The preference given to the Pentonville system destroyed all hopes of a complete reformation of Newgate. But the condition of the great city gaol was evidently considered a reproach by the city authorities, and a year after the opening of the new “model” at Pentonville, a serious effort was made to reconstruct Newgate. In 1845 the Gaol Committee brought forward a definite proposal to purchase ground in the immediate vicinity for the erection of a new gaol. This gaol was nominally to replace the Giltspur Street Compter, the site of which was to be sold to Christ’s Hospital, but the intention was of course to embody and absorb old Newgate in the new construction. The proposal made was to purchase some fifty thousand square feet between Newgate, Warwick Lane, and the Sessions House, “the situation having been proved by long experience to be salubrious.” But when this suggestion was brought before the court of aldermen, various amendments were proposed. It was urged that the area selected for purchase must be excessively costly to acquire, and still quite inadequate for the city needs. The Home Secretary had laid it down that at least five acres would be indispensable, and such an area it was impossible to obtain within the limits of the city. Now for the first time the Tuffnell estate in Holloway was mentioned. The Corporation owned lands there covering from nineteen to twenty acres. Why not move the city prison bodily into this more rural spot, with its purer air and greater breathing space?
Eventually Holloway was decided upon as a site for the new city prison. The necessary preliminaries took some time, but the contracts for the new building were completed in 1849, when the works were commenced. The prison was to contain four hundred and four prisoners, and the estimated expenditure was £79,000. It was to accommodate only the convicted prisoners sentenced to terms short of penal servitude, and after its completion the uses of Newgate were narrowed almost entirely to those of a prison of detention. It was intended as far as possible that, except awaiting trial, no prisoner should find himself relegated to Newgate. This principle became more and more generally the rule, although it has never been punctiliously observed. Now and again misdemeanants have found their way into Newgate, and within the last few years one offender against the privileges of the House of Commons.
With the reduction of numbers to be accommodated, there was ample space in Newgate for its reconstruction on the most approved modern lines. In 1857 the erection of a wing or large block of cells was commenced within the original walls of the prison, and upon the north or male side. This block contained one hundred and thirty cells, embracing every modern improvement; it also contained eleven reception cells, six punishment cells, and a couple of cells for condemned criminals. This block was completed in 1859, after which the hitherto unavoidable and long-continued promiscuous association of prisoners came to an end. In 1861 a similar work was undertaken to provide separate cellular accommodation for the female inmates of Newgate, and by the following year forty-seven new cells had been built on the most approved plan. During this reconstruction the female prisoners were lodged in Holloway, and when it was completed, both sides of the prison were brought into harmony with modern ideas. The old buildings were entirely disused, and the whole of the inmates of Newgate were kept constantly in separate confinement.
With the last re-edification of Newgate, a work executed some seven centuries after the first stone of the old gaol was laid, the architectural records of the prison end. Nothing much was done at Newgate in the way of building, outside or in, after 1862. The Act for private executions led to the erection of the gallows shed in the exercising yard, and at the flank of the passage from the condemned cells. The first “glass house,” or room in which prisoners could talk in private with their attorneys, but yet be seen by the warder on the watch, had been constructed, and others were subsequently added. But no structural alterations were made from the date first quoted until the time of closing the prison in 1881. But in the interval very comprehensive and, I think it must be admitted, salutary changes were successively introduced into the management of prisons. Newgate naturally shared in any advantages due to these reforms. I propose, therefore, to refer to them in the concluding pages of this work, and thus bring the history of prison discipline down to our own times.
The last inquiry into the condition and management of our gaols and houses of correction was that made by the Lords’ Committee in 1863. The inquiry was most searching and complete, and the committee spoke plainly in its report. It animadverted strongly on “the many and wide differences as regards construction, labour, diet, and general discipline” which existed in the various prisons, “leading to an inequality, uncertainty, and inefficiency of punishment productive of the most prejudicial results.” The varieties in construction were still very marked. In many prisons the prisoners were still associated, and, from the want of a sufficient number of cells, the principle of separation was still greatly neglected. Yet this principle, as the committee pointed out, “must now be accepted as the foundation of prison discipline,” while its rigid maintenance was in its opinion vital to the efficiency of the gaols. Even where cells had been built they were frequently below the standard size, and were therefore not certified for occupation as was required by law. Great numbers were not lighted at night, and were without means by which their inmates could communicate, in case of urgent necessity, with their keepers. Still greater were the differences with regard to employment. The various authorities held widely different opinions as to what constituted hard labour. Here the tread-wheel was in use, there cellular cranks, or “hard-labour machines.” Both, however, varied greatly in mechanism and in the amount of energy they called forth, while the former was intended for the congregate labour of a number, and the latter, as its name implies, imposed continuous solitary toil. At other prisons “shot-drill,” the lifting and carrying of heavy round shot, was the favourite method of inflicting penal labour. With these differences were others as opposed concerning industrial occupation. The gaol authorities often gave the highest, possibly undue, importance to the value of remunerative employment, and sought to make profitable returns from prisoners’ labour the test of prison efficiency. In this view the committee could not coincide, and it was decidedly of opinion that in all short sentences the hard labour of the tread-wheel, crank, and so forth should be the invariable rule.
In dietaries, again, the same wide diversity of practice obtained. The efforts made by Sir James Graham years before to introduce uniformity in this particular had failed of effect. The Secretary of State’s suggested scale of diet had seldom been closely followed. In some places the dietary was too full, in others too meagre. Its constituents were not of the most suitable character. More animal food was given than was necessary. Vegetables, especially the potato, that most valuable anti-scorbutic, was too often omitted. In a word, the value of diet as a part of penal discipline was still insufficiently recognized. The prisons were still far from inflicting the three punishments, hard labour, hard fare, and a hard bed, which Sir Joshua Jebb told the committee he considered the proper elements of penal discipline. It is interesting to note here that the committee of 1863 fully endorsed Sir Joshua’s recommendations as regards a “hard bed,” and recommended that “during short sentences, or the earlier stages of a long confinement, the prisoners should be made to dispense with the use of a mattress, and should sleep on planks.” This suggestion was adopted in the Act of 1865, which followed the committee’s report, and of which more directly. Clause 92, Schedule I. of that act authorized the use of plank beds, which were adopted in many prisons. They are now the universal rule, introduced, as was erroneously supposed, by the prison commissioners appointed under the Prison Act of 1877. Their origin it will be seen dates back much further than that.
Beds might well be made hard and their use strictly limited. According to this committee of 1863, beds in the smaller and most carelessly conducted prisons formed a large element in the life of a prisoner. In one gaol fifteen hours were spent in bed out of the twenty-four. This was in keeping with other grave defects and omissions. The minor borough prisons were the worst blot on the still dark and imperfect system. They were very numerous, very imperfect in construction and management, and they were very little required. In them, according to the committee, the old objectionable practices were still in full force. There was unrestrained association of untried and convicted, juvenile with adult prisoners, vagrants, misdemeanants, felons. There were dormitories without light, control, or regulation at night, which warders, dreading assault, were afraid to enter after dark, even to check rioting and disturbance. Prisoners still slept two in a bed. In one prison the bedsteads had been removed lest the prisoners should break them up and convert them into weapons of offence. The prison buildings were in many places out of repair; other houses often overlooked them. A single officer was the only custodian and disciplinary authority in the gaol. Complete idleness was tolerated; there was neither penal labour nor light employment. The prisoners inter-communicated freely, and exercised the most injurious, corrupting influences upon one another. The total want of administration was very marked, but in one prison it was such that the prisoners’ food was supplied daily from the neighbouring inn, and the innkeeper’s bill constituted the only accounts kept. The committee might well suggest the abolition of these gaols, or their amalgamation with the larger county establishments in their immediate neighbourhood. Some idea of the comparative uselessness of these small borough prisons was conveyed by some figures quoted by the committee. In 1862 there were in all one hundred and ninety-three gaols in England and Wales; of these, sixty-three gave admittance during the entire year to less than twenty-five prisoners; twenty-two others received between eleven and twenty-five; fourteen received less than eleven and more than six; while twenty-seven received less than six prisoners, and were in some instances absolutely tenantless.
The result of the recommendation of the committee of 1862 was the Prison Act of 1865, the penultimate of such enactments, many of the provisions of which still remain in force. The main object of this act was to compass that uniformity in discipline and treatment generally which had long been admitted as indispensable, and had never as yet been properly obtained. The legislature was beginning to overcome its disinclination to interfere actively or authoritatively with the local jurisdictions, although still very leniently disposed. However, it now laid down in plain language and with precise details the requirements of a good gaol system. The separation of prisoners in cells duly certified by the inspectors was insisted upon, also their constant employment in labour appropriate to their condition. Hard labour of the first and second class was carefully defined. The former, which consisted principally of the tread-wheel, cranks, capstans, shot-drill, was to be the rule for all convicted prisoners throughout the early stages of their detention; while the latter, which included various forms of industrial employment, was the boon to which willing industry extending over a long period established a certain claim. The infliction of punishment more or less uniform was thus aimed at. On the other hand, new and careful regulations were framed to secure the moral and material well-being of the inmates of the gaols. The law made it imperative that every prison should have a prison chapel, and that daily and Sunday services should be held. The chaplain’s duties were enlarged, and the principle of toleration accepted to the extent of securing to all prisoners the ministrations of ministers of their own form of belief. Steps were taken to provide the illiterate with secular instruction. No less close was the care as regards preservation of health. Stringent rules were prescribed for the prison surgeons; every prison was ordered to keep up an infirmary, and the medical supervision was to be strict and continuous. Dietaries were drawn up for adoption on the recommendation of a committee of experts. Baths were provided, ablutions ordered, and all appliances to insure personal cleanliness.
The administration of good government was to be watched over by the local magistracy, certain of whom, styled visiting justices, were elected to inspect the prisons frequently, to examine the prisoners, hear complaints, and check abuses. Under them the governor or gaoler was held strictly responsible. The books and journals he was to keep were minutely specified, and his constant presence in or near the gaol was insisted upon. His disciplinary powers were defined by the act, and his duties, both in