The authorities at Millbank now wished to set their house in order. With the publication of this parliamentary report, the managers of Millbank awoke all at once to the true condition of the prison. On account of the repeated “irregularities” laid before them, they now considered it necessary to ascertain whether any, and what abuses existed; and whether there were any and what defects in the system upon which the prison was conducted. The whole subject was therefore entrusted to a sub-committee, which, after some months of patient investigation, was of opinion that all the irregularities arose from “the too great intercourse which the present system permits prisoners to hold with one another. The comparatively ignorant are thus instructed in schemes and modes of vice by the hardened and the depraved; and those upon whom good impressions have been made are ridiculed and shamed out of their resolutions by associating with the profligate.” We have here an admission that one of the old evils of prison life—indiscriminate association—which was to have been abolished by the Penitentiary system, was still in full vigour, and that in fact it had never been interfered with.
The committee arrived therefore at the conviction “that the prosperity and well-being of the establishment must depend upon effecting a more strict seclusion of the prisoners, one from another.” At the same time a new chaplain, Mr. Whitworth Russell, who became largely identified with prisons and penal discipline, urgently recommended a greater development of religious instruction. He proposed that in future the open part of the Millbank chapel should be provided with benches, so that he might assemble daily, large classes for religious instruction. To these classes he was to devote three hours every morning, the schoolmaster performing the same duty in the afternoon. During the morning instruction by the chaplain this schoolmaster had to visit the prisoners, cell by cell, either collecting information, as to the previous habits and connections of the prisoners, or carrying on the instruction commenced at school or the lectures in chapel. In this we find the key-note of the new system that was from now on to prevail with increasing strength, till by and by, as we shall see, it grew to be altogether supreme.
Never since the opening of Millbank, in 1817, had the spiritual welfare of the prisoners been forgotten, nor the hope abandoned of reforming them by religious influences. But now, and for years to come, the chaplain was to have the fullest scope. Whether much tangible benefit followed from his increasing ministrations, will be best shown in the later development of the narrative; but it cannot be denied that the efforts of Mr. Whitworth Russell, and of his successor, Mr. Nihil, who in himself combined the offices of governor and chaplain, were praiseworthy in the extreme. Speaking, however, with all due reverence, I cannot but think that their zeal was often misdirected; that conversion, such as it is, obtained by force almost, could never be either sincere or lasting; and in short, that the continued parade of sacred things tended rather to drag them into the mire, while the incessant religious exercises—the prayers, expositions, and genuflexions, were more in keeping with a monastery of monks than a gaol full of criminals.
There are numberless instances scattered up and down among the records of the sort of spirit in which the prisoners received their sacred instruction. It was the custom for a monitor, specially selected from among the prisoners, to read aloud the morning and evening service in each ward. He was frequently disturbed. Once when Balaam’s name appeared in the lesson, it was twisted into “Ba—a—Lamb!” and as such went echoing along with peals of laughter from cell to cell. The monitor was frequently called upon for a song just before he gave out the hymn; others mocked him as he sang, and sang ribald verses so loud as to drown the voices of the rest; many said they couldn’t sing, and nothing should compel them; often they would not join in the Lord’s Prayer—there was no law, they said, to make them say their prayers against their will. Then a certain Joseph Wells, an old offender, was reported for writing on his pint cup these lines:—
| “Yor order is | but mine is |
| for me to go | that I’ll go to |
| to chapel, | Hell first”; |
and when remonstrated with, he merely laughed in the governor’s face. There was constant antagonism between the prisoners and their comrade the monitor, generally over the church catechism, in which, as a species of chaplain’s assistant, the latter had to instruct the others. “What’s your name?” he asked one. “George Ward; and you know it as well as I do,” replied the prisoner. Another read his answers out of the book. The monitor suggested that by this time he ought to know the catechism by heart. “Ah, every one hasn’t got the gift of the gab like you have. And look here, don’t talk to me again like that, or you’ll be sorry for it.” Again, as a proof of the glibness with which they could quote scriptural language, I must insert here a strange rhapsody found on a prisoner’s slate. He pretended to be dumb, and when spoken to, he merely shook his head and pointed to the writing, which was as follows:
“My kind Governor,—I hope you will hearken unto me, as your best friend; in truth I am no prophet, though I am sent to bear witness as a prophet. For behold my God came walking on the water, and came toward me where I stood, and said unto me, Fear not to speak, for I am with you. Therefore I shall open my mouth in prophesies, and therefore do not question me too much; but if you will ear my words, call your nobles together, and then I will speak unto you of all he has given me in power, and the things I shall say unto you shall come to pass within 12 months; therefore be on your guard, and mind what you say unto me, for there be a tremor on all them that ear me speak, for I shall make your ears to tingle. And the first parable I shall speak is this: Behold, out of the mire shall come forth brightness against thee.”
This man, when brought before the governor, continued obstinately dumb. The surgeon consulted was satisfied he was shamming, but still the prisoner persisted in keeping silence. “Is there any reason why he should not go to ‘the dark?’” the surgeon was asked. “Certainly not; on the contrary, I think it would be of service to him,” answered the surgeon; and to the dark he was sent, remaining for six days, till he voluntarily relinquished the imposture.
The energy and determination of the new chaplain, who was appointed about the time the new system was established, were very remarkable. He was a man of decided ability, and his influence could not fail to be soon felt throughout the prison. Perhaps in manner he was somewhat overbearing, and disposed to trench on the prerogative of the governor as to the discipline of the establishment. He soon came into collision with the prisoners. Many “tried it on,” as the saying was, with him, but signally failed; and any who were guilty of even the slightest disrespect were immediately punished. Mr. Russell constantly reported cases of misconduct. Thus, having asked at school, whether any present had been unable to write on coming into prison, a man named Fleming, answered, “Yes! I could not.”
“You have every cause to be thankful, then, for the opportunities afforded you here.”