and outcast children of the land
would be rescued from idleness and the pollution of the streets, and would pass the greater
part of their time in connection with those whose express duty it would be to counsel and
train them to industry and virtue.
Again, therefore, we say we have little faith in prison teaching, or even national
reformatories, as a means of decreasing the offenders of the country. Crime, in its habitual
form, seems to us as radically incurable as lock-jaw or confirmed consumption, or the kindred
disease known as noU-me-tangere. The only hope is to prevent juvenile delinquency ; and as
even the cholera itself can be warded off by due ventilation and cleanliness—^being but a
physical scourge from the Almighty, in punishment for the national neglect of the dwellings
and comforts of the poor—so is crime but a moral pestilence, ordained by God to rouse us to
our duty to those wretched little actual or virtual orphans, whom, for some inscrutable
reason. He has willed to begin life as outcasts among us.f
• This is further proved by the large proportion oí "known" offenders who are re-committed to our
prisons in the course of the year. "We have before diown (see table, p. 410) that these constitute, at least,
one-quarter of the gross prison populafion ; so that, supposing the "not known" habitual offenders con¬
fined in our prisons to be only as numerous as the "known" ones, it is obvious that one-half of our
criminals are regular jail-birds, to whom theft is a business, and the prison a refuge.
t "We cannot conclude this accoimt of the juvenile prison and juvenile prisoners at Tothill Fields vrith-
out drawing attention once more to the fact, that the criminal period of life appears to be between fifteen and
twenty-five years of age—the time, as we have said, when the will comes to be developed, and has not yet
learnt to be guided and controlled by the reason. At page 117, while treating of Pentonville prison, we pointed
out the circumstance that 66'7 prisoners in every 100 were between seventeen and twenty-five years of age.
And again, at page 377, in the table showing the per centage of juvenile offenders throughout England and
Wales, we showed that only 10*15 in every 100 persons were (according to the average of the last thirteen
years) under seventeen, and as many as 89*85 per cent, above that age ; whereas the last census returns
HOUSE GE COEEECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
453
Of the Female Prison at Tothill Fields, and Female Prisoners generally.
From the juvenile prison at "Westminster, and the consideration of juvenile crime in the
abstract, we pass to the female portion of the same institution, as well as to the more
general subject of crime among women.
prove that the centeaimal proportion of all classes of persons of the same ages is as 39'2 to 60*8; so that
whilst the juvenile offenders are nearly 30 per cent, below the ratio of the entire, population, the adult
prisoners are nearly the same amount above it.
This fact had long ago been noticed by Mr. Redgrave in the Government returns. " The comparison of
the ages of offenders, with the population of the same age," said that gentleman in the year 1842, " shows
the great proportion of offenders between the age of fifteen and twenty-five years, and how rapidly that
proportion declines after the age of thirty, becoming less than the proportion in the general population after
forty, and falling suddenly off at each period, on passing that age." " It has been shown," he added in the
next year's report, " by the calculations prefixed to former tables, that the centesimal proportion of the ages
of offenders in the seven years ending witii 1841, had not varied above 1 per cent, in any one of the periods
under which the ages had been classed. In 1842 this classification was altered to assimilate it to the quin¬
quennial classification adopted in the general census ; but by this change the comparison with the previous
years was lost." Hence the tables of the ages of those committed for trial do not extend very far back, nor
have they been continued of late years ; nevertheless, those already printed furnish us with a sufdciently
large series of years to establish tíie law, that the great mass of crime in this country is committed by
men—those, in fact, who, having passed their apprenticeship as juvenile offenders, have entered upon their
habitual career—" the duration of which," says Mr. Redgrave, " may be inferred from the rapidly-decreasing
proportions which those above forty years of age bear to the population at the same period of life."
In the tables of 1848 we have the last returns as to the ages of those committed for trial, and here we
find it stated that " the ages of criminals had for several years progressively shown an mcreased proportion of
the younger criminals. The apparent sudden decrease, last year, of offenders under the ages of fifreen, must
be attributed to the operation of the statute 10 and 11 Vic., c. 82, passed in July, 1847, which empowers
justices to pimish summarily for simple larceny offenders whose ages do not exceed fourteen years, thus
removing many of such cases from the criminal tables, in which they had previously appeared as indictable
offences"—but correspondingly increasing the summary convictions. " The relative state of the commitments,
with respect to the ages of the criminals, is clearly exhibited in the subjoined table, which gives the relative
proportion of accused per 100 committed, and is not disturbed by the fiuctuations in the absolute numbers
sent for trial. From this table it appears that nearly one-half the commitments in 1848 were of persons
between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five.
Âges.
Âged under 15 years
15 and under 20 years
»
I)
»
»
>»
»
20
25
30
40
50
»
»
71
17
77
25
30
40
50
60
60 years and above
Ages not ascertained
Centesimal Froportion in the Tears.
1842.
1843.
1844.
1845.
1846.
1847.
1848.
Census
of 1841
5-3
5-7
60
6-4
6-5
61
3'6
360
22-0
22-7
23-3
24-1
24-5
24-2
23-8
9-9
24-7
24-3
24-1
24-2
23-3
230
25-2
9-7
15-3
14-9
14-9
14-3
14-6
14-7
15 4
8-0
16-8
16-4
15-3
15-6
15-8
16-7
16-8
12-9
8-3
81
8-3
8-2
8-4
8-5
8-6
9-6
3-8
3-5
39
3-6
3-4
3-6
3-4
6-4
1-8
1-9
2-0
1-7
1-8
1-8
1-7
7-2
•
20
2-5
2-2
1-9
1-7
1-4
1-5
0-3
Thus, then, we perceive that whilst the proportion of offenders under fifteen years and over forty is far
below those of the ratio for the entire population of the ooimtry, the proportion, on the other hand, of the
offenders ahove fifteen and imler forty is considerably above it. In the year 1848, for instance, those between
fifteen and twenty-five years of age who were sent for trial made up exactly 49 per cent, of the whole com¬
mitments; whereas, according to the census returns, there are only 19-6 per cent, of persons of that age
throughout the country, whilst those between twenty-five and forty years old constituted 32-2 per cent, of the
gross committals, and only 20*9 per cent, of the entire population. Aboye forty, hCweyer, Üie proportions
454
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
As a body, -woinen are considerably less criminal than men. We know not whether this
be due to the fact of the female nature being more kindly or less daring than that of the
male ; but so it is—the returns of the country, for a long series of years, showing tiiat in
every 100 prisoners there are but some 20 odd women ; so that males would appear to
be, at least, four times more vicious than females ; for, according to the tables in the
census, there is a greater proportion of the latter than the former in the country; and
therefore, if the criminal tendencies were equal in either sex, our criminal records should
exhibit a greater number of women than men annually accused of crime.
Moreover, if it could be possible to obtain accurate returns as to the number of "public
women" throughout the coxmtry, it would be found that by far the greater proportion of
the female offenders is derived from that class ; and thus it would be proven, that among the
chaste portion of the female sex crime is comparatively unknown.
There would appear, then, to be, generally speaking, but one great vice appertaining to
the gentler sex, viz., prostitution ; and the reason of this would seem to be two-fold. The
great mass of crime in the country we have shown, by an analysis of the Government
returns, to be pursued regularly as a means of subsistence by criminals. Hence, what
theft is to the evil-disposed among men, street-walking is to the same class among women—
an easy mode of living ; so that those females, among the poorer classes of society, who are
born to labour for their bread, but who find work inordinately irksome to their natures, and
pleasure as inordinately agreeable to them, have no necessity to resort to the more daring
career of theft to supply their wants, but have only to trade upon their personal charms in
order to secure the apparent luxury of an idle life.
The truth of this is proven by M. Parent du Chatelet, in his work upon the " Femmes
were reversed, there being but 15'2 per cent, of persons committed at a more advanced age, and as many as
23'5 per cent, of the entire population at the same period of life.
As regards the districts contributing the greater proportion of young criminals, we have the following
information in the Government tables of 1843 :—
" The comparative ages in the ten most agricultural and the ten most manufacturing and mixed counties
show the earlier commencement of crime in the manufacturing than in the agricultural counties, and—as
proved by the diminished proportion of criminals between the age of twenty and twenty-five years—its
shorter career.
Manufacturing
Agricultural
Districts.
Districts.
Aged under 15 years . . .
4-8
„ 15 and under 20 year.;-
. . 24-6
21-
„ 20
))
25 „
24-2
26-9
„ 25
n
30 „
. . 151
15-6
„ 30
40 „
. 16-3
17-6
„ 40
>>
50 „
. 8-2
8-5
„ 50
60 „
. . 3-5
3-3
,, 60 years and above . .
. . 1-5
2-3."
Here, then, we find that the proportion of offenders under twenty years of age is nearly per cent, less
in the agricultural districts than in the manufacturing ; whereas, between the ages of twenty and forty, the
proportion is reversed, being 4J per cent, less in the manufacturing than in the agricultural parts.
" This variation," says Mr. Redgrave, "may he affected by the early employment of children in manu¬
factures, or even by the occupations and consequent habits of their parents." "We are, however, inclined to
believe that the cause of the difference may, with greater probability, be traced to the prevalence of large
towns in the manufacturing districts and the early street-association among the children of the poor, as well
as the greater facilities in cities for disposing of the metal and the other produce of petty robberies at the marine-
store shops. This view, indeed, appears to be borne out by the table printed at p. 404, in which it is shown,
by an average of five years, that the greater number of juvenile offenders come from Northumberland (in
which Newcastle is situate), Somerset (of which Bristol is the chief town), Surrey (with which the Metro¬
polis is connected), Norfolk (of which Norwich is the capital, as *it were), Warwick (to which Birmingham
belongs), Middlesex (the great metropolitan county), and Gloucester (the county for the city of that name),
in all of which the proportion of young criminals is found to be above the average.
SEPAEATE WASHING CELL,
IN THE FEMALE PRISON AT THE CITY HOÜSE OF CORRECTION, HOLLOWAT.
HOUSE or CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
455
PvhUques^' of Paris, wherein he shows not only that the large majority of the street¬
walkers come from the working-classes, hut that the greater proportion are derived from the
class pursuing the most irksome form of all labour, as well as subject to the greatest temp¬
tations—domestic servants. Again, those engaged in the ill-paid business of needlework,
as well as with the vanities of dress-making, or theatrical employment, alike serve to swell
the ranks of the "unfortunates;" for in each and all of these classes the payment is not
only small, but the alltirements are great—from the servant, who daily contrasts the com¬
parative luxury and ease of her mistress's life with the hardships of her own, to the milliner,
who longs to be able to wear the fine things she is ever engaged in making for others, and
the actress, who has leamt to crave for admiration as part of the very business of life.
The other reason why prostitution constitutes the chief delinquency of the female sex, is
because the indulgence in it demands the same insensibility to shame on the part of
woman as dishonesty in man. Mandevüle, long ago, showed that society was held to¬
gether chiefiy by the love of approbation and dread of disapprobation among mankind ;
and, though the philosopher endeavomed to prove, what is obviously absurd, that there is
no right nor wrong, except such matters as have come, by general consent, to be universally
praised or blamed, nevertheless, all must admit, that the desire to be admired, and the
disinclination to be despised, which exists in the breast of all people, is one of the most
important instruments in the machinery of human society.
Indeed, it is this continual fear of what the world wül say—this ever-active sensibUity
as regards public opinion—the perpetual craving for credit and reputation and standing
among the various classes of people—that prompts and keeps the great mass of mankind to
righteous courses, far more than any moral sense or any aspiration to fashion their actions
according to the standard of the Great Exemplar and Teacher ; for the eye, which men fancy
to be ever watching and weighing their conduct, is that of this same public opinion rather
than of All-perfection and Justice. An external standard of admiration, instead of an
internal principle of righteousness, rules the world—a dread of shame among men, rather
than an innate ^ed of what is iniquitous—^whilst what is termed civilization consists
principally in the av.'elopment of human vanity to an inordinate degree; and hence the
polite and artificial form of society, though apparently more moral, is assuredly more false
and dishonest than the natural and barbaric mode of life. Nevertheless, what is lost in
truthfulness and spontaneous rectitude is gained in the general welfare by the common
conformity to those principles of decency and virtue which moral fashion prescribes for the
guidance of such as have little internal principle to dictate and govern their own conduct.
Shame, therefore, in such a condition of social existence, becomes one of the great means
of moral government in a State ; so that to exhibit a callousness to the feeling, is to lapse,
as it were, into the savage form of life, and to proclaim that our actions are no longer
controlled by a consideration for the thoughts and feelings of our neighbours ; and hence it
is that other men feel naturally disinclined to place trust in such as have rendered themselves,
by some base or mean act, subject to the opprobium of their fellows ; whilst they who have
done so, having once lost caste in the world and broken the ice of shame, get to be as
desperate and reckless as sinking drowning men, and to be ultimately absorbed in the whirl¬
pool of infamy and crime.
If, however, such be the result with men, the effect of the violation of this great social
principle must be even more strongly marked in women—owing to the sense of sbamp being
naturally more acute in the gentler than in the sterner sex. Some philosophers have classed the
love of approbation as an elementary propensity of human nature. It seems to us, however,
that human beings like praise, simply because the admiration of others serves to increase their
self-esteem, or, in other words, to exalt the admiration of themselves—^for this self-esteem is
essential not only to our happiness, but to our existence itself. It is of the highest import¬
ance for our welfare, for instance, that we should have faith in our own powers, since none
456
THE GREAT "WORLD OF LOHDOH.
can be of such use to us as we can to ourselves. But those whose powers are the weakest,
and who are, therefore, the most diffident as to their own endowments, not only require to
have their faith continually sustained, but naturally find the greatest delight in approbation.
Hence it is that the weakest people are the vainest, or most open to fiattery, as weU as
alive to shame ; whilst those who have the greatest confidence in themselves are ever the
proudest, and but little aifeeted even by the contempt of others.
Thus, then, it is that women, being the weaker portion of humanity, are naturally not
only more fond of being admired, but more bashful or morally timid than men ; so that
shame is the great ruling principle of their lives ; whilst those who become callous to it, as
well as reckless as to how their acts are regarded by others, are viewed by the rest of the
world as creatures in whom the brightest feminine qualities have been effaced, and whose
natures and passions are subject to none of the ordinary principles of restraint. The reason,
therefore, why prostitution is the one chief delinquency of the female sex is because it is
the one capital act of shamelessness, and that which consequently fits the creature for the
performance of any other iniquity. Hence we can readily understand how it is that the
great mass of female criminals are drawn from the ranks of the street-walkers of the
country; for, as juvenile delinquency constitutes the apprenticeship of the habitual male
offender, so prostitution is the initiatory stage of criminality among women.
The criminal records of the country, in a measure, corroborate the above remarks.
The gross prison population of the country for 1853, including those summarily con¬
victed, as well as those tried at assizes and sessions, amounted to nearly 100,000 individuals
of both sexes. Of these the numbers for the adult and juvenile prisoners of either sex were
as follows ;*—
Males. Females. Total.
Adults 64,239 22,692 86,931
Juvenile ... . 9,659 1,794 11,453
Total both sexes
73,898 24,486 98,384
The annual mean for a series of years is given below, to avoid depending on particular results :—
Advlts.
Summarily convicted ....
Tried at assizes and sessions ....
Males.
49,054
19,800
Females.
16,256
5,000
Total.
65,310
24,800
Total ....
68,854
21,256
90,110
jcvxnilks.
Summarily convicted
Tried at assizes and sessions
7,577
2,435
1,248
489
8,825
2,924
Total . . . .
10,012
1,737
11,749
All Aoes.
Summarily convicted . ...
Tried at assizes and sessions ....
56,631
22,235
17,504
5,489
74,135
27,724
Total .... . .
78,866
22,993
101,859
The annual mean per centage for the same numbers being
advltb.
Summarily convicted
Tried at assizes and sessions ....
Males.
71-24
28-76
Females.
7647
23-53
Total.
72-47
27-53
Total ....
100-00
100-00
100-00
jvvehileb.
Summarily convicted
Tried at assizes and sessions
75-67
24-33
71-84
28-16
75-11
24-89
Total ....
100-00
100-00
100-00
All Classes.
Summarily convicted .....
Tried at assizes and sessions ....
73-45
26-55
74-15
25-85
73-78
26-21
Total
100-00
100-00
100-00
HOUSE OF CORREOTIOK", TOTHILL FIELDS.
457
And the centesimal proportions, as regards the adults and juveniles, as under ;—
Males. Females. Total.
Adults 86-94 92-07 89-80
Juveniles ..... 13 06 7-33 10-20
100-00 100-00 100-00
Whilst those with respect to the males and females were
Males.
Females..
Total.
Adults
71-43
28-57
100-00
Juveniles .
84-33
15-67
100-00
Total.
72-06
27-94
100 00
But not to rely upon fallacious criteria of any one year, the following decennial table
has been prepared, showing at once the relative numbers and proportions of males and
females of all ages summarily convicted, as well as tried at assizes and sessions throughout
England and Wales:—
TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBERS AND PER CBNTAQE3 OP MALE AND FEMALE OFPENDEES SUMMARILY
CONVICTED AND TRIED AT SESSIONS AND ASSIZES, FROM 1841 TO 1850, BOTH INCLUSIVE.
Tears.
Summarily Convicted.
Tried at Assizes and Sessions.
All Classes.
Numbers.
Per Centage.
Numbers.
Per Centage.
Numbers.
Per Centage.
Males.
Fem.
Males.
Fem.
Males.
Fem.
Males.
Fem.
Males.
Fem.
Males.
Fem.
1841
184-2
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
Annual Mean
47,629
54,784
57,361
55,605
50,688
48,261
50,481
64,574
69,522
61,645
15,667
15,723
15,835
1.5,693
1.5,354
16,688
17,000
19,697
21,441
18,963
75-3
77-7
78-4
78-0
76-8
74-4
74-8
76-6
76-5
76-5
24-7
22-3
21-6
22-0
23-2
2-5-6
25-2
23-4
23-5
23-5
21,873
25,523
24,516
21,710
20,117
19,701
22,312
24,199
23,271
21,164
5,212
5,637
5,355
4,972
4,966
5,332
5,827
5,887
5,481
5,299
80-8
81-9
82-1
81-4
80-2
78-7
79-3
80-5
80-9
80-0
19-2
181
17-9
18-6
19-8
21-3
20-7
19-5
191
200
19-4
69,502
80,307
81,877
77,315
70,805
67,962
72,793
88,773
92,793
82,809
24,879
21,360
21,190
20,666
20,320
21,970
22,827
25,584
26,922
24,262
76-9
79-0
• 79-5
78-9
77-7
74-5
76-2
77-6
77-5
77-3
23-1
210
20-5
21-1
22-3
25-5
23 8
22-4
22-5
22-7
56,055
17,201
76-5
23-5
22,439
5,397
80-6
78,494
22,598
77-7
22-3
By this it will be seen that the annual average for the last decenniad has been upwards
of 100,000 offenders; of whom 78,500, or 77f per cent., have been males, and 22,500,
or 22^ per cent., females. Of this number, it will be further observed, 73,000, or nearly
three-fourths, are, upon the average, summarily convicted ; of whom 56,000, or 76J per
cent., are males, and 17,000, or 23| per cent., females; whilst the remaioing 27,800 are
generally committed for trial, and of these about 22,400, or 80| per cent., are males, and
5,400, or 19| per cent., females.
Hence it would appear that the female offenders are, upon the average, between one-
fourth and one-fifth of the male offenders in number ; and that whüst the number of females
summarily convicted is not quite equal to one-fourth of the males, the number of women
committed for trial is not quite one-fifth of the men sent to the sessions. The propor¬
tion of males to females, however, throughout England and Wales, according to the last
census, is as 100 to 105. How, as there are upon an average 15-7 persons annually com¬
mitted for trial out of every 10,000 of the population, it would appear, from the above
returns, that 12-7 of the 15-7 are males, and the remaining 3 females.
458
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
But though this would appear to speak highly in favour of the honour and virtue of the
female portion of oxir race, nevertheless, according to the returns of Mr. Eedgrave, the
criminality of women has been annually increasing among us at a considerable rate for
many years past. In the returns of 1839 that gentleman said, "with respect to the
sexes of criminals, it is worthy of remark that for several years the proportion of females has
been increasing. Comparing the number of males and females, the centesimal proportion
of the latter was, in 1834, 18"8; in 1835, 20'0 ; in 1836 and 1837 it was 21'6 (though
the fraction, if carried further, still shows a small increase in 1837); in 1838, 22'1 ; and
in 1839, 23-2."
Again, in 1844, he drew attention to the fact—"It has been stated in former
tables, that from 1835 to 1840 there had been a gradual increase in the proportion of
females. In 1841 this increase was slightly checked, and in the following year the decrease
in the proportion was considerable. But in 1843 an increase again commenced, and was
succeeded by a further increase in 1844. These fluctuations will be best shown by the
following figures :—
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
No. of Females.
3,571 .
3,456 .
3,736 .
4,205 .
4,189 ,
4,612 .
Proportion to
100 Males.
18-8
20-0
21-6
21-6
22-1
23-2
Proportion to
No. of Females.
100 Males.
1840
. . 5,212 .
. 23-7
1841
.. 5,200 .
. 23-0
1842
.. 5,569 .
. 21-6
1843
.. 5,340 .
. 22-0
1844
.. 4,993 .
. 23-1."
■Whilst in 1852, he added, "the numbers stiU prove a continuance of the proportional
increase of females which has been uninterrupted since 1848," when, as stated above, there
was a slight decrease.
Proportion to
100 Males.
1845
1846
1847
1848
No. of Females.
. 4,962
. 5,257
. 5,930
. 5,763
25-6
26-5
25-9
23-4
Proportion to
No. of Females.
100 Males.
1849
.. 5,401 .
. 24-1
1850
.. 5,265 .
. 24-4
1851
.. 55,69 .
. 24-8
1852
.. 5,625 .
. 25-7
The same eminent authority concluded, in 1853, by remarking that " the increase has been
unusually large this year, the proportion having risen from 25*7 to 29*5 females in
100 males ; while twenty years since it was only 18'8 females to the 100 males.*
Next, as regards the oflences with which the females sent for trial are mostly charged,
we find that these generally consist of what are termed, in the Government returns,
"Oflences against property committed without violence"—^particularly simple larceny,
larceny by servants, and receiving stolen goods (the offences of this class including, in the
year 1846, 88 per cent, of the females committed, and only 77 per cent, of the males). In
indictments for peijury, and for keeping disorderly houses, the females also form a large
proportion. In murder, and attempts to murder, they constitute above one-fourth the com¬
mitments ; in arson, above one-sixth ; but for robbery, burglary, and housebreaking, one-
twelfth only.
Some two or three years ago the following proportions were given by Mr. Eedgrave as
regards the per centage of females included in the different classes of crime :—
* It will be observed that there is a slight difference between the numbers last quoted and those given
in the previous table, concerning the females committed for trial. The numbers in the former instance are
cited ñ'Om Captain 'Williams' report, bearing date, 1866 ; whilst those in the latter ease are after Mr. Bed-
grave's returns. Moreover, the proportions of females to males differ slightly, the female ratios having been
calculated to 100 prisoners of both sexes; whilst in Mr. Bedgrave's returns they are calculated to 100 males.
HOUSE OF COEKECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
459
In offences against the person, such as murder, and attempts
at murder, manslaughter, concealing birth, bigamy,
assaults, &e., the proportion of females was, in 1851, 13-4 to 100 males.
In offences against property, committed with violence, such
as burglary, housebreaking, and highway robbery,
the proportion was 7'7 „
In the same class of crimes, however, committed without
violence, including the offences of simple larceny,
embezzlement, and receiving stolen goods, &c., the
proportion was as high as 28*6 „
In the malicious offences against property, such as arson,
incendiarism, destruction of machinery, &c., and
maiming cattle, the proportion was at its lowest ebb, or 5-1 ,,
In forgery, and offences against the currency, such as
attempting to pass bad money, or forged notes, it rose
again to 23'1 ,,
"Whilst in the miscellaneous offences of high treason,
smuggling, poaching, prison-breaking, pequry, riot,
and keeping disorderly houses, it was not qidte .... 20-* ,,
But the most remarkable feature in the recent history of female crime is the large and
increasing proportion of females annually charged with murder. During the last fifteen
years the numbers and proportions of females accused of this crime have been as foUows :—
In the Five Years.
1835-39
1840-44
1845-49
Males, Females.
223 . 92 or 42 females to 100 males.
221 . 126 „ 57
205 . 160 „ 78
In the subjoined table, however, we have a still clearer view of the enormous in¬
crease of the grave crime of murder among women, and by which it will be seen that
though the proportion of female murderers was, in 1835-39, only 42 in every 100 male
murderers, in 1847 the per centage was not less than 89-4; and, in 1851, it had risen to
124-2; so that whilst the crime of murder among men has been comparatively decreasing,
among women it has been proportionably on the increase :—
Males
Females
accused of murder.
accused of murder.
1842
39
28 or 71-8 females to 100 males
1843
52
33 „ 63-4
>>
}}
1844
46
29 „ 63-0
>)
ff
1845
41
24 „ 58-5
ff
1846
42
26 „ 61-9
)f
ff
1847
38
34 „ 89-4
if
ff
1848
42
34 „ 80-9
ff
ff
1849
42
42 „ 100-0
ff
ff
1850
28
24 „ 85-7
fi
ff
1851
33
41 „ 124-2
ff
ff
• In the year 1841 the following was the proportion of females in the different nWapfl of
ist class (offences against the person) 10-9 per 100 males.
2nd „ (ditto against property, with violence) 6-3 „
3rd „ (ditto ditto, without violence) 26-4
4th „ (malicious offences against property) 8-0
5th „ (offences against the currency) 23-1
6th „ (miscellaneous offences) ig-g
460
THE GREAT WORLD GE LOHDOH.
The next step in our exposition of the phenomena of female crime, is to set forth the
localities in which the criminality among women appears to be greater or less. With this
view we have drawn up the following table, in which the average has been calculated firora
the Government returns for the last ten years:—
TABLE SHOWING THE ANNUAL AVEEA6E PEE CENTAGE OF PEMALES TO MALES COMMITTED FOE
TEIAL IN EACH COUNTY THEOUGHOUT ENGLAND, FEOM 1844 TO 53, BOTH INCLUSIVE,
Counties.
Average annual number com¬
mitted for triaL
Average annual per
centage.
Males.
Females.
Total.
Males.
Females.
Bedford
159-6
21-0
180-0
88-37
11-63
Berks
277-1
46-0
323-1
85-76
14-24
Bucks
253-6
22-4
276-0
91-88
^ 8-12
Cambridge .......
249-1
38-3
287-4
86-67
13-33
Chester
711-1
198-5
909-6
78-18
21-82
Cornwall
199-2
60-4
2596-1
76-73
23-27
Cumberland
101-1
39-3
1404-1
72-01
27-99
Derby
215-4
30-0
245-4
87-77
12-23
Devon
600-3
194-4
794-7
75-54
24-46
Dorset
204-6
43-9
248-5
82-33
17-67
Durham
250-4
65-9
316-3
79-17
20-83
Essex
536-2
69-2
605-4
88-17
11-43
Gloucester
804-4
182-4
986-8
81-52
18-48
Hereford
188-6
43-6
232-2
81-22"
18-71
Hertford ... ...
265-0
27-8
292-8
90-51
9-49
Huntingdon
78-8
13-3
92-1
85-55
14-45
Kent .
761-4
176-7
938-1
81-17
18-83
Lancaster
2408-5
864-9
3273-4
73-58
26-42
Leicester . . ....
286-0
44-7
330-7
86-48
13-52
Lincoln
407-1
87-8
494-9
82-26
17-74
Middlesex
3179-9
1022-3
4202-2
75-67
24-83
Monmouth
238-4
78-8
317-2
73-16
24-84
Norfolk
597-6
111-1
708-7
84-33
15-67
Northampton
243-4
38-2
281-6
86-43
13-57
Northumberland . . . .
182-1
59-9
242-0
75-25
24-70
Nottingham
282-5
44-7
327-2
86-34
13-66
Oxford
250-8
39-0
289-8
86-54
13-46
Rutland
28-8
4-4
33-2
86-74
13-26
Salop
256-1
6-55
321-6
79-63
20-37
Somerset
658-8
143-4
802-2
82-12
17-88
Southampton
562-3
119-1
681-4
82-52
17-48
Stafford
795-7
189-3
985-0
80-79
19-21
Suffolk
451-5
76-1
527-6
85-58
14-42
Surrey
849-0
246-5
1095-5
77-49
22-51
Sussex
392-7
90-9
483-6
81-21
18-79
Warwick
750-7
155-7
906-4
82-82
17-18
Westmoreland ......
43-5
.8-2
51-7
84-14
.15-86
Wilts
361-8
59-6
421-4
85-85
14-16
Worcester
485-8
109-9
595-7
81-56
18-44
York
1518-9
357-1
1876-0
80-96
19-04
North Wales
240-7
61-7.
302-4
79-59
20-41
South Wales
408-2
142-4
550-6
74-14 ;
25-86
Total for England and Wales .
21734-7
5494-8
27229-0
79^82
20-18
EXTERIOR OF THE CITY HOUSE OF CORRECTION AT HOLLOWAY.
HOUSE OF COEEECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
461
Aixanging the counties in their order, according as the per centage of female offenders is
either ahove or below the general average, we have the subjoined result :—
CmmtUs in which the Per Centage of Female Prisoners is Above the Average,
Cumberland
Lancaster .
South Wales
Monmouth
Northumberland
. 27-99
. 26-42
. 25-86
. 24-84
. 24-70
Devon
Middlesex .
Corn-wall .
Surrey-
24-46
24-33
23-27
22-51
Chester
Durham
North Wales
Shropshire
Average for all England and Wales
20-18
. 21-82
. 20-83
. 20-41
. 20-37
Counties in which the Per Centage of Female Prisoners is Below the Average.
Stafford
. 19-21
Southampton
. 17-48
Leicester .
. 13-52
York .
. 19-04
Warwick .
. 17-18
Oxford
. 13-46
Kent .
. 18-83
Westmoreland .
. 15-86
Cambridge .
. 13-33
Sussex
. 18-79
Norfolk .
. 15-67
Butland
. 13-26
Hereford .
. 18-71
Huntingdon
. 14-45
Derby
. 12-23
Gloucester .
. 18-48
Suffolk
. 14-42
Beds .
. 11-63
Worcester .
. 18-44
Berks
. 14-24
Essex
. 11-43
Somerset
. 17-88
Wilts
. 14-16
Hertford
. 9-49
Lincoln
. 17-74
Nottingham
. 13-66
Bucks
. 8-12
Dorset
. 17-67
Northampton
. 13-57
Here, then, w& percei-rè that in the majority of those coun-ties in -which the per centage
of female offenders is inordinately great, that peculiar form of courtship which is termed
"bundling," or some equally loose modification of it, is known to prevail—as in Cumberland,
Northumberland, and Durham, South Wales, North "Wales, and Monmouth, Cornwall, and
Devon, as well as Lancashire, Cheshire, and Shropshire—^the metropolitan county being
also that in which there is the greatest number of prostitutes ; whilst the midland coimties,
as Bucks, Herts, Beds, Cambridge, &c., are those in which the females appear to be the
least criminal.
In the Government returns, Mr. Eedgrave makes an attempt to connect the difference
in the proportion of female crime throughout the different parts of the country, -with the
difference of employment among women.
"As this difference," he says, in the report for 1847, "arises apparently from the
occupations of thé population, the foUo-wing comparison has been made of the commitments
in the chief industrial aud agricultural districts ; and it -will be seen that, except in the
metropolitan county, the greatest proportion of female commitments has taken place in those
counties where females are employed in the rudest and most unfeminine labours : —
Southern Welsh Mining District.—....
184.3.
29-4
1847.
36 9
Northern Mining District.—Cumberland, Northumberland, Durham
29-1
33-6
District of the Woollen and Cotton Mmufadures.—Yorkshire, Lan- \
cashire .J
28-0
30-6
Metropolitan County.—^Middlesex ,
30-8
29-4
Northern Welsh Mining District.—Wales, North ....
18-8
28-4
Ba/rd/uiare, Pottery, and Glass.—Stafford, Warwick, Worcester
19-0
24-9
Smaller Cotton, Woollen, Silk, md Lace Fairies.—Chester, Derby, \
Notts, Leicester j
18-0
23-3
34"
462
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
South and South-Western Agricultwal District.—Sussex, Hants
Wilts, Dorset, Somerset
North-Eastern and Eastern Agricultural District.—Lincoln, Norfolk
Suffolk, Essex ........
Midland Agricultural Counties.—Cambridge, Northampton, Hertford
Bedford, Bucks, Oxford, Berks .....
We are, however, rather inclined to connect female criminality with unchastity, rather
than "rude" employment among women ; and it will, we believe, be found to be generally
true that those counties in which the standard of female propriety is the lowest, or where
the number of prostitutes is the greatest, there the criminality of the women is the
greatest.
We have now but to set forth the ages at which the career of female vice is found to
predominate.
We have before shown (p. 357) that there is, proportionally, less juvenile delinquency
among females than among males; the average per centage of yoimg girls imprisoned
throughout England and Wales being only of the whole of the female prisoners, whilst
the mean proportion of boys is as much as 12| per cent, of the gross numher of male
prisoners. We showed, moreover, that, under twelve years, the young female criminals were
only a fraction more than | per cent, of the female prisoners ; whilst the young male crimi¬
nals of the same age are very nearly 1^ per cent, of the male prisoners ; then, between twelve
and fourteen years of age, the young females are about I5 per cent., and the ymmg males
about 2~ per cent., of the entire number of prisoners belonging to either sex; whereas,
between fourteen and seventeen years of age, the female prisoners are about 5^ per cent.,
and the males 8| per cent., of the whole.
" The returns prove, as might be anticipated," says Mr. Eedgrave, " that females are
not led into the commission of crime so early as males; this probably arises from the
greater parental restraint they are subjected to in early life, as well as from the numbers
who commence an evü course by prostitution—an assumption which would account for the
increased proportion that, after the age of twenty-five, the females bear to the males. The
calculation which follows is made upon the commitments of 1846*:—
Concerning the comparative degree of instruction between the female and the male
Malea.
Females.
Ages of Prisoners.
Numbers.
Centesimal
proportion.
Numbers.
Centesimal
proportion.
Aged under 1.5 years
„ 15 yeai's and under 20
»'20 ,, ,, 25
)) 25 „ „ 30
„30 „ ., 40
„40 „ „ 60
„50 „ „ 60
„ 60 years and above
Ages not ascertained
1,426
4,893
4,674
2,810
3,046
1,632
652
371
346
718
24-65
23-55
14-16
15-35
8-22
3-28
1-87
1-74
214
1,243
1,182
845
926
488
207
85
67
4-07
23-64
22-49
16-07
17 61
9-28
3-94
1-62
1-28
19,850
5,257
• In the " Sixteenth Report of the Inspectors of Prisons," there is a decennial tahle upon the same
Buhject, and including the gross numher of prisoners, hoth summarily convicted as well as tried at assizes
and sessions. Not to depend upon the returns for any one year, we have copied from this table the propor-
I 194 21-2
I 18-5 20-6
I 13-1 14-5."
HOTJSE OF CORRECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS. 463
prisoners of áR ages, we find, by the decennial tables, that the annual mean from 1841
to 1850 was as follows :—
TABI,B SHOWIMO THE AITNUAL MEAN AS TO THE RELATIVE STATE OP INSTRUCTION BETWEEN MALE ANB
FEMALE PRISONERS FOR THE DECENNIAD ENDING) 1850.
state of Instruction.
Numbers.
Per Centage.
Males.
Females.
Males.
Females.
Can neither read nor write
Can read only ....
Can either read or write, or)
both imperfectly . . J
Can read and write well
Superior education .
State of instruction not ascer- )
tained . . . )
26,339
15,752
31,053
4,835
211
303
9,822
6,384
5,847
467
7
71
35-5
20-1
39-6
6-1
0-3
0-4
43-5
28-2
26-0
2-0
0-0
0-4
Total .
78,494
22,598
100-0
100-0
Thus, then, we discover that the female criminals belong to a more ignorant class even
than the males, for we see that upwards of 70 per cent, of the former are unable to write,
whilst but little more than 50 per cent, of the latter are in the same degraded condition.
The results, therefore, that we arrive at from the above elaborate data are—
1. That females, taken in the aggregate, are considerably less criminal than males ; the
entire female prisoners of the coxmtry constituting but little more than 20 per cent., and the
males as much as 80 per cent., of the gross prison population of England and Wales.
2. That female crime—and especially that of murder—has increased among us within
the last twenty years, rising from 18 per cent, in 1835, to 25 per cent, in 1853.
tions as to the ages of the male and female prisoners for 1841 and 1850, as well as the annual mean for the
entire ten years :—
TABLE SHOVriNG) THE RELATIVE AGES OF PRISONERS OF BOTH SEXES SOMMARILT CONVICTED, AS WELL AS COM¬
MITTED FOR TRIAL, IN TEE TEARS 1841 AND 1850, TOGETHER WITH THE ANNUAL MEAN FOR TEN YEARS.
Ages of Prisoners.
1841.
1850.
Annual mean for ten
years.
Males.
Females.
Males.
Females.
Males.
Females.
Aged under 12 years
„ 12 years and under 14 . .
» 14 „ „ 17 . .
,, 17 ,, ,, 21 . .
,, 21 ,, „ 30 . .
,, 30 ,, ,, 45 . .
„ 45 ,, ,, 60
„ 60 years and upwards . .
Ages not ascertained
1-32
2-86
8-53
23-74
33-78
19-55
7-88
1-75
•59
-85
1-54
5-60
24-88
35-45
21-61
8-37
1-64
-60
1-34
2-77
7-59
22-99
33-97
21-44
7-46
2-06
-38
-68
1.29
4-56
22-97
35-88
24-04
7-97
2-26
-35
1-33
2-77
8-68
24-06
32-21
20-78
7-99
1-95
•23
-76
1-32
5-53
24-50
35-73
20-94
8-93
2-24
•05
Total
100-00
100-00
100-00
100-00
100-00
100-00
Here we perceive that under the age of seventeen the male offenders, according to the decennial average,
are 5 per cent, more than the females ; that from seventeen to twenty-one the ratio between the two sexes is
very nearly equal ; whilst from twenty-one to thirty the female prisoners are some 3 per cent, in excess.
We also perceive that there has been a tendency for the number of female prisoners under twenty-one to
decrease—the per centage of those under twenty-one, in the year 1841, having been 32-87, whilst in 1850
the per centage of females below the same age had fallen to 29-50. Between the ages of twenty-one and
thirty scarcely any alteration occurred ; whilst above the age of thirty, the proportion of female committals
has increased nearly 3 per cent, within the last ten years.
464
THE GBEAT WOEU) .OF EONDON.
3. That the cotuities ia which there is an inordinate proportion of female criminals to
males, are those in which there is a low standard of female virtue, or in which the number
of prostitutes is excessive.
4. The crimes to which the female prisoners are mostly prone are those of simple
larceny, larceny by servants, as well as uttering base coin, peijury, and keeping disorderly
houses ; the latter class of crimes being those generally committed by the prostitute class, as
the passing of bad money for the coiners with whom they cohabit, and false swearing in
order to procure the acquittal of their associate thieves.
5. That the female criminals begin their career of crime at a later period of life than the
males, there being a smaller per centage of female prisoners than males below the age of
puberty, and a correspondingly greater proportion after the age of 21 years.
Lastly. That the female criminals belong to a far more ignorant and degraded class than
the males, there being only one-half of the male prisoners who are unable to read or write,
whilst nearly three-fourths of the females are incapable of doing so.
"We have now only to show the number of female criminals in the Metropolis, as well as
to set forth the proportion they bear to the males, in order to ascertain how much greater
is the criminality of the London women than that of the country generally.
The number of females " passing through" the London detentional prisons in the course
of the year would appear to be near upon 3,500 in 9,000 and odd prisoners of both sexes,
as may be gathered from the following returns for 1853, as given in the Nineteenth Eeport
of the Prison Inspectors:—
Number of prisoners passing through the ")
House of Detention, Clerkenwell . . )
Number of prisoners passing through )
Horsemonger Lane prison . . . . )
Number of prisoners passing through)
Newgate .... . . . . j"
Males.
Females.
Total
both Sexes.
5,672
2,291
7,963
2,042
761
2,803
1,575
380
1,955
Proportion of Females
to 100 of gross Prison
Population.
Total passing through the London deten-) 26-9
tional prisons ) ' ' '
In addition to these, there are the prisoners " passing through" the London houses of
correction, and the number of females among these would appear to amount to rather better
than 8,000, out of a gross total of very nearly 25,000 prisoners of both sexes.
Proportion of Females
Total to 100 of gross Prison
Males. Females. both Sexes. Population.
Number of prisoners passing through \
the Middlesex House of Correction, > 9,665 — 9,665
Coldbath Fields )
Number of prisoners passing through the 1
Westminster House of Correction, Tot-> 1,923 6,010 7,933
hiU Fields )
975 365 1,340
City House of Correction, HoUoway . ) '
Number of prisoners passing through the \
Surrey House of Correction, "Wands- > 3,558 1,474 5,032
worth > • )
Number of prisoners passing through the \
City Bridewell, Bridge Street, Black- | 723 256 979
friars . ... )
Total passing through the London cor- ) jg 24 949 32-5
rectional pnsons
HOUSE GE COEEECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
463
To these, again, must be suhjoined the numbers in the metropolitan convict prisons ;
and, according to the Government returns for the year 1854-55, the female convicts would
appear to amount to 860 odd in 5,760 prisoners of both sexes ;—
Proportion of Femalea
Total to 100 of gross Prison
Males. Females, both Sexes. Population.
Humber of prisoners passing through | 925
PentonviUe prison )
Number of prisoners passing through ) 2 451 jgg 2 659
Millbank prison j ' '
Number of prisoners passing through ) gg^ gg^
Brixton prison j
Number of prisoners passing through.) 15^3 1513
Hulks ("Woolwich) j ' '
Total passing through the London con- ) ^ ggg gg2 5 14.9
vict prisons ) ' '
The metropolitan account, therefore, as to the number and per centage of the female
criminals stands thus :—
Number and per centage of females )
passing through the London con- > 862 or 14*9 per cent, of gross prispn pppijlatipn.
vict prisons )
Number and per centage of females )
passing through the correctional J 8,105 ,, 32-5 ,, ,, „
prisons )
Number and per centage of females )
passing through the detentional > 3,432 „ 26'9 ,. ,, „
prisons )
Total 12,399 28-5 ,, ,, „
Thus, then, we perceive that there are upwards of 12,000 female criminals "passing
through " the London prisons in the course of the year, and this out of a gross prison popula¬
tion of 43,000 and odd individuals of both sexes;* and this gives a proportion of 28*5 females
to every 100 prisoners of both sexes, which, it will be seen, by referring to the table at
page 460, exceeds by more than 5 per cent, the proportion of female prisoners for the whole
country. Of the 12,399 females passing through the London prisons, 752, or 6 per cent,
of the whole, are juveniles under the age of 17 years ; whilst the 31,000 and odd males
passing through the same establishments include no less than 19 juveniles in every 100
—a fact which thoroughly agrees with what has been before shown, that the females do
not, generally, commence their criminal career until after the age of puberty. It is, how¬
ever, a somewhat startling fact that the London women make up more than one-tenth of
the gross prison population of the whole country, viz., 12,000 and odd in a gross total of
rather more than 100,000 prisoners.
It now remains for us to state, generally, the characteristics of the London fbmale
criminals, and then to pass on to the exposition of the economy of the female prison at
Westminster.
The most striking peculiarity of the women located in the London prisons is that of
utter and imperturbable shamelessness. Those who are accustomed to the company of
* The reader should he warned that many of these appear more than onoe in the above accounts
those, for instance, at Millbank are transferred to Brixton, and the m^ority of those at Horsemonger Lane to
Wandsworth. The same occurs with the females from Newgate and the House of Detention. Again, many
are recommitted, and so are counted more than once in the correctional and detentional returns for the year.
The total number of distinct or individual female criminals may, perhaps, be 6,000, or half that above stated.
466
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
modest women, and have learnt at once to know and respect the extreme sensitiveness of
the female character to praise or blame, as well as its acute dread of being detected in the
slightest impropriety of conduct, or in circumstances the least unbecoming the sex, and have
occasionally seen the blood leap in an instant into the cheeks, till the whole countenance has
come to be suffused with a deep crimson flush of modest misgiving, and lighted up with all
the glowing grace of innocence itself, and have noted, too, how in such states it seems to be
positive pain to the abashed creature to meet the gaze of any rougher nature than her own—
such persons can hardly comprehend how so violent a change as that which strikes us first
of all in the brazen and callous things we see congregated within the female prisons, can
possibly have been wrought in the feminine character.
Two questions at such times divide the mind : Is shame not mtwrdl to woman—an artifi¬
cial and educated sentiment, rather than an innate and spontaneous one V Or were the
bold-faced women and girls that one beholds, as we pass along the prison work-rooms,
tittering rather than blushing at their infamy, and staring fuU in the face of the stranger, in¬
stead of averting their head in order to avoid his glance—^were these ever modest and gentle-
natured, as those with whom we are in daily intercourse ? Is this the trw female nature,
and that which we know merely the disguised «oApoUte form of it?
There is but one answer to such queries.
Shame is as unnatural to woman as it is for mankind to love their enemies, and to bless
those that persecute them. It is as rmwh an educated sentiment as is the appreciation of the
beautiful and the good, and as thoroughly the result of training as is a sense of decency and
even virtue ; for in the same manner as the conscience itself remains dormant in our bosoms
tiU developed, like the judgment, or indeed any other faculty, by long teaching and
schooling ; so shame itself, though the main characteristic of civilized woman, may continue
utterly unawakened in the ruder forms of female nature.
Many of the wretched girls seen in our jails have, we verily believe, never had the
sentiment educated in them, living almost the same barbarous life as they would, had
they been bom in the interior of Africa ; whilst in others, though the great governing
principle has been partially developed, the poor wretches, by a long course of misconduct,
have become so hardened to the scom and reproofs of their fellow-creatures as to be utterly
barbarized, and left without the faintest twinge of moral sense to restrain their wüd animal
passions and impulses; so that in them one sees the most hideous picture of all human
weakness and depravity—a picture the more striking because exhibiting the coarsest
and rudest moral features in connection with a being whom we are apt to regard as the
most graceful and gentle form of humanity.
And yet they who have studied the idiosyncrasy of these degraded women know
that they are capable, even in their degradation, of the very highest sacrifices for those they
love. The majority of the habitual female criminals are connected with some low brute of
a man who is either a prize-fighter, or cab-driver, or private soldier, or pickpocket, or
coiner, or costermonger, or, indeed, some such character. And for this lazy and ruffian
fellow, there is no indignity nor cmelty they wül not suffer, no atrocity that they are not
ready to commit, and no infamy that they will hesitate to perform, in order tíiat he may
eontinne to live half-luxurioúsly with them in their shame. A virtuous woman's love is
never of the same intensely passionate and self-denying character as marks the affection
of her most abject sister. To comprehend this, we must conceive the wretched woman
shunned by almost all the world for her vice—^we must remember that, in many instances,
she has lost every relative and friend, and that even her parents (whose love and care is
the last of all to cease) have cast her from them, and that she is alone in the great wilderness
of life and care—^friendless at the very time when she needs and longs most for a friend
to protect and console her. "We must endeavour, too, to conceive what must be the feelings
of such a woman for the one person, amid all mankind, who seems to sympathize with her.
PRISON VAN TAKING UP PRISONERS AT THE HOUSE OF DETENTION.
HOUSE OF COEEECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
467
£Vnd who is ready to shield her firom the taunts and cuffs of the world ; for most strange
indeed it is, that those who seem to he the least like women of all, and appear to be the
least loving and self-denying in their natures, should he characterized even in their debase¬
ment by the tenderest attóbute of the female constitution, and remarkable for a love that
is more generous, more devoted, more patient, and more indomitable than any other.
"We once troubled our head with endeavouring to discover what qualities in man partake
of the admirable in the eyes of such women as these. Do they love the half brutes with whom
they cohabit, and from whose hands they bear blow after blow without a murmur, giving
indeed only kisses in return ; and for whose gross comforts they are daily ready to pollute
both their body and soul ?—do they love these fellows, we asked ourselves, for any personal
beauty they fancy them to possess ; or what strange quality is it that makes them prize them
beyond any other being in the world?
We soon, however, discovered that they care little about the looks of their paramours, for
not only are the majority of such men coarse and satyr-like in feature, but these women,
generally speaking, have even a latent contempt for the class of public performers who are
wont to trick their persons out to the best possible advantage. Again, it is. not honour, nor
dignity of character, nor chivalry of nature, nor energy of disposition, nor generosity of tem¬
perament that they think the highest attributes of man ; for the fellows with whom they
cohabit are mean and base to the last degree, selfish as swine, idle as lazzaroni, and ruffianly
oven as savages in their treatment of females.
In a word, it is power and courage that make up the admirable with woman in her
shame; and hence the great proportion of what are termed "fancy men" are either, as
we have said, prize-fighters, or private soldiers, or cab-drivers, or thieves, or coiners, or
indeed fellows who are distinguished either for their strength, or "pluck," or their adven¬
turous form of life.
Another marked peculiarity of the character of the female criminals is the periodical
indnlgence of many of them m violent outbursts of temper, if not fury, and that, too,
without any apparent cause.
We have abeady drawn attention to this striking characteristic while treating of the
female prisons at Brixton and MiUbank, and shown that special canvas dresses, and
indeed strait waistcoats, have to be resorted to, in order to prevent the women, when
subject to these wild fits of passion, from tearing to ribbons every article of dress about
them, and that occasionally they destroy the tables, "windows, and bedding in theb cells,
so that the casements have to be covered with sheets of perforated bon, and even the
shelves to be made of the same material, set into the walls ; whilst not only are the female
prisoners more violent and passionate than the males, but theb language, at such times, is
declared by all to be far more gross and disgusting than that of men in similar cbcumstances.
Hor is it less remarkable that some of the women, who are bable to such outbreaks, wül
occasionaUy, when they feel the fit of fury coming on, ask of theb own accord to be shut up
in a separate cell.
There would appear to be two causes for such wüdness of conduce—the one physical,
and perhaps referable to the same derangement of ftmctions as Esqubol, in his work upon
madness, has sho"wn to be intimately connected with insanity among women ; and the oÜier
moral, in the want of that feeling of shame which, as we have said, is the great controUing
principle "with women, so that the female criminal being left without any moral sense, as it
were, to govern and restrain the animal propensities of her nature, is really reduced to the
same condition as a brute, without the power to check her e"vil propensities.
468
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
^ Ü.—I.
Of the Interior of the Female Prison at Westminster.
It has been before stated that, at the April Quarter Sessions of the year 1850, Mr. Thomas
Turner, one of the Middlesex magistrates, moved to the effect, " that a committee be
appointed to consider the expediency of appropriating each of the Middlesex Houses of
Correction to distinct classes of offenders," and that, in accordance with the recommendation
of the committee then appointed, it was determined, in July 1850, "that the Westminster
House of Correction should be thenceforth restricted to the reception of convicted female
prisoners, as well as males below the age of seventeen."
This change enabled the Middlesex magistrates to manage their two houses of correction
with twenty officers less, and at an annual saving of £1,719 in salaries to officials.
That portion of the Westminster House of Correction which now constitutes the female
prison there consists of two distinct semicircular blocks of buildings, situate at what are
termed the B and C sides of the prison ; the former being at the back of the governor's
house, adjoining Victoria Street, and the latter at the side of it towards the river, and
facing the boys' prison A, which stands on the side next the Vauxhall Eoad.
At the time of our visit, there were some 611 female prisoners located within the B and
C portions of the building—337 in the ceUs and dormitories of "B side," and 274 in those of
" C side"—the particular distribution being as follows :—
B side-
In the cells of No. 1 prison there were
2
3
4
6
6
7
Total sleeping in separate cells
In Dormitory B 1 .
B2. . . .
B 3 . . . .
In Infirmary ....
Total sleeping in association
Total on B side
Female
PríBonere.
21
. 27
. 28
. 21
23
28
. 28
. — 176
. 47
, 65
44
15
, — 161
337
C side. Female
Prisoners.
In the cells of No. 1 prison there were 12
„ 2 „ . 27
„ 3 „ . 27
„ 6 „ . 28
„ 7 „ . 26
,, 8 „ .8
Total sleeping in separate cells . . — 128
In Dormitory, C 4 „ . . 102
In Nursery „ . . 44
Total sleeping in association . . — 146
Total in C side ....
„ B side ....
274
337
Grand total locked up in the female)
prison the night previous to our visit )
In the official returns to the Home Secretary, however, it is stated that the female
portion of the prison is capable of containing only 600 prisoners, even when more than one
prisoner sleeps in a cell; and that it has separate sleeping accommodation for but 351
women ; and yet here we find the maximum accommodation exceeded, and no less than 248,
or more than 40 per cent., of the female prisoners huddled together in dormitories by night
—an arrangement which partakes of all the worst features of the Hulks, without the excuse
of ship-board to palliate the infamy.
And yet, even though the female prison, at the time of our visit, contained more women
than it was fitted to accommodate, we find, by the official returns, that it is occasionally
made to hold some three score more ; for, according to the last report, the greatest number
of female prisoners located within it at one time during the year ending Michaelmas, 1855,
was not less than 676, whilst the daily average of female prisoners throughout the whole of
the same year was 600—^the very point of its maximum.accommodation.
HOUSE OF COKRECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
469
The gross population of the female prison at Westminster, for the same year, was as
follows :—
Humher of female prisoners remaining in custody at the close of the
year ending Michaelmas, 1854 ........
Number of prisoners committed in the course of the year ending
Michaelmas, 1855 ..........
Gross population of the female prison for 1855 . . . 5,982
Of this number, 279, or 4*6 per cent, of the whole, were imder the age of seventeen years.
Of the 279 juveniles, 241 had been summarüy convicted, and 38 convicted at sessions ;
whilst of the 5,703 adult women, 4,655 were imprisoned upon summary convictions and
1,048 after trial.
We have before drawn attention to the fact, that the amount of sickness among the
females at Tothill Fields is unusually high, when compared with that of the female prisons
of all England and Wales. In 1853, the per centage of indisposition among the females at
the Westminster House of Correction was 50*4, whereas that for the female prisoners
throughout the country for the same year was 20 per cent, less, or 30-4 (see pp. 370,
371). We should also here repeat, that the punishments at the female prison at West¬
minster appear to be excessive, when contrasted with those inflicted upon the same class
of prisoners throughout England and Wales; for whilst the average ratio of punishments
to the number of female prisoners amounts to but little more than 23 per cent, for the whole
country, it is upwards of half as much again, or 38^ per cent., at Tothül Fields prison.
The cells, again, in the female branch of the same establishment are as disgracefnlly
defective, both as regards capacity and ventilation, as those in which the boys are located,
whilst they are also as utterly deficient of aU means of heating or lighting during the long
winter evenings, the women being then locked up in the dark and cold for more than 12
hours out of the 24—a practice which renders it impossible to prevent them talking with
the inmates of the neighbouring cells, as we were assured they did immediately the night
patrol had passed.
It is but just, however, while repeating these strictures, that we should append the
counter-statement of one of the Middlesex magistrates, who says, in a letter addressed to us
after the publication of our previous remarks upon the economy of this prison ;—
"Many thanks for the proofs, which I have carefully read, and which appear very
correct.
"You will, I am sure, permit me to add a few words in explanation respecting the cells,
punishment of the women, &c.
" The Westminster prison was the first erected on an improved plan, and was considered
at the period a model prison. Experience has, however, proved that it is far from perfect,
neither could it be warmed and ventilated in an efficient manner but at an enormous cost.
The question has been often under the consideration of the visiting justices, but from tbia
cause has been abandoned.
"Another and far superior course has been adopted, that of building a new wing on the
principle of Pentonville, the House of Detention, &cc., with certified cells, at an expense of
£11,000. The works wiU be commenced in a few days. Shoiüd this wing be approved of,
the entire prison can be altered, the plan having been so arranged.
"Punishments of the Women.—These arise from the violation of the prison rules imder
the ' silent associated system ' (rules which are not required imder the ' separate system'), as
well as from the violent conduct of the prisoners sent for short terms, and from the great
number who are frequent—I may add, constant—inmates of our prison, and who are almost
always under punishment, although every effort has been made to reform them.
!
623
359
470
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
" Sanitari/ Condition of the Prison.—The number of cases of slight indispoeitioiL jonong
the women arise—firstly, from women being subject to complaints from which men are free ;
and, secondly, from the large number who are more or less suffering, on entering the prison,
from the effects of intoxication, dissipation, and starvation."
In reply, we have merely to urge that the relative amount of sickness among the females
at this prison was tested by that of other females at all the other ^prisons of England and
Wales, so that the plea which attributes the excessive proportion of indisposition among the
female prisoners at TothiU Fields to the fact that women are subject to complaints from
which men are free cannot be of any logical avail.
Again, it is no rational justification of the excessive amount of punishment inflicted
upon the females at this same prison, to assert that it is necessary to enforce the regulations
of the silent associated system of prison discipline ; for as this same system is in force in
the majority of prisons throughout England and "Wales, and the ratio of punishments at
TothiU Fields was compared with that of the amrage for aU the female prisons of Englmd
and Wales, it foUows, either that the discipline of other prisons must be most lax, or else
that the government of this one is unnecessarily harsh and tyrannical.
f ii.—K.
Of the School-room, Work-rooms, and Nwrsery, and " Own Clothes' " Store at TothiU
Fields Prison.
The are two school-rooms in the females' prison at Westminster, one in C 8 for women,
and the other in B 8 for girls.
The former has little peculiar about it to warrant special description. We found it
fitted with rows of sloping desks, pierced with inkstands similar to those in the boys'
prison before noticed, and the walls hung with the same didactic illustrations.
Here the women leam reading, writing, spelling, catechism, &c., the classes being
five in number, and including altogether 122 scholars, all of whom are under twenty-
four years of age, " though," said the teacher to us, " we take any above that age that
the chaplain may please to send." Each class attends the school for an hour every day.
There is likewise a Bible-class which receives prisoners up to any age—the oldest prison»
in it now being 46. "And," added the teacher, "there's 36 women in the class at
present."
Any female prisoner can go to school if she expresses a wish to do so ; and the women,
we were told, often ask to be allowed to attend the classes. "For it's a great relief to the
prison life, and they know they're learning something," continued our informant.
At the time of our visit there were nineteen in the school-room, and, as we entered it,
the women, at the bidding of the teacher, rose and curtseyed.
" Some of the women here have leamt from the alphabet," said the warder, pointing to
one or two who were duUer-looking than the rest.
As we glanced along the three rows of white caps, there was not one abashed face or
averted tearful eye to be seen, whilst many grinned impudently on meeting our gaze.
The warder, to let us see the acquirements of her scholars, bade one of them read a
HOUSE OF COKRECTIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
471
passage from the Bible, that each held in her hand. The woman, however, made such a
sad bungle of the verse, that the teacher had again to assure us that the reader had léamed
her letters in the jail.
The other school at Tothül Fields, is, as we said, devoted to the education of the
young girls imprisoned there, and this is a far more touching scene than the one for the elder
women, for here the pupils are, some of them, of such tender years that the heart positively
aches again to see little female creatures of only eight years of age habited in the prison
clothes, and their faces utterly unfeminine in the boldness of their looks, the premature leer
in their eye, and wanton-like smile upon their Hp.
This was a half cosy Httle room fitted with forms, on which some sixteen mere children
were seated. Over the mantelpiece hxmg a black board, on which was painted the follow¬
ing notice :—
PRISONERS ARE NOT TO SPEAK
TO EACH OTHER.
And beside this dangled the official placard concerning " the sEWAjans to peisoioíes fob
GOOD CONDUCT." (See foot note, p. 438). Against the fire-place stood a table, on which
were spread samplers and round patch-work d'oyleys, bordered with fringe and other small
mosaic-like articles of needlework ; while the floor, though bricken, was covered with a
warm rug.
As usual, the room resgimded with the noise of the pupils rising like a detachment of
Httle soldiers, as our attendant matron ushered us into the place.
The girl prisoners were clad in blue and white-spotted cotton frocks, and caps with deep
friHed boiriers, and most of them had long strips of shiny straw plait dangHng from their
hands, which they kept working at instinctively with their Httle fingers, while they looked
with wonder up into our face. Some, as usual, were pretty-looking creatures, that euHsted
all one's sympathies, almost to tears, in their favour, whilst others had so prematurely brazen
a look, that the heart shrunk back as we inwardly shuddered at the thought that our
own Httle girl—^half angel though she seem now—^bom in the same circumstances, and
reared among the same associates, would assuredly have been the same young fiend as
they.
Here, strange to say, we found a flaxen-haired, fair-faced Httle boy, who held fas^ hold
of the matron's hand, and clung closer to her skirts at the sight of a strange man in the
school.
" He's the son of one of the prisoners, sir," said the matron, as we rested our palm
on the Httle feHow's head, to assure him that we meant no harm to him. " His mother has
got four years' penal servitude, and was sent away to MiHbank ; but they wouldn't receive
her there on account of the child, since they had no nursery at that place. The mother and
the boy have been here two years now, sir, and he comes to us every day to leam his
prayers and letters. His name is Tommy."
"Poor Httle man! In a few more years," we could not help inwardly exclaiming, "you will
most probably make your appearance in this same prison—year after year—^by legal right,
rather than by Government sufferance ; and a few years after that, again, you wiU doubtlessly
be found among the masked convict troop at PentonviUe, and then seen labouring, almost
under the muzzle of a warder's musket, in the neighbourhood of the pubHc dock-yards or
Government quarries ; and, finaUy, all trace of you wiU be lost in the gravestoneless burial-
ground of some one or other of the convict prisons, with nothing but the Httle blue stunted
convict-flower Hfting its head above your grave.
Poor Httle felon child ! how like are you to this same Httle, stunted, convict-flower—
472
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
dwarfed in your moral and intellectual growth, and yet here, blooming with the very hue of
heaven in your eyes, amid all kinds of human corruption !
" Our number of scholars," proceeded the teacher, in answer to our question, " varies gene¬
rally from 20 to 23 or 24 ; but the school is rather low, and we have but 16 at present."
They leam writing, ciphering, and catechism, as well as the collect for the next Sunday.
" Stand up, those girls who are going to say the collect in chapel to-morrow," cried the
matron, who seemed to think, naturally enough (for it is the great faEacy of all our educa¬
tional systems), that to convert these little creatures into religious parrots is really to make
them religious agents.
In an instant, some half-dozen mere children started up from their seats, in acknowledg¬
ment of the fact that they had got the collect by rote, though it was clear, from their years,
that one might as well have thought to have made Christians of them by teaching them to
jabber the Sermon on the Mount in the original Greek.
"That little girl, there," continued• the teacher, "is the yoimgest we have here at
present ; she is eight years old, and didn't know her letters when she came in."
The little felon-babe stood up, in obedience to the command of the officer, while we
stooped down to question her as to the reason why a tiny thing like her, that could hardly
articulate distinctly, had been adjudged a felon.
" What are you here for ?" we asked.
" Stealing a pair of boots," was the reply.
" Your father is a bricklayer, is he not?" inquired the matron, on our turning round to
interrogate her concerning the parents of the child.
The little prisoner nodded assent, and told us that she had gone out with her brother to
steal the boots. She didn't know, however, how old he was, but was sure that he had
never been in prison, and that he did not go out thieving regularly.
We then asked her why she had taken the boots, and her answer was, " 'Cause I hadn't
got none of my own."
" She has three months' imprisonment," the warder added.
How surely for magistrates to put the brand of thief upon a mere infant like this, is about
upon a par, both in intellect and humanity, with those wiseacre justices of the olden time
who sat in judgment upon corpses for the heresy of their souls when alive, and who condenmed
dogs to be burnt as witches. When will society be made to understand that the real nriminala,
in cases of infantine " delinquency" like this, are the parents who allow their offspring to
run wild in the streets, and not the little children that Christ himseK likened in their
innocence to the kingdom of God, and whom even the law considers to be moraEy incapable
of performing any act of their own? And when will our legislators comprehend the
iniquity as well as absurdity of sending mere babies to associate with older thieves as a means
of teaching them right from wrong ?
"The next in age is ten," continued the matron. "Which is the one who is ten?"
she inquired. "Oh! you, B ; you are, eh?"
Then another little creature stood up, and she was but an inch or two higher than the
last. After this those of twelve years old rose from their seats, and the first of these to
whom we spoke had three red stars on her arm, as badges of good conduct during her
imprisonment, whilst she drooped her eyelids, as we questioned her, with a shame that was
as beautiful as it was rare to behold in such a place.
" Bad money, sir," she answered, in a half whisper, to our inquiries as to the nature
of her offence. "Aunt gave it me, please, sir; I was along with her when I was
took."
The next prisoner, a chubby-cheeked thing of the same age, said, with a half-suppressed
grin, in reply to our interrogatory as to what she was in prison for, " Pickpocketing,
please, sir."
EXTERIOR OF NEWGATE.
HOUSE OF COREECÏIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
473
" There's another one in the prison on the same charge with her, but she was taken out
of this room for bad behaviour," interpsoed the matron at our elbow. "The other one done
it, sir, and gave it to me," said the child.
" This girl didn't know her letters when she came here," the warder interposed.
Another child—a red-headed and freckled-faced girl—^whom we questioned, though but
a mere baby in years, had been twice in the same prison—^the first time for six months,
and on this occasion for twelve months, having stolen some things from a reformatory school
to which she had been sent on obtaining her liberty. The cause of her " delinquency" was
soon explained ; it was the old story.
" She has a stepmother that isn't over kind to her," said the matron.
"But why did you steal the things from the school ?" we asked.
"I did it because they didn't give me enough to eat," was the reply. "I ran away
from the place, for I didn't want to stop there. It was a—Befuge, I think they call it—^in
St. Giles's."
The warder then informed us, that that school-room was for girls up to the age of sixteen ;
and, before we left, she exhibited to us several of the copy-books belongiog to her scholars—
pointing out the while, with no slight pride, the progress that the wretched little creatures
had made under her care. It should be added, that the gradual improvement in the
penmanship was as marked as it was creditable to her zeal.
" That girl," exclaimed the matron, as she spread open a book, one entire page of which
was covered with repetitions of the line—
Swve peace with all men,"
" had never handled a pen until she came here, and that's only a few weeks ago."
The Nursery at Tothill Fields Prison.—The next most interesting portion of the
female prison at "Westminster is the part set aside for the mothers and their infants, and
situate in Ho. 4 prison, C side, immediately under what is termed the straw-plait or needle-
room.
At the time of our visit there was some half-score iron bedsteads ranged along either side
of the room, which was about the size of an ordinary bam. Some of the bedding was turned
back, while in others the beds were ready made for the night. At the corners of the bed¬
steads sat the mothers with their children in their arms, some dancing them in the air—
others teaching them, as they leant back, to walk up their bodies—and others tickling
the little things as they rolled them on the counterpane; whilst the entire room resounded
with the kissing and prattling of the mothers, and the gurgling, and crying, and laughing
of the babes.
There were altogether 33 children, we were told, then in the prison, and 3 of these were
under 6 months old, 12 from 6 to 12 months, and the remainder between 1 and 2 years,
" beyond which age," said our informant, " we seldom receive them here, though I have
never heard of any limit as to age ; and there is one child now in the prison who is four
years old, but that is because his mother has already been two years imprisoned here."
" Sometimes," the ofdcer went on, "the mothers wish to send their children out again,
still that is but rare. As a rule, I really don't think they are difiPerent from other people
in their feelings for their little ones, and some of them are very fond of them ; though one
woman we have got in now (she is just behind us) treated her child very badly—so bad,
indeed, that we were obliged to take it from her." The prisoner referred to was a gloomy,
morose-looking creature, and scarcely seemed to notice the infant lying in her lap, even
though it was smiling up into her face.
" The mothers," proceeded the warder, as we continued to question her, " have all a
pound and a-half of oakum to pick in the course of the day, and they go into the work-
35'
474
THE GREAT WORLD OF 1010)01?.
room if their children are upwards of eight months old, while their little ones are taken
care of by the women remaining in the nursery.
" There, you see, is a woman with two infants yonder, sitting by the bed near the door,"
said the officer, " she's minding another prisoner's child. Oh, yes, they're very good and
patient to one another's children, and we seldom have cases of ill-treatment hereto punish."
We had heard that the nursery at Tothill Fields was conducted upon the silent system,
and though we had seen enough of disciplinarian folly in the course of our tour round the
London prisons, nevertheless we could hardly believe that prison regulations could be carried
to so wicked and unfeeling an extreme.
True, at the female prison at Brixton, we had found the women in the associated wings
allowed to converse the greater part of the day, but nevertheless forced to break off all
communication one with the other, and to observe strict silence at stated intervals—^though
for what earthly reason, or for what fancied good, further than the mere tyrannical display
of authority, it was difficult to divine ; for the stranger naturally said to himself, if inter¬
course among prisoners be bad, why allow them to speak to one another at all ? and if it be
found to be fraught with no ill effect, why this arbitrary imposition of silence for a mere
hoxir at a time, during the fore and after part of the day ?
Again, we had found the prisoners unmasked at the convict depot at MiUbank, and free
to recognize their former associates and friends ; whilst at PentonviUe, whither they were
consigned after the first few months of their conviction, their faces were studiously screened
one from the other, and even the chapel parted off into separate bins, as it were, so that
each should be kept religiomly aloof from the rest ; whereas, at the Hulks, whither they
were sent after some nine months of this wretched penal masquerade, their faces were again
bare, and they were brought into closer communion than they could even enjoy in the low
lodging-houses of London.
Further, we had noted that the work to which the convicts were put at one prison was
discarded immediately they had become in any way skilled at it, and they were removed to
another. The prisoner who had served a short time perhaps at gardening at Millbank,
being employed at tailoring or shoemaking at PentonviUe, and then, after three-quarters of
a year's labour at such work, transferred to scraping shot, or breaking"' stones, or stacking
wood at "Woolwich.
Hence we were fully prepared to find the silent system at the Westminster House of
Correction carried out even to the absurd extreme of forbidding mothers to prattle to their
children, and infants to talk and gambol with one another.
Nevertheless, we are happy to be able to confess that we were in error upon this point,
and that our informant, hearing that the nursery at TothUl Fields was conducted on the
silent system, had impressed us with false notions as to the regulations in force, and led us
erroneously to imagine that the little prison infants were reared in positive silence—
denied even the privilege of listening to the tones of their mothers' voice. We found,
however, upon investigation, that the silence enjoined extended merely to communication
among the women themselves, the mothers being not only aUowed to speak freely to their
babes, but the children having fuU liberty to talk and play one with the other ; and, in¬
deed, that the most captious could not fairly quarrel with the regulations of this portion of
the prison, which seemed to be conducted rather with aU kindly consideration for the
wretched women and children confined within it.
Sad as it is to see so many little cherub things entering life in such a place, stiU it is
due to the prison authorities to say that no inhiimanity of theirs renders the wretched lot of
the inmates more wretched than it necessarily is.
Indeed, a moment's reflection amid such scenes as these is sufficient to melt even the
stoniest natures ; for if the innocent babbling and baby pranks of the little felon infants
themselves do not thrill the heart with a positive spasm of sympathy, at least the eyes even.
HOUSE GE COEEECTIOH, TOTHILL EIELDS.
475:
of the sternest stranger must tingle with compassion to note the wretched mothers caressing
and fondling the little things, as if they were the only hit of all the black, blank world with¬
out that made life bearable to them.
For ourselves, we do not mind confessing that the sight moved us more than even the
highest wrought drama we had ever witnessed. For if a sense of the miserable start in
life which these poor little things have made touched m to the very core—stranger as we were,
with nothing but our common humanity to make the after fate of the babes worth a moment's
thought to us—"How," we inwardly exclaimed, " must it wound and bruise the hearts of
those wretched mothers to find the very being in the world whose life they wished to be
happier and brighter than any other in creation, beginning its young days with a gloom and
seeming fate about it that was almost appalling to contemplate.
Hor is it any sentimentality on our part that leads us to believe that the women located
in this portion of the prison are of a superior caste to those seen in the other wards of the
same institution. Hot only do we miss here the brazen looks and the apparent glorying in
their shame that prevails among the more debased of the female prisoners, but there is a
greater gravity, as well as a seeming sadness, impressed upon the coimtenances of the
mothers in the nursery that makes the visitor at once respect the misery, and pity rather
than loathe the degraded situation of the poor creatures.
Again, the very fact of their being mothers is sufficient to prove that these prisoners
do not belong to the class of " public women," since it is a wondrous ordination of Benevo¬
lence that such creatures as are absolutely shameless and affectionless should be childless
as well ; so that the sight of these baby prisoners was at once a proof to us that the hearts of the
women that bore them were not utterly withered and corrupt, and that they still had suffi¬
cient humanity left to feel at once the degradation of their own position, and to almost hate
themselves for the atmosphere of misery which their crimes had wrapt about the lives of
their little ones.
Such thoughts as these, fiitting fitfully through the brain, render the prison nursery
perhaps the most deeply pathetic of all the scenes in the world. The maternal fondling
here is no longer lovely to see, but positively sad and solemn to behold.
That woman yonder who keeps dabbing her hand over her little one's mouth, in order
to make it babble again, how gravely and almost mournfully does she seem to jilay with
the child !
This one, again, suckling her infant, has her eyes fixed intently on the babe, as it digs
its head, like a young lamb, against its mother's side, and we can almost guess the wild
conflict of emotion that is raging in her heart the while.
Yonder woman, too, who has placed her infant to kick and roU on the bed, and is leaning
over it now, as with her apron-strings she tickles it in the folds of its fat little neck, seems
barely to rejoice in its smiles, for she is probably speculating at one moment as to what
wretched fate awaits it in the world ; the next minute praying to have it dead in her lap ;
and then, as she snatches it up, and hugs it half frantically to her bosom, wishing she
were as innocent as it, and prizing it as the only thing that stül loves and clings to her in
all the world.
As we stood noting these things in our book, the Kttle flaxen-haired boy, whom we harl
seen in the school-room at the earlier part of our visit, came and looked up in our face,
wondering at what we were doing there.
The bright blue eyes of the little creature gazing intently at us, set us thinking again
of the stunted- convict-flower, shining like a faint spark of heaven's light amid the
withering hearts of the unheeded felons.
*#* The Female Work and Work-rooms at Tothill Fields Prison.—There is little in con¬
nection with this part of our subject demanding special mention. Heither crank-work nor
476
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
treadwlieel-work, nor pump-work, nor, indeed, any of those repulsive and un&minine
forms of hard lahoui- to which women were put only a few years ago in our prisons, any
longer prevail at the Westminster House of Correction.
The forms of labour pursued in this establishment have assuredly nothing harsh nor
unwomanly about them, and nothing, we should add, to which it is possible, even for the
most fastidious, to raise an objection. For though, if the prison itself were situate in the
suburbs, and the more profitable employment of market-gardening resorted to, it might be
possible to render the prisoners self-supporting (and Mr. Charles Pearson has proved, before
a Parliamentary Committee, that 1,000 prisoners occupied on 1,000 acres would be
sufficient to reduce the cost of maintenance, and even superintendence, to nil; whereas at
Tothill Fields prison the average earnings of the inmates are but £1 15s. 9§d. per head per
annum ; whilst the annual cost of their food and clothing amounts to £9 7s. lO^«?., and that of
superintendence to £9 15s. more—each individual confined there thus costing the county
nearly £20, and earning less than £2 in the course of the year) ; nevertheless, so long as our
jails are allowed to remain in our towns—^where they are no more fit to be than grave¬
yards—we must acknowledge that, at the Westminster House of Correction, the women are
employed in the fittest as well as most prudent manner possible under the circumstances.
Though we hold that a heavy -wrong is done to the community by every individual that
is not self-supporting within it, and that it should be one of the main objects of those placed
in authority over the people to render each person in the State capable of self-maintenance ;
still it appears to us to be most inconsiderate, if not wicked, on the part of prison officials
to set criminals to work at those occupations for which the markets are already overstocked,
and by which the honest poor out of doors find it difficult to eke out their lives. For since
it is obvious that criminal labour can be sold cheaper than any other, which requires
the minimum price paid for it to be sufficient to cover the cost of the maintenance of the
labourer, honest folk can only compete -with such work by becoming criminal in return,
and adding to their wages either by prostitution or theft.
We have, in another place, shown this to be the rule, more particularly among the badly-
paid slop-workers of the Metropolis ; and yet we find, at Brixton and MUlbank, the prisoners
engaged in executing large contracts for the Houndsditch Jews, and thus rendering honesty
and virtue more and more hard to be carried on in connection with industry at the east end
of the Metropolis.
It is but just, however, to the Middlesex magistrates to make known, that at Tothill
Fields we do not find the women engaged, as we noted them at Brixton, in making up shirts
for Moses, or employed, as at MiUbank, in " sank" work for the more competitive of the army
clothiers—the work done by the females at Westminster being merely such as is required
and used at the other county establishments, and none, so far as we could ascertain, going
into the market to beat down the wages of independent and honest workpeople.
The several forms of labour pursued at this prison are oakmn-picking, straw-plaiting,
knitting, and laundry-work ; whilst the majority of the work done goes to the cmmty
lunatic asylum at Hanwell.
In these work-rooms one sees almost the same large assemblages of criminals as at Cold-
bath Fields, and the sight of the dense mass of female infamy, clad in the one monotonous
prison dress, and all as silent as death, produces an intensely powerful effect upon the mind ;
whilst the contemplation of such an immense variety of feature, impresses the beholder
•with a sense that every form of physical as well as moral ugliness is here presented to his
■view ; for there is scarcely one well-formed, and certainly not one innocent-looking, face to be
detected among the wretched crowd, and in the countenances of many the marks of prema¬
ture disease, or of long-continued iE-treatment, or confirmed dissipation may be noted—
the lingering bronzy traces of the blackened eye—the blotched and crimson cheeks, and
HOUSE CE COEEECTIOH, TOTHILL EIELDS.
477
thè cancèrous nôse—^together -with the callous and brazen smilè on every lip, and startling
shamelessness in every glance—of the young as "well as old—all serve to make up a picture
and a scene that has not its parallel for hideousness in the civilized world.
The oakum-room is a large shed similar to that in the boys' prison, and situate at the end
of C 8 yard. Here we found some 200 and odd women ranged upon several long benches, and
with the warders stationed round the room—the work differing in no way from that already
described in connection "with the boys ; while the most ghost-like silence reigned throughout
the place—^there being no attempt made either to instruct or occupy the minds of the
prisoners during the operation.
The females under the age of 16, as well as those staying in the nursery, have 1 lb. of
oakum to pick per diem, whereas the boys under the same age have to do 1J lbs. ; and the
females of 16 years and upwards, Ij lbs., whilst the elder boys have 2 lbs.
In the course of the week preceding our visit, there had been, on an average, 187 women
and girls employed at oakum-work daily (see p. 401), and these had picked altogether a few
pounds more than 13 cwt. during that time, which is at the rate of 2 cwt. and 20 lbs. for the
whole of the females, and not quite 1 lb. 5 oz. for each daily—the average for the boys
being a fraction more than 1 lb. 6 oz. each per diem. Accordingly, it will be foimd that
there is rather more than 33 cwt. of oakum picked by the female prisoners collectively in
the course of the year, and this, at the price of £4 10s. the cwt. paid by the contractor for
the picking, would make the aggregate earnings of the women and girls employed at this
work amount to very nearly £150, or a fraction more than 15s. each per annum, whilst the
boys, severally, earn about 17s. per annum.
The women are all clad in close white caps "with deep frills, and a loose blue and white
spotted dress, so that, from the colours being more marked than those in the boys' prison,
the sight of the assembly has a far more peculiar effect. Some of the prisoners have
a number stitched upon their arm, to indicate that they are there for three months and
* The ratio of recommittals among the women of Tothill Fields shows the female prisoners there to belong,
generally speaking, to the most hardened class of offenders—27'0 per cent, of them having been imprisoned
four times and more.
TABLE SHOWINO THE NUMBER OP FEMALES IMPRISONED IN THE "WESTMINSTER HOUSE OF CORRECTION IN
THE COURSE OF THE TEARS ENDING MICHAELMAS, 1861-55.
Previously Committed.
Total No.
of com¬
mittals.
"Vears, &c.
Onee.
Twice.
Thrice.
Pour times
and more.
Total No.
recom¬
mitted.
1851 ....
1852 ....
1853 ....
1854 ....
1855 ....
834
852
855
856
893
358
441
455
469
494
149
220
254
241
251
1,228
1,397
1,622
1,671
1,508
2,569
2,910
3,186
3,237
3,146
5,082
5,343
5,506
5,753
5,359
Total....
4,290
2,217
1,115
7,426
15,048
27,043
Annual mean .
858
443
223
1,485
3,009
5,408
Per centage
15-9
8-3
4-2
27-0
55-5
1Ô0-0
By the above data, then, we see that more than one-half (55"6 per cent.) of the females committed to
Tothill Fields are old habitual offenders—not less than 27"0 per cent, of the entire number of persons com¬
mitted to the prison having been there/oKr Íí«íeí and mon! previously. Of the boys at the same prison,
however, only 467 per cent, have been before committed (see p. 409), whilst the ratio of recommitted
prisoners of all ages and both sexes, throughout England and Wales, is only 25-3 per cent. ; so that it would
ajtpeár that the females return to the Westminster House of Correctîôù in mon than doulle the average pro¬
portion for all other prisons !
478
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON".
over, and entitled to the first-class diet ; whilst the arms of others are marked with a clotli
figrtre of 2, as a sign that their term of imprisonment is less than three montiis and more
than twenty-one days. A large proportion of the women, on the other hand, have no
such marks upon their sleeves, and these are what are technically termed " days' women,"
being there merely for a week or two, and mostly in default of payment of some small
fine.*
* The following table shows the terms of imprisonment undergone by the females at Tothlll Fields for a
series of years :—
TABLE SHOWING THE TEBMS OP IMPllISONMENT OP THE WOMEN IN TOTHILL PIELOS PBIBON
FKOM 1851 TO 1855.
Terms of imprisonment.
1851.
1852.
1853.
1854.
1855.
Annual
mean.
Per centage
to total
committals.
Under 14 days.
Girls under seventeen . . .
"Women above seventeen. . .
93
2,119
91
2,251
105
2,134
74
2,172
80
1,974
88
2,130
1-6
39-3
Total
2,212
2,342
2,239
2,246
2,054
2,218
40-9
14 days and under 1 month.
Girls
Women
63
1,312
51
1,251
61
1,336
61
1,224
60
1,257
59
1,276
11
23-5
Total
1,375
1,302
1,397
1,285
1,317
1,335
24-6
1 month and wader 2 months.
Girls
Women
25
741
33
797
43
898
65
914
53
824
44
835
0-8
15-4
Total
766
830
941
979
877
879
16-2
2 months and under 3 months.
Girls
Women
8
184
6
154
13
166
18
248
29
256
15
201
0-3
3-7
Total
192
160
179
266
285
216 .
40
3 months and under 6 months.
Girls
Women . .
25
328
32
277
21
256
39
345
25
318
28
305
0-6
5-7
Total
353
309
277
384
343
333
6-2
6 months and under 1 year.
Girls
Women
14
308
9
280
22
305
14
431
14
323
15
329
0-3
61
Total
322
289
327
445
337
344
6-4
1 year and above.
Girls
Women
1
88
0
76
4
98
3
104
1
102
2
93
00
1-7
Total . ...
89
76
102
107
103
95
1-7
Total eommittals.
Girls
Women
229
6,080
222
5,086
269
5,193
274
5,438
262
5,054
251
6,170
4-6
95-4
Grand total . . .
6,309
5,308
5,462
5,712
5,316
5,421
100-0
Here, then, we perceive that nearly one-half, or 40-9 per cent., of the females confined in this prison are
sent there for less than fourteen days, so that a large number of the prisoners keep returning periodically
WOKK-KOOM, ON THE SILENT SYSTEM, AT THE HOUSE OP COEHECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
GATEWAY AT NEWGATE,
Wim GROUP OP PUlSOPÍPRS' PRIENDS WAITING TO BE ADMITTED.
HOUSE GE COEEECÏIOH, TOTHILL FIELDS.
479
On the occasion of our visit, we sought to ascertain what proportion of the whole of the
women present in the oakum-room was imprisoned for their inability to pay the few sljillings
penalty to which they had been adjudged ; and no sooner had the matron requested all
those who were there for lines to stand up, than almost every third woman staa-ted from her
seat, and, upon counting up the number that had risen, we found there were some 60 out
of 180 odd; whilst one wretched woman, fancying we were some one in authority, began
raving away from the back of the room, saying, that she "ought to have gone out that
morning as her three weeks were up."
Thus, then, it would appear that were the principle of payment by instalment esta¬
blished for fines as well as small debts, the female prison at Tothill Fields would most
probably be considerably thinned of its inmates, and those who, in the eyes of justice, can
only be regarded as "Crown debtors," no longer ranked as felons. For admitting that
many either would not or could not pay a few pence per week in liquidation of the penalty
imposed, and assuming that only one-half did so (though the experience of the county courts
would make us believe that there would not be a tithe of the number defaulters), it is
manifest that not only would the Government be acting up to the very first principle of
enlightened penology, viz., to endeavour to keep people out of prison as long as possible,
rather than thrust them into it for the most trivial offences—but the country would be
saved some hundred thousands per anmun in prison expenses. Thus, according to the latest
returns, the grand total of the gross cost of all the prisons of England and Wales (exclusive
of the Government establishments for convicts) amounts to upwards of £450,000 per
annum, or nearly £27 per head, for a daily average of 16,691 prisoners, so that as the mean
annual earnings of each prisoner are only a fraction more than £2, there is a clear loss of
just upon £25 upon every one imprisoned throughout the year. Hence, siipposing there to
be only one-fourth of the average number of prisoners confined for non-payment of their fines
(and out of the gross number of committals, 75 per cent, are summary convictions, under
which the fines are generally imposed), it is obvious that, even if we admit only half the
penalties to be paid up under such an arrangement, the country would be an immense
gainer by the change—receiving not only the fines which it now loses, but saving the
expense of keeping 25 per cent, of the daily average number of prisoners throughout the
year, which, at the nett cost of £25 per head, would leave a clear profit of not less than
£100,000 a-year.
to the place ; whilst as much as 65-5 per cent, of the whole are imprisoned for less than one month, and as
many as fonr-fifths of the gross number of committals for less than two months. The same rule holds good
even with the girls, more than one-half being committed for terms that render it impossible to make the
least impression upon their natures, and which serve to convert the prison into a temporary " refuge for the
destitute" rather than a place of penance and reformation. By reference to the table given at p. 422,
showing the length of the imprisonments for the boys at the same prison, it will be found that upwards of
65 per cent, of the young male prisoners are committed for short terms likewise. The present table, how¬
ever, shows—like that for the boys before given—that there has been a tendency of late on the part of the
magisrates to lengthen the terms of imprisonment ; for it will be seen that the number of committals for less
than one month, both for the girls as well as women, have been considerably reduced in number since 1851,
whilst those for more than one month have been correspondingly increased.
" After the age of seventeen, a lamentable increase," say the visiting justices in their last special report,
"occurs in the number of girls committed to the prison at Westminster." A fact, by-the-by, which per¬
fectly agrees with the statistics of female crime before cited. " It is probable," the justices add, " that
before this age the girls are kept more at home than boys, and have less opportunity of becoming coiTupted
by vidons association ; whereas, after it, they are, on the other hand, thrown on their own resources,
without having received either moral or religious instruction, and get engaged as servants in situations
where their morals are neglected, and where neither their comforts nor happiness are cared for, so that,
exposed to evil examples and to the artifices of the depraved, it is not singular that they should fall ; and
having &Uea, having lost friends and character, they should in despair resign themselves to an abandoned
life, and become frequent inmates of the prison."
480
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDOK.
The straw-plait room is situate on the first floor of prison 4, C side ; it extends the whole
length i)f the wing, and the engraving which we have given wiU afford a far better idea of
the scene there presented to the view, than any string of words can possibly convey to the
mind.
Here, again, there are some two hundred prisoners working in the most oppressive
silence, and seeming as they twiddle the straws in and out their fingers, without
uttering a word, as if they were all wrapt in a profound dream, and mechanically
performing some every-day work with their eyes wide open, as somnambulists are wont
to do.
The loquacity of women has grown into a proverb among us, so that all can readily
imderstand how hard female prisoners must find it to have to remain for six hours every
day working in stark silence, close beside those who are suffering in common with them¬
selves.
We, however, who have heard the positive outburst of talking that occurs among
the women at Brixton the very instant that the striking of the clock announces the silent
hour to be at an end, can frame some slight notion as to the galling irritation of the
restraint imposed upon the women's tongues at Tothill Eields. Indeed the reader has but
to turn to the table at p. 375, showing the number of punishments annually inflicted upon
the females at this prison, in order to discover how, to reduce the poor wretches to dumbness,
the food itself has to be continually cut off, and even handcuffs and "other irons" resorted
to, and that to a degree far beyond what is found necessary to enforce the discipline at any
other female prison in the kingdom.
Still, it seems never to have occurred to the minds of any of the visiting justices,
that the time thus absolutely and wilfully wasted in silence might easily be turned to
profitable account, as well as the excessive amount of punishment decreased by placing
some one to read to the women, during their work, from some interesting and good book ;
and the poor wretches thus be no longer left, from sheer want of some slight mental occupa¬
tion, to brood hour after hour over their own thoughts until they irritate themselves almost
to madness under the galling and petty tyranny of the " system."
" The women like the straw-plaiting at first," said the matron to us, " but they soon
get tired of it ; and they dislike it in winter especially, because it's cold to the fingers.
They generally wish to get away to some new pursuit after a short time, for they cannot
bear to sit long at the same thing. I don't know," the warder went on, " that they are
different in this respect to other people, but out of doors they have many things to employ
their mind which they don't find here. Besides, it's a long time to be over the same work,
and that, too, without speaking a single word. The long-term women," added the ofdcer,
" we send to the work-room, and some go to the oakum-room, though they are mostly for
seven, fourteen, or twenty-one days who are set to oakum-picking. AE prisoners pass
through the C prison first. Some may be there for a fortnight, and some only for a few
days; the length of time depends upon the number going out, but aU the women are placed
in the oakum-room immediately on their entering the prison.
"There's a great number of bonnets and hats made here," proceeded the matron, "for
the lunatics at the Hanwell Asylum ; none of the things we make are sold to the shops.
Sometimes ladies order bonnets of us, which they wish to give away to some institution ;
but no work is done hero for the trade. "We've been doing straw-work since the last
four years. That basket there is very nicely made. "We've not long begun that style
of work ; indeed, that's only the second we've finished. One of the magistrates had the
first."
The basket to which our attention was drawn was a smaU hand-basket, somewhat of
the shape of a portable writing-desk, and the straw worked into a series of small pyramids,
after the fashion of a pine-apple. This stood on a large counter at the end of the room, upon
HOÏÏSE OF CGEEECTION", TOTHILL FIELDS.
481
which were arranged small sheaves of new straw, and one or two planter-like round hats for
ladies, of the open pastry-work class of " fancy" manufacture; and near this was a prisoner
scrubbing away at a new straw bonnet on a block, whilst one or two of the warders were
examining a lady's hat that stood ready trimmed on the dresser.
" This is rather a duU pink, ain't it, Mrs. ?" inquired one of the matrons of
the female superintendent, as she raised one of the strings of the ready-trimmed round
hats. "Yes, it is rather dull," was the reply; "but you know gay colours. Miss ,
won't do here."
The knitting-room is situate in prison 1, B side, and is remarkable only for its slanting,
pew-like arrangement—an elaborate piece of absurdity, designed by some wiseacre with a
view to prevent the female prisoners taUdng, but which, owing to the high wooden partition
at the back of each row of prisoners acting as a sounding-board, has served as the best pos¬
sible contrivance for allowing them to communicate in secret.
This place is about the size of a village school-room, and contained, at the time of our
visit, some 35 women, all ranged on the slant, as it were, in long narrow pews, stretching
diagonally across the room. Just peeping above the tops of the partitions, the white caps of
the prisoners could be seeu, while ranged along the wall upon a raised gallery, stood a
couple of warders looking down into the sloping troughs, as it were, and crying occasionally,
" I can hear some one talking there," though, by the ingenious arrangement, it was now
almost impossible to detect the offender—an arrangement which, if the justices had been
acquainted with the commonest rules of acoustics, would assuredly never have been exe¬
cuted ; and one which, had they the least knowledge of human nature, and been aware that
it is better and safer at all times to lead than to drive people towards any end in view, they
would never have listened to for a moment, but have preferred to have afforded the women
some mental occupation over their work, as a means of winning them into silence, rather
than seeking to force them into it by ptire carpentry.
The laundry-work calls for no particular notice, further than saying that on the occasion
of our visit there were some fifteen women employed in it, and that it was conducted on the
silent system, the women, though working in association, having two warders placed over
them, in order to prevent communication among them.
Nor would our account be complete did we omit to state, that at half-past four the
women cease working—after which time they are permitted to read if they like, books being
supplied to them for the purpose—and that at six o'clock they are locked up in their cells or
dormitories for the night, the older females being placed in the latter and the younger ones
in the former.
In the dormitories warders are stationed through the night, to see that no talking goes
on among the prisoners, two officers remaining on duty from six in the evening tUl ten,
and two others from ten at night till six in the morning. Nevertheless, we were assured
it was impossible to put a stop to the secret communication that nightly went on in spite
of them. Moreover, there are two female warders stationed at B and C lodges, whose duty it
is to go roimd and inspect the prisons during the night. There is, too, a chief warder on
duty besides.
As a rule, we were told that the officers consider the " long-terms," that is to say, the
long-sentence women, to behave the best, though latterly they have found these rather
refractory.
At the time of our last visit there was only one prisoner in a dark cell, and, on the
occasion of a previous one, we were witness to the kindness and good sense with which one
of the visiting justices spoke to a woman in one of the refractory cells—a half-maniac kind
482
THE GKEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
of creature who was then disturbing the whole prison, first with her shouts, then with her
songs, and finally with her screams.*
* We append a statement of the expenses and receipts of this prison ;—
TADLE OP THE KXPENDITURB AND IlEOEIPTS OP TOTHILL FIELDS PBISON FOR THE YEAR 1854, COMPARED WITH
THAT OF COLDBATH FIELDS, AND THE AVERAGE OP ALL OTHER PRISONS IN ENGLAND AND WALES.
COST OF PRISON PER ANNUM.
Items of Exfensitubk.
Total cost of Prison Diet and Extra
Allowances, by order of
the Surgeon, and Wine,
Beer, &c.
„ Male Clothing, Bedding,
and Straw
,, Offlcers' Salaries and Ra¬
tions, and Pensions to
Retired Officers
„ Fuel, Soap, and other
cleansing materials. Oil
and Gas .
„ Stationery, Printing, and
Books, Furniture and
Utensils, &c.. Rent,
Rates, and Taxes.
,, Support of Prisoners re¬
moved under Contract to
be confined in other Ju¬
risdictions, and removal
of Convicts and Prison¬
ers to and from Trial,
and to other Prisons for
punishment, &c.
„ Sundry Contingencies not
eniuneratcd . .
Total expenses for the Prison for the
year, not including Re¬
pairs, Alterations, and
Additions
,, Repairs, Alterations, and
Additions in and about
the Prison in the course
of the year
Repayment of Principal or Interest
of Money Borrowed
Grand Total
Daily average number of Prisoners.
Gross Cost
per Annum.
£ s. d.
6,889 5 3
1,282 12 3
8,489 12 G
974 10 9
92 6 2
98 18 6
720 8 6
18,547 13 11
579 G 7
19,127 O 6
Gross cost of Prison, per head, per anijum,
exclusive of repairs
Average Cost per
Prisoner per Annum.
Tothill
Fields.
1854.
£ s. d.
7 18 44
1 0 53
9 15 2
1 2 5
0 2 13
0 2 33
0 IG
21 6 44
0 13 33
21 19 83
870
Coldbath
Fields.
1854.
£ a. d.
9 1 94
1 4 0
7 18 84
1 1 3
0 9 1
0 13 9
1 4 74
21 13 24
0 13 44
22 6 7
1,388
£21 6 44 £21 13 24
All other
Prisons in
England
and
Wales.
1853.
£ a. d.
5 4 11
1 7 2
10 7 G
1 19 6
0 13 93
0 12 93
1 1 93
21 7 53
2 9 5
2 12 93
2G 9 84
1G,G91
£21 7 5|
RECEIPTS OF PRISON PER ANNUM.
Nett Profit received for
manufacturing or
other Work done by
the Prisoners . 4G0 14 8
Estimated Profit of
Work or Labour done
by the Prisoners for
the benefit of the
County, City, or Bo¬
rough . . 1,09G 11 4
s. d, £ s. d.
Gross Earnings of Prisoners . 1,557
Amount received for the Support of
Vagrants .... 2
Amount received for the Subsist¬
ence of Revenue Prisoners . 46
Amount charged to Treasury for
Maintenance of Prisoners con¬
victed at Assizes and Sessions . 5,308 16
Other Receipts . . . 117 9
G 0
3 5
7 G
Total
£7,032 2 7
Average Earnings of each Prisoner
at Tothill Fields per annum
Ditto at Coldbath Fields
Ditto of all Prisoners of England
and Wales ....
1 15 91,
4 11 10|i
215'
NETT COST OP THE PRISON.
Total Expenses of the Prison for the year, not including Repairs, Alterations, and Additions . £18,547 13 11
Total Receipts of ditto ........... 7,032 2 7
Cost to the County, City, or Borough, not including Repairs, Alterations, and Additions . 11,515 11 4
Repairs, Alterations, and Additions during the year . . . . 579 G 7
Total Expenses of the Prison for the year, including Repairs, Alterations, and Additions, and
excluding Receipts ..... .... 12,094 17 11
Nett cost of each Prisoner, at Tothill Fields, per annum .... £13 18 04
„ „ at Coldhath Fields, per annum . . . 10 9 43
„ „ in all Prisons of England and Wales, per annum . 18 8 03
„ „ at Tothill Fields, per diem . . . . 0 0 93
„ „ at Coldbath Fields, per diem . . . . 0 0 6f
„ „ in all Prisons of England and Wales, per diem . 0 10
By the above comparative table, we find that the annual gross cost of each prisoner at Tothill Fields is
gome half-dozen shillings lees than at Coldbath Fields, and about 1«. Id. less than the mean for all the prisons
HOUSE OF COKEECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
483
*^The FemaUPmoner»' Own Clothes' Store, In civilized communities dress
enters so fully into our notions of individuals, that a particular Idnd of garment has as much
human character about it as even a definite form of countenance.
Sam "WeUer's well-known description of the inmates of the White Hart Inn, in the
Borough, by the boots and shoes he had to clean, affords us as graphic a picture of the
persons staying at the tavern as would the figures of even the people themselves :—
"There's a pair of Hessians in 18," said he, in answer to the inquiry as to who there
was in the house; "there's two pair of halves in the commercial; there's these here
painted tops in the snuggery inside the bar; and five more tops in the coffee-room,
besides a shoe as belongs to the wooden leg in Ho. 6 ; and a pair of Wellingtons, a
good deal worn, together with a pair of lady's shoes in Ho. 5."
At Tothül Fields prison the warders in charge of the prisoners' own clothing are wont
to indicate the female characters incarcerated there by the style of bonnet entrusted to their
care, and to speak of the " hat and feathers they had in a few days ago for being drunk and
riotous," the same as if the article of millinery had been the chief offender, and the female
herself but a mere particeps criminis in the affair.
" We haven't many smart bonnets in now, sir," said the warder, as she conducted us
round the store for the " long-terms," and pointed out to us the peculiarities of the different
Vinila of head-gear stowed away in the large square compartments that were fitted round
the room.
"This silk and blond," she said, " trimmed with 'ruches' and with roses, and geraniums
inside, is in for ' pickpocketing ;' and this purple velvet one, with feathers at the side, has got
twelve months for shoplifting. Here, too, is a fancy Tuscan, with ribbon ' ruches,' quite
fashionable, but dirty enough, you see, sir, inside—that's got six months for the same offence.
" Yes, sir, it is, as you say," went on the officer, " the grandest ones that come here are
mostly for stealing in shops.
" Here's another, though, sir," said the matron, as she seemed suddenly to recollect her¬
self, and started off to a compartment on the opposite side—" a grand Leghorn, with a fall of
bugles, you see, in front. This is a play-actress, and has four calendar months for stabbing
her husband.
"The next one, too, sir, loas a very pretty thing once," she remarked, as she took the
bonnet from the round squabby bundle of clothes on which it stood. " It's horsehair, with
green trimming, and has eight calendar months for passing bad money.
" How here's one of those common wiUow-bonnets, trimmed with flowers—that's for
illegally pawning, I think ; and that flattened, old faded plush, for I cannot exactly say
what.
" Oh, yes ! we've a good many shabby ones," proceeded the warder, in answer to our
question. "Here's a common-looking thing, an old cotton velvet, trimmed with faded pink
ribbon ; that's a misdemeanour in for three calendar months.
throughout the country. The average cost of the diet, per head, however, is upwards of SO per cent, more
than that of all England and Wales. The expense of the clothing, again, is slightly in excess, though the
coat of superintendence is somewhat less per prisoner. Again, the average amoimt for soap, fuel, as well
as stationery, printing, &c., and the support of prisoners removed to other jails, are all greatly below the
annual expense per head, both at Coldbath Fields and the country prisons generally ; so that the comparatively
cost of the diet, clothing, &o., for each individual prisoner, is reduced, by the comparatively ¡ote cost of
the superintendence and other subordinate items, to a fraction below the standard for the whole kingdom.
But if the gross cost of each prisoner at Tothill Fields be only a fraction less than the general average of all
our prisons, the nett cost is some 25 per cent, below it. This is mainly owing to the fact of there being at
Tothül Fields neither principal nor interest to repay, and the cost of the repairs being proportionally small ; and
the average earnings of the prisoners individually, it will be seen, are somewhat below the general average,
rather than considerably above it, as at Coldbath Fields, where the value of the work done is most unfairly
estimated
484
THE GKEÂT WOELD OF LOHDOH.
"We were then conducted into the short-term room, where were kept the clothing, &c.,
of those females whose sentence was feíí .than three months. The clothes here were stowed
away in the same manner as in the other store—a roimd hnndle, with a bonnet on the top,
being placed in each of the square compartments which covered the walls of the room.
" This grand pink and white silli, with cherry-coloured figured ribbons and blond curtain
and flowers, is in for fourteen days," said the matron.
"What for ?" we asked, as we wrote down the particulars in our note-book.
" Streets," was the laconic and significant reply. " Just see how greasy and dirty it is
at the back, sir ; that's from its having been worn half on the shoulders. Here is another
grand-looking, yeUow silk affair, that's aE grubby inside ; it has got a piece of net, too, for the
crown, with the ribbon passed over it to save the sük, you see. There's deception for you !
The same as in everything now a-days. That's the streets again, sir; and for the same term
as the last.
" This is an old faded straw thing, you see," said the warder, as she held up a colourless
and shapeless article that was half in shreds. " It's got the plait of the crown aU loose and
hanging down like an apple-paring. That's for begging or sleeping in the open air—can't
say which. And this ragged and rusty old black crape affair is a regular visitor of ours ; it's
for breaking a lamp, I think, this time, though it's generally in for being drunk and dis¬
orderly. I do believe I've known it these last five years.
" Oh, yes, sir ! they are all fumigated before they are put away here ; if they were
not we should be swarming, notwithstanding the finery. The sulphur often takes
the colour out," went on the officer, " so that the women don't know their own things. But
we are as careful over them as we can be for the poor creatures, for it would he hard,
indeed, if we spoilt their clothes when they came here, as very few that we see in this
place have more than they stand up in."
The caption-papers that accompany a prisoner from one jaü to another are a peculiar
class of document, which, for the sake of completeness, should not be omitted from our
account of the London prisons.
A boy or woman, for instance, who is convicted at the Middlesex or Westminster Sessions,
on being transferred from the detentional prison in which he or she has been confined before
trial, to the House of Correction at Westminster, will have such a caption-paper forwarded
with either of them, as the case may be, to the governor of the latter institution. In this paper
the nature of the offence of which the individual has been convicted, as weU as the sentence
adjudged, will be duly set forth ; and if the prisoner were afterwards to be removed to any
convict prison, a copy of this caption-paper would be furnished to the authorities of the
future place of custody, together with a return setting forth all particulars in connection
with the identity and antecedents of the offender, as weU as the circumstances of his case.
A copy of such a caption-paper, together with the return sent to the governor of one of
the London convict prisons, is here subjoined :—
CAPTION.
At the General Quarter Sessions of the Peace, holden 6y aâjoumment at SheßUitd in and
for the West-Riding of the County of York, on Friday the Fourth day of January
in the Nineteenth Year of the Reign of our Sovereign Lady Victoria, by the Grace of
God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Queen, Defender of the
Faith, and in the Year of our Lord, One Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty Six ;
Before certain Justices of our said Lady the Queen, assigned to preserve the peace
in the said Riding ; and also to hear and determine divers Felonies, Trespasses, and
other Misdemeanours done and committed therein.
2ERb(rtaS at this present Quarter Sessions of the Peace, J R , late of Waheßeld, in the West-Riding
of the County of York, Labourer, is and stands convicted of Larceny, committed after a previous conviction for
Felony.
OF THB
CDountp of ^oth.
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, TOTHILL FIELDS.
485
Xt te t^ertupon ortrtrcH anii atijutrgdi {ic t^is C^onrt, That the above-named Convict be kept in Penal
Servitude for the term of Four years.
BY THE COURT,
B B ,
ib Mr. E-
S-
Sepntp Clttk of ti^e ^eace.
Keeper of the House of
Correction at Wakefield.
I hereby certify that the above is a true copy of the Original Caption and Order of Court, containing the
sentence by virtue of which the above-named Convict is in my custody.
E S ,
CEiobtrnor of ti^e Ifoust of ^Correction at SRakcficItr,
in t^c 21tcst°3Ritting of ^orksi^irc.
Eetubn to accompany the caption of a convict on his removal to a convict prison, and
subsequent transfers :—
County
or
Borough
Prisons.
Name and Aliases J-
Single or Married, and Number of Children
Read and Write
Trade or Occupation ....
Crime, stating Particulars
Date and Place of Committal .
Date and Place of Conviction .
Sentence 4 yeari Fenal Servitude.
Name and Residence of Family or next of kin . ( ^ ^
30.
Single.
Imperfectly.
Saw-handle maker.
Í Stealing from a Dwelling-house at Shef¬
field XIKs. of Beef, and pre. con.
8 December, 1855. Sheßeld.
4 January, 1856. Sheffield Sessions.
St.
in .(
( Bark, Sheffield.
Religion Church. Health . . . (Bronchitis),
Information relative to former Convictions.
Whether
Previonaly
Transported
None.
Previous
Convictions,
stating
Particulars.
York Assizes, December, 1846, Assault upon, an indictment for
Burglary and Wounding, 3 cal. mon.
Bontefract Sees., 1848, Stg. Trousers, 6 months.
Summary or
Otherwise,
stating
Particulars.
16 July, 184^, Rogue and Vagabond, 3 months.
25 July, 1853, Rogue and Vagabond, 14 days.
Periods and Places of Confinement, from Date of Committal to Removal to a Convict
Prison, stating whether in Separation or Association.
Käme of Jail.
Description of Confinement.
Months.
Days.
Character and Conduct.
Wakefield.
Separate.
3
21
Good.
86*
■», Qovtmor of Wakefield House of Cbrrection,
Date, 29 Mat'ch, 1856.
486
THE GEEAT WORLD OF lOHDOH.
The subjoined is the indorsement :—
Name, J R .
Dates of Committal, Conviction, Reception,
and Removal.
Committal ^December, 1855.
Conviction .... 4 Janitary, 1856.
Removed from ) Wakeßeld Prison.
Date 1 29 March, 1856.
Received in .. ) MiUbank Prison,
Date ) 29 March, 1856.
Removed from ) Died 8Ä. 35in. P.M.
Date ) 11 April, 1856.
IBrstriiitton.
Complexion . . Idyht.
Hair . . Brown.
Eyes .... Blue.
Height .... 5 feet 4 inches.
Description of Person . Rather slender.
Scars, Cuts, Moles, Marks, &c., on Body and Limbs.
Scar centre of forehead, scar on right jaw, mole near left
shoulder-blade, mole right arm-pit.
E-
.S-
Govemor of Wakefield House of Correction.
Date, 29 March, 1856.
The folio-wing, on the other hand, is the form of " summary con-viction" sent from the
police office with the prisoner to the place of commitment :—
Metropolitan
Police District,
to wit.
southwahk police cottet.
To all and every the Constables of the Metropolitan PoUce Force, and to the Keeper of the
House of Correction at "Wandsworth, in the County of Surrey, and within the Metro,
politan Police District :
"Whereas R R was on this day duly convicted before the undersigned, one of the Magistrates
of the Police Courts of the Metropolis, sitting at the Southwark Police Courts in the County of Surrey, and
within the Metropolitan Police District, upon the oath of "W H , taken before me in the presence
and hearing of the said R R ; for that he, on the Fifteenth day of September, in the Tear of Our
Lord, One Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty-six, in the Parish of Saint Gteorge the Martyr, in the County
of Surrey, and within the said District, did unlawfully assault and heat tho said "W H , con¬
trary to the Statute in such case made and provided.
And it was thereby adjudged, that the said R R , for the said offence, should forfeit and pay
the sum of Ten Shillings, and it was thereby further adjudged, that if the said sum should not he paid forth¬
with, the said R R should he imprisoned in the House of Correction at "Wandsworth, in the
County of Surrey, and within the said District, for the space of Fourteen days from the date hereof, unless
the said sum should be sooner paid, which said sum he hath neglected to pay.
These are therefore to command you, aud every of you, the Constables of the Metropolitan Police Force,
to take the said R R , and him safely to convey to the House of Correction aforesaid, and there
to deliver him to the Keeper thereof, together with this precept ; and I do hereby command you, the said
Keeper of the said House of Correction, to receive the said R R into your custody, in the
said House of Correction, there to imprison him for the space of Fourteen days from the date hereof, unless
the said sum shall he sooner paid.
Given under my Hand and Seal this Sixteenth day of September, in the year of Our Lord, One
Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty-six, at the Police Court aforesaid.
B C .
HOUSE GE COEEECTIOH, WAHDBWOETH.
487
GUOÜN D-PLAN OF WANDSWORTH PRISON.
A. OoterAot's Hottse.
B. Chaplain's ditto.
C. OaterGata.
D. ChapeL
B. Cenôal Hall.
F. Corrldon, with separate cells
on either side.
G. Kitchen.
H. Lanndrr.
I. Drying Ground.
K. Male Inflrmary Yard.
K 2. Female ditto ditto.
L. Soreeon's Besidence.
M. Assistant Chaplain's ditto.
N, N, K. -Wardeifs ditto.
10. Male Infirmary.
P. Female ditto.
athfCyàyt^f.g» Clerks'iGoyexnox's
and C^plain's offices, &c.
h. Bite for additional wing.
I. Coal Yard.
f "i.
mjs SmREY SOUSE OF CORRECTION, WANLSWORTS.
(FOR ALL CLASSES OP CONVICTED CRIMINAL OFFENDERS.)
The ascent of a mountain in the tropics, and gradual passage through the several atmos¬
pheric layers of different climates, reveals, as we rise above the plains, the mountain sides
prismaticaEy belted, as it were, with the rainbow hues of various zones of fruits and
flowers—the same as if we had passed along rather than above the surface of the globe—^from
the brilliant and glowing tints of vegetable nature at the tropics, to the sombre shades of the
hardier plants and trees peculiar to the colder regions, even tül we ultimately reach, at the
peak, the colourless desolation of the poles themselves.
But this journeying upwards through the various botanical strata, as it were, of the earth
is hardly more peculiar and marked than is the rapid transition now-a-days, while travelling
on some London railway, from town to the country ; for as we fly along the house-tops through
the various surburban zones encircling the giant Metropolis, we can see the bricken city
gradually melt away into the green fields, and the streets glide, like solid rivers, into the
roads, and cabs and busses merge into wagons and ploughs, while factories give place to
market-gardens, and parks and squares fade gradually into woods and corn-fields.
488
THE GEEAT WOELD OF ICE DON.
Perhaps this change, from civic to rustic scenery—this dissolving view, as it were, of
the capital melting into the country, is nowhere better seen than in a half-hour's trip along
the Southampton rail ; for no sooner have we crossed the viaduct spanning the Westminster
Eoad, and looked down upon the drivers at the back of the passing Hansoms, and the carters
perched on the high box-seats of the railway-carriers' vans, as well as the passengers ranged
along the roof of the Kennington omnibuses ; and had a glimpse, moreover, at the bright-
coloured rolls of carpets standing in the first-floor windows of the great linendrapery styled
" Lambeth House," than we are whisked into the region of innumerable factories—the tall
black chimneys piercing the air as thickly as the minarets of some Turkish city ; and then,
even with the eyes shut, the nose can tell, by the succession of chemical stenches assailing it,
that we are being wafted through the several zones of Lambeth manufactures. Now we get a
whiflf of the gutta-percha works ; then comes a faint gust from some floor-cloth shed ; next we
dash through an odoriferous belt of bone-boüing atmosphere ; and after that through a film of
fetor rank with the fumes fr-om the glazing of the potteries ; whereupon this is followed by
bands of nauseous vapours from decomposing hides and horses' hoofs, resin and whiting works ¡
and the next instant these give place to layer after layer of sickening exhalations from gas-
factories, and soap-boiling establishments, and candle-companies ; so that we are thus led by
the nose along a chromatic scale, as it were, of the strong surburban stenches that encompass,
in positive rings of nausea, the great cathedral dome of the Metropolis, like the phosphoric
glory environing the head of some renowned catholic saint.
Nor is the visional diorama that then glides past us less striking and characteristic than the
nasal one. What a dense huddle and confused bricken crowd of houses and hovels does
the city seem to be composed of; the very train itself appears to be ploughing its way
through the walls of the houses, while each gable end that is turned towards the rail is used
as a means to advertise the wares of some enterprising tradesman.
Now the cathedral-like dome of Bedlam flits before the eye, and now a huge announce¬
ment tells us that we are flying past the famed concert-tavern called Canterbury Hall. Then
we catch just a glimpse of the green gardens and old ruby towers of Lambeth Palace ; and no
sooner has this whizzed by, and we have seen the river twinkle for a moment in the light,
like a steel-plate flashing in the sun, than we are in the regions of the potteries, with their
huge kilns, like enormous bricken skittles, and rows of yellow-looking pipes and pans
ranged along the walls. The moment afterwards the gas-works, with their monster
black iron drums, dart by the window of the carriage ; and the next instant the old, gloomy,
and desolate-looking Vauxhall Gardens, with its white rotunda, like a dingy twelfth-cake
ornament, glides swiftly by. Then we have another momentary peep down into the road,
and have hardly noted the monster railway taverns, and seen the smaE forest of factory
chimneys here grouped about the bridge, with Price's gigantic candle-works hard by, than
we are flying past the old Nine Elms station. No sooner has this flitted by than the scene is
immediately shifted, and a small, muddy canal is beheld, skirted with willows ; and then
the tall metal syphon of the water-works, like a monster hair-pin stuck in the earth, shoots
rapidly into sight ; whereupon the view begins to open a bit, revealing Chelsea Hospital,
with its green copper roof and red and white front, on the other side of the river ; while
the crowd of dwellings grows suddenly less dense, and the houses and factories dwindle
into cottages with small patches of garden. Here, too, the London streets end, and the
highroads, the lanes, and hedges make their appearance ; while large, flat fields of the
suburban market-garden rush by, each scored with line after line of plants. Nor is it many
minutes more before these vast plains of cabbage and tracts of potatoes are succeeded by a
glance of sloping lawns and pleasant-looking country viUas, ranged alongside the raised
roadway; immediately after which we are in the land of raüway cuttings, with the line
sunk in a trough of deep green shelving banks, instead of being buried, as it was only a
few minutes before, among the sloping roofs and chimney-pots of the smoky London houses.
HOUSE OF COEEECTIOH, WANDSWOETH.
489
Another instant, and the train rattles through a Ettle tunnel, and then is heard the sharp,
shrill scream of the whistle ; whereupon • porters dart by the carriage windows, crying,
"Clapham Common! Clapham Common!" and the instant afterwards are landed at the
little rustic station there.
The House of Correction at "Wandsworth has, externally, little to recommend it to the
eye, having none of the fine, gloomy character and solemnity of Newgate, nor any of the
castellated grandeur of the City Prison at Holloway ; neither can it he said to partake of the
massive simplicity of the exterior of Tothill Fields, nor to possess any feature about it that
will bear comparison with, the noble portcullis gateway at PentonviUe.
To speak plainly, the exterior of the Surrey House of Correction is mean and iH-propor-
idoned to the last degree, while the architecture of the outbuildings exhibits aU the bad
taste of Cockney-Italian villas, and none of the austere impressiveness that should belong to
a building of a penal character. Again, the central mass rising behind the stunted gate¬
way is heavy even to clumsiness, and the whole aspect of the structure uncommanding as a
Methodist college.
Nevertheless, the situation is admirably chosen for the health of the inmates. BuUt
upon a gravelly soil, upon a large open tract of country, it seems to preclude the possibility
of an epidemic ever raging among the prisoners. Nor do we know a more pleasant and
countrified spot than the furze-tufted Common on which it stands, the view embracing a pano¬
rama for many miles round ; in the distance the Crystal Palace may be seen shining like a
golden bubble in the sun, whilst, looking towards the Metropolis, the Victoria Tower looms
with exquisite grace from out the gray background of the London smoke ; though, were it not
for this glimpse of the great city, the stranger might fancy himself miles away from the
Metropolis, so thoroughly primitive and half-desolate a look has the Common itself. Indeed,
the only buildings near are the Freemasons' Female School, with its high red brick central
tower, and the little roadside public-house, with its adjoining tea-gardens, beside the Tooting
Eoad. Nor is there any sign of the bustle or hurry of London life about the place, unless,
indeed, it be the occasional passing of the trains along the neighbouring lines of rail ; but even
then the white steam merely is seen issuing in jets at different parts of the earth as it travels
along, while the ground rumbles almost with a subterranean noise—for the rail runs far below
the level of the Common, and the passage of the trains can only be heard and felt rather than
seen.
^ iii—a.
The Sistory and Construction of the Prison.
In tiie final report of the Committee of Justices appointed to superintend the erection
of the House of Correction at Wandsworth, there is so lucid a history of the cir¬
cumstances which led not only to the construction of the new prison for the county of
Surrey, but likewise to the institution of houses of correction in general, that we cannot
do better than avail ourselves of this excellent narrative.
*#* Eistory of Souses of Correction in General.—" The chief of the earlier statutes against
vagrancy," say the Justices, " were :—
"The 7th Eichard II. c. 5, passed in 1383.
" The 11th Henry YII. c. 2, passed in 1426.
" The 19th Henry YII. c. 2, passed in 1504.
490
THE GKElï "WOHLD GE LOHDOH.
"By tlie first, justices and sheriffs, and the mayors, bailiffs, constables, and other
governors of towns, are required to examine diligently all 'faitors' {i.e., idlers) and
vagabonds, and compel them to find surety for their good behaviour. If they commit
a second offence, or cannot find surety, they are to be sent to the next jail, to remain
there until the coming of the justices assigned for the delivery of the jails, who ' shall
have power to do upon such that which there to them best shall seem to he done by
law.'
" By the second statute, which was passed for the purpose of mitigating the severity of
the former, the power to commit to the jail is taken away, and vagabonds and beggars are
directed, for a first offence, to be kept in the stocks three days and three nights, on bread
and water, and then sent out of the town. Eor a second offence, they are to be kept six
days and six nights in the stocks, on like fare.
"By the last of these statutes, such offenders are to be placed in the stocks for only one
day and one night for a first offence, and three days and three nights for a second ; and im¬
potent or aged offenders are not to be placed in the stocks at all.
" Such was the moderation of the law for the suppression of vagrancy," we are told,
" when Henry VIII. commenced his reign. Shortly afterwards, however, it was considered
necessary to provide other means for ' the punishment of sturdy vagrants and beggars.'
The statute passed for this purpose was the 22nd Hen. VIII. c. 12 (a.d. 1531), by which
justices are required to cause all persons, ' whole and mighty in body,' who shall beg, or be
vagrants, and not able to account how they get their living, to be whipped, and then to have
them sworn to return to the place where they were horn, or where they last dwelt three
years, and there put themselves to labour.
" The severity of this statute was greatly increased by the 27th Hen. VIII. c. 25 (a.d.
1536), which enacted, that ' a valiant beggar, or sturdy vagabond,' shall at the first time
he whipped and sent to the place where he was bom, or has been living for the last
three years ; and that if he continue his roguish life, he shall have the upper part of the
gristle of his right ear cut off ; and if, after that, he be taken wandering in idleness, or doth
not apply to his labour, or is not in the service of a master, he shall be adjudged and executed
as a felon.
" By the 1st Edw. VI. c. 3 (a.d. 1548), all former statutes on this subject are repealed ;
and it is enacted, that every person, not impotent, aged, or sick, found loitering or wandering,
and not seeking work, or leaving it when engaged, shall be a vagabond ; and every such
person, on being apprehended by his master, and convicted before two justices, shall be
marked, by means of a hot iron, with the letter V, and be compelled to serve his master
two years. If he leave before the expiration of such service, he shall be again marked, in
like manner, with the letter S, and be his master's slave for ever. A third offence was to be
punished with death.
" This statute was repealed by the 3rd and 4th Edw. VI. c. 16 (a.d. 1550-51), by which
the 22nd Hen. VIII. c. 12, was revived.
"In the 14th Eliz. c. 5 (a.d. 1572), which is little less severe than the 27th Hen. VTTT.
above recited, we find a long list of persons declared to be ' rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy
beggars.' Justices are required to commit them to the common jaü, or such other place as shall
le appointed ly the lench of justices, or not less than three of them, at any of their general
sessions.
" This is the first recognition of any place of confinement apart from the common jail, and
the reason given for it is, that ' the common jails, in every shhre within this realm, are
like to be greatly pestered with a more numbef of prisoners than heretofore'—summary
iwisdiction by this statute being abolished.
"By the 18th Eliz. c. 3 (a.d. 1576)j which was passed to amend the last recited Act,
one, two, or more abiding houses or places, convenient in some market or corporate town, or
HOUSE OF COEKECTION, WAHDSWOETH.
491
other place or places, are directed to be provided by the justices of every county, and to be
called 'Somes of CorrecUori—arid this is the first appearance of that title.
" For this purpose, the justices are directed to tax the districts under their respective
jurisdictions, and to appoint collectors of such taxes. They are also required to appoint
governors of these houses of correction, vrhich are to be erected or provided in one year,
or before the end of the second year, * or else the money levied to be repaid.'
"By the same statute, amended by the 39th Eliz, c. 5 (a.d. 1597), every person may,
during 20 years, by deed enrolled in the High Court of Chancery, erect, found, and establish
any hospitals, maisons dieu, abiding-places, or houses of correction, as well for the
finding, sustentation and relief of the maimed, poor, needy, or impotent people, as to set the
poor to work ; such hospitals or houses to be incorporated, and have power to hold fireeholds,
not exceeding the annual value of £200 ; but no such hospital is to be founded without
being endowed to the extent of £10 per annum.
"In the year 1597 two statutes were passed, the 39th Eliz., chapters 3 and 4, the
former entitled ' An Act for the Eelief of the Poor the latter, ' An Act for the Punish¬
ment of Eogues, Vagabonds, and Sturdy Beggars.' Until this period, provision was made
for both these classes by the same statutes ; hut they then became, and hare ever since been,
the subjects of separate legislation. By the latter of these Acts it was lawful (not com¬
pulsory) for the justices to erect one or more houses of correction within their several
counties, and to appoint a governor and provide all things necessary for governing the same,
and for the punishment of offenders. Herein summary jurisdiction is not only revived,
but it is extended to constables, headboroughs, and tithingmen, as well as to justices
of the peace, who, for the punishment of first offences in vagrancy, are empowered to
inflict a whipping on the offender ' untü his or her body be bloody.' Headboroughs and
tithingmen are, however, ' to be assisted by the advice of the minister and one other of the
parish.'
"By the 7th James I. c. 4, passed in 1609, it is declared that the laws for the erection
of houses of correction, and for the suppressing and punishing rog-ues, vagabonds, &c.,
'have not wrought so good effect as was expected, as weU for that the said houses of
correction have not been built as was intended, as also for that the said statutes have not
been duly and severely put in execution ;'—and it is enacted, that before Michaelmas day,
1611, there shall be erected, or provided, by the justices in every county where there is not
already a house of correction, one or more house or houses of correction, together with
mills, turns, cards, and such like necessary implements, to set the said rogues to work ; and
if a house of correction be not provided in any county by Michaelmas day, 1611, ' then
every justice within such county shall forfeit for his neglect £5, one moiety thereof to be
unto him or them that shaU sue for the same.' A governor is also to be appointed, who is
to employ the rogues, vagabonds, &c., committed to the house of correction, and to punish
them by putting fetters upon them and moderately whipping them. The prisoners to be in
no sort chargeable to the county, but to have such allowance as they shall deserve by their
labour.
"This statute was continued by two others in the reign of Charles I., after which the
times became unfavourable for the amelioration of the prisoners' condition. During a period
of considerably more than a century, little was done in this respect beyond the passing of a
few statutes, having for their object the repairing, enlarging, erecting, and providing houses
of correction, and rendering somewhat less severe the punishment of vagrants. The
effective superintendence and discipline of aU prisons, however, appear to have been greatly
neglected.
"Some attempts were made in the year 1701, by the Society for Promoting Christian
Knowledge, to obtain the introduction of a system of discipline in the prisons of London,
but their efforts do not appear to have been successM ; neither can it be ascertained that
492
THE GBEAT WOELD OE LONDON.
any benefit resulted from the 32nd Geo. II. c. 28 (a.d. 1759), by which justices are
required to prepare rules for the good government of all prisons, which rules, after being
approved by the judges, are to have the full force of law.
" Howard speaks of our prisons, both jails and houses of correction, or 'bridewells,' as
he calls them, as being, at the time of his first inspection, the scenes of filth and contagion,
of idleness and intemperance, of extortion and cruelty, of debauchery and immorality, of
profaneness and blasphemy ; and also as being places in which all sorts of prisoners—debtors,
and felons—^men and women—the young beginner and the old offender—were confined
together. His attention was directed to the state of our prisons in the spring of 1773, when
he became sheriff for the county of Bedford ; and we find that during this very year the statute
the 13th Geo. III. c. 58, providing clergymen to officiate in every jail in England, was
passed. In the following year he obtained the passing of the 14th Geo. III. c. 20,
' relieving acquitted prisoners from the payment of fees to jailers,' as well as the 14th Geo.
III. 0. 59, 'for the preservation of the health of prisoners in jails,' requiring that jails
should be kept clean and well ventilated, that infirmaries and baths therein should be
provided, that an experienced surgeon or apothecary should be appointed, that the prisoners
should be furnished with needful clothing, and that they should be prevented being kept
under ground, wAen it could le done conveniently.
" Howard intended this last statute to have effect in all prisons, but was surprised to learn
that it was applicable only to county jails, and did not, in any respect, affect houses of
correction. This circumstance led to the passing of the 22nd Geo. III. c. 64 (a.d. 1782),
explained and amended by the 24th Geo. III. c. 55 (a.d. 1784), by which justices of the
peace are required to cause all houses of correction to be inspected, with a view to their
being made ' more convenient and useful, having regard to the classes of the several persons
who shall be kept there, according to the nature of their crimes and punishments ; and to
the keeping every part of such prison clean and wholesome.' And they are required to
provide separate apartments for all persons committed upon charges of felony, or convicted
of any theft or larceny, and committed for punishment by hard labour, in order to prevent
any communication between them and the other prisoners. They ai-e also to provide sepa¬
rate apartments for the women, who shall be committed thither. By this statute various
rules, orders, and regulations, given for the better government of prisoners, are to be duly
observed and enforced, and power is given to the justices to appoint, if they see fit, a
minister of the Church of England to perform divine service every Sunday.
" These last-mentioned statutes may le considered as the commencement of a new era in the
management of houses of correction. Ever since they were passed, legislators and magistrates
have been alike anxious that prisons of this kind should be, as far as possible, effective in
the suppression of crime, and new laws have been from time to time made, and new regulations
adopted for the accomplishment of this great object ; tread-wheel labour was introduced
into most of the houses of correction in the kingdom, prisoners were subdivided into more
numerous classes, and the silent system was enforced; but the result of these several
changes was not satisfactory."
*#* Sistory of Surrey Souse of Correction at Wandsworth.—The Building Committee of
the Surrey Magistrates having given the above concise history as to houses of correction in
general, now proceed to speak of those for their own county in particular. " The magis¬
trates for the county of Surrey," they add, "have not been remiss in the care of the
prisoners under their charge. Under the provisions of the 31st Geo. III. c. 22 (a private Act
obtained by themselves—a.d. 1791), they caused the county jail, in Horsemonger Lane, to be
erected, and immediately after the invention of tread-wheel labour, in 1822, the houses of
correction at Brixton and Guildford were built. These prisons were constructed after the
best examples of prison architecture known at that time ; and as éxtensive a system of
HOUSE OF COERECTIOH, -WANDS-WOETH.
493
olasBÍñoation and discipline was at all times maintained in each as the nature of the
buildings and the number of the prisoners would admit.
"Koreover, at the General Quarter Sessions, held at Eeigate, in April, 1845, when the
attention of the public had become directed to the system of discipline on trial at Penton-
rille, a large Committee of Magistrates was appointed 'for the purpose of inquiring generally
into the present system of prison discipline and management in the county ; and into the
propriety of adopting the separate system in the coimty prisons,' &c.
" This Committee presented, at the Easter Sessions, 1846, its report, which was printed
and circulated amongst the magistrates. In it they stated it as their opinion, that the
separate system could not be introduced into any of the prisons of the coimty without their
entire reconstruction. They further stated, that these prisons were by no means in a satis¬
factory state, being neither in accordance with the recommendations of the prison inspectors,
nor, in some instances, with the strict letter of the law.
"This report was approved by the Sessions, but shortly afterwards the number of prisoners
in each of the several houses of coiTection in the county became so great, as to render
imperative the adoption of immediate measures for their proper custody. ,
" It happened, however, shortly afterwards, that the surgeon of Brixton prison presented
a report at the Kingston Sessions (October, 1846), in which it was stated that ' during
the winter months in the past year, fever of a severe form was very general throughout
the prison, which was increased in consequence of the overcrowded state of the cells, in
many of which four persons are often obliged to sleep, three of whom occupy a space of
only three feet nine inches in width, so that when epidemic or contagious diseases arise they
are much augmented.'
" This led to a Committee of twenty-two Magistrates being appointed, for the purpose of
ascertaining the best means by which adequate accommodation might be provided for the
prisoners of the county.
" This Committee presented, at the following Epiphany Sessions, a lengthened report,
of which the following is a summary :—
" That the deficiency of cells in the county could not be estimated at less than/oi<r
hundred and forty ; and if the Sessions should direct the discontinuance of the use
of the prison at Kingston (which the Committee recommended), a further deficiency
of about sixty cells would be thereby occasioned, making a total deficiency of five
hundred cells.
" That in consequence of this great deficiency, there were at the House of Correction at
Brixton no less than seventy cells, in each of which three prisoners ordinarily slept,
the dimensions of these cells being only eight feet by six feet, and eight feet high.
" That such prisoners slept on the floor of the cell, on two mattresses, placed together,
and under the same covering.
" That this was the case with males as well as females.
" That this deficiency led to similar results at the House of Correction at Guildford,
where the cells were only four inches wider, and a little higher.
" That the then existing prisons of the county were not capable of sufficient extension
to meet the deficiency, and that, consequently, a new prison must of necessity be erected
on some other site.
" That it was expedient that a new prison, capable of containing 750 prisoners, and
susceptible of further extension, should be erected on some convenient site, hereafter
to be determined on ; and that the Houses of Correction at Kingston, Brixton, and
Ghiildford should be abandoned and disposed of.
" That the permanent annual expenditure for the staffi and repairs in one larçe prison
would be so much less than in three or four smaller ones, as not only to justify the
increased outlay, but to render it desirable as a measure of economy.
á94
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
" This report, having been printed and circulated amongst the magistrates of the county,
was taken into consideration at the General Quarter Sessions, held by adjournment at New-
ington, on the 22nd day of March, 1847, prior to which the number of prisoners in the
House of Correction at Brixton had so greatly increased that not only were three and some¬
times four prisoners placed in a cell to sleep, but from twenty tg forty for some time had been
placed together to sleep on straw with blankets on the floor of the school-room ; and the
visiting justices of the prison, with the view of obtaining some relief, had solicited and
obtained from the Secretary of State pardons for twenty prisoners,* who were discharged
witiiout undergoing the whole of their sentences. An inquest also having been held near
this time at Brixton—as is required by law in the case of the death of every prisoner—
the jury added to their verdict, 'And we, the jury, request the coroner to forward a
representation of the great number of prisoners confined in this house of correction
beyond the calculated accommodation, for the consideration of the visiting justices, lest a
contagious fever should break out, to the great alarm and danger of the inhabitants of the
locality.'
" A state of things so extensively interfering with the due administration of justice—so
completely at variance with the enactment, requiring, as a general rule, that every prisoner
should have a separate sleeping-ceU, and that every male prisoner, without exception, should
have a separate bed—so dangerous to health—so subversive of morality and discipline—and
so repugnant to every feeling of delicacy, could not be continued. The Sessions, therefore,
resolved that a new house of correction for 700 prisoners should be erected, arranged as re¬
commended ; and the Committee was re-appointed to carry the same into effect.
" The Committee immediately commenced their labours. They resolved that the site of
the new prison should be within a müe of a railway station, and not further from London
than six or eight noiles."
*#* Capacity and Cost of the Wandsworth Prison.—"At the Sessions held in Midsummer,
1847, the Committee recommended the purchase of the site on which the prison has since
been erected, at the cost of £300 per acre, exclusive of buildings, trees, and crops, that were
to be taken at a valuation. It was stated to contain about 24 acres, but was afterwards
foimd to contain 26a. 2ii. 30p.
"A less expensive site could, no doubt, have been obtained at a greater distance from
London, but such a purchase would so have increased the cost of conveying prisoners, and
would have so interfered with the supplies of the prison by public competition, as to render
it one of obvious impropriety.
" The Committee also purchased about eight acres more land, in front of tixe prison, for
£350, subject to the condition that no building should be erected upon it except a lodge—
the prison being thus effectually protected from annoyance on three sides, whilst there is
little probability of any arising on the fourth.
"At the following Sessions (Michaelmas, 1847), the Committee, after much careful con¬
sideration, recommended that the separate system of prison discipline should be adopted in
the new prison, in which the Court concurred.
" The Committee ultimately appointed Mr. D. E. HiE, of Birmingham, a gentleman of
considerable experience in erections of this kind, to prepare the plans required, and to act
generally as architect during the progress of the work.
" These plans are uniform and complete for a prison containing 708 prisoners, on the
separate system, and are yet so arranged as to admit of the buildings being enlarged to such
an extent as to be suitable for 1,000 prisoners, without interfering with the original build¬
ings, or destroying their uniformity.
* The pardons of fifteen more nrere obtained ehortly afterwards, fdr the same reason.
HOUSE GE COKRECTIOH, WAHDSWOETH.
495
" The area enclosed within the boundary wall, including the wall and the residences of
the officers, &c., is 12a. Oe. Hp.; and including the gardens in front and the road on either
side, &c., 16a. 1b. 29r.
" The prison contains 708 cells, suitable for the separate confinement of prisoners, toge«
ther with 24 reception cells, 22 punishment cells, and 14 large rooms erected for misde¬
meanants of the first class, but generally used for prisoners subject to fits, or in other
respects improper objects for separate confinement. As there are at aU times some prisoners
m these large rooms, as well as in the reception cells and infirmaries, it is believed there
is ample accommodation in the prison for 750 prisoners.
"The contract for the main buildings having been executed, the works were com¬
menced early in the spring of the year 1849."
The gross cost of the prison, according to the statement of accounts appended to the final
report of the Building Committee, was as follows :—
£«.<?. £ s. d. £, 8. d.
Land, Mr. Potter 8,006 5 0
Ditto, Lord Spencer • 350 0 0
Buildings, trees, and crops 1,11000
Valuations, wages, taxes, tithes, &c. .... 374 0 3
Total cost of land, &c.
9,840 5 3
Main-buildings, amount of contract
Additional ditto . . . 3,867 6 7
Less works not executed £ 81 15 3
Less brick duty . 337 1 8
418 16 11
Total cost of buildings
101,000 0 0
3,448 9 8
104,448 9 8
Ventilation and warming .
Distribution of water
The well ....
Pumps ....
Pumiture, fittings, &c.
Gas
Locks, bolts, bells, &c.
Commission
Secretary ....
Clerk of the works .
Eoads ....
Printing, books, stationery, &c.
Insurance
Materials .
Miscellaneous
Balance in hand
4,401
4,655
988
648
2,546
1,015
1,772
3,663
289
586
662
195
30
552
11
12 6
10 3
10 0
3 0
5 3
17 0
8 11
18 0
5
17
8
17
2
7
3
7
0 0
9 6
1 8
136,308 19 7
4,010 11 9
140,319 11 4
496
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
" In considering the cost of the building, the prison must be regarded as one for 1,000
prisoners—sufficient land having been enclosed within the boundary waUs, and the central
haRs, the chapel, the kitchen, the infirmaries, the reception and punishment cells, the offices,
the pumps, the drains, and indeed all parts of the building, having been erected for this large
number of prisoners—although the extra 250 cells have not yet been provided."
*»* Reasons for Building the Chapel on the Sepaa-ate System.—" During the erection of
the prison, the Committee ascertained that some of the inspectors of prisons objected to
prisoners being placed in enclosed pews, or stalls, in prison chapels, that all the fittings of
this kind in the lai'ge prison at Wakefield had been removed, and also that in some prisons,
recently erected, the prisoners, whilst in chapel, are not in any respect separated, but are
seated on forms placed across the chapel floor, the back seats being slightly elevated. Under
these circumstances, all further proceedings in the preparation of fittings for the chapel
were suspended until the subject could be again considered.
" The chapel arrangements, as contracted for, corresponded exactly with those in use at
PentonviUe, and the objections raised to them were found to be :—
"First.—The possibility of the prisoners in adjoining stalls communicating with each
other, if not most vigilantly watched, by thrusting slips of paper under the doors
separating the stalls.
" Secondly.—The annoyance and confusion that might be, and sometimes was, occa¬
sioned by prisoners becoming ill, or pretending to be so, whilst placed in those
stalls, to which access could only be obtained by the removal of a considerable
number of other prisoners from their places.
" Thirdly.—The difficulty of getting the female prisoners and their officers in and out
of the chapel without being observed by the male prisoners.
" And Lastly.—That some chaplains prefer social worship on principle, and consider
that their ministration is more effective when the service is so conducted.
" On the other hand, the removal of aU partitions," adds the report, "must be regarded
as an abandonment of the principle of the separate system, and of the advantages presumed
to result from prisoners not knowing each other ; also as involving considerable risk,
owing to the number of officers being always smaU in comparison with the number of
prisoners, and as being scarcely in accordance with those statutary regulations required
to be observed in prisons respecting classification.
" The Committee moreover ascertained that by the adoption of a different mode of
fittings, involving the abandonment of some of the seats in the chapel, the prisoners in a
large number of the seats could be approached without interfering with any of the other
prisoners, and the means of communicating with each other above mentioned effectually
prevented. They also ascertained, that by the erection of a screen along one side of the
chapel the females could come in and go out without being observed by the males.
" These arrangements have been introduced, and an effective means of inspection pro¬
vided, consequently three of the objections have been in a great measure removed. With
regard to the fourth, whilst the Committee would treat with great deference the opinions
of those clergjrmen who would have social worship in prisons, they are aware that this
is a subject on which there is much difference of opinion, and they feel it would not be
prudent to give up this part of the separate system without greater experience of its ill
effects.
" The prison was opened for the admission of male prisoners in November, 18.51, and for
female prisoners in the April following."
Form of Sard Labour Adopted at the Surrey Prison.—" With respect to the best
HOUSE GE COHEECTION, WANDSWOETH.
497
means by which sentences to hard labour might be effectively carried out in the prison, the
Committee were of opinion, that tread-wheel labour is not only inexpedient on account of its
great cost, but also of its inapplicability to a prison conducted on the separate system ; and
they recommended that tread-wheel labour should not be adopted in the new prison, because
they considered that in a prison under the separate system, means for the individual occupa¬
tion of prisoners at efficient hard labour, in compliance with the sentences of the Courts,
should be provided in the cells.
" The best method by which this may be effected is by means of labour-machines, pro¬
vided that siich machines, unexceptionable in their construction, can be procured.
"Accordingly, 100 of the best labour-machines were bought, and they have been found
to answer the purpose for which they were intended.
" The only means of enforcing hard lalour properly so-caUed, in contradistinction to the
ordinary occupations of life, are the 100 labour-machines already mentioned, and the pumps.
All prisoners sentenced to hard labour, and passed by the surgeon as 'fit,' are put to the
machines when they first come into the prison, and are kept at them (making 15,000 revo¬
lutions per day) for terms varying from one month to three, if their sentences last so long.
The length of time during which a prisoner is kept at the machine varies according to the
length of his sentence and the necessity for transferring him, in order to make room for
fresh comers. "When the admissions are small, the prisoners are kept three months at the
least at the machines, if sentenced to so long periods ; but when the admissions are numerous,
this cannot always be effected. Prom the machines they are transferred to the pumping
classes, where they remain for a limited period ; after which they are employed in the
garden, or at trades, or at work about the prison, or in picking oakum.
" The employments for male prisoners, not being hard labour, are gardening, carpenter¬
ing, tailoring, shoemaking, matmaking, bricklayer's and smith's work, netting, painting,
and cleaning.
" The whole employment for female prisoners consists of work in the wash-house and
laimdry, picking coir, needlework, and cleaning.
"It is obvious, therefore, that a sufficient provision has not yet been made for the
effectual enforcing of all( hard-labour sentences ; and, indeed, for the female prisoners there
is no hard labour whatever except washing."
*#* Of the System of Prison Discipline at Wandsworth.—" It cannot, perhaps, be ex¬
pected that any proceedings in prisons will produce much permanent impression on the
minds of prisoners bom and reared in crime, and who have not only become fascinated with
the excitement of criminal life, but have no course open to them on their discharge from
prison, except that of returning to their former haunts of vice. Portunately, however, adl
prisoners are not of this hopeless class. Many of them have friends anxious for their welfare,
and ready to assist them in their efforts to obtain an honest Livelihood. They have, probably,
fallen in an unguarded moment, imder the influence of some strong temptation, or have been
led into crime by bad companions, into whose society they had fallen, not being sufficiently
aware of the evil consequences certain to result from such an association.
" On prisoners of this kind the discipline of the prison may reasonably be expected to
have a beneficial effect. The deterring character of the imprisonment, the opportunities for
reflection, the solemn warnings, the judicious advice, and the kind entreaties to which every
prisoner is subjected, cannot always be unavailing, and it is believed they have a satisfactory
result in a large proportion of such cases as have just been mentioned.
" Whilst, therefore, the discipline of this prison may be fairly expected to do good, it is
obvious that no prisoner there can receive any moral injury from it. The charge so fre¬
quently made against the associated system of discipline, that prisoners under it are generally
corrupted rather than improved, is here no longer applicable.
498
THE GKEAT "WOELD OF LONDON.
" It appears to the Committee, that it caimot be too deeply impressed on the mind of the
Court and the public at large, that the principle of the ' separate system' is not mitre
solitvÂe or silence, but the complete separation of prisoners from each other. It is, indeed,
an important feature of the system, that prisoners under it should hare frequent intercourse
with the governor, chaplain, surgeon, schoolmaster, taskmaster, and other officers ; and it is
satisfactory to report that no circumstances have occiirred in the prison to induce the Com¬
mittee to think less favourably of the system than when it was determined on by the
county, and they look forward with confidence to its entire success.
"For the juvenile offenders, no distinct provision has been made in the prison at
"Wandsworth, in the anticipation that some comprehensive measure for their treatment will
shortly be adopted. The consideration of this subject cannot prudently be much longer
neglected, since there is reason to believe, that whilst the aggregate number of prisoners has
considerably diminished, the number of juvenile delinquents has increased. A separate
school-room has been provided for them, and much time and attention is devoted to their
instruction, at the same time it must be confessed these alone are not sufficient to remedy this
serious evü ; it is, therefore, trusted that Parliament will provide at no distant period some
effective scheme for the reformation of this class of offenders, and thereby cut off from the
ranks of maturer criminals those dangerous recruits, who are now but too ready to unite
with them in the performance of the most daring crimes."
The Committee conclude by stating that "they cannot terminate their proceedings more
agreeably to themselves, than in congratulating the coimty on having secured the services of
a gentleman as governor so eminently qualified to superintend this great prison with effect;
and who, by his abilities and assiduity, conducted it through all the difficulties attendant
upon the introduction of a new system of discipline, in a new and scarcely completed
building, and who has now reduced it to a state of order which has elicited the admira¬
tion of those who are most competent to form a just opinion of its merits."*
* EITLES AND EEGULATIONS BELATINO TO THE CONDUCT AND TEEATMENT OP FEIS0NEE8 IN THE HOUSE OP
COERBCTION, AT WANDSWOETH, IN THE COUNTV OF BUEEET.
"The governor shall exercise his authority with firmness, temper, and humanity; abstain from all
irritating language, and not strike a prisoner. He shall bear in mind that the object of his duties, and of
those of all officers and servants under his direction, is not only to give full effect to the sentences awarded
to the prisoners during their confinement, but also to instil into their minds sound moral and religious
principles, and induce in them practical habits of industry, regularity, and good conduct. With this view,
while enforcing strict observance of the rules regarding labour and discipline, the governor shall be careful
to encourage any effort at amendment on the part of the prisoner, and shall require all officers and servants
of the prison, in their several capacities, to do the same.
" He shall direct that all prisoners on admission be placed in a reception cell, that they be strictly
searched, and that all knives and other sharp instruments or dangerous weapons, or articles calculated to
facilitate escape, be taken from them ; except as hereinafter provided with respect to debtors and mis¬
demeanants of the first division ; but in no case shall any prisoner of any class whatever be searched in the
presence of any other prisoner.
" He, or some other officer, shall, as soon as possible after the admission of a prisoner, note down in the
prison register, the prisoner's name, age, height, features, &c. ; he shall take charge of, and enter, or cause to
be entered, in the Prisoner's Property Book, an inventory of all money, clothes, and other effects which the
prisoner may have on his admission, or which, from time to time, may be sent to the prison for his use ; ho
shall take charge of them for safe custody only, and for the purpose of being restored as directed by one or
more of the visiting justices ; or (in the case of misdemeanants of the first division) as directed by the
rules for that class.
" He shall cause copies of such of the rules as relate to the treatment and conduct of prisoners (printed
in legible characters) to be fixed up in each cell, and he shall read, or cause to be read, such rules to. such
prisoners as cannot read ; and once in every three months he shall repeat the same.
" He shall enforce a high degree of cleanliness in the prison, as well as respects every part of the building
and yards, as the persons of the prisoners, thek clothing and bedding, and everything in use.
" He shall dkect that every prisoner wash himself thoroughly, at least once every day, and his feet at
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, WANDSWORTH.
499
On the day of our last visit there -were altogether 830 male and female prisoners located
in the prison, and these were distributed in the following manner :—
PRISONEBS IN CUSTODY AT THE 8UBEEY HOUSE OF CORRECTION, WANDSWORTH, 17TH SEPTEMBER, 1860.
Males.
Ward A 155
„ B 149
„ C 13
„ D 172
„ E 122
„ Infirmary—sick 17
„ „ nurses .... 2
,» ,, itch 1
,, Punishment 4
„ Reception 5
Total
640
Females.
WardF&G 71
„ H 106
... 2
Infirmary—sick
„ nurses .
„ itch
Punishment . . .
Reception . . .
Total
1
2
3
5.
190
General total 830
least once each week : and he shall see that each prisoner has a towel, a comb, and a sufficient supply of
soap.
"He shall direct that all prisoners, except misdemeanants of the first division, or unless they are excepted
by the medical officer, on their admission into the ptison, he washed in a bath before they shall be passed
into their proper wards ; but no prisoner shall be stripped or bathed in the presence of any other prisoner.
" He shall direct that in no case the hair of any female prisoner be cut, except when he thinks it necessary
on account of vermin or dirt, or when the medical officer deems it requisite on the ground of health ; and
that the hair of male prisoners he not cut except for the purpose of health and cleanliness. He shall see
that male prisoners be shaved at least once a week.
" He shall direct that all convicted prisoners, except misdemeanants of the first division, be supplied with
a complete prison dress, and that all such prisoners be required to wear it ; and he shall see that misdemean¬
ants of the first division he allowed to have the prison dress, if they desire it, and be required to wear it, if
their own clothes be insufficient or unfit for use, or necessary to be preserved for the purposes of justice.
" He shall direct that every prisoner he supplied with clean linen, including shirt (whether of linen,
cotton, or flannel), stockings, and handkerchief, at least once in every week.
" He shall direct that every prisoner be supplied with sufficient bedding for warmth and health.
" He shall direct that the prisoners have three meals each day ; and that at least two of these be hot.
" He shall direct that no prisoner he set to work immediately after any meal.
" He shall, under the direction of the visiting justices, make due provision for the enforcement of hard
labour in the case of such prisoners as are sentenced thereto. He shall also, under the direction of the
visiting justices, provide employment, with the requisite materials and instructions, for all other prisoners
(except misdemeanants of the first division, and prisoners for bail on sureties), and shall see that mis¬
demeanants of the first division have the option of employment.
" He shall direct that strict silence be at all times observed by the convicted prisoners : and the prisoners
shall be confined to their cells on Sundays, except when attending Divine Service or school.
" He shall see that no prisoner who is a Jew be compelled to labour on his Sabbath ; but such prisoner
shall he confined to his cell in the same manner as all prisoners on Sundays.
" He shall see that all prisoners, including those sentenced to hard labour, have such an amount of time
allowed to them for instruction as the vieiting justices may appoint.
" He shall allow prisoners to see their legal advisers on an order from a visiting justice. Every person,
however, claiming admission as a legal adviser must be a certificated attorney or solicitor, or his authorized
clerk.
"He shall not allow convicted prisoners to see their relations and friends until after the expiration of the
first three months of their imprisonment ; but subsequently to that period he shall allow them to receive
visits once in the course of each successive three months. In case of sickness or other special circum¬
stances, however, he shall allow convicted prisoners to see their relations and friends at other times ; such
special circumstances to be entered in his journal.
" Upon the special application of a prisoner of a religious persudbion differing from that of the Established
Church, he shall allow such prisoner to absent himself from chapel ; and in accordance with the spirit of
the law, with respect to prisoners of a religious persuasion differing from that of the Established Church,
he shall allow a minister of such persuasion, at the special request of any such prisoner, to visit him, in
500
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDOH.
t iy.—ß.
The Interior of the Prison.
On our summons at the boll and presenting our order from the visiting justices of the
prison, we were admitted by the warder, a tall silver-headed man, within the porter's-lodge.
He was attired in the uniform of the officers of the establishment, white trowsers, blue
sirtout coat, and cap with peak. The porter's-lodge is a neat little apartment on our right
hand, as we enter the prison gate, and suitably furnished. Its furniture consists of a
desk and stool for the warder, and several chairs, on which visitors can be seated, along with
order to give him the instruction and counsel which he would otherwise receive in his class or private cell
from the chaplain, under such restrictions imposed by the visiting justices as shall guard against the intro¬
duction of improper persons, and as shall prevent improper communications. (See Note.)
" He shall not permit the admission of visitors to prisoners on a Sunday, except in special cases by a
written order of a committing or visiting justice, and except in the case of a minister visiting any prisoner
of a religious persuasion differing from that of the Established Church.
" He shall allow prisoners to send and receive one letter in the course of each quarter of a year, unless a
visiting or committing magistrate shall have issued an order to the contrary, or unless he shall know a
suficient cause why any such letter should not be sent or received ; in which latter case he shall record the
fact in his'joumal.
" He shall inspect every letter to or from a prisoner, except such letters as are addressed to a visiting
justice or other proper authority ; and in every case where he shall deem it necessary to withhold a letter
either to or from a prisoner, he shall record the fact in his journal, and shall without delay lay such letter
before a visiting justice for his decision.
" The chaplain may inspect every letter to and from a prisoner, except those of misdemeanants of the first
division, and except such as are addressed to a visiting justice, or other authority.
" The matron, or some other female ofScer, shall search every female prisoner on admission ; and the same
course shall be pursued by her with reference to female prisoners on admission as that prescribed for the
governor with reference to male prisoners. All money or other effects brought into the prison by any female
prisoner, or from time to time sent in for her use and benefit, shall be transferred to the governor.
" Every prisoner, as a general rule, and as far as may be practicable, shall be kept in separate confinement.
" Such arrangements shall be made in the prison as the visiting justices, from time to time, shall consider
as best calculated to prevent the mutual recognition of prisoners.
" No prisoner shall be allowed to temain in bed more than eight hours during one night, except by the
direction of the surgeon of the prison.
"The visiting justices shall direct such books as they think proper to be distributed for the use of the
prisoners who do not belong to tbe Established Church ; and should examine hooks sent in for the use of
such prisoners, and reject such as they deem improper.
" They may, under special circumstances (by an order in writing by two or more of them), allow to
prisoners food, clothing, or other necessaries, besides tbe gaol allowance.
" They may, in special cases (by an order in writing, by two or more of them), suspend any of the rules
for misdemeanants of the first division, reporting the same to the Secretary of State for his direction
thereon.
« They may authorise any prisoner to be employed within the prison in the service of the prison, but not
in its discipline, or in the service of any officer, or in the service or instruction of any'other prisoner,
" They may, if they shall at any time observe, or be satisfactorily informed, of any extraordinary diligence
or merit in any prisoner under their inspection, report the same to the justices in general or quarter session
assembled, in order that such justices may, if they thnk proper, recommend any such offender to the royal
mercy, in such degree, and upon such terms as to them shall seem meet; and if her Majesty shaU thereupon
be graciously pleased to shorten the duration of such prisoner's confinement, such prisoner shall, upon his
or her discharge, together with necessary clothing, receive such sum of money for his or her subsistence as
the visiting justices for the time being shall think proper, so as such sum shall not exceed twenty shillings.
" Note. Soman Catholic prisoners, and Dissenters of every denomination, are desired to take notice, that
the clergyman of their religion will be sent for, when they ask for him, as he cannot come unless each
prisoner who wishes to see him makes a request to the governor of the prison. This notice is given in order
that all may have an opportunity of sending for a clergyman of their own religion, if they desire his
presence."
HOUSE GE COREECTIOK, WANDSWORTH.
501
a fire-screen. On the wall hangs a list of the visiting justices in a dark frame, together
with a list of the justices in the Central Criminal Court. Alongside the desk is a small
letter-box containing the letters sent to post by the officers of the prison as well as the
prisoners.
We were introduced by the governor to the chief warder, a noble specimen of a prison
officer. Though in mature life and his hair silvered, he is a man of great energy and
intelligence, with enlarged experience of prison discipline, and has been connected with the
prison for the last ten years. His dress was distinguished from the inferior officers of the
prison by having the neck and wrist of his sirtout and also the back embroidered with lace.
By the kindness of the governor, this active and accomplished superior officer accompanied
us in our visit of inspection over the prison.
nor be leas than fire abillings, in case auch offender shall have been confined for the space of one year, and
so in proportion for any shorter term of confinement.
" There shall he in each division a sufficient number of dark and other cells, adapted to solitary confinement,
for the punishment of refiractory prisoners, and for the reception of such prisoners as may bylaw he confined
therein.
" In case any criminal prisoner shall ho guilty of any repeated offence against the rules of the prison, or
shall he guilty of any greater offence than the gaoler or keeper is by 4 Geo. IV., c. 64, empowered to
punish, the said gaoler or keeper shall forthwith report the same to the visiting justices, or one of them, fór
the time being; and any one such justice, or any other justice acting in and for the county, or riding, or
division of a county, or for the* district, city, town, or place to which such prison belongs, shall have power
to inquire, upon oath, and to determine eoneeming any such matter so reported to him or them, and to order
the offender to he punished by close confinement for any term not exceeding one month, or by personal cor¬
rection, in the case of prisoners convicted of felony, or sentenced to hard labour.
" In cases of urgent and absolute necessity, a visiting justice may, by an order in writing, direct any
prisoner to be kept in irons ; such order to specify the cause thereof, and the time during which the
prisoner is to be kept in irons, such time in no case to extend beyond the next meeting of visiting justices.
" Every person who shall assault, or violently resist any officer of a prison in the execution of his duty, or
who shall aid or incite any person so to assault or resist any such officer, shall for every such offence, on
conviction thereof by the oath of one or more witnesses, or upon his or her own confession, before two
justices of the peace, be liable to a penalty, not more than £5, to be levied, if not forthwith paid, by
distress and sale of the goods and chattels of the offender ; or in the discretion of the justices before whom
he or she shall be convicted, may be imprisoned, with or without hard labour, for any time not more than
one calendar month, or if the offender be already under sentence of imprisonment, tben such offender, for
every such offence, shall be imprisoned, with or without hard labour, for any time not more than six calendar
months, in addition to so much of the time for which he or she was originally sentenced, as may then be
unexpired.
" The governor shall have power to hear all complaints touching any of the following offences ; that is to
say, disobedience to the rules of the prison ; common assaults by one prisoner upon another ; profane cursing
and swearing ; indecent behaviour, or any irreverent behaviour at chapel ; all of which are declared to be
offences, if committed by any description of prisoners ; absence from chapel without leave ; idleness or
negligence in work, or wilful damage or mismanagement of it ; which are also declared to be offences if
committed by any prisoner under charge or conviction of any crime. He may examine any persons touch¬
ing such offences, and may determine thereupon; and may punish all such offences by ordering any offender
to close confinement in a refractory or solitary cell, and by keeping such offender upon bread and water only
for any term not exceeding three days ; but he shall not determine any of these cases without previous
examination ; neither shall he delegate his authority in these matters to any other person.
" No punishments or privations of any kind shall be awarded except by the governor, or by a visiting or
other justice.
" He shall not, under any pretence, continue close confinement in any cell with bread and water for prison
offences for a longer period than three days ; but in the event of continued or renewed misconduct, he «ball
submit the case to a visiting or other justice, under the provisions of the 42nd section of the Gaol Act-
" He shall not put handcuffs or any other description of irons on a prisoner, except in cases of absolute
necessity ; and he shall enter in his journal full particulars of every such case, and give notice thereof forth¬
with to a visiting justice. He shall not continue handcuffs or any other irons on a prisoner longer than
twenty-four hours without an order in writing from a visiting justice, specifying the cause thereof, and the
time during which the prisoner is to be ironed,"
502 THE GKEAT WORLD OF LOlíDOIí.
On a table in the side of the porter's-lodge we observed several folio volumes of the
"Prisoners' Letter and Visit Book," with "Indices."
The chief warder stated, that on the Mends of the prisoners applying to visit, it is the
THE FOLLOWING ARB THE PRESCRIBED RATES OF DIET;—
CLASS 1.
Convicted prisoners confined for any term not exceeding seven
days.
CLASS 2.
Convicted prisoners for any term exceeding seven days, and not
exceeding twenty-one days.
Males.
Females.
Males.
Females.
Daily.
Breakjast.—1 pint of
oatmeal gruel.
Dinner.—1 lb. of bread.
Supper.—1 pint of oat¬
meal.
1 pint of oatmeal gruel.
1 lb. of bread.
1 pint of oatmeal gruel.
Daily.
Breakfaêt.—1 pint of
oatmeal gruel; 6oz.of
bread.
Dinner.—12 oz.of bread.
Supper.—1 pint of oat¬
meal gruel; 6 oz. of
bread.
1 pint of oatmeal gruel ;
6 oz. of bread.
6 oz. of bread,
i pint of oatmetdgmel;
6oz. of bread.
CLASS 3.
Convicted prisoners employed at hard labour for terms exceed¬
ing twenty-one days, but not more than six weeks -, and
convicted prisoners not employed at hard labour for terms
not exceeding twenty-one days, but not more than four
months.
Prisoners of this class employed at hard labour to have, in addi¬
tion, one pint of soup per week.
CLASS 4-
Convicted prisoners employed at bard labour for terms exceed¬
ing six weeks, but not more than four months ; and con¬
victed prisoners not employed at bard labour, for terms
exceeding four months.
Males.
Females.
Daily.
SrSDAY,
Thubbuay.
Tuesday,
Saiubday.
Mohday,
Wedn'sday
Feidav.
Daily.
Breakfast — 1 pint of
oatmeal grael ; 6 oz.
of bread.
Dinner.—\ pintofsonp;
8 oz. of bread.
Dinner.—3 oz. of cooked
meat, without bone;
8 oz. of bread; ^Ib.
of potatoes.
Dinner.—8 oz. of bread ;
1 lb. of potatoes.
Supper.—Same as break*
fast.
1 pint of oatmeal gruel ;
6 oz. of bread.
1 pint of soup ; 6 oz. of
oread.
3 oz. of cooked meat,
witbout bone; 6 oz.
of bread; ^ lb. of po¬
tatoes.
6 oz. of bread ; 1 lb. of
of potatoes.
Same as breakfast.
Males.
Females.
Daily.
Sunday,
Tuesday,
Thursday,
Satubdat,
Monday,
Wbdn'sday
Friday,
Daily.
Brealrfast.—1 pint of
oatmeal gmel; 8 oz.
of bread.
Dinner.—3 oz. of cooked
meat, witbout bone ;
It lb. of potatoes; Soz.
of bread.
Dinner,—1 pint of soup ;
8 oz. of bread.
Supper.—as break¬
fast.
1 pint of oatmeal gruel ;
6 oz. of bread.
3 oz. of cooked meat,
witbout bone ; ^ lb.
of potatoes ; 6 oz. of
bread.
1 pint of soup ; 6 oz. of
oread.
Same as breakfast.
CLASS 6.
Convicted priBoneri employed at hard labour for terms exceed¬
ing four months.
CLASS 6.
Prisoners sentenced by court to solitary confinement.
Males.
Females.
Males.
Females.
Daily.
The ordinary diet of their
respective Classes.
The ordinary diet of their
respective Classes.
SuKDATp
Tussdat,
ThUBBDATp
SATVaSAT.
Movdat,
Wnnir'snAY
Faidax.
Dazlx*
Breakfast.—1 pint of
oalmeai gruel; 8 oz.
of bread
Dinner.—^oz. of cooked
meat, witbout bone ;
1 lb. of potatoes; 6 oz.
of bread.
Breakfast.—1 pint of
cocoa, made of f oz.
ol flaked cocoa or oo-
coa-nibs, sweetened
with f oz. of molasses
or sugar; 8 oz. of
bread.
Dinner.—A. pint of soup ;
1 lb. of potatoes ; 6 oz.
of bread.
Supper.—1 pint of oat¬
meal ; 8 oz. of bread.
1 pint of oatmeal gruel ;
0 oz. of bread.
3 oz. of cooked meat,
witbout bone; \ lb.
of potatoes; 6 oz. of
bread.
1 pint of cocoa, made of
f oz. of flaked cocoa
or cocoa nibs, sweet¬
ened with 1 oz. of
molasses or sugar; 6
oz. of bread.
1 pint of soup ; \ lb. of
potatoes ; 6 oz. of
bread.
1 pint of oatmeal gniel;
6 oz. of bread.
CLASS 7.
Prisoners under punishment for prison offences, for terms not
exceeding three days 1 lb. of bread per diem.
Prisoners in close confinement for prison offences, under the
proviaions of the 42nd section of the Jail Act.
Males.
Females.
Daily.
Breakfast.—1 pint of
gruel; 8 oz. of bread.
Dinner.—8 oz. of bread.
Supper.—Ipint of gruel ;
8 oz. of bread.
1 pint of gruel ; 6 oz. of
Dread.
6 oz. of bread.
1 pint of gruel ; 6 oz. of
oread.
Ingredient! gf Bottp and Gntei.—The soup to contain, per pint, 8 ounces of cooked meat, without hone, 3 ounces of pota¬
toes, 1 ounce of barley, rice, or oatmeal, and 1 ounce of onions or leeks, with pepper and salt. The gruel to contain 2 ounces
of oatmeal per pint. The gruel on alternate days to be sweetened with f ounce of molasses or sugar, and seasoned with salt-
In seasons when the potato crop has failed, i ounces of split peas made into a pttdding may he occasionally substituted ¡ but
the change must not be made more than twice in each week. Boys under fourteep years of age to be placed on the same diet
as females.
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, WANDSWOETH.
503
duty of the porter to examine the visit book and learn if the visit is due ; as relatives or
friends of the prisoners, bj the regulations of the establishment, are only admitted within the
prison walls at stated times. If the visit is due, notice is sent to the governor's clerk
for the purpose of the necessary visiting papers being made out, which are forwaj-ded to the
chief warder, who sends the prisoner to the visiting room to meet with his friends. These
papers are returned to the governor's office in the course of the evening.
On the prisoners' letters being received, the porter looks into the letter-book to see whether
they are due, and should he find them so, writes the word " dm " on the cover. If other¬
wise, he writes " not due." They are forwarded to the governor's office for his examina¬
tion, or in his absence, to the chief warder, who officiates as deputy governor, and are
subsequently sent to the chaplain or assistant chaplain for their inspection ; after which they
are delivered to the prisoners. This is done in the event of thè letters being due. "When
" not due " they are reserved to be given to the prisoner on a future occasion. All letters
are delivered up to him on his discharge from prison.
Money is occasionally enclosed in letters to the prisoner, which is placed to his account.
Such sums are sometimes sent to enable those incarcerated to return to their friends. When
they are under twenty-one years of age, their friends are informed by circular of the date
of the discharge, and requested to attend to receive them.
Having asked the porter in reference to the letters written by prisoners to their friends,
he stated, " I enter them in a book, close them, and put them in the letter-box."
The chief warder called our attention to the non-resident officers' attendance book; that
is, those officers who do not reside within the prison walls. We found their names were all
carefully entered ; their time of coming on duty as well as of leaving duty. In the event
of their not attending at the proper time in the morning, it is the duty of the porter to
report the same to the chief warder for the information of the governor.
On the mantelpiece of the porter's-lodge lies a Bible, a beautiful symbol of the character
of this excellent establishment.
In the company of the deputy governor, we leave the porter's-lodge, and pass through
the courtyard, which is gravelled and carefully drained. We enter the prison by a flight of
steps, where one of the long corridors of the interior opens to our view. When near the
entry door the chief warder conducted us into the inner porter's-lodge, where a Crimean
soldier, one of the light cavalry brigade, who took a part in the daring charge at Balaclava
under Lord Cardigan, officiates as warder. He is a strong-built powerful man, in the prime
of life, more like a heavy dragoon than a light-armed hussar. In the lodge of the inner
warder, is a large yellow oaken cupboard. Here are contained the keys of the prison, all
systematically arranged and suspended along its interior during the night. The governor
then keeps the key of the cupboard, and at six o'clock in the morning it is delivered to the
chief warder, and given by him to the inner porter, when the keys of the prison are distri¬
buted among the different officers.
We noticed a dark painted tin box in the cupboard. The inner porter informed us, " It
is for the purpose of keeping the master keys belonging to the governor, surgeon, chaplain,
and chief warder."
The chief warder remarked, with reference to these master keys, " They are for the
external doors, cell doors, and mortice locks of the offices and lodges."
The inner warder, pointing to a deal table in the apartment, stated it is used for the
purpose of the governor or chief warder signing the reôeipts of prisoners delivered by the
prison vans for incarceration in the prison. In this apartment the male prisoners are dis¬
charged by the governor. Here they are ranged before him, seated at this table, before they
leave the walls of the establishment.
The inner porter called our attention to a book kept for inserting the names of visitors to
the prison, along with their address and the name of the officer who attends them. There is
604
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
a column for any observations tbey may make as to the arrangements of the prison. This
book generally rests on another small table in a corner of the lodge.
The inner lodge is on our right hand as we enter the prison. Alongside of it is the
clerk's room, and on our left is the prisoners' friends' waiting room, and the apartment occupied
by the assistant chaplain.
As we proceed into the interior beyond these ofidces, the passage widens. It is paved
with York slab, and the roof is arched and supported with iron girders and metal pillars.
There is an entry from the passage on each side—one leading to the courtyard in the direc¬
tion of the female prison on our left, and the other on the right, conducting us to the dead-
house and officers' water-closet.
Further along, we come to the governor's office and the office of his clerk, the visiting
justices' committee-room, a waiting-room for the prisoners' friends, and a water-closet.
We pass through a wooden door, iron grated and glazed, in the upper part, which is
generally kept locked. The circular range of apartments, last referred to, leads to a con¬
tinuation of the passage about the same width as the other corridors.
On each side, is a room for the prisoners receiving the visits of their friends, about the
size of two cells. A portion of the interior is enclosed within strong iron bars like the
cage of a menagerie, having a small gate to admit the prisoner, which is kept locked.
On the opposite side of the apartment is-a corresponding space for the friends, fenced with
similar iron bars, where they enter by a door from the passage. An officer of the prison
remains in the intervening space between these strong iron gratings during their interview,
to prevent any improper communication passing between them. The roof is arched as in the
other prison cells. The walls of the visiting rooms are painted of a yellow stone colour
tastefully pencilled, and the flooring is of Dutch tile.
There is a large room on the left-hand side of the passage leading to the central haU, used
for the purpose of assorting clean linen when received from the laundry. It is roofed and
paved in a similar manner to the prisoners' visiting-room, and has a fireplace and three glazed
windows, the partitions between the panes—as in the cells—being made of iron.
We now come into the wide central hall, which is lofty and well lighted from the roof
where we have a magnificent picture, in the fine, lofty, far-extending corridors radiating
around us, the passage along which we passed forming, as it were, a sixth corridor to com¬
plete the unity of the circular wings. Here we found several of the officers of the prison in
their uniforms lingering in the hall, engaged in their various duties, or actively flitting along
from corridor to corridor and from apartment to apartment. Several of the prisoners, with
masks, in their dark gray prison dress, consisting of jacket, vest, and trousers, and dark cap, are
engaged in cleaning the corridors. They have a curious and sinister appearance as they look
at us with hasty stolen glance through the eyelet openings of their mask, which screen their
features, as at Pentonvüle. As we stood in the central hall, with the deputy-governor by our
side, we saw a file of prisoners, in their prison attire and masks, pass along to the chapel
from the galleries in the corridors. Some of them were young boys, who tripped along with
an active, light tread, their hands crossed behind their backs ; others were young lads of
17, with vigorous, active step; while others were more advanced in life. Some were thin
and lank ; while one or two were of corpulent appearance. They walked along with mea¬
sured step, generally with their head stooping and hands crossed behind, several feet distant
from each other, under the supervision of two or three warders. In the centre of this large
prison the air was as clear and salubrious as in the meadows around the prison walls ; the
well-lighted cheerful-looking corridors were admirably clean ; and everything around us in
this prison, conducted on the separate system, wore a cheerful and business-like aspect.
In the centre of this spacious hall is a large stone of about nine feet in diameter, cut in
the form of a hexagon. It is surrounded by a strong perforated iron flooring about six feet
in width, giving light and ventilation to the storerooms below. The lofty and ample roof
HOUSE OF COREECTION, WANDSWORTH.
505
rises in a dome of the form of a hexagon, supported by strong iron girders, and lighted by sash
■windows along the side.
Each corridor has long ranges of cells along the two light and elegant galleries, in addition
to the cells on the area beneath, level with the central hall ; and are lighted at the extre¬
mities by large windows like those of a cathedral, nearly equal in dimensions to the length
and breadth of the end of the corridor.
The following are the number of cells in each corridor, and the number of prisoners in
them at the time of our visit :—
COKHIDOES.
Occupied at the time
Occupied at the time
Cells. of our visit by
Cells.
of our visit by
A.
I
48
46
D. 3
48
5
2
48
47
E. 1
38
38
3
47
44
2
39
37
B.
1
47
45
3
38
37
2
48
50
3
48
47
527
C.
1
65
40
In infirmary.
•
7
2
67
„ itch ward
•
4
3
67
„ reception ward
. 16
D.
1
45
46
——
2
48
45
In all
•
. 554
The corridors are respectively named A, B, C, D, and E. The basement cells are termed
No. 1, the first gallery No. 2, and the second gallery No. 3.
The infirmary is situated in the E ■wing ward, the itch ward in the basement of E, and
the reception cells are in the area below the central hall, where the stores are kept.
These five ■wings and the apartments and offices connected thèrewith are the Male prison.
The Female prison is a smaller compact building, of three wings radiating around a centre,
and is situated on our left hand as we enter the prison. Since the time when the descrip¬
tion of Wandsworth Prison appeared in an earlier portion of this work, about four
years ago, a new wing has been erected in a line with the passage leading into the
main prison, and another wing has been built to the female piison, both of which were
embraced in the original plan of the buildings, and give unity and completeness to the
male and female branches; so that it is now, in an architectural point of view, so far
as regards the completeness of its arrangements, one of the best correctional prisons, if
not the best, in the United Kingdom.
As we enter the central haU by the passage from the entry gate, we see on the left-hand
side a beU handle, which communicates with the governor's house. Alongside are two other
bells—one communicating with the reception ward, and the other with the female prison.
In a portion of the wall between the entrance passage and corridor A there is a square
cavity extending from the lowest range of cells to the top of the corridor, where there is
machinery to hoist the provisions from the kitchen in the area below to the various cells
above.
Before lea^ving the central hall we remarked there were two galleries around it commu¬
nicating with the different corridors. A, B, C, D, and E, and also with the chapel, which is
above the entrance-passage. There is a staircase on each side of the corridors leading to the
different galleries—one between A and B, and another between D and E. There is also a
staircase in the G wing, communicating with the galleries above and the chapel.
%• Reception Cells.—On entering the prison opposite to the lodge of the inner porter is a
506
THE GHEAT WOELD OF LONDOH.
stair leading down to the reception ward in the area below. There are 16 reception cells,
all of uniform dimensions. On measuring one of them we found it at top of the arched roof
9 feet high, and at bottom of arch 8 feet 6 inehes, and to be 5 feet 2 inches wide and 15 feet
10 inches in length. Each of those cells has an iron-grated window covered with glass, 2
feet 4 inches long and 2 feet 8 inches wide. In each window there are three ventilating
panes. Over the door of the reception cells there is an opening for ventilation, and under¬
neath the flooring there is another air passage.
Here the chief warder referred us to the engineer of the establishment for a fuller expla¬
nation of the sanatory arrangements of, these cells. The engineer stated—" The chief
warder showed you the air-flue in the outside of the prison. This air-flue communicates
with an apparatus for heating the air. The air is heated by means of hot water in pipes
passing through the building, and is distributed from a patented apparatus by ' Haden ' over
the passage, from whence it passes into the cells through apertures above the doors."
The chief warder having directed the attention of the engineer to the extraction of
the confined air, the latter explained—" The air passes into the extraction flue, of wh^ch
there is one in eveiy cell, connected with a trunk shaft on the top of the building."
In each reception cell there is a stone-coloured night utensil, the top of which is covered
with a wooden lid, and serves the prisoner as a seat ; and a metal water box painted black,
fixed into the comer of the wall, along with a copper wash-basin beneath it, as shown in the
engraving. The cell is whitewashed, tidy, and comfortable it appearance. Tl^e door has a
circular inspection-plate, through which the officers of the prison are able to observe the
movements of the prisoner from the passage, without entering the cell ; and under this
inspection-plate is a trap 10 inches long by 11 inches broad, for the purpose of conveying the
food and utensils to and from the cell. The flooring is of asphalte. On the outside of the
cell door is a small metal plate, with the number of the cell painted on it. On the prisoner's
ringing the beU this plate is thrown out, and does not return tiU put back by the officer.
We then passed into the receiving room, and were introduced to the reception warder.
This apartment is 21 feet square, and is fitted round with wooden shelves, for the purpose of
keeping the prison clothing to be given to the criminal while imdergoing his sentence. We
noticed a large deal desk in the room, for taking down the prisoner's description. This is
invariably done on his entering the reception ward. Within the desk are contained articles
from the pockets of the prisoners, kept here for safe custody, and carefully returned to them
on their discharge, consisting of tobacco boxes, pocket knives, pocket books, purses, watches,
pawn tickets, breast pins, &c., &c.
The warder brought forward the "prisoners' property book," in which all these articles
are carefully registered.
He also showed us the blank duplicates to be flEed up on the prisoner's admission, treat¬
ing on his age, education, religion, trade, place of birth, residence, whether he has parents or
not, single or married, &c. ; also giving his personal description, together with an inventory
of his clothing and other personal property.
Prisoner's Own Clothing Room.—This apartment is alongside of the receiving room,
and is about 20 feet long and 18 feet broad. The walls around are lined with wooden racks,
on which bundles of the prisoners' clothing are deposited. There are other two oblong racks
in the centre of the apartment, which also contains a charcoal stove. It has three
windows, 3 feet 2 inches long and 2 feet 2 inches wide, two of them provided with flaps for
ventilation. In the centre of this room there is a gas bracket, and over the door is a venti¬
lating aperture with a light iron screen on the inner side. This apartment is about the same
height as the reception cells.
As we looked around us on the bundles of tattered and half-worn clothing of various hues
and textures, we could almost fancy we were in a broker's shop or old clothes store in Rosemary
PRISONER'S MATTRASS, WANDSWORTH.
CELL INDICATOR, WANDSWORTH.
508
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
Lane ; only, tùe storeroom before us was more salubrious, and the material around more
carefully arranged. In some bundles we could detect the red coat of an unfortunate soldier
who had been guilty of some theft or assault ; in another we saw the good dark coat and
light fancy vest of a civilian, who had possibly lived a " fast " life beyond his income, and
was now incarcerated in the prison for embezzlement of his employer's property. There
was the rough working dress of a day labourer, which we could trace from the heavy hob¬
nailed shoes and blue smock frock ; and on another rack we observed the tattered clothes of
a wretched vagrant.
The chief warder, our most intelligent guide, remarked—" Ton will observe, sir, the
bundles are all numbered and arranged numerically,"
The reception warder, pointing to bundle 63, observed—" These belong to an Italian
who states he is an interpreter. He is an educated man, and of better class than the gene¬
rality of the prisoners. The bundle consists of a good black surtout coat, a light fancy
vest, a clean white ironed shirt, and a pair of drab trousers in good condition. He is middle-
aged, rather good looking, and of middle stature, and is imprisoned here for being guilty of
indecent conduct.
" this other bundle," said the reception warder, " belongs to a cripple with a
wooden leg, a tailor by trade, and of middle age. He was charged with wilful damage
to a pane of glass, and has been sentenced to twenty-one days' imprisonment." The
bundle, on being opened, contained a light jean coat, a shepherd's plaid vest, invisible
green trousers, with a dark braid stripe along the side, a clean white shirt, and dark
silk neck-tie.
" No. 695," the official continued, ''belongs to a prisoner brought here for wilful damage
to a pane of glass. He is a very strange little man, a dwarf, of 4 feet 5 inches high, and
about thirty-five years of age." The chief warder here stated—" He has been very fre¬
quently in this and other prisons connected with the metropolis." On opening the bundle
the clothes appeared to be a tissue of rags, unfit to be worn by any human being, and could
scarcely cover the nakedness of the wretched little man. "You wiU observe," said the
chief warder, " his clothes are of the very worst description, all hanging in rags and tatters.
He has no hat, and his shoes are without soles."
"Bundle 615," said the reception warder, "belongs to a deaf and dumb man, who is
middle-aged. Has been sentenced to prison for seven days, under the vagrant act. The
clothes consist of corduroy trousers, light-brown coat, and wide-awake hat, All of them,"
said the chief warder, " are in a filthy and disgusting condition."
Receftion Store Room.—Leaving the apartment in which the prisoners' own clothing
is deposited, we again returned to the reception room, where, as we have said, a supply of the
prison dress is kept. Along the wooden shelves around the room are piles of apparently
new clothing for the criminals, of the usual dark gray colour. There we saw large quautities
of jackets, vests, trousers, and caps with masks. We also found stores of blue striped cotton
shirts, flannels, and drawers, blue worsted stockings with white rings, and ?hoes.
The warder informed us—" This is a small stock kept in hand to furnish the prisoners
on being admitted to the prison. You wiU remark," he added, " the clothing is arranged on
the shelves according to the various sizes, and numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, and that the
articles are all marked with the prison type. The shoes," he stated, " are strong, and are
made by the prisoners. The clothes are made by them also."
On a large table in the reception room is displayed an assortment of braces, shoes,
stocks, register numbers, class numbers, and caps. There are scales and weights for
weighing the prisoners when they enter and leave the prison, with a standard measure for
ascertaining their height. This room has two windows of the same description as in tíie
prisoners' own clothing store, with a flap, for ventilation in one of them.
HOUSE OF OOREECTION, WANDSWOETH.
509
We proceeded to the SatTi Room attached to the reception ceUs. Here are four slate
baths. The hath cells are 11 feet 3 inches long and 4 feet wide, containing slate baths 6
feet long, 2 feet 1 inch wide, and 2 feet 1 inch deep They are supplied with hot and cold
water hy means of pipes, and have a waste pipe communicating with the main drain. These
bath cells are floored with asphalte.
The passage between the reception cells is floored with Dutch tile.
Before leaving the reception ward we visited the apartment where the prisoners' clothing
is fumigated and cleansed from vermin and offensive smeU. It is about 16 feet long, 10 feet
wide, and 9 feet high, and has a window with a flap for ventilation. There is a large iron
furnace here, with a great oven, provided with iron racks to contain bundles in the interior,
which are exposed to the action of the heat and the fumes of brimstone. On a large shelf
in the room we saw piled a considerable number of bundles of prisoners' clothing which had
been cleansed. " We keep them in," said the reception warder, " for twelve or fourteen
hours, when they are taken to the prisoners' own clothing room, where they are laid, in
b\mdles systematically árránged, on the shelves in the maimer already described."
The reception ward is situated under the long passage entering into the interior of the
prison.
*#* Cells.—Leaving the basement of the prison for the present, we returned to the
corridors to inspect the cells. There are no dormitories and no associated rooms here, as in
several of the other metropolitan prisons. The prisoners are all confined in separate
cells. On proceeding with the chief warder into a cell in one of the corridors, we found its
dimensions to be 13 feet long, by 7 feet wide, and 9 feet high. In size and arrangements it
is exactly similar to the others along the various corridors, and is very nearly as large as the
model cells at Pentonville, also on the separate system, the latter being 13t feet long hy 7^
feet broad, and 9 feet high.
The furniture consists of a small deal table, an earthenware night-utensil or water-closet,
covered with a wooden lid, which serves, as we have already said, as a seat to the prisoner,
anda small metal water box fitted into one of the corners of the cell. " By a water box,"
said the chief warder, " I do not mean that it contains water, hut is a shield for the water-
tap, to prevent the prisoners tampering with it." The water pipe communicates with the
night utensil and washing bowl. There is a gas jet in each cell. In a corner beside the
door there are three small shelves. On the upper one generally rests the bedding, rolled
up like a lady's muff, as seen in the engraving. On the other shelves are a tin plate, a
shining tin pannikin, a wooden spoon, a wooden salt cellar, two combs, a brush, and soap
box, with a Bible and prayer book, and one or more library books. The bedding consists of
a canvas hammock, a coverlet, two blankets, and one pair of sheets. There are two iron
hooks on each side of the cell, on which the hammock is suspended. The bed clothes are all
marked with the prison mark.
A copy of the rules of the prison is suspended on the wall, and a list of the dietary pre¬
scribed to prisoners by the order of Government. We also see suspended a card containing
the prisoner's name, offence, sentence, date of admission, expiration of sentence, his trade,
and previous committals (if any).
In each cell is a hell-handle, by which the prisoner is able to communicate his wants to
the ofdcer. This hell-handle communicates with the metal plate outside the wall of the cell
in the passage, on which is printed the number of the cell.
There is an inspection opening in the door of the cell, covered with glass and protected
with a light wire screen, and also an aperture for receiving the food, &c., as in the reception
cells.
Here we took particular notice of the dress worn by the prisoners. The clothing in this
correctional prison consists of a dark-gray jacket, vest, and trousers, a blue striped cotton
510
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
Bhirt, a pair of worsted stockings, a pair of shoes, a stock made of the same materials as the
jacket, a pocket handkerchief, flannel shirt and drawers, and a gray cap of the same descrip¬
tion as the clothes, with a mask covering the face, having eyelet-holes. A piece of alpaca is
inserted over the mouth for freer respiration. At first the mask was made of the same
materials as the cap.
On the left arm of the jacket is the register number, i. e., the number the prisoner bears
on the Register book. The white number in the jacket shown us is "2820." "This,"
said the chief warder, " is the number of his register when admitted into the prison."
" Every second year the registered number commences afresh. The ' 5 ' placed above
this number on the same arm indicates the class diet the prisoner is entitled to, which is
seen by referring to the prison dietary. Upon the back of the dark-gray jacket is painted in
white letters two inches long H.C.W.S., i. e., House of Correction, Wandsworth, Surrey."
On the left breast is a brass hook, with cell number also painted in white, referring to
corridor, division, and number of the cell.
Here we asked the chief warder to explain to us in a few words the preliminary
process before the criminal is brought to the cell.
He continued :—" When a prisoner is brought to the prison by warrant of commitment
signed by one or more of the magistrates belonging to the county of Surrey, or by an
order firom Sessions or the Central Criminal Court, he is taken to the reception ward, un¬
dressed, and a warm bath given him. He is then equipped in prison dress, and brought
up into the interior of the prison for the night. In the morning he is examined by the
surgeon, who pronounces him fit or otherwise for hard labour. The prisoners not sen¬
tenced to hard labour are also examined by the surgeon at the same time. The rules
of the prison are read over to them, after which they are sent, with their cards, by the
chief warder to their respective cells. We insert a copy of one of those cards which,
as we have said, is suspended on the walls of the cell:—"Registered No. 4781. Name,
J. F. Religion (in red ink), Roman Catholic. Age, 42. Trade, a labourer. Previous
committals, 2, Wandsworth. OflFenee, misdemeanour, unlawful possession of a pair of
boots. Sentence, two calendar months' hard labour. By whom committed, B. C., Esq.
Received 27th June, 1861. Expiration of sentence, 26th August."
On the back of this same card is written as follows :—" E, 1-38, June 28, unfit at pre¬
sent. E, 1-8, 2nd August, 10,000. Infirmary, August 6. E, 1-38, August 23."
"From this card you will see," said the chief warder, " that the prisoner was examined
by the surgeon on the 28th of June last, and pronounced ' unfit at present.' He was after¬
wards examined by tbe snrgeon on 2nd August, and considered fit to perform 10,000 revo¬
lutions. On 6th August he was taken to the infirmary, and discharged from thence on the
23rd, and finally liberated from prison on the 26th August, on the expiry of his sentence."
*#* Oakum Picking.—In company with the chief warder we visited several of the cells
where the prisoners were engaged picking oakum. This process has been fully and repeatedly
described in earlier portions of this work.
A great number of the prisoners of difierent ages were thus occupied, some of them
taking it easy, others labouring with energy to finish their allotted task.
Mat-making.—Passing along the various corridors, we inspected several of the cells
in corridor C, where the prisoners were engaged at mat-making. The chief warder informed
us twenty-eight persons were busy at this occupation. We were introduced to the trade
instructor, who showed us over his ward and gave us the necessary explanations. The mat
fi:ame, as shown in the engraving, consists of two strong upright beams fixed under the
arched cell by wooden wedges, with a heavy cross-beam slung by two short ropes to the heams.
A cross-bar at the bottom of the frame is festened down with ropes to pull the warp tight, so
HOUSE OF COERECTION, WANDSWORTH.
511
as to make the mats properly. Above the lower cross-beam a flat moveable board 8 inches wide,
and 5 feet long, and 1 inch thick, is inserted, with a narrow stick above about 4| feet long,
to reverse the warp. Sometimes they are longer when the mat requires it. There is also
another stick projected backward and forward by the hand. A common shoenlaker's kmfe
is used to trim the mat in the course of manufacture. There is also a beater with five blunt
iron teeth and a short handle, for the purpose of binding the fabric properly together.
These are the implements for making a common diamond cocoa-nut fibred mat. Each
mat-maker is famished with a yard measure for taking its dimensions. The mats are
made of cocoa-nut fibre spun into yam, and the workman in weaving stands in firent
of his work.
There are other mats made of cocoa-nut fibre yam plaited, having as many as twenty
strands in the plait. After being plaited by some of the prisoners, it is given to others
to be made into sennit mats.
We went to another cell, where we were shown a sennit mat. In the course of
being made it is fixed on a board with four iron pins, and worked with a sailor's palm,
needle, and pincers, a shoemaker's knife, and a hammer.
In another cell we were shown the binding of the mats. On coming from the finme
they are brought to a prisoner, who binds them with a needle, palm, and pincers. The deputy-
governor informed us that on the day of our visit six prisoners were plaiting sennit for
mats.
We visited a different cell, and saw the mats finished by being trimmed with a pair of
large garden shears, after which they are ready for sale.
Before leaving the ward for mat-making, we looked into several other cells, to see the
prisoners engaged at their work.
in one we saw a boy of about fourteen years of age plaiting coir yam and cutting
the strands with a shoemaker's knife. His mask was up. He had an interesting good-
looking countenance, and in his solitary cell appeared to be comfortable and cheerful.
In another cell we found an elderly middle-aged and quiet-looking man similarly engaged.
His head was bent down at his work as he busily proceeded with his toil. The cell was well
lighted, and the bright sunbeams shone cheerfully on his deal table.
In another cell we saw a young man of about twenty-six years of age busy at mat-making
in the trame. He appeared to belong to the lower orders, fi-om his countenance and manner.
The sun shone on the frame and mat, and he was active and business-like.
' «
In a different cell we saw another young man, about twenty-one years of age, engaged in
a like occupation. He stood by the mat firame with his shirt sleeves roUed up and his arms
bare. His white braces were tied in front of his dark-gray prison trousers. Like the other
prisoners, his mask was laid aside in his cell. He had a white band tied round his dark-gray
cap. When we left he was hammering at the mat with the iron-headed beater.
In another cell we saw a lad of about seventeen, pale-faced and good-looking, sitting
befijre his frame on a board laid across the small table, which was tumed up. He was putting
the yam into the fi"ame, and cutting it to the proper length.
In another cell the trade instmctor stood beside a prisoner, a boy of fifteen, taking the
dimensions of one of the mats suspended on the fi:ame. The lad had a dark string
tied round his forehead, to bind up his straggling locks. The chief warder observed—" that
in this prison the hair is not cut except for the purpose of cleanliness."
Having finished our inspection of the mat-making ward, we passed with the chief warder
by the large window in one of the galleries in corridor C, where a beautiful and extensive
prospect stretched aroimd us, beaming under the smile of an unclouded sky. We looked
around on a fair spreading vale, finely embroidered with hedgerows and trees, and dotted
with straggling cottages, hamlets, and villas, while beyond rose the graceful range of the
Surrey hills in the neighbourhood, crowned with woods waving in luxuriant foliage.
512
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
The landscape was beginning to assume the fading hues of autumn. We saw the train
sweeping along the lovely vale, with its wreath of steam and smoke.
Shoemaking.—We also visited the shoemakers' ward, and were introduced to the
trade instructor. He told us—" We have twelve shoemakers at work, mostly young
men. Three of them are experienced tradesmen; the others are employed as cobblers
mending the prisoners' shoes. The chief warder informed us that all the prison shoes
are made and repaired by felons in the establishment.
Two prisoners were then engaged in making harness, who were said by the trade
instructor to be good workmen. They are making a set of new chaise harness, with
German-silver fittings. "We can show you," continued the trade instructor, "some fine
specimens of shoemaking, both in the closing and making departments." Taking up a pair
of shoes, he said— " There is a pair of fancy shoes made by a prisoner that was liberated
a few days ago, who was with us for nine months. And here," he added, " is a
pair of gentlemen's boots, with side springs. The closing and making, in regard to work¬
manship, are fit for the best shop in London."
*#* Chapel.—Meantime the bell rang for chapel service, which required-the attend¬
ance of the chief warder. We left the corridor where we were inspecting the cells, and
followed the files of masked prisoners into the chapel, a cheerful-looking commodious
building, situated above the long passage leading into the prison. It is capable of con¬
taining 422 prisoners in separate stalls, 389 of which are enclosed. There were 12 open
stalls in the front seat facing us as we sat alongside the pulpit. When the stalls are
full 12 other prisoners can he accommodated on the staircases in the centre and sides
of the gallery. The engraving of the chapel presented in an earlier part of tiiis work only
grives one half of the gallery, with the inspection warders overlooking them.
The minister and clerk sit on elevated seats erected in the centre of the chapel somewhat
resembling the pulpit in an ordinary chapel, entering by a staircase behind. They sit along¬
side of each other, with a higher seat for the governor or deputy-governor erected between
them, and overlooking them, the governor's seat having a most commanding position, suit¬
able to his superior office. In front of the elevated seats occupied by the governor, chaplain,
and clerk, are inscrihed the apostles' creed, Lord's prayer, and ten commandments. In an
enclosure beneath the pulpit are the communion table, and two chairs covered with puce
cloth. Round the altar are cushions made of blue serge. Between this enclosure and the
bottom of the gallery is an open space paved with Dutch tile, about 26 feet long and 12
broad, in the form of a crescent.
The first block of seats on each side is similar in construction to those described in Pen-
tonville prison. The rest of the seats behind these and above are opened by doors in the
back and front. They are kept locked during service, and are unlocked after it is over, for
the prisoners to return to their cells.
There are galleries for the male and female officers ranged around the back and sides of
the pulpit, with two seats on each side of the area beneath. A high wooden partition
screens the females from the view of the male prisoners on the opposite side of the gallery.
In the centre of the gallery facing the pulpit a clock has been placed lor the convenience
of the chaplain.
There are places of inspection for the officers, generally two on each side of the gallery,
in front of the criminals, as at Pentonville.
The chapel is well lighted by numerous iron-framed windows in the sides and roof, and
is ventilated in the roof. In the winter season it is heated by Haden's patent heating
apparatus.
Off the chapel is a small vestry.
HOUSE GE COEEECTION, WANDSWOETH.
513
The priaôners enter the chapel hy means of two staircases communicating with the central
hall, and hy a covered bridge leading from the upper part of the A and E wings.
As we looked around us, the scene was a novel and peculiar one. When the prisoners
were seated in their stalls, while the assistant chaplain was conducting the service, and the
assistant teacher ofSciating as clerk in the responses, from our seat we could not see any of
the prisoners in the galleries with the exception of one little boy in the front seat, next to
the pulpit, on the one side, and a middle-aged woman and several young girls on the other.
The whole of the prisoners were fuUy under the inspection of the deputy-governor above
us, and of the warders over the galleries, hut were hid from our view. The middle-aged
woman listened with very becoming demeanour, read her prayer-hook, and attended care¬
fully to the service. A little girl about twelve years of age sat hy her side, with a well-
formed, pale, interesting countenance, and fair hair, very unlike a felon. She noticed us
to he a stranger, and eyed us with evident curiosity. The little hoy in the front seat was
clad in the dark prison dress. He was a sharp little fellow, with a keen dark eye, and had
been newly brought into prison. Though young in years, he had the caUous manner of an
old offender. He sat part of the time during service looking up to the chaplain with his
hands clasped in each other, with the greatest coolness and unconcern, as though the prison
to him was a familiar scene.
The prisoners stood up occasionally during the service, when we saw their heads peering
over the edges of the stalls. Most of them were from seventeen to thirty years of agë.
Some of them had a pleasing countenance, and not a few had a full intellectual brow. "We
only saw one bald-headed man among them. From our position we did not have so good a
view of the female prisoners in their blue prison dress, but from the slight glance we had of
them, they appeared to have generally a more degraded appearance than the males.
We observed the registered numbers on the separate stalls, corresponding with the num¬
ber of the prisoner's cell, which enables the warders to detect any impropriety during service,
such as scratching on the panels of the stalls. On one of the occasions when we were pre¬
sent at service, a complaint was brought before the deputy-governor that one of the prisoners
had scribbled in his stall.
In consequence of the large number of prisoners in Wandsworth prison, and the limited
number of seats in the chapel, there are four services held on Sundays, so that each prisoner
goes to chapel twice. The first service in the morning contains as many males as the chapel
can conveniently hold, about 400. At the second the rest of the males are present, and the
whole of the females. The third is attended by the whole of the females, and the portion of
the males who were at the second service ; and the prisoners who were at the morning
service are present at the fourth and last.
The first service begins at nine o'clock, the second at a quarter to eleven, the third at a
quarter to two, and the fourth at three o'clock.
By this arrangement both parties, male and female, attend chapel twice on Sunday, and
hear a sermon once.
The prisoners are unmasked while at divine service in the chapel, as well as while in
their separate cells.
Exercising Oromds.—We passed on to the exercising ground, situated on the north¬
eastern comer of the boundary waEs at the end of E wing. There are three circles in each
exercising ground. A warder patrols in the second or centre one, while in the other two on
each side of him the prisoners are walking at stated distances from each other. The outer¬
most and largest circle is for the stronger and more athletic men, and the inner for weak
persons and boys. At the time of our visit there were upwards of 50 prisoners exercising
on this ground. Between the outer and Second circles a crop of parsnips was planted, and
within the other circles potatoes had been recently dug up. The neighbouring ground in
38
514
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON".
sight between the D and E wings was planted with potatoes, onions, and cahhages. The pri¬
soners walked with their faces masked, and their hands behind their back, in quiet and appa¬
rently tboughtfnl attitude. They were very orderly during our visit, and scarcely a word
was uttered by the officers. The day was bright and sunny, which gave a more cheerful
tone to the scene. Each prisoner kept steadily about four yards apart. Sometimes
they came too close to each other for the purpose of talking, and were recalled by the manly
voice of the warders—" No. 44, not so close there," or " Not so quick, 48." The only sound
we heard within the grounds was the pattering of their feet as they steadily went round the
circles, and the occasional calls of the officers. Another warder walked neat to the outer
circle, to keep a sharp scrutiny over the prisoners. Both officers were attired in white
trousers, blue surtout coats, and caps with peaks, with a dark shining leather pouch, like a
cartouch box, slung behind.
They generally continue out for an hour each day in the exercising grounds, when
another detachment of prisoners take their places. Their movements are in a great measure
similar to those at Pentonville, so that it is unnecessary to give a fuller recital.
The chief warder pointed out to us, among the masked men exercising in dark gray dress,
the little dwarf whose tattered clothes we saw in the prisoners' own clothes store-room.
He had a very diminutive appearance alongside of the other criminals, and sauntered very
carelessly in a stooping posture. The prison dress was a comfortable change to him, as to
many others on the ground, whose clothes when at large are in a squalid and wretched
condition.
We noticed a taU athletic man, evidently of a superior order to the generality of the
prisoners, who had been guilty of embezzling the property of his master, a draper in the
metropolis.
Although the prisoners are masked to conceal their features, yet from the outlines of
their form as seen through the prison dress, and from their gait, they are generally recog¬
nizable by their ' pals ' and acquaintances in the prison.
The Pump Souse.—We afterwards proceeded to visit the wards where the prisoners
are subjected to hard labour. Leaving the exercising ground, and passing the end of D
wing, the pump-house presented itself to our view, about twenty yards from the junction of
the C and D wings. The greater part of the surrounding ground is cultivated and filled up
with leeks and cabbages. The pump-house is an oblong building about 54 feet long and 32
feet broad. The machinery runs along the centre of the building. There are twelve
staUs on each side, each of them fnrnished with a handle connected with the central
machinery, which, when set in motion, conveys the water into cisterns on the roof
of the prison. The prisoners are employeû on these machines an hour at a time, and during
that period rest three times for five minutes, so that they are kept working forty-five minutes.
They are in charge of two officers. One is stationed outside the building, and the other on
the floor above the men at the pumps, overlooking them. On each side of the pump-house
is a urinal and water closet for the use of the prisoners.
The warder outside walks round the pump-house, and attends to the wants of the pri¬
soners. It is also his duty to look after the changing of the prisoners, and to intimate the
same to the officer inside the prison, who prepares a fresh gang of men.
The duty of the officer inside the pump-house is to see that the prisoners do their work
steadily, and to intimate any irregularity or idleness in his report book to the deputy governor.
The number of revolutions performed at the pumps the day before our visit was 4703, which
is about the average number.
The prison and the other houses connected with the establishment adjoining the boun¬
dary wall are supplied by water drawn from an artesian well, 480 feet deep, immediately
beneath the pump-house.
HOUSE OF COEKECTIOH, WANDSWORTH.
515
The water is first conveyed into the main cistern, from which it is conducted through all
parts of the male and female prisons. Between 5000 and 6000 gallons of water are pumped
daily during working days.
We observed a wooden indicator, about 4 feet 6 inches in length, on the D wing, showing
the depth of water in the main cistern.
*#* Mill Mouse.—We next visited the grinding mills on the basement of A wing. In
this ward of the prison, wheat is ground by the prisoners in separate cells by hand-mills,
patented by Dean & Sons, Birmingham. They are turned by hand labour similar to a grind¬
stone, and are considered hard labour. The prisoners are kept three hours a-day on these
hand-mills, and grind on an average half a bushel during that time, when they are relieved
by other prisoners, who execute the same amount of work. There are twenty of these miUs.
Nineteen of them are in steady work, and one is generally kept unused for the miller to
dress the stones. The prisoners engaged at this hard labour fill up the rest of their time
picking oakum.
The miUs on an average grind a bushel a-day. They grind the wheat and dress the flour.
The passage between these cells is supported by iron girders and pillars, and paved with
York slab. There is a large bin at one end for the purpose of mixing the flour, and scales
and weights for measuring it. In the passage we observed two rows of sacks fiRed with
flour, bran, and wheat, besides a considerable number of empty sacks.
Each cell in this ward has an inspection plate, through which the officer can overlook
the prisoner at his toil ; and there is a signal plate outside the cell, by which the prisoner
can apprise the officer in case of necessity.
Ma/rd Labour Machines.—We also inspected the hard-labour machines in corridor
E 1, patented by Botten. They move by a crank hand, and perform on an average 12,000
revolutions a-day. The prisoner in the first cell we visited had to perform 12,000 revolu¬
tions ; some have only 10,000. There is an indicator on the machine to tell the amount
of work performed.
The hard-labour machine consists of an iron instrument in a square wooden box, supported
on a wooden cylinder, resting on a broad wooden base.
The chief warder, pointing to the hard-labour machine in the cell, said to the warder in
attendance :—" Open this, Mr. Hooper, and explain shortly the nature of the machinery."
" These weights here," said the officer, pointing to the weights enclosed in the wooden box,
<' are for regulating the pressure. This drum works within these two caps, one beneath and
one at the top. There is a tongue underneath here that acts on a roller, which also regulates
the pressure, and prevents the machine from being turned in any other way than one. There
is also a dial seen from the exterior of the wooden box, which is marked for 16,000 revo¬
lutions, and the hand signifies the number performed."
The pressure can be altered, and the hard labour consequently lightened or increased, by
removing the weights, or adding to them. The machine without the weights is 7 lbs. pressure.
Two weights added to it, increase the pressure to 10 lbs., and the whole of the weights
introduced brings it to 12 lbs.
The pressure of the machine is prescribed by the medical officer. There are 100
machines, all in E 1, some have wood and others have iron covers.
We went with the deputy governor over several of the cells to see the prisoners engaged
at this labour.
In one cell in E 2, we saw a lad of seventeen years of age, with reddish hair, and amiable
countenance, resting beside the machine, as if exhausted with the work. He soon after
resumed, and appeared to be good-humoured at his toil, working slowly and steadily;
occasionally tossing his head back to throw the hair from over his brow.
516
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
A young man sat in the comer of another cell with his cheek leaning on his hand, and
his elbow resting on the table. He appeared to be absorbed reading. The labour machine
stood beside him, with the handle pointing upwards, as if he were exhausted, and was
recruiting his strength, by taking a glance at some book which interested him.
In another cell, a young man, under the middle size, was stripped to his shirt and trousers
at the labour machine, bending over it with his temples bound with a handkerchief. His
movement was rather stiff, as though he were exhausted with the work.
In a different cell, a man stood by the machine with his one hand resting on it,
tired with the work, and was wiping his face with a towel. He was a heavy-browed young
man, apparently belonging to the lower orders.
School.—We accompanied the chief warder into the juvenile school-room, where we
were introduced to the teacher, Mr. Ellis, a silver-headed, kind, and intelligent ofidcer. He
was then engaged with his class. The pupils were ranged in stalls along the'back of a large
well-lighted airy room under the chapel. There were nineteen scholars present, ranging from
seven to thirteen years of age. They had on the dark gray prison dress ; their hair uncut,
and many of them of an interesting appearance, very unlike criminals. Many of them had
a clear and ingenuous expression.
One little pale-faced boy was reading his lesson to his kind-hearted teacher. " Three
of them," said Mr. Ellis, " don't know the alphabet, nor even the Lord's Prayer. Ten of
the class are able to read the Testament. The other six are in the primer." Some of the
boys in their separate stalls in the class-room were busy writing copies on their slate. One
boy had copied from a Bible, which lay before him, a verse of the 26_th chapter of Proverbs;
"As snow in summer, as rain in harvest, so honour is not seemly for a fool!" He was a
sharp-eyed lad of fourteen, with a finely formed countenance.
Another boy, with a clear, gentle, deep eye, was busy writing on his slate, " In all labour
there is profit." His fingers were dark with picking oakum.
One lad, with a dark eye and broad face, was writing over and over upon his slate the
word "property," in very neat penmanship. On the other side of his slate he had a question
in simple proportion.
Many of these boys had a well formed countenance, and most of them looked very
intelligent, more so than the generality we meet in the street. Some of them had a fine
full forehead. Their demeanour towards their ofiB.cer was respectful yet cheerful. The
school-room was well-lighted, better than many of the public schools over the metropolis.
On the walls were suspended a map of the World, a map of England and Wales, and
another showing the travels of Saint Paul. There was a large black board in the apartment.
The teacher sat beside a large table in front of his pupils.
There is a stove for heating the school in winter, and two presses with shelves for school
books, with pigeon-holes to contain tracts. There were a number of Bibles and Prayer-
books in the two presses.
From the juvenile class-room we went with the chief warder to the adult class, which is
taught in the chapel, and in that portion of it seen in the engraving. The assistant-teacher,
whom we saw officiating as clerk in the chapel, was here busy with his class. He stood in front
of it, in the elevated station usually occupied by one of the inspection warders, with the
Bible in his hand, and a large black board before him. On this board were written the
words, " The Lord is gracious, his mercy is everlasting, and his truth endmeth to all
generations."
He was engaged at the Bible lesson. The prisoners, who were of the same general
appearance as those we saw in the chapel, were very respectful. We heard the teacher chide
one of the men for frivolity, and threaten to send him out of the class-room. Others he com¬
mended in a kind spirit for the manner in which they read their lesson. They generally read
HOUSE OF COREECTIOH, WANDSWOETH.
517
in a quiet tone ; some with great stumbling and hesitation, and othérs very fluently. Some
of them had an engaging appearance, and had nothing in their countenance to indicate their
criminal character. There were forty-three in the class. While the others were reading,
the rest were writing on their slates, as,in the juvenile class-room.
The senior teacher, Mr. Ellis, informed us they had three classes a-day—two for adults,
and one for juveniles. The first adult class met four times, and the second and third
three times a-week. The chapel is generally occupied the whole day with the school and
chapel services. " Some of the juveniles" the teacher stated, "leam their letters in the
prison, and improve very much. Others are very hardened and careless, though their mind
is in other respects very acute. Some of them will not give attention to learning. Their
behaviour is in general good, though I sometimes have to bring a few refractory pupils before
the governor."
"Many of the adults," said Mr. Ellis, "display considerable acquaintance with Bible
knowledge, and all of them have a Bible in their ceUs. I have had long experience in
prisons under different systems of prison discipline—the separate system as weE as the others,
and have 130 scholars at present under my care. I go round and invite them, or they apply
to come. Boys under fourteen are compelled to attend the class. In the case of those
more advanced it is voluntary."
" In reference to the juvenile criminals, strange to say, some of them are able to write
who cannot read, and six of them cannot write." On turning to his note-hook Mr. ElHs
continued, " Two of the juveniles have been three times in prison ; one has been five times ;
two of them twice; and one four times. My decided opinion is that the chief fault in many
cases lies with the parents. The hoys are either the children of drunkards, or have lost their
parents and are without proper guardians. They are generally neglected or mistrained, and
have not had a proper opportunity of learning to do their duty."
*#* Th^ Bakery.—We also inspected the bakery, which is situated near the kitchen, and
were introduced to the baker. " I have to call your attention," said Mr. Claridge, " to the
two nine-hushel ovens made by ' Thomas Powell,' Lisle Street, Leicester Square, London.
They are registered, and are peculiar in their construction. The fire enters them by a
furnace heated with coals, and passes into a descending flue in connection with the boiler-
house shaft. These ovens are now coming into general use. The time they take to heat is
about three quarters of an hour."
Having inquired as to the work done at the bakery, Mr. Claridge continued, " I have
four men assisting me in the bakehouse. We commence to work at six o'clock in the
morning, when we put in the sponge with one of Stevens' patent dough-making machines.
This machine is superior to hand labour in preparing the dough. At seven o'clock the
assistant bakers (prisoners) leave the bakehouse to attend chapel. On their return they
clean and prepare the bread. After breakfast, the bread prepared on the previous day is put
into a basket ready for delivery to the storekeeper at ten o'clock, and carefully
weighed."
In reference to the preparation of the bread, the baker informed us, " The dough after
lying an hoiu: is thrown out by the machine and weighed off to he made into the several
loaves. The loaves are baked three-quarters of an hour. We generally have about four
batches. The ovens hold about 1200 of the six ounce, and about 1000 of the eight ounce
loaves. We finish work about half-past five, when the prisoners who officiate as assistant
bakers are taken back to their different cells.
" The bread remains in the bakehouse for the night, and is deEvered to the storekeeper
in the morning, as before stated. The bread is brown, of a coarse but wholesome quality.
In addition to this we prepare some of finer flour for the infirmary."
The bakehouse is situated at the end of the kitchen, and is separated from
518
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDOH.
the scullery by a passage leading to the female prison, and entered by a door always
kept locked, the key of which is kept by the baker. There is another door opposite
leading into the courtyard, communicating with the stores. The bakery is about forty
feet long and thirteen feet broad. The two ovens occupy the inner end of the building,
and there are three tables for " scaling " off the dough. The dough machine is close to the
ovens. There is a sink supplied with hot and cold water by means of pipes from the cisterns
above, and a bread-raclc on which to place the bread when taken from the ovens.
There is an extra trough in addition to the dough machine, which is seldom required.
The floor is paved with York slabs, and partly with Dutch tile. The apartment is high
and airy, lighted from a glass roof extending along the whole length of the bakehouse.
During the summer season an awning is suspended underneath the glass to screen the
sunlight.
kitchen.—Daring our visit to Wandsworth Prison, we several times visited the
spacious kitchen, which is a long airy apartment forty-flve feet long and thirty-nine feet wide,
somewhat similar to the bakery. There are three long dressers with shelves underneath.
Having asked Mr. Mumford, the cook, as to the persons employed in the kitchen, he
stated, " I have an ofiScer assisting me, and four prisoners. There are four seventy gaUon
steam coppers for cooking soup, gruel, etc., along with four steamers for cooking potatoes.
As to the work," he added, " we commence our duties in the kitchen at half-past five,
by getting the morning's cocoa and gruel prepared. Before this the night watchman comes
down to the boiler-house to get up the steam. At six o'clock the men come down to assist.
At a quarter before seven the cocoa and gruel are taken from the coppers, and at half-past
seven breakfast is sent to the female prisoners, and at the same time breakfast is
served out to the prisoners in the male prison. The bread is carried away in baskets, and the
gruel in tin pannikins, as described in the other prisons. At this time the cook draws
stores for the day's issue. Dinner, consisting of meat and potatoes, is prepared by one o'clock,
and sent up to the various corridors. And at seven o'clock in the evening supper is made
ready, when oatmeal, gruel, and bread are served out, which closes the culinary labours of
the day.
The butcher meat served out to the prisoners, as well as potatoes, are of good quality
and carefully prepared ; superior to what is generally sold in many respectable eating-houses
in the metropolis.
Punishment Cells.—We visited the punishment cells, which are fourteen in number ;
jeven of them being lighted with a smaU iron-framed window, and seven of them being
completely dark.
They have double doors, which are kept locked, to prevent effectually any communication
from without. We entered one of those dark cells which did not admit a single beam of light
when the doors were closed upon us, and all around us was as silent as the grave. The
furniture of these cells consists of an iron bedstead, securely fixed in the floor, and a
water-closet. There is also a beU to communicate with the officers of the prison in case oi
sickness, and a trap in the door to convey food as in the other cells. When under confine¬
ment here, the prisoners are kept on bread and water. There is no difference between the
fourteen punishment cells except that seven of them have an iron-framed window, and the
other seven have not. They are of the same dimensions as the ordinary cells in the corridors
above. The bedding at night consists of a straw mattress, two blankets, and a rug handed in
at nine o'clock in the evening, and taken away in the morning ; when a tub of water is given
to the prisoners for the purpose of performing their ablutions.
At the time of our second visit there were eight criminals in the punishment cells of the
Ttinlpi prison, for the following offences :—For shouting in ceU ; for exposing their features ¿
HOUSE, OP CORRECTION, WANDSWORTH.
519
■ for refusing to work, and insolence to officer ; for taking a library book out of another
prisoner's ceU when unlocked for chapel; for spitting on the leaves of, his Bible; for idleness
at hard-labour machine, and talking at exercise. We may add, that two females wère then
in the punishment ceUs of the female prison, one for eating soap, which is sometimes done
to get upon the sick-list, and have better diet, or to be relieved from labour ; and the other
was punished for disobedience to her officer.
In another cell, imder basement D, we saw a whipping-post, where juvenile criminals are
occasionally flogged by order of the magistrates. This is done by means of a birch-rod, both
of which are seen in the engravings.
Near to this cell is a padded-room, used in extreme cases for refractory prisoners. It is
similar to those in limatic asylums.
At the time of our second visit to Wandsworth Prison, the following was a classification
of the prisoners according to their respective employments :—
Mat-making
32
Cooper
1
Plaiting sennit
3
Upholsterer
1
Tailoring
17
Bakers
4
Shoemakers
14
Tinman, 1 ; bookbinder 1 . . ,
2
Mechanics—3 carpenters . . .
3
At pumps
24
Smiths
1
On the flour-müls
43
Labourers (53), including cooks
53
Unfit for labour in cell, on surgeon's
Stokers, 2; gardeners, 8 ...
10
list, yet not sufficiently indisposed
Cleaners and others employed about
for infirmary ....
3
24
Punishments
8
Whitewashers
8
In infirmary
10
Central haU cleaner
1
Oakum pickers
170
Chapel cleaners
2
Hard-labour machines ....
95
Sundry trades
11
Woodcutter
1
Painters
3
Total of males .... 544
Store-rooms.—We were introduced by the deputy governor to Mr. Goddard, the store¬
keeper, who led us through an extensive range of store-rooms in the area of the prison,
beneath the corridors. In one apartment we found carefully assorted piles of prisoners'
clothing, of all sizes; vests, jackets, trousers, caps, stockings, striped cotton shirts, flnnnpl
shirts, drawers, and shoes.
There was a large store of raw materials to be made up into prison clothes, as required.
Calico, for drawers ; canvas, for hammocks ; flannel, for shirts and drawers ; sheeting, for
shirts ; huckaback, for towels ; with other furnishings. In these general stores are arranged
articles for female clothing, such as striped shifting ; blue serge, for petticoats ; alpaca, for
veils, worn in the place of masks, etc.
There are, also, tastefully arranged stores of tapes, threads, cottons, buttons, needles,
pins, etc. "In addition to these," said the storekeeper, "we have materials for making
officers' uniforms; superfine blue eloth, pilot and doeskin, and chamois leather. The
prisoners' clothing," he informed us, " is also made by the prisoners. The officers' clothes,"
he also added, " are made and issued once a-year, consisting of a uniform surtout coat,
trousers, vest, cap, belt, and pouch. Also a great-coat once in three years, together with a
pair of shoes."
In the stores we found wools, for ipaking fancy mats ; silk-twists, for uniforms ; silk-
thread, braid, needles, and here are also racks filled with 500 or 600 new blankets, ready for
issue, with a number of yellowish-brown rugs, similar to those previously described.
There are huge bales of gray army cloth for prisoners' clothing.
WHIP, OR ROD, WANDSWORTH.
WHIPPING-POST, WANDSWORTH.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, WANDSWORTH.
521
We visited an apartment containing quantities of ironmongery for the use of the car¬
penters and other tradesmen in prison ; nails, screws, brass nails, etc. We also saw racks
piled with shoes, male and female, neatly arranged in sizes.
From this we passed into a general store-room containing numerous articles of prison
manufacture, such as clothes-baskets, bushel-baskets, bread-baskets, brushes, coir and fancy
mats ; also brushes of all descriptions, ceU-brushes, scrubbing, blacklead, whitewash, and
paint brushes, mops, shaving bowls, boxes for collecting dust in the cells, and mattresses of
cocoa-nut fibre, for the sick in the infirmary.
The store-keeper stated, " that the infirmary mattresses made by prisoners, from coir
fibre, were found superior to flock or horse-hair, and are preferred by the medical men in this
institution."
There we were shown a table covered with all sorts of tools required in the establishment ;
bakers' dough knives, and knives for shoemakers, bookbinders, and painters ; also hammei"8,
pincers, and gimlets, and other iron implements.
We accompanied the storekeeper and chief warder to the provision store, and saw the
bread received from the bake-house. The shelves around the room were full of large baskets
loaded with smaU loaves of two different sizes. There is bread of a finer quality made for
the infirmary of pure white flour. The common bread is of a coarser quality, but very sound
and nutritious. There are about fifty pounds of infirmary bread baked daily." The baker
stated, " these huge piles of loaves were baked the preceding day for the use of the
prisoners."
In this store was a large quantity of oatmeal, which we also inspected, with large bins of
rice, barley, sugar, yellow split pease, and chocolate-coloured cocoa-nuts. There are also
quantities of sago, arrowroot, mustard, pepper, and coffee.
We observed a windmill for grinding the smaU brown cocoa-nuts, like beans, for the
prisoners' breakfast. This cocoa is much superior in quality to what is generally sold in the
shops ; and, being ground and prepared in the prison, is perfectly free from adulteration.
There is also a weighing machine to weigh all the bread and provisions received in the store.
In another part of the store-room was a large puncheon of treacle for dietary purposes,
and a large block of salt, white as newly faUen snow.
In a comer of this store-room was a large heap of potatoes, which the chief warder
informed us were grown in the prison-ground. They are of the kind termed " Shaws " and
" Regents," of superior quality.
The stores, which are very extensive, farther contain a large quantity of whiting, bath-
bricks, jute, birch-brooms, oils of various kinds, sperm, sweet, and lamp; the lamp oils
being used by the engineers in the machinery, etc., and the sweet oils for the hand-lahour
machines.
We were shown into another store, where we saw stacks of the best pale yeUow soap,
several barrels of beer, bottles of stout, bottled wines, port and sherry, also brandy and gin.
The latter articles are supplied for the infirmary, and are at the discretion of the surgeon.
These stores are aU well ventilated, and kept by Mr. R. H. Goddard in a very careful
and systematic way.
We were next shown into the wheat and flour store, which contains a large quantity of
wheat ready for grinding, besides a considerable quantity of flour in sacks, and the offal
from the wheat termed bran. The wheat is of superior quality, weighing 62 lbs. a lyishel.
In this store is a " smutting " machine for cleaning the grain before it is sent to
the müls for grinding. On inspecting it, we were surprised to find the quantity of
dust and dirt which was extracted. It is worked by hand-labour, and secures greater
cleanliness.
We were next shown a large two stone bran-mül, erected for the purpose of regrinding
the bran made from the wheat, to extract the flour more effectually. This mill ig wrought
522
THE GKEAT WÜKLD OF L0H1)0]\.
by hand-labour. There are three compartments in the interior for fine flour, pollard, and
offal. From the peculiar way in which the stones are cut, the mill thoroughly cleanses the
flour from the bran.
On the following day we resumed our visit to "Wandsworth Prison, when Mr. Goddard
showed us over the remainder of his stores.
On entering a large store-room in the B basement, we found a huge pile of materials for
making mats. In one compartment we saw a stack of yellowish cocoa fibred yarns for mat-
making. They are technically termed " coir doUs." We observed bales of Bombay yam
for the same purpose, also large bags containing cuttings of the coir, commonly called
"ends," which are issued to female prisoners, and picked into fibre.
In the same store-room we saw bundles of picked coir of one quarter cwt. each. This
fibre is sold for many purposes. For example, it is disposed of to manufacturers for
mattress or cbair stuffing, in the place of horse-hair.
We also found large quantities of sacks made by the prisoners, and sold to farmers and
millers. The storekeeper stated, " He had about 1000 yards of sacking on hand." In this
apartment were stacks of diamond and sennit mats made from coir. " Here," said the
storekeeper, "we have fancy mats, rope and sennit mats, and there are always a large
quantity on hand. The sale of these articles," he said, " was very extensive." On looking
to various specimens they were evidently of good quality.
We were shown into a store of old rope or junk, where we saw a prisoner engaged
chopping it in pieces with a broad axe, for the purpose of being picked into oakum.
In an adjoining gloomy store-room were huge heaps of junk, and in another apartment
were bundles of picked oakum of half a hundred weight each, ready for sale. Also a large
pile of sacks filled with tailors' cuttings, and oakum waste sold for the benefit of the county.
We were afterwards introduced into a lighter and more cheerful store-room, containing
tubs, pails, and buckets, made by the prisoners, which closed our inspection of the vast
stores of this admirably managed prison.
We ascertained that the mats, rugs, etc., manufactured here, are not contracted fer by
mercantile establishments, as in Holloway and several other Metropolitan prisons, where
tradesmen are introduced to superintend this department. They are made entirely under the
inspection of the warders of the prison, and are afterwards disposed of by the prison officials ;
hence they generally have a great quantity of raw material and a large stock of manufac¬
tured goods on hand. The discipline of Wandsworth House of Correction is carried on with
military precision, but the arrangements at Holloway prison, in reference to productive labour,
are certainly iar superior, and are well worthy the serious consideration of the authorities of
the former prison, in many respects so excellently managed. At HoUoway there are no hand
labour machines, as at Wandsworth, used for no earthly purpose but for " grinding the
Mind." Every description of prison-work there has a useful tendency, and even the hard
labour on the treadwheel is ingeniously economized to pump water for the use of the prison.
^ iii.—A.
The Female Prison.
On entering the female prison, we were introduced by the governor to the matron, who
kindly allowed her chief warder to guide us over the interior.
We retraced our steps to a small apartment on the left hand side of the gravelled court¬
yard, in front of the male prison, where the female prisoners are received by the governor on
leaving the prison vans, prior to being admitted by the gatekeeper, a lady-like experienced
officer, within the female branch of the establishment. They are conducted along a covered
walk, paved with Dutch tile, leading by a grass-plot and through the matron's garden, to a flight
HOÏÏSE OP COßEECTION, WANDSWORTH.
523
of steps in front of the F wing. The garden is beautifully adorned with parterres of flowers,
roses, dahlias, and geraniums, and rare plants, while a row of young evergreen laurels festoon
the outer side of the entry to the female prison.
There is a small entrance hall in front of the prison, on the right hand side of which is
a door leading to the infirmary, and on the left to the matron's private apartments, of which
the female chief warder alone possesses a key, by which she can visit her at any hour of the
day or night.
*#* The Reception Ward.—We descend by a staircase on our left hand to the reception
ward, on the basement of F wing, which is about fifty-seven feet long and fifteen feet broad.
The roof is arched in the centre, spanned by iron girders, and supported from beneath on
metal pülars. It is floored with Dutch tile, and lighted by the glass panelled entrance door
as well as from the cells on each side, while the walls around are beautifully whitewashed.
There is a small desk in this ward where the reception warder takes down a minute descrip¬
tion of the various prisoners as they enter ; and also a large press where a supply of clean
linen is kept for the use of the prisoners, with a number of shining tins piled over it. At
the extremity of the ward, is a small recess, with a water-tap and sink for cleansing purposes,
as well as for the use of the prisoners.
On the right hand as we enter, there are two slate baths supplied with hot and
cold water, similar to those in the male prison, with footboards attached to them for the
convenience of the prisoners. There are eight reception cells in this ward of about the
same dimensions as those in the male prison, furnished with an iron bedstead, straw mat¬
tress, blankets and coverlet, and also a water-tap, etc., as in the other ceUs. They are
floored with asphalt, and well-lighted and ventilated. In dimensions they are twelve feet
seven inches long, six feet seven inches wide, and seven feet ten inches at the bottom, and
nine feet at the top of the arch.
We accompanied the reception warder to the prisoners' own clothing-room, which consists
of two cells, with a framework of racks in the centre, and others along the walls copiously
supplied with bundles of apparel of different hues and textures, carefully assorted.
" There," said the reception warder, pointing to the top of the centre racks, " are the
clothes of the prisoners confined for two years' for misdemeanors and felonies. For example,
here are the clothes of a schoolmistress, sentenced to three years' imprisonment for maltreat¬
ing a child who had been placed under her care, consisting, as you see, of a black dress, gray
shawl, black bonnet, and under-clothing ; and here is a bundle belonging to a woman to be
confined two years for robbing a man with violence in the Waterloo Road."
Turning to a series of racks in another side of the room, " Here are the clothes of
women confined for twelve months—being chiefly pickpockets, shoplifters, etc."
We found the most of the clothing in this room was in tolerably good condition, though
much of it was of a plainer sort, belonging to persons of the lower orders. The chief
warder informed us, " there is only one fashionably-dressed prisoner at present in custody."
On proceeding to another store-room of nearly similar dimensions, situated in the dressing-
room ward, where the prisoners are equipped in their own clothing before they are dis¬
charged, we found it to be of similar dimensions to the one described. We noticed the
bundles here were of an inferior description, some of them ragged and dirty, and without
a bonnet. The chief warder informed us, "These belong to prisoners mostly confined
for short terms of imprisonment—under two months and continued that, " they
chiefly belong to females guilty of assault, and drunken and disorderly conduct—some of
them paupers." The reception warder conducted us into an adjoining cell, and showed us
the clothes of a prisoner which had been spread out to dry. The smeU was very disagree¬
able. They consisted of an old ragged cotton skirt, the colours being almost obliterated,
another drab merino skirt, hanging in tatters ; an old dark jacket and cap -, the shoes were
524
THE GREAT WORLD OE LOHDOH.
old and rent, and covered with mud. " The clothes are in such a pitiable condition," ob¬
served the chief warder, " no rag-shop would receive them, yet they belong to a stout, good-
looking woman about twenty-six years of age, to be confined seven days for drunkenness."
The reception warder stated, " The generality of our prisoners consists of persons guilty
of petty felonies, drunken and riotous.conduct, picking pockets and shoplifting, coining and
uttering base coin."
There is a large cupboard in the reception ward containing shelves stored with various
articles of prison dress, consisting of blue woollen and brown serge petticoats, calico under¬
clothing, blue cotton jackets and neckerchiefs, gray jean stays, blue worsted stockings, white
calico caps, and small black alpaca veüs, used as masks, along with stout pairs of shoes. The
prisoners who wear fiannel on their admission to the prison, are allowed the same while
under confinement.
The dressing ward is about fifty-one feet long and eighteen feet wide, paved and roofed
similar to the reception ward, and consists of six cells, each of them furnished with an iron
bedstead. The prisoners are dressed and get their breakfast here prior to their being taken
to the governor to be discharged.
When the prisoners arrive, they are examined éither by the matron or chief warder, in
the small lobby at the entrance to the prison. They are then passed down to the reception
warder, when they are stripped of their clothing, bathed, and equipped in prison dress, and
after being inspected by the surgeon are taken to their respective wards.
In answer to our inquiry, the reception warder stated, " I enter all the prisoners in the
register, and afiSx the register number to the sleeve of their blue jacket, as weU as the
number of their cells."
Central Hall.—^We proceeded up a staircase leading through a strong iron-grating
on the right hand side of corridor E to the central haU adjoining, with three corridors radiat¬
ing around it. In the centre are two large well-chiselled stones of a sexagonal form, sur¬
rounded with a massive perforated iron-grating of like form, about six feet in diameter,
which gives light to the store-rooms on the basement. The central haU is about twenty-
four feet in diameter, having a lofty roof rising in the form of a sexagon, with sash windows
near the top. Each of the corridors is about 144 feet long, with a circular arched massive
roof, lighted by ample sky-lights, and with a long window at the extremity nearly the size
of the corridor. There are two gdleries in each corridor similar to the male prison, with
iron bridges at each extremity, and on the top of the rails is a truck to convey the prisoners'
food. The corridors are paved with York slab, and are furnished with food carriages to con¬
vey the trays with provisions along the lower cells. A circular staircase leads down to the
store-rooms below, between corridors G and H.
In the central hall, between corridors E and G, there is a brass bell-puU, connected with
a gong over the second landing. It is used in conducting the various duties of the day, and
is sounded by understood signals. There are three smaller bells, one communicating with
the front door, another with the matron's private apartment, and another with the chief
warder's sitting-room.
As we entered the inner hall, a long file of female prisoners in their dark gray cloaks
and alpaca veils, were returning from the chapel service. They entered by the door in frpflt
of the prison, and moved along with slow and measured step at stated distances, under the
inspection of several female warders, and dispersed to their respective cells in the various
corridors, presenting a very animated scene. The numbers of their cells and divisions are
attached to their cloaks in white letters, by which their officers are able to distinguish
them. As we passed, one of the prisoners had overstepped her place, and was recalled to
order by the voice of the chief warder, " Eall back, G 3.18," Several female warders were
stationed in different galleries as they passed to overlook their movements, many of them
HOUSE OF COERECTIO;!T, "WANDSWORTH.
525
elegantly attired in mourning dresses on account of the recent death of Prince Albert. Aa
the prisoners marched along with military order and precision, the matron glanced along the
corridors to see that her ofiScers were all in their proper place, when she returned to her
office. Soon after we observed her step into a cell opposite, where one of the prisoners—an
old woman, a cripple—had been absent from chapel.
We heard the slamming of the doors of the various cells. The chief warder informed
us, " It is the imperative duty of the warders of the different divisions to see that the cells
are properly shut."
Soon after we saw a number of male prisoners pass along one of the galleries of corridor
F under the care of a warder of the male prison, who had been engaged repairing and paint¬
ing an empty ward in corridor H. Meantime the gong sounded for dinner, when the store¬
keeper, attended by three prisoners, went down-stairs to the basement to receive the trays of
provisions from the kitchen, which were forthwith served up in the various corridors, as in
the male prison.
*#* MatrorCs Cleric,.—We were introduced by the chief warder to the matron's clerk,
who furnished us with the following list of the cells, and the manner in which they are at
present occupied :—
No. of Cells. No. of Prisoners.
14 8
Corridor F 1
2
3
„ G 1
2
3
„ H 1
2
3
Infirmary .
Reception ward
Punishment cells
21
23
28
29
29
24
29
20
22
23
18
21
19
29 not occupied, as it is under repair,
Total
The greatest number of prisoners in one day during the last year
The smallest number „ „ „
The average number „ „ „
25
10
0
0
166
210
134
170
The official staff consists of the matron, chief warder, store-keeper, matron's clerk, re¬
ception warder, infirmary warder, laundry warder, and assistant-laundry warder, eight com¬
mon warders, the schoolmistress and the portress, who also discharges duties as a warder in
corridor F.
We were shown a number of books in reference to the treatment of the prisoners, etc.,
carefully kept. Our attention was particularly called to one of them relating to R/^tvihti
Catholics. The following judicious regulation was prefixed to it :—
"The matron's clerk wiU from henceforth undertake, independent of the rules laid
down for the warders' guidance, to look to every prisoner of the Roman Catholic religion.
She will visit each after they are in their cell ; she will ascertain if they desire to remain
from chapel ; if they do, put a black distinguishiug mark on their door "—(here the matron's
clerk produced from a small drawer in her desk, a circular dark badge)—"report them to the
governor for-leave of absence ; enter the same in her book, which she will keep for the express
purpose.
•' In order to keep this very important rule in exact order, the clerk will lay her bpok on
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
the matron's office table every morning, taking particular care to call the matron's attention
to the same.
" In this hook are entered the nemes of the prisoners who are Eoman Catholics, with
memoranda as to when they were seen by the priest, their wish to stay from or go to the
ordinary chapel service, with their desire for books," etc.
The Laundry.—We followed a number of prisoners after dinner to the laundry, a
detached building, situated at the extremity of the H wing. We passed through the adjacent
drying ground. The chief warder remarked to us—" That in this ground the atmosphere is
particularly salubrious and pure."
The laundry is a large lofty building about fifty feet high, and forty-eight feet wide. We
found a number of prisoners busily engaged ; some were bending down washing, and others
stoning the fioor. There were two girls among them—one a young pickpocket, a fair-haired girl,
with a very interesting countenance. An elderly woman with spectacles was sitting by one
of the large windows, knitting stockings, while a plain-looking, robust prisoner, of about
thirty-five years of age, was cleaning a mangle. On looking around us, we found the
laundry was supplied with two mangles, and with a long deal table, for folding the clothes,
extending nearly the whole length of the apartment. On our left hand is another table,
also used for folding the clothes. In a corner of the room are six drying horses, heated from
a furnace flue, and near to it is a large stove for heating the irons. There are several
fiower-pots in the window with Australian onions—very rare plants—which are kept here
on account of the heat of the laundry.
The warder stated to us—" There are twenty-eight prisoners at present employed in the
laundry ; some of them very young, others of more advanced years. This is about the
average number. Nineteen are engaged washing, four of them are wringing the clothes,
and the others are employed in other operations. One woman is constantly employed here
mending the men's stockings."
In answer to our interrogatories, the laundry warder informed us—""We begin our work
at six o'clock in the morning, and finish at five o'clock in the afternoon. Excepting the time
spent at chapel and dinner, etc., we are employed in washing clothes for the male and
female prison."
We passed through folding doors at the extremity of the laundry to the washing cells, which
are nineteen in number Each of them is nine feet long, and three and a-half feet wide, with
stone flooring, the walls being whitewashed. Each is furnished with a washing-trough, sup¬
plied with taps of hot and cold water, and also with a foot-board. The prisoners were busy
at their work in the various ceUs, endeavouring to finish the task allotted them. A heap of
clothing lay on the fioor beside each of them, ready to be washed. There is a circular
opening, about an inch in diameter, in the door of each cell, in which the prisoner inserts a
portion of one of the garments to be washed, as a signal to the officer when she requires her
attention.
On going into another apartment with lofty roof, paved with Dutch tile, we found two
prisoners busy at the wringing-macbine : one of them, a young dark-complexioned girl of
about eighteen years of age, with a modest and interesting appearance, who had been
imprisoned for some petty felony—her first offence; and another good-looking young
prisoner of about twenty-two years of age. The machine was manufactured by Seyrig,
AUiott, and Manlowes, Lenton Works, Nottingham. While we were present they filled it
with shirts soaked with water, and on turning the two handles it whirred and clattered, and
by the rapid circular motion of twirling roimd, the wet was extracted from the clothes, and
fell to the bottom, and was discharged through an opening in the machine into a drain
beneath the fioor. On the garments being taken > out, they were thoroughly wrung, and
ready to be taken to the drying-machines.
HOUSE GE CORRECTION, "WANDSWORTH.
52?
On looking around us we found a large number of bundles of prison clothes piled against
the wall, consisting of towels, shirts, petticoats, etc. ; at the extremity of the room two
large rinsing tubs were supported on an iron bar, over a large sink. A prisoner was engaged
taking a quantity of shirts, caps, etc., from a large basket, and placing them in one of the
rinsing troughs, amid a cloud of steam. On our right hand was a pump for conveying
water from a large reservoir below into a cistern in this apartment.
We went into the adjoining fumace-room, and saw a large copper built in with brick,
and a furnace underneath it. There is another one alongside to heat the drying-horses, as
well as the water in a cistern for the use of the prisoners.
As we passed along corridor H, we observed a considerable number of the female
prisoners in their dark gray cloaks and alpaca veils on the exercising ground, and several
warders moving in a reverse order, overlooking them. Some infirm prisoners, and mothers
with young children, sauntered about the grounds.
As we proceeded along this corridor, we entered a cell set apart for the use of the
Roman Catholic priest. It is furnished with a small table covered with dark blue cloth,
and a chair, and hassocks for kneeling. The chief warder informed us that he brings a list
of the prisoners the priest wishes to see, these are brought down by the matron's clerk,
placed in the corridor, and sent to him separately, so that he sees them quite alone. The
matron's clerk attends to him. There is a pane of glass in the door of this cell, where the
trap would be in an ordinary one.
*#* The Teacher.—On being introduced to the teacher, she stated to us that there are
no classes taught in the female branch of the prison. " My duties," she added, " consist in
visiting the prisoners separately in their cells. I call on each prisoner on her entrance
into the prison, although she be only confined for a few days.
" "When I enter the cell, I ascertain if the prisoner is a Catholic or a Protestant. If a
Catholic, I say no more. But if a Protestant, I leam if she can read and write. "Very few,
as a general rule, are able to do so. A great number of the young do not know their letters,
and are very ignorant. Many of the young women, from seventeen to twenty-two years of
age, cannot read, and very few of the old are able to do so.
" I find," said the teacher, " that the young felons are often better educated than those
of riper years. At present I am engaged teaching twenty-eight prisoners the alphabet and
monosyllables in their separate cells, and to write on their slates. They advance to the
second class book after being proficient in the primer, should their time allow. It consists of
simple stories from sacred history. After this they are introduced to the New Testament."
The chief warder observed—"After they can read the New Testament, we consider
they -are able to read in the cell by themselves, and are then supplied with library books,
moral and religious, and on general information."
" Most of the females in this prison," cqntinued the teacher, " belong to the lowest order.
"We seldom have a well-educated prisoner here. In such a case, I generally supply them
with library books. I usually go round the cells at a quarter-past nine, and continue my
labours tiU six o'clock in the evening, with the exception of an hour for dinner, I find
my pupils, in general, to be tractable, but not very quick, in their learning. "With few
exceptions, they are very dull scholars. The young women are more attentive than the
younger girls, and make better progress. I often read to them in their cells, and many of
them are deeply interested in the narratives. They are not so fond of religious reading.
The elderly women are in general very obtuse.
" Sometimes I visit as many as forty in their cells in one day. At other times I have
only about fifteen pupils. The general average is about thirty-eight. I seldom remain
longer than five or ten minutes in the cell. I believe they learn better separately than if
formed into classes.
628
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDON.
*' I lately had a little girl under my care for three months. She did not bno-w her letters
when she came to the prison ; but before she was discharged she could read the Testament
tolerably well. I could adduce a number of illustrations of this kind.
*' I don't think that those prisoners who have made good progress in their education
come so frequently back as the others. Much depends on home associations. Many of
them are worse than homeless, as they have unprincipled parents. I refer to young women
from sixteen to twenty years of age, belonging to the unfortunate class.
" The female prisoners are in general very grateful for the use of the library books, and
I have no doubt these greatly cheer and benefit them in their cells. I seldom have to report
a prisoner for misbehaviour, perhaps not above twice in a twelvemonth, and these instances
have been for destroying their books, and not for insolence."
%* Punishment Cells.—"We visited these cells at the basement of corridor H, which are
very similar in their general appearance to those in the male prison. They are eight in
number, four of t\iem being dark. There was a little girl of twelve years of age confined
in one of them at the time of our visit, who had been singing in her cell, against the prison
rules. We saw her taken to the punishment cell by the chief warder, about an hour
before. She was drumming in passionate mood at the door of her cell. On our looking
in through the eyelet opening, we saw her sitting crouching in a corner of the cell, with
only one garment wrapt around her, and her blue prison clothes torn into a heap of rags by
her side. After we left, she continued to beat the door in a violent manner. The reception
warder told us " she was a very perverse, stubborn girl, and had been shown great
forbearance." She added, " that few of the prisoners are confined in the punishment cells,
and never until other means have been had recourse to."
On going into an adjoining light punishment cell, we found the furniture to consist of an
iron bedstead, water-tap, and water-closet, and a bell communicating with the main body on
the prison. One of the light cells is partially lighted through boarding firmly fixed on the
outside. It is generally considered to be a greater punishment than the dark cells. The
prisoners often beg hard to be taken out of this cell.
The dark cells have an iron bedstead with wooden centre.
The chief warder afterwards showed us a book in which reports of the prisoners' mis¬
conduct are entered, and the punishments awarded by the governor. "For the past fort¬
night," she stated, " there have been four punishments inflicted for misconduct ; one for
idleness, one for the prisoner taking needles from another cell, when the occupant was in the
exercising ground ; one for singing in her cell, and another for disorderly conduct on the
exercising ground. I have not seen any of the prisoners tear her clothes into shreds for the
past eighteen months, as the little girl has done."
The chief warder continued, " Talking is a very common oflence, and also marking the
painted stalls in chapel, but the latter has been considerably checked of late."
*#* The Storekeeper.—"We were introduced to the storekeeper, and descended a staircase
leading from the central hall to the store-rooms beneath. On being ushered into a neat
store-room, about the size of two cells, set around with racks, she observed to us, " This is a
store containing the new prison clothing ; there is a deal table in the centre of the room
used in cutting out the prison clothes. The racks are filled with a goodly assortment of
garments, consisting of grogram and blue petticoats, blue cotton jackets with small white
spots, flannel shifts and drawers, striped calico shifts, and blue neckerchiefs, packed in small
bundles of ten each, coloured cotton pocket handkerchiefs, calico day-caps, striped calico
night-caps, linen towels with a red stripe, drab jean stays, blue checked frocks for girls of
various ages, and neat little flannel shoes for children, made by an old infirm prisoner."
On shelves beneath were deposited a quantity of the prisoners' gray cloaks. Alongside
HOUSE OF COREECTION, WAHDSWOETH.
529
were webs of blue serge, grogram, and jean, and a stock of prisoners' shoes—all most care¬
fully arranged.
The storekeeper showed us the books of the store, " There," she said, " is a book which
contains an account of prison clothing for the male prison. For example, on 25th May I
received 707^ yards of shirting, and between the 5th and 27th June, at various dates, I
returned 283 shirts all made by the female prisoners. This gives you an illustration of the
manner in which these stores are kept. I take," she added, " à particular account of all
clothing made for the female prisoners, in addition to the cotton and flannel shirts, sheets,
towels, etc., for the male prison. I have twenty-eight prisoners employed at needlework.
The generality are employed picking coir, which I serve out to them at six in the morning.
Each prisoner gets 2 lbs. of coir a-day. The youngest of the girls have the same quantity
served out to them, and generally manage to pick it, but it is not binding on them to do so.
I also keep the property of the prisoners, which is carefully returned to them on their being
liberated."
The storekeeper showed us another book, in which an account is kept of the articles used
in cleaning, such as soap, soda, etc., and of the articles broken or otherwise destroyed, which
are replaced once a-week ; also a book stating the number of shoes sent to be repaired.
When returned to her, they are entered on the opposite page. There was another book in
which the articles of clothing condemned by the governor are inserted; and likewise
another volume containing the monthly returns of the condenmed clothing. We were shown
the prisoners' work book, in which is set down all the work done in the prison—picking
coir, needle-work and laundry-work. There is a book for keeping a daily record of this ;
another for a week, another for a month, and a different one for the quarterly statements.
We visited an apartment very similar to the last, containing a store of the clothing
in use. On each side of the room is deposited, on racks and shelves, a smaller assort¬
ment of clothing for daily use, together with a large quantity of blankets, rugs, and
hammocks.
On our left hand is the kitchen, consisting of three cells, generally used as the warders'
mess-room.
Opposite to the kitchen is the scullery, about the dimensions of three cells. It contains
a large rack copiously supplied with plates, as well as a series of shelves with cooking uten¬
sils, along with a sink supplied with hot and cold water. Two prisoners were here em¬
ployed, one of them was scrubbing with all her might, and the other washing some utensils
at the sink.
There is a large mess-room off the kitchen, with a series of cupboards for the use of the
warders.
Meantime a bell rang, and the storekeeper admitted a truck from the main store of the
male prison with a quantity of towelling and calico for drawers, to be placed under her
care.
We accompanied the storekeeper to a smaller store-room on the right hand side of the
basement under the central hall. There we saw a large rack containing pieces of the best
yellow soap, cut into various sizes, and placed in piles of ten. The larger pieces were for the
use of the laundry, and the smaller for the prisoners' use in their cells. They are so carefully
arranged, that the matron by a glance of her eye can teU the quantity on hand. On a
side table we saw a small machine for cutting the soap, which is executed with great
despatch. We particiilarly admired the exceedingly careful manner in which these stores
were arranged.
In answer to our interrogatories, the storekeeper stated, " My duties commence at six
o'clock in the morning, when I go to the chief warder to get the keys of the stores. I
have the assistance of one prisoner to serve out the coir, and about this time I return the
property of the prisoners who are to be discharged.
530
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDOK.
" I receive the breakfast from the kitchen, consisting of bread and gruel, at a quarter-
past seven o'clock. It is sent to me in trays, when I get it conveyed by the hoisting machine
to the different divisions, each basket being marked with its own letter and number. I also
attend to serve up the dinner at a quarter to one o'clock.
" In the course of the afternoon, I go round the cells and inspect the prisoners who are
employed at needle-work, and am busy the remainder of the day cutting out the clothes and
arranging for the next da^'s duties. The supper is served up at six o'clock." The store¬
keeper added, " Every quarter I take a particular inventory of the stock in my store, and
render a minute account of it."
*#* Visiting the Cells.—We learned that the prisoners are not classified over the various
corridors. Before leaving the female branch of the prison, we looked into several of the
cells, and found persons of various ages busy sewing, knitting, or picking coir. We jotted
down a few pictures as we passed along.
On looking into a cell we saw a woman of about forty-five years of age, seated in a
comer of her cell by a small table, picking coir. A brown heap of twisted material lay on
the floor at her feet. She wrought very actively with a modest, thoughtful countenance.
In another cell we saw a smart woman of about thirty years of age. A quantity of im-
twisted coir lay on the table before her. She was less expert in her work than the other
prisoner, although she appeared to be a person of more energy of character.
On the door of a cell, as we passed, we saw a dark badge indicating that the inmate was
a Roman Catholic, and did not attend chapel.
We entered a cell occupied by a woman and child, which was considerably larger tbi.n
the ordinary cells. The chief warder stated to us, " When a prisoner is received who has
an infant, we ^ve her one of the large cells adjoining the central hall, with an iron bedstead
instead of a hammock, a straw bed and bedding, similar to the other prisoners."
In another cell we saw a fair-complexioned young girl of seventeen years of age, con¬
fined for uttering base coin. She looked much older. We found her engaged sewing ; on
our retiring, she bent on the table and wept.
Before leaving, on the third day of our visit, we visited the cell where the little girl was
confined, whom we had seen in the punishment cell. She was clad in another prison dress,
and was reading a book, and appeared to be quiet and subdued in her manner. She bail
been subjected to a punishment of bread and water for two days. From her card we found
she was under confinement for picking pockets ; there was nothing remarkable in her
appearance.
The storekeeper informed us, " The great mass of the prisoners of various ^es are inferior
needlewomen. Many come here who cannot sew, but who become tolerably proficient
before they leave the prison. At first," she observed, " we give them towels and handker¬
chiefs to hem. As they progress, they get better work, such as shirts and day-caps. We
have no fine work for them. Some are very awkward, and others are tolerably good
sewers. I teach them to sew, and find them very grateful for my instruction. Some
of them are able to sew their own dress by the time their sentence expires; they are not
instructed in shaping."
In reference to those who pick coir, she added, " Some are as expert the first day as
when their punishment expires."
A Eetubn oe the Teems op Impeisonment, and Sentences op Ceiminal Peisonees Conpinbd in the House of Coeeectioh, at Wandswoeth,
dueino the Yeae endino the 29th SeFTEHEEE, 1861.
Prisoners of Seventeen Years of Age, and upwards.
Terms of Imprisonment
of Session, Central f
Criminal Court, and Ç
Assize Prisoners J
Terms of Imprisonment 1
under Summary Con- >■
Fictions )
Total.,
h ?
TS
M.
339
339
F.
319
319
I"!
pO .
.If
II
M. I F.
486 337
488 338
"g .
£ Ö|
S'd w
M. F.
330
338
171
177
§t|
O s
M. F,
12
226
238
70
bII
M. F,
74
49
337
386
21
128
•Ö C
§ ^
59 ^
II
oO
S s.
« o
m"®
s
œ B
M.
86
104
149 ! 190
F.
37
63
100
♦Ö
S o
fr ,
st §
iSSi
® o
M
116
115
F.
25
25
§1
^1.
i
EH
M. F
TSi- 3
■S ® g
M. F,
M.
nt»
*0
."S ä
M. F.
117
117
63
I
<1
3
O
M
M. F.
277
18221088
63
20991183
0
si
HcS
■oâ
S2
1
O
95 372
2910
3282
Prisoners under Seventeen Years of Age.
Terms of Imprisonment
of Session, Central r
Criminal Court, and C
Assize Prisoners J
Terms of Imprisonment ')
under Summary Con- >
Fictions J
Total
Under Fourteen
Bays.
Fourteen Bays
and under One
Month.
One Month and
under Two
Months.
Two Months and
under Three
Months.
Three Months
and under Six
Months.
Six Months and
under One Year.
One Year and
under Two
j Years.
■a
S .
CB 'S
tSI.
fe
H
XTnlimited Term
of
Imprisonment.
Whipped.
o a
•3
noo
•tí
ts §
¿<2
Total Javeniles.
Orand Total of
both Sexes.
M.
F.
M.
F.
M.
F.
M.
F.
M.
F.
M.
F.
M.
F.
M.
F.
M.
F.
M.
M.
F.
M.
P.
92
10
2
188
18
2
145
1
17
18
6
83
.89
14
14
4
116
13
4
9
1
4
14
...
...
"•
...
64
...
...
32
633
2
Í6
34
709
92
10
190
18
147
120
13
13
5
14
...
...
...
...
...
64
...
...
665
78
743
A Rbtttbn op thb ifttubxb op paibobbbs bpceivbd at the hoitsb oí cobbkction, Wandswobth comuoni dubibo the Yeab endino 29th Seftehbeb, 1861,
Offenoe,
Felony
Miedemeonor
Vagrants
Poachers
Excise
Customs
Rogue and Vaga¬
bond
Insubordination
(Adults
ition j
Total"
Prisoners of 17 Years of Age
and Upwards.
M. P.
167
33
200
71
3
74
Ti
a
!-•
és
■go
'S
u
U
M. F.
39
30
69
9
11
20
M. F.
Prisoners under 17 Years
of Age.
M.
22
24
F.
•3
a
O s
-a 3
|o
§
o
M.
F.
M,
Prisoners of 17 Years of Age and
Upwards, Summarily Convicted.
§■2
N S
■®a
M. F.
409 323
639 330
284 279
2 ..
4I
I
248
34
öS
H
M.
49
61
33
4
28
1595 969 175
F.
6
7
13
31
■â|
u S
m®
M.
17
F.
M. F
35 83
5 ¡35 83
Prisoners under 17 Years of Age,
Summarily Convicted.
I-I
iS 4^
g-a
g-a
hS
M.
89
364
14
90
557
F.
21
35
8
68
05
a
h ^
S|
BO
M.
5
21
2
29
F.
J3 ^
§2
mO
Si
F.
M.
46
46
I ta
•aS
*■2 <a «
«8
03 «n
0,-3
"®â
o o
OP4
M.
*rs
a _
„ ¿
'3'->
M.
803
1240
334
6
9
4
368
F.
436
476
302
"3
44
27641261
1239
1716
636
6
12
4
412
4025
SURREY.—HOUSE OP CORRECTION, WANDSWORTH.
A Retuen op Peisonees, Male and Female, eeceited dueino the Yeae ending the 29th Septembee, 1861.
Ages.
Previous Committals to Wandsworth.
Other Prisons.
Juveniles.
Adults.
Totals.
Juvenile.
Adults.
Under Ten
Tears.
Under Twelve
Years.
Under Fourteen
Tears.
Under Sixteen
Tears.
Under Seventeen
Tears.
■a
O
Under Twenty-
one Tears.
Twenty-one
Tears and
Upwards.
3
"o
EH
*0
V
t>
'S
p:;
Préviens
Committal.
oi
CJ
1
0
1
to
»4
cS
.Û
O
S
O
ë
9
.a
o
»
E-t
4»
h
«a
o
9
9
ä
H
S
â
O
3
S
9
U
O
s
»4
0
1
¿
i
0
■M
1
O
h
£
G
G
fl
O
G
ë
9
.Û
O
G
U
«S
G
G
G
ë
G
ë
G
1
G
(w
O
a
»4
0
1
County Jail,
Brixton, King¬
ston, or G-uilc
ford.
Males
Females...
18
82
3
122
10
263
28
180
37
665
78
540
255
1559
928
2099
1183
2764
1261
746
516
468
67
94
6
46
3
24
1
18
15
1
1550
678
280
214
104
101
52
50
49
24
64
116
66
17
149
6
Totals ,,,
18
85
132
291
217
743
795
2487
3282
4025
1262
535
100
49
25
18
16
2228
494
205
102
73
180
83
155
(Signed) Riohabd Onslow, Governor.
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, HOLLOWAY.
533
GBOUND PLAN OP HOLLOWAY PRISON.
A. Governoi's House.
B. Chaplain's ditto.
C. Outer Gate.
J). Inner Gate.
£»£, B,E. Courtyard and Excr*
disiag Grounds.
P, P, F, F, P, P. Cdrridors.
G. Main Passée.
H. Governor's and Clerks' Offices.
I. Reception Warder's Office*
K. Lobby.
L. An Anteroom*
M. Magistrates' Committee Boom.
N, N,N, N. \ Prisoners^Visiting
O, 0, O, 0. >■ Boom, with diife*
P, ^ P. P. I rent compartments.
Q. Storeroom,
8. Waiting Uoom
T. An.toteroom.
U. Deputy Governor's OlAoe.
V. Surgeon's Boom.
W. Treadwheel and Pumps,
a. a. Associated Booms.
t iv.
TME CITY SOUSE OF CORRECTION, BOLLOWAY.
(FOE ALL CLASSES OF CONVICTED CRIMINALS.)
On a cold morning in December, while the great Metropolis around us was enyeloped in
gloom, we sallied along Tottenham Court Koad on our first visit to HoUoway Prison.
There had been a slight frost during the preceding night, which had not however been
sufficient to indurate the wet streets saturated by recent rains. The stars were shining
serenely from a cloudless sky, as yet unsullied by the smoke of ten thousand chimneys. The
lamps were still lit along the far-extending street, and beamed Hke other stars in the
distance. This thoroughfare, although resounding during the day with the incèssant din
of vehicles and traffickers, was now almost silent and deserted. One solitary cab was
loitering on the stand, the cabman being seated in front of the vehicle, equipped in his drah
greatcoat and warm muffier, on the look-out for an early fare. As we strode along Tot¬
tenham Court Koad, we met several workmen, variously attired, proceeding along to their
customary toil ; some with their basket of tools slung over their shoulder, and others
carrying a small bundle in their hand. "We observed lights in several places of business as
we passed at this early hour of the day. In some upholsterers' shops, the shopmen and
534
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOK
others were busily engaged cleaning their large ware-rooms, or dusting their furniture,
and assorting a portion of it carefully in their large windows, with a view to attract the
public eye. Through the fanlight over the door of an occasional gin palace, the gas was
burning low, and we could learn the inmates were,already astir, although scarcely a light was
seen in any of the adjacent dwellings.
We passed several lofty commercial buildings, and entered the Euston Road. At the
angle of the two streets we found a young costermonger stationed by his barrow, with an
ample supply of yellow oranges in beautiful fresh condition, and green heaps of faded-looking
apples. The centre of the road was effectually barricaded by the operations carried on in
connection with the underground railway from Paddington to the City. Here a very lively
and interesting scene presented itself to our notice. The works in this locality extendëd over
a considerable space. Part of the street was in the process of excavation, and the subsoil
was drawn up in small waggons, by means of a windlass wrought with a snorting steam-
engine, which emitted a white column of steam into the dark sky. A portion of the street
had been already excavated, and the workmen were variously employed by the glare of
torches ; some wheeling barrowfuls of bricks and stones along wooden planks placed across
strong wooden beams, which spanned the chasm beneath ; others mixing the mortar to build
the subterranean arch ; some were preparing the asphalt over blazing furnaces, to overlay it,
and others were busy underground, covering the arch with loose soil or gravel, to con¬
summate the work.
As we proceeded along the Euston Road, we passed St. Paneras Church and spire on our
right—an elegant stone building of a peculiar style of architecture, beautifully chiselled, and
in some places finely carved. The strip of ground around it is tastefully laid out, the grass
being smoothly shaven, and the walks carefully laid with gravel ; several milk vans, laden
with their white cans, whirled smartly along, and some empty coal waggons, with their
heavy rumbling wheels, and jingling harness. A short distance beyond, on our left hand,
we reach the church of St. Luke's, King's Cross, a smaU, fanciful, and grotesque building,
with a strange contracted roof, resembling a Chinaman's hat. We observed a few coffee
stalls, with a dim light gleaming beside them, some in an open lane, others in a small
wooden shed at the inner side of the pavement, where a man or woman was retailing coffee
and bread to the workmen and others who proceeded along. A few paces farther, and we
reach King's Cross, as the day began to break. Near to it is the station of the Great
Northern Railway, a large building of yellowish brown brick, with two large iron-fi-amed
windows of a semi-circiilar form fronting us, overlooking six arches on the ground fioor.
The Great Northern Hotel, a lofty and extensive building, has been recently erected in
the vicinity. The wooden inclosures around King's Cross, as weU as along the Euston
Koad, and even the gables of many of the houses in the vicinity, were covered with
large flaming placards of various colours, some of them printed in letters two feet in
dimension, inviting the public to Christmas pantomimes, music saloons, casinos, and other
entertainments.
King's Cross, in general a bustling thoroughfare, was at this early hour of the morning
comparatively deserted, except by a few large railway vans, heavily loaded, which lumbered
lazily along, and by a few workmen hastening to their daily labour. We proceeded up the
slope of the Pentonville Road, on our way to Islington, passing the policeman attired in his
warm great coat, dark shining belt and cape, sauntering along with slow and measured step.
Many of the houses on our right hand, as in the Euston Read, had a grass or garden plot in
front, in some cases planted with shrubs or trees, stripped of their foliage.
On the top of the hill we met one of the warders of the Middlesex Detentional Prison, a
tall military-looking man in uniform, hastening down towards Clerkenwell to enter on hig
duties for the day. As we reached the Angel Tavern, Islington, a dense mist loomed over
the sky. There was no omnibus in the vicinity, nor a single group of people near the corner
HOUSE GE CORRECTION, HOLLOWAT.
635
of the street. We bent our steps along High Street, Islington, one of the busiest promenades
in the north of the Metropolis, and a gay shopping street, occupied by drapers, milliners,
dressmakers, and others, very similar in its character to Newington Causeway, on the
Surrey side. In some of the drapers' shops we found smart young shopmen standing by the
counter ready for business, but there was scarcely a single customer within. We passed the
triangular patch of meadow, styled Islington Green, and directed our way by the Upper
Street, to Highbury Park, where we had a sweet rural glimpse as we turned the angle
leading to HoUoway. There we took a seat in the omnibus, which whirled us along to a
beautiful cluster of suburban villas, with rural prospect and salubrious air, in the vicinity of
the City Prison.
The House of Correction at HoUoway is a noble building of the castellated Gothic style.
The wide extended front adjacent to the Camden Road is of Kentish rag-stone, with Caen
stone dressings. The sides of the chapel and the back wings are of brick, the windows of
the cells having Parkspring stone sills, with splayed brick reveals.
About sixty feet in front of the inner gate is a neat porter's-lodge, and on each side
of it, without the prison waUs, are two elegant residences for the governor and chaplain,
with large gardens attached to them.
The prison is built on a rising ground, on the west of the HoUoway Road, originally
purchased by the City Corporation to be used as a cemetery at the time of the cholera in
1832. The ground, consisting of ten acres, is surrounded by a brick waU about eighteen feet
high.
At the back of the prison He some beautiful green meadows, and fields of arable land, a
portion of which belongs to the City ; in the distance rise the green MusweU and Homsey
hüls, and the commanding slope of flighgate, together with Hampstead Heath, where the
redoubtable Dick Turpin occasionaUy roamed ; whUe away to the south extend the immense
pUes of architecture of the huge MetropoUs, with its hundred spires, by this time wreathed
in a dense cloud of smoke and mist.
% iv.—a.
The Sietory and Construction of the Prison..
In a report presented by the Prison Committee to the Court of Common CouncU, on
20th January, 1843, we have a condensed statement of the reasons respectfuUy submitted
to the Court of Aldermen by the Committee of the Court of Common Council, why a new
prison should not be erected in the City, but rather at HoUoway :—
" It is assumed that Gütspur-street Prison, as weU from its construction as from its
confined space, is totaUy inadequate for the purposes of a house of correction. It is also
assumed, that aU parties are agreed that a new house of correction has become necessary.
The question then to be decided is, whether such prison should be erected within the waUs
of the City, or in some open space at a distance from jt.
"The Committee, with a view to determine this point, have carefully examined ten
plans, and the proposed sites selected, which are marked upon the plan prepared by the
architect.
" No 1 is an enlargement of GUtspur-street Prison, the total area of which, even when
enlarged, would be only two roods and thirty-seven perches. It is submitted that this
space is insufficient for the contemplated purpose ; that plan is therefore rejected.
536
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDOH.
*' Nos. 2 and 3 being an enlargement of Newgate, the total area of which would only
bo two acres and two perches ; this also was considered insufi&cient.
" No. 4 involved the destruction of the Debtors' Prison in "Whitecross Street, which
would have given a site of four acres and nineteen perches. It was rejected because of the
destruction of the Debtors' Prison, and the necessity of providing a new prison for them, it
being foreseen that by the enactment of new laws that prison would be fully occupied, and
therefore it would require as large a space in some other situation to have erected a new
prison for them ; in addition to which, in order to make up the four acres and nineteen
porches, a large plot of ground to the north must have been purchased at a cost of at least
£133,000.
" Nos. 5 and 9 were plans for building a new prison upon ground adjoining the Debtors'
Prison ; the largest of the two plans would have given a site of only two acres, three roods,
and fifteen perches, and would have cost, exclusive of the building of the prison, £141,800 ;
these were therefore rejected.
"No. 8 is a plot of ground in Goswell Street, beyond the boimdary of the City, where a
site of four acres might have been obtained, but at a cost of £214,000.
"No. 10 embraces an area of three acres and two perches, and embraces the site of the
late Fleet Prison, with additional land proposed to be taken, running up firom Farringdon
Street to the Old Bailey. This, with the cost of the site of the Fleet Prison, deducting the
value of the materials sold, amounted to £154,800.
" In all these estimates the cost of the site only is put down ; the cost of erecting the
prison, it is assumed, would be nearly the same whether built in or out of the City."
The committee rejected aU these plans.
" The reasons which induce the committee to select a spot out of the City, are, first, that
as much space as may now, or at any future time, be required, can be obtained to erect á
prison upon any plan to accommodate four hundred prisoners, with ample ailing grounds,
spaces for workshops, etc., annexed, for a sum not exceeding £5000, thereby efiecting a
saving to the City of at least one hundred and thirty thousand pounds. Secondly, that upon
the space so to be obtained, a prison, with all modern improvements, both as regards the
discipline and the reformation of the prisoners, might be erected, which could not be so well
accomplished within a narrow space. Thirdly, because the health of the prisoners would be
better preserved ; for although persons Kving within the City find it very healthy, yet it
must be remembered that they are constantly moving about, and great numbers residing out
of the City for a part of the year ; and even the poorest take excursions occasionally, by
which means their health is renovated, whereas prisoners are confined to the spot, and it
may be for a long time ; it is therefore desirable, upon the score of humanity, that they
shoidd be placed in the healthiest locality ; and as the Government have restrained transpor¬
tation, except for very serious ofifences, it is probable that the terms of imprisonment may
be extended for three, four, or five years. On every ground, therefore, it seems desirable
that the prison or house of correction should be placed out of the City, and that it should be
built within the county of Middlesex. First, because the City of London holds the county
in fee. Secondly, because the sheriff's of London are always the sheriffs of Middlesex ; and
Newgate, although within the City, is the common jail of the county. Thirdly, because
many of the aldermen are magistrates of Middlesex, and have therefore co-ordinate jurisdiction
in that county with the justices thereof. And lastly, because the county mainly surrounds
the City, and all parts of it where a prison could be built are more accessiblô and more within
the daily walks of the City authorities than other counties.
" For these reasons, the committee examined a plot of ground belonging to the corpora¬
tion, situate at HoUoway, and came to the conclusion that it was desirable to erect
a new prison there. First, because of its easy access from all parts of the City and the
HOUSE GE COEEECTION, HOLLOW AY.
637
metropolis. Secondly, because of the great saving of expense in the purchase of a site.
Thirdly, on the ground of its salubrity, its soü, its being capable of being well-drained,
and of the ample space which may be obtained for all the purposes which may be
required.
" Other reasons entered into the consideration of these questions, which it is unnecessary
to detail. The committee had only one object, to select the best site, to get the largest
space, to save the most money, to erect the most suitable prison, to preserve the City's rights
and privileges, to uphold the character of the magistracy, and to have a prison which should
indeed be a model.
" On the 11th March, 1847," continue the prison committee in their report, " the Lord
Mayor laid before the Court of Common Council a report of the Jail Committee to the
Court of Aldermen, on having received several offers of sites for a new house of correction,
and drawing the attention of the court to the land belonging to this city at HoUoway,
which was referred to your committee to consider, with power to confer with the Court
of Aldermen thereon; and, before carrying the same into execution, to report to this
court.
" On the 23rd of the same month, the Court of Aldermen appointed the Lord Mayor
and seven Aldermen to be a special committee, to act with us in relation to prisons ; and on
the 31st, we appointed a sub-committee, consisting of ten members, including the chairman,
to confer with the committee of Aldermen upon the several matters referred respecting the
erection of a new prison, and to report to us.
" On the 14th of April, 1847, . the special committee of the Court of Aldermen and sub¬
committee appointed by us met as a joint committee, and it was resolved unanimously that
it should be recommended that the intended new prison be erected on the land belonging to
this city at HoUoway. And on the 13th May, the joint committee resolved that it was
inexpedient th'at any portion of the land at HoUoway should be permanently appropriated
to any other purpose tiU it was ascertained what quantity would be required for the prison.
That the construction of the prison should be such as to admit of its future adaptation to
any mode of discipline which might afterwards be adopted. These resolutions were subse¬
quently adopted by us, and submitted (inier alia) to your honourable court, in a report
presented and agreed to on the 1st July, 1847.
" On the 29th day of July, 1847, the prisons committee presented to the Court of Common
Council the following report, which was agreed to ; viz. :—
" ' We, of ^our special committee, appointed on the 20th day of March, 1846, to co¬
operate with the Court of Aldermen, and to view and examine the prisons belonging to this
city, and report our opinion as to the accommodation afforded to prisoners, the opportunity
for classification and separate confinement, and whether there exists any necessity for build¬
ing a new prison, or enlarging or altering the existing prisons, with a view to carry into
effect the improvements in prison discipline which modern experience has suggested on the
subject, and to report thereon, no ceutift that, in addition to our report presented to t.bi«
honourable court on the 1st day of July instant, in which we stated the several proceedings
in the conferences which had taken place between your committee and the special committee
of jails of the Court of Aldermen in relation to the proposed new house of correction, with
a rebommendation that the same should be built on the City's ground at HoUoway, we have
now to report that, at a further conference, it was mutually agreed that the construction of
the new prison should be such as to admit of its future adaptation to any mode of discipline
that might hereafter be determined upon, and that the same should be constructed for not
less than fotm himdred prisoners, and that separate sleeping cells should be constructed. We
jointly referred it to the City Architect (Mr. Banning) to prepare a plan upon this principle,
and to submit the same to us for consideration.
538
THE GREAT WORLD OF LGNDDIT.
*' ' That we have since received from him a plan accordingly, classed and arranged as
under :—
" ' For adult male prisoners :
" ' Four wings, containing 72 each, each wing consisting of three stories to accom¬
modate 24 prisoners 288
" ' For female prisoners :
' One wing containing three stories, to fwcommodate 56
" ' And for juvenile prisoners :
" • A further wing of three stories, to accommodate 56
«'Total 400
" ' The prison to occupy a site of eight acres, and the small triangular piece of ground
on the north thereof to be retained for any purposes which may hereafter be determined
upon.
" ' That both committees, having duly considered that plan, and heard the architect in
explanation thereof, unanimously approve the same ; and we recommend it to this honour¬
able court for adoption, subject to such modifications, if any, as may, upon further considera¬
tion, be deemed expedient, provided that no steps be taken until the estimate of the expense
of such new house of -correction is reported to this honourable court, and their sanction had
thereto.'
" On the 10th of February, 1848, the prison committee presented to the Court of Com¬
mon Council another report, viz. :—
" ' We, of your special committee in relation to prisons, to whom on the 29th day of
July last it was referred, in accordance with the terms of our report on that day presented,
to prepare an estimate of the expense, of carrying into execution the plans which accom¬
panied our report, and which were agreed to by this honourable court, no cektivt that we
have duly proceeded therein and referred it to the sub-committee appointed to confer and act
in conjunction with the jail committee of the Court of Aldermen, to consider of and pre¬
pare the necessary estimate as required.
" ' That the sub-committee have reported to us. That on the 4th day of December last,
Mr. Running was directed to prepare the plans on the enlarged scale required by the Act of
Parliament, in order that they might be transmitted to the Secretary of State for approval.
" ' That Mr. Rimning was also directed to prepare and submit an estimate of the expense
of erecting the building, that the same might be reported to the Courts of Aldermen and
Common Council.
" ' That the sub-committee had since received such estimate, amounting to about the
sum of £80,000.
" ' That Mr. Running having submitted the large plans to the Secretary of State,
agreeably to the instructions given to him, had since laid before the sub-committee a letter
from Mr. Phillipps, returning the same with the approval of Sir George Grey certified
thereon, together with certain suggestions contained in a memorandum drawn up by Colonel
Jebb, the Inspector-General of Prisons (as to certain details of the prison arrangements).
" ' That the sub-committee had considered and approved of the suggestions Ffos. 1, 2, 3,
and 4, in the memorandum.' "
On the 26th September, 1849, the first stone of the new prison was laid by the Right
Honourable Sir James Duke, Lord Mayor, assisted by David Williams Wire, Esq., Chairman
of the Prison Committee of the Court of Common Council, and Alderman Challis, Chairman
of the Jail Committee of the Court of Aldermen, and the building was finished in 1852.
The daily average number of prisoners for the past year . . 343
The greatest number at any one time during the year . . 389
HOUSE OF COERECTIOH, HOLLOWAT.
539
STATE OP ESPEKDITÜEB IST EELATION TO THE EEEOTION OP A NEW HOHSE OP COEEECTION FOE THE
CITY OF LONDON, AT HOLLOW AY.
£.
s.
d.
By contract for Building
. 77,890
7
2
„ formation of Sewer
975
0
0
„ sinking Artesian Well
1,300
0
0
„ Iron Tanks, Water-closets, Baths, etc.
3,245
12
1
„ Warming and Ventilation
3,541
3
0
„ Tarpaulins
84
4
7
„ Pumps and Apparatus
565
0
0
„ Gas Fittings
899
9
10
„ Stoves ....
117
16
0
„ Locks, Latches, Bolts, Bells, etc.
504
5
0
,, Clerk of the Works
1,615
11
1
„ Trees, Shrubs, Plants
64
14
0
,, Interest on Temporary Loans
61
4
0
„ Law Expenses . .
; 143
1
7
„ Books, Stationery, and Printing
19
19
0
,1 Miscellaneous Expenditure •
520
3
4
91,547
10
8
Balance . .
1,152
9
4
92,700
0
0
The Interior of Solhway Prison.
As we approached the outer gate of the prison by the enclosed entry flanked on our
right hand by the chaplain's house, and on our left by that of the governor, both uniform in
appearance and of elegant construction, as represented in the engraving, the battlements
and lofty tower of the prison rose conspicuously before us, reminding us of some noble
castle of the olden feudal times. On our knocking at the outer iron bolted gate, an elderly
modest-looking officer appeared at the grating, and admitted us within the walls of the
prison. He was attired in the prison uniform, consisting of a surtout and trousers of
dark blue cloth and cap with peak, with a dark shining leathern belt, from which was
suspended an iron chain with the keys of the prison attached.
We were ushered into the presence of the governor, who, on our presenting our order
from the visiting magistrates, introduced us to Mr. Clark, chief warder, to conduct us through
the interior of the prison. The latter had a gold-lace band round his cap, and his uniform
handsomely embroidered with lace to distinguish him from the other officers.
The Outer Gate and Courtyard.—We first inspected the lodge occupied by the gate
warder, consisting of a small room on each side of the gateway.
The one on the right hand is furnished with an oaken table, and a large oaken case
set beside the wall as we enter, containing an assortment of rifles, pistols, cutlasses, and
bayonets, tastefully arranged. Alongside is a cupboard, in the interior of which is a
series of hooks to contain the keys of the prison.
540
THE GREAT "WORLD OP LOHDOH.
Over the mantel-piece is a letter-box, where letters are deposited to he sent to the Post-
office and for delivery at the prison; opposite to it is a tinie-indicator, surmounted by a
dial-plate. On the wall are suspended a City Almanack, giving a list of all the different
Courts, and a list of the magistrates at the Central Criminal Court, GuildhaR, and the
Mansion-house.
The chief warder called our attention to a book deposited on a desk, where the visitors
to the prison are required to sign their names, and requested us to enter our name in it.
The desk contained a visiting-book for the prisoners' friends ; also a book for visitors
who have received orders from the magistrates to visit the prisoners ; another for solicitors
who visit the prison ; and a fourth records the attendance of ladies who aid female prisoners
on their liberation, by getting them into institutions or providing them with situations in
the metropolis.
The gate warder handed us several other books ; and added, " There is a book to record
the visits of the chaplain and surgeon to the prison ; also a book to note the labourers and
tradesmen employed within the establishment."
He farther showed us a volume in which the vehicles entering the prison gate are
recorded, with the numbers of the cabs, carriages, etc. ; and the non-resident officers attend¬
ance book, specifying the precise time they are occupied in duty ; and one containing the
names of the male and female prisoners, alphabetically arranged, with the date of their
discharge.
At the time of our visit a cheerful fire was burning in the grate, with a comfortable rug
on the hearth, and a neat cocoa-nut mat at the door, made by the prisoners. There are
several bells here ; one communicating with the reception ward, another with the chaplain's
house, and a third with that of the governor.
We proceeded to the small room on the opposite side of the archway, where the warder
at the gate generally sits and takes his meals, while the one we left is generaUy occupied as
his office. This small apartment in construction and dimensions is exactly similar to the
other we have already described, and is neatly furnished with an oaken table and several
oaken chairs. There is here a comfortable fireplace, and gas jet, and also a bell communicating
with the governor's house. On the wall is affixed a copy of the Rules relating to the treat¬
ment and conduct of the prisoners.
Leaving the porter's lodge we enter the pointed arch, which is thirteen feet in breadth,
and twenty-nine in length, and at the upper extremity sixteen feet high. The chief
warder called our attention to the outer folding-gate of the prison, about eleven feet square.
It is composed of solid oak four inches thick, riveted with strong bolts of iron, with a small
iron grating about eight inches square, occasionally closed with a wooden trap.
There is also a narrow wicket gate in one of the folds of the large gate for the ingress
and egress of the visitors, which is fastened, as in the case of the large gate, with a patent
lock. The top of the arch over the prison gate is fenced with strong massive iron bars.
The chief warder has a suite of apartments over the porter's lodge ; consisting of a kitchen,
pantry, parlour, two bed-rooms, with scullery, sink, and water-closet attached.
Leaving the porter's lodge we enter the courtyard, where the prison has a very imposing
appearance, with its castellated front, and the lofty wide extended range of buildings forming
the female wing on our right, and the juvenile wing on our left hand, each consisting of three
floors.
The porch of the prison with the inner gate projects a considerable way from the mm't^
building in front as seen in one of the engravings, and the pUlar on each side is surmounted
by a large winged grifiin rampant facing the doorway. One of them has a key in one of his
talons, and a large dark leg-iron in the other. And the other has one of his talons extended
as though he were aiming to seize hold of his prey, while the other clasps a set of massive
leg-irons.
HOUSE GE COERECTION, HOLLOWAï".
541
The court-yard in front of the prison is neatly gravelled and carefully drained, and
bordered with flowers and shrubs, such as wallflower, hollyhock, and evergreens of ditferent
kinds. At the back of the lodge, on each side of the arch, is a small grotto, ingeniously
erected by the gate-warder, with a miniature fortification beside one of them.
*#* Office, cells, etc. of the Reception-ward.—We were admitted by the inner warder, an
intelligent Scotchman, into the main prison. On entering by the wicket-gate, similar to the
one in the outer lodge, already described, we found ourselves in a spacious hall, beneath the
glazed roof of the porch, which sloped upward towards the lofty turrets in front of the prison.
The reception ward is situated on the basement ; and an ample stone staircase, on the right
hand of the reception ward, leads to the central hall and the corridors of the adult
prison. The staircase is enclosed by a massive chiselled stone balustrade, which extends
acroK the hall above, on the first floor, in the direction of the ofiice of the clerk and
storekeeper, and elegantly fences the extremity of the wide passage entering into the
main prison.
The hall of the reception ward on the basement is about forty-eight feet in length and
twenty-one in breadth, with cocoa-nut matting, leading to the reception warder's office on the
left hand, and to the reception cells in front.
We accompanied the reception warder into his office, about eighteen feet by fifteen : a
comfortable apartment, well lighted and ventilated, provided with several writing-desks,
like a lawyer's office, suited for four clerks, surmounted with brass fittings, on which the
books of the prison are conveniently deposited, with a gas-jet over it. On a side-table
several books were laid. " Here," said the reception warder, opening a large book, " is the
register in which we enter the descriptions of the male prisoners, and there is a similar
one for female prisoners. There is another book, termed the clothing and trinket book, in
which a record is kept of the various articles belonging to the prisoners ; and here is an
index to them."
Pointing to standard measures, which stood near to the window, " There," said the
warder, " we take the height of the various prisoners, and also their weight."
The office of the reception warder is floored with wood, and arched with brick, supported
by iron girders. The walls are painted of a light colour and tastefully pencilled to resemble
large carefully hewn blocks of stone, as in the outer walls of the reception ward.
There are two bells here; one of them communicating with the front gate, and the other
with the reception or inner gate. The windows are secured, on the exterior, with strong
iron bars.
We then proceeded along the hall of the reception ward. At the farther extremity,
before we reached the cells, we observed a narrow metal grating extending across from the
one side of the floor to the other, which contained hot-air pipes. This hot-air flue," said the
chief warder, "extends along the centre of the reception ward, and gives warmth to the
various cells. It extends to the female wing on the right hand, and to the juvenile wing on
the left."
There is a board over the door leading to the reception ward, intimating that " Silence is
to be strictly observed " by the prisoners.
The reception warder told us that the dark passage on the left led to the juvenile, and that
on the right to the female branch of the prison, passing through an archway between them
on each side ; over which was another communication from the main passage on the floor
above. At the farther end of the reception hall there is a tap to draw water for the use of
the ward, and a water-closet adjoining.
We entered the apartment containing the prisoner¿ own clothing, on the right side of the
reception ward. There we found a large quantity of prisoners' garments carefully packed in
bundles and deposited in racks around the walls, arranged according to their sentences each
542
THE GEEAT WORLD OE LdiDOÏT.
of tliem labelled with the name, register, number, and sentence of each. There is a stove
for the airing of the clothes in the centre of the room.
Many of the bundles contained ragged and soiled clothing, with a large proportion of re¬
spectable and fashionable garments. " Some bundles," said the warder, " belong to rogues and
vagabonds, pickpockets and burglars, others to sailors and soldiers. We have several re¬
turned convicts imprisoned for picking pockets, and for receiving stolen property. A good
number of the prisoners have been clerks in lawyers' offices, and travellers and warehouse¬
men in commercial houses, brought here for embezzling their masters' property ; and some
have been in good position in society, and are now under sentence for fraudulent bankruptcy.
In addition to these, we have many tradesmen and mechanics for various offences. Some of
the prisoners have been convicted for uttering base coin, others for lead-stealing, some for
swindling, and many for petty felonies."
" At present," said the reception warder, " a good deal of the prisoners' clothing re¬
quires to be fumigated. I attribute this to the fact that a great mass of people are at
present out of employment, and many are driven to the low lodging-houses of the metro¬
polis for shelter. Many of our prisoners are covered with vermin, and in a most deplorable
condition., A great number of them have very respectable clothing, which does not require
to be fumigated. We generally find the most expert thieves are respectably attired, and
cleanly in their persons."
There is a small apartment adjoining this store-room, where the prisoners' clothes are
fumigated.
We passed on through a door at the extremity of the reception hall, fronting the inner
gate of the prison, to the reception cells. This door has plate-glass inserted into the upper
panels, which gives the interior a more cheerful appearance. The passage betweep the cells
is sixty-nine feet in length, and a portion of it twenty-one feet in breadth apd about ten
feet in height ; the remainder being as narrow as ten feet.
Bath-room of this ward is on our left hand. It is about twenty feet long, nine
feet wide, and ten feet in height, at the top, and nine feet at the bottom of the arch. There
are two baths in this room, separated from each other by a wooden partition. They are
comfortable and commodious, and are supplied with hot water from a cistern in the fumace-
room, and with cold water from a tank at the roof of the prison.
Adjoining the bath-room is a small store of prison-made clothing, carefully arranged on
the shelves, consisting of dark gray jackets, vests, and trousers, with braces, stocks, and
shoes. There is also a large chest-of-drawers containing linen, stockings, flannel-shirts, and
drawers, etc. for the use of the prisoners. The walls of the bath-room are tastefully pencilled,
aimilar to the officc of the ráception wiitdcr. It is provided with a fireplace to air the gar¬
ments, and a cocoa-nut matting in the centre of the floor, for the comfort of the prisoners
when undressed.
We followed the chief warder into one of the reception cells, which was thirteen feet long
and seven feet wide, and nine feet at the bottom, and nine feet six inches at the top of the
arch. It is ventilated by a grating over the door, connected with hot-air flues, extended
throughout the building, and also by a trap in the window. The window of the cell is
three feet six inches wide, and eighteen inches high, slightly rounded at the top, as seen in
the engraving.
" The furniture of the cell," said the reception warder, " consists of a small deal table,
attached to the right-hand side of the cell," which he folded down, like the leaf of a
table ; " also a water-closet, fixed into one of the farther comers of the ceU, which has a
wooden lid, and serves as a seat to the prisoner ; a wash-hand basin and a tub for washing
the feet."
itlivve the table is a gas-jet, over which the prisoner has no control. The chief warder
HOUSE OF COllRECTION, HOLLO WAY.
543
observed, " It is lit at dusk, and extinguished at nine o'clock at night, when the prisoners
retire to rest."
A copy of the rules and regulations of the prison, and of the dietary, are suspended in
each cell, so that the prisoners may know how to conduct themselves.
On the right-hand comer, beside the door, are three small triangular shelves. The
bedding, rolled firmly up and fastened with two leathern straps, is generally laid on the upper
one ; containing a pair of blankets, a rug, a pair of sheets, a horse-hair mattress, and a pillow,
which, at night, are put into a hammock, suspended on two strong iron hooks on each side
of the cell. "On the second shelf," added the governor, who had just entered the cell, "is
a plate, together with a tin jug for gruel, a wooden salt-cellar, and a wooden spoon. On the
lower shelf are deposited a Bible, prayer-book, and hymn-book ; two combs and a brush, a
cocoa-nut fibre rabber for polishing the floor, and underneath the lower shelf is a small
drawer, containing the materials for cleaning the window of the cell.
" On the right-hand side of the door," continued the governor, " there is a small handle,
of easy access to the prisoner, by which he is able to ring at any moment when he requires
the attendance of an officer." This handle communicates with a bell outside, which is in
hearing of the officer in charge. On the officer coming to the door of the cell he opens-
this wooden trap, which is about nine inches by seven.
"Above the trap is, you observe," said the governor, " a small circular inspection opening,
covered with glass on the exterior and fine wire in the interior, by which the officer can
inspect the cell from the outside, without the knowledge of the prisoner. After six o'clock
in the evening the officers put on list shoes, so that they are able to patrol the corridors in
silence, and the prisoner is not aware when he is visited."
The walls of the reception cells, like those in the corridors above, are whitewashed.
There are six altogether, ranged on both sides of the ward. In the wide passage be¬
tween these cells we saw a number of ladders, placed along the wall on our right hand,
which are used in cleaning the windows and repairing the prison. On a stand in the centre,
is a long ladder, set on wheels, resembling a fire-escape. We were informed it is used for
cleaning the windows in the upper galleries of the prison.
There is a wooden machine in the same ward, to which boys are fastened when whipped
by order of the magistrates. The governor observed to us, "I am happy to record that no
prisoner has been flogged in this prison for prison offences for the last ten years, since its open¬
ing. Hone have been punished except those ordered by the magistrates at the police courts."
Discharge of Prisoners.—^W e accompanied the governor to the office of the reception
warder, as a party of prisoners were about to be liberated on the expiry of their sentence.
They stood ranked up in single flle in the reception hall. They were conducted separately
into the presence of the governor, chief warder, and Mr. Keene, the clerk and keeper of the
stores. The first prisoner brought in was a little Irish lad, with strongly marked Hibernian
features, who was accosted thus :—
Governor. Boy, have you any friends to receive you when you leave the prison ?
Bog. My mother lives in town, and my sisters are feather-strippers.
Gov. Were you ever in prison before ?
Bog. No.
Gov. What was it which induced you to commit this felony ?
Bog. I got into bad company, who enticed me away from my mother's house.
Gov. Where did you go after this ?
Bog. I lived in a lodging-house, in Flower and Dean Street.
Gov. How old are you, boy ?
Bog. I am eleven years old, and was never in prison before.
Gov. Had you any shoes when you came to prison ?
40
544
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON,
Boy. I had a pair of old shoes, without soles.
The governor thereupon ordered one of the officers to provide him with a pair of shoes
and stockings, on being discharged from custody.
The lad was conducted back to the reception hall, and another prisoner, a plain-looking
lad, about twelve years of age, was introduced into the presence of the governor. He was
dressed in shabby fustian trousers, a dark jacket, and light coloured neckerchief. He was
charged with intent to steal.
Oov. Have you learned any business ?
Boy. I was for a time working in a painter's shop.
Oov. Are you to keep out of bad company for the future ?
Boy. Yes. I should like to go to sea.
The governor inquired of the chief warder the particular nature of the charge brought
against him, when the latter stated it was for attempting to steal a handkerchief.
Gov. (addressing the boy). Did you steal any on former occasions ?
Boy. I took twelve before, and sold them in Petticoat Lane.
Gov. What did you get for them ?
Boy. Sometimes I have got as high as Is. &d. for some, and at other times only 2í?.
Gov. How did you spend your money ?
Boy. I paid Zd. a night for my lodging when I was able, and sometimes lived with
my mother. I spent money gambling with other boys, and was often chastised hy my
mother for sleeping out.
A young man, about nineteen years of age, of a pale thin countenance, with a blue vacant
eye, evidently of imbecile mind, was led into the reception warder's office. He stated he
had been occasionally employed to drive cattle, that his father was dead, and his mother was
married again to a soldier. He said that he was not right in his head when he came into
the prison, and had slept several nights in sheds before he was arrested, and that he frequently
had no bed to sleep in.
He was brought to the prison in a disgusting condition, covered with rags and vermin.
The governor told the warder to give him some clothes, and desired him to keep himself
clean. He advised him to go to the union to sleep when he had no money to pay for a
night's lodging. The' prisoner replied, " he would rather stay out at night than go to the
union." The poor lad stated he had no friend in the world to take an interest in him, and
thanked the governor for his kindness. He had been imprisoned for a petty felony, no
doubt caused by his utter destitution.
A smart young man, of about nineteen years, beneath the middle size, a costennonger,
who had been tried for having a squabble with the police, and who contrasted favourably
with the lad that had just retired, was led before the governor. He stated, in answer to
the interrogatories, that he was of Irish descent—his parents having belonged to the county
of Kerry—that his mother was dead, and his father was an invalid. He keeps house with
his sister, a young girl of about fourteen years of age.
"We were present on another occasion, when a number of prisoners were discharged. One
of them was a young man, of about thirty years of age, of dark, sallow complexion, with a
long sharp face, and Irish features, charged with intent to steal.
Gov. Have you any friends in London ?
The prisoner sighed, held down his head mournfully, and said nothing.
Gov. What are you to do to-day ?
The prisoner stood with tears in his eyes, and made no reply.
The governor, turning to the clerk and storekeeper, told him to give the prisoner a
shilling.
Gov. (looking to the prisoner). Are you willing to work in future for an honest
livelihood '(
HOUSE OF COEßECTION, HOLLOWAT.
545
Pris. I work here, and do not see how I should not work outside.
Another prisoner was introduced, a thin, tall young man, with a finely formed broad
brow, an open intelligent countenance, and curly hair, attired in a decent dark dress, with
a velvet neck to his coat.
Gov. (addressing the prisoner). You are a smart young man, and might enlist in the army.
Pris. I cannot be admitted into the army, as I am ruptured.
Gov. Have you learned to read ?
Pris. Yes.
Gov. You work well here, and might be industrious outside.
Pris, (smiling). I have to work here. (After a pause he added). But who will give me
work when I am out of prison ?
Gov. You'll get work if you earnestly try to find it. Will you promise that you will do
what you can to lead an honest, industrious life ?
Pris. I'll try.
Gov. Have you any money ?
Pris. Ho, sir. I do not know what to do. I have no money, and have no friends to
assist me.
Gov. I shall give you something to assist you for the present ; but remember (eyeing the
prisoner keenly), do not come back to me again.
The prisoner gave him a military salute and retired.
A middle-aged man, a bricklayer, in light working dress, was ushered in. He was a
robust man, with high narrow forehead, clear gentle eye, carroty whiskers, and intelligent
countenance, and was charged with stealing .26 lbs. of lead.
In answer to the interrogatories of the governor, he stated that he had a wife and six
children—^had never been in prison before—was not constantly in work out of doors, and
had stolen the lead, to prevent his family from starving. He had the appearance of an
honest man ; and the expression of his countenance was clear and ingenuous. The governor
gave him 2s. 6d., and warned him not to be guilty of crime in future.
Another prisoner, introduced into the office of the reception warder, was a tall, middle-
aged man, with a grey wig, long thin face, high narrow forehead, and clear callous-looking
eye—very like an old offender. He was neatly dressed in a dark tweed suit, and stood erect,
with his great-coat on his arm.
Gov. (turning his eye on him). "Were you ever here before ?
Pris. I never saw you in my life before.
After a pause, the prisoner turned round and gave an angry glance at the chief warder.
Chief Warder (addressing him). You look very hard at me.
As he left the office, the governor remarked to us, " That inan is oae of the most expert
thieves in London, and a trainer of thieves."
A dark-complexioned, decent-looking man was then brought in. He was attired in
corduroy trousers, brown vest and sük stock, and hud a blue great-coat on his arm, and
had been convicted of having deserted his wife and five children.
Gov. I am sorry to see a man like you here. Have you learned any trade ?
Pris. I am a labourer, and have no trade. I was working at a pin-manufactory before I
was brought here, and have often been out of work during this year, and my goods have
been seized for arrears of rent.
Gov. You had a moustache when you came here ; and from your general appearance, I
fear you are addicted to keeping company with other females besides your wife. I hope
you will not desert your wife any more.
Another prisoner was brought in. He was a good-looking smart young man, of about
twenty-three years of age, with blooming complexion, and fashionably attired : a pickpocket,
charged with intent to steal a watch.
546
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDON,
Gov. Young man, what are you to do when you are liberated ?
Pris. I don't know.
Gov, Have you a home ?
Pris. Yes.
Gov. What trade or calling does your father pursue ?
Pris. He is a painter.
Gov. What is your occupation ?
Pris. I have not learned any trade. I am troubled with a weak chest.
Gov. Have you no means of honest livelihood ?
Pris. I learned mat-making here four years ago ; but have no character to get employ¬
ment.
Gov. Is your father a respectable man ?
Pris. Yes. I must lead a different life than I have been doing for some time past.
Gov. How were you led into crime ?
Pris. Bad company enticed me away.
Gov. Does your father know where you are ?
Pris. Yes.
Gov. Have any of your friends visited you since you were here ?
Pris. Yes.
After being examined separately by the governor, in presence of the chief warder and the
clerk of the prison, the prisoners were conducted by the reception warder to the porter at
the outer gate (who was furnished with a list of their names by the clerk), when they were
liberated from prison.
We watched the last company discharged leave the gate of the prison. They proceeded
a short distance with the measured tread and regular order of prison discipline, when they
began to disperse—some of them going in the direction of the City, and the others bending
their steps to the public-house opposite.
*#• Mode of Receiving the Prisoners.—In answer to our inquiries, the reception warder
stated, the prisoners are always conveyed to the prison in a van, escorted by officers.
This is generally done in the afternoon, after the sittings of the police-courts. They are
forthwith admitted into the reception ward, where they are received by the governor or the
chief warder, who ascertains if the warrants and the prisoners correspond. They are then
committed to the custody of the reception warder, and placed in the reception cells, in their
own clothing. They are afterwards taken from the cells separately and examined by the
reception warder in his office.
A minute description of their person is taken, giving their name, age, height, weight,
complexion, colour of hair, the colour of their eyes, whether of stout or slender make, their
religion, state of instruction, whether married or single, whether they have any children,
and if so, how many, the parish and country where born, the place of their last residence,
trade or occupation, the magistrate who committed them, whether from the Central Criminal
Court, the Mansion House, or Guildhall, their offence, their sentence, the expiration of their
sentence, and other remarks.
In this description of the prisoner, particular notice is taken of the marks on his body,
such as if he has wounds, or scars, or inkmarks, or is pitted with smaU-pox, etc.
After having passed this examination, the prisoners are separately removed to their
respective cells. They are then taken by the reception warder into the bath and dressing-
room, where their hair is cut according to sentence. They are here stripped of their own gar¬
ments. A particular account of each separate article is taken in the clothing and property
book, kept for the purpose, where the prisoner sees it carefully entered, and signs his name
to attest its being correct.
HOUSE GE CORRECTION, HOLLOWAY".
547
This book is signed by the officer who receives the articles, and by the prisoner on bis
discbarge, when the property received is returned to bim.
These articles are carefully arranged and examined by the reception warder, and made up
into bundles, with the names of the prisoners, their numbers, and sentences attached, and are
carefully deposited on the rack in the storeroom.
When, upon examination, any of the clothing taken from the prisoners is found to be un¬
clean, it is placed in a fumigating-stove, and thoroughly cleansed from vermin and infection.
The prisoners are taken from thence into the bath-room, where they are thoroughly
cleansed in a warm bath, and then removed into the dressing-room adjoining, where they
are supplied with an entire suit of prison clothing. They are afterwards removed to the
reception cells, where they remain till the following morning, when they are taken by the
reception warder into his office, and the prison rules are read and explained to them.
They are examined by the medical officer in the office of the reception warder, who certi¬
fies as to their state of health, and notice is taken of any ailment under which they may be
labouring, which is duly entered. The medical officer decides as to their ability to perform
the labour enjoined in their sentence.
The prisoners are again placed in the reception cells, where they are carefully visited
by the governor in his daily inspection of the prisoners, after which they are removed into
the body of the prison, to undergo their sentence. They are then committed to the care of
the principal warder in charge at the central hall, when they are again examined by the
chief warder, and appointed to their respective cells in the various corridors.
" At the expiry of their sentence," continued the reception warder, " they are placed
in the reception cells, where they are stripped of the prison clothing and their own garments
are returned to them. They are weighed in the weighing-machine, and their weight duly
entered, to ascertain if they have gained or lost during their imprisonment."
They are afterwards examined by the governor in the reception office in the manner we
have recorded in the presence of the chief warder and the clerk of the prison, when their
case is carefully considered, and clothing and money given to them, as the case may require.
They are sometimes sent to a home in the metropolis, or employment is found for them, and
an outfit supplied at the expense of the City.
*#* Stores.—"We were introduced to Mr. C. A. Keene, the clerk and steward, who
wished us to inspect his stores before proceeding to the main prison.
He first conducted us to the Clothing Department, situated at the basement, on the left of
the female prison, in close proximity to the kitchen. This apartment is twenty-four feet
long and twenty-one feet broad, lighted with two windows, four feet ten by three feet six,
the panes of glass being set in iron frames, similar to those in the other cells. It is floored
with wood, and roofed with brick and iron girders, the walls being painted of a light colour,
and tastefully pencilled like the Reception Hall.
On the right hand as we enter is a number of presses or cupboards, containing male and
female prison-clothing, officers' uniforms, and bedding, systematically arranged. On the top
of these presses is a large number of shining tins for the use of the prisoners. There is also
a chest of drawers, with small goods, such as needles, thread, and ironmongery ware, and
over it is a rack covered with tins, different in size and shape, to prevent their being mixed
together in the various branches of the prison.
On a table in the centre of the room is ranged an assortment of clothing for the children
of the Emmanuel Hospital, all of which is made in Holloway Prison. Their dress consists
of corduroy trowsers and brown jackets and vests.
The clothing of the male prisoners consists of jackets, vests, and trowsers, of gray army
cloth, and stocks, braces, and caps. The caps are made of blue indigo-dyed worsted, and
the stockings of a gray worsted, knitted by the female prisoners. Shirts of red striped
548
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
calico, flannel shirts and drawers of blue striped serge, are also made by the female prisoners.
These are systematically arranged, and neatly tied up in separate bundles of a dozen each.
There is also a considerable store of shoes of the same quality, sizes from two to ten—No.
2 being very small, and No. 10 very large.
The clothing is arranged in like manner, having the number of the size wrought in. The
clothes are from two to seven sizes.
The female clothing consists of a blue gown with a red stripe ; petticoats made of linsey-
woolsey ; shifts of red striped calico, the same material as the men's shirts ; and neckerchiefs
of blue check of a large pattern ; the linen caps are similar to those worn in workhouses ;
the stockings are made of a dark blue indigo-dyed worsted, similar to the male prisoners'
caps ; the cloaks, furnished with hoods, are made of linsey-woolsey, similar to the petticoats.
The bedding is of two different kinds, for the infirmary and the ordinary cells. The
infirmary bedding consists of blue and white check coverlets or counterpanes, such as are used
in hospitals in the metropolis ; the sheets and pillow-cases are made of blue striped calico ;
the blankets are of substantial quality, white and clear in appearance, bordered with red
stripes. The ordinary bedding for the cells consists of a hammock made of strong canvas, a
rug, and a blanket, tbe latter being similar to that used in the infirmary, with sheets and
pillow-case made of a coarse brown material, termed " Forfar sheeting." The bed is made
of canvas stuffed with coir fibre.
On the left side of the room is exposed a large quantity of shoes made for the boys and
girls of the Emmanuel Hospital.
On the mantel-piece is a large number of wooden salt-cellars, turned in the prison, for the
use of the prisoners.
Leaving this storeroom, we pass through a courtyard situated on the left of the female
wing leading from the larger courtyard in front of the prison, behind the archway, to the
kitchen. Part of this courtyard adjoining the kitchen is covered with a roof of fluted
glass, for the purpose of receiving stores that require to be weighed. Here we found
a large patent weighing-machine of a lever description, made by Short and Fanner, of St.
Martin's-le-Grand. It is considered to be a very exact and valuable instrument, and weighs
from half a-pound to twenty-four cwt.
We were shown into the Hardware Store, consisting of two divisions. One of these con¬
tains a large number of iron bedsteads that were removed from the old prison at Giltspur
Street, in the City {the Compter), to be used in Hollo way Prison when necessary. There
are several old chests of drawers, and sundry iron fittings, also removed from the old
prison, which are brought into use here as occasion may require.
On entering the other division, we found a large drawing of one of the huge grifGms at
the entrance of the prison. This storeroom is of a very peculiar shape, and is situated at
the basement of tbe B wing. It is floored partly with asphalte and partly with York
slab. There are five windows in this storeroom, precisely similar to those in the cells ; the
panes are of fluted glass set in an iron framework.
On the left hand of the stair there are racks in which large quantities of brown leather
are deposited for the manufactiu:e of boots and shoes, with a considerable stock of brushes
of various kinds carefully arranged. The scrubbing-brushes and cell-brushes are made by
the prisoners.
There is a large pUe of bars of soap to be used in the laundry, and in cleaning the
prison, and large wicker baskets lined with tin, for the purpose of carrying away the dust
and rubbish from the corridors and offices of the prison. Along the walls are placed bread¬
baskets, clotbes-baskets, and other articles made by the prisoners.
Facing the doorway are two large chests of drawers with cupboards, containing locks and
general fittings of cell-doors, also the iron tools used by thç smiths and carpenters, wooden
spoons, and cocoa-nut rubbers, the latter being used for polishing the asphalte floors. These
HOUSE GE COEEECTIOH, HOLLOWAY.
549
rubbers are made by the prisoners from the cocoa-nut husk, and are found to be very
useful in cleaning the floors. They are composed of the husk pegged and glued together,
nearly in the form of a cone, of a convenient size for the hand. Samples of these have
been got by many governors of prisons, with the view of adopting them in their own
establishments.
In the centre of this storeroom is a table with a pair of scales for weighing blacklead,
starch, and other small goods, and at the farther end are arranged quantities of soda, whiting,
and lampblack. We observed a considerable number of water closets, such as those used in
the nrison cells, and pieces of stone-pipe used in the draining of the prison. There are also
large cans of oils used for various purposes, such as for the machinery in the engine-room,
the tread wheel, and the pumps, and for painting the walls of the prison, together with a large
number of bundles of flrewood.
Mr. Keene particularly called our attention to a pile of white bricks used for cleaning
hearthstones, which are considered to be very economical. Various parties have taken
specimens of them for the use of public buildings.
We then accompanied him to the Provision Store, situated at the farther end of the
kitchen, on the right hand. It is thirty-three feet long and fifteen feet broad, being
the basement of four cells. This apartment contains six large bins of oatmeal, barley, and
cocoa. At the end of the storeroom is a rack for the reception of bread when received
from the contractor, previously to its being issued to the cook. On the right hand side
are four dressers built in a recess, and on one of them are deposited several large
blocks of salt.
Under the centre arch is a mill for grinding cocoa for the use of the prison. The cocoa,
made from the nuts is considered much superior to that generally purchased in the shops.
There is here a weighing-machine, used for distributing the provisions daily to the cook,
and a puncheon of molasses, for sweetening the cocoa and gruel served out to the prisoners.
This apartment has a wooden tank, lined with lead, for supplying water to the kitchen.
It is well lighted and ventilated, and paved with York slab.
In close proximity there are cellars for the reception of potatoes, for the use of the prison.
We afterwards went with Mr. Keene to the cook's store, a small room adjoining the
kitchen, about twenty-six feet long and fourteen wide, extending over the space of three
cells, with windows similar.
It is floored with asphalte, and roofed with brick.
We observed two large trays of bread on one of the dressers—^being part of the day's
allowance, received from Mr. Keene on the previous evening. On another dresser there was
a number of knives, used by the prisoners. In the centre of the storeroom was a large block
of ash, where the butcher-meat is chopped by the cook. There is here an iron-bar, to
which hooks are attached, on which the meat is suspended.
Newly-a/rrwed Prisoners.—Leaving the storerooms, we returned to the Reception
Ward, to be present when the governor inspected the prisoners who were brought in the
prison-van last evening.
We accompanied him over the different cells. In one of them we saw a clever little
boy, of fourteen years of age, with engaging countenance, and soft Irish tongue. Though
young in years he was an old offender, and an adroit pickpocket. On the present occasion he
was brought to Holloway Prison on a charge of felony, and was sentenced to fotirteen days'
imprisonment, and four years in a reformatory. He had previously been three years in. a
reformatory on the Surrey side, and had the reputation of being a very bad boy.
In answer to the interrogatories of the governor, he stated that his parents came from
Manchester, and his father was a bricklayer, and addicted to intoxicating drink ; that he
himself lived by thieving, and chiefly frequented London Bridge and Whitechapel. He
550
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
confessed he had been seven times imprisoned—three times in Wandsworth, twice at
Maidstone, once in Westminster Bridewell, and once in HoUoway.
He was very restless in his manner while examined by the governor, and often arched
his eyebrows and protruded his tongue in an artful manner, and appeared to be proud of
what he had done, rather than ashamed of it.
He farther added, that he lodged in Kent Street, at the east end of the metropolis,
along with a number of other boys, young felons, like himself, where a great many girls
also lodged. He paid Zd. a night for his bed, and as soon as he got his breakfast he went
regularly out to thieve, with other two boys. He dipped the pockets, and gave the articles
stolen to his companions. He sometimes also stole money from shop-tills.
In another cell we saw a young man, about nineteen years of age, the son of an Irishman,
an old Indian soldier, who was charged with stealing a coat. He was a smart little
lad, with a keen eye and firm lip. He was carefully examined by the governor ; the details
being of a sorrowful character. He was a painful instance, among many which are ever and
anon occurring, where the children of respectable parents are led into crime by bad company
through the insidious temptations which abound in our great metropolis.
The next prisoner was a young man, of seventeen years of age, with a very low forehead
and thin, pale, eamest-lookiii^ countenance. WhUe being examined he stood with his hands
behind his back. He had been imprisoned for a petty felony at a gentleman's house.
He told the governor he had neither father or mother—that his mother died two years
and a half ago, after which he resided in lodging-houses, and got his livelihood by thieving.
He said he was willing to work, if he could get honest employment. He did not like to be
a thief, and would gladly abandon it, if he could. He had no one to care for him, and was
entirely destitute.
Gov. Would you like to go to sea ?
Pris, I would gladly go, if I could get an opportunity.
Gov, If you behave well I shall take you by the hand ; but remember, boy, and do not
deceive me.
Pris. I promise to do so.
The reception warder observed, he was to be six weeks here, so that he would have time
to observe his conduct.
On going into another cell, the governor, after looking intently on another Irish lad,
about seventeen years of age, with small head and large eyes, turned to us and said, " Here
is a man I have done as much for as though he were my own son."
Then, addressing the prisoner, he added, "You told me, when last in custody, you were
to go over to Ireland to your uncle, a shoemaker there ; having partly learned shoemaking in
prison, under my care. I paid your passage and sent you over, and you promised to learn a
trade and become a decent man." Turning to us and the reception warder, the governor
added, " To my astonishment, he has come here again, to be imprisoned for two months, for
going over premises at the wharf, about one o'clock at midnight."
Pris. I was seven weeks with my uncle.
Gov. Why did you not stay ?
Pris. Because he kept jawing me.
Gov. You came back to get into company with your old companions.
Recsi'lion Warder. This is a very bad case.
Go' ÏOU know, boy, you have a very bad temper. I tried to help you, and you have
come back to me again.
On going into the next cell, where there was a quiet, decent-looking man, the governor
observed, " Here is a very unfortunate man, who is repeatedly getting drunk, and is thereby
brought into trouble. He never was charged with stealing in his life, but squabbles on the
streets."
COUET, NEWGATE.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, HOLLOWAY.
551
Pris. I am here for other people's faults this time.
Gov. You know the magistrates of the City would not send you here for other people's
faults.
Pris. The others quarrelled, and drove me right through a pane of glass.
Gov. How often have you been in prison before ?
Pris. Thirty-two times.
Peception Warder (addressing the governor). Thirty-three times, sir.
Gov. Your chief misfortune is drink. This sends you frequently to prison.
The inmate of the adjoining cell was a young man, beneath the middle size, with a well-
formed countenance. On the governor entering the prisoner appeared lazy and indifferent,
for which he was rebuked.
Gov. This man is sentenced to three months' imprisonment, for attempting to pick
pockets, in company of a young woman.
Gov. How long have you been out of prison ?
Pris. Eighteen months. I have tried to get honest employment, and could not succeed.
Gov. Be candid with me, and do not deceive me. You know you formerly pretended
you were subject to fits. Why did you say so?
Pris. To get quit of the hard labour.
Gov. This is very wrong. It is not only the value of the labour—you insult your Maker
by pretending you are afflicted with diseases you don't have.
The other prisoner in the male reception-cells was a smart youth, of upwards of twenty
years of age, with a heavy under-face, red hair, and wrinkled brow, having the appearance
of a fast young man.
On entering the ceU, the governor remarked, " Amore intelligent lad I never had in prison."
Pris. I had good prospects before me.
Gov. Are these all gone now ?
Pris. Yes.
Gov. Through drink ?
Pris. Yes.
Gov. For yourself, or for other people.
Pris. Other people too. I had a good situation in one of the boats of the Navigation
Company, and have cooked in the Prince of Wales steamer. I was a time-keeper at the
Exhibition of 1851, and have received a good education.
Main Passage.—Leaving the reception ward, we proceeded with the chief warder
up the staircase, which is elegantly matted, and leads to the main passage, communicating
with the central haU, seen through the glass-panelled doors, directly in front of us. The
hall, at this extremity, is about twenty feet wide.
On our right hand is the governor's office, and alongside is a handsome cheerful apart¬
ment, for the convenience of the board of magistrates, who inspect the prison. The latter is
tastefully furnished, with a Turkey carpet and a long mahogany table, with a writing-desk
at one end, and an ample supply of mahogany chairs. On the left is the clerk's office, with
an anteroom also attached. On each side is a staircase, leading to a suite of upper rooms in
the two floors above.
There are two doors, with panes of glass in the upper panels, between the governor's
office and the central haU, which are generally kept locked. The one is situated about
thirty-five feet in the interior, and the other at the farther end, opening into the various
corridors. On the outside of the first door referred to, the walls are tastefully pencüled, the
passage is paved with York slab, and the roof is arched, with seven immense iron girders. At
the extremity of the outer hall, bounded by the latter door, is a door leading, on the right hand,
to a small room, with several stalls, erected alongside of each other, for relatives and friends
552
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
ciommunicating with the prisoners. They are roofed with wire, to prevent anything being
thrown over, or conveyed to the latter, who are stationed in similar stalls on the other side.
The wire-screen also extends on the side of the visiting-boxes facing the prisoners. A copy
of the prison rules, relating to the conduct and treatment of the prisoners, certified by the
Secretary of State, on the 6th of June, 1860, is hung up on the walls.
On the left of the outer hall is the record office and the solicitor's room, and also a room
for persons visiting the prisoners, exactly similar to the one already described.
The outer hall is furnished with a hell communicating with the offices of the clerk, chief
warder, chaplain, and other surrounding apartments.
We passed onwards through one of the folding-doors into the inner passage. On the
right hand, as we enter, are two doors, communicating with the prisoners' visiting-room,
one of them leading into a narrow passage, between the stalls, of about five feet wide, where
an officer is stationed during the interview between the prisoners and their friends, and the
other into the stalls, where the prisoners are admitted, which are covered with a wire-screen,
similar to the other stalls alluded to. On the same side of the inner passage is the office of
the deputy-governor, with a waiting-room attached to it.
On the opposite side of the passage are two similar doors, leading into the other apart¬
ment, where the prisoners meet with those relatives and friends who visit them ; another
door leads to the surgeon's rooin, with an anteroom attached. The inner hall is floored
with asphalte, shining black as ebony.
We accompanied tbe chief warder into his office, and was shown the general receipt
book of male prisoners incarcerated in the prison ; the general report book, and the prisoners'
misconduct book ; the latter of which, by the way, had unusually few entries inserted, there
not having been lodged a single complaint against any prisoner for four days previously.
We also saw the thermometer journal; iu which the temperature of sixteen portions of the
prison is recorded three times a day.
Having inquired of the chief warder as to tbe manner in which the prisoners are disposed
over the various corridors, and in reference to the work allotted them, he gave us the follow¬
ing information :—
"After the prisoners are bathed in the reception ward, they are inspected by the surgeon
on the following morning, who certifies as to their fitness for labour, independent of what
their sentence may be. I then receive them from the reception warder. I find if the
register number put on their arm corresponds with the number in the receipt-book for male
prisoners, together with their name, age, occupation, previous conviction (if any), name of
the committing magistrate, and their excuse from labour (if any), with the date of their
discharge. I insert the whole of this on a card, which is given to the prisoner, and is
hung up in his cell, together with a copy of the prison rules and dietary."
The prisoners are allotted to their respective wards according to their criminal character,
sentence, and occupation.
The following is a list of the cells in the various corridors ;—
Corridors. Floors in each. No. of cells. No. of cells in each corridor.
A 1 20
2 19
3 21
4 11
B .... 1 21
2 20
3
4
22 (
14)
71
77
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, HOLLOWAT.
553
Corridors. Floors in each. No. of cells. No. of cells in each, corridor.
.... ...... 21 \
2 20
3 22 j
Eefractory cells* 4 /
H ...• 1 ...... 24 \
^ 25 ( gQ
3 25 I
Eefractory cells 6 /
Juvenile wing El 17^
2 20 I
3 24 > 70
Eefractory cells 6 I
Eeception cells 3 ^
Female wing Fl lO"
2 20
3 24 > 65
Eefractory cells 2
Eeception cells 3,
Eeception ward for male adults at entry hall of prison. 8
Total 438
We were furnished with the following classification of prisoners shewing the manner in
which they are distributed over the Prison :—
Corridor A 1 \
2 I Felons not known.
3 )
4 Summary felons.
B
2 I Mixed long fines and tradesmen.
Summary felons.
D
Convicted misdemeanours.
Do and summary misdemeanours.
.Known, convicted, and summary misdemeanours.
All known felons, frequently in prison.
Jurenile wing E 1 Cgnvicted felons and long fine—known.
2 Summary felons—^known.
3 Unknown felons, and summary convictions.
Female wing F 1 Felons known.
2 Do. unknown.
3 Unknown felons and misdemeanours.
Central Sail.—"We went forward with the chief warder to the central haU, a semi¬
circular space about forty feet in length, with four handsome corridors radiating around
it, as seen in the engraving of the ground-plan of the prison. The floor of the central
yiflU and of the extensive corridors consists of asphalte, finely polished daily with hlacklead
• In conaequence o' the good behaviour of the prisoners the present governor has converted these four
rafroctorv cells into a workshop.
554
THE GREAT WORLD OF LOHDOH.
and brush ; the walls are of a light colour, resembling the entry hall, and similarly pencilled
in a tasteful manner. The central hall rises in the form of a lofty dome, surmounted by a
glass roof, in the form of a sexagon, set in a massive iron ¿ame, several tons in weight, with a
large grating for ventilation.
Here we found two principal warders in attendance, in their uniforms, with keys suspended
from their dark shining belts, and three gold laced stripes on their right arm. On the right,
as we enter the central hall, is a neat writing-office set in a glass framework, where one of
the principal warders is frequently on duty, and supervises the various corridors.
There are two skylights in the flooring of the central hall, 4 ft. 6 in. wide, by 6 feet
long, consisting of very thick glass, supported on iron bars, giving light to the kitchen
beneath. There is also a trap with a lifting machine on either side of the hall, between
corridors A and B, and corridors C and D, communicating with the kitchen, by which trays
of provisions are hoisted up on cradles to the different cells, along conducting-rods of bright
steel, about 40 feet in height ; the details of which process is fully given in the description of
Pentonville Prison.
In the central hall is a corkscrew metal staircase, leading from the basement to the
different galleries, which is surmounted with a dial ; and also a large beU which summons
the prisoners to their labour, and calls them to chapel
While we lingered in the central hall with the chief warder, we saw several of the
prisoners, in their dark gray prison dress, engaged in cleaning the various corridors around
us. They had a more cheerful appearance than the masked men at Wandsworth andPenton-
vüle, and proceeded about their work with great alacrity ; some were sweeping the dark
floors with long brooms, and others were kneeling down and scrubbing them with energy,
until the asphalte shone with a bright polish. Several of the officers in their dark blue
uniforms were stationed in the different galleries, attending to their wards. We noticed a
detachment of prisoners walk in single file through the central hall, with their hands behind
their back, giving a military salute to the chief warder as they passed on from the exercising
ground and treadmill to their different cells.
We also saw the schoolmaster moving from cell to cell in one of the galleries, attended by
a prisoner, who carried a basket of library books, to be deposited for the use of the
prisoners.
We inspected several of the corridors, which are about 133 feet in length from the
central hall, and are lighted from the roof by two large skylights, which have openings at
the sides for ventilation. A and B wings in addition to those are lighted by large windows at
the extremities, provided with fluted glass. At dusk, each of the corridors is lighted with gas.
There is a staircase at the extremity of corridors B and C, leading to the galleries above ;
with one nearer to the centre in A and D wings. There is also a staircase leading to the
basement of each.
Having taken a general survey of the main prison, we now proceeded to a more careful
inspection of the arrangements of the interior.
In passing from the central hall on the right of corridor A is a small storeroom, about
the size of two cells, for the convenience of the various corridors of the adult male pris n.
Wè noticed on a rack a large pile of prisoners' clothing of various sizes, consisting of trousers,
jackets, vests, caps, handkerchiefs, flannel shirts, and drawers. Above this was placed an
assortment of brooms and brushes for cleansing the prison, while beneath, there was ä row
of drawers, in which were deposited sundry other articles used in the cells. A prisoner—
an active young man—who has been warehouseman to a firm in the city, was in attendance
at the time we entered.
*#* Cells.—^We entered one of the adjoining cells, which is 7 feet wide, and 13 feet long
at the top, and 9 feet at the bottom of the arch. It is fioored with asphalte, as all the other
HOUSE OF COEEECTIOH, HOLLOW AY.
555
cells arc, and kept carefully polished and whitewashed. The furniture, consists of a small
folding table, attached to one of the sides of the cell, a copper hasin, and water-closet," and a
water tap covered, resembling those in Wandsworth Prison, with pipes inside, communicating
with the water-closet and wash-basin, a soap-box, with soap, a naü brush, and small piece
of flannel for cleansing.
In a corner beside the door is a small triangular cupboard with three shelves, on the top
of which is the hammock rolled up, and hound firmly together by two strong leather straps.
The furniture here is exactly the same as in the cells in the reception ward, except that
here there are several library hooks for the use of the prisoners. In the cell we entered,
we saw two or three volumes—one of them titled " Summer in the Antarctic Eegions," and
another containing the "Narrative of the Loss of the 'Amazon,'" and "Life in New Zealand."
There is a hot-air flue over the door. At the opposite side of the cell, nearly on a level
with the asphalte flooring, there is an extraction flue ; while under the window is a ventilator,
admitting pure air at the pleasure of the prisoner. The deputy-governor opened the ven¬
tilator, when a current of fresh air was admitted into the cell.
We were introduced to the engineer of the prison, who gave us a fuEer explanation of
this ventilating apparatus. He stated, in front of the cell doors, under the asphalte flooring,
is a flue enclosing four pipes on each side. It is connected with the main flue, and conveys
the warm air through the iron grating over the cell door. The iron grating at the hack of
the cell, near to the floor, conveys the air into an extraction flue, leading to the roof of the
building, discharging it into a ventilating shaft, situated at the angle of the C and D wing
and a portion of the kitchen.
" You observe," said the engineer, " that on the right side of the door there is a small, dark
iron handle. When turned round by the prisoner in his cell, it communicates with a gong
in the centre of the corridor, which gives notice to the warder in charge, and at the same
time a small metal plate is thrown out at the exterior of the cell, by which he is able to
leam which of the prisoners in his ward has struck the gong."
The window of the cell is 3 ft. 6 in. by 18 in., similar to those in the reception ward.
On the wall is suspended a card, containing the prisoner's registered number, his age, etc.,
as already referred to ; and alongside is a copy of the prison regulations as to the disposal of
his time, from 5"45 a.m., to 9 p.m., specifying how he is to be occupied in his cell, as well as
out of it, in chapel, at school, on the exercise ground, etc.
Corridor A is divided into four wards. Nos. 1, 2, 3, consist of felons guilty of their
first offence, and No. 4 of parties tried summarily.
Mat-rooms.—As many of the prisoners in corridor A were absent from their cells
at their other exercises and employments, we meantime visited the basement, where we
saw a number of mats, rugs, and matting, of various kinds, and of different colours and designs,
carefully packed up ready for removal. At the further end of the basement is a deal table,
where a prisoner was stationed binding the mats ; and in the right-hand corner was a pile
of worsted of different colours, pink, yellow, black, roan, green, puce, and brovra, ready to
be woven into fancy rugs and mats.
We were introduced by the chief warder to Mr. Davies, an active and most intelligent
man, who holds the ofihce of mat and rug instructor. He is not an ofiicer of the prison, but
is employed by contractors over this large department of prison labour. We entered a mat-
room, where twenty-two prisoners were engaged at their looms, weaving different descriptions
of mats and rugs. This apartment is spacious and well lighted, with a lofty roof, about
27 feet high. It is ventilated by flues on each side, connected with the main shaft. There
is a staircase on the left, leading to a mat-room above of a similar size, about the dimensions
of twelve ordinary cells. The prisoners were of various ages, varying from twenty to
forty-five. We observed an elderly man of sixty years of age, of, superior appearance,
556
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDON".
employed in winding coloured worsted for the use of the looms, while a younger man beside
him was working at a spindle ; several of them had their jackets off as they plied the
shuttle on the loom. 'Four men were engaged in the centre of the room, putting a chain on
a beam ; one man was guiding the chain, other two were stationed by it, one of them with
his arms crossed, resting on an iron bar, by the assistance of which this operation is done ;
and another lad, of about nineteen years of age, was busy holding up the chain to guide it
properly.
The trade instructor called our attention to another description of mat-making from cocoa-
nut fibre, of a heavier description, used in halls, at front doors, and in private houses and
public offices.
Pointing to one of the looms beside us, he explained—It is formed of a square wooden
frame with internal fittings, consisting of iron buttons, and a reed and harness, through
which is drawn each thread of the chain used in the construction of the mats. The rug
chain forms the back of the mat or rug. The face of the mat consists of coloured worsted,
and the best description of cocoa-nut fibre.
The prisoners had generally a quiet, industrious demeanour as they were engaged at their
toil, under the supervision of one of the warders of the prison.
The floor was littered with mats newly cut from the looms, with bundles of coir, termed
" dolls," and with coloured fibre, the latter being used in introducing the initials of the
names of parties by whom the mats were ordered.
On our leaving this mat-room, the deputy-governor conducted us into another associated
room up-stairs, containing looms similar to the one described. There were tables here,
where several prisoners were employed finishing the mats, by sewing borders upon them
made of plaited sennit, and a large shearing machine, used in cutting the face of the mats
and rugs. This room is well lighted and ventilated, and presented a very lively appearance
of industry.
Mr. Davies informed us, that the mats and rugs, of various kinds, made in HoUoway
Prison, are contracted for by his employers. " I believe," he added, " that they have done
so for the past seven years ; and this work is executed under my supervision. The discipline
is maintained by the presence of a warder in each mat-room. The cheapest description of
mats we make here are of a common description, used for ordinary household purposes, as
well as for carriages, chaises, dog-carts, etc. They are made with red, green, and blue
borders.
" The next quality consists of a superior description of mats, with fancy borders. These
are more coloured, and fetch a better price in the market. They are much superior in
quality to the others just alluded to, and are chiefly used among the higher circles—the
price being commensurate with their quality. This comprises the two kinds of rug-mats.
Some door-mats are made with a fibre face, without the aid of colouring. These are used
for the interior of houses, and are very durable and remarkably fine in appearance, when
well finished."
"With reference to the heavier description of cocoa-nut fibre bass-mat, Mr. Davies ob¬
served, " These are made from the fibre, spun into strands of a moderate size. They are
used for doors of public offices, and occasionally in private houses, and are in almost universal
demand. The material is so tenacious, that water has comparatively no power to rot or
injure it, consequently they are of great durability. In fact," said Mr. Davies, " we have
some in the prison that have been in daily use for several years, and are apparently as
substantial as ever. If I may be allowed to suggest, they would be very useful for dog-
kennels, belonging to parties in the sporting world. No ordure of the dogs would rot them.
They have a brushlike face, favourable to cleanliness. They could be easily made to fit the
kennels, and I believe, if they were changed daily, they would be the means of .preventing
much distemper among valuable dogs."
HOUSE OF COREECTION, HOLLOWAY.
55T
Mr. Davies showed us some mats made for the South Western Railway Company, with
the initials of the company inscribed in the body of the mats. They were evidently oí
superior workmanship, and reflect credit on the firm under whose superintendence they
have been manufactured in the prison.
There is another description of mat made in the prison, which has a fancy border, with
various devices. They are extremely strong, as well as elegant in appearance.
We were next shown a large stock of hearth-rugs, many of them very beautiful
in design, after choice patterns, and the various colours being carefuUy blended in
imison, produced a most harmonious effect. " These rugs," said Mr. Davies, " are made
with the fingers, in contradistinction to many of the so-called velvet-pile rugs, that are made
by the warp passing through what we technically caU the ' harness,' and thus forming the
body of the rug, making them very light and thin. The latter are not by any means to be
compared with the substantial rugs made by the fingers. The velvet-pile rugs have a
beautiful appearance, but are devoid of warmth, and are not lasting.
"Here we also manufacture cocoa-nut matting, which is in universal demand, and is.
used in churches, public offices, and dwelling-houses, being often substituted for oilcloth. It
is not made with a fibre face, like the mats, but is wrought in the looms, similar to the
texture of canvas. It has great durability, and is of a lighter description, aad capable of
being applied to more general use.
" The prisoners commence their operations in the mat-room at the ordinary description of
mat-making, and are generally about a month in becoming proficient in making common
mats. Some have a quicker aptitude than others. There is a young man in the mat-room,
in Corridor B," continued Mr. Davies, " who has only been occupied at this labour about
fourteen days, and has made proficiency fi-om the lowest to the highest description of
mats in this short time, being a man of uneommon ability. I never had such an
mstance before."
While we were engaged with Mr. Davies, in his ofdce, obtaining information, a
prisoner, a modest-looking, pale-faced young man, of about twenty-five years of age, called
in, asking directions regarding the manufacture of his mat. Mr. Davies remarked to us and
the chief warder, " This is a particularly clever young man. He makes first-class work, and
a large quantity of it—considerably more than most of the others. I believe he has been a
carman outside. He does not seem to work hard ; yet he accomplishes a great amount of
labour. Several of his companions waste their strength, and would appear, to a superficial
eye, to be doing more work than he.
" Some of the men become proficient in a short time ; others are more obtuse, and are
never proficient at it.
" The prisoners work seven hours a-day, beginning their labour at seven in the morning,
and finishing at a quarter to seven o'clock in the evening. They are occupied several hours
,in the interval at their meals, at chapel and school, and in the exercising ground.
Many of the prisoners learn mat-making in the prison, and are able to earn a livelihood
on their being discharged, if they were disposed to work, and could find employment.
Some of them are carpenters, smiths, and belong to other trades, who, on their liberation,
pursue their ordinary avocations ; others are habitual felons, who, on their being released
fi-om prison, generally return to their old criminal courses.
Meantime a young man, with a duU stolid look, came into the office of the trade-instructor
and wanted one of the implements used in mat-making to be exchanged. Mr. Davies
remarked, " This is a specimen of the troublesome class I have to deal with. They do little
work, and give me an infinite deal of trouble. On the other hand, I am happy to say I have
not a few who do their duty in apparently a conscientious manner.
" The persons employed in dressing the mats," he continued, " are taken from the looms
in rotation, and work.the machine which is employed in shearing them. Four prisoners are
41
558
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON".
employed .•;/ this machine. The elderly men are generally employed in the lighter occu¬
pation of sewing the mats.
" Mats and rugs, etc., are generally made in looms in this prison. We have also frames
for manufacturing them. The latter are not required at present, but were lately in use.
" I have the supervision of five associated rooms in corridors A and B, containing sixty-ono
weavers ; fourteen persons engaged in sewing the mats, and three winding and preparing the
material for the use of the workmen."
The chief warder introduced us to the warder in charge, a tall, athletic man in officers'
uniform. The latter stated that in each mat-room every loom is numbered. Each prisoner's
cell number and register number are marked against the loom they work in ; and the mats
as they are brought in from day to day, are regularly entered. A weekly return is made
showing the amount of the prisoner's work, as well as of his earnings.
The prisoners are not allowed to speak to each other, but to the trade instructor and
warder in charge.
Leaving the upper mat-room we found ourselves in the first gallery of Corridor A. The
chief warder called our attention to several gongs in the centre of the galleries which are
connected with the prisoners' cells as already mentioned ; and to a slate suspended beside
each ward on which are entered the prisoners' diet and labour.
Before leaving Corridor A, we went into several of the cells, where prisoners are confined
for their first offence. We found an old man seated in a corner of his cell, with a quantity
of junk lying by his side. He had a disabled hand, and was not able to separate the strands
of the rope which looked as hard as a carved bar of oak. The chief warder kindly showed
him the mode of untwisting the rope which was to be teased into oakum. The old man
told us a very pitiable tale. He had been engaged as a messenger to a gentleman at
Gravesend to collect the pilot dues from the shipping masters there, and had, unfortunately,
on one occasion, wben the worse of intoxicating liquor, been arrested with an ox-tail unlaw¬
fully in his possession. He was sentenced to fourteen days' imprisonment with hard labour,
but was exempted, the surgeon having certified his unfitness for it ; which was signified by
the red cross on one of the arms of his jacket.
The chief warder conducted us into another cell, where we found a robust, dark-
complexioned man of about forty years of age. He informed us he had been a porter to a
■wine merchant in the city, and had taken several sample bottles of brandy to the amount of
£5, and was sentenced to six calendar months' imprisonment. He told us he had a wife and
family, and that this was also his first offence.
In another cell we found a smart, fair-complexioned young man, who had at one time been
in business as a draper, and had spent large sums in fast life in London. He had wasted his
means among thoughtless and dissipated young men and girls, and was now in prison for
stealing a counterpane and sheet, of the value of a few shillings, having been reduced to
desperate shifts from poverty. He had been sentenced to six calendar months' imprisonment.
In an adjoining cell we saw a good-looking young man, of about nineteen years of age,
picking oakum. He had been a clerk in a lawyer's office in the City, and had forged an
order for two law books from a library, to be disposed of for a small sum of money to spend
in pleasure. He was in the habit of frequenting theatres and dancing saloons. He now
undergoes a sentence of twelve months' imprisonment with hard labour. He observed to the
chief warder it was his first offence.
After inspecting the cells and associated rooms of Corridor A, we went with the chief
warder to Corridor B. On looking over the gallery into the basement of this wing we saw
four prisoners engaged winding in the -vicinity of the other mat-room.
At the extremity of Corridor B are two large, airy rooms, about 24 feet square, and upwards
of 20 feet high. One of them is occupied as a school-room for the adult males, and the other
as an associated room for tailors and shoemakers.
HOUSE GE COERECTION, HOLLOW AY.
559
%* Schools of the Male Frison.—We entered the adult school-room, which is an airy,
well-lighted apartment, situated on the second gallery. There is a table in the room, beside
which the teacher is seated, and several forms are ranged in front and on each side ; the seats
being raised toward the back.
There is also a black board beside the table in front of the seats. On the left hand, near
the fireplace, is a book-case containing library books, maps, music books, etc., and on the
walls are suspended maps of the British Empire, Palestine, and the World, with plates of
the Theory of the Seasons and the Holy Tabernacle.
The class was not assembled at the time of our visit.
We accompanied the reception warder to the juvenile school-room, at the juvenile wing
of the prison, and found Mr. Barre, the teacher, busy with a class of boys, who were reading
their primers. The lessons consisted of monosyllables, such as " They walk by faith and not
by sight " Their steps are known of the Lord, and he has joy in their way." The teacher
was seated in his imiform by a table, with a class of half a dozen boys ranged on a form
before him. Some were writing on their slates, while others were reading. Sometimes they
read together, and at other times one boy read by himself.
On the mantel-piece was a black board, and a map of England and Wales was suspended
on the wall. The boys apparently belonged to the lowest order of society. Some of them
appeared to be very intelligent, and were very attentive. A very interesting lad sat beside
us, with light blue eyes, fair complexion, and well-formed eountenance. Alongside was a
robust, heavy-browed Irish boy, with a large head, and his face marked by smallpox.
He had a small gray eye, and spoke in soft, Irish accents.
A pale-faced lad in the centre of the class appeared to be a better scholar than some of
the others, and had a very engaging, thoughtful appearance.
After hearing them read for some time, the teacher exercised them in simple questions of
mental arithmetic, which aroused their attention considerably. A fair-haired Irish boy
showed little interest in his reading, but his face beamed with pleasure, and his eye sparkled
while his teacher proposed to the class repeated questions such as the following :—" Suppose
a man to be 64 years old, and to have a son 25 years of age, how much older is the father
than the son ?" And, again, " What is the value of 24 pence ?"
The teacher concluded with a few judicious, moral remarks. In showing the value of
arithmetic, he impressed upon them the importance of thinking for themselves, and observed
" that the boy who cleans knives would do this better if he thought for himself." On the
other hand, he pointed out the danger of their not being considerate ; that they were more
easily seduced into had company, and led into crime. He showed them the necessity of
care in little things ; that it illustrates a man's character, and leads to fortune in after life.
He exhorted them not to he a burden to others, but to labour cheerfully for themselves, and
closed with an interesting and impressive illustration : A little boy saw a gentleman drop
his handkerchief, and smartly picked it up and ran with it to him. The gentleman offered
him a piece of money, but the boy declined to accept it. Struck with the noble spirit of the
poor boyj he went to see his parents who lived in the next street, and also called on his
schoolmaster, who highly recommended him. He got the boy a humble situation in his
commercial establishment, where by industry and perseverance he afterwards became a
partner of the firm.
The teacher told his pupils there was work in London for the steady and industrious.
Mr, Barre informed us :—"I teach four classes daily, which consist of boys and adults.
There are two classes of adults in the morning, and two consisting of juveniles in the
afternoon. The first class of adults are those who are learning their letters and monosyllables.
They are also exercised in mental arithmetic, and are taught to write letters on their slates ;
none of them write in copy-books. There are, on an average, 20 persons attending this
class ; their age averaging from Ifi to 30, some of them as old as 60. A considerable number
560
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
do not know the letters, and in the majority of cases these belong to the ordinary felon class.
As a rule, the pupils are very obtuse in learning, particularly when they exceed the
age of 25.
" I find," said Mr. Barre, " the best means of stimulating them to think is by simple
questions in mental arithmetic and other questions of a general character. By this means,
numbers get very interested in the class. When I succeed ih getting their attention, they make
satisfactory progress ; in some cases they make great proficiency. As a rule, T find that in
these cases they seldom come back to the prison. It has often gratified me when I found
the ti'ouble I had taken with them was not thrown away. Those prisoners who have learned
to read and write are full of gratitude.
" The class I have referred to meets three times a-week, and the pupils have also work to
do in their cells in writing and cyphering. When I see them bring their slates well filled
and done satisfactorily, I frequently go to thein privately in their cells, and urge them on,
and congratulate them upon their progress.
*' The second adult class consists of pupils further advanced in their education; some of
whom have been transferred from the lower class. Their instruction consists of reading,
writing, arithmetic, the elements of geography, and subjects of a general character.
"I can always tell," continued Mr. Barre, "when they are interested, and if I see
their attention.fiag on one subject I immediately change to another.
" The grand secret is to interest them in what they are doing. I try to instil into their
minds that if they do not learn something every day it is a day wasted ; and I am in the habit
of reviewing the lessons of the preceding day, to impress them more fully into their memory,
and to build them up in solid improvement.
" I have about 20 adults attending this class, which meets three times a-week, their age
averaging from 16 to 30. The younger prisoners are generally the most proficient. The
minds of the young are keener and more elastic than those of more advanced years, and
more suseeptible of retaining their acquirements.
"I have other two classes of adults whose attainments nearly resemble each other.
Their education consists, in addition to the instruction imparted to the others, of a more
advanced knowledge of geography, the outlines of history, and some of the higher rules of
arithmetic as far as Practice and Vulgar and Decimal Fractions. These classes meet twice
a-week, and are attended by 45 prisoners, their ages averaging from 16 to 30.
" We have also a singing class held on Friday afternoon, for practice in Psalmody and
the Outlines of Hullah's System of Music, in which the prisoners take great delight. I
learn them tunes and anthems for the chapel. This class is attended by about 40 persons,
generally of the best educated, and the best behaved men in the prison.
There are two juvenile classe?, consisting of boys from 8 to 16 years of age. The
branches of education taught are, in a good measure, similar to those in the adult classes.
One of them consists of boys who do not know their letters, or are learning monosyllables.
A large number of the boys in the juvenile prison are of this order. They are taught
reading, writing on the slate, and the elements of general knowledge, such as the outlines
of the History of England, and the elementary principles of arithmetic, by questions and
answers. This class is instructed every day in the juvenile wing, as we have already
noticed.
" The boys in general feel interested in the school and its exercises. One of the severest
punishments which can be inflicted on them is to prevent them from attending the class. I
am particularly interested in the juvenile classes. In many cases I am gratified in finding
that the pupils make decided progress. I often find that in the course of six months many
of these who have commenced to learn the letters with me are able to read the Testament,
and have made considerable progress in other branches of education.
" There is a higher juvenile class consisting of boys who are able to read tolerably. They
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, HOLLOW AY.
561
are taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, and the outlines of general subjects. Many of
these pupils, from the influences which are brought to bear upon them, are considerably
advanced in their acquirements before they leave prison, when their sentence is of any
duration. Their behaviour in school is very correct. I have been teacher in the prison for
eight years, and never had occasion to report a single prisoner for bad conduct whüe under
my care. I believe the chief reason of this is, that they are led to take an interest in the
classes. '* I find," says Mr. Barre, " that boys are like men. If they feel that people are
really interested in them there is less likelihood of their misconducting themselves ; on the
contrary, there is every inducement for them to act in a commendable way.
" Sometimes I have a lot of raw recruits in my class. They seem at first a little
fidgetty, but a few stern or kind remarks has a beneficial efiect on them, I never jar their
feelings by making any personal remark, but aUude to their misbehaviour in a general way,
which I find to be preferable. I want them to feel at home with me, and wish them to
forget, if they will let me, that they are criminals, and to fancy themselves to be my guests
at home in my parlour ; that they have come to learn as much from me as they possibly can,
and that the boy who makes the greatest progress is the one I shaU take the greatest interest
in. It is always a painful duty to me to be supposed watching any one. I wish them
to behave as well when my eye is taken off them, as when I am looking to them, and then
they will be sure to be benefited by their contact with me.
" This is the spirit in which I conduct the operations in my school, and it has the effect of
attaching them to me in almost every case. I have seen some of the greatest felons blush
deeply when my eye has caught them in some slight misconduct. My chief aim is always
to gain a good moral impression, and then the influence is lasting.
" I select the pupils for the various classes in this way. I visit all the prisoners when
received into prison, and take a note of their state of education, and report to the chaplain in
reference to those who are deficient, and obtain his sanction to their attendance in the school.
Those whose sentence is less than six weeks are not eligible to attend school. Some felons
have acquired a fair education in the prison ; but of this class," said Mr. Barre, " we have
no adults who were not with us when boys.
" There is a circulating library in the prison, which is under my control. The books,
which are on general information, and moral and religious in their character, are distributed
throughout the cells, and changed every week. There are two books—a secular and a
religious volume—left in each. The majority of the prisoners take great interest in them,
and read them attentively at meal hours and in the evening. The library is one of our most
useful auxiliaries in promoting the mental and moral improvement of the prisoners, and is
of great advantage to us.
" I always endeavour," continued Mr. Barre, " to keep the mind well employed, and
frequently change the books of many of the prisoners that have a thirst for reading, who
also have an opportunity of applying for additional books from the officer. The better
educated prisoners, such as clerks and commercial travellers, take great advantage of the
library. In going my rounds over the male prison, I know pretty well the parties who are
fond of reading, and always take care to provide them with books to entertain and improve
them.
" The highest class of adults write outlines of the chaplain's sermons, and some of them
do it exceedingly well.
" The more respectable and better educated men do not come to the classes, but read in
their cells, and are supplied with slates on which they write English composition exercises
sometimes of a poetical character—some of them, from specimens furnished us, not devoid of
literary ability."
662
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDOH.
STATE OF EDUCATION FOE THE YEAE ENDING SEPTEMBEE, 186x.
SUMMAKT CONVICTIONS.
CENTBAL CEIMINAX COTJET CONVICTIONS.
Males.
October
Noyember
December ....
January
February
March
April
May ../
June
July
August
September ....
Not
read nor
write.
Read
only.
Imp.
WeU.
Total.
Not
read nor
write.
Bead
only.
Imp.
WeU.
Total.
10
13
26
9
58
October
6
2
11
19
26
15
46
12
99
November
2
i
9
8
20
20
8
42
10
80
December
1
* • ■
2
2
5
22
12
49
10
93
January
1
• ta
7
2
10
24
16
57
8
105
February
2
• •a
4
6
12
22
12
58
9
106
March
..a
...
...
...
26
7
32
12
77
April
2
1
16
11
30
16
16
37
11
80
May
2
1
2
4 ■
9
26
4
46
11
87
June
5
• aa
6
1
12
20
8
55
12
95
July
1
act
6
1
8
17
13
48
10
. 88
August
1
1
12
3
17
20
17
59
10
101
September ....
3
9
12
24
249
141
555
124
1069
Totals...
26
4
75
61
166
NÜMBEE OF PREVIOUS COMMITTALS.
Males.
SEMMABIES. CENTBAI. CBIMtKAL COVET,
Once. Twice. Thrice. 4 times and over. Once. Twice. Thrice. 4 times and over. Total»
164 81 38 139 I 18 5 5 12 462
Females.
Not
read nor
write.
Bead
only.
Imp.
WeU.
Total
October
9
2
11
22
Noyember
27
15
14
2
58
December
7
8
10
3
28
January .......
10
9
13
1
33
February
12
11
14
...
37
March
14
13
14
3
44
April
11
7
14
3
35
May
13
11
10
...
34
June
6
7
8
a a .
21
July
14
0
13
3
40
August
15
19
11
1
36
September . ..
15
7
13
5
40
Totals...
153
109
145
21
428
Not
read nor
write.
Bead
only.
Imp.
WeU.
Total.
October
1
1
November ....
2
i
2
a a a
5
December .....
aa a
• a*.
aa«
January
• aa
• •>
3
3
February
aa.
• ••
...
...
March
1
a a a
1
April
1
1
3
5
May
1
...
...
1
June
a.a
...
1
• ••
1
July
1
3
3
1
8
August
1
...
2
1
4
September ....
1
...
...
1
Totals...
9
5
14
2
30
NUMBER OF PREVIOUS COMMITTALS.
Females.
SUMMABIE3. CENTBAL OBIMINAL COVET.
Onoe. Twice. Thrice. 4 times and over. Once. Twice. Thrice. 4 times and over. Total.
61 33 14 70 I 2 2 2 ... i»4
*#* Tailors' cmd ShocmaJcers' Room.—We went into the associated room adjoining the
adult schoolroom, in corridor B, where a number of the felon tailors and shoemakers are
employed. It is of similar dimensions to the latter, and on the day of our visit was occupied
by eleven shoemakers and fifteen tailors.
HOUSE OF COREECTION, HOLLOWAT.
563
The tailors were seated cross-legged on a large board, in an elevated position, on one side
of the room, with gas fittings in the centre, and the shoemakers were ranged in rows on the
other side.
The tailors were employed making different articles of dress, such as coats, vests, trousers,
etc., for the children of the Emmanuel Hospital, and dark gray clothing for prison use.
Most of them were young men, several of a very interesting appearance, some were middle-
aged. A smart, fair complexioned youth in the centre, was busy pressing the seam of a
brown cloth jacket, another was busy repairing a pair of prison trousers, sewing the white
lining on the dark gray cloth, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, and the brass register number
suspended on his breast. A middle-aged man, with an intellectual appearance, was bending
down sewing the padding into the breast of a coat. A younger man, of genteel appearance,
was actively pressing the seam of a pair of trousers, while his companion, a young lad of about
seventeen, was stitching at the sleeve of a brown jacket. Many of them sat with their
jackets off ; several of them regarded us with an open, frank, good-humoured countenance.
Others looked with thoughtful curiosity, wondering what could be the object of our visit,
and some stole occasional glances at us, as they sat with drooping head over their work. Mr.
Taylor, the warder in attendance, informed us, that some of them had been convicted of
embezzlement ; others of unlawful possession of goods ; some for attempting to pick pockets,
and one for deserting his wife and family.
" We make here," he added, " all the prison clothing for the male juveniles and adults,
the uniforms for the oflScers of the prison, as well as of Hewgate, and for the officers at the
Guildhall and the Mansion House. In addition to this, we make clothing for the boys of the
Emmanuel Hospital, Westminster, numbering about thirty. We also do slop-work for
different mercantile firms in the Metropolis, consisting of jackets, vests, trousers, and over¬
coats, and execute the necessary repairs on the prison clothing.
" There are some of the prisoners here," said Mr. Taylor, " who have never used the
needle until they came into the prison. After being with us for about six months, they are
able to make vests and trouSers, and assist in making coats. These could scarcely get a
livelihood by their work out of doors ; but others, who have been here for about eighteen
months, are capable of making a comfortable livelihood. There are others who had learned
to sew before they entered the prison, who have become more expert during their imprison¬
ment, and by the time their sentence expires, will be tolerable workmen. There are some
employed here who are fair workmen, and have entirely got the knowledge of their business
while in prison.
" Some of these," said Mr. Taylor, " for example, that fair-complexioned, genteel young
man, who sits opposite to us, are first-rate tradesmen, able to take their place in the most
fashionable establishments in London. Here is a handsome overcoat made by two of the
prisoners, which is a good specimen of their workmanlike ability."
Each prisoner is expected to make one pair of trousers a-day, and very few of them
inake more than this. They are engaged at work about eight hours a day, exclusive of the
time spent in chapel, at school, and on the exercising ground.
The shoemakers were sitting by their stalls, some of them making boots and shoes, and
others were busy repairing the prison shoes. One man was engaged hammering a welt,
another was scraping the heel of a boot with a knife. A young, fair-complexioned lad,
appeared to be absorbed in closing an upper leather ; a middle-aged, pale-faced man, with a
very flat chest, was busy sewing the welt of a female boot. The boot was fastened on his
knee by a leathern strap, held tight by his left foot.
There is a counter on the other side of the room for the warder, with drawers underneath,
to contain materials required in his department. At the back of the counter is a rack with
lasts of different sizes, a heap of old brown and mouldy shoes condemned by the governor,
lay on one side of the room, which are occasionally cut up, and used to repair the prison shoes.
564
TH® GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
We observed a fire-place and stove with an oven, to heat the tailors' irons. A prison
warder generally stands by, overlooking the varions workmen.
" Most of the young men here," remarked the warder to us, " have learned what they
know of shoemaking with me."
In answer to our inquiries, he informed us—" We make all the shoes worn in the
prison by males, as well as females, and likewise for the officers of the prison, and the pupils
of the Emmanuel Hospital, and execute the necessary repairs. These fully engage all our
hands. I generally get the new beginners to work at closing the uppers, which is a very
simple process. From closing the uppers they advance to sewing the bottoms to the uppers,
and are very soon able to finish an ordinary shoe.
" We make fine work occasionally, such as the officers' shoes, which are tastefully done.
There are prison tailors with us at present who would do credit to the first establishments
in London." Here the warder showed us a Balmoral boot made for a boy, a very handsome
article, the bottoms being of superior work, and also the stitching of the upper.
" The workmen generally finish one boot a-day ; some of them do more. We begin our
work at seven in the morning in winter, and continue tiU eight in the evening, with the
exception of the hours at chapel, school, meals, and exercise.
" Some of the workmen who have been entirely trained with me, will be able to get a
decent livelihood at their trade by the time they leave us. There are several here that
have had some training preAÙously, who will become more proficient by the time their
imprisonment expires. In the course of repeated imprisonments, some ultimately become
tolerable workmen.
" You see that boy there," said the warder, " in the centre of the group. He has learned
shoemaking with me, and is now able to make a pair of shoes in tolerably good condition.
That middle aged man, with his head bending beside his knee, is a first-rate workman."
On leaving the associated room by the door which opens into the gallery, we saw one of
the prisoners laving the face of another with soap, preparatory to being shaved.
Adjoining this room is a store, into which we were conducted by the chief warder, and
shown a stock of garments consisting of jackets, trousers, and vests, prepared for the boys of
the Emmanuel Hospital, with a variety of other clothes and materials.
Eetracing our steps along the gallery towards the central hall, we saw on the floor beneath
a fide of prisoners in dark gray prison dress, and blue caps, with the register number on the
arms of their jackets, and the brass circular plate, containing the number of their cell,
suspended on their breast. A warder in uniform stood in attendance. We noticed that the
flooring of the galleries is composed of blue slate, fenced on the outer side by an iron railing
of a tasteful design, painted of a stone colour, the top, along which the food carriages are
rolled, being painted of a mahogany tint to give it the appearance of wood.
Before leaving the B wing we visited several of the cells. In one of them we found a
smart young man with a very interesting appearance. When brought to the prison he was
very genteelly dressed in a dark suit of clothes, cap with peak, gloves, and Inverness cape.
To use his own words, he thinks it must have been a thief who invented the latter article of
dress. He was about twenty-one years of age, beneath the middle size, with a broad brow
and finely-formed countenance, and rich dark eyes, and is reported to be a very expert pick¬
pocket, and has been several times previously convicted. He told us his paients were
respectable people, and his mother died when he was about four years of age. After this his
father married another woman, and became a drunkard. His stepmother was unkind to him,
and turned him out of doors to get his livelihood in the best way he could. At this time he
became acquainted with Several thieves and learned picking pockets, at which he was
considered to be expert.
In answer to our interrogatories, he states that for about three years he had cohabited
with a female who sincerely loved him, and assumed his name. On one occasion, while he
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, EOLLOWAY.
565
was in Holloway Prison, she was there along with him, and used to write his name on the
dinner covers, which was detected by the officers of the prison. On his release, after twelve
months' confinement, he had resolved to live an honest life ; parted from this young woman
so deeply attached to him, and wrought as a labourer in St. Katherine's Docks at 2«, 6d. per
day, when he again became unfortunate, and was driven to steal.
The young man further stated with an earnest, ingenuous countenance, " After I leave
prison what am I to do ?" My father is a poor drunkard. My stepmother would take
money from me, rather than assist me, and would not inquire where I got it ? I have a
younger sister employed at a match manufactory, who only earns from 6«. to 7s. per week. She
would gladly assist me with 2s. &d., and consider it a treasure, but I feel within myself I
could not take it from her. I would gladly accept any honest employment, however menial,
and most willingly enter Her Majesty's royal navy for any period to get away from my old
companions, and criminal life."
We entered another cell, where we saw a tall gentlemanly-looking youth with a particu¬
larly high forehead, and clear gentle hazel eye. He had recently been indisposed. In
answer to the inquiries of the chief warder, he stated he was much better. We looked to
his card, and found he was charged with felony. We asked him the particular nature of his
offence. He stated he had been a waiter at a private boarding-house in the metropolis, and
that an old gentleman, recently returned from Tasmania, had taken a great fancy to him.
As the old gentleman was going to York, he intrusted him with the keys of his apartments,
and in an unguarded moment he pledged some silver plate belonging to him, to raise funds to
enable him to proceed on a jaunt into the country. On the chief warder asking him if there
was not a female connected with the matter, he admitted, with a smile, there was, but
added that she had no connection with the felony. It appears he loved a young woman in a
tradesman's family, and intended to take a trip with her into the country, and with this
motive he robbed the old gentleman of his plate.
In another cell we saw a fair-complexioned, good-looking man, of about thirty years of
age, about five feet six inches in height, with an uncommonly smart appearance. The chief
warder knew him to be a most accomplished pickpocket and burglar of the highest class, and
has observed his career for the past nineteen years. Strange to say, he happened to be the very
person we had scared for picking a lady's pocket in Cheapside about three months ago, as
recorded in the fourth volume of the "London Labour and the London Poor." He is at
present undergoing three calendar months' hard labour, for picking a lady's pocket of a watch
in the City two days subsequent to this occurrence, and was arrested chiefly by the treachery
of a female with whom he had cohabited. He was very conversant on the burglaries and
robberies of various descriptions he had committed in the course of his career. Many of them
were perpetrated in the City as well as over the United Kingdom. He had lately returned
Irom Flanders. He is a returned convict, and one of the most ad roit thieves in London.
In another cell we saw a plain-looking youth of twenty-three years of age, who had
been fourteen times in prison. The first occasion was when he was seven years of age. He
was formerly at 8t. Patrick's Eoman Catholic School, Lambeth, and remarked to us few of
the pupils who attend this school turn out well.
In an adjoining cell we saw an elderly man, almost bald in front, with a long thin face,
and blue, earnest eyes. He was a shoemaker by trade, and charged with stealing a door-mat.
He had been eight times previously convicted. His infirmity, according to his own confes¬
sion, was strong drink. He is very inoffensive when sober, and was at one time in a good
situation in the Duke of York's Military School, Chelsea. He gave us a profound military
salute on leaving his cell.
In the next ceU was a painful spectacle. There we saw a silver-headed old man of
between, sixty and seventy years of age, who had been guilty of stealing books from a shop-
door in Bishopsgate Street. He said he committed the felony to keep him from starving, and
566
THE GREAT "WORLD OP LONDOK
that this was his first offence. He generally worked as a labourer at the docks. He had an
open frank appearance very different from the majority of the criminals around him.
The following is an inventory of the work done for the past year;—
Shoemaking.
Shoes for prisoners .
Prisoners' oWn shoes repaired before discharge
Hammock straps . . .
Uniform belts and straps for officers .
Pouches ....
Por Emmanuel Hospital :—
Boys' boots . .
Girls' do. ...
Officers' own, and families hoofs and shoos
Made.
218
180
20
20
Repaired.
2177
150
908
Mat-making,
Rug and diamond mats
Board mats .
Imitation board mats
Double boarded mats
Outsizes .
64
206
75
115
76
150
the last
year
Made.
•
14,781
798
•
831
2818
•
2073
21,301
The following is a list of the articles of clothing made and repaired during the last
year :—
Tailoring.
Jackets for prisoners
"Vests for prisoners
Pairs of trousers for prisoners
Braces for prisoners
Stocks for prisoners
Hammocks for prisoners
Uniform great-coats for officers
„ frock-coat ,,
„ trousers
Drawers
Caps
Jackets
Vests
»
it
Clothing for the Emmanuel Hospital, consisting of—
Suits of boys clothes . .
Outfits for boys to send to sea . •
Made.
146
268
267
164
60
.32
43
51
JO
37
1
1
33
36
Repaii ed.
2339
1218
3169
233
86
520
28
48
72
Infirmary.—We entered the C ward, at the farther extremity, and saw two large
rooms, exactly similar in dimensions to those we visited in the B wing, which are here used as
an infirmary. We found several prisoners confined by slight indisposition. There is a dis¬
pensary adjoining, which is furnished with medicines for the use of the prisoners. It is under
HOUSE OF COEEECTIOH, HOLLOWAY.
567
the immediate care of a warder, and has the appearance of a druggist's shop with the phials
carefully labelled and arranged on shelves erected around the walls. One of those large rooms
made use of for infirmary purposes was empty. It is furnished with a table in the centre,
and a form on either side, with a copious supply of bedsteads and chairs. It is well venti¬
lated by flues, and one of the large windows can be drawn down from the top to admit a
current of fresh air. There is a comfortable fireplace in the room.
We proceeded to the other room with the infirmary warder. There we found nine beds
in the apartment. There was only one patient in bed, an old man, who was suffering from
rheumatism. There were six other invalids in the room afflicted with rheumatism and cold,
while a seventh acted as nurse. There happened to be no serious case of illness at the time
of our visit. Some were reading by the comfortable fire, or seated on the bedsteads.
The bedding consisted of a straw palliasse, a blue striped mattress stuffed with wool, a
pair of blankets, a pair of sheets, a pUlow containing horse-hair, and a blue striped coverlet
of a neat appearance. At the side of each bed there is a portable cupboard where the
prisoners can deposit their utensils and food. There are also several shelves in the room,
which is lighted by gas jets.
A pale-faced young man sat on a seat by the fire in apparently a very infirm condition,
suffering from a pulmonary complaint. He breathed with great difflculty, his breast heaving
convulsively at each respiration.
Another smart young man was confined, who was occasionally subject to fits.
Ohapel.—The chapel is a large and elegant building, fitted to accommodate the whole
of the prisoners at one service. It is much larger than the one at Wandsworth. The adults
are ranged in two divisions along the far extending galleries in front. The juveniles meet
in an inclosure on the left hand, and the females in another on the right, and are not seen by
each other. The chaplain occupies a pulpit in the centre of a pew, erected adjoining the
wall, in front of the adults, about the same height as in other chapels. The governor and
his family sit on the right hand, and the chaplain's family on the left. There is besides
accommodation for the chief warder, and any of the magistrates or other visitors. On the
wall, beneath the pulpit, is tastefully inscribed a copy of the Lord's Prayer, the Ten Com¬
mandments, and the Apostles' Creed. Underneath this is the Communion table fenced within
an oaken railing, raised two steps above the level of the floor.
A lofty strong iron railing separates the adults in the gallery from the area below. The
lower part of the gallery is divided by a low wooden railing, with a stair on each side lead¬
ing to the second landing, and extending upwards on each side of this passage to an entry on
the third landing above, which is on a level with the highest galleries in the corridors. The
interior of the chapel is lighted at dusk with a circlet of gas lights suspended from the lofty
roof as well as by a series of gas jets on each side of the galleries.
So soon as the beU rang, we entered the chapel along with the governor, and sat in the
elevated pew before referred to, entered by a door from behind, and had a commanding view
of the adults ranged along in the ample galleries, attired in their dark prison dress. It was
a more cheerful scene than the chapel service at Wandsworth and Pentonville, where the
heads of the prisoners could only be seen occasionally peering over the iron clasped boxes in
which they were confined. Most of the adults were from eighteen to thirty years of age,
yet we noticed several bald-headed men amongst them, some of them with a very respectable
appearance. One elderly gentleman in particular, imprisoned for fraudulent bankruptcy, had
a superior air to the mass of the felons around him. We could single out a few good-looking
young men, clerks and others, with an engaging manner. The mass of the prisoners belong
to the ordinary felon class of the metropolis ; some with a dull dark beetling brow, and
others with a sharp clear aspect, indicating a more acute and lively mind. Many of them
we conjectured, from their arched eyebrows and peculiar features, were of Hibernian extrae-
668
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
tion. Two warders, with their backs to each other, were stationed in the centre of the
gallery. One of the prinçipal warders sat at the back of thegaUery facing the chaplain.
Many of the female prisoners were of a degraded appearance, though we could single out
a number of good-looking felons among them, some of them very expert shoplifters and
pickpockets.
The religious services were listened to with the greatest propriety. Many showed a
devout frame of mind in the devotional exercises, and apparently joined with great fervour
in the Psalmody, which was most decorously conducted. The chaplain delivered an
admirable discourse, which was listened to with marked attention.
At the close of the services, the governor informed us that fifteen of the adults had not
read their books during worship, and remarked that thirty-five of the seventy females present,
were unable to read.
He further added, " That some of the prisoners present had lately rode in their carriages
to their place of business in the City, and were here incarcerated for fraudulent bankruptcy."
In answer to our inquiries regarding the chapel service, the reception warder gave us the
foUowing information :—" At a quarter-past eight o'clock the principal warder in charge
rings the bell for the prisoners to proceed to the chapel. The warders then unlock the cells
in the various corridors. The prisoners pass in files along the galleries, about three yards
apart from each other. At the chapel door, a principal warder and an ordinary warder,
count the prisoners of each corridor passing into the chapel, as a check on the number of
prisoners in the reception wards. They enter the chapel from the second and third landings
adjoining the central hall, and after service are again conducted back to their cells in a
similar manner."
We were introduced by the governor to the chaplain, when we learned that prisoners of
all sects of religion attend the chapel with the exception of one Roman Catholic, a very eccen¬
tric man. All controversial subjects are excluded from the services.
Every morning, immediately on leaving chapel, those prisoners who were admitted into
the prison on the previous day, are brought before the chaplain, who takes a note of their
register number, and the number of their cell, whether married or not, number of children,
the parish and county to which they belong, their trade or occupation, whether in work or
not, their previous commitments, their offence, the cause of their offence, their sentence, the
date of their discharge, their education and religious training, and whether they have attended
Divine worship during the last six months.
The chaplain generaUy gives them something to learn, such as Scripture texts, suitable
to their position and state of mind, which they commit to memory, and repeat to him about
a fortnight or a month after. When they are in difficulty as to the meaning of any passage
of Scripture in their Bible readings in the cells, they are urged to come to him for an expla¬
nation immediately after service.
The Rev. Mr. Owen, the chaplain, " considers it a very interesting sphere of labour.
Leaving out the professional thief, who rarely reforms he states, " there are many, who
date their first serious impressions from the time of their imprisonment. He has in his
possession several letters written to him by prisoners on the eve of their discharge, and after
some months' absence, in which, while they deplore the sin that brought them to prison,
they thank God that it pleased Him, whRe there, to open their eyes to their position in his
sight ; and here, it must be remembered, that they have no motive for hypocrisy, as, unlike a
convict prison, they gain no remission of sentences by good behaviour. The solitude of the
cell has a beneficial effect on most characters, not hardened in vice. The prisoners are all
very fond of the singing-class which assembles every Friday to practise the psalms and
hymns for the Sunday. Occasionally the chaplain's wife, with the help of the school¬
master and the harmonium, teaches them a new tune, which seems to give them much
pleasure. Many a prisoner who is unimpressed by anything else, is moved to tears while
HOUSE GE COERECTIOH, HOLLOW AT.
569
singing a hymn. There are many educated men amongst the prisoners, but the chaplain
has not had one educated female under his charge. There are eight lady visitors, who meet
the chaplain every Thursday in the committee-room. After engaging in prayer, they call
on the female prisoners in their various cells. Those who wish to reform have the offer of
admission into a reformatory."
Searing Iteports.—Leaving the ohapel, we accompanied the governor down the
hack staircase leading to his office, to hear the applications made by the prisoners, as well as
the reports (if any), brought before him for misconduct. This is a handsome apartment,
and elegantly furnished. We here observed a table of calculations or ready reckoner of
provisions, according to the Government scale. Opposite the number of prisoners, ranging
from 10 up to 500, it shows the exact weight in pounds and ounces, thereby saving much
time in making out the calculation for the issue of provisions. There is a corresponding
table in the steward's office.
A good-looking man, of about thirty years of age, was introduced into the office. He
modestly statpd to the governor, " I wish to write a letter to my wife. She asks me to
write to her. My sentence expires on the 19th of February. I would also feel obliged if
you would permit my hair and whiskers to grow." His request was granted.
An elderly man, with silver hair, and genial countenance, wished to have a sheet of
foolscap paper to write to his friends.
Gov. I shall send it you to-day.
A young man, of short stature—a German Jew—was then ushered in. He was about
twenty-two years of age, dark-complexioned, with low forehead; and had an air of petulance.
He complained, in an irritable tone, that a prisoner in the tailors' associated room, had
taken away his thread. The governor told him to be quiet, and to keep his temper.
A tall, good-looking, dark-complexioned man came in, and requested, in Irish accents,
if the governor would allow his hair and whiskers to grow, as his sentence would expire in
six weeks. He was imprisoned for a brawl with the police, when in a state of intoxication.
His request was acceded to.
A cripple, of about forty years of age, was then ushered in. He had lost one of his
legs in the late Crimean war, and was charged with obtaining money on false pretences.
He asked permission to allow his beard, whiskers, and moustache to grow. The governor
stated he would not permit the moustache, but he would allow his beard and whiskers to grow.
A tall young man, of about eighteen years of age, with a long face, and frank comu-
tenance, stepped up towards the governor. He was an Irishman, with a narrow brow, and
frill underface. He was charged with vrrangling with the German Jew above referred to,
in the tailors' associated room. He complained that the Jew unreasonably wished to appro¬
priate all the thread to himself, and acted just as he pleased.
Gov. Don't pay ahy attention to him. You see he has an irritable disposition. If I
hear any more complaints against him, I shall shift him from the shop.
Upon this the German Jew was called in as the other retired. The governor told bim
he saw through his artful design ; and thought there was something wrong. He had brought
an application to see him (the governor), because tigere was a report against birtiHolf, He
warned bim to take care of his conduct, and not to quarrel about such trifling matters.
The other young man was then called in.
Gov. Is this thread yours ?
Toung man. The other prisoners, besides us, know it is miue. It was lying on the
board, and was free to all. This man (the Jew) keeps it to himself, and kicks up a row
about it.
Gov. In future, I shall give you your thread separately; so that there shall be no
occasion to quarrel.
670
THE GEEA.T WORLD OF LONDON.
The Jew. (Contorting his countenance). I have been in a hundred tailors* shops, and
never was meddled with in this Way.
Oov. If you are brought up to me again for sq[uabbling in the tailors' shop, I shall put
you in a dark cell.
The Jew. What is squabbling ?
Qov. Quarrelling,
The German Jew looked very cross, and left the apartment with his hands behind his
back.
A little, sharp, fair-complexioned lad was charged by a warder with changing places on
the exercising ground.
Ooo. Why did you do it, boy ?
Warder. He wanted to go alongside of some one he knew.
(The lad stood mute, with his hands behind his back.)
Gov. Will you do it again ?
Tris. No, sir.
Oov. If you are brought before me another time, I will remember. How often have
you been reported since you came to the prison ?
Tris. Twice, sir.
The governor remarked to us. "For the past eight days there have only been two
punishments, inflicted, which was done by stopping the bread at supper. This was for the
offence of giving and receiving bread.
*#* The Tread-wheel.—We visited the tread-wheel, which is worked to pump water for
the whole prison, and situated between the C and D wings. The apartment in which it
is contained is about 24 feet 6 inches in breadth, and 54 feet 6 inches in length, having a
small inclosure penned off opposite the wheel, containing machinery, connecting the wheel
with the pumps, which are adjoining. The tread-wheel consists of two divisions or com¬
partments, the larger one being intended for the adults, and the smaller for juveniles.
There are sixteen boxes in the larger compartment and eight in the other.
In front of the wheel there are eighteen inclosed seats erected alongside of each other
in the larger compartment, where the prisoners are engaged in picking oakum in the
intervals of labour. There are ten boxes in the smaller compartments where the juveniles
Work ; two of them being generally occupied by the prisoners engaged on the handles of
the pumps in the inclosure already referred to.
There are two warders in charge of the tread-wheel, one on the one side, and another
on the other ; all of which arrangements have been admirably sketched in an engraving
given in a former part of the work.
Between these two divisions, and on the right hand side as we enter, there is an inclosed
space, in which a portion of the machinery is situated, and a weU has been sunk to the
depth of 370 feet, from which the water is pumped by the treadmill, and conveyed to
large tanks on the top of the building, from which the whole of the prison is supplied.
At the time of our visit there were ten prisoners engaged in the larger division of the
wheel and eight on the smaller, and two of them were bending and straining at the pump
handles. As the wheel turned steadily round, each man took an upward step, keeping
time with the velocity of the wheel. Some had stripped off their jackets to work with
greater freedom ; several were toiling lazily at the work, and others were active and elastic,
particularly some of the younger lads, who took it remarkably easy. Most of them were
young men, varying from sixteen to thirty-five years of age, many of them being short and
active, and evidently felons of the metropolis. One or two of them appeared to be clerks oi
shopmen, from their superior look and manner even in the prison dress. One man,
advanced in life, sat on one of the seats near us, with a heavy, stupid counteuance ; many
PRISONERS' CONSULTING ROOM, NEWGATE.
HOUSE OF CORRECTION, FOLLOWAT.
571
of the others had the keen sharp eye and roguish look, characteristic of many of onr
London felons.
Those sitting in the seats in front were busy picking oakum, in the interval of tread-wheel
labour, as they were occasionally relieved from the wheel, and others took their places. They
did not appear to he so fatigued with the hard labour as we expected—not nearly so much
as those toiling at the hand-mills in the separate cells in Wandsworth prison.
One of the prisoners, a young man who had been slightly indisposed, was offered some
medicine by one of the warders, but refused to take it, and was chided for his disobedience
by the reception w&rder who accompanied us.
There is a beU attached to the wheel, which rings every two minutes and a half, marking
a certain number of revolutions. At certain intervals, three prisoners come down from the
wheel, and other three leave the seats in the area, and take their places.
Each man, on going to the wheel, steps up on a form in front, and thence plants one foot
on the wheel, at the same time laying hold with his hand on an iron handle to keep himself
in an upright position. In the event of his not keeping pace with the wheel, he is brought
down, and liable to be injured. From the motive of self-preservation, he is compelled to
keep pace with it. At the top of each box or inclosure there is a ventilator for the admis¬
sion of fresh air, and it is numbered in the inside, by which number the prisoner is called
when there is occasion. There is a corresponding number on the outside, for the use of the
officer on duty.
At the extremity of the shed on the left hand, there is a water-closet, and upon the walls
on either side is a notice that silence is to be strictly observed. The building is weU lighted
and ventUated.
Each prisoner remains on the wheel for twenty minutes at a time, and alternately picks
oakum in the seats in front for other twenty minutes. The wheel is five feet in diameter,
and makes three revolutions in two minutes and a half.
The tread-wheel labour generally lasts from seven o'clock in the morning till four o'clock
in the afternoon, with the exception of the hours spent in chapel, at meals, etc. The pri¬
soners are employed on the wheel on an average of four hours and a half per day. The labour
is not very oppressive to a considerable number of them. Some, however, appear to be very
fatigued at the close of the day. We observed a long file of prisoners from the tread-mill
passing through one of the corridors on their way to their cells, who v^ere, apparently, in no
way exhausted with their day's task.
The average amount of distance travelled by the prisoners on the wheel is about 6500
feet in winter, and about 8700 feet in summer—much below the maximum height allowed
by law, which is 11,000 feet. When sufficient water is obtained the prisoners are taken off
and placed at more remunerative labour.
The greatest regularity and good order prevail here.
Adjoining the treadwheel and attached to it is a shed covered with zinc, con¬
taining twenty-two separate stalls, with a jlump-handle in each, to give additionaí
assistance to the wheel if necessary, as both can be employed to pump water for the use of
the prison.
*#* Exercising Oromds.—There are five exercising grounds attached to HoUoway
Prison—one close to the female wing on one side of the courtyard leading into the prison,
and another to the juvenile wing on the opposite side, and three at the back of the main
prison, one of them near the end of B wing, another near to the C wing, and a third between
the B and C wings, as seen in the bird's-eye view of the prison.
Leaving the tread «wheel, we visited the adult exercising grounds. The prisoners were
then actively engaged in exercise in the various concentric circles, aU. within sight of each
other, attended by several warders, and under the inspection of one of the principal warders.
42
572
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
The spaces between the two extreme exercising concentric circles were planted with kitchen
vegetables, while the central one was a hard beaten portion of ground between the B and 0
wings, which had not been planted, but is used as a drying ground. There are four iron
posts in the latter, to which drying lines are attached, with a lamp in the centre lighted
with gas at dusk.
The day of our visit was bitterly cold, and the prisoners were walking smartly along to
keep themselves in heat, particularly in the central ground, where they hurried round in
double quick time. Many of them were pale and shivering from the keen biting air ; others
were of a bluish tint, and some of their cheeks were of a dull red. They generally kept
about three yards apart from each other. The generality of them were of the ordinary felon
stock. In the prison-dress it would, in many cases, be difficult to distinguish the casual
from the habitual offender. There was less military precision in their movements on this
occasion than in the case of the gloomy masked men at Wandsworth and PentonviUe, but
this we believe, was owing to the inclemency of the weather.
There is a carriage-drive around the back of the prison. The surrounding grounds are
planted with kitchen vegetables of various descriptions, for the use of the prisoners, and with
a large quantity of mangold-wurzel, which is sold to dairies.
There is a pavement extending around the exterior of the wings, about six feet in breadth^
close to the prison.
While we stood in the garden along with the reception warder, overlooking this lively'
scene, we saw another gang of prisoners taken out to replace this detachment which was
removed to the different corridors.
The adult exercising grounds are fenced by a lofty wall stretching across from the ex¬
tremity of the D wing to the boundary wall separating it from the grounds attached to the
femlale wing, and from the extremity of the A wing to the opposite boundary wall, dividing
it from the garden attached to the juvenile prison. The exercising circles are overlooked by
the range of houses on the left hand.
We were conductbd into the garden attached to the female prison, where we found thq
warder in charge, perched on a ladder placed against the wall, overlooking five of the pri¬
soners, mostly young lads, engaged in removing earth from a mound to fiU up a cesspool at
the comer of the garden. On being introduced to him, he stated, " It is my duty to super¬
intend the gardening operations. At present I have twelve men assisting me over the grounds.
In general I have from ten to twenty. We sow and plant a large quantity of potatoes,
leeks, cabbage, and other vegetables, for the supply of the prison.
The Kitchen.—We visited the kitchen, situated in the basement of D wing, and were
introduced to the cook. It was then about mid-day. He was busily engaged preparing
dinner, which was about to be served up.
There are six large boilers in the kitchen with copper lids—each of them having a steam
pipe communicating with a large boiler in an adjoining recess. One boiler contained a large
quantity of broth, with huge pieces of beef. The cook uplifted several of them on a large
fork ; they appeared to be of excellent quality. They were carried away by one of the
prisoners in attendance, to be cut up into small portions to be put into the dining tins, and
distributed to the various prisoners in the different cells. We had a small quantity of soup
served up to us, which was very wholesome and palatable.
Another boiler contained a large quantity of potatoes which had just been cooked. They
were York Regents of an excellent quality.
A different boiler contained an enormous quantity of gruel, made of the best Scotch
oatmeal, to be served out for supper in the evening. It was fiUed to Ihe brim, with a white
creamy paste mantling on the surface. Cocoa is given on alternate days, and is prepared in
the other coppers we saw alongside.
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, HOLLOWAT.
573
Our readers have been famished with an excellent engraving of the interior of the kitchen
in a foregoing part of the work.
There are three doors leading through to a large central apartment, which contains a
long table on the side next the scullery, used for cutting up the bread and weighing it out,
and another table at the extremity on the left hand, used for cutting up the meat on those
days when soup is prepared. "We observed a large fireplace here used for cooking such articles
as are ordered by the surgeon for the use of the infirmary, with an oven attached to it.
The kitchen is paved with York slab, and neatly pencilled. There is a gas bracket
suspended from the roof in the centre, and over the door leading into the cutting-up room is
a dial for the convenience of the cook.
"We passed on to the scullery, which contains two sinks for the purpose of washing
the tins and other dishes. They are supplied with a tap at each end, one supplying hot, and
the other cold water. The bread trays are deposited on a table at the side of the room
when not in use, and the bright tins are carefully set in rows on a rack on another side.
Here we found a prisoner with some broth and mutton, which had been prepared for the use
of the infirmary.
We proceeded into the cutting-up room, where we found several prisoners,- assistants
of the cook, cutting up the meat for dinner, on a large table, while others were engaged
in filling the pannikins with potatoes and meat for dinner. Each pannikin is divided into
two compartments, one containing potatoes, and the other meat, each pannikin being furnished
with a knife.
The cook generally has four assistants in his work. An additional hand is occasionally
employed in the kitchen, who helps the engineer in attending to the furnace and other
duties.
The greater part of the long table in the cutting-up room was covered with trays fitted
with dinner tins, and the floor was also littered with them.
On the wall is suspended a long dark board for the cook's guidance, with a note of the
provisions to be served out to the different wards. It is corrected every morning by one of
the principal warders, who gives the necessary instructions.
We passed on to a large apartment nearly of a semi-circular form, situated under the
central hall. At each end is a windlass for hoisting up provisions to the various corridora,
and in the centre is a spiral staircase leading up through the central hall to the galleries of
the prison.
We ascended to the central hall, and saw the principal warder in charge superintending
the serving up of the dinner. The trays were conveyed along to the extremity of the
different gaEeries on food carriages, simûâr to the mode pursued in Pentonville and other
prisons. This operation was executed with great order and despatch.
In answer to our interrogatories, the cook informed us :—" The fire is generaEy lit
about three o'clock in the morning by one of the night watchmen, when the steam is got up
to prepare the gruel or cocoa, served up for breakfast on alternate days.
" I begin my duties," said the cook, " at seven o'clock in the morning, when the gruel
and cocoa is served up with bread to the different corridors ; sometimes cocoa and bread, at
other times gruel and bread. These are the breakfast operations. The butcher in general
arrives about ten o'clock, when we prepare for dinner, consisting of meat and potatoes, or
soup and potatoes, which are served up at one o'clock to all the branches of the prison.
" The gruel for supper is prepared at an early period of the day, generally at dinner-time,
and stands in the copper for several hours. By this means it becomes thicker, and its
qualities are improved, and besides it economizes our fuel. The bread is cut and weighed
out, to be served up with the gruel for the prisoners' supper, which ends the culinary
operations of the day."
We were informed there is no baker in the prison. The bread is contracted for by a
674
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
tradesman in the Metropolis, TTho supplies the prison every day. It is made of second flour,
and we found it to be of excellent quality.
We proceeded to the D wing in company with the chief warder. On visiting the cells
we found a number of prisoners engaged picking oakum. As we passed along, we found it
was an imperative duty in this prison for the prisoners to shut the doors of their cells, and at
the same time for the officer to test their being closed.
We visited the basement of corridor D, where there are eight large commodious baths,
similar to those we found in the reception ward. We passed through a door into a
passage, where there were several punishment cells, all of them then empty. We learned
there are very few punishments inflicted in this prison.
The doors resemble those of ordinary ceUs : about five feet distant is another door, which
deadens the noise created by any refractory prisoner. At present there are six dark cells,
but originally there were sixteen. Ten of them have been made into a workshop, " and it
is contemplated," said the governor to us, " to convert three of the present number into light
ceUs."
The Engineer's E&pwrtment.—We were introduced to the engineer of the prison, who
conducted us to the heating apparatus, or furnace-room, situated in the basement under the
surgeon's room, beneath the wide passage or hall conducting to the main prison, of which
our artist has furnished an engraving.
" These," said the engineer, pointing to the other side of the apartment, " are the boilers
where we heat our water to warm all the cells in the prison, as well as the chapel and
other offices. Tou observe four square boilers ranged in a row in this apartment, heated
by means of furnaces imderground, and there are the pipes conducting from them into the
main prison.
" The boiler on the left-hand side heats the A and E wing ; the one next to it heats the
juvenile wing, and a portion of the chapel and the reception cells. The adjoining one warms
the female wing and the other portion of the chapel. The boUer on the right-hand warms
the C and D wings.
The engineer called our attention to several flow-pipes, which run along each wing
in flues, connected with the ceUs in the corridors, and then flow into the basement ceUs.
From thence the return-pipes flow into a boiler supplied by the expansion cistern, six feet
above the level of the flow-pipe. " You observe," said he, " that cluster of four pipes
connected with the female and juvenile wings, chapel, and reception cells.
" We keep the fires burning night and day when the weather is cold, keeping the tem¬
perature up in the winter, which renders thesceUs very healthy, with a sufficient quantity
of warm air passing into them continuaUy from the flues, where the hot-water pipes are.
" Each of the cells has an extraction flue that conveys the impure air into a large flue on
the roof of each wing, and these large flues are connected with, and discharge themselves into,
the ventilating shaft."
The heating apparatus room is of considerable size, with a deep sunk passage in the
centre, where the stokers trim the fire, as seen in the engraving. It is lighted by two iron
grated windows on each side, and has a stone staircase leading down to the furnaces.
In the comer on the left-hand there is a large cistern containing hot water, to supply
the baths in the reception ward, and likewise for the baths given to the prisoners in the
various corridors, in winter once a month, in summer once a fortnight. It generaUy
contains about 500 gaUons, and is heated by means of steam conveyed from the steam
boiler in the ventilating shaft.
We thereupon went to the central hall, where we entered a small apartment at the end
of D wing, containing two large cisterns connected with the boilers in the furnace-room.
They answer two purposes—one of them fills the pipes with cold water, and the other
HOUSE GE COERECTIOH HOLLOWAY.
675
allows the water as it heats to expand. Two large flow-pipes are extended along the
centre of the apartment connected with the expansion cistern, and in addition to this, there
is a supply pipe to fill the cistern with water.
"We proceeded with the engineer to the base of the lofty ventilating shaft of the prison,
which adjoins the kitchen, and is situated at the angle of the C and D wings. " You see," said
the engineer, " this large mass of iron work, which is an iron funnel extending to the top of
the central tower. I shall teE you the use of this. In the summer time, when the
weather is hot, we are obliged to keep a large fire in the centre of the shaft to assist our
ventilation, as the air must be kept warmer in the shaft than the atmosphere passing
through the cells, as otherwise they would not be satisfactorily ventilated, and the air would
not pass properly through." "Within the iron funnel in the shaft, there are three large
square iron flues connected with the horizontal flues underground, for conveying the smoke
from different fireplaees, such as in the steward's ofSce, laundry, etc.
In this room we also observed two large steam boilers on a level with the floor, used
for cooking the prisoners' food, and likewise for heating the water in the cistern in the
furnace room to bathe the prisoners.
The engineer then conducted us to his workshop, situated in the basement of C wing
adjoining the carpenter's shop. The walls were decorated with a large assortment of iron
tools of various descriptions, used in operations over the prison, all carefully arranged.
At one end of the shop was an iron turning-lathe, and a bench with two iron vices
attached to it.
We passed on to the pumps worked by the tread-wheel. In a small recess connected
with the tread-wheel shed, we found two prisoners busy at work on a cross handle, assisting
the tread-wheel in pumping water, and likewise a large fly-wheel close to the wall, a shaft
being connected with it at one end, and an eccentric wheel at the other, with which the rods
of the pumps are connected. From the eccentric wheel are two iron arms coimected with
the shaft, and by this means the water is pumped and conveyed to cisterns on the top of
the entrance of the building, at an elevation of eighty-five feet from the groimd.
" We usually pump," said the engineer, " 1300 gallons per hour, wiüi one single strong
pump, taking an eighteen inch stroke. The pumps are situated in the well, 150 feet from
the surface of the ground. The well is 370 feet deep, but the water rises up within five feet
of the pump.
We were then introduced to the carpenter. He stated to us, " We have very seldom
good carpenters here ; I have at present two prisoners engaged with me in my shop. They
have been trained to this kind of work, but are not good workmen, and I employ them in
the general repairs of the prison, and in the houses of the chaplain and governor. We only
engage those men to work here who have been accustomed to this employment out of doors.
I and my assistants execute all the carpenter's work required in the prison.
*¡^* Visiting the Prisoners in their Cells.—We accompanied the chief warder to corridor
C, to visit several of the more remarkable of the various classes of prisoners confined there ;
so that we might have a more just and discriminating acquaintance with the special character
of Holloway Piison.
On entering one of the cells we saw a dark complexioned man of short stature, a Dutch
Jew. He had a broad face, and a brow of a peculiar form, sloping suddenly back, with
fuH dark eyes. He had been guilty of using threats, and did not find the necessary security
for his future good conduct. He told us he was born in Amsterdam, and was a cigar-maker
by trade. By his own confession, "he took drink—dat vas do reason he got into
trouble."
We went into another cell along with the governor, who was going his stated rounds
over the prison. We found here a robust, well-formed youth, of twenty-one years of age,
576
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
about five feet six in height, with a particularly finely formed countenance. On looking at
his card, we learned he was under confinement for picking pockets.
Gov. " This is one of the cleverest lads I have got in the prison," Turning to the pri¬
soner, he added, '* I am willing to take you by the hand and assist you, if you will
co-operate with me. Are you willing to go home to your friends ?"
Pm, (His rich dark eye glistening with interest). Yes, sir, I shall go home to New¬
castle, and leave London.
Oov. I will write to your friends, and tell them to take back their prodigal son. Per-
hans you will write yourself. Will you do so now ?
Pris. Yes, I will. '
Oov. (Turning to us and the chief warder). This young man will learn any trade with
the greatest expertness.
When the governor had retired, the prisoner informed us, in answer to our inquiries,
that he had been a thief for the past twelve years—had chiefiy been engaged in picking
pockets, and belonged to the cleverest class except those who frequent the banks. He is
remarkably expert in stealing from ladies' pockets. He was over in Paris twice, and had
made excursions to the leading towns in Scotland, where he had been very successful in
picking pockets. In Paris he found double trouble in stealing from ladies, as they have two
pockets, one on each side. He was in the habit of going to public assemblies in London, of
various kinds, as well as to churches, and committing depredations. He had once been
arrested at Calais, in company with two known pickpockets, and was sent over the English
channel as a suspicious character—his fare having been paid out of the money he had on his
person at the time of his arrest.
In another cell we found a modest-looking man, with reddish hair. He was rather
under the middle height, about thirty-five years of age, and confined for picking pockets.
He told us he had entered into crime when twelve or thirteen years of age. He chiefly lived
by picking pockets, and generally frequented Newington Causeway or the Borough, and went
to all the fairs, and to the west-end theatres.
In a cell adjoining we found a plain-looking man, about thirty years of age, who had
been imprisoned for stealing pewter pint-pots in the City, and was detected by the police
when endeavouring to sell them to a marine-store dealer. He told the chief warder it was
done to support his wife and family, who were in extreme want.
In another cell we saw a quiet-looking man, of forty years of age, sentenced to two
calendar months for the unlawful possession of two doormats. He had formerly been a brick¬
layer's labourer, and was employed in building the very prison in which he was confined.
Since that time he had fought as a pldier in the Crimea during the Russian war. He was
an Irishman, and belonged to Dublin.
We next visited several of the cells in corridor D, the only wing of the main prison
which remained to be visited.
In one of them we saw a stout-made young man, of short stature and dark complexion,
about twenty-one years of age, with nothing very striking in his appearance. He stood with
a piece of junk he had been picking in his hand. He had been stealing for the past five
years. Of late, he has chiefly rifled gentlemen's pockets of watches, etc. He had some¬
times succeeded in getting £50 at a time, and was most successful at fairs. He was a
hawker, and his father travels the country, selling hardware. He said he would willingly
work in any honest way if he had any one to assist him, but was not inclinea to go into a
reformatory.
He further added, in answer to the interrogatories of the chief warder, that he generally
went to work with a man, and sometimes a woman, who acted as a stall. He considered
that to take six watches, was a good day's work.
In one of the cells we saw a young man, of about twenty-one years of age, with a strange
HOUSE OF COERECTIOH, HOLLOWAY.
577
conical-shaped head, broad at the underface, and very narrow towards the top of the head.
The chief warder remarked to us that the prisoner was suffering from disease in his legs,
owing to a family complaint, and also by fast life. He is confined six calendar months for
stealing a handkerchief, and has been no less than fourteen times in Holloway Prison, and in
several other prisons besides.
On going into the next cell, we found another prisoner, aged about forty-five years, a cab¬
man, who told us a very doleful story. He had been intrusted with a chest of tea by some
party unknown to convey in his cab to a particular place in the metropolis. He supposes
the police were after the man who had hired him, as he made his escape immediately after he
had given the property into his custody. For the unlawful possession of this chest of
tea, he had received a sentence of twelve months' imprisonment with hard labour. He has
a wife and family, for whom he appeared to be much concerned.
In one of the cells we saw a remarkably good-looking, fresh-complexioned boy, of about
seventeen years of age, very handsome, and apparently very intelligent. The governor re¬
marked that, when genteelly dressed, he might pass for a nobleman's son. The chief warder
stated he had been several times in prison. On this occasion he was imprisoned eighteen
calendar months for picking pockets. He had at one time been confined in West¬
minster Bridewell for two months, and was afterwards removed to a reformatory at Eeigate
for two years. He served his time there, and got a situation in one of the tel^raph offices
in the metropolis, where he remained for two months. He said that he had left of his own
accord, as he was about to be punished for making a mistake in a message. He got another
situation, and remained there two or three weeks, when he rejoined his old companions in
Keate Street, Spitalfields. Since then he has been six times in prison. The governor in¬
formed us that the authorities of the prison had taken the greatest interest in this boy, but
he was a&aid it was all in vain. The governor asked him if he would go to a reformatory
on being released from prison, but he did not relish this proposal.
Gov. If I had a house adjoining the prison where I could learn this boy a trade, and
have him under my eye for five years, he would become a useful member of society ; but
leave him to his old companions, and he will one day be transported.
The boy was meantime smiling in his usual light-hearted, thoughtless manner.
Gov, Have you any friends to take an interest in you ?
jPris. I don't know, sir. I have got no father. My mother lives at Bethnal Green, and
is a nurse. I have not seen he]?*for two years.
This poor lad is a remarkably fair specimen of many others who have a good disposition,
but are led thoughtlessly astray by those bad associates and pernicious infiuences which
abound in our great metropolis.
Before leaving corridor D, we were very desirous to see two other prisoners, remarkably
expert thieves, the one a lobby-sneak, and the other a burglar ; but they were not then in
their cells. We accompanied the chief warder to his office, where they were shortly after¬
wards introduced to us.
The first was a middle-sized man, of about thirty-five years of age, with pale face, smgll
gray eyes, and gentle manner. In answer to the interrogatories of the chief warder, he
stated that bis parents were respectable people, residing in the Borough. He began his
criminal career by stealing from his mother's tiU, and had ran away from school, and left
his home at about ten years of age. In the course of his. life he had been engaged in two
burglaries, and had slipped into houses and committed felonies innumerable times—he could
not teU how many. He had also been a good pickpocket in his day, but had now lost the
nerve. He was once transported, and had been confined in prison about seventeen years
altogether.
He told us he had never been rogue and fool enough to get married. To use his own
words, " I should have considered myself a fool if I had married one of my own class of
678
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON".
people, because I knew very well in my own mind, or by experience, that when I got into
trouble, she would be playing the harlot with some one else, and I was never rogue enough
to take an inoffensive female from her home and deceive her with professing what I never
was or intended to be."
He added, " I often committed my felonies by means of false keys, and by entering fan¬
lights and by the windows at the back of the house. I have taken a great quantity of plate
by sneaking in the areas."
When he got into prison on this occasion he was out begging. The steel had been taken
out of him, and he was- hard up.
The other prisoner brought into the chief warder's office was a smart, vigorous, intelli¬
gent young man, of about five feet seven inches in height, with a fine broad brow and weU-
formed countenance. He had a keen, penetrating eye, which twinkled with humour and
was very frank and communicative.
He informed us he was bom in Scotland, the son of Scotch parents. He had engaged in
almost every kind of felony, and had committed many housebreakings and burglaries. He
did not use the mask in his burglaries, and considered they were only apprentice hoys at
their work who did so. He was exceedingly nimble, and could climb to a housetop by the
spout as quickly as a person could go up a stair.
On one occasion he went out at midnight, with other four companions, to plunder a
jeweller's shop in the metropolis. They were detected by a policeman, who sprung his
rattle, when other officers came up. Two of his pals straggled with the former and nearly
küled him ; he and another burglar ran away in the direction of the Thames. On that
winter evening, being hotly pursued, he swam across the river with his clothes on. He
stated that he had been a thief for the past nine years, being mostly engaged in bur¬
glary, and generally worked in the interior of the house. He " put up " the burglaries he
committed, and sometimes cried with vexation tül he cleared his way through obstacles. He
had been a sad rake among the girls, and before his arrest had kept two females. He has
frequently seen large advertisements over the metropolis offering a reward for the detection
of burglaries he had committed, hut which could not he traced to him.
He said he had been very lucky for a considerable time, and had made the City ring with
his exploits. He believed that during the past eighteen months he had got about £1500 by
his burglaries, but had gambled it away and wasted it.
*#* The Juvenile Wing of the Prison is situated to the left of the reception ward, and is
reserved exclusively for young male offenders from seventeen years of age and downwards.
On entering the corridor, we were introduced to Mr. White, one of the warders, who
stated :—" At present we have nineteen juveniles under seventeen years of age. Our pri¬
soners here are under the same routine of prison discipline as in the other corridors. The
boys under fourteen years of age are exempted from hard labour by Act of Parliament. From
the nature of their offence, they are sometimes sentenced to it, as, for example, in picking
pockets, but with prisoners of those tender years it is not carried into effect. Instead of
working at the treadwheel, they are employed picking oakum, or some other occupation.
In the juvenile wing there are three reception cells and a bath-room, with one hath of
smaller dimensions than those in the adult reception ward, and also a store of prison cloth¬
ing for juveniles, carefully arranged, along with a store-room containing the prisoners' own
clothing.
There is a staircase leading from the reception ward to a small lobby entering into the
corridor. On the right side of it are four small wooden compartments, where the friends and
relatives of the juveniles visit them. These are covered over on the top with a wire-screen,
similar to what wo found in the adult branch of the prison. There is a door in the corridor
by which the prisoners are introduced to similar compartments on the other side of the visit-
CONDEMNED GELL. NEWGATE,
HOUSE OP COREECÏTON, HOLLOWAY.
579
ing-room, with another door in the centre, where a warder usually patrols during the time
of the interview.
There are six refractory cells in this wing of the prison, but at the time of our visit there
were no prisoners confined in them. " It rarely happens," said Mr. White, " we have any
delinquents in custody." There are few punishments inflicted in this prison, yet the disci¬
pline is strictly maintained.
Adjoining these dark cells there is a bath-room, containing two other baths for the use of
the juvenile prisoners.
While we visited this corridor, which is similar in form and dimensions to the others,
several boys were engaged sweeping and cleaning the asphalt floors. Some of the older
lads were at treadwheel labour, and others were picking oakum and plaiting bass in their
cells. The utmost silence prevailed over all the wards, broken only by the occasional tread
of a warder proceeding along one of the galleries, and the noise of the cleaners in the base¬
ment of the corridor as they plied their brushes and cocoa-nut husk rubbers on the floor.
We visited several of the cells along with the governor, who was then going his usual
rounds over the prison, and found several boys picking oakum. We inspected them on a
subsequent occasion with Mr. Grant, the reception warder of the adult prison, and found
ihem similarly occupied. The most of them appeared to be Irish Cockneys—many of them
of the ordinary felon character. Some of them were smart and intelligent ; others appeared
to be dull and very ignorant.
Two of these juveniles were afterwards ushered into the governor's office, the one a clever
sneak, and the other an exceedingly adroit pickpocket.
The former was a little fair-complexioned Irish lad of about sisteen years of age, with
good features. He stood before the governor with his hands behind his back, and his head
leaning to one side in a timid manner. In answer to various interrogatories, he stated that his
mother was dead, and his mother-in-law, who is addicted to dissipated habits, ill-treated
him. He confessed he had commenced to steal when he was eleven years of age, and had
been six times in prison. He did not pick pockets, but stole from shops along with a com¬
panion. He generally went in and the other boy remained without. He thought it was
safer for him to go in, and hand the article stolen to the boy at the door, who ran off with
it. If he was caught there would be nothing found upon him, and he had a better chance of
escaping. He lived in Keate Street, Spitalfields. On one occasion he stole a pair of boots, on
another he took a ham, then a bundle of cigars, after this a box of revolvers, etc., and was
sentenced to various terms of imprisonment.
The other boy was also of Irish extraction. He was a flrm-made little fellow of dark
complexion, with a fine dark eye, which occasionally shone with brilliancy. He is
reputed to be one of the cleverest young pickpockets in London. He informed us he was
fifteen years of age, and had one brother and two sisters in Australia, and three sisters
living at home, who are all well behaved. He stated he had been led into crime by bad
boys, and had now been thieving for four years and a-half. He lived at Keate Street, with a
number of other lads like himself. In particular, he mentioned one of the name of Malony, a
very expert thief, who could pick pockets very dexterously on the fly, i. e. when the parties
were walking along the street.
He had often been arrested for attempts at picking pockets, but had only been once con¬
victed, and was sent to Wandsworth. When at large he chiefly worked at picking-pockets in
the City, but did not consider it to be so easy as in Middlesex. Before he came to prison,
he sometimes went to Oxford Street, where many ladies call with carriages at the shops.
He informed us he ' had sometimes been so successful as to take nine or ten purses in one
day. Many fashionably dressed ladies do not carry any money in their pocket, while plain
country people have often a well filled purse.
During his recital, the little felon knit his brow and firmed his lip, and occasionally
SSO
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
epokc with his eyes shut. Sometimes his countenance shone with animation, and in other
moods he looked like a simple country boy. He appeared to be a lad of superior ability.
ordinauy distribution of a peisonee's time.
Summer,
from
to
Winter,
from
to
5
45
. 6
45
— a. m. Rise ; open ventilator, and spread bedding, and wash.
6
0
7
20 ..
. 7
0
7
30 „ Employment.
7
20
8
10 ..
, 7
30
8
J Q j Breakfast, and prepare school lessons, clean cell, and make-
" i up bed.
8
10
9
0 .
. 8
10
9
0 „ Chapel.
Ü
0
12
45 .
. 9
0
12
45 p. m. Exercise, employment, school, etc.
la
45
2
0 ..
. 12
45
2
0 „ Dinner, and prepare school lessons.
2
0
5
45 .
. 2
0
6
45 „ Employment and school.
5
45
6
30 .
. 6
45
7
30 „ Supper, and work in cell.
6
30
8
0 .
. 7
30
8
0 „ Employment in cell.
8
0
8
45 ..
. S
0
8
45 „ Sweep cell, wash, read or write, and prepare school lessons.
8
45
9
0 .
. 8
45
9
0 „ Sling hammock ; go to bed.
On Sundays.
6
45
a. m. Bise.
2 0 ... to 3 0 P.M. Exercise.
8
0
.
Breakfast.
3 0 „ ChapeL
9
0
)}
Exercise.
5 30 Supper.
10
45
...
...
. ...
>>
Chapel.
8 0 „ Bed.
1
0
p. M. Dinner.
1" iv. y.
The Female House of Gorrection, Holloway.
We accompanied the governor to the female prison, which is situated opposite to the juvenile
wing, and were introduced to the matron, and entered a small lobby on the ground floor
beneath the archway connected with the main prison. On our right hand is a smaR room
neatly furnished for the use of the laundry warder, with a bedroom adjoining. In the
lobby are two bells, one communicating with the door on the exterior, and the other being
a night-beU connected with the rooms of the female ofiicers of the prison.
At this time several female prisoners came downstairs from the corridor above, with
the shining tins for dinner to be conveyed to the kitchen.
*#* Reception Ward.—Leaving the lobby, we descend foui- stone steps into the reception
ward on the basement. The central floor is laid with asphalt, with a narrow stripe of pave¬
ment on each side, adjoining the cells.
On the right are the matron's apartments, consisting of a kitchen and bedroom. On the
left is a bath-room containing two baths and a sink, also a dressing-room, somewhat similar
to those in the adult prison. There are three- reception cells in this ward.
At the extremity of the reception ward are two dark cells, but no prisoners were confined
in them at the time of our visit. They are similar to those in the main prison, and are
furnished in a similar manner.
We then passed into the store-room containing iī own together with
an assortment of prison dress. The prisoners' own clothing was laid in racks along the wall
in the interior of the apartment, and the prison garments were assorted on shelves.
The female prison clothing in Holloway Prison consists of three wincey petticoats in
winter, and two in summer ; a blue gown, a checked apron, a blue checked neckerchief, a
small printed pocket handkerchief, and a white linen cap. Likewise a pair of blue worsted
stockings, and a thick substantial shawl, both knitted by the female prisoners. The bedding
18 the same as in the other corridors.
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, HOLLOWAT.
581
The matron informed us, "Thereis only a small portion of the bundles of clothes fumi¬
gated; belonging chiefly to the lowest class, such as vagrants and prostitutes, many of
them of Irish extraction."
"We saw a considerable number of bundles of more elegant appearance on the shelves.
The matron stated that, at present there is a larger number of fashionable pickpockets and
shoplifters in the female prison than she has ever previously known. " We generally have
some showy pickpockets," she added, " but never so large a number. Their ages vary
from twenty to thirty-flve years of age—seldom above thirty-flve.
As we passed along the ward, from the window of the matron's room we saw a large
company of the female prisoners in the exercising ground, their heads being covered with their
hooded shawls. They moved along with active step, under the charge of a female officer.
Leaving the reception ward, we went to the corridor above, where a very animated scene
presented itself to our view. A large number of the female prisoners were exercising
around the galleries under the inspection of the female chief warder, who was stationed on a
bridge across the first gallery, while a female warder was stationed on a bridge in the higher
gallery. After exercising for some time they returned to their various cells.
The female warders were attired in a brown dress, with a dark head-dress.
The chief warder informed us the first gallery contains the prisoners tried at the Central
Criminal Court, convicted of the most heinous offences, and in the second gallery are dis¬
orderly prisoners and others tried at the Summary Courts.
On the first day of our visit the prisoners were occupied in the following employments :—
Picking oakum, 12; at needle-work, 14 ; in the laundry, 8 ; engaged in general cleaning, 6 ;
nursing, 2 ; sick in cells, 2 ; in infirmary, 4 ; in reception ward, 3 ; knitting caps and
stockings, 15 ; in all 66 prisoners.
Laundry.—This is a large, well-aired, commodious apartment. At a large table in
the centre of the room, several female prisoners were actively engaged in folding up a
quantity of female underclothing, while some bundles were piled on the table beside them.
There was another table at the left side of the room, on which a portion of the clothes lay
folded, others of the prisoners were busy mangling. There is a large copper at the extremity
of the laundry, in which the clothes are boiled. It is supplied with steam by a large cistern
above it. There is also a screen in which the linen is laid out to dry.
We noticed several large bundles containing male prisoners' clean clothing ready for use.
Adjoining the laundry is a drying-room, furnished with six clothes horses, which can
be drawn out and into a recess, where the wet clothes are exposed to the action of heated
air. Two of the prisoners were ironing white linen.
We observed here a pretty young woman—an expert and fashionable pickpocket. She
had a very fine face and figure, and her bright eyes were fringed with long black eyelashes.
We learned from the chief warder that she cohabits witn a low fellow in the City, and has
been frequently in confinement charged with picking pockets. She was handsomely dressed
when brought to the prison.
" You see that prisoner," said the chief warder, referring to a plain-looking, middle-aged
woman, who was sitting beside the mangle, " she is also an expert pickpocket, and an old
offender."
The prisoners employed in the laundry are allowed a pint of beer every day, of which
they were partaking at the time we entered.
In the proximity of the laundry are eight washing boxes, supplied with hot and cold
water by means of taps, where some of the female prisoners were busy washing.
Meantime several male prisoners came in escorted by a warder (while the females had
for a short time retired), and earned off several large bundles of white linen to the male
prison.
582
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
The female prisoners in the laundry wash the clothing for all the branches of the prison.
*#* The School.—The female classes are convened in a large comfortable apartment at
the extremity of the corridor on the first gallery. On the walls are suspended a map of
the two hemispheres, and another of England, along with a number of pictorial illustra¬
tions of Scripture subjects. A black-board is set on a stand. The teacher, an active
intelligent lady, stood in front of the class, which was ranged on a deal form in front of her.
There were from twelve to fifteen females present in the adult class at the time we visited
them, consisting chiefly of fashionable pickpockets and shop-lifters. Their ages averaged
from seventeen to thirty-five. Some of them were good-looking, and apparently modest—
one or two had a superior air about them. One prisoner in particular, a tall, fair
complexioned, handsome woman — a fashionable pickpocket — had a striking and com¬
manding appearance, even in her felon garb. She was brought to the prison in a rich
black dress with three flounces, and a handsome cloth cloak, an elegant bonnet beautifully
trimmed, and boots with military heels. Her petticoats were also of the best materials-
" She was dressed and garnished with jewellery," said the teacher, " like one of the finest
ladies in the land, and from her appearance and manner no one would have suspected her
real character." She resided at Kensington with a worthless character, and hired an old
woman to keep her child at the rate of £ 1 a week." A young woman of about twenty-two years
of age, with a firesh, blooming complexion, also a pickpocket, sat by her side ; while her eye
drooped on her book, her countenance was lit up by a beautiful expression, but on looking
up, as she did occasionally, she appeared less interesting. Another young woman, a pick¬
pocket, of about nineteen years, sat beside them, with a very ingenuous appearance. On
the matron interrogating her as to the particular nature of her offence, she burst into tears.
A good-looking young woman of about twenty-four years of ^e, who had been detected
picking pockets sat opposite to us. She had formerly been a barmaid in the city and had
been led astray by bad company. A plain-looking, dissipated woman sat next her, who
had led a very wild and romantic career in the Metropolis, as the paramoiir of a daring
burglar. She stiU cohabits with him, and now picks up a base livelihood by roaming the
west end at midnight, and plundering drunken men. Another woman, respectable-looking,
of about thirty years of age, who had been guilty of forging a bank cheque, sat at the
farther end of the class. Some of them were reading attentively, others with their slates on
their knee, and a few knitting stockings.
The teacher was busy when we entered with the reception warder, explaining the three
Kingdoms of Nature to the class. "We did not remain long on this occasion.
On a subsequent day we visited the class with the matron, which was then engaged with
the Bible lesson. Most of the prisoners read very fluently and correctly, and conducted
themselves with great propriety of demeanour. They afterwards clustered around the map
of England, alongside of their amiable teacher, and appeared to take great interest in their
geography lesson.
After the class had been dismissed, and the prisoners had retii-ed to their several cells,
the teacher gave us the following information :—
" There are two classes here. One of them is attended by those learning the elements
of reading and writing. There are about twelve pupils attending this class, their ages
averaging from fifteen to forty. Some of them leam very rapidly, but others are very obtuse.
There are several with me at present who have learned to read with tolerable ease in the
course of six months, and are able to write a letter to their friends. The younger prisoners
are the most proficient scholars. This class is held four times a-week.
" The other class consists of adults, who are taught reading, writing, and arithmetic,
geography, and general information. In age they vary from twenty to forty-five. These
often make great progress. This class is also held four times a week.
HOUSE OF COEEECTION, HOLLOWAT.
583
"■ On Saturday we have a class for the women attending the laundry. The school is
generally appreciated by the prisoners.
" There is also a circulating hhrary belonging to the prison. The books are distributed
once a-week in the various cells, and oftener if it is considered proper.
" Some well educated female prisoners read out of the library who do not attend the
classes. There are seldom so many of this superior order in the prison that I could muster
a class. They generally avail themselves of the use of the circulating library, and write
exercises on their slate in English composition."
*#* The Outer Watchman.—One morning we visited the prison about half-past six
o'clock. It was then dusk, and the crescent moon was nearly obscured by a cloudy sky, and
scarcely a star was visible. As we approached Holloway Prison we saw the long windows
at the extremities of the adjacent corridors dimly lighted, while the tapering dark tower
stood out in dark profile against the dull gray sky. The great Metropolis stretched around
to the south, wrapt in mist, and the noise of its busy traffic which used to break on our
ear like the roar of the restless ocean, had not yet been awakened from the gloom of night.
We only heard the occasional roll of a vehicle passing in the distance, the shrill call of a
railway whistle summoning the lieges to an early train, and the solemn chime of the clocks
in the neighbouring church steeples as they announced in the quiet sombre air the flight of
winged time.
On knocking at the outer gate we were admitted hy the warder within the waUs of the
prison. Shortly after we heard the bell in the interior of the prison summoning the prisoners
to their daily labour.
As we wandered about the courtyard, the outer watchman hove in sight with lighted
lantern in hand, as he was proceeding on duty around the inner waUs. We accompanied
him in one of his rounds, until we reached the back of the prison, when he flashed his hull's
eye on our note-book, and gave us the following information :—
" 1 commence duty," he said, " at nine o'clock in the evening. It is my duty to inspect
all external doors, etc., and to see that articles are not thrown over the walls hy persons
from without. 1 go round with my Hghted lantern in hand to see that aU is right, and to
ascertain that no prisoner has a light in his cell, and that there is no communication from
without.
" 1 not only keep watch without, but enter the interior of the prison, and have a master-
key which opens the external doors. 1 frequently go into the interior and communicate
with the watchman within, and inform him if all is right. Should 1 observe a light in any
of the cells, 1 proceed at once to the interior to flnd out the cause. It may he that the chief
warder has visited some of them. He is called up by the inner watchmen when any of
the men are sick.
"1 light the kitchen flre between one and two o'clock, and get the steam up, and
attend to it afterwards. I remain till the gruel is cooked, when 1 proceed to my work
outside. 1 leave duty about a quarter past seven o'clock in the morning, when the warders
assemble to enter on their various duties for the day.
JEm/ployment of Prisoners.—The following is a state of the various employments in
which the prisoners were engaged on one of the days we visited the prison :—
Employments. Men. Boys. Females. Total.
Mat-making . . . 70
Balling, plaiting, etc. . . 7 . . 5 12
Treadwheel .... 47 .. 5 52
Carry forward 124 . .10 . . 134
684
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON,
Brought up
Picking oakum
Cleaning
Extra ditto, oakum, etc.
Window cleaning .
Whitewashing
Wood chopping
Cutting junk, and packin
Gardeners
Smiths and Stokers
Cooks . . . .
Carpenters .
Coopers
Brushmakers
Basketmakers
Bookbinders
Painters and Glaziers .
Bricklayers
Tailors
Shoemakers
Barbers
Needlework
Knitting
Washing
Excused and Sick
Infirmary
Nurses
Dark punishment cells
Light cell
Clerks, etc. .
Picking hair, etc. .
Total
Men.
124
2
4
15
2
4
4
20 .
7
5
2
1
1
1
2
2
2
19
11
2
4
6
1
2
2
268
Boys.
10
1
1
4
2
Females.
9
8
Total.
134
16
14
8
6
3
2
23
66
357
LIST OF THE DIETAEY FOE PETSONEES AT HOLLOWAY PEISON.
Approved hy the Secretary of State, 24iÄ April, 1850.
CLASS I.
Convicted prisoners confined for any term not exceeding seven days :—
Males. Females.
Breakfast . Oatmeal gruel . 1 pint. Breakfast . Oatmeal gruel
Dinner . Bread . . 1 lb. Dinner . Bread
Supper . Oatmeal gruel . 1 pint. Supper . Oatmeal gruel
CLASS II.
Convicted prisoners for any term exceeding seven days, and not exceeding twenty one days :
Breakfast
Dinner
Supper
Males.
Oatmeal gruel
Bread
Bread
Oatmeal gruel
Bread
1 pint.
6 oz.
12 oz.
1 pint.
6 oz.
Breakfast
Dinner
Supper
Females.
Oatmeal gruel
Bread .
Bread .
Oatmeal gruel
Bread .
1 pint.
1 lb.
1 pint.
1 pint.
6 oz.
6 oz.
1 pint.
6 oz.
Prisoners of this class, employed at hard labour, to have in addition 1 pint of soup per week.
HOUSE GE CORRECTION. HOLLOWAT.
585
CLASS III.
Convicted priBoneva employed at hard labour, for terms exceeding twenty-one days, but not more than
six weeks ; and convicted prisoners not employed at hard labour, for terms exceeding twenty-one
days, but not more than four months :—
Males.
Breakfast . Oatmeal gruel
„ Bread .
Wednesday and Friday.
Dinner . Soup
,, Bread .
Tuesday and Sunday.
Dinner . Cooked meat, with¬
out bone .
„ Bread .
„ Potatoes
Monday, Thursday, and Satwrday.
Dinner . Bread .
„ Potatoes
(or 1 pint of gruel when potatoes cannot be
obtained.)
Supper, same as breakfast.
1 pitit-
6 oz.
1 pint.
1 oz.
3 oz.
8 oz.
è lb.
8 oz.
lib.
Females.
Breakfast . Oatmeal gruel
„ . Bread
Wednesday and Friday.
Dinner . Soup
„ Bread .
Tuesday and Sunday.
Dinner . Cooked meat, with¬
out bone .
,, Bread .
„ . Potatoes
Monday, Thursday, and Saturday.
Dinner . Bread . . 6 oz.
„ Potatoes . . 1 lb.
(or 1 pint of gruel when potatoes carmot be
obtained.)
Supper, same as breakfast.
1 piut.
6 oz.
1 pint.
6 oz.
3 oz.
6 oz.
è lb.
CLASS IV.
Convicted prisoners employed at hard labour for terms exceeding six weeks, but not more than four
months ; and convicted prisoners not employed at hard labour, for terms exceeding four months :—
Males.
Breakfast . Oatmeal gruel . 1 pint.
,, Bread . . 8 oz.
Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
Dinner . Cooked meat with¬
out bone . . 3 oz.
„ Potatoes . . i lb.
„ Bread ■ . . 8 oz.
Monday, Wednesday, end Friday, r
Dinner . Soup ... 1 pint.
„ Bread . . • 8 oz.
Supper, same as breakfast.
Females.
Breakfast . Oatmeal gruel . 1 pint.
„ Bread . . 6 oz.
Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
Dinner . Cooked meat, with¬
out bone . 3 oz.
„ Potatoes . . ^ lb.
,, Bread . 6 oz.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Dinner . Soup ... 1 pint-
„ Bread . . . 6 oz-
Supper, same as breakfast.
CLASS V.
Convicted prisoners employed at hard labour for terms exceeding four months :—
Males.
Females.
Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, anc
Saturday.
Breakfast .
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
Breakfast
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
Bread .
8 oz.
Bread .
6 oz.
Dinner
Cooked meat, with¬
Dinner
Cooked meat with
out bone .
4 oz.
out bone .
3 oz.
99
Potatoes
1 lb.
Potatoes
è lb.
))
Bread .
8 oz.
»
Bread
6 OK.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Breakfast .
Cocoa .
1 pint.
Breakfast
Cocoa
1 pin*
made of f
oz. of flaked cocoa, or cocoa nibs.
made of ;
oz. of flaked cocoa, or cocoa niba.
sweetened with J oz of molasses or sugar.
sweetened with f oz. of molasses
or sugar.
99
Bread .
8 oz.
99
Bread
6 oz.
Dinner
Soup
1 pint.
Dinner
Soup .
1 pint.
Potatoes
1 lb.
99
Potatoes
i lb.
1»
Bread .
8 oz.
99
Bread .
6 oz.
Supper
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
Supper
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
»>
Bread .
8 oz.
3«
Bread .
. 6 oz.
43
686
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
CLASS VI.
Prisoners sentenced by court to solitary confinement :—
Males.
The ordinary diet of their respective classes.
Females.
The ordinary diet of their respective classes.
CLASS VII.
Prisoners for examination before trial, and misdemeanants of the first division, who do not maintain
themselves :—
Males.
The same as Class IV.
Males.
The same as Class IV.
CLASS VIII.
Destitute debtors ;—
Females.
Tlie same as Class IV.
Females.
The same as Class IV.
CLASS IX.
Prisoners under punishment for Prison oflenees for terms not exceeding three days
1 lb. Bread per diem.
Prisoners in close confinement for prison offences, under the provision of the 42nd Section of the
JaU Act :—
Males.
Breakfast
»»
Dinner
Supper
Gruel .
Bread .
Bread .
Gruel .
Bread .
1 pint.
8 oz.
8 oz.
1 pint.
8 oz.
Breakfast
ÎJ
Dinner
Supper
Females.
Gruel .
Bread .
Bread .
Gruel .
Bread .
1 pint.
6 oz.
6 oz.
1 pint.
6 oz.
JVbfe—The soup to contain, per pint, 3 oz. of cooked meat, without bone, 3 oz. of potatoes, 1 oz. of
barley, rice, or oatmeal, and 1 oz. of onions or leeks, witli pepper and salt.
The gruel to contain 1^ oz. of oatmeal per pint, when made in quantities exceeding fifty pints ; and
2 oz. of oatmeal per pint when made in less quantities.
The gruel on alternate days to be sweetened with f oz. of molasses or sugar to each pint, or seasoned
with salt.
Boys under fourteen years of age to be placed on the same diet as females.
EETUliN SUOWING THE AVEEAGE EXPENSES OF HOLLOWAT PEISON FOE SEVEN TEAES, AND FOB THE
LAST TWO TEAES.
Average for the
last Seven Years,
and Daily Average
for Seven Years.
Average for the
last Two Years,
and Daily Average
for Two Years.
Daily average number of prisoners
338
332
Total cost of ordinary and extra diet, clothing, and beddiag
Ditto per head, per annum
Ditto ditto for a week
Ditto fuel, gas, cleaning materials, furniture, books,stationery, I
prisoners on disci arge, and other sundries ... y
Ditto per head, per annum
Ditto ditto for a week
Ditto officers salary and uniforms
Ditto ditto per head, per annum
Ditto ditto per week ...
Ditto for new buildings, additions, alterations, etc.
Ditto ditto per heaa, per annum
Ditto ditto per week
Total expenditure for seven years
Ditto ditto of prisoners per head per annum for seven years..
Expenditure of prisoner per head, per week
£ s. d.
2625 6 3
7 15 4
0 2 llf
1305 6 0
3 17 23
0 1 5|
3476 14 2
10 5 8i
0 3 Hi
319 8 11
0 18 lOf
0 0 4i
£ s d.
2433 1 8
7 6 73
0 2 93
1082 8 2
3 5 2
0 13
3676 19 7
11 1 6
0 4 3
175 11 4
0 10 63
0 0 2i
£7750 1 3
22 18 7
0 8 93
7390 13 13
22 5 2i
0 8 6è
HOUSE GE COERECTIOH, HOLLOWAY.
687
No. of days.
2792
1532
866
2517
448
17
56
84
1036
30
84
179
58
70
252
1815
1820
eetuen showing the time and vax.tje oe male peisonees' laboub.
Bate.
8. d,
2 0
2 0
2 0
2 0
1 0
2 0
2 0
Trade.
Tailors
Shoemakers
Carpenters
Smiths
Stokers
Turners
Painters
Bricklayers
Washers
Brushmakers
Basketmakers
Bookbinders
Tinmen
Coopers
Woodehoppers
Gardeners ...
Cooks
Total
Value.
3
0
0
0
3
0
0
3
3
The average daily consumption of water is one tank of 3500 gallons, which is the
price charged by the New River Company 7s. Qd. per tank would amount to
£
8.
d.
279
4
0
153
4
0
86
12
2
251
14
10
22
8
0
1
14
0
5
12
0
8
8
0
64
7
0
3
0
0
8
8
0
17
18
0
3
12
6
7
0
0
12
12
0
113
9
0
113
15
0
£1152 18
6
136 17 6
£1289 16 0
Note.—There has been £69 received since. It is a return for mangold-wurzel, grown on the ground,
paid since into the Chamber.
bethen showing the talhe op the woez peepoemed bt pemale peisonees.
Articles of elothing made for the use of the prisoners
„ M repaired „
Washing 112,345 garments, or 5617 score, at Is. per score ...
Total amount of male prisoners' labour
„ female „
Total
Total
Total expenses of prison
n receipts of moneys for prison labour, etc. ...
Cost to City
Deduct estimated value of Prisoners' labour
Net total cost
£37 17 5
73 2 4
280 17 3
£391 17 0
£1289 16 0
391 17 0
£1681 13 0
£8092 19 2
3085 16 9
£5007 2 5
1681 13 0
£3325 9 5
588
the great world of london.
CIIAMBEELAIN'S GATE—A MOST MISERABLE DrNOEON EEBUILT BY EICHABD WHITTINGTOH,
AND CALLED BY HIM NEW GATE.
{From an old engraving.l
deTentional prisons.
H i.
NEWGATE JAIL.
Mr. Hepworth Dixon, in his excellent work on the prisons of London, observes, with
regard to Newgate, " that it is massive, dark, and solemn, arrests the eye and holds it."
He farther adds, " a stranger in the capital would fix on it at a glance, for it is one of the
half dozen buildings, in this wilderness of bricks and mortar, which have a character ; of aU
the London prisons, except the Tower, it alone has an imposing aspect."
In its strong and impressive architecture, as well as in its own eventful history, it rises
in stern grandeur above all the other prisons in England. Our readers will pardon us in
these circumstances, taking a glance into the chronicles of London, not only to learn the
past reminiscences connected with Newgate, but also to become acquainted with the prisons
of London in bygone times
Maitland states that the original Old Bailey Prison got the name of Newgate, as it was
erected in the reign of Henry the First, several hundred years after the four original gates
of the city.
It is an interesting circumstance that it should have been erected by the famous Richard
Whittington, Lord Mayor of London. Stow records " it was built by an Act of Parliament
granted by Henry the Sixth to John Coventre, Jenken Carpenter, and William Grove,
executors to Richard Whittington, to re-edify the jail of Newgate, which they did with his
goods."
NEWGATE JAIL.
589
It was the common jail for the county of Middlesex, but was not so large and commo¬
dious as the present building. It was situated on the north side of Newgate Street, with
its front looking down the Old Bailey instead of being in a line with it as now. The edifice
was of an ornamental style, similar to a triumphal entrance to a capital, crowned with battle-
nients and towers, and adorned with statues, having a wide arch in the centre for carriages,
similar to Temple Bar, with a postern in the north side for foot passengers, as seen in the
engraving.
This old jail was gutted by the great fire of London in 1666, which extended from
Billingsgate to St. Dunstan's Church, near Temple Bar, and destroyed above 12,000 houses,
the damage being estimated at ten millions. As most of those houses were built of wood,
they were burned down to the ground; but the walls of Old Newgate being of solid granite
survived that catastrophe. The building was afterwards repaired in the year 1672.
In early times Newgate, as well as the other jails in England and the Continent, was in
a deplorable condition. In the words of John Howard, " the prisoners were kept in close
rooms, cells, and clammy dungeons 14 or 15 hours dut of the 24. The floors of some of
those caverns were very damp—^in some of them there was an inch or two of water, and
straw, or miserable bedding, was laid on the floors. There were seldom any bedsteads in
them, and the air was offensive beyond expression." Howard farther observes, " my readers
wiU judge of the malignity of the air when I assure them that my clothes were, in my first
journeys, so offensive, that, when in a post-chaise, I could not bear the windows drawn up,
and was therefore obliged to travel commonly on horseback. The leaves of my memoran¬
dum book were so tainted that I could not use it till after spreading it an hour or two before
the fire. I did not wonder that in these journeys my jailers made excuses, and did not go
with me into the felons' wards."
JaU fever was then very prevalent, in consequence of cleanliness and ventilation being
generally neglected. Howard observes: "From my own observations in 1773, 1774, and
1775, I was fiilly convinced that more prisoners were destroyed by it than were put to death
by all the public executions in the kingdom." He farther observes, "A cruel custom
obtains in most of the jails, which is that of the prisoner demanding of the new comer,
garnish, footing, or, as it is called in some London gaols, ' chummage.' ' Pay or strip,' are
the fatal words. I say fatal, for they are so to some who, having no money, are obliged to
give up part of their scanty apparel. If they have no bedding or straw to lie on, they con¬
tract diseases which often prove mortal."
At this time criminals were treated with far greater severity than in our day ; and despe¬
rate crimes were much more frequent. Many of the prisoners before trial, as well as after
sentence, were loaded with heavy irons by night and day, against which Howard protested.
Townsend says: "In the early part of my time, such as from 1781 to 1787, where one
prisoner is convicted now, I am positively convinced there were five then. We never had
an execution wherein we did not grace that unfortunate gibbet with ten, twelve, or more
persons ; and on one occasion I saw forty at once. But this unfortunate slaughter did no
good at all. The more hangings there were, the more hardened and desperate the criminals
became."
Highway robberies were then rife on Hounslow Heath, Blackheath, Finchley Common,
"Wimbledon Common, and on the Romford Road. Townsend states : " I have been in Bow
Street in the morning, and while I was leaning over the desk heard three or four people
come in and say, 'I was robbed by two highwaymen in such a place: I was plundered by a
single highwayman in such a place.' By means of the horse patrol which Sir Richard Fort
planned, people now travel safely."
The rookeries of thieves in Saint Giles, Westminster, and in the Old Mint, in the
Borough, were in their glory about the beginning of the 18th century, when Jack Sheppard
and Jonathan Wüd performed their notable exploits. Toward the end of that century, at
590
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDOH.
the timo Howard lived, robberies had been considerably checked, yet numerous executions
took place at Tyburn, at the angle of Oxford Street and the Edgeware Road, near to where
the Marble Arch, Hyde Park, now stands-
The low scum of the citizens, in those days, were regaled with those gloomy exhibitions ;
and at the peal of the bell of St. Sepulchre's Church, assembled around Newgate, from the
slums and disreputable localities of the city, and accompanied the cart conveying the crimi¬
nals to Tyburn on its dismal procession along the Tyburn Road, now transformed into
Oxford Street. On certain occasions when a noted highwayman, or burglar, or other
crimiual, was to be executed, crowds of most respectable citizens might be seen wending their
way from aU parts of the city toward the fatal tree.
The last execution at Tyburn took place on the 7th of November, 1783, In the same
month the first criminal was hanged in front of Newgate, which henceforth became the place
of execution. This change appears to have been made at the suggestion of Howard, from
philanthropic motives, to do away with the unseemly processions to Tybum.
In connection with this melancholy subject we extract a piece of curious information
from the chronicler Stow, which we give in his own words : " Only let it be added that
Mr. Robert Dow, merchant-taüor, that deceased 1612, appointed the sexton, or bellman, of
St. Septilchre's to pronounce solemnly two exhortations to the persons condemned, for which,
and for ringing the passing beU for them as they were carried to the cart by the said church,
be left to him 26s. 8<f. yearly, for ever.
" The exhortation to be pronounced to the condemned prisoners in Newgate the night
before their execution—
" You prisoners that are within.
Who, for wickedness and sin,
" after many mercies shown, you are now appointed to die to-morrow, in the forenoon;
give ear and understand that to-morrow morning the great bell of St. Sepulchre's shall toU
for you, in form and manner of the passing bell as used to be tolled for those that are at the
point of death. To the end that all goodly people hearing that beU, and knowing it is for
you going to your deaths, may be stirred up heartily to pray to God to bestow his grace and
mercy upon you whilst you live. I beseech you, for Jesus Christ his sake, to keep this
night in watching and prayer for the salvation of your own souls, while there is yet time
and place for mercy, as knowing to-morrow you must appear before the judgment-seat of
your Creator, there to give an account of all things done in this life, and to suffer eternal
torments for your sins committed against unless upon your hearty repentance you find
mercy through the merits, death, and passion of your only mediator and advocate, Jesus
Christ, who now sits at the right hand of God to make intercession for as many of you as
penitentiaUy return to him."
The admonition to be pronounced to the convicted criminals as they are passing by Saint
Sepulchre's Church to execution—
" AU good people, pray heartily to God for these poor sinners who are now going to their
death, for whom this great beU doth toU."
" You that are condemned to die, repent with lamentable tears. Ask mercy of the Lord
for the salvation of your own souls, through the merits, death, and passion, of Jesus Christ,
who now sits at the right hand of God to make intercession for as many of you as peniten¬
tiaUy return unto him.
" Lord have mercy upon you :
Christ have mercy upon you !
Lord have mercy upon you !
Christ have mercy upon you ! "
NEWGATE JAIL.
591
Writing in 1777, Howard states, that "the total number of executions for the previous
twenty-three years had been 678,and the annual average was 29 or 30," He remarks: "I could
wish that no persons suffered capitally but for murder, for setting houses on fire, and for
house-breaking, attended with acts of cruelty. The highwayman, the footpad, the habitual
thief, and people of this class, should end their days in a penitentiary-house rather than on
a gallows. That many cartloads of our fellow-creatures are, once in six weeks, carried to
slaughter is a dreadful consideration. And this is greatly heightened by refiection, that
with proper care and proper regulation, much the greater part of these wretches might have
been made into useful members of society, which they now so greatly dishonour in the sight
of all Christendom."
We have reason to believe that the original N^ewgate Jail, in the general arrangements
of its cells and wards was similar to the building erected in its place, but less commodious.
It was seldom visited by the sheriffs and magistrates, who did not like to venture within the
wards, "least they should soon be in their graves," and no government inspector was
appointed till the year 1777. Howard informs us : "In many jails, and in most bridewells
(Newgate included) there is no allowance of bedding or straw to lie in, and if by any means
they (the prisoners) get a little, it is not changed for months together, and is almost worn to
dust. Some lie on rags and others on the bare floor. The keepers told him " the County
allows no straw, and the prisoners have none but at their cost."
Stimulated by the noble philanthropy of Howard, a large new prison was erected by the
magistrates of the City, from designs furnished by George Dance, the City architect. It was
set on fire during the Protestant Eiots of 1780, by an infuriated mob, led by the fanatic
Lord George Gordon, but afterwards repaired. The interiors of the side wings have also been
recently changed, yet the outer walls still stand as massive as ever, and will possibly do so
for many centuries to come.
In 1783, John Howard, when referring to the old Prison of Newgate, writes thus:—
" The builders seemed to have regarded nothing in their plan but the single article of keeping
prisoners in safe custody. The rooms and cells were so close as almost always to be the
constant seats of disease and sources of infection. The City had, therefore, very good
resolution to build a new jail (which he did not consider as a model to be followed). I am
of opinion that without more than ordinary care the prisoners in it will be in great danger
of the jail fever."
In a later volume of his works, when writing an account of the present venerable
Prison of Newgate, then nearly erected, he observes that "there was no alteration his
former publication. In three or four rooms there were nearly one himdred and fifty wemen
crowded together, many young creatures with the old and hardened, some of whom had been
confined upwards of two years. On the men's side there were many boys of twelve or
fourteen years of age, some almost naked. In the men's infirmary there were only seven
iron bedsteads ; and at my last visit, there being twenty sick, some of them naked and
with sores in a miserable condition lay on the fioor with only a rug. There were four
sick in the infirmary for women, which is only fifteen feet and a half by twelve, has but one
window and no bedsteads, the sewers being oflensive, and the prison not whitewashed.
Unlets room be given for the separation of the prisoners, and a reform be made in the
prisons, an audacious spirit of profaneness and wickedness will continue to prevail in the
lower class of the people of London."
In 1787 there were in Newgate 140 debtors and 350 criminals—490. In 1788 there
were 114 debtors and 499 criminals—613. From which time to 1810, a space of twenty-
three years, Newgate continued in a wretched misguided condition. The number of pri¬
soners was increasing, and there was no proper classification of them.
In 1808, Sir Eichurd Philips, one of the sheriffs of the City, in his letter to the Livery
of London, after complaining of want of room, air, food, etc., adds :—" that he has been
592
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
shocked to see boys of thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen confined for months in the same yard
with hardened, incorrigible offenders. Among the women, all the ordinary feelings of the
sex are outraged by their indiscriminate association. The shameless victims of lust and
profligacy are placed in the same chamber with others who, however they may have offended
the laws in particular points, still preserve their respect for decency and decorum. In
immediate contact with such abandoned women, other young persons are compelled to pass
their time between their commitment and the Sessions, when of course it often happens that
the bill is not found against them by the Grand Jury, or they are acquitted by the Petty
Jury, When the female prisoners lie down on their floors at night, there must necessarily,
at least in the women's wards, be the same bodily contact and the same arrangement of heads
and legs as in the deck of a slave-ship. The wards being only forty-three feet wide, admit
by night of two rows to lie down at once in a length of thirty-seven feet ; that is to say,
twenty-five or thirty women, as it may be, in a row, having each a breadth of eighteen inches
by her length."
This stifling confinement of the women in 1808, when Newgate was crowded with
female prisoners, still continued in 1817. In 1818, the Honourable Mr. Rennet, M.P.,
wrote a letter to the Common Coimcil and Livery of the City of London, in reference to the
abuses existing in Newgate, and urging the necessity of an immediate reform in the manage¬
ment of that prison.
The Prison of Newgate was calculated to hold only 427 prisoners ; but on one occasion
about this time 822 prisoners, debtors and criminals, were huddled together, and sometimes
even as many as 1200; which overcrowding created infectious jaü fever. The prisoners
were not provided with bedding, and the food allowed them was hardly sufficient to
sustain life.
Mr. Bennet writes:—"The keeper of Newgate never attended Divine service, and the
ordinarj' did not consider the morals of even the children who were in the prison as being
under his care and attention. No care was taken to inform him of the sick till he got a warning
to perform a funeral. There was no separation of the young from the old, the children of
either sex from the most hardened criminal. Boys of the tenderest years, and girls of the
ages of ten, twelve, and thirteen were exposed to the vicious contagion that predominated in
all parts of the prison ; and drunkenness prevailed to such an extent, and was so common,
that unaccompanied with not it attracted no notice."
In 1815 some good arrangements were made as to a better allowance of food, clothing,
and coals, and several other matters, but the classification of persons was stUl neglected.
They still continued to herd together in the associated rooms and yards, and through the
facility of intercourse which subsisted between the prisoners and their friends and acquaint¬
ances who visited them, extensive burglaries and robberies were plotted in Newgate, and
notes were forged and coining was carried on within its gloomy walls. By bribing the
turnkeys intoxieating liquors were often introduced into the prison, and profligate women Were
permitted to visit the prisoners, under the pretext they were their wives, and by paying the
small fee of one shilling were allowed to remain during the night in wards containing several
beds, not separated from each other by a single curtain. There were then fifteen condemned
cells, which inconveniently contained forty-five persons, three in each cell. In his evidence
before the Police Committee, Mr. Bennet states:—"On the 19th of February, 1817, there
were eighty-eight persons .condemned to death in Newgate, of which five had been ,sentenced
in the July preceding, four in September, and twenty-nine in October. The evil of this
assemblage of persons is the entire absence of all moral or religious feeling. The greater
part of the criminals know that on them the sentence of the law will not be executed ; while
those whose fate is certain, or who doubt what the event may be, are compelled to associate
and live with the rest ; lessening the ennui and despair of the situation by unbecoming
merriment, or seeking relief in the constant application of intoxicating stimulants. I saw
NEWGATE JAIL.
593
■Caabman a few hoxirs before his execution smoking and drinking, with the utmost unconcern
and indifference. Nor indeed is this all. Supposing the prisoners of two Sessions are under
sentence, one reported and the other not ; there is no separation between those who are to be
executed and those who are unreported; the latter are gay, and even joyous, while the
former pass the few hours to remain to them in a feverish dream.
" The new keeper, Mr. Erown, has commenced a system of reform in all the departments
of the prison, which, if persevered in, will produce the most salutary results. He is endea¬
vouring to check the abuses which have prevailed in the management of the prison ; amongst
these abuses the sale of offices have been the most serious, and I have been informed that
the place of wardsman to the different wards has been often purchased of the turnkeys.
I knew an individual who told me that he offered fifty guineas for one of these situations,
and was refused ; no doubt because a better price was got. The introduction of spirits still
continues, and tUl the admission of strangers is better regulated, will never be wholly
prevented."
With reference to the female prisoners, the Honourable Mr. Bennet observes in his letter
to the Common Council and Livery of the City of London :—" The humane and excellent
management of Mrs. Pry and the Society of Friends, has placed this part of the prison in
a state of comparative excellence. No praise of mine can add weight to the tribute of general
applause which Mrs. Fry and her Committee of Friends have received from all who have
witnessed their efforts."
Mr. Bennet concludes his judicious and admirable letter in these words :—" I cannot
refrain from expressing my astonishment at a Heport which the Grand Jury of Middlesex,
who, in the discharge of their duty, inspected Newgate last session, have thought to make of
the state of that prison. They could not have noticed the want of proper classification, nor
the state of the condemned cells, nor the manner in which the prisoners sleep, nor the
promiscuous assemblage of all kinds of misdemeanants in the five yards, nor the want of
separation of old and young offenders in all parts of the prison ; for if they had noticed these
deficiencies, I am sure twenty-four Englishmen could not have passed a vote of high
admiration. The slight want of matting and covering is, in fact, a warn of proper rugs and
bedding ; and the nudity or the deficiency of shirts, shoes, and stockings, cannot but be
taken as trifling exceptions to those excellent arrangements which are the theme of this
extraordinary panegyric."
Since the year 1817, when these words were penned by Mr. Bennet, the arrangements of
Newgate have at various intervals been greatly reformed. In 1858, the associated rooms
and offices of the wings adjoining Newgate Street were removed, and a corridor erected
with interior arrangements similar to those of the Model Prison at Pentonville, and in 1860
the old buildings of the female wing were taken down and a corridor built in their place
after the same style. Tet the massive exterior remains the same as in the time of John
Howard.
f i.-a.
Interior of Newgate Jail.
The Lodge.—Ng enter the Lodge of Newgate Jail by a door, elevated a few steps
above the level of the street, in a line with the Old Bailey, flanked by dark huge masses of
stone, forming part of the wall, which is about four feet thick. This outer door is only
about four feet and a half high, and is covered on the top with formidable iron spikes—the
594
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
open space above being farther fenced with two strong iron bars with transverse iron rods.
There is another massive oaken inner door alongside, faced with iron, of enormous strength,
Avhich is only shut at night. It reminds us of the terrible prisons in the old barbaric times,
when criminals were more desperate than in our day, before Howard commenced his angelic
mission over the dungeons of England and the Continent. This door has a very strong
Rramah lock with a big brazen bolt, which gives a peculiarly loud rumbling sound when the
key is turned ; and at night it is secured with strong iron bolts and padlocks, and by an iron
chain. The groat bolts penetrate a considerable way into the massive stone wall.
The lodge is a small sombre-looking high-roofed apartment, with a semicircular iron-
grated window over the doorway, and a grated window on each side, and is floored with
wood. On our left hand is a small room, occupied by a female warder who searches the
female visitors to the prison, lighted by an iron-grated window ; and on our right is an ante¬
room leading to the governor's office. Another heavy oaken door, faced with iron, leads
into the interior of the prison ; and alongside, is an iron-grated window communicating with
the interior.
The warder in attendance, a genial-looking officer with robust frame, introduced us to
the governor, when we produced our order from the visiting justices of the prison. He
kindly allowed the deputy-governor to attend us over the various wards. Before leaving the
lodge we inspected the prison books, which were similar to those we found in several of the
prisons already described.
On the walls are suspended different notices by the Court of Aldermen in accordance with
Act of Parliament. One of them forbids liquors to be introduced into the prison, another
refers to visiting the prisoners, and a third, to the attorneys and clerks who should visit
them respecting their defences.
The deputy-governor opened the ponderous iron-bolted door leadmg into a gloomy pas¬
sage with arched roof, conducting along the back of the porter's lodge towards the male cor¬
ridor and kitchen. On our right hand is a strong door of the same description, leading to
the female prison, secured by ponderous lock and bolts.
We meantime turned to the left, and came to another strong oaken door faced with iron.
In this sombre passage the gas is kept burning, even at mid-day. As we passed along we
saw the sunbeams falling on a stone flooring through an iron grating, opening into the inte¬
rior of the old prison yard.
On passing through this heavy door, which is kept locked, the passage widens. Here
we saw a long wooden seat for the accommodation of the prisoners who are to appear before
the governor to have their descriptions taken. This passage leads, on the right-hand side,
into a room called the bread-room, where we observed a warder in the blue prison uniform,
who is detained here on duty.
The Bread-room.—We went with the chief warder into the bread-room, which is
also used to take descriptions of the prisoners, being well-lighted and very suitable for this
purpose. It has a wooden flooring, and is whitewashed. In this apartment is an old leaden
water-cistern, very massive, and painted of a stone colour, curiously carved, with the city
coat of arms inscribed on it, and dated 1781. There is here also a cupboard containing a
curious assortment of irons used in the olden time, as well as a number of those used in the
present day, of less formidable appearance. There are here deposited the leg-irons worn by
the celebrated burglar and prison-breaker. Jack Sheppard, consisting of an iron bar about an
inch and a half thick, and fifteen inches long. At each end are connected heavy irons for
the legs, about an inch in diameter, which were clasped with strong iron rivets. In the
middle of the cross-bar is an iron chain, consisting of three large links to fasten round the
body. We found these irons to weigh about twenty pounds.
There is also in this cupboard a " fac simile" of the heavy leg-irons of the celebrated
NEWGATE JAIL.
595
Dick Turpin, the mounted highwayman. These consist of two iron hoops about an inch
thick, to clasp the ankle, and about five inches in diameter. A ring goes through and con¬
nects with the iron clasp which secures the ankle with a long link on each side, about ten
inches in length and above an inch in thickness. These long links are connected with
another circular link by a chain passing through to fasten round the body. They are about
thirty-seven pounds in weight.
We also observed some of the old irons which were formerly put on the prisoners capi¬
tally convicted, and kept upon them, during day and night, tül the morning of execution.
There is also an axe which was made to behead Thisilewood and the other Cato Street con¬
spirators, guilty of high treason, which was not, however, used. This axe is large and
heavy, about nine inches wide at its broad edge, and an inch and a half thick at the back,
and must have required to'he wielded by a strong-armed executioner. It weighs about
eleven pounds. There is also a leathern belt about two and a half inches wide for pinioning
the persons to be executed. It goes round the body and fastens behind with straps to
secure the wrist, and clasp the arms close to the body. There is likewise another, used by
the executioner on the drop in securing the legs. A number of these straps had been used
in pinioning notorious murderers executed at Newgate, whose tragic histories are recorded
in the " Newgate Calendar;" and many of these leg-irons had fettered the hmbs of daring
highwaymen in the olden time, who used to frequent Blackheath and Hounslow Heath.
The massive and gloomy architecture of Newgate and its strong iron keeps, and these terrible
relics, give us a glimpse into the stern prison discipline of London of a bygone day.
There are manacles of a more recent date, for the wrist and leg, used in the removal of
convicts to the various prisons.
In another cupboard in this room is contained the bread provided for the prisoners.
There is also a machine for weighing it out. An officer generally sleeps here at night to
ring the alarm bell in case any of the prisoners should be sick, or should attempt to escape
from the prison.
There is here a door leading to vaults under the prison, where you descend by a flight of
stone steps.
Before leaving this room the deputy-governor informed us :—" The leg irons referred to
were attached to an iron belt, which went round the body, and were generally so short the
prisoners could not walk with freedom while encumbered with them." Then he showed us
one of these iron belts, which had three joints, one end of it lapped over upon the other, and
a staple was inserted through one of the openings, of which there were five in number about
an inch distant, similar to a leather strap ; so that by this means the belt could be securely
put on prisoners of different sme. Through the staple which fastened the belt a padlock was
generally inserted and was kept locked. There was a ring on each side of the belt, to which
the handcuffs could be easily attached in case of necessity.
Murderers' Busts.—"We meantime returned to an anteroom leading into the governor's
office, on the left hand side of the lodge, lighted by an iron grated window looking into the
Old Bailey. There is a cupboard here containing arms for the officers in the event of any
outbreak in the prison ; consisting of pistols, guns, bayonets, and cutlasses. On the wall
hung two very old paintings of Botany Bay, when convicts were first sent to that penal
colony, and also a painting of Davies who was executed many years ago for the murder of
his wife at Islington. It is roughly executed, and was done by himself before he was
apprehended- His brow is lofty and fuU. His undefface is rather sensual, but is by no
means characteristic of a murderer. Judging by his coimtenance, he does not appear to be a
desperate character, but to have been casually led into crime.
Along two shelves over the door, and on the top of an adjoining cupboard are arranged
three rows of the busts of murderers who have been executed at Newgate.
teïïTO
^g-rrrm
A
B
K
€
K
K
i
i 1
-.jL
GROUND PLAN OF NEWGATE JAIL BEFORE THE RECENT ALTERATIONS.
A. GoTenior> Office.
B. MatroQ'B Apartmeeta.
C. An Aaaociated Room.
D. An Airing Tard.
E. Bay and Sleeping Booms.
F. Chapel Yard.
G. Middle Ezeroising Yard for
untried Prisoners.
H. Another ditto.
I. Yards for Convicts and
Boys.
K. Female Exercising Yards.
L. Passage along tne Interlor^of
the Jail.
PRESENT GROUND PLAN OF NEWGATE.
A. Fresh Air Shaft.
B. Ordinary Cells in Malo CorrWor.
0. passage« along the lutAitiur.
D. Murüron' Ceil.
E. BetN^tLon Cells, etr.
F. Male Officers' Booms.
0. Van Entrance.
H. Exercising Yards for Malo and
Female Priaonors.
I. Matron's Apartments.
K. Cells for Female Prisoners,
L. Wasbbonse and r.Aandry.
M. Flat Light to Basement Cells of
Female Wing.
N. Mail Officer's Boom. .
0. Sub-matron's Apartments.!
P. F. V. Places whore Prisoners are
visited by their Friends.
B. Stairs leading to Upper Galleries
of Corridors.
S. Opening for Light to
of Male Corridor.
T. Infirmary.
U. Solicitor's Room.
W. Chaplain's Itoom.
X. Porter's Lodge.
Z. Kitchen.
NEWGATE JAIL.
597
The deputy-governor pointed out to us the bust of the miscreant Greenaere, who had a
very sinister appearance. The brow is narrow and low, and the underface sensual, strongly
indicative of a man of low passionate character. Another bust was pointed out to us as that
of Daniel Good, for murdering a female, a paramour of his, and burning the body in his stable.
The countenance was better moulded than that of Greenaere. The mouth had a peculiar
expression, yet the face did not indicate the daring nature of his crime. " There," said the
deputy-governor, looking to a full, large bust, " is Courvoisier, who was executed for the
murder of Lord William EusseU. The brow is low, the lower part of the face sensual, and
the neck full and protruding under the ears. " You will remark," said the deputy-governor,
" the upper lip of most of the group is thick, which might be caused by the process of
hanging." Some of them had their eyes open, and others had them shut. We saw the bust
i)f Lani, executed for the murder of a prostitute in the vicinit}' of the Haymarket, a
heavy, brutal-looking countenance ; and that of Mullins, lately executed for the murder of
an old lady at Stepney, who was so base as to charge an innocent man with the offence. He
had a heartless, politic, hypocritical expression of face, and we could believe him to have
been guilty of the most atrocious crimes.
The Kitchen.—On leaving the anteroom we pass through the lodge along the
gloomy passage to the back above referred to, and retrace our steps through the heavy iron
bolted door on the left. On our way to the kitchen we pass along the side of a room enclosed
with glass panelling, in the centre of a large apartment with groined roof. It is used for
the solicitors conversing with the prisoners respecting their defence. There we observed the
son of a Erench baron committed to Newgate for a month for not giving evidence against
his father in reference to an assault committed upon him. He was conversing with a lady
who occasionally visited him during his confinement.
We proceeded along a narrow, gloomy passage lighted with gas, and went into the kitchen,
which was very similar in dimensions and general appearance to the lodge, entering by a large
door of massive structure furnished with similar locks and bolts. Opposite to it, fronting
the Old Bailey, are two other ponderous doors, through which the culprit passes to the
drop on the morning of the execution. On such occasions over the door leading from the
passage are two irons fixed, on which two long rods are suspended with black curtains
attached to them.
In the kitchen are two large coppers, sufficient to cook food for 300 prisoners. The
steam is conveyed away from the coppers by means of copper pipes, that lead through a
grated window into the open air. On shelves were ranged bright tins for the use of the
prisoners, and wooden trays to carry the food from the kitchen to the various prison cells.*
*^* Corridor of Male Prison.—Leaving the kitchen, and bending our steps to the
left, we go along another sombre passage of the same character as the one described.
* THE FOLLOWING IS THE DIETAEV OE NEWGATE JAIL.
BreaJcfast for Male Prisoners :—
8 oz. of bread.
1 pint of oatmeal gruel, alternately seasoned with salt and molasses.
Ditto for Female Prisoners :—
Same diet as the males, with the exception that they have 6 oz. instead of 8 oz. of bread.
Dinner. On Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday the males and females have 3 oz. of cooked meat
without bone, 8 oz. of bread, and half a pound of potatoes.
On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday they have a pint of soup and 8 oz. of bread.
The soup contains 3 oz. of meat with vegetables.
The females have 6 oz. of bread instead of 8 oz.
Stipper. The same as the breakfast.
698
THE GßEAT WORLD OF LONDON".
Passing through a door at the extremity, we enter a covered bridge leading across a court
into the corridor of the male prison. It has four galleries, numbered respectively together
with the cells, on the ground floor A, B, C, D, and E, and is surmounted with a glass roof,
which presents a very cheerful appearance very unlike the remaining portion of the old
prison. We observed a stair on the outside communicating with each gallery, which is
girdled with an iron balustrade. There is also a hoisting machine, by wbich provisions
can be conveyed to each gallery in the short space of a minute and a half. There is a machine
for weighing the provisions, in the centre of the corridor, and a dial over the second gallery.
The following is a note of the cells, and the manner in which they are occupied, together
■with the classification of the prisoners :—
No. of cells. List of prisoners. Classification.
Basement . 11 Eeception ward. 0
Basement A . 17 ... 15 Remanded prisoners.
Gallery B . 27 .... 22 Transports and penal
servitude men.
— C . 26 .... 16 Felons.
— D . 26 .... 13 Misdemeanours.
— E . 26 .... Empty.
In answer to our interrogatories, the deputy-governor gave us the following statement :—
" The prisoners are brought here in prison vans from the various police courts over the
metropolis, being committed for trial by the magistrates. The City magistrates commit to
Newgate, and send prisoners for remand as well as for trial. The metropolitan police courts
only send those who have been committed for trial. Those sentenced by the justices of the
metropolitan police courts are sent to the House of Correction at Coldbath Fields, whereas
those in the City are sent to Holloway Prison. Prisoners convicted of a capital ofience
remain in Newgate until they are executed or reprieved. Some are incarcerated in Newgate
for short terms by the judges of the Old Bailey, such as for contempt of court, and others
are sent by the House of Commons for a similar offence."
" Newgate," continued the chief-governor, " is a house of detention for prisoners before
trial, as well as for those sentenced to penal servitude, kept here for a short time awaiting
an order from the Secretary of State to remove them to the Government depots for the
reception of convicts. In all cases of murder tried at the Old Bailey, the prisoners are sent
here. "When convicted they are given over to the sheriff of the county where the offences
have been committed. If done in Essex, the murderer is removed to Chelmsford ; if in Kent
he is removed to the county gaol at Maidstone, and if in Surrey he is taken to Horse-
monger Lane Gaol."
On the basement of this wing are the reception cells, and bath rooms, and the punish¬
ment cells.
Cells.—The deputy-governor showed us into one of the ceUs in the corridor, which
we found to be 7 feet wide, 13 feet long, and 8 feet 10 inches high, at the top of the arch. It
has a window with an iron frame protected by three strong iron bars outside. The furniture
consists of a small table which folds against the wall, under which is a small wooden shelf
containing brushes, etc., for cleaning the cell, a small three legged stool, and a copper basin
well supplied with water from a water-tap. On turning the handle of the tap in one
direction the water is discharged into the water-closet, and on turning it the reverse way it
is turned into the copper basin for washing. Each cell is lighted with gas, with a bright
tin shade over it. On the wall is suspended the prisoner's card.
There are three triangular shelves in a comer of the cell, supplied with bedding, etc., as
in other prisons we visited. The floor is laid with asphalt ; over the door is a grating
NEWGATE JAIL.
599
admitting heated air, with an opening under the window opposite to admit fresh air at the
pleasure of the prisoner. Under the latter, and near the basement of the cell is a grating
similar to the one over the door, leading to the extraction shaft carrying off the foul air, and
causing a clear ventilation.
Each cell is furnished with a handle communicating with the gong in the corridor, by
which the prisoner can intimate his wants to the warder in charge ; and the door is provided
with trap and inspection plate.
All the cells in the corridor are of the same dimensions, and similarly furnished.
Before leaving the corridor, about three o'clock in the afternoon, we visited several of the
cells. We first went to Gallery B, occupied by penal servitude men. In one cell we saw a
pleasant-looking, dark-complexioned man of about 30 years of age, sitting with one knee
crossed over the other reading a book.
In another we saw a man of the same age, apparently of Hibernian stock, sitting with
his feet on a three-legged stool. He had finished picking his quantity of oakuum, which lay
in a treacle coloured heap on the floor. The deputy-governor informed us he was an old
hand, and more expert at his work than the others.
We found a tail, good looking man of the same age, walking to and fro in his cell, who
had also finished picking his oakum. The deputy-governor informed us he was a notorious
housebreaker, who had already been transported for four years, and was now sentenced to
another longer term of fifteen years for housebreaking. He stated he was an interpreter, and
was able to speak several languages. When brought to the prison he was elegantly dressed in
the first of fashion. He was the finest looking fellow we ever saw in a prison, and had a
noble and commanding presence.
In one of the cells we saw a dark-complexioned young man of about 30 years of age
with his back to us teazing oakum. He had a pile of oakum lying before him, but his work
was not nearly done. He was a postman sentenced to penal servitude for appropriating the
contents of some of the letters committed to his care. The deputy-governor observed,
" They work steadily, but do not have the knack of the old hands, who do their work more
expeditiously."
In an adjoining cell was another postman charged with a like offence.
While in the corridor we saw a well dressed, gentlemanly man of mature years, pass up
a stair into a ceU in Gallery C. He had just come from having an interview with his legal
adviser, on a very serious charge of embezzlement.
On looking into one of the cells, we saw a prisoner with his vest and coat taken off, sitting
at a table writing with mannsöripts spread before him. He appeared to be a smart, business
man, and had been a cashier to an extensive wholesale commercial house in the City, along
with the person just referred to, and had also embezzled a heavy sum. He had been a fast
young man, and freqnented different dancing rooms, which led to his ruin.
In another cell we saw a respectable looking man in middle life, seated at his table with
his head leaning on his hand, and copious manuscripts spread before him. On seeing us
approach he appeared to be a little sensitive. He was di-essed in a tine black coat and vest,
and light trousers. He was charged with obtaining goods to tne enormous amount of
£12,000, and represented himself tobe a merchant. ■ He resided in Belgravia, an aristocratic
locality of London. The deputy-governor remarked, " it rarely happens criminals of fbig
kind are caught in the meshes of law, though no doubt such transactions are carried on by
swindlers of that description to a great amount."
In another cell we saw a foreigner, an artist, who had gained an ignoble celebrity by
attempting to extort money from a lady, his lover. He was apparently about 35 years of
age, and was handsomely equipped in a dark fashionable suit. While we were present he
was occupied writing, possibly preparing for his trial.
roo
THE GEEAT WOELD OP LONDON.
*#* Reception Cells, Baths, and Pmishment Cells.—On proceeding to the basement wo
visited the reception cells, which are eleven in number, of the same dimensions as those in
the corridor above, and fitted up in the same manner.
There are three slate baths, about six feet long, two feet broad, and two feet and a
half deep, provided with footboards. They are heated by means of pipes communicat¬
ing with the boiler in the engine-room. Two of them are fitted up in one cell, with a dress¬
ing-room adjoining. The other bath is in a long room, where there is a fireplace and a large
metal vessel, heated by steam, to cleanse the prisoners' clothes from vermin and infection.
This resembles a large copper, and is about two and a half feet in diameter and three feet deep,
with an ample lid screwed down so firmly that no steam can escape. The clothes are put
into it and subjected to the action of the steam for about a quarter of an hour, when the
vermin is destroyed. The clothes are not in the slightest degree injured. This vessel is
heated by means of a steam-pipe connected with the boiler in the engine room. The bath
is similar to the others already noticed.
The dark cells are situated at the extremity of the new wing on the basement. They
are six in number, and are of the same dimensions as the other cells. No light is admitted
into them, but they are well ventilated. The furniture of each consists of a wooden bench,
to serve as a bed—though it is a hard one—and a night utensil ; and the flooring is of stone.
There are two doors on each cell. When shut, they not only exclude a single beam of light,
hut do not admit the slightest sound.
The deputy-governor remarked, " There are very few punishments inflicted in this
prison. Sometimes the prisoners infringe the prison rules, by insolence to their officers or
making away with their oakum instead of picking it. We have only had two persons in the
dark cells for the past two years."
Opposite the bath room is an engine room, fitted up with two immense boilers for heat¬
ing the whole of the prison and keeping the baths supplied with hot water. The engineer
informed us that, during the winter, nearly a ton of coals is consumed per day. The pipes
are conveyed into the different cells for the purpose of heating them. Along the walls are
arranged a copious supply of iron tools for the purpose of repairing the different locks, etc.
*#• The Visiting of Prisoners by their Friends.—Leaving the corridor of the male prison
we returned to the passage across the court, covered with thick glass, where relatives and
friends are permitted occasionally to visit the prisoners. On each side of it is a double
grating, fenced with close wirework, of about four feet wide, occupied by the prisoners.
The relatives take their station on each side of the passage during the interviews, and a
warder is stationed by their side to overlook them. On one occasion we were present when
several of the prisoners were visited by their friends. One of them was a man of about fifty
years of age—a Jew—charged with having been concerned in the forgery of Eussian bank
notes. He was an intellectual-looking fair-complexioned man, with a long flowing beard
and a very wrinkled brow, and his head bald in front. He was very decently dressed, and
appeared deeply interested while he conversed in broken English through the wire-screen
with an elderly woman, who appeared to be warmly attached to him, and who was profoundly
affected with his situation. He appeared to be a shrewd man of the world. Alongside was
a genteel-looking young man, with sallow complexion and fine dark eye, who was visited by
a tall young woman, decently dressed, who stood with a white bundle in her hand. It
appeared this prisoner was under remand for stealing clothes from his employers. He looked
BuUen, and though apparently attached to the young woman, was very taciturn, and looked
around him with a very suspicious air. A modest-looking elderly man, with silver hair,
genteely attired in dark coat and vest and grey trousers, stood with a bundle in his hand,
and was busily engaged conversing with a little smart woman of advanced years, dressed in
a grey dress and dark shawl. We learned he was charged with embezzlement.
NEWGATE JAIL.
oOl
On the other side of the passage two young lads, dressed as costermongers, were visited
hy two plain-looking young girls, apparently belonging to their own order, who did not look
hy any means very concerned. Meantime a middle-aged woman was introduced into the
passage, dressed like the wife of a mechanic, and her eyes red with weeping. She held a
white handkerchief in one of her hands, and was under great excitement. Soon after, a
plain-looking boy, of about twelve years of age, was brought out of the corridor adjoining,
and came up to her. Ün seeing him, she gave an outcry, and burst into tears. Soon after,
she changed her mood and looked angry, while her son began to make protestations of his
innocence. She cautioned him not to be refractory, as, she said, "that would break her
heart more than anything." She told him she would come again and see him. The bell
rang, which was the signal that the time allowed for visiting was expired, when she reluc¬
tantly followed the steps of the other visitors who were proceeding hack towards the lodge
of the prison. The boy wept aloud as she was leaving him, and was removed hack to his
ceU. It appeared he was charged with passing had money.
*** The Murderers' Cells.—Leaving the male corridor we pass through an iron gate on
the left into a small passage, paved with slate, beside an exercising-ground bordering on
Newgate Street, which extends along the farther side of the new wing. On turning to the left»
towards the front of the prison, we came to two rooms reserved for murderers. Each of these
is about the size of two common cells, and has an arched brick roof supported on iron girders.
The wretched men confined in these are watched day and night hy a warder. The furniture
consists of a wooden bedstead about nine inches in height from the fioor, supplied with the
following bedding : a mattress, three blankets, a pair of sheets, and a pillow, a table larger
than in the ordinary cells, and a settle about six feet in length. It is lighted by an iron-
grated window with fluted glass. The floor is laid with asphalt. There is also an alarm
bell, which communicates with the adjoining corridor, where a warder is constantly on duty
night and day. There are three triangular shelves in a corner of the room, furnished pretty
similar to the ordinary cells. A knife is not allowed them—the food being cut up into
small pieces in the kitchen before it is brought to the prisoner ; this is to prevent his laying
violent hands on himself. Every precaution is taken in such an extreme ease. As this wing
of the prison has been recently erected, there has only been one murderer confined in one of
them—the miscreant Mullins—for murdering Mrs. Emsley of Stepney, whose conviction
was chiefly owing to the ingenious and admirable management of the late Inspector Thorn¬
ton of Scotland Yard. Mullins was a middle-aged man of a wretched appearance. He was
a returned convict, and had been at one time in the constabulary force in Ireland. " During
the time he was in custody, before his execution," said the deputy-governor, " he conducted
himself very well, and was quiet and orderly as most in his situation are." The cell along¬
side is of a simüar character.
*** Burying Ground of the Murderers.—On leaving the murderers' cells we followed the
deputy-governor through the midst of the convicts clad in dark-grey prison dress, consist¬
ing of jacket, vest, and trowsers, and Scotch cap. At the farther end of the exercising
ground we proceeded through the corridor, and went under the covered arch leading into an
exercising-yard of the same description as the opposite side of the new wing. We continued
our course until we reached the airing-yard attached to the female prison, which, like the
others, is covered with pavement, where we entered a long passage about eight feet wide,
extending from the extremity of the associated rooms of the old prison, now to he used as an
infirmary, to the nearest comer of the female wing, where it turns off in a right angle along
the back of the female prison to the Sessions House adjoining. This portion contiguous to
the female wing is the graveyard of the murderer ; so that when conducted to and from the
dock, of the Old Bailey he passes over the ground which is to be his own grave. It is
44
G02
THE GREAT WORLD OE LONDOH.
bounded on the one side by the lofty walls of the female prison, and on the other by a very
high wall flanking it from the adjacent outlying dwellings. It is laid with pavement,
portions of which have been displaced by the sinking of the ground, perhaps caused by the
mouldering of the bodies beneath. Along the walls, on each side, are the initials of the sur¬
names of the assassins, such as G for Greenacre, G for Good, M for Mullins, L for Lanj.
This plain-looking passage is invested with tragic interest, when we think of the mouldering
bones of the murderers rotting benoath, and carry our imagination back to the deeds of
horror they transacted, the recital of which have brought paleness to many a cheek.
*#* Exercising Qrounds.—There are four exercising grounds, all of them paved, con¬
nected with the male wing, in addition to a fifth belonging to the female branch of the
prison. Two of them consist of a long narrow strip of ground on each side of the male wing.
The other two are situated between the old associated rooms at the back of the prison and
the rooms set apart for the chaplain and the solicitors.
In proceeding from the new wing of the male prison we go through a strong iron door
into a large square exercising ground, about fifty feet long and forty-eight feet broad. In a
comer of it is another grated enclosure for visiting the prisoners. It extends on each side
of the door through which the criminal passes to the drop to be executed. There is here a
pump connected with an artesian well in the ground below. On looking around us we are
surrounded with the dark lofty walls of the old prison, about forty feet high, together with
the red brick walls of the new wings, which are in some places armed with iron spikes, to
prevent the escape of the prisoners. On one occasion we saw a detachment of prisoners in
this exercising ground. They were clad in their own apparel, and were marching actively
round the square, about three yards apart from each other. Some of them appeared to be
felons of the lower order, in miserable, poverty-stricken attire ; others were dressed as labour¬
ing men. A remarkable group of five persons was pointed out to us by one of the warders
as being charged with the forgery of the Russian bank notes. They were of Jewish extrac¬
tion, but of different style of countenance. An active good-looking man, of about thirty-five
years of age, with fine features, attired as a well-dressed mechanic, is charged vñth forging
the plate, and the others are implicated, more or less, in the transaction. One of them,
a thin-faced, slim, smart, fair-complexioned youth, of about twenty-five years of age, was
dressed in a drab greatcoat and hat. Other two had strongly-marked Jewish features, and
were of dark complexion, and apparently of about forty years of age. The other was the
intelligent-looking man we saw in the visiting ground, as already noticed. He appeared to
us, although not the forger of the plate, to be the chief of the gang.
Adjoining this square exercising ground, and behind the solicitor's room, is a yard of
narrower dimensions, divided from the other by a wall about fourteen feet high, formidably
crowned with strong iron spikes. There is also a pump in this yard, communicating with
another artesian spring, and an iron grating about three feet from the wall adjoining the
grated windows of the solicitor's room. There were no prisoners exercising here at the time
of our visit.
On a subsequent visit we saw several boys exercising in the narrow court adjoining the
murderers' cells. A pale-faced, knock-kneed lad of about fourteen years of age, with a very
sinister look, was charged with getting money by a forged order. He was dressed in dark
clothes. A little schoolboy, of ten years of age, with a very innocent-looking face, was
charged with stealing a glazier's diamond, and is now under remand. He was dressed in
ordinary trowsers and dark grey jacket. Another genteel lad, of about fifteen years of age,
is charged with stealing money from his employer, a hosier, in Regent Street. Another boy,
dressed in shabby black dress, is charged with attempting to hang himself. He was under-
waiter in an eating-house in the City, and had formed an attachment for a girl who pre¬
ferred another. Hi chagrin and despair, the poor lad attempted to take his own life by
NEWGATE JAIL.
603
hanging himself in the kitchen where he was employed. As we looked on his gentle quiet
countenance we could scarcely believe he was capable of such a desperate deed.
Soon after, the boys were removed from the exereising ground, and were replaced by a
gang of men clad in the grey prison dress. They were mostly from 18 to 35 years of age,
and were aU under sentence of penal servitude for different periods. " They are detained
here but a limited time," said the deputy-governor, " awaiting an order from the Secretary
of State to be removed to one of the government prisons. Meantime they are employed
picking about three pounds of oakum a day." They consisted of pickpockets, burglars,
forgers, and others, along with two murderers ; and did not by any means appear to be so
dejected as we would have expected. A bright-eyed tall English youth was pointed out to
us as a convicted burglar. A quiet middle-aged man, of about thirty years of age, with a
dejected mien, had been guilty of forgery to a serious amount. He had been a solicitor in
the metropolis, with an extensive business and bright prospects, but he had lived a gay life,
beyond his means, which led to his crime and ruin. A young man of colour was charged
with passing bad money. He had lately returned from penal servitude for four years. We
particularly observed the young lad. Reeves, charged with murdering his sister in Drury
Lane. He is of robust frame, about sixteen years of age, fair-complexioned, with a full
intelligent countenance, and modest demeanour. He walked actively around the exercising
ground, smiling occasionally to an Irish youth, a prisoner. The deputy-governor observed
he was a very quiet well-behaved lad, and must have been exasperated by ill-treatment to
the commission of his bloody deed.
The other murderer, Maloney, charged with murdering a woman in Westminster, is a
strong athletic man, of about forty-five years of age, and is apparently a quick-tempered,
determined man. He was evidently in good spirits.
Old Associated Rooms.—Before treating of the old associated rooms, which are now
about to be transformed into an infirmary, we may advert to the alterations which have been
lately made in Newgate Prison. The old sombre prison of our day was a new building in
the time of the redoubtable prisonbreaker. Jack Sheppard. The whole of his daring exploits
were achieved in an older building of smaller dimensions, the site of which extended in the
direction of Giltspur Street. The present gaol of Newgate was erected in 1784, under the
direction of George Dance, junior, architect and clerk of the city works. Only a small
portion of the old gaol was left tül lately, at the farther extremity fronting Newgate Street.
The whole of the erections within the wing contiguous to Newgate Street were cleared away
in 1858, consisting of associated rooms, cells, small exercising yards, etc., and a new wing
was erected in the form of a large lofty corridor, extending from the one extremity of the
building to the other.
In 1861 the female prison was taken down and a new wing erected, consisting of a
corridor and laundry, after the more approved modem plan of prison architecture. The
central portion of Newgate, consisting of the governor's residence, lodge, kitchen, chaplain's
room and solicitor's room, together with the associated rooms at the back, were leftimtouched.
They are built in more massive and gloomy style, and leave a more solemn impression on the
mind than the light airy corridors of our modern model prisons. There are six of those
agssociated rooms ; two of them adjoining the female exercising ground arc to be fenced off
and appropriated to the females, and the other four to be attached to the male branch of the
prison, and to be used as an infirmary.
On ascending the massive stone staircase which leads to one of those large associated rooms,
we saw strong iron rods fixed into the wall. By this means the warder could climb up to look
through the inspection openings made into the solid wall. The doors leading into these rooms
are fenced with iron, and secured with strong lock and bolts. On entering one of them we
found it to be about thirty-seven feet long, sixteen feet wide, and fourteen feet high. A long
604
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
deal table, about sixteen inches in breadth, extends along the eentre of the room, with forms
on each side. Between this table and the back wall are eighteen wooden bunks, built over
each other in three tiers, as on board ship, in which the prisoners sleep. There are four
windows in the room with panes of glass in iron frames, protected from without by strong
iron bars. The flooring consists of oak caulked with oakum, and with strong iron frame¬
work between the ceiling and the flooring. There is a fireplace with a narrow chimney,
fenced at intervals with cross-bars of iron let into the solid wall, and a coal cellar and water-
closet attached. In such places as these the criminals of the olden times—common thieves,
pickpockets, burglars, and others—used to herd together indiscriminately; and no doubt
many of them, in their own way, had a jolly time of it. They were supplied with pro¬
visions by their pals and relatives, and were not compelled to live on the prison fare as now-
The deputy-governor informed us that as many as twenty would sometimes be found in one
of these rooms, which were nurseries of crime—the old hardened felon, contaminating the
young and inexperienced. At the time he came to the prison, about twenty-five years ago,
the prisoners slept on the floor upon rope mats with woollen coverlets, which were after¬
wards replaced by wooden bedsteads, similar to the berths as on board ship. Then, as now,
the prisoners did not do any labour before trial ; but after trial were sent to correctional
prisons. ,
" In those days," continued the deputy-governor, " the doors of these rooms were left
open from morning to night, and the prisoners had access to each other's rooms, as weU as
to the exercising yards, until the time of locking up at night. A bell rang at dusk all the
year round, for them to come in to their respective wards, when the officers visited them
and ascertained if the proper number was present. There was no picking oakum then and
no labour ; but the food supplied them is better now. Before trial, the prisoners had it
in their choice to take the gaol allowance or to procure food of their own."
Before the recent alterations of the prison commenced in 1858, an old cell was said to
be seen where Jack Sheppard had been confined. It was an associated room, about
eighteen feet square, with lofty ceiling, and was situated on the second storey, over the
ground now occupied as the central square exercising ground of the male prison. The door
was of massive strength, and the windows were double-barred. The roof consisted of lath
and plaster, behind which were solid bars of iron and an oaken roof, and sheets of copper.
There were ring-bolts attached to the oaken floors, to which the prisoners' heavy chains were
attached. "We visited a cell of similar dimensions on the second storey, contiguous to the
solicitor's room, which is at present used as an infirmary. There we found one solitary
prisoner extended on a bed, seriously indisposed, and apparently in a critical condition.
•#* The Chapel.—We visited the chapel, which is of moderate size. It has two galleries,
one for females with a black screen before it, and the other for the men under sentence of
penal servitude. In front of the female gallery is painted the royal arms—the lion and the
unicorn ; and in front of the male gallery is the city arms, with the motto, " Domine dirige
nos"—(O Lord, direct us.)
There is a pulpit and reading-desk similar to those in an ordinary chapel, which are
wainscoated and covered with dark cloth. On each side, in the area below, there are seats
for the prisoners detained for trial, enclosed within iron stanchions. Alongside of the cells
in the gallery, on the male side, is a pew for the magistrate, and another seat for the sheriffs
when attending service on the morning the prisoner is to be executed. The condemned sits on
a nfiair in the area below, by the side of the pulpit, beside the governor's pew, with a warder
by his side. There are a few seats in the area of the chapel for the officers of the prison.
Several long windows, looking into the interior of the courts, are protected by iron stanchions.
The chapel has a wooden flooring, and is lighted by a dark-painted gas chandelier.
There is an altar enclosed in an iron railing, covered with dark cloth and cushion ; over
NEWGATE JAIL.
60Ö
it is inscribed a copy of the Ten Commandments, and over against it a copy of the Lord's
Prayer and the Creed.
We were not present at any of the services.
The deputy-governor stated—" We have prayers every morning from half-past 9 to 10
o'clock, and have two services on Sundays, in the morning and afternoon."
'¡¡i.-ß.
The Female Prison.
On advancing through the lodge into the interior of the prison, and turning along the
passage to the right we pass through a heavy door, faced with iron, leading through the
female exercising ground to the female wing of the prison. The yard is of an irregular
form, being narrower at this end, and having a portion fenced off with strong iron railing
for female prisoners receiving the visits of their friends. The visitors stand in a narrow
passage 3 feet wide and 15 feet long, and converse with the prisoners, who take their station
on the exercising ground. An officer patrols in an intervening space, a few feet wide, be¬
tween them. This visiting ground is covered with thick glass, so that the friends of the
prisoners are sheltered during the inclemency of the weather.
Crossing the exercising ground we pass beneath an iron and slate bridge leading from the
new female wing to the chapel. We then enter a wide passage, eight feet wide, and go
through an iron gate leading into the corridor of the female wing, which is very similar in
its general construction to that of the male, only it is not so large, and has three galleries
instead of four. As we enter the female corridor we observe two boxes fitted up with glass
windows and doors, for the use of the solicitors meeting the prisoners, with the view of
conducting their cases, having a wooden partition between them. There is a seat in front for
the prisoner when advising with her agent. Each of these boxes is furnished with a table,
an inkstand, and a chair.
In the centre of the corridor we find a staircase leading down to the basement, and near
the farther end is a stair connected with the first gallery. The corridor is lighted hy a
cheerful glass roof, similar to that in the male wing, and the galleries are encircled with
railings. On the right of this passage, as we enter, two small rooms have been furnished
for the sub-matron, a young active warder ; and on our left hand are three apartments fitted
up for the matron—the other side of the corridor consisting of a series of cells for the
prisoners, and termed A, while the three galleries above are respectively named B, C, and D.
*#* Reception Cells, Punishment Cells, and Bath Rooms.—We descended with the matron
to the basement, and visited the Reception Ward, consisting of nine cells about the same size
as those in the male branch of the prison.
These are much darker than those in the corridor above. There was not a single prisoner
confined in them at the time of our visit, nor had there been so for several days previous.
They were furnished very similar to those in the male reception ward already described.
There are two bath rooms in the reception ward, each containing two baths, which are
dimly lighted during the day, being situated on the basement, under the gloomy shadows of
the surrounding walls. The baths are 3 feet 6 inches deep, 5 feet 6 inches long, and 2 feet
wide, and are set in a wooden framework. They arc supplied with hot and cold water
by means of pipes connected with the male prison.
606
THE GEEAT WOELD OE LONDON.
The matron informed us there are 58 cells in the female prison, which are generally
otcupied by about 25 prisoners. At the time of our visit there were fewer than usual.
There is another bath room of a larger size, and more cheerfully lighted, at the extre¬
mity of the reception ward, containing a bath similar to the others we have mentioned,
with a footboard as in the other bath rooms. In this bath room is a fumigating apparatus,
resembling a large copper, painted black, and resting on a brick pediment. There is a
steam-pipe let in to the bottom of this vessel, through the flooring, to cleanse the dirty linen
and clothing.
There are two dark cells contiguous to those we have mentioned in the reception ward.
Each of them is furnished with a wooden bedstead having a board raised 2^ inches, on which
the prisoner reclines her head. The bedstead is about 6 feet in length, and 2 feet 3 inches
in breadth. These cells are floored with slate, and roofed with brick.
*#* The Launá/ry.—On entering the laundry, which is about thirty-six feet long and
eighteen feet broad, we observed two large coppers built into brickwork, and supplied with
steam by means of pipes. There is also a water-pipe which supplies them with water. On
the outside of the brickwork, connected with the bottom of the coppers, there is a tap which
carries off the water, when soiled, through an iron grating into a drain imder the flooring.
Adjoining are two new wooden rinsing troughs, with two pipes, to supply them with hot
water, and a wringing machine with two crank handles, patented by " Manlove, AUiott, and
Company, engineers, Nottingham." There are six washing-boxes, each of them provided with
two washing-troughs having a wooden partition between them. The larger of the troughs
is supplied with hot and cold water, and the smaller one with cold water only. We found
several female prisoners busy washing. They wash the clothes in the larger one, and use
the other for rinsing. The doors of these boxes have no wooden panels, but are faced with
iron gratings, by which the warder on duty can see the prisoners at their work.
We passed into the ironing-room, which is supplied with six wooden horses, where the
clothes are hung up to dry and exposed to the action of steam. They are drawn out and in
upon iron slides about twelve feet long. In this apartment is contained a store of the female
prison clothing, consisting of blue wincey gowns with dark stripe, a blue checked'apron, a
petticoat, a blue checked neckerchief and white cap, along with underclothing. It is also
furnished with a large table for folding and ironing the clothes, a mangling machine, and
a stove for heating the irons. At the time of our visit there was a large table in the centre
of the room, containing a great heap of male prison clothing, along with a pile of sheets for
the use of the male and female prison, the prisoners were about to wash.
This apartment is nearly forty feet in length and eighteen feet in breadth, and is lighted
by a large oblong skylight, similar to the other apartment—the roofs of both being lofty and
airy. The apartment is floored with wood, with the exception of the part opposite to the
drying horses.
The laundry warder informed us—" There are at present four female prisoners employed
in washing the clothes belonging to the male and female prison. They commence their
work at 7 o'clock in the morning, and finish at 5 in the afternoon. As a general rule, they
are engaged from Monday to Friday afternoon.
On leaving the laundry we visited several of the cells in the corridor above, which were
more gloomy and lonely in appearance than in any other prison we had visited—partly
caused by the overhanging clouds of smoke which loom over the city, and partly by the
sombre lofty surrounding walls of the prison.
Most of the prisoners were ordinary-looking persons, charged with common offences.
In one of the rooms used as an infirmary we saw an elderly woman, of about fifty years of
age, her countenance very haggard, walking to and fro in her cell with her head covered.
She is charged with throwing vitriol on a child, and had been confined with bronchitis, but
NEWGATE JAIL.
607
is now in a convalescent state. The matron informed us she has been in a better position in
life than most of the other prisoners. After a time she sat down beside a woman of about
thirty-five years of age—a miserable, distressed-looking creature—charged with strangling
her child, who was then employed knitting. A very coarse-looking yoxing woman was
confined along with them, charged as an accomplice in a burglary, who had been placed beside
them to attend to their wants. This was one of the most dismal pictures we had seen in
the course of our visits to the London prisons.
The Engineer.—We were introduced to the engineer of the prison, who informed us
that he superintended the warming and ventilating of the prison, and likewise executed
repairs of various kinds, such as locks, beUs, gas fittings, etc.
He conducted us into the boiler-room, which contains two steam boilers used for warming
the main prison by means of pipes extending through both wings. These boilers also supply
steam to the hot water tanks for the baths in both prisons. The steam is also conducted by
means of pipes into two coppers in the laundry for boiling the clothes, and also into the
drying closet, where the clothes are spread out on the six wooden horses. Sometimes it is
used for the ventilation of the prison in summer, by rarefying the air in the extraction shaft,
which rises 60 or 70 feet high.
The vitiated air is extracted from the cells by smaller fines connected with the main flue,
and thence passes into the extraction shaft. By the powerful extraction consequent on the
height of the shaft about 30 cubic feet of fresh air is drawn through each cell in a minute.
This prison is ventilated on the same principle as the model prisons, from designs invented
by Haden and Son, Trowbridge.
The engineer conducted us to the shaft, and showed us the various pipes used in the
ventilation. Passing from the extraction shaft we saw the machine for destroying vermin
in the prisoners' clothing by means of steam being admitted into it, which is much superior
to fumigating with brimstone, adopted in many other prisons.
In answer to our queries, the engineer stated, " I generally have one of the prisoners to
assist me as a stoker, and sometimes I have a smith or carpenter in the repairs required in
the prison. I commence my duties in the morning at a quarter to six o'clock in the summer,
and a quarter to seven in the winter, and finish at half-past five o'clock in the afternoon,
excepting Sundays. I leave every Sunday morning at ten o'clock.
The Sessions Souse is situated adjoining to Newgate. The older wing is uniform
with it in external appearance, and was the ancient Sessions House. In former times there
was only one High Criminal Court held there, but the business is now divided among
three ; and sometimes a fourth is held in the Grand Jury room, all within the same
building in the Old Bailey. The heavier offences are tried here, such as forgery, arson,
coining, manslaughter, murder, etc. At one or other the Eecorder and the Common Seijeant
are seated on the bench and other judges of the State.
The old Court-room, which is represented in the engraving, is only about 50 feet square.
There are six small moveable desks, on which the judges take their notes, and write their com¬
munications, comfortably seated on cushioned seats of a crimson colour. The panelling
behind them is covered with crimson cloth sadly faded. Over the centre of the bench there
is a tasteful wooden canopy, surmounted with the Eoyal arms beautifully carved. A sword of
Justice, with a gold handle and ornamental scabbard is usuaEy suspended under the canopy
during the sittings of the Court. Opposite to the bench, on the other side of the Court¬
room is the dock, a small enclosure, 13 feet by 19, where the criminals stand to take their
trial. The jury-box, consisting of two long seats, is situated on the right hand of the judges.
The Clerk of the Arraigns occupies a desk beneath the bench, and fronting the dock. The
attorneys arc seated around a table, in the area of the Court, covered with green cloth, and
608
THE G HEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
the counsel in wig and gown, their official costume, occupy three seats alongside. Behind
the latter there are several seats for the reporters, with others for the friends of the judges,
and for a portion of the jury in waiting. The prisoners enter the' dock by a staircase
behind communicating with the cells beneath. The governor of Newgate occupies a seat
at the corner of the dock, by the side of the prisoners and their attendants. Behind and
above the dock there is a small gallery for the public, where heads are seen peering over as
in the engraving, and there are usually a number of solicitors, barristers, ■witnesses, and
polii;emen clustered around the area, and to be seen in the various passages.
There are seven doors entering into the old Court-room ; two of them on the side next
to Newgate, one of them in the area being for witnesses, and another more elevated being
a private entrance for the judges. On the opposite side there are two doors, one for the jury
and counsel, and the other a private entrance for the judges and magistrates who take their
seats on the bench. There is another door behind the bench, by which any of the judges
are able to retire when disposed ; and on each side of the dock there is a door for the entrance
of the witnesses, solicitors, and jury.
This Court-room is lighted by three large windows towards Newgate, and by three
smaller sombre windows on the opposite side.
The deputy-governor of Newgate informed us, that all classes of hea-vy offences are
tried at the Old Bailey Criminal Court, which is the highest in England. The prisoners are
brought from the prison of Newgate and placed in cells under the courts, until they are
called to the bar to be tried. They are then brought into the dock to answer to the criminal
charges brought against them. The indictments are read over to each of them, and they are
asked by the Clerk of the Arraigns if they are guilty or not guilty. If they plead guilty,
they are ordered in the meantime to stand back. If they plead not guilty, they remain at
the bar until all the pleas are taken of the other prisoners at the dock. After this is done
the jury are called into the jury box, to proceed to investigate the different cases. The
prisoners can object to the jurymen before being sworn. If the prisoner at the bar is found
guilty, he is sentenced by the judge, and removed to the prison. If he is declared not guilty,
a discharge is written out by the governor, and he retires from the bar.
In the case of a murderer, he is taken to the Court in custody of an officer. He is
arraigned at the bar in the same way as the other classes of prisoners. If touua guilty he is
taken back to the condemned cell, where he is watched day and night until he is executed,
which generally takes place within three weeks thereafter.
The deputy-governor stated :—" I find the murderers to be of very different characters.
Some are callous and ruffian-like in demeanour, but others are of more gentle and peaceable
disposition, whom you heartily pity, as you are convinced from all you see about them, that
they had been incited to the commission of their crime through intemperance or other inci¬
dental causes, foreign to their general character. We find those to be worst who premedi¬
tated their crimes for gain. There have been few murderers here who assassinated from
revenge. I have seen 29 criminals executed in front of Newgate, and was present in the
Court at the trial of most of them. Palmer was one of the most diabolical characters
among penal offenders I ever saw in Newgate, and Mrs. Manning the most callous of females.
Palmer was a gentlemanlike man, educated for a surgeon. By giving himself up too much
to gambling and field sports he was led to the murder of J. P. Cooke to repay his losses. He
was executed at Stafford, and was only temporarily under our custody here. In person he
was strong built, about the ordinary height, and had very strong nerves. Mrs. Manning
was a very resolute woman, but her husband was a very imbecile character, and had been
dragged into crime through the strong mind of his wife, who had formerly been lady's maid
to ttie Duchess of Sutherland.
" I was in charge of Green.acrc," added the deputy-governor, " the night previous to his
NEWGATE JAIL.
609
execution. He was a coarse-looking man of about fifty years of age, and was a hardened
miscreant. He murdered a female who cohabited with him in 1837, and cut up her body
and distributed it over different parts of the metropolis. This case made a very great
sensation at the time, and there were upwards of 16,000 spectators at his execution. The
houses fronting Newgate charged three guineas for a station at their windows to witness
the execution. Two sovereigns were given for a seat on the roofs of some of the houses.
There were numbers of persons of distinction on the house-tops and in the windows opposite.
" I have seen some of the murderers very unnerved when on the eve of their execution ;
as, for example, Hocker, a schoolmaster, tried in April 1845, for the murder of Mr. Delarue
in the fields at Hampstead. He was a young man, and assumed the greatest bravado up to
the moment of his execution. The officers in Newgate knew very well it was only pre¬
tended. After he was pinioned on the morning of his execution, it was evident to all present
that he was unnerved, and had lost his former effrontery. On the first stroke of the prison
bell, which gave the signal to the culprit to move forward to the place of execution, his face
changed to different colours, and he fell backwards, overcome, into the arms of his attendants.
He was obliged to be carried out and placed under the fatal beam, and was held up by the
officers till the executioner drew the bolt."
The deputy-governor informed us he has taken notes of the executions in Newgate since
1816, when criminals were hanged for cutting and wounding, burglary, forgery, uttering
base coin, etc. The law was changed in 1836 in reference to capital punishments, and the
sentence of death is now restricted to murder and high treason. In 1785 nineteen persons,
and in 1787 no less than eighteen were executed at one time.
When females are convicted of murder, they are asked by the Clerk of Arraigns if they
have anything to urge why sentence of death should not be passed on them. The matron
who sits in the dock beside a female culprit, asks if she is in the family way. A curious
case took place in 1847. Mary Ann Hunt, being convicted of murder, was asked by the Clerk
of the Arraigns if she had anything to urge why sentence of death should not be passed
upon her. She replied through the matron in the dock that she was with child. An unusual
step was here taken. A jury of twelve married women were summoned to Conrt, who on being
sworn, examined her. After they were absent for some time, they returned into the Court,
and stated she was not with child. She was afterwards examined by the medical officer in
Newgate, and found to he pregnant. She gave birth to a son on the 28th of December
following. When before the Court she must have been eight months gone with child.
"During the time I have been in Newgate," said the deputy-governor, "I have only
seen two women executed. The murderers generally sleep well on the night before their
execution.
"The scaffold is erected immediately before the execution. The workmen commence
about one o'clock in the morning, and finish about six o'clock. Executions generally take
place on the Monday morning. The wooden fences around the scaffold to keep back the
spectators, are generally put up on the Monday. The scaffold is about the size of a large
caravan, the sides being let down, and a beam erected over it. The floor is composed of two
parts, constructed so as to fall down to each side. The executioner touches a handle similar
to a common pump handle, which detaches the bolt underneath, and the murderer is suspended
by the neck in presence of the vast confluence of people. He generally hangs for one hour,
when a coffin is brought and placed under the body. The executioner in presence of the
sheriffs, or some of the authorities, takes hold of the body and puts it into the coffin, after
having cut the rope. The coffin is then brought into one of the wards of the prison, and
is afterwards buried in the interior of Newgate in the afternoon of the sume day, in presence
of the governor or the under-sheriffs.
The deputy-governor stated that before being interred the body is inspected by the
610
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
medical officer of Newgate in the presence of the sheriffs, and ascertained to be lifeless;
and a cast is generally taken of the head and face. " The greatest confluence of people,"
he added, " I ever saw assembled at an execution here was in the case of Greenacre in 1837,
and Mullins in November 1860. There were about 16,000 people present on each of these
occasions. The crowd generally musters on the Sabbath evening at eight o'clock, and
increases during the night, consisting, to a great extent, of boys and girls. The greater
portion of the spectators assemble between six and seven o'clock.
GENERAL STATISTiCS OP NEWGATE JAIL FOR THE YEAR ENDING SEPT. 1860.
irUUBEB at PBI0OKEB8.
Males.
For trial at Assizes and Sessions... 907
Summary Convictions —
Want of sureties —
Remanded and discharged 148
Debtors and civil process 3
Mutiny Act 1
Females.
208
69
Tota commitments
1059
... 277
PREVIOUSLY COMMITTED TO
ANY PBISON.
Males.
Females.
... 57
Twice
.. 71
... 12
Thrice
.. 24
2
Four times
.. 10
4
Five times
.. 2
—
Seven times, and above five
.. 3
—
Ten times, and above seven
.. 2
—
Above ten times
Total
289
... 75
AGE AND BEX.
Males.
Females.
Under twelve years
.. 9
6
Twelve to sixteen years
.. 43
5
Sixteen to twenty-one years ....
.. 206
... 59
Twenty-one to thirty „
.. 434
... 101
Thirty to forty „
.. 193
... 65
Forty to fifty „
.. 113
... 33
Fifty to sixty
.. 34
5
Sixty and above
.. 23
3
Age not mentioned
—
Total
1055
277
CASES OF BICENESS.
Males.
Females.
Greatest number at one time ...
.. 18
5
.. 1
—
Infirmary cases
.. 19
10
Slight indisposition
... 70
Total.
725
85
nSSBFE OP OrSIBUCTIOK.
Males. Females.
Neither read nor write 146 ... 62
Read, or read and write imperfectly 607 •••
Read and write well 293 ... 30
Superior instruction 9 ... —
Instruction not ascertained — ... —
Total 1055
277
CAPACITY AXD STATE OF THE PBIBON.
Males. Females.
Constructed to contain 192 ... —
Greatest number at any one time . 123 ... 43
Daily average number in the year,
mole and female 92
Total
315
135
PUNISHMENTS FOB OFFENCES IN PBISON.
Males. Females.
Whipping — ... —
Irons or handcuffs — ... —
Solitary or dark cells 1 ... 1
Stoppage of Diet 77 ... 6
Other punishments 4 ... —
Total,
82
ESTABLISHMENT OF OFFICERS.
Males. Females,
Governor and Deputy 2 ... —
Chaplain 1 ... —
Surgeon 1 ... —
Clerk and Schoolmaster 2 ... —
Schoolmistress — ... 1
Upper warders'matron 2 ... i
Under warders 9 ... 1
Otbw sub-officers 4 ... —
Total
21
3
HOUSE OF DETENTION, CLERKENWELL.
STATE OF EDUCATION OF FEMADE PEISONEES COMMITTED TO NEWGATE FOE TEIAD.
No. of previous convictions.
Neither
Supe-
read nor
Sead onlj.
Imperfect.
Well.
Total.
0
3
d and
write.
over.
October
7
1
8
2
18
2
1
November
5
7
7
1
20
2
2
3
December
5
1
2
8
January
1
2
10
13
2
1
i
February
6
1
2
3
12
...
1
1
March
6
3
6
1
16
1
• ••
1
April
4
4
3
11
• ••
• • •
May
1
i
5
2
9
• « •
June
4
3
5
1
13
3
...
July
6
6
11
23
2
August
3
2
3
1
9
1
• • •
September
6
1
4
1
11
...
Totals
53
28
67
15
163
13
4
7
t Ü.—a
COUNTY ROUSE OF RETENTION, ULEREEN WELL.
We were admitted within the prison walls by a door near to the large front gate, and were
shown the books of the gate warder, a smart and energetic officer, which were most carefully
kept. Crossing the courtyard, we entered the pillared portal of the prison, and were led
into the presence of the governor, who requested the deputy-governor to conduct us over the
establishment.
As we enter the prison, on our right hand is the office of the clerk, and opposite to it
a door leading to the reception ward of the female prison. Beyond this is a flight of steps
on our right hand, leading down to the stores on the basement, and on the other side of the
passage is a winding staircase leading up to the committee room for the visiting justices.
Farther into the interior is the waiting-room for visitors, and adjoining is the governor's
office.
On onr left hand is the warders' mess-room, along with three waiting-rooms for the
attorneys who visit the prisoners, with a view to conduct their defence.
Reception Ward.—There are eight reception cells here, four on each side of the pas¬
sage, beyond the offices already mentioned. As seen by a reference to the ground plan, the
outer cells are widest, and gradually contract towards the innermost one, which is near to
the central hall. We found the dimensions of the outermost eeU to be nineteen feet two
inches in length, flve feet eight inches in width, and nine feet at the bottom, and ten feet at
the top of the arch. It is floored with asphalt, like the others, and beautifully white¬
washed. The innermost cell is eight feet four inches long, and five feet eight inches wide,
and of the same height as the one referred to. Each of them is lighted by a window three
feet six inches long, and one foot four inches wide, and is ventilated by a flap in the centre
of the wdndow, and from a shaft near the top of the window for cold air, and a grating in
the comer of the cell near the door, which admits warm air through a flue.
GROUND PLAN OF COUNTY HOUSE OF DETENTION, CLERKENWELL.
K. àO. Hale Wlnga.
B. F«3iale Wings.
D. Central Hall.
B. Paasagea In the InU^rior.
v. Ooveruor's Uuusu.
G. Garden attached to the same.
H. Portor'a Lcxlge.
I. R OlHceH attached to it.
Ij. Entry to Fe ma I o Corrido ra
M. Cleik'süfhce.
N. Warder's Mess-room.
O. P. Waiting-rooms.
Q. Attorney's Rooms
R. Keceution Colls.
8. T. Colls for tlie Refractory.
W. Governor's Office.
X. Entry to Main building.
Y. Large Prison Gate,
a. b. e. Exorcising Yards.
HOUSE GE DETENTION, CLERKENWELL.
613
While visiting these reception cells, a number of warders, in their blue uniforms, were
bustling in the long hall preparing to conduct two files of prisoners to the prison vans for
trial at the Sessions. One or two of these were respectably dressed, and had been charged
with embezzlement. They did not appear to feel very comfortable when ranked up in line
with a band of felons. Among the group we discerned one or two sturdy labourers, in their
white smock-frocks, and could trace the quick clear eye and roguish look of the hahitnal
felon. As one band was conducted into the prison van, and whirled off, a policeman being
seated in front, another detachment was brought from the interior of the prison, and took
its place in another van, which also drove off.
We descended to the basement, and found eleven other reception cells, each about half the
size of an ordinary cell. They had no furniture except a seat, fixed into the wall. Along¬
side were seven baths for the prisoners, about the same dimensions as the latter reception
cells, in addition to a hath for the warders, and one for the governor.
The reception warder informed us : " The prisoners are received here from the cormty of
Middlesex and the metropolitan police courts on this side of the river, with the exception of
those in the city. They consist of prisoners on remand, or for trial at the Middlesex
Sessions ; person in default of hail, deserters from the army, and cabmen for infringing the
Hackney Carriage Act. They are generally brought here in vans from the police-courts
referred to, or from the county, being occasionally escorted hither by the police. Each
constable brings a commitment along with the prisoner, which is handed over to me.
" The prisoners are brought from the van to the outer hall of the prison. The seijeantin
charge states the number he has in custody, and from what courts they have come, which is
duly entered, after which they are lodged meanwhile in the reception cells above. So soon
as the vans have all arrived from the different courts, the prisoners are taken down to the
basement, when they are thoroughly searched, their property taken from them, and their
names and ages carefuUy set down. They are then taken to the bath-rooms and cleansed, aftér
which they are formed in line, and the rules of the prison read to them.* After this routine
they are brought up into the centre of the prison, and distributed to their several wards.
* Eules Relatino to the Conduct and Treatment of Prisoners, certified as proper to be enforced
pursuant to the 5tH and 6tH Wm. IV., cap. 38, and the 2nD and 3rD ViC., cap. 56.
Prisoners Committed for Trialr—for Pxamination^-or want of Sureties, and those Committed as Deserters,
or under ike Mackney Carriage Act,
1. All prisoners shaU, on admission, be placed in a separate cell. They shall he strictly searchedhy the
governor, or hy an ofiScer appointed hy him for that purpose, or hy the matron and a female officer, or hy two
female officers appointed as aforesaid, if a female prisoner. All knives, sharp instruments, dangerous
■weapons, or articles calculated to facilitate escape, or otherwise desirable in the discretion of the governor
to he removed, shall he taken from them ; all money and other effects brought in with them, or subsequently
sent in for their use and benefit, shall he taken care of for them. The governor shall take charge of such
money and effects, and make an inventory of them, to he entered in the prisoners' property hook.
2. Every prisoner shall he examined hy the surgeon before being passed into his or her proper cell ;
having been examined, they shall he cleansed in a warm or cold bath, as the surgeon may direct. The hair
of female prisoners shall only be cut in cases when necessary for the removal of dirt, or the extirpation of
vermin, or when the medical officer deems it requisite on the ground of health ; male prisoners shall he
shaved at least once a week, and their hair out when necessary for the preservation of health and cleanliness.
No prisoner shall he st.-ipped or bathed in the presence of any other prisoner.
3. The wearing apparel of every prisoner shall he fumigated and purified ; and if the surgeon thinks it
necessary, wearing apparel may he burned. Prisoners before trial may wear tfieir own clothes, if sufficient
and proper ; hut if the wearing apparel of prisoners before trial he insufficient, improper, or necessary to be
preserved for the purposes of juctice, such prisoners may he furnished with a plain suit of coarse cloth,
4. As convenient places for the prisoners to wash themselves are provided, with a sufficient allowance of
water, soap, towels, and combs, every prisoner shall he required to wash thoroughly once a day, and his feet
at least once in every week.
5. Every prisoner shall he provided with a separate hammock, in a separate cell. Every prisoner shall
614
THE GKEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
*' In the event of any of their garments being in a bad condition, a suit of prison cloth¬
ing is furnished them, consisting of a dark blue jacket, vest, and trowsers, and good under
clothing. Their own clothes being restored to them on their liberation.
be provided with sufficient bedding for warmth and health ; and, when ordered by the surgeon, with two
sheets aud a pillow in addition. The whole shall be kept properly clean.
6 No tobacco shall ho admitted for the use of any prisoner, except by written order of the surgeon.
7. No prisoner shall be permitted to see any visitor out of the place appropriated forthat purpose, except
in special cases under a written order, signed by a visiting justice ; and in the case of prisoners seriously ill,
by a written order of the governor and surgeon. Male prisoners are to be visited in the presence of the
governor or subordinate officer ; female prisoners in the presence of the matron or other female officer. This
rule is not to extend to prisoners when they see their legal advisers. The governor may require the name
and address of persons presenting themselves as visitors, and when he has any grounds for suspicion, may
search, or cause to be searched, male visitors ; and may direct the matron, or some other female officer, to
search female visitors ; such search, whether of male or female visitors, not to be in the presence of any
prisoner ; and in case of any visitor refusing to be searched, the governor may deny him or her admission to
the prison.
8. An}' near relation or friend may be allowed to see a prisoner dangerously ill, under an order in writing,
signed by the governor and surgeon.
9. Any prisoner of a religious persuasion differing from that of the Established Church, may, on request
to the governor, be visited by a minister of his persuasion on Sundays, or on any other days, at such reason¬
able hours as may not interfere with the good order of the prison ; the name and address of such minister to
be left in the governor's office, and to be communicated by him to the visiting justices. Any books which
such minister may wish to supply to the prisoners of their persuasion, must be first submitted to a visiting
justice for approval.
10. No prisoner shall receive or send any parcel, or receive any food, clothing, or other articles, without
previous inspection by the governor, or by an officer appointed by him.
11. Officers on duty shall attend to complaints of prisoners, and report the same forthwith to the governor.
12. If a prisoner complain of illness, the case shall be reported without delay to the governor and
surgeon.
13. All prisoners shall regularly attend Divine Service, unless prevented by illness, or permitted to be
absent by the governor or a visiting justice.
14. Prisoners of the Established Church shall be provided with books and tracts of religions, moral, and
useful insti-uction, under the directions of the chaplain ; and prisoners of persuasions differing from the
Established Church, under the direction of the visiting justices. Each prisoner who can read shall be furnished
with a Bible and Common Prayer Book in his cell.
15. All prisoners are bound to obey the rules of the prison, and the lawful orders of the governor and
other officers, and not to treat with disrespect any of the officers ; nor to be absent from Divine Service, unless
prevented by illness, or excused ; they are to behave properly during its performance; they are not to be
guilty of swearing, or of indecent or disorderly conduct ; nor to commit any kind of nuisances, nor wilfully
damage any bedding, any part of the prison, or any article or property therein.
16. Singing, whistling, or shouting in the cells, rooms, or yards, is strictly prohibited ; and the following
are declared to be acts of disorder, and to be punishable as such, viz. :—Any attempt to barter or exchange
provisions ; any marking, defacing, or injuring the doors, walls, or chairs, tables, clothes, bedding, books, or
utensils whatsoever, of the prison ; any secreting of money, tobacco, or forbidden articles ; any purloining,
or contriving to purloin, provisions, books, combs, or any other article ; or any wilful disobedience of such
orders of the governor or officers of the prison as shall be in accordance with law and the rules of the prison.
The governor may examine any persons touching such offences, and may determine thereupon, and may
punish all such offences by ordering any offender to close confinement in a refractory or solitary cell, and by
keeping sucli offender on bread and water only, for any term not exceeding three days ; but he shall not
determine any of these cases without previous examination ; neither shall he delegate his authority in these
matters to any other person. No punishments or privations of any kind shall be awarded, except by the
governor.
17. Prisoners going to chapel, to the airing yards, or to any other part of the prison, shall be attended by
one or more officers, and silence maintained.
18. Prisoners shall make their own beds, and clean their own cells. Prisoners shall not be compelled to
work or labour, but may have the option of employment. But nothing in this rule shall prevent the governor
from requiring prisoners of these classes to make their own beds; and clean the cells, wards, yards, and
passages of the division of the prison to which they belong.
I'J, Prisoners shall be permitted to maintain themselves, and to procure and to receive at proper hours, a
HOUSE OF DETENTION, OLERKENWELL.
615
" With reference to their discharge," he added, "the warders of the different divisions
copy from the commitments the date of release of each prisoner. There are some discharged
every morning. At a quarter-past nine o'clock in the morning, each warder brings out such
prisoners, who are ranged in line. A list is futoished to the reception warder, from which
reasonable quantity of cooked provisions, and malt liquor not exceeding one pint in any one day of tvrenty-
four hours; and any linen, clothing, or other necessaries (subject to a strict search, and under such regulations
as may be deemed expedient, in order to prevent extravagance and luxury in a prison), and such articles so
procvtred, may be paid for out of the monies belonging to such prisoners in the hands of the governor. No
part of such food, malt liquor, or other articles, shall be given, sold to, or exchanged with any other prisoner ;
and any prisoner transgressing this rule shall be prohibited from procuring any food, other than the prison
allowance, or other articles, for such a period as a visiting justice may direct.
20. Prisoners shall not receive the prison allowance of food on the days whereon they procure or receive
food from their friends under the foregoing rule.
21. Prisoners who do not maintain themselves shall receive the regular prison allowance of food.
22. Prisoners shall be permitted to see their relations or friends on any week day, without any order
between the hours of twelve and two in the afternoon; and at any other time on a week day, by an order in
writing from a visiting or committing justice, unless a visiting or committing magistrate shall have issued an
order to the contrary, or unless the governor shall know sufficient cause why any person should not be
admitted, in which case the name of the applicant, together with the name of the prisoner whom he applied
to visit, and the date of the refusal, shall be entered by him in his journal. But no prisoner shall be allowed
to see more than two visitors on any one day, nor shall any visitor be allowed to remain longer than twenty
minutes with a prisoner, without the especial permission of the governor, in which case the extended visit
shall be considered as a second visit to the prisoner. The names and addresses of all such visitors, with the
relationship to the prisoner, if any, shall he inserted in a book to be kept for that purpose; and the prisoners
shall be permitted to see tbeir legal adviser (by which is to be understood a certificated attorney or his autho¬
rized clerk) on any day at any reasonable hour, and in private if required. Prisoners may write or receive
letters, to be inspected by the governor, except any confidential written communication prepared as instruc¬
tions for tlieir legal adviser; such paper to be delivered personally to the legal adviser or his authorized clerk,
without being previously examined by any officer of the prison ; but all such written communications, not
personally delivered to the legal adviser or his clerk, are to be considered as letters, and are not to be sent
out of the prison without heing previously inspected by the governor. Any person presenting himself for
admission as the clerk of an admitted attorney, shall in the absence of his principal, produce to the governor,
in such case, evidence (satisfactory to such governor) of his being such an accredited agent; and the legal
adviser or his clerk shall name the prisoner whom he wishes to visit.
23. Any person bringing or attempting to bring into the prison, contrary to the rules, any spirituous or
fermented liquor, may be apprehended and takeu before a police magistrate, and upon conviction, committed
to prison for three months, unless such offender shall immediately pay down such sum of money, not
exceeding twenty pounds, nor less than ten pounds, as the magistrate shall impose.
24. Every prisoner in separate confinement shall be supplied with the means of enabling him to commu¬
nicate at any time with an officer of the prison.
25. Every prisoner shall be supplied with, and have the option of employment.
26. Every prisoner shall be furnished with the means of moral and religious iustruction, and with snitahle
books.
27. Every prisoner shall have the means of daily taking as much exercise in the open air as the medical
officer shall deem necessary.
28. The governor shall cause copies of such of the rules as relate to the treatment and conduct of the
prisoners (printed in legible characters) to be fixed up in each cell, and the same shall be read to each
prisoner within twenty-four hours after admission.
29. Prisoners committed for want of sureties, on summary orders, and deserters, shall he allowed to
associate in the exercise yard for three hours daily, should the weather or other circumstances permit ; in
other respects they shall be treated as prisoners for trial or for examination.
30. If the governor shall at any time deem it improper or inexpedient for a prisoner to associate with
the other prisoners of the class to which he or she may belong, it shall be lawful for him to confine such
prisoner with any other class or description of prisoners, or in any other part of the prison, until he can
receive the directions of a visiting justice thereon, to whom he shall apply with as little delay as possible, and
who, in every such instance, shall ascertain whether the reasons assigned by the governor warrant such
deviation from the established rules, and shall give such orders in writing as he shall think fit, under the
oircumstances of the particular case.
616
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
ho calls out the different names, and ascertains if he has the right prisoners, and the courts to
which thcj- are to be forwarded. They are then passed by the clerk in the office, and the
commitments handed to the police seijeant in the van."
*#* Central Hall.—There is a bright iron gate, in addition to a wooden door, leading
from the main building in front into the inner hall. We observe on our right hand a
brass tablet recording that the foundation stone of this prison was laid by the most noble
the Marquis of Salisbury, on the 4th May, 1846. The central hall has a lofty octagonal
roof, lighted from a series of skylights, and by long narrow windows at the extremities of
the corridors. There is a spiral staircase communicating with the corridor in front, termed
the second division, consisting of three stories with two galleries, named respectively D, E, F.
On our right hand is the corridor of the first division, termed A, B, C, and directly opposite
is the corridor of the third division, styled G, H, I, the first and second divisions being
parallel with the two wings of the female prison in front. The general arrangements of the
corridors are so similar to those at Pentonville and other prisons we have already sketched,
that a farther description is unnecessary. The central hall and corridors are floored with
stone and not with asphalt as at Hollo way.
As we looked around us, several of the warders in their blue uniforms, with their stand-
up collars, ornamented with three sabres on a brass shield, as at Coldbath Fields, were lin¬
gering in the central hall, or busy over the galleries, while a number of prisoners were
kneeling down beside their pails washing, or stoning the floor. Everything around us had
the active, vigorous air of military discipline.
%• Chapel.—Meanwhile the beU rang for chapel service, and we went up a staircase
leading to the governor's seat, alongside the pulpit, as at Holloway Prison. There was only a
solitary warder then present, and not a single prisoner could be seen in any of the pews,
which sloped upwards along the extensive gallery beneath us. Soon after, a file of prisoners,
some of them considerably advanced in life, entered the pews at the back of the gallery, and
at the same time a troop of boys occupied those in front. While the male prisoners were
assembling, the female portion was coming into the chapel and occupying another gallery
behind and above, quite out of sight of the male prisoners ; and shortly after the seats were
well filled with a numerous audience. Two female warders sat behind the female prisoners,
and two male warders took their station on each side of the males. The congregation was
of a very motley character. Most of the females were very plainly dressed, and from their
appearance and manners, we could easily discern they belonged to the lower order of society.
Many of them had coarse masculine features, and were Englishwomen, and not Irish
cockneys. We did not see a single pretty girl among them, like some of those we found
in Holloway Prison. The generality of the boys were poor and ragged, some of them were
very keen eyed and restless in their manner ; others were apparently the children of decent
parents. The men were very different in their character, one man had the appearance of a
swell, with his auburn whiskers stylishly cut, and his locks nicely adjusted over his fine
forehead. Another man, in middle life, with a very corpulent paunch, sat before him,
dressed in a suit of corduroy. We noticed a silver-headed man in a brown overcoat, who
had evidently seen better days.
While we were penning these notes, a neighbouring steeple clock struck the hour in deep
solemn tone, which was followed by the sharp tinkling sound of the beU within the prison.
A flush of interest broke over the countenances of the prisoners as they heard the hour
announced. Soon after the chaplain entered in his white gown, followed by an elderly
warder, who officiated as clerk. During the devotional exercises, most of the prisoners
leaned forward on the seat in front of them. The corpulent man, in corduroy, bent his
head almost to his knees. Some of the little boys beneath us bent forward, with their hands
HOUSE OF DETENTION, CLERKENWELL.
617
over their face, while others sat erect with a composed look, or were looking restlessly
about them. A little fair-haired hoy, of about twelve years of age, particularly caught our
attention. As we looked on his open, frank, winning face, we were sorry to find him among
the little felons around him. One lad sat leering to another beside him, in great indifference.
Another hoy sat beside him dressed in a dark pinafore, with a very firm yet haggard coun¬
tenance, who looked as if he had been sadly wronged by the home influences which had sur¬
rounded him. A young man of colour sat at the end of the seat beside them, with a very
meek expression of countenance, alongside of a little pert urchin of seven years of age, with a
peculiarly restless manner.
As we glanced at the grown-up male prisoners, a particularly good-looking young man
caught our attention, with a finely formed thoughtful countenance. In the middle of the
throng we saw a Pole, a sallow-looking man with a very grim aspect. A gentle looking
young man, a pickpocket, was seated by the side of a calm, deternfined burglar, evidently
an Irish cockney. While a few prisoners of more respectable appearance were to be seen in
a range of stalls at the back of the gallery, reserved for the better order.
Daring the service, the prisoners appeared to become more absorbed and thoughtful.
Many of them leaned over on the seats in front, and some looked at their service books.
This was a very interesting sight, and of a peculiar character, as here we did not see
them masked in prison dress, but in their own clothing and marked individuality, as they
are to be seen in the public streets.
\* The Kitchen.—We visited the apartments on the basement, where several prisoners
are employed as carpenters, blacksmiths, and painters, connected with the establishment,
and having nothing of special interest to record, we passed on to the kitchen, which is about
thirty-six feet by twenty-seven. The flooring is of stone, and the roof is built with brick,
supported on iron girders and pillars. There are two tables in the centre, for trays and
shining tins, along with two dressers. The kitchen is provided with a steam apparatus, and
several coppers, one for soup, another for gruel, in addition to a large steamer for preparing
meat. There are three small coppers—one for cocoa, a second for potatoes, and one for
making beef-tea for the infirmary.*
Behind the kitchen is a scullery for washing the tins and trays ; it is about twenty-one
feet square, and contains several dressers, a sink for washing, and a copper to provide hot
water. It is paved with stone, the roof being also supported on pillars.
• DAILY DIET LIST.
Frisoners committed for 3 months
and upwards.
Male and Female Adnlts.
Under 3 Months.
Male Adults.
Under 3 Months.
Female Adults.
Males and Females
nnder 17 Tears of Age.
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Sunday ...
Monday ...
Tuesday ...
Wednesday
Thursday.
Friday
Saturday...
oz.
20
20
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1
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6
6
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8
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pints
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"i
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N.B.—Prisoners not receiving such allowance, are allowed to provide for themselves ; and all Prisoners
are allowed to be visited by their friends, from 12 till 2 daily, Sundays excepted.
45
618
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
The cook and his assistants commence duty at 7.30 in the moming; breakfast is sent
up at 8.30, dinner at 2, and supper at 5.30, ending the operations for the day at 6 o'clock.
'J'he cook in his turn, along with the warders, officiates on night duty.
Visiting the Cells.—We accompanied the chief warder to one of the cells in the first
division, and found it to be 11 feet long, 7 feet wide, and 8 feet 8 inches high. It is
ventilated near the top of the window, and through another iron grating near the floor, at
the side of the door, and has a brick roof, and flooring of asphalt. Each of these ceUs is
furnished with a smaU table, a three-legged stool, a stone night utensil, an iron wash basin,
and a coir hammock, kept strapped during the day on two hooks in the wall, and has three
triangular shelves for food, utensils, &c. A copy of the rules of the prison is suspended on
the wall, with prayers for morning and evening. The door has a trap by which the food is
tiansmitted, in the interior of which is a light iron screen, through which the prisoners are
permitted on certain occasions to have communication with their friends. There is also a
small circular inspection plate. On the exterior of the door is suspended a small tin case,
like an envelope, containing the prisoner's card, with his name, offence, &c. The ordinary
cells over the various corridors are of the same dimensions, and similarly furnished.
The chief warder informed us " that in the first and second division—A, B, C, D, E, F,
were confined parties on remand and for trial at the Middlesex Sessions, while in the third
division—G, H, I, were deserters, persons in default of sureties, and cabmen incarcerated
under the Hackney Carriage Act.
He stated the A division contained fifty-seven cells, exclusive of a padded one, and three
special cells fitted up differently.
We entered one of those speeial eells. The ehief warder remarked, " You see the gas
jiipe is removed, and a wire-screen is inserted into one of the panes of the window for
ventilation, in addition to the apparatus in the ordinary cells. The light is admitted through
a glass pane over the door, out of the prisoner's reach. These eells are used for persons
M ho are committed for having attempted to commit suicide.
We went into a padded cell, where a prisoner had been recently confined, who had been
suffering under delirium tremens when admitted into the prison. In his frenzy he had torn
the wire-sereen over the door of his cell, broke the pane of glass, and wrenched off the gas-
]iipes, in an insane attempt to get out of his cell. This cell is of the ordinary size, and is
fitted up with coir, packed into the strongest canvas, attached to the walls like panelling.
There is a wire-screen over the window, and the fiooring is of wood, covered with a thick
stuffed coir mattress, for the safety of the prisoner, when in his violent paroxysms. On
proceeding into one of the special cells referred to, we saw the wretched inmate, a man of
about fifty years of age, who appeared to be a strong-built labouring man. He was now in a
convalescent condition, and stated to us " he had recovered his spirits, and was beginning to
feel in a more hopeful and bright condition of mind."
As we ascended the staircase leading up into one of the galleries of this corridor, we
found a stout lad of about fourteen years of age, dressed in a blue guernsey, and corduroy
trowsers, engaged in cleaning. He was confined for threatening his mother-in-law, and
appeared to be robust and resolute. The chief warder remarked to us, " Some of the
prisoners volunteer to assist in cleaning the prison ; some repair shoes, others work as smiths,
carpenters, or painters. We cannot compel any of them to labour, farther than to clean
their cells."
On going into another cell, we saw the poor coloured man we had noticed in the chapel.
He is charged with a petty felony, to which he had been driven by extreme want. He
stated he had been a cook on board a vessel, the "Ann," of London, which had been sold
off , and he was thereby cast out of employment, and was here a stranger in a foreign land.
He belonged to Halifax, North America. His clothes were in a wretched state, and his
shoes were hanging in shreds.
HOUSE OF DETENTION, CLERKENWELL.
619
In an adjoining cell we found a sharp-featured, pale-faced boy, about fourteen years of
age, attired in a drab over-coat, who bad been committed the previous day for secreting
himself in a railway train. The chief warder, on entering, remarked, " You will hear his
story ; it is worth the while." The lad stated—" He was an apprentice at a spoon and fork
manufactory at Sheffield. His master was cruel to him, and he ran away from his employ¬
ment. His father and mother wished to compel him to stay, hut he went into a second class
carriage on the Midland Railway, and proceeded to London. On being asked for his ticket
by the guard, he pretended he had lost it, and was allowed to proceed to the metropolis,
whereupon he was taken into custody. He was to he permitted to write home to his rela¬
tions to acquaint them with his misfortune."
On visiting another cell we saw a profoundly-affecting scene, not uncommon in our
detentional prisons. We found a fine-looking genteel hoy, with beautiful English features.
He had an oval face, blue eye, rosy cheek, and curly hair. He was about twelve years of
age, dressed in a dark faded overcoat, and had been charged with stealing from a till. He
was very poorly clad, and his shoes were in a wretched condition. He had been urged to
steal by two young convicted thieves, who had made him their tool in the business, while
they had adroitly managed to escape. Soon after, his mother, a careworn, poverty-stricken
woman of about thirty-five years of age, came in, and was in extreme anguish when she saw
her little hoy. He burst into tears at the sight of his broken-hearted mother, but soon
appeared to forget his own distress in her presence. The poor woman was convulsed
with agony too deep for tears, and looked as if her heart would break. She pressed her
hands to her throbbing temples, and seized hold of our arm to prevent herself from falling.
She was led away to a seat outside the door of the cell, and was sitting there in silent
anguish as we passed along the gallery.
We proceeded with the chief warder to the central corridor, termed the second division
of the male prison, containing about seventy cells. He observed, " We have six strong cells
for prisoners who have attempted to escape from prison, or are otherwise desperate characters."
On being shown into one of them, we found that in addition to the ordinary iron-framed
window there were iron bars on the exterior, and the door was plated in the interior with
iron. On looking into several of the cells as we passed along, we did not see anything worthy
of special notice.
On visiting the corridor of the third division we got a farther glimpse into the romance
of our London prisons, where fact frequently transcends the singular and startling recitals
of fiction. We went into a cell where we found an old bald-headed man, with silver hair,
bending on his seat, apparently absorbed in some deep and consuming sorrow. He was
wrinkled and careworn, and had a long thin face, with a dreamy imbecility in his eye,
occasionally kindling into sudden fiashes of energy. He was dressed in a shabby worn
greatcoat with a velvet coUar, a dark spotted vest, and corduroy trowsers. He told us
he was a native of Colchester, in Essex, and had loved a woman about forty years ago, but
the correspondence between them had been broken off. It seems some wags in Colchester,
who knew the weakness of the frail old man, told him, by way of a practical joke, that his
Dulcinea resided in London, in a certain locality. He came to London with £17 in his
pocket, on a sentimental journey to see her. He endeavoured to force himself into a house
to see the object of his affections, against the wish of the inmates, and was given into the
hands of the police. He stated he .was a farmer in comfortable circumstances, and that his
brother was also a large farmer residing near Colchester.
As we passed along one of the galleries we saw a remarkably fine-looking old man,
who had been a soldier in the Grenadier Guards, confined for assaulting his wife. He is in
custody for six months, as he could not find security for his better behaviour. He was
assisting one of the warders.
In another cell we observed a young Irish lad, of about nineteen years of age, in a very
620
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
shabby tattered dress, like a wretched beggar. He told us be was a gunner in the Artillery,
but bad for a time deserted, and been labouring as a cooper in the metropolis. At last
be got wearied of it and gave himself up as a deserter to return to bis former military ser¬
vice. llow a man could exchange the comfortable dress of an artilleryman and bis cleanly
habits, for a life of squalor and rags, is one of those enigmas which cannot be easily ex¬
plained even by those who know the wild freedom of low life in London ! On a subsequent
day we saw two fine-looking young artillerymen come to the prison to escort their prodigal
companion back to his old quarters.
In an adjoining cell we found a Polish refugee, a stern-looking man, beneath the middle
size, whom we had particularly observed in the chapel. He was a soldier in the PoKsh
service up to the year 1830, and had come to Portsmouth with a large detachment of exiles.
He now works as a shoemaker. He is in custody for trying to force his way into the pre¬
sence of the secretary of the Polish Refugee Association.
In another cell, through the inspection plate, we saw rather a notable character, in his
way. We had, in our boyhood, heard him address a Scotch constituency, as a candidate for
representation of the Montrose Burghs. He was then a handsome young man, who had just
written a book (little known) on the French Revolution ; and no doubt aspired to great future
eminence. Even then he appeared to be rather a crochetty individual, and to be wanting in
solid judgment. But how is the picture changed now ? See him here in his cell, a blighted
being, attired in a shabby dark dress, his countenance the picture of morbid melancholy !
The chief warder observed—" He was detained here twelve months for threatening a Scotch
Member of Parliament. At the expiry of that time, being unable to find bail for his future
conduct, he has been subjected to other twelve months' imprisonment."
Exercising Grounds.—Before leaving the male prison we visited the various exer¬
cising grounds. Two of them are situated at the back of the prison, on each side of the
central wing, which is at right angles to the other two wings of the male branch of the
establishment. The prisoners we saw here consisted of persons committed for examination
and for trial ; but as we gave a description of their general appearance during the chapel
service, we need not enter into any further detail here. They marched around their circles,
similar to the other prisons, under the supervision of several warders. A smart young man,
dressed as a sailor, was pointed out to us as a beggar. The chief warder informed us he had
burned his arm with caustic, or other chemical ingredient, to create a sore in order to excite
the compassion of the public, and had thereby efiectually disabled himself in a more serious
manner than he had intended. We observed the corpulent man in corduroy going round
an inner circle with the little boys. He was an hostler at a public house, and had inflated
himself with large potations of porter. He was very unwieldy in his movements.
We went into the smaller exercising ground for prisoners for want of sureties, committed
as deserters, or confined under the Hackney Carriage Act. We found a cluster of cabmen of a
poorer set walking in company in the square enclosure ; and three young deserters generally
kept together. We saw the old romantic lover in the brown overcoat, walking quietly, and
with melancholy air, apparently engrossed with his own thoughts. The PoUsh refugee,
equipped in a cap and dark coat, walked solitary, looking keenly around him at his com¬
panions in tribulation ; and the would-be M.P., already referred to, promenaded with his
hands in his trowsers pockets. He was attired in a dark frockcoat and warm muffler, and
was having a quiet interview with the tall old Grenadier guardsman.
To look on the plain exterior of this motley group, who could dream of the romantic events,
and eventful changes of their lives, so little apparent to the superficial eye !
HOUSE OF DETENTION, CLERKENWELL.
621
The Female Frison.
The female prison extends on each side of the front of the prison as seen in the engrav¬
ing given in an earlier part of this work, the two wings being connected together, and
forming a continuous line in the upper galleries, over the entrance hall of the central main
building. We entered the female prison by a door on the left hand, opposite to the clerk's
office, and were introduced to the matron of the establishment, who desired an experienced
female officer to conduct us over the interior.
Reception Ward.—We passed down to the basement by a staircase, leading to the
reception hall. There are ten reception cells, five on one side of the ward, and five on the
other, alongside of each other. They are about the same dimensions as those on the base¬
ment of the male prison, and are furnished with a water-closet in one comer, and a seat in
another. There is a handle inside communicating with a signal plate outside the cell. A
current of fresh air is admitted through a ventilating apparatus near the top of the cell
beside the window.
On the other side of this ward there are four bath-rooms, each containing a composition
bath about five feet nine inches long, two feet three inches wide, and two feet four inches
deep, with a footboard. Those rooms in the interior of the ward are about the size of an
ordinary cell, but those towards the exterior are only three feet wide, and about the size of
the reception cells. There is an additional zinc bath. Each bath is supplied with hot and
cold water by a cistern heated by a furnace at the outer extremity of the reception ward.
Adjoining the latter bath is a room with an asphalt floor, where prisoners are searched.
Contiguous to these there are two dark punishment cells furnished simply with an iron
bedstead. The female warder observed to us, "We seldom have any female prisoners
confined here.'
On the basement there is a small store. We observed two large presses on one side ol
the room, one of them containing the winter, and the other the summer clothing of the
prisoners, which is of a lighter description. The female prisoners' clothing consists of a
woollen linsey jacket and skirt, a flannel petticoat, and chemise, blue worsted stockings, a
checked cotton handkerchief for the neck, worn underneath the jacket, and a pair of leather
shoes. "Insummer," added the warder, " the outer dress is of cotton instead of wooUen."
*jf.* The Laundry,—It is situated on the basement in front of the governor's house, in
the eastern wing of the female prison. It contains a large copper with taps to admit cold
water, and discharge hot water. There are five boxes with two washing troughs in each,
supplying hot and cold water, with a footboard in front, and in the farther extremity of this
apartment are seven drying-horses similar to those we found in Newgate female prison. The
laundry is about thirty-three feet long and thirteen feet wide. In an adjoining room there
is a mangle, with a dresser for folding the clothes. Bundles of garments and bedding were
piled on the floor.
There is also a wringing machine, as in the laundries at Wandsworth and Newgat'-.
Another apartment is contiguous, in which the clothes are ironed and folded, containing a
stove for heating the irons. The warder informed us, " There are generally six prisoners
employed here daily." At the time of our visit the laundry was deserted, and not a single
prisoner was to be seen.
*#* The Corridor, etc.—The two wings of the female prison, although apparently divided
by the main building on the exterior, form one long corridor in the interior. There is a slaio
622
THE GEEAT WOELD OF LONDON.
pLitibrm, about sixty feet wide, stretching across the first gallery of the corridor from the fe-
niuh- warders' dressing-room to two doors leading up by two staircases to the gallery in thechapel,
where the female prisoners are congregated. Another slate platform across the gallery above
is only nine feet wide. On the lower gallery there is a large hall thirty feet long and twenty-
one feet wide, where the bail prisoners exercise, and where the other prisoners occasionally
walk in wet weather. It has a lofty ceiling, and the fioor is covered with coir matting.
The female warder informed us, " The female branch of the prison is divided into six
wards. A, B, C, D, E, F, in addition to ten reception cells. Amounting in aU to 112 cells."
On entering one of the cells in the corridor, we found it to be eleven feet five inches
long, six feet eleven inches wide, eight feet at the bottom, and eight feet ten inches at the
top of the arch. It is furnished similar to those in the male prison.
On going round several of the cells, we did not find any case of particular interest. The
most of the prisoners were confined for common offences.
AVe visited the exercising ground at the back of the left wing, and adjoining the exer¬
cising groTind for male prisoners in default of sureties, cabmen and deserters. It is ninety-
three feet long and thirty-nine feet wide, and is laid with pavement.
"We were furnished, on one of the days of our visit, with the following statement of the
prisoners then confined in the male and female branches of the prison :
Males
Females
I'or Sessions—
Trial
Eemands
Bails
Cabmen
Deserters
Total
166
70
236
Males.
39
99
19
G
3
Children
Trials
Eemands
Bails
Total
. 4
Females.
. 21
. 32
. 17
Total .
In Sessions—
Eemands .
Bails .
Cabmen
Deserters .
166
niSCHAKGED,
Males.
24
17
2
Total .
. 70
Females.
. 4
. 1
Males
Total
43
EEMAIKINO.
123 Females
Total
. 65
GENEEAL STATISTICS OE CLEEKENWELL DETENTIONAL PEISGN
Foe the Yeae ending Septbmbee 1860.
nümbee of peisonees.
Malea. Females.
For trial at Aseizes or Sessions 1170... 439
Siiniinary convictions — ... —
Want of sureties 577... 168
Ecrijunded and discharged 3595 ... 1534
Mutiny Act 20^ •••
Total commitments 5645 ... 2141
degeeb of instetjction.
Males. Females.
Neither read nor write 1281... 697
Eead, or read and write imperfectly 3414 ... 1301
Bead and write well 557 ... 113
Superior instruction 90... 30
Instruction not ascertained — ... —
Total 5342 ...2141
HORSEMONGER LANE JAIL.
623
PEBVI0U8LY OOMMITTBD TO ANT PEISON.
Once
Males.
Females.
719
... 294
Twice
252
... 105
Thrice . .. ,
104
... 72
Four times
55
... 65
Five times
94
50
Seven times, and above five
97
... 45
Ten times, and above seven
—
—
Above ten times
—
—
1321
... 631
AOE AND SEX.
Males.
Femslea.
Under twelve years
185
... 27
Twelve to sixteen
736
... 156
Sixteen to twenty-one
1210
... 450
Twenty-one to thirty
1558
... 684
Thirty to forty
849
... 439
Forty to fifty
547
... 269
Fifty to sixty
184
... 91
Sixty and above
73
... 25
Age not ascertained
—
—
Total
5342
... 2141
CAPACITY AND STATE OE THE PEISON.
Males. Females.
Constructed to contain 224 ... 100
Greatest number at one time .... 207 ... 99
Daily average in the year 208
CASES OF SICKNESS.
Males. Females.
Greatest number at one time 4 ... 5
Deaths 1 ... —
Infirmary cases 128 ... 48
Slight indisposition — ... —
Insanity — ... 2
Total 133 ... 55
PUNISHMENTS OP OFFENOES IN PEISON.
Males. Females.
Wliipping — ... —
Irons or handcuffs — ... —
Sohtary or dark cells 5 ... 1
Stoppage of diet 55 ... 8
Other punishments — ... —
Total 60 ... 9
ESTABLISHMENT OF OFFICEHS.
Males. Females.
Governor or deputy 2 ... —
Chaplain 1 ... —
Surgeon 1 ... —
Clerk or schoolmaster 1 ... —
Schoolmistress — ... —
Upper warders matron 11 ... 0
Under warders 7 ... 6
Other sub-offlbers — ... —
Total 23 ... 12
t iii.—o
EORSEMONQER LANE JAIL*
We approach the Surrey Detentional Prison by a narrow lane, leading from the bustliug
thoroughfare of Stone's-end. It is inclosed within a dingy brick wall, which almost screens
it from the public eye. "We enter the gateway of the flat-roofed building at the entrance of
the prison, on one side of which is the governor's office, and an apartment occupied by the
gate-warder, and on the other is a staircase leading up to a gloomy chamber, containing the
scaffold on which many a wretched criminal has been consigned to public execution.
Emerging from the gateway, the governor's house, a three-storied building, stands right in
front of us, on the other side of the courtyard, having a wing of the debtors' prison on each side,
all of them built of brick. We observed several officers of the prison in their blue uniforms,
with keys depending from their dark polished belts. The right wing of the prison contains
sheriffs' debtors, who maintain themselves, or are supported by their relatives and friends ;
* The Surrey County Jail, comm.nly called Horsemonger Lane Jail, is situate in the Parish of*St
Mary's, Newington, in the Parliamentary Borough of Lambeth, and in the East Half Hundred of Brixton, in
the said County.
G24
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
the left wing is set apart for county court debtors and those sheriffs' debtors who are
unable to do so. In front of each there is a portion of ground, seventy-four feet by fourteen,
laid with pavement, and covered with a low, flat, iron roof, where the debtors are frequently
seen promenading or loitering beside the lofty iron railings which fence it, surmounted by
formidable iron spikes. In the covered walk, before the right wing, the debtors had been
evidently in better pecuniary circumstances, to judge from their exterior. Some of them
looked like tradesmen, who had become embarrassed in their means. Others were like gay
men about town, with moustache and fashionable dress, who also had once seen better days.
On the other side, the debtors appeared to belong generally to a poorer class of society,
such as labourers, poor tradesmen, and others. Many of the debtors, particularly on the
wing to the right, seemed to have the easy air of strangers loitering at a watering-place.
The court-yard is flanked on the left hand by the infirmary, a detached building, contain¬
ing wards for debtors and criminals ; and is hounded on the right by the sessions' house, the
front of which faces Newington Causeway.
There is a carriage drive round the right wing of the debtors' prison to the criminal
prison, the wings of which are nearly in the form of a hollow square behind it. There is a
similar drive on the left side, leading past the infirmary to the female wards.
We enter an archway, opposite the sessions-house, leading to the male criminal prison, a
large massive gate, fenced on the top with iron bars. On our left hand is a small room,
occupied as an office by the chief warder, and on our right is a door leading into the recep¬
tion ward.
Reception Ward.—We were introduced to the reception warder, who showed us over
his department. The reception cells are situated behind the right wing of the debtors'
prison, and are parallel to it, being separated by a narrow court. On entering one of them
we found it to be eleven feet by seven feet four inches, and nine feet two inches at the
bottom, and ten feet at the top of the arch. It is lighted by a square window, four feet long
and two feet high. There are two shelves in an inner comer, containing a tin can, a salt¬
cellar, a spoon, towel, comb, and brush. The furniture further consists of a small deal tabic
and a small stool. In the comer opposite there is a basin, supplied with plenty of water, at
the pleasure of the prisoner, together with a piece of soap. The hammock is roUed up and
attached to a hook on the side of the cell. The gas-jet has an iron cover to protect it.
Eaék cell is floored with wood, and the walls are carefully whitewashed. A copy of the
rules and regulations of the prison is suspended for the use of the prisoner, with a prayer
for morning and another for evening, together with the Lord's Prayer. Notice is also given
that complaints relative to the conduct of any of the officers may he made by the prisoner to
the govemor, or to any magistrate visiting the gaol. There is a handle in the cell commu¬
nicating with the gong in the corridor, as in other prisons.
The cell is ventilated by an iron grating, near the floor, beside the door, through which a
current of heated air is admitted. It ascends through another iron grating at the roof of the
cell, communicating with the air-shaft on the top of the building. There is also a flap in the
window for the admission of fresh air.
There are eight reception cells, all of them roofed with brick. The doors are, each of
them, provided with a circular inspection plate, and a trap for introducing food, and also a
smaller trap, with wire screen, through which the prisoner may have an interview with his
friends. The corridor in the reception ward has not a groined roof, like the other corridors,
but is spanned with a round arch. It is situated on our left hand, as we enter the prison.
We enter the Baili-room, which is about eighteen feet by eighteen. This apartment is on
üiír right hand as we enter the male prison, and has a groined roof, supported in the centre
by strong stone pillars, three feet square. There is an iron grating over hot-air pipes, ex¬
tending across the room, beside the door, for the purpose of warmth and ventilation. Here
EXTERIOH OF H0RSEM0N6EB LÂNE JAIL.
GROUND PLAN OF HORSEMONGFR LANE JAIL.
A. Icflrmary.
B. Boys' Cells.
O. Laandry.
D. Women's Baths.
E. Women's '^Ide.
T. Visitors' Room.
0. Boys'Airimr Yard.
H. Women's Airing Yard,
1. Kitchen, etc.
J. Female Debtors' Yard.
K. Offices.
L. QoTemor'i Honse.
M. Chapel.
N. Sc>>ool>room.
0. Cells.
P. Men'e Airing Yard.
Q Court.
8. Master Debtors,
T. Men's Baths-
U. Female Debtors.
V, Common Debtors.
W. Men's Side.
X Airing Courts.
Y. Sessions' House,
626
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
we found two baths, five feet two inches long, two feet wide, and two feet deep, with
separate doors. They are supplied with hot and cold water. There are standard measures
here for ascertaining the height and weight of the prisoners, with a supply of prison elothing
for their use. The reception warder stated, " When a prisoner is admitted here, and has not
a proper suit of clothes, he is supplied with prison clothing, consisting of a blue vest, jacket,
and trowsers, with shirt and stockings, in addition, should he require them. He is also
furnished with two blankets, a pair of sheets, and a rug, as bedding."
There is a cistern here to supply the baths with hot water, with a furnace beneath. An
assortment of leg irons is suspended on the wall. The reception warder conducted us into
a small apartment on the basement, to which we descend by a flight of steps. Here there is
a machine, patented by Jeakes, G'eat Russell Street, Bloomsbury, to destroy vermin. We
saw several bundles of clothes in process of fumigation.
The Kitchen, etc.—We went to the kitchen, which is about twenty-seven feet square,
and is provided with four boilers and a large dresser. There is a large table in the centre,
for cutting up the meat, etc., and to contain the trays. The kitchen is floored with stone, and
lighted by a skylight. We noticed a food carriage, laden with trays of soup, meat, and
potatoes, ready to be served up for the prisoners' dinner. The soup was of excellent quality.
In one of the large boilers the soup had been made ready. In another the butchermeat was
prepared, and in a third the gruel was cooked for supper.
A small room off the kitchen is used as the warder's mess-room and scullery. It is fur¬
nished with a dresser, washing-trough, table, and forms, and is well lighted and ventilated.
On proceeding into the bread-room we found a great quantity of small loaves arranged
on shelves around the room, six ounces and eight ounces in weight—the one for male and
the other for female prisoners.
While we were present, a large quantity was brought into the prison by a baker, sent by
the tradesman who contracts to supply the prison. A quantity of fresh butchermeat was
hung on hooks around the wall.
The food trays are conveyed to the different corridors of the male prison by means of a
hoisting machine.
The Engineer.—We accompanied the engineer into a small apparatus-room at the extreme
corner of the A division, on the right hand, provided with Haden and Son's ventilating
apparatus. There is a large boiler above the furnace, where water is heated and conveyed
to a tank at the top of the prison. It descends through pipes, and travels along the corridors
beneath the flagstones, and afterwards returns to the boiler to be re-heated. Above the
furnace there are two iron cases, about six feet by four, alongside of each other. The fire,
after operating in the furnace, passes into the first case, then into the second, and from thence
ascends up the chimney. This generates an amount of heated air, which would be lost if
the cases were not applied, as otherwise it would go directly up the chimney. The air con¬
densed by these cases passes out into corridor A through a square grating over the door
of the furnace-room, and through two other gratings about two feet square.
There is another apparatus-room of the same kind at the opposite side of corridor A.
The engineer showed us into a cell in corridor A, and pointed out to us an iron grating
for ventilation near the door. He observed " this is for warming the cell during winter,
and for ventilation in summer." The cells are warmed by hot-water pipes that pass round
the basement, and are connected with the cistern already referred to at the roof of the
prison. He pointed out to us another grating on the groined roof of the cell, by which the
vitiated air is extracted. We accompanied him to the roof of the prison, and saw the cistern
where the heated water ascends from the boiler below, and descends into the basement
as before stated. He showed us the ventilating shaft, adjoining which two horizontal
extraction flues of triangular shape are connected. These horizontal flues are connected
ITORSEMONGER LANE JAIL.
627
witE the ventilating flues of the prison. They are about four feet in diameter at the base,
and two feet six inches at the apex. In this shaft is a ventilating apparatus, flve feet six
inches by two feet six inches. The shaft is about seven feet square, covered with a slate
roof supported on iron ribs. It is situated at the extreme corner on the left hand, and over¬
tops the rest of the building. There is a similar one at the right hand corner.
"We followed the engineer through a small square opening, and mounted on the roof of
the prison, where we had a commanding view of the various exercising grounds in the
interior, as well as of the widely extended buildings of the great metropolis, with its beetling
domes and spires. The engineer called our attention to four tanks on the roof of the
prison into which the water is pumped.
On descending from the roof of the prison, and passing along corridor A, we observed
fifteen circular iron gratings, about fifteen inches in diameter, for the purpose of admitting
heated air into the corridors from the pipes below.
Chapel.—We proceeded to the chapel, which is sitnated at the back of the
prison, as seen in the ground plan. It is about thirty-nine feet wide, and thirty-four feet
long. The pulpit is in an elevated position to the right, covered with red cloth, and
beneath is a seat for the clerk. On the left is a lofty seat for the Governor, which gives
him a commanding view of the auditory. Between the pulpit and the Governor's pew there
is a communion-table, also covered with red cloth, the space within the Lnclosure around it
being carpeted. On the wall over against it are inscribed the Ten Commandments, the
Lord's Prayer, and the Creed.
There are four long seats in front of the pulpit, separated by a wooden partition six feet
in height, occupied by the debtors during the service. A number of seats in the area behind
are set apart for misdemeanants and felons committed for re-examination or for trial, while
the convicted prisoners sit in elevated separate boxes behind. The female prisoners occupy
the gallery above, out of sight of the males in the area beneath.
The debtors generally enter the chapel first, and proceed to their seats in the interior.
The prisoners under remand, etc., then advance to their seats in the centre, and the convicts
enter last. Meantime the females are assembling in the gallery above.
The chapel service commences at half-past nine o'clock. On Sundays there are two ser-
vices, one in the morning at half-past nine, and the other in the afternoon at two o'clock.
*#* Exercising Grounds.—There are three paved exercising grounds within the hoUow
square of Horsemonger Lane Criminal Gaol. The larger one for the adult males is about
one hundred and fourteen feet square, that of the juveniles is sixty feet by forty-two, and
the female exercising ground is seventy-five feet by sixty, all situated, as seen in the ground
plan. We observed a considerable number of prisoners airing in the adult yard, consisting
of common felons and ragged mendicants and others, with three soldiers, charged with
burglary, belonging to cavalry and infantry regiments. The general appearance of the greater
number was very similar to those we saw in ClerkenweU Prison. They were for the most
part in their own garb ; some of them walked with the haughty air of men who had been
wronged by being unjustly suspected of crime ; others had a more modest demeanour, while
some of the poor cadgers in their rags sneaked along vsdth downcast eye. One of the warders
observed to us, " These prisoners were mostly charged with felonies, and common ofiences."
In the Juvenile Exercising Yard we found a small party of boys exercising, some of
them charged with petty felonies, others with picking pockets, and one poor fair-haired lad
with begging. He was dressed in a blue-prison misdemeanant's garb.
Visiting the Cells.—We found the corridors in Horsemonger Lane Jail to be very
different from those in the other prisons. Here we had no lofty roof, and no airy galleries.
628
THE GEEAT WORLD OF LONDON.
but dingy low-set corridors, of about twelve feet high, and seven feet wide, around each of
the three stories, spanning a row of cells on each side, a warder being often seated at the
extreme angles by a small table, beside cheerfully-lighted windows overlooking his ward.
These corridors had groined roofs, which gave them a more interesting appearance. The
interior arrangements of the prison, and the general appearance of the exterior, as well as
the manners of the officials, presented to us a more homely and provincial aspect than any
of the other London prisons, and were very different from the Surrey House of Correction at
Wandsworth.
The chief warder informed us that basement A contained prisoners under remand, and
for trial at the Sessions and Central Criminal Court ; corridor B, on the floor above, was
occupied by prisoners incarcerated for want of sureties, and those who are summarily con¬
victed of assaults, but not sentenced to hard labour. Penal servitude men are also detained
here for a time after conviction, as at Newgate. Corridor C contains persons summarily
convicted, or otherwise, when the cells beneath are full.
We entered a cell in corridor A, which is 9 feet 1 inch long, and 7 feet 6 inches wide, and
11 feet 1 inch at the top of the groined arch. It is furnished very similar to the reception
cells, provided with wooden flooring, and ventilated in like manner. There are flfty-one
cells in this corridor, forty-three of them being occupied ; but there was no one conflned in
the dark cell.
The warder observed to us, "that detentional prisoners are allowed by the county to
maintain themselves before their trial." The chief warder, then passing along the corridor,
stated " that they are permitted to get a pint of beer if they choose." He particularly
called our attention to this : " that it is an imperative condition that they must be main¬
tained entirely at their own expense, or that of their Mends, or they must be contented with
the prison diet."
As we passed along the corridor, we observed several females, some respectable in
appeai-ance, others of a more questionable aspect, visiting several of the criminals and con¬
versing with them through the wire screen, in the doors of their cells. We proceeded with
the warder to one of the cells, and saw a quantity of provisions introduced along with some
clean linen. The wife and mother of the prisoner stood alongside. The former was a
quiet, modest-looking woman in middle life, and the latter an elderly-looking person who
appeared to be very distressed for the misfortune of her son. The prisoner was a robust,
decent-looking man, a carman, and was charged with stealing several firkins of butter.
We went up-stairs to corridor B, on the second story, and were introduced to the warder
on duty. He informed us there were thirty-two cells here, three associated rooms, a
padded room for lunatics, and a condemned cell for prisoners under sentence of death. We
were'shown into one of the associated rooms which is about the size of two cells, and is
furnished similar to two of them. At present it is used as a dormitory. On going into
another we found an old sharp-featured man confined for using threatening language.
Having failed to produce a surety for his better conduct in future, he was imprisoned for
three months. Another shabbily-dressed elderly man was committed for trial at the sessions
for embezzling from his employer. A young good-looking man, a deserter, was also confined
here beside them, who was waiting for a military escort. The first-named sharp-featured
man had recently attempted to commit suicide by cutting his throat, but was fortunately
prevented. As we stood beside him, and looked into his quiet-looking countenance, we
could not have dreamed he would have dared to do such a desperate deed.
The warder stated to us that, about a year ago, a man of about forty-five years of age,
formerly an employé at a blind school in the metropolis, was imprisoned there for setting fire
to a hay-rick and was committed for trial. On the day previous to trial, he hung himself
up to a hook of the window by a handkerchief. One of the prisoners who slept in the
room with him awoke and saw him suspended, and gave an outcry. The warder, who slept in
HOESEMONGEE LANE JAIL.
629
the room adjoining, and the watchman on duty both ran to the cell. The watchman instantly
cut him down. The medical officer was sent for, and arrived about ten minutes after ; he
was occupied from three o'clock in the morning to eleven o'clock in the forenoon, using
means to restore animation. He was successful, and the wretched man was removed to
the hospital, and taken, a day afterwards, to the assizes. He was acquitted on the ground
of insanity, and sent to a lunatic asylum.
In answer to our interrogatories, the warder observed, "The prisoners in general spend
their time reading books from the prison library. Those who cannot read, walk up and
down their cell, and sometimes lie down and sleep. There is a shoemaker in an adjoining
workshop who is generally husy mending shoes in the prison. He does it, instead of sitting
idle, to pass his time more pleasantly."
In one of the cells we saw a man of colour lying on his bed, charged with stealing two
pigs' flays, while in a state of destitution. The poor fellow lay covered with a chocolate-
coloured counterpane, with a blue handkerchief bound around his temples. He told us
he belonged to Kingstown, Jamaica. He spoke English tolerably well, and was lately an
able seaman on board a man-of-war, and had never been in prison before.
Meantime, a genteel, well-dressed young woman passed along the corridor for the purpose
of visiting a young man of about nineteen, a clerk, charged with ravishing a girl between
ten and twelve years of age. He had been paying his addresses to a sister of this
girl, who lived at Brixton. The clerk was rather a smart-looking youth. He told us his
mother resides at Gravesend, and protested his innocence of the infamous crime laid to his
charge. He has since been convicted at the sessions, and sent to Wandsworth prison for
twelve months.
On looking into another cell, we saw a prisoner sentenced to penal servitude, engaged
reading by his table, having just finished his dinner. He was born in Canada, and came to
this country with his father in early life, to secure certain property left by an uncle. He
was a good-looking man, a costermonger, and complained he had been hunted by the
police from pillar to post, and driven into misfortune. He had been fined four times in one
week for selling his fruit in the Borough, and, had been pointed out and marked by the
officers as a convicted thief. He thought there were good men in the police which he had
learned by experience ; but there were others of different character, who acted a cruel and
unjust part. This prisoner had tried to strangle himself in Wandsworth prison some time
ago. He appeared now more resigned to his fate.
We went to the padded room, which was an ordinary cell with coir-packed canvas
around the walls. It is floored with wood, and lighted from the passage.
We visited the condemned cell, which is about the size of four cells, supported in the
centre with two pillars, and has a stone floor. It is furnished with two iron bedsteads and
a washstand in one corner and a water-closét in another. An officer is constantly in
attendance night and day when a murderer is confined.
" I have been eight years in this jail," said thef warder, " and have only known one
man incarcerated here who was executed. Dr. Smethurst was for a time confined in this cell,
charged with poisoning Miss Banks. Youngman was also imprisoned here, who assassinated
his mother, sweetheart, and brother, at Walworth, and was executed on 5th September, 1860.
He was a sullen, resolute fellow, of about twenty-four years of age."
There are thirty-five cells in corridor 0 on the floor above, one of them being a con¬
demned cell, similar in dimensions to that we visited. There was not a single prisoner
incarcerated there at the time of our visit.
The chief warder observed to us—" The number of our prisoners varies very much from
time to time. Last Saturday, for example, we had 152 in the jail, and to-day we have 138.
On the 22nd of December last, we had only ninety, while in October they amounted to 206."
Each of the three corridors extending round the two sides, and a portion of the third
G80
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
side, forming tho male branch of the square-shaped criminal prison, is about 427 feet in
length.
The Infirmary.—We visited the Infirmary, a detached building on the left side
of the court-yard, with iron-grated windows, and were introduced to the warder in charge.
It consists of two wards ; one for debtors, and another for criminals. There was no
patient then in the debtor's ward, and there were only three persons in the criminal ward,
one of whom is suffering from an abscess, and another, a fine-looking young man, from the
amputation of one of his legs.
The portion of the Infirmary allotted to the criminals consists of four, and that to the
debtors of two rooms. There is also a bath-room and a surgery in the building. Two of
those occupied by criminals are large, and the other two are of smaller dimensions. " Each
large room," said the warder " accommodates ten or twelve prisoners conveniently, and the
small rooms contain four each." The large rooms are each of them furnished with iron bed¬
steads, a large dining-table, and forms which serve as seats. The rooms are aU well venti¬
lated, and the windows are protected without by strong iron bars.
% hi.—ß.
The Female Prison
We enter the Female Prison by a small court-yard behind the right wing of the debtor's
prison, proceeding through a gateway leading to the office of the chief warder and the
reception cells.
*** Female Reception Ward.—There are nine reception cells here of the same dimensions
as those in the male prison, and similarly furnished. They were then empty. In the passage
there are two bells, one communicating with the wards for female debtors, and the other
with the wards for female criminals.
On entering the matron^ store-room we found it contained an ample assortment of clothing
and bedding of various kinds, consisting of striped cotton shirts, grey calico chemises, flannel
and linsey petticoats, bluechecked neckerchiefs, blue cotton gowns, chocolate-coloured worsted
rugs, and sheets and blankets, etc., all carefully arranged.
We were shown into a bath-room, 18 feet by 15, where there were two zinc baths similar
to those in the male branch of the prison, with slate partitions between them. Here we also
saw a standard measure for taking the prisoners' height, and a cupboard containing the
prisoners' own clothing, chiefly belonging to an inferior class charged with assault, stealing
from the person, shoplifting, etc.
These reception cells are situated "right and left of the long passage entering into the
female prison.
*#* The Laundry is about 21 feet squaçe, and lighted by a large skylight. There are
six drying horses here heated by a stove underground used likewise for heating the irons.
A large ironing board extends along one of the sides of the apartment. There is also a
mangle here and a cupboard containing clean clothing.
We passed from the laundry to the washing cells through a small room in which there is
a steam boiler to heat the water for washing. There are five washing ceUs. In one of
them two prisoners were engaged at the wooden troughs, one with a child by her side. These
cells are 7 feet 2 inches wide, and 9 feet 9 inches long. The troughs are supplied with hot
and cold water.
HORSEMOKGEE LANE JAIL.
631
In another room there are two coppers for hoiling the clothing, and a wringing machine
similar to the one we saw in Holloway Prison. Opposite to this is another apartment
where the unwashed clothing is contained. The matron stated, "We wash, for the whole
of the prisoners who require it, debtors as well as criminals. We have at present eight
persons employed in the laundry, which is the general number. Sometimes we have more ;
we commence our work here at ten o'clock in the morning, and end at six in the evening."
The Teacher.—We were introduced to Miss Moseley, the teacher, who replied, in
auswerte our queries—"I teach the various females separately in the prison. Sometimes
me have a considerable number able to read. The prisoners are seldom longer than three
wonths under my care. I often find that some who did not know their letters when they
entered the prison, are able to read the Testament by the time they leave, and learn to write
besides. As a general rule, I find the young are the most docile scholars. I teach all the
prisoners who are unable to read, however short their stay, and visit them in their cells for
that purpose."
Vmting the Cells,—The matron informed us that " the female prison consists of four
divisions—E, F, G, and H—the latter being the reception ward. The E division is appro¬
priated for convicts only. Sometimes, however, I place prisoners for want of sureties and
remanded prisoners in them. The F division is reserved for prisoners under remand, com¬
mitted for trial, and confined for want of sureties ; and E is set apart for prisoners sum¬
marily convicted of assaults and other misdemeanours."
The cells in the female prison are of the same dimensions as those in the male branch,
and are similarly furnished. There is one dark cell for punishment floored with wood, which
is seldom occupied.
At the time of our visit the five cells in division E were all occupied. We accompanied
the matron to the F division, consisting of twenty-two cells, with three larger associated
cells. There are three rooms here used as an infirmary. We entered one of them 14 feet
10 inches by 8 feet 4 inches, similar in dimensions to the other two. It has a wooden
flooring, is lighted by two windows, and contains a fireplace. It is furnished with two iron
bedsteads, a larger table than in the other cells, and is lighted by two windows.
The lying-in ward consists of three cells furnished with bedsteads, tables, chairs, etc.
There is a cell used for persons in a foul condition, sirffering under the itch and covered with
vermin. "Some prisoners are in such a disgusting condition," said the matron, " that we
have to cut their hair off, and others are covered with dreadful eruptions of the skin. Such
parties are of different ages, from 13 to 60, but most of them are young. Many of the
young girls are afflicted with horrid disease, and in a sad condition. We have such fre¬
quently remanded for a few days or weeks. There is a bath attached to the infirmary."
We were shown into an associated cell about the size of two ordinary cells. There are
three of them in this division which are used for persons who require to be watched, such as
prisoners suspected of attempting suicide, subject to fits, etc. We observed four hammocks
rolled up and suspended on hooks against the wall, with a large strong beam of wood lying
alongside, which is placed at night across the centre of the cell, and serves as a support to
one of the sides of the hammocks. The flooring is of stone.
We visited several of the cells, but did not find any of the cases particularly deserving of
notice.
The staff of the female prison consists of the matron, the schoolmistress, the laundry
warder, infirmary warder, female debtors' warder, a general warder, and an assistant warder.
632
THE GREAT "WORLD OE LONDON.
STATISTICS OF HORSEMONGEB LANE JAIL.
Foe Yeae ending Septembbe 1860, peom the Goveenment Eetitens.
nümbee oe peib0nee8.
Moles.
For trial and tried at Assizes and
Sessions 485
Summary convictions 437
Want of sureties 73
Remanded and discharged 819
Debtors and civil process 451
Mutiny Act 190
Total of commitments . 2455
Females.
... 131
... 223
... 71
... 416
... 33
874
pebvi0d8dy committed to ant pei80n.
Hales. Females.
Once 313 ... 140
Twice 93 ... 78
Thrice 48 .... 35
Four times 31 ... 22
Five times 24 ... 18
Seven times, and above five 20 ... 18
Ten times, and above seven 16 ... 11
Above ten times 8 ... 6
Total 553 ... 328
age and 8ex.
Males. Females.
Under twelve years 43 ... 5
Twelve to sixteen 172 ... 31
Sixteen to twenty-one 442 ... 215
Twenty-one to thirty 573 ... 262
Thirty to forty 312 ... 158
Forty to fifty 172 ... 121
Fifty to sixty 66 ... 31
Sixty and above 32 ... 15
Age not ascertained 2 ... 3
Total 1814 ... 841
bietqpdace.
Males. Females.
England 1577 ... 695
Wales ••• ®
Scotland 19 1®
Ireland 137 ... Ill
Colonies, and East Indies 8 ... 4
Foreign countries 33 ... 7
Not ascertained 9 ... 8
capacitt and 8iate op the pei80n.
Males. Females.
lumbers constructed to contain 213 ... 62
Jreatest number at any one time 144 ... 47
Males and Females,
laily average number in the year 148
state op in8teu0ti0n.
Males.
Neither çead nor write 492
Read, or read and write imper¬
fectly 1221
Read and write well 93
Superior instruction 3
Instruction not ascertained 5
Total 1814
Females.
.. 286
.. 545
7
843
disposal op the pei30nees oonpined on com¬
mitment, eemand, oe eemovax.
Males. Females.
Number in prison at the com¬
mencement of the year 100 ... 43
Committed during the year 2455 ... 874
Removed to the prison during the
year 4 ... 1
Total 2559 ... 918
cases op sickness.
Males.
Greatest number at any one time ... 16
Deaths 2
Infirmary cases 5
Slight indisposition 423
Insanity 2
Females.
12
5
192
Total
448
209
punishments poe oppences in peison.
Males. Females.
Whipping —
Irons or handcufis —
Solitary or dark cells 2 ... 4
Stoppage of diet 57 ... 8
Other punishments —
Total pimishments 59
12
establishment op oppicees.
Males. FeLaalee.
Governor and deputy 1 ... —
Chaplain 1 ... —
Surgeon 1 ... —
Clerk and schoolmaster 2 ... —
Schoolmistress — ... 1
Upper warders' matron 1 ... 1
Under warders 12 ... 4
Other sub-officers 4 ... —
6
HORSEMONGER LANE JAIL.
633
TABLES OE DIETARIES.
Class 1.
Convicted prisoners sentenced to any term not exceeding seven days :—
Males. Females.
Breakfast
Dinner
Supper
Oatmeal gruel
Bread .
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
1 lb.
1 pint.
Breakfast
Dinner
• Supper
Oatmeal gruel
Bread .
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
1 lb.
1 pint.
Class 2.
Convicted prisoners sentenced to any term exceeding seven days, and not exceeding twenty-one
days :—
Males.
Females.
Breakfast
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
Breakfast Oatmeal gruel
1 pint_
Bread
6 oz.
„ Bread .
6 pz.
Dinner
Bread
12 oz.
Dinner Bread .
C oz.
Supper
Bread .
6 oz.
Supper Bread .
6 oz.
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
„ Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
Prisoners of this class employed at hard labour, to have, in addition, one pint of soup per week.
Class 3.
Convicted prisoners employed at hard labour for terms exceeding twenty-one days, but not more than
SIX weeks ; and convicted prisoners
not employed at hard labour for terms exceeding twenty-one
days, but not more than four months
:—
Daily.
Males.
Females.
Breakfast
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
Breakfast . Oatmeal gruel
1 pint.
»
. Bread .
6 oz.
„ . Bread
6 oz.
Sunday and Thursday.
Dinner
Soup
1 pint.
Dinner . Soup
1 pint.
»
Bread .
8 oz.
„ . Bread
6 oz.
Tuesday and Saturday.
Dinner .
Cooked meat, without bone
3 oz.
Dinner . Cooked meat, without bone
3 oz.
Bread ....
8 oz.
„ . Bread ....
6 oz.
Potatoes ....
lib.
„ . Potatoes ....
i lb.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Dinner .
Bread ....
8 oz.
Dinner . Bread ....
6 oz.
IÏ
Potatoes ....
lib.
„ . Potatoes ....
lib.
Daily.
Supper .
Same as breakfast.
Supper . Same as breakfast.
Class 4.
Convicted prisoners employed at hard labour for terms exceeding six weeks, but not more
than four
months ; and convicted prisoners not employed at hard laboimfor terms exceeding four months:-—
Daily.
Males.
Females.
Breakfast
Oatmeal gruel
1 pint*
1 Breakfast Oatmeal gruel . .
1 pint.
Bread ....
8 oz.
1 „ Bread . ...
6 oz.
Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
Dinner .
Cooked meat, without bone
3 oz.
Dinner . Cooked meat, without bone
3oz.
1» •
Potatoes
i lb.
„ . Potatoes
i lb.
» •
Bread ....
8 oz.
„ . Bread
6 oz.
Dinner
Soup
Bread
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
1 pint, j Dinner . Soup
8 oz. I . Bread
1 pint.
6 OB.
634
THE GREAT WORLD OF LONDON.
Supper . Same as breakfast.
Same as breakfast.
Hrcakfast
Dinner
Breakfast
Dinner
Daily.
I Supper
Class 5.
Convicted prisoners employed at hard labour for terms exceeding four months ;
Sunday, Tuesday, Tlmrgday, and Saturday.
Females.
Males.
Oatmeal gruel
Bread
Cooked meat, without bono
Potatoes .
Bread
1 pint.
8 oz.
4 oz.
1 lb.
6 oz.
Breakfast
Dinner
One pint of cocoa, made of ¿ oz. of
flaked cocoa or cocoa-nibs, sweet¬
ened with 5 oz. of molasses or
sugar.
Bread . . . 8 oz.
Soup .... 1 pint.
Potatoes . . . 1 lb.
Bread . . . 6 oz.
O.itmeal gruel . . 1 pint.
Bread . . . . 6 oz.
Cooked meat, without bone 3 oz.
Potatoes . . . . J lb.
Bread . . . . 6 oz.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Breakfast
Dinner
One pint of cocoa, made of J oz. of
flaked cocoa or cocoa-nibs, sweet¬
ened with
sugar.
Bread
Soup
Potatoes .
Bread
I oz. of molasses or
6 oz.
1 pint.
è lb.
6 oz.
Supper
1 pint.
6 oz.
Daily.
Oatmeal gruel . 1 pint. I Supper Oatmeal gruel
„ Bread . . . . 8 oz. I „ Bread
Class 6.
Prisoners sentenced by Court to solitary confinement; —
Males. I Females.
The ordinary diet of their respective classes. I The ordinary diet of their respective classes.
Class 7.
Prisoners for trial and examination, misdemeanants of the first division, who do not maintain themselvee,
and destitute debtors :—
Males.
The same as Class 4.
Females.
The same as Class 4.
Class 8.
Debtors committed under the 8th and 9th Vict., cap. 127, and 9th and 10th Vict., cap. 95 ; fraudulent
debtors committed by Commissioners of Bankrupts under the Bankruptcy Laws ; and debtors
remanded for fraud from Insolvent Debtors* Courts :—
Males. I Females.
The same as Class 3. The same as Class 3.
CI.ass 9.
Prisoners in close confinement for prison offences for terms not exceeding three days :—
1 lb. of Bread per diem.
Prisoners in close confinement for prison offences under the provisions of the 42nd Section of the
Jail Act :—
Daily.
Males.
Breakfast
»9
Dinner
Supper
Bread
Ghruel
Bread
Bread
Gruel
8 oz.
1 pint.
8 oz.
8 oz.
1 pint.
Females,
Breakfast
»
Dinner
Supper
Bread
Gruel
Bread
Bread
Gruel
6 oz.
1 pint.
6 oz.
6 oz.
1 pint.
Ingredients of Soup and Qruel.—'Dae soup to contain, per pint, three ounces of cookeii meat, without
bone ; three ounces of potatoes ; one ounce of barley, rice, or oatmeal ; and one ounce of onions or leeks,
with pepper and salt. The gruel to contain two ounces of oatmeal per pint. The gruel, on alternate
days, to be sweetened with three-quarter ounce of molasses, or sugar, and seasoned with salt. In seasons
when the potato crop has failed, four ounces of split peas made into a pudding may be occasionally sub¬
stituted ; but the change must not be made more than twice in each week. Boys under fourteen years of
Age to be placed on the same diet as females.