The History and
Romance of
Crime
FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES
TO THE PRESENT DAY
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THE GROLIER SOCIETY
LONDON
[Illustration: TEMPLE BAR
_Temple Bar_
A famous gateway which stood before the Temple in London built by
the noted architect, Christopher Wren, in 1670. According to ancient
custom when the sovereign wishes to visit the City of London, he asks
permission of the lord mayor to pass through this gateway into the
city.]
Millbank Penitentiary
AN EXPERIMENT IN REFORMATION
_by_
MAJOR ARTHUR GRIFFITHS
_Late Inspector of Prisons in Great Britain_
_Author of
“The Mysteries of Police and Crime”
“Fifty Years of Public Service,” etc._
[Illustration: LOGO]
THE GROLIER SOCIETY
EDITION NATIONALE
Limited to one thousand registered and numbered sets.
NUMBER 307
INTRODUCTION
MILLBANK PRISON stood for nearly a century upon the banks of the
Thames between Westminster and Vauxhall, a well-known gloomy pile by
the river side, with its dull exterior, black portals, and curious
towers. This once famous prison no longer attracts the wide attention
of former days but the very name contains in itself almost an epitome
of British penal legislation. With it one intimately associates such
men as John Howard and Jeremy Bentham; an architect of eminence
superintended its erection; while statesmen and high dignitaries,
dukes, bishops, and members of Parliament were to be found upon its
committee of management, exercising a control that was far from nominal
or perfunctory, not disdaining a close consideration of the minutest
details, and coming into intimate personal communion with the criminal
inmates, whom, by praise or admonition, they sought to reward or
reprove. Its origin and the causes that brought it into being; its
object, and the success or failure of those who ruled it; its annals,
and the curious incidents with which they are filled,—these are topics
of much interest to the general reader.
At this distant time it is indeed interesting to observe how thoroughly
John Howard understood the subject to which he had devoted his life.
In his prepared plan for the erection of the prison he anticipates
exactly the method we are pursuing to-day, after more than a century
of experience. “The Penitentiary Houses,” he says, “I would have built
in a great measure by the convicts. I will suppose that a power is
obtained from Parliament to employ such of them as are now at work
on the Thames, or some of those who are in the county gaols, under
sentence of transportation, as may be thought most expedient. In the
first place, let the surrounding wall, intended for full security
against escapes, be completed, and proper lodges for the gatekeepers.
Let temporary buildings of the nature of barracks be erected in some
part of this enclosure which will be wanted the least, till the whole
is finished. Let one or two hundred men, with their proper keepers,
and under the direction of the builder, be employed in levelling
the ground, digging out the foundation, serving the masons, sawing
the timber and stone; and as I have found several convicts who were
carpenters, masons, and smiths, these may be employed in their own
branches of trade, since such work is as necessary and proper as any
other in which they can be engaged. Let the people thus employed
chiefly consist of those whose term is nearly expired, or who are
committed for a short term; and as the ground is suitably prepared
for the builders, the garden made, the wells dug, and the building
finished, let those who are to be dismissed go off gradually, as it
would be very improper to send them back to the hulks or gaols again.”
Suggestions such as these may have seemed impossible to those to whom
they were propounded; but that the plan of action was simple and
feasible, is now most satisfactorily proved. Elam Lynds, the celebrated
governor of Sing-Sing prison, in the State of New York, acted
precisely in this manner, encamping out in the open with his hundreds
of prisoners, and compelling them in this way to build their own
prison-house, cell by cell, as bees would build a hive. De Tocqueville,
commenting on this seemingly strange episode of prison history,
observes that “the manner in which Mr. Elam Lynds built Sing-Sing
would no doubt raise incredulity, were not the fact quite recent, and
publicly known in the United States. To understand it we have only to
realize what resources the new prison discipline of America placed at
the disposal of an energetic man.”
Plans for the new penitentiary buildings were actually prepared, and
operations about to commence, when the Government suddenly decided
to suspend further proceedings. The principle of transportation
had never been entirely abandoned. Western Africa had indeed been
selected for a penal settlement, and a few convicts sent there in
spite of the deadly character of the climate. But the statesmen
of the day had fully recognized that they had no right to increase
the punishment of imprisonment by making it also capital; and the
Government, despairing of finding a suitable place of exile, was about
to commit itself entirely to the plan of home penitentiaries, when the
discoveries of Captain Cook in the South Seas drew attention to the
vast territories of Australasia. Embarking hotly on the new project,
the Government could not well afford to continue steadfast to the
principle of penitentiaries, and the latter might have fallen to the
ground altogether, but for the interposition of Jeremy Bentham. This
remarkable man published, in 1791, his “Panopticon, or the Inspection
House,” a valuable work on prison discipline, and followed it, in 1792,
by a formal proposal to erect a prison on the plan he advocated.
The outlines on which this model prison was to be constructed were
also indicated in a memorandum by Mr. Bentham: “A circular building,
an iron cage, glazed, a glass lantern as large as Ranelagh, with the
cells on the outer circumference,”—such was his main idea. Within,
in the very centre, an inspection station was so fixed that every
cell and every part of a cell could be at all times closely observed;
but, by means of blinds and other contrivances, the inspectors were
concealed, unless they saw fit to show themselves, from the view of the
prisoners; by which the feeling of a sort of invisible omnipresence
was to pervade the whole place. There was to be solitude or limited
seclusion _ad libitum_; but, unless for punishment, limited seclusion
in assorted companies was to be preferred. As we have seen, Bentham
proposed to throw the place open as a kind of public lounge, and to
protect the prisoners from ill-treatment they were to be enabled to
hold conversations with the visitors by means of tubes reaching from
each cell to the general centre.
Bentham’s project had much to recommend it and it was warmly embraced
by Mr. Pitt and Lord Dundas, the Home Secretary. But secret influences
were hostile to it. It is believed that King George III opposed it
from personal dislike of Bentham who was an advanced radical. Year
after year, although taken up by Parliament, the measure hung fire. At
last in 1810 active steps were taken to re-open the question, thanks
to the vigour with which Sir Samuel Romilly called public attention
to the want of penitentiaries. Nothing now would please the House of
Commons but immediate action; and this eagerness to begin is in strange
contrast with the previous long years of delay.
Negotiations were not re-opened with Bentham, except in so far as he
was entitled to remuneration for his trouble and original outlay.
Eventually his claims were referred, by Act of Parliament, to
arbitration, and so settled. The same Act empowered certain supervisors
to be appointed, hereafter to become possessed of the lands in
Tothill Fields, which Bentham had originally bought on behalf of the
Government. These lands were duly transferred to Lord Farnborough,
George Holford, Esq., M. P., and the Rev. Mr. Becher, and under their
supervision the Millbank Penitentiary as it now stands was commenced
and finished.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION 5
I. THE BUILDING OF THE PENITENTIARY 15
II. EARLY MANAGEMENT 33
III. THE GREAT EPIDEMIC 48
IV. THE PENITENTIARY REOCCUPIED 73
V. SERIOUS DISTURBANCES 107
VI. A NEW REGIME 132
VII. INGENIOUS ESCAPES 166
VIII. THE WOMEN’S WARDS 198
IX. THE MILLBANK CALENDAR 236
X. THE PENITENTIARY IMPUGNED 275
XI. LAST DAYS OF MILLBANK 293
List of Illustrations
TEMPLE BAR, LONDON _Frontispiece_
BOW STREET OFFICE, LONDON _Page_ 40
MILLBANK PENITENTIARY, WESTMINSTER ” 108
PRISONERS AT DARTMOOR MARCHING TO THEIR WORK ” 194
MILLBANK PENITENTIARY
CHAPTER I
THE BUILDING OF THE PENITENTIARY
Choice of Site—Ancient Millbank—Plan of new Building—Penitentiary
described—Committee appointed to Superintend—Opening of Prison in
1816—First Governor and other officers—Supreme Authority—First
Arrangements.
THE lands which Jeremy Bentham bought from Lord Salisbury were a
portion of the wide area known then as Tothill Fields; speaking more
exactly, they lay on either side of the present Vauxhall-bridge
Road. This road, constructed after the purchase, intersected the
property, dividing it into two lots of thirty-eight and fifteen
acres respectively. It was on a slice of the larger piece that the
prison was ultimately built, on ground lying close by the river. This
neighbourhood, now known as a part of Pimlico, was then a low marshy
locality, with a soil that was treacherous and insecure, especially
at the end towards Millbank Row. People were alive twenty years ago
who had shot snipe in the bogs and quagmires round about this spot. A
large distillery, owned by a Mr. Hodge, stood near the proposed site
of the prison; but otherwise these parts were but sparsely covered
with houses. Bentham, speaking of the site he purchased, declared that
it might be considered “in no neighbourhood at all.” No house of any
account, superior to a tradesman’s or a public-house, stood within
a quarter of a mile of the intended prison, and there were in this
locality one other prison and any number of almshouses, established
at various dates. Of these the most important were Hill’s, Butler’s,
Wicher’s, and Palmer’s—all left by charitable souls of these names;
and Stow says, that Lady Dacre also, wife of Gregory Lord Dacre of
the South, left £100 a year to support almshouses which were built
in these fields “more towards Cabbage Lane.” Here, also, stands the
Green Coats Hospital, erected by Charles I, but endowed by Charles
II for twenty-five boys and six girls, with a schoolmaster to teach
them. Adjoining this hospital is a bridewell described by Stow as “a
place for the correction of such loose and idle livers as are taken up
within the liberty of Westminster, and thither sent by the Justices
of the Peace, for correction—which is whipping, and beating of Hemp
(a punishment very well suited for idlers), and are thence discharged
by order of the Justices as they in their wisdom find occasion.”
Again, Stow remarks: “In Tothill Fields, which is a large spacious
place, there are certain pest-houses; now made use of by twelve poor
men and their wives, so long as it shall please God to keep us from
the Plague. These Pest-houses are built near the Meads, and remote
from people.” Hospitals, bridewells, alms and pest-houses—the chief
occupants of these lonely fields, formed no unfitting society for the
new neighbour that was soon to be established amongst them.
As the prison, when completed, took its name from the mill bank, that
margined the Thames close at hand, I must pause to refer to this
embankment. I can find no record giving the date of the construction
of this bank, which was no doubt intended to check the overflow of the
river, and possibly, also, to act as one side of the mill-race, which
served the Abbot of Westminster’s mill. This mill, which is in fact
the real sponsor of the locality, is marked on the plan of Westminster
from Norden’s survey, taken in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, in 1573. It
stands on the bank of the Thames, almost opposite the present corner of
Abingdon and Great College Streets; but it is not quite clear whether
it was turned by water from the river, brought along Millbank, or by
the stream that came from Tothill Street, which, taking the corner of
the present Rochester Row, flowed along the line of the present Great
College Street, and under Millbridge to the Queen’s slaughter-house.
“The Millbank,” says Stow, “is a very long place, which beginneth
by Lindsey House, or rather by the Palace Yard, and runneth up to
Peterborough House, which is the farthest house. The part from against
College Street unto the Horse Ferry hath a good row of buildings on
the east side, next to the Thames, which is mostly taken up with large
wood-mongers’ yards, and Brew-houses; and here is a water house which
serveth this side of the town; the North Side is but ordinary, except
one or two houses by the end of College Street; and that part beyond
the Horse Ferry hath a very good row of houses, much inhabited by the
gentry, by reason of the pleasant situation and prospect of the Thames.
The Earl of Peterborough’s house hath a large courtyard before it and
a fine garden behind it, but its situation is but bleak in the winter,
and not over healthful, as being so near the low meadows on the South
and West Parts.” But it was on one edge of these low, well-wooded
meadows that Millbank Penitentiary was to be built.
The first act was to decide upon the plan for the new prison
buildings. It was thrown open to competition by public advertisement
and a reward was offered for the three best tenders. Mr. Hardwicke
was eventually appointed architect and he estimated that £259,725
would be required for the work with a further sum of £42,690 for the
foundations. Accommodation was to be provided at this price for six
hundred prisoners, male and female, in equal proportions; and the whole
building was intended solely for the confinement of offenders in the
counties of London and Middlesex. By subsequent decisions, arrived at
after the work was first undertaken, the size of Millbank grew to
greater proportions, till it was ultimately made capable of containing,
as one great national penitentiary, all the transportable convicts
who were not sent abroad or confined in the hulks. Of course its cost
increased _pari passu_ with its size. By the time the prison was
finally completed, the total expenditure had risen as high as £458,000.
And over and above this enormous sum, the outlay of many additional
thousands was needed within a few years, for the repairs or restoration
of unsatisfactory work.
The Penitentiary, as it was commonly called, looked on London maps
like a six-pointed star-fort, as if built against catapults and
old-fashioned engines of war. The central point was the chapel, a
circular building which, with the space around it, covered rather
more than half an acre of ground. A narrow building, three stories
high, and forming a hexagon, surrounded the chapel, with which it was
connected at three points by covered passages. This chapel and its
annular belt, the hexagon, form the keystone of the whole system. It
was the centre of the circle, from which the several bastions of the
star-fort radiated. Each of these salients was in shape a pentagon, and
there were six of them, one opposite each side of the hexagon. They
were built three stories high, on four sides of the pentagon, having
a small tower at each external angle; while on the fifth side a wall
about nine feet high ran parallel to the adjacent hexagon. In these
pentagons were the prisoners’ cells, while the inner space in each, in
area about two-thirds of an acre, contained the airing yards, grouped
round a tall, central watch-tower. The ends of the pentagons joined the
hexagon at certain points called junctions. The whole space covered by
these buildings has been estimated at about seven acres; and something
more than that amount was included between them and the boundary wall,
which took the shape of an octagon, and beyond it was a moat.
Such is a general outline of the plan of the prison. Any more elaborate
description might prove as confusing as was the labyrinth within to
those who entered without such clues to guide them as were afforded
by familiarity and long practice. There was one old warder who served
for years at Millbank, and rose through all the grades to a position
of trust, who was yet unable, to the last, to find his way about the
premises. He carried with him always a piece of chalk, with which he
blazed his path, as does the backwoodsman the forest trees. Angles at
every twenty yards, winding staircases, dark passages, innumerable
doors and gates,—all these bewildered the stranger, and contrasted
strongly with the extreme simplicity of modern prison architecture.
Indeed Millbank, with its intricacy and massiveness of structure,
was suggestive of an order that has passed. It was one of the last
specimens of an age to which Newgate belonged; a period when the safe
custody of criminals could be compassed, people thought, only by
granite blocks and ponderous bolts and bars. Such notions were really
a legacy of mediævalism, bequeathed by the ruthless chieftains, who
imprisoned offenders within their own castle walls. Many such keeps and
castles long existed as prisons; having in the lapse of time ceased to
be great residences, and they served until recently cleared as gaols or
houses of correction for their immediate neighbourhood.
On the 9th February, 1816, the supervisors reported that the
Penitentiary was now partly ready for the reception of offenders,
and begged that a committee might be appointed to take charge of the
prison, under the provisions of an act by which the king in Council was
thus empowered to appoint “any fit and discreet persons, not being less
than ten or more than twenty, as and for a Committee to Superintend the
Penitentiary House for the term of one year, then next ensuing, and
until a fresh nomination or appointment shall take place.” Accordingly,
at the court at Brighton, on the 21st of February of the same year, his
Royal Highness the prince regent in Council nominated the Right Hon.
Charles Abbot, Speaker of the House of Commons, and nineteen others to
serve on this committee, and it met for the first time at the prison
on the 12th of March following. The Right Hon. Charles Long, George
Holford, Esq., and the Rev. J. J. Becher, were among the members of
the new committee, but they continued their functions as supervisors
distinct from the other body, until the final completion of the whole
building in 1821.
The first instalment of prisoners did not arrive till the 27th of July
following. In the interval, however, there was plenty of work to be
done. The preparation of rules and regulations, the appointment of a
governor, chaplain, matron, and other officials, were among the first
of them; and the committee took up each subject with characteristic
vigour. It was necessary also to decide upon some scale of salaries
and emoluments; to arrange with the Treasury as to the receipts,
custody, and payments of the public moneys; and to ascertain the sorts
of manufactures best suited to the establishment, and the best method
of obtaining work for the convicts, without having to purchase the
materials.
On the 10th of March Mr. John Shearman was appointed governor. This
gentleman was strongly recommended by Lord Sidmouth, who stated in a
letter to the Speaker that, having been induced to make particular
inquiries respecting his qualifications and his character, he had
found them well adapted to the office in question. Mr. Shearman’s own
account of himself was, that he was a native of Yorkshire, but chiefly
resident in London; that he was aged forty-four, was married, had
eight children, and that he had been brought up to the profession of a
solicitor, but for the last four years had been second clerk in the
Hatton Garden police office. Before actually entering upon his duties,
the committee sent Mr. Shearman on a tour of inspection through the
provinces, to visit various gaols, and report on their condition and
management.
He eventually resigned his appointment, however, because he thought
the pay insufficient, and because the committee found fault with his
frequent absences from the prison. He seems to have endeavoured to
carry on a portion of his old business as solicitor concurrently with
his governorship. His journals show him to have been an anxious and
a painstaking man, but neither by constitution nor training was he
exactly fitted for the position he was called upon to fill as head of
the Penitentiary.
At the same time, on the recommendation of the Bishop of London, the
Rev. Samuel Bennett was appointed chaplain. Touching this appointment
the bishop wrote, “I have found a clergyman of very high character
for great activity and beneficence, and said to be untainted with
fanaticism.... His answer is not yet arrived; but I think he will
not refuse, as he finds the income of his curacy inadequate to the
maintenance of a family, and is precluded from residence on a small
property by want of a house and the unhealthiness of the situation.”
Mr. Pratt was made house-surgeon, and a Mr. Webbe, son of a medical
man, and bred himself to that profession, was appointed master
manufacturer; being of a mechanical turn of mind, he had made several
articles of workmanship, and he produced to the committee specimens of
his shoe-making, and paper screens.
There was more difficulty in finding a matron. “The committee,” writes
Mr. Morton Pitt, “was fully impressed with the importance of the
charge, and with the difficulty of finding a fit person to fill this
most essential office.” Many persons were of opinion that it would be
impracticable to procure any person of credit or character to undertake
the duties of a situation so arduous and so unpleasant, and the fact
that no one had applied for it was strong proof of the prevalence of
such opinions. Mr. Pitt goes on: “The situation is a new one. I never
knew but two instances of a matron in a prison, and those were the
wives of turnkeys or porters. In the present case it is necessary that
a person should be selected of respectability as to situation in life.
How difficult must it be to find a female educated as and having the
feelings of a gentlewoman, who would undertake a duty so revolting to
every feeling she has hitherto possessed, and even so alarming to a
person of that sex.”
Mr. Pitt, however, had his eye on a person who appeared to him in every
way suitable. He writes: “Mrs. Chambers appears to me to possess the
requisites we want; and I can speak of her from a continued knowledge
of her for almost thirty years, since she was about fifteen. Her
father was in the law, and clerk of the peace for the county of
Dorset from 1750 to 1790. He died insolvent, and she was compelled to
support herself by her own industry, for her husband behaved very ill
to her, abandoned her, and then died. She has learned how to obey,
and since that, having kept a numerous school, how to command. She
is a woman forty-three years of age, of a strong sense of religion
and the most strict integrity. She has much firmness of character
with a compassionate heart, and I am firmly persuaded will most
conscientiously perform every duty she undertakes to the utmost of her
power and ability.” Accordingly Mrs. Chambers was duly appointed.
The same care was exhibited in all the selections for the minor posts
of steward, turnkeys male and female, messengers, nurses, porters,
and patrols; and most precise rules and regulations were drawn up
for the government of everybody and everything connected with the
establishment. All these had, in the first instance, to be submitted
for the approval of the Judges of the Court of King’s Bench, and
subsequently reported to the king in Council and both Houses of
Parliament.
The supreme authority in the Penitentiary was vested in the
superintending committee, who were required to make all contracts,
examine accounts, pay bills, and make regular inspection of prison
and prisoners. A special meeting of the committee was to be convened
in the second week of each session of Parliament, in order to prepare
the annual report. Under them the governor attended to the details
of administration. He was to have the same powers as are incident to
a sheriff or gaoler,—to see every prisoner on his or her admittance;
to handcuff or otherwise punish the turbulent; to attend chapel; and
finally, to have no employment other than such as belonged to the
duties of his office. The chaplain was to be in priest’s orders, and
approved by the bishop of the diocese, and to have no other profession,
avocation, or duty whatsoever. Besides his regular Sunday and week-day
services, he was to endeavour by all means in his power to obtain an
intimate knowledge of the particular disposition and character of every
prisoner, male and female; direct them to be assembled for the purposes
of religious instruction in such manner as might be most conducive to
their reformation. He was expected also to allot a considerable portion
of his time, after the hours of labour, to visiting, admonishing and
instructing the prisoners, and to keep a “Character-Book,” containing
a “full and distinct account from time to time of all particulars
relating to the character, disposition, and progressive improvement
of every prisoner.” Intolerance was not encouraged, for even then the
visitation of ministers other than those of the Established Church
was permitted on special application by the prisoners. Such ministers
were only required to give in their names and descriptions, and were
admitted at such hours and in such manner as the governor deemed
reasonable, confining their ministrations to the persons requiring
their attendance. No remuneration was, however, to be granted to these
additional clergymen. The duties prescribed for the house-surgeon were
of the ordinary character, but in cases of difficulty he was to confer
with the consulting physician and other non-resident medical men. The
master manufacturer was to act as the governor’s deputy if called
upon, and was charged more especially with the control and manufacture
of all materials and stores. It was his duty to make the necessary
appraisement of the value of work done, and to enter the weekly
percentage. The total profit was thus divided: three-fourths to the
establishment, or 15_s._ in the pound; one twenty-fourth to the master
manufacturer, the taskmaster of the pentagon, and the turnkey of the
ward; leaving the balance of one-eighth, or 2_s._ 6_d._ in the pound to
be credited to the prisoner.
For the rest of the officers the rules were what might be expected.
The steward took charge of the victualling, clothing, etc., and
superintended the cooking, baking, and all branches of the domestic
economy of the establishment; the taskmasters overlooked the turnkeys,
and were responsible for all matters connected with the labour and
earnings of the prisoners; and the turnkeys, male and female, each
having charge of a certain number of prisoners, were to observe their
conduct, extraordinary diligence, or good behaviour. The turnkey was
expected to enforce his orders with firmness, but was expected to act
with the utmost humanity to all prisoners under his care. On the other
hand, he was not to be familiar with any of the prisoners, or converse
with them unnecessarily, but was to treat them as persons under his
authority and control, and not as his companions or associates. The
prisoners themselves were to be treated in accordance with the aims and
principles of the establishment. On first arrival they were carefully
examined by the doctor, cleansed, deprived of all money, and their old
clothes burned or sold. Next, entering the first or probation class,
they remained therein during half of the period of their imprisonment.
Their time in prison was thus parcelled out: at the hour of daybreak,
according to the time of the year, they rose; cell doors opened, they
were taken to wash, for which purpose soap and round towels were
provided; after that to the working cells until 9 A.M., then their
breakfast—one pint of hot gruel; at half-past nine to work again till
half-past twelve; then dinner—for four days of the week six ounces
of coarse beef, the other three a quantity of thick soup, and always
daily a pound of bread made of the whole meal. For dinner and exercise
an hour was allowed, after which they again set to work, stopping in
summer at six, and in winter at sunset. They were then again locked up
in their cells, having first, when the evenings were light, an hour’s
exercise, and last of all supper—another pint of gruel, hot.
The turnkeys were to be assisted by wardsmen and wardswomen, selected
from the more decent and orderly prisoners. These attended chiefly to
the cleanliness of the prison, and were granted a special pecuniary
allowance. “Second class” prisoners were appointed also, to act as
trade instructors. Any prisoner might work extra hours on obtaining
special permission. The general demeanour of the whole body of inmates
was regulated by the following rule: “No prisoner shall disobey the
orders of the governor or any other officer, or shall treat any of the
officers or servants of the prison with disrespect; or shall be idle or
negligent in his work, or shall wilfully mismanage the same; or absent
himself without leave from divine service, or behave irreverently
thereat; or shall be guilty of cursing or swearing, or of any indecent
expression or conduct, or of any assault, quarrel, or abusive words;
or shall game with, defraud, or claim garnish, or any other gratuity
from a fellow-prisoner; or shall cause any disturbance or annoyance
by making a loud noise, or otherwise; or shall endeavour to converse
or hold intercourse with prisoners of another division; or shall
disfigure the walls by writing on them, or otherwise; or shall deface,
secrete, or destroy, or pull down the printed abstracts of rules; or
shall wilfully injure any bedding or other article provided for the
use of prisoners.” Offences such as the foregoing were to be met by
punishment, at the discretion of the governor, either by being confined
in a dark cell, or by being fed on bread and water only, or by both
such punishments; more serious crimes being referred to the committee,
who had power to inflict one month’s bread and water diet and in a dark
cell. Any extraordinary diligence or merit, on the other hand, was to
be brought to the notice of the Secretary of State, in order that the
prisoner might be recommended as an object for the royal mercy. When
finally discharged, the prisoners were to receive decent clothing, and
a sum of money at the discretion of the committee, in addition to their
accumulated percentage, or tools, provided such money or such tools
did not exceed a value of three pounds. Moreover, if any discharged
prisoner, at the end of twelve months, could prove on the testimony
of a substantial housekeeper, or other respectable person, that he
was earning an honest livelihood he was to be entitled to a further
gratuity not exceeding three pounds.
The early discipline of the prisoners in Millbank, as designed by
the committee, was based on the principle of constant inspection and
regular employment. Solitary imprisonment was not insisted upon,
close confinement in a punishment cell being reserved for misconduct.
All prisoners on arrival were located at the lodge, and kept apart,
without work, for the first five days; the object in view being, to
awaken them to reflection, and a true sense of their situation. During
this time the governor visited each prisoner in the cell for the
purpose of becoming acquainted with his character, and explaining to
him the spirit in which the establishment had been erected. No pains
were spared in this respect. The governor’s character-books, which
I have examined, are full of the most minute, I might add trivial,
details. After the usual preliminaries of bathing, hair-cutting, and so
forth, the prisoners passed on to one of the pentagons and entered the
first class.
The only difference between first and second class was, that the former
worked alone, each in his own cell; the latter in company, in the
work rooms. The question of finding suitable employment soon engaged
the attention of the committee. At first the males tried tailoring,
the females needlework. Great efforts were made to introduce various
trades. Many species of industry were attempted, skilled prisoners
teaching the unskilled. Thus, at first, one man who could make glass
beads worked at his own trade, and had a class under him; another, a
tinman, turned out tin-ware, in which he was assisted by his brother,
a “free man” and a more experienced workman; and several cells were
filled with prisoners who manufactured rugs under the guidance of a
skilful prison artisan. But Mr. Holford, one of the committee, in a
paper laid before his colleagues, in 1822, was forced to confess that
all these undertakings had failed. The glass-bead blower misconducted
himself; the free tinman abused the confidence of the committee,
probably by trafficking, and the rug-maker was soon pardoned and set
at large. By 1822 almost all manufactures, including flax breaking,
had been abandoned, and the prisoners’ operations were confined to
shoe-making, tailoring, and weaving. Mr. Holford, in the same pamphlet,
objects to the first of these trades, complaining that shoemakers’
knives were weapons too dangerous to be trusted in the hands of
prisoners. Tailoring was hard to accomplish, from the scarcity of good
cutters, and weaving alone remained as a suitable prison employment.
In fact, thus early in the century, the committee were brought face to
face with a difficulty that even now, after years of experience, is
pressing still for solution.