Old and New London, A Narrative of its History, its People and its Places. Illustrated with Numerous Engravings from the Most Authentic Sources. vol 2
Thornbury, Walter
1872-78
Chapter LII: Newgate (continued).
Chapter LII: Newgate (continued).
In, the year Silas Told, a worthy Wesleyan, deeply touched by a sermon preached by Wesley on the text, (Matt. xxv. ), began to exert himself among the prisoners at Newgate, and has left a graphic and simple-hearted account of his labours among them; and from this book we obtain many curious glimpses of prison life at that period. The persons Told visited were malefactors, then under sentence of death. says Told, | |
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Told's account of the execution of these men shows clearly how lawless and savage were the mobs which gathered at Tyburn. | |
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Told gives a terrible picture of the state of Newgate about -the felons swearing and cursing at the preacher, and the ordinary himself guarding the prison doors on Sunday morning, to obstruct Told's entrance. Told, however, zealous in the cause, persevered, and soon formed a society of about of the debtors, who formed his Sunday congregation. The ordinary, however, soon contrived to shut out Told from this part of the prison also. He therefore betook himself almost entirely to the graver malefactors. His account of some of these unhappy men is extremely interesting. During his visits to Newgate men of good family were lying there, sentenced to death for highway robbery. Of these, was the son of an Irish divine, others were men of fortune, and a was a naval officer, to whom a daughter of the Duke of Hamilton was engaged to be married. After an election dinner, at Chelmsford, these men, for fun, had sallied out and robbed a farmer in the highway. The king was unwilling to pardon any of the party; but at the incessant importunities of Lady Elizabeth Hamilton, at last consented to reprieve her lover, but only at the gallows' foot. He fainted when the halter was removed, and was instantly lifted into the carriage, where Lady Betty awaited him. weeks after, to Told's vexation, he found the reprieved man gambling with a fraudulent bankrupt, who shortly afterwards was himself executed at Tyburn. Told's next visit was to Mary Edmonson, a poor girl hung at Common for murdering her aunt at . The girl was entirely innocent, and the real murderer, a relation, who was a foot-soldier, came up into the cart to salute her before she was turned off. Some time after, this man riding in a post-chaise past the gallows at , said to a friend, The rascal was soon after found guilty of highway robbery, and cast for death, but reprieved by the judge, who did not wish to draw attention to the scandal of an innocent person having been sent to the gallows. Silas Told says that at the execution of Mary Edmonson he walked by the cart, urging her to prayer, holding the bridle of the sheriff's horse, in spite of a most cruel and violent mob. Told also mentions attending Harris, the to the gallows, a man who, the very morning of his execution, was so violent in the chapel that the ordinary ran for his life. Just beyond , after some exhortations of honest Told, the indomitable ruffian, at his request, shut his eyes, hung back his head on the side-rail of the cart, and after minutes' meditation burst into tears, and, clapping his hands together, cried, He then burst into a loud extemporary prayer, and continued happy to the last, but still denying that he ever a turnpikegate in his life. Another case mentioned by Told does not give us a very enlarged view of the tender | |
p.449 | mercies of the time. A poor man, Anderson, entirely destitute, was sentenced to death for taking sixpence from washerwomen in Fields. The man had served with credit on board a manof-war, and his own parish had petitioned on his behalf. The Privy Council, however, insisted on confounding him with of the same name, a celebrated highwayman of the day, and to Tyburn he went. |
In , when Mr. Akerman, of the keepers, appeared before a Committee of the , Newgate appears to have been a sink of filth and a den of iniquity. It was over-crowded, ill-disciplined, badly ventilated, and ill-supplied with water. The prisoners died in great numbers; and as Mr. Akerman, a good and trust official, stated, whole sets of gaol-officers had been cut off by gaol distemper since he had been in office; and in the spring of the gaol was so terribly infectious, that the contagion was carried into the court, and of the judges, the Lord Mayor, and several of the jury, more than in all, died in consequence. A huge ventilator was then erected, but this alarmed the whole neighbourhood, and the residents complained, with bitter outcries, that the poisonous air was drawn from the prison cells, to destroy all who lived near. | |
of the earliest anecdotes of Newgate is to be found in a letter to the Duke of Shrewsbury, dated . says the writer,
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Among the many guilty and unhappy criminals who have sat in Newgate and counted the moments that lay between them and death, of the most unhappy must have been that once popular preacher, Dr. Dodd, who was hung for forgery in . Dodd was the son of a clergyman who was vicar of Bourie, in Lincolnshire. On leaving Cambridge he married imprudently, and became a small poet, and compiler of the a work still reprinted. He then renounced literature, entered the Church, and in was appointed preacher to the , where Horace Walpole describes his flowery sermons, which set all the ladies of fashion sobbing. Gross flattery of Dr. Squire, Bishop of St. David's, procured him, in , the prebendaryship of Brecon. Soon after this the grateful bishop introduced Dodd to the Earl of Chesterfield, as a tutor to his son, and about the same time Dodd was appointed of the king's chaplains, and in took his degree of LL.D. at Cambridge. He now dabbled in lotteries, and, having won a prize, erected a chapel near Buckingham Palace, and also bought a share in Charlotte Chapel, Bloomsbury. Overwhelmed with debt, Dodd brought out several religious works, with the hope of winning patrons by his fulsome dedications. In he was appointed chaplain to the young Lord Chesterfield, the hopeless cub to whom the celebrated were addressed. The rich living of , , just then falling vacant, Dodd was unwise enough to write an anonymous letter to Lady Apsley, wife of the Lord Chancellor, offering for the appointment. The letter was traced to its source, and handed to the king, and the writer's name was ordered immediately to be struck out of the list of chaplains. Foote, always cruel in his fun, introduced Dodd into of his pieces as Dr. Simony. Dodd promised an explanation, but it never came. He retired for a time to Geneva, and the society of Lord Chesterfield, till the storm blew over. Though enjoying an income of a year, | |
p.450 | Dodd, entangled by press of debts, fatal day, signed the name of Lord Chesterfield, his old pupil, to a bond for . The signature disowned, Dodd, who then lived in , was apprehended. He at once repaid part of the money, and gave a judgment on his goods for the remainder. The prosecutors were reluctant to proceed; and Lord Chesterfield; it is said, placed the forgery in Dodd's hands, as he stood near a fire, in hopes that he would destroy it; but Dodd wanted promptitude and presence of mind, and soon after the Lord Mayor compelled the prosecution. He was tried and found guilty. Dr. Johnson, on being applied to, wrote the speech delivered by Dodd before his sentence. He--also composed several petitions for him, and a sermon which Dr. Dodd delivered to his fellow-prisoners shortly before his execution. |
In Newgate this vain and shallow man acted the martyr, and wrote a book called and believed in the possibility of a reprieve, though the king was inflexible, because in a recent case of forgery (that of Daniel and Robert Perreau, wine merchants), the sentence had been carried out. the king said,
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The friends of Dodd were zealous to the last. Dr. Johnson told Boswell that were ready for any gaoler who would let him escape. A wax image of him had also been made, to be left in his bed, but the scheme, somehow or other, miscarried. Anthony Morris Storer, writing to George Selwyn, who had a passion for executions, thus describes Dodd's behaviour at Tyburn: | |
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There is a tradition that the hangman had been bribed to place the knot of the rope in a particular manner under Dodd's ear, and also that when cut down, the body was driven off to a house in , where Pott, the celebrated surgeon, endeavoured to restore animation. But the crowd had been great, and the delay too long; nevertheless, it was believed by many at the time that Dodd was really resuscitated and sent abroad. His wife, who regarded him with great affection, died some years after, in poverty. | |
In Governor Wall was hung at Newgate, for the murder of Benjamin Armstrong, a soldier, who had been under his command at Goree, in Africa. The high rank of Wall, and the long period that had elapsed since the crime had been committed, excited great interest in his fate. He had been Governor of Goree in , and was disliked by both officers and men, for his severe and unforgiving disposition. The day before he returned to England, worn out with the climate, or men of the African corps came to petition the governor with regard to certain money stopped from their pay. The spokesman at the head of these soldiers was the unfortunate Benjamin Armstrong, who was extremely respectful in his manner, and paid the governor every deference. Wall, whose temper was no doubt aggravated by illness, instantly ordered Armstrong and his companions back to the barracks, and threatened them with punishment. The men obeyed, and quietly retired. Soon after his dinner-hour, Wall ran out of his rooms, and beat a man who appeared to be drunk, and snatching a bayonet from the sentry, struck him with it, and ordered both men under arrest. Eager for revenge on the as he called them, Wall then ordered the long-roll to be beat, and parade called. men, without firearms, were formed into a circle, deep, in the midst of which stood the drummers, and the governor and his staff. A gun-carriage was then dragged up, and Benjamin Armstrong was called from the ranks. or black slaves then lashed the unfortunate soldier to the rings of the gun-carriage, and Armstrong was ordered lashes. With unusual cruelty, the governor ordered the slaves to use, not the cat-o'---tails, but long lashings of rope, nearly an inch in circumference. Every lashes a fresh slave was called up to continue the punishment, and the governor encouraged the slaves by shouting At the end of this ferocity, Armstrong, with his back beaten black, was led to the hospital, saying he should certainly die. The rope had bruised, not cut the flesh, yet the injuries were only the more dangerous. days after the governor left Goree Armstrong died. | |
In Wall was arrested at Bath, but managed to escape from the king's messengers, at the Reading, and escaped to France, where he changed his name. Many years later Wall rashly returned to England, and in wrote to Lord Pelham, Secretary of State, announcing his readiness to submit to a trial. He was tried in . He pleaded that Armstrong was the ringleader of an open mutiny. A prisoner had been released, he himself had been threatened with a bayonet, and the soldiers had threatened to break open the stores. He denied that he had ever blown men from cannon. It was clear from the evidence that the grossest. cruelty had been used, and Wall was at once found guilty, and sentence of death passed. | |
In that curious and amusing work, Mr. J. T. Smith, formerly keeper of the Print Room in the , says:-- | |
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Sunrise, the next morning, found Mr. Smith waiting by appointment for his new friend, Dr. Ford, at Newgate; and this is how he describes the end of Governor Wall: | |
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Directly the execution was over, Mr. Smith left Newgate, where the hangman was selling the rope that had hung Governor Wall for a shilling an inch, and in a starved old man was selling another identical rope, at the ridiculously low price of only sixpence an inch; while at the north-east corner of a woman known as reputed wife of the yeoman of the halter, was selling a identical noose to the Epping buttermen, who had come that morning to Newgate Market. | |
The execution, in the year , of men, named Haggerty and Holloway, for the. murder in , of Mr. Steel, a lavendermer- chant in , led to a frightful catastrophe. The body of the murdered man was found in a gravel-pit between Hounslow and Staines, the head crushed in by the blow of a bludgeon. Nothing could be discovered of the offenders till the beginning of , when Hanfield, a convict at Portsmouth, confessed that he had helped in the murder, and disclosed the names of his accomplices. of these men, Haggerty, was a marine on board the frigate, then lying in at Deal; the other, Holloway, a thief, was then lying in Clerkenwell Prison. The informer's story was this :--The robbery had been planned at the Dyot Street, Bloomsbury, whence the men had started together to Hounslow Heath. The doomed man came at the time expected, and they knocked him down. While they were searching him a night-coach appeared, and Mr. Steele struggled to get across the road. Holloway then called out, and killed him with furious blows of a bludgeon. The evidence of this man was much doubted at the time. He had been a hackney-coachman, and a thief, and had deserted from several regiments; and it was proved that he had been heard to say, that rather than bear years at the hulks, he would hang as many men as were killed at the battle of Copenhagen. In the court, the men, who were found guilty, pleaded their innocence, and, the last act of Holloway, in the press-yard, was to fall on his knees, and declare before God that he was innocent. Haggerty also protested his innocence, but without going on his knees. On the day of execution some people assembled. Even before the prisoners appeared, several women were trampled to death. At the end of Green Arbour | |
p.454 | Court, a pieman and his basket being upset, many persons fell and perished. poor woman, feeling herself lost, threw an infant at her breast to a bystander, who passed it on and on, till it was placed safely under a cart. In part of the crowd persons died from suffocation alone. A cart, overladen with spectators, broke down, and many of those who were in it were trampled to death. Nothing could be so horrible as this fighting crowd, mad with rage and fear. Till the gallows was removed, and the marshals and constables cleared the street, nothing could be done for the sufferers. persons were killed and nearly injured in this brutal struggle. |
The execution of the Cato Street conspirators before Newgate, on Monday, , was of the most ghastly scenes ever witnessed by a London mob. Thistlewood, the leader of this conspiracy, had been in the Marines. His companions were James Ings, a butcher; Richard Tidd, a bootmaker; William Davidson, a cabinetmaker; John T. Brunt, and others. They had agreed to take advantage of a dinner at the Earl of Harrowby's, in , to which all the cabinet ministers had been invited, to break in and murder them all. Ings had resolved that the heads of Lords Castlereagh and Sidmouth should be cut off and put in bags provided for the purpose; and he particularly wished to preserve the right hand of Lord Castlereagh as a valuable curiosity. The cannon in and the were to be captured, the taken, the Bank sacked, the barracks fired, and a Provisional Government established. Pikes and guns had been collected, and hand-grenades made. The conspirators were discovered [extra_illustrations.2.454.1] , . Smithers, about the police-officer who entered, was run through with a sword by Thistlewood, and a desperate struggle then ensued. At this moment Captain Fitzclarence (son of the Duke of Clarence) arrived, with a party of the Coldstream Guards, and captured of the conspirators. Thistlewood was taken the next day, at a house in Little . | |
At the trial of the conspirators were sentenced to death, but of these were afterwards respited. Thistlewood, Ings, Brunt, Tidd, and Davidson were executed. The Government had shown the utmost anxiety to prevent a riot or a rescue. Life Guards were stationed in the , , and , and artillerymen and pieces of artillery were placed in the centre of . The scaffold was lined with black cloth, and near the drop were plain coffins, and a block for the decapitation of the criminals. Thistlewood was the to ascend the scaffold. He was collected and calm, and bowed twice to the crowd. When Mr. Cotton exhorted him to pray, and asked him if he repented of his crime, he exclaimed, several times, and was also heard to say, Tidd ran up the steps, and bowed on all sides. There was a slight cheering when he appeared, in which he made a faint attempt to join. Ings seemed mad with excitement. He moved his head to and fro, cried times, and commenced singing, There was partial cheering.. He exclaimed, from time to time, When the chaplain exhorted him, the reckless ruffian said, with a coarse laugh, Then he shouted to the silent executioner, He then waved a handkerchief times, and said he hoped the chaplain would give him a good character. Davidson, a man of colour, who had just received the sacrament, prayed with great fervency, and expressed penitence for his crimes. All he said was, and after the Lord's Prayer, he exclaimed,
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Brunt, the last who came out, requested some bystander to get him some snuff out of his pocket, as his hands were tied. He took it with great coolness, and said he wondered where the gaoler would put him, but he supposed it would be somewhere where he should sleep well: He would make a present of his body to King George the . | |
Thistlewood, just before he was turned off, said in a low tone to a person under the scaffold, At the last moment, Tidd cried out to Ings,
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At a signal given by the Rev. Mr. Cotton the platform fell. At the very instant Ings was observed to join Davidson in prayer. Half an hour after, a who received a fee of guineas, disguised in a rough jacket and trousers, and a mask on his face, appeared with an amputating-knife, and severed Thistlewood's head from his body. The hangman's man then held up the head by the hair, and exclaimed times, | |
p.455 | The same ceremony was then performed with skill on Tidd, Ings, Davidson, and Brunt. The. mob loudly hissed, and there was a deep groan from the crowd, and shrieks from the women, when Thistlewood's head was removed. When the conspirators appeared on the scaffold, the troops were ordered as close as possible to the scene of execution; but no disorder took place. of the remaining conspirators were transported for life. |
The execution of Fauntleroy, the great banker, of , , took place at Newgate, in . It was supposed that this man, by forged powers of attorney, had disposed of about worth of stock; the Bank, however, prosecuted for only worth. Such was Fauntleroy's audacity, that it is said he would sometimes forge the name of a man with whom he was conversing, and then send it, still wet, into the clerks' room, to show that it had just been written by his visitor. Singularly enough, a tin box was found in his possession, with a list of the greater part of his frauds, and this formal statement at the bottom of all:-- It was known that Fauntleroy was an epicure and a voluptuary, but his hospitality had won many friends, and no doubted his honour. He attributed his losses to building speculations. He denied embezzling . respectable witnesses vouched for his honour and integrity. The crowd at his execution, on the , was unprecedented. Every window and house-roof near Newgate was crowded with well-dressed men. Nothing had been seen like the mob since Thistlewood and his gang were decapitated. When the sheriffs entered the banker's cell, at a quarter before , he lifted his eyes sadly, bowed, but said nothing. The felon was still a gentleman. He was dressed in a black coat and trousers, with silk stockings, and dress shoes. He was perfectly calm and composed. The terrible procession formed quickly. friends gave him their arms, and he followed the sheriffs and the Rev. Mr. Cotton, the ordinary of Newgate. The moment he appeared every hat was taken off. minutes more, and his body swayed in the thick November air. | |
Only other executions for forgery ever took place in England; and in the capital punishment for that crime was abolished. The late Mr. Charles Dickens used to relate an anecdote of the last moments of Fauntleroy. His elegant dinners had always been enriched by some remarkable and matchless curacoa. of his boon companions had a parting interview with him in the condemned cell. They were about to retire, when the most impressive of the stepped back, and said,
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It was long rumoured in London, of course absurdly, that Fauntleroy, by means of his vast wealth and acquaintance, had bribed the hangman to slip a silver tube down his throat, which saved his life. More resolute people declared he had escaped to America, and had actually been seen in Paris. So legends, even in our own days, spring up and take root. | |
The murder of a poor Italian boy, by a bodysnatcher named Bishop, and another scoundrel called Williams, excited the utmost horror and alarm in London, in the year . Upwards of persons assembled to witness their execution, on the , at Newgate. These men had decoyed the poor boy to a hovel in Nova Scotia Gardens, , and had then drugged him with rum and laudanum, and drowned him in a well. At they had asked guineas for the body, and Bishop owned to having sold from to bodies, and to other murders. The public-house, in , seems to have been the rendezvous of these monsters. A great many persons were maimed and bruised at these executions, and the moment the murderers were turned off, the barriers between the gallows and were simultaneously broken asunder and torn up by the crowd. | |
In the execution of James Greenacre lent an additional horror to Newgate. This man had murdered Hannah Brown, a woman to whom he had been engaged to be married, and had then cut the body in pieces, and hidden portions of it in various parts of London, the trunk being placed in a sack, and concealed behind some flagstones, near the toll-bar, . He confessed at last that Hannah Brown had deceived him, by pretending to have property, and that night, when she called at his lodgings, in Carpenters' Buildings, , she laughed at her | |
p.456 | trick. In a rage at this, he struck her with a silkroller a blow which proved mortal, and he then formed the resolution of cutting up and concealing the body. |
The night of the execution of this wretch, hundreds of persons slept on the steps of the prison and of St. Sepulchre's Church, and boys remained all night clinging to the lamp-posts. The crowds in the streets spent the night in ribald jokes and drunken scuffles. Greenacre, when he passed to the gallows, was totally unmanned. He could not articulate the responses to the ordinary, and was obliged to be supported, or he would have fallen. His last words, with a look of contempt at the yelling and hissing crowd, were,
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Another of the celebrated executions at Newgate was that of Franz Muller, a young German tailor, in . This man, in order, it is supposed, to obtain money to get to America, murdered a Mr. Briggs, in a carriage on the North London Railway, between Bow station and Hackney Wick. The murdered man's hat, watch, and chain had been seen in the possession of the murderer, who had fled to New York. Muller denied his guilt to the last. The night before the execution there was a most disgraceful scene round Newgate. The houses | |
commanding a sight of the drop were filled with spectators, who paid for places, at prices ranging from or to a couple of guineas a head. In some instances a -floor was let for . The visitors (not always of the lower description) spent the night playing at cards and singing choruses. To of the exhortations to confession from those who visited him, Miller turned away, with the remark, As he approached the gallows he looked up at the chain with perfect self-possession. The final conversation with the German minister of the Lutheran Church in , , was to the following effect:-- | |
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Dr. Cappel was actually leaning forward and listening when the drop fell. The Germans of London had exerted themselves warmly to obtain a reprieve for Muller, and even the King of Prussia | |
p.457 | telegraphed to the Queen to request her intervention to save Miller's life. |
The execution of Francois Benjamin Courvoisier, a Swiss valet, found guilty of the murder of his master, Lord William Russell, took place at Newgate in . Lord William, who was in his seventythird year, lived alone in his house, in , , his establishment consisting of women-servants and Courvoisier, a Swiss valet. On the morning of the murder the housemaid, rising as usual, found the papers in her master's writing-room scattered about, and in the hall an opera-glass, a cloak, and some other articles of dress wrapped up, as if ready to be carried off. She instantly went up-stairs and called Courvoisier, who was almost dressed, and he at once ran | |
down, saying, They went into the room, and found Lord William on his bed murdered, and his head nearly severed from his body. When the policeman came, and asked Courvoisier to assist him, he fell back in a chair, and said, The premises having been searched, bank-notes for and , supposed to have been taken from Lord Russell's box, and several rings, were found concealed behind the skirting-board of the butler's pantry. Suspicion at once fell on Courvoisier; and on being tried and found guilty, he confessed the murder. He said that, disliking his place, he stole some plate, and had subsequently resolved to | |
p.458 | rob the house. Then before midnight his master found him in the dining-room, and suspected him of theft. On Lord William's return to his room, the thought of murder entered Courvoisier's mind. His character was gone, and he said he thought the only way to cover his fault was the murder of his master. He went into the dining-room, and took a carving-knife from the side-board. He then went up-stairs and opened his master's bed-room door. There was a rushlight burning, and Lord William was asleep. Courvoisier accomplished the murder, the old man never speaking a word, and only moving his arm a little. Courvoisier then opened a Russia leather case, took several things, and also a note, which he hid behind the skirtingboard. After he had committed this foul murder, Courvoisier went to bed, as usual, having made marks on the outer door, as if there had been thieves there. The execution of Courvoisier took place on the . His constant exclamation in prison had been, He also confessed that he had contemplated self-destruction. Upwards of persons had gathered to witness the murderer's end. Several hundreds had waited all night at the debtors' door of the , and high fees had been paid for windows, and even the roofs of the houses opposite Newgate were crowded. There was a sprinkling of women and boys in the crowd, and a distinguishable number of men-servants. As the bell began to toll, at minutes to o'clock, the vast multitude uncovered, and at minutes after the hour Courvoisier ascended the steps leading to the drop, followed by the executioner and the ordinary of the prison. A few yells were uttered, but the mass of the spectators were silent. Courvoisier's step was steady and collected, his face pale, but calm and unmoved. When on the drop he waved his bound hands up and down or times, and this was the only visible symptom of emotion. When the noose was adjusted, he lifted up his hands to his breast, as if in fervent prayer. He died without any violent struggle, his raised hands gradually sinking. His counsel, Mr. C. Phillips, was afterwards much blamed for trying to prove the police guilty of conspiracy, to obtain the large reward, when, as it was said, Courvoisier had already confessed to him his guilt; but the confession of Courvoisier was really of a much later date. |
There is still an old print extant (of which we give a copy on page ), representing that cruel old hag, Mrs. Elizabeth Brownrigg, in the condemned cell at Newgate. This celebrated murderess, who was nearly torn to pieces by the mob, on her way to Tyburn, was a parish midwife, living in Flowerde-Luce Court, . Her cruelties to her apprentices we have before related. | |
Of the cruelties of the old press-yard we have a terrible instance, in the case of Edward Burnworth, in . This man, a most daring highwayman and murderer, having refused to plead, was loaded with boards and weights. He continued an hour and minutes, with a mass of metal upon him weighing , quarters, and . He then prayed he might be put to the bar again, which the court granted, and he was arraigned, and pleaded He was, however, found guilty, and received sentence of death. | |
There is an interesting story of Mr. Akerman, of the old governors of Newgate, with whom Boswell contracted a friendship. On occasion, says Boswell, a fire broke out in Newgate. The prisoners were turbulent and in much alarm. Mr. Akerman, addressing them, told them there was no fear, for the fire was not in the stone prison; and that if they would be quiet, he then promised to come in among them, and lead them to a further end of the building; offering, in addition, not to leave them till they were reassured, and gave him leave. To this generous proposal they agreed. Mr. Akerman then, having made them fall back from the gate, lest they should be tempted to break out, went in, closed the gate, and, with the determined resolution of an ancient Roman, ordered the outer turnkey upon no account to unbar the gate, even though the prisoners should break their word (which he trusted they would not), and by force bring him to order it. said he, The prisoners then peaceably followed him though passages of which he had the keys, to a part of the gaol the farthest from the fire. Having, by this judicious conduct, says Boswell, fully satisfied them that there was no immediate risk, if any at all, he then addressed them: Struck with his courage, truthfulness, and honourable sense of duty, the felons shouted He did so accordingly; and they remained, and were all preserved. Dr. Johnson said of this man, whom Wellington would have esteemed:
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Great good was effected in Newgate by the Ladies' Prison Visiting Association, which commenced its labours among the female prisoners of Newgate in . The Quakers had originated the movement, and it soon produced its effects. [extra_illustrations.2.459.2] was the indefatigable leader of these philanthropists. The female prisoners in Newgate, before the good work began, were idle, abandoned, riotous, and drunken. There was no attempt at general inspection; the only distinction was between the tried and the untried. They slept promiscuously in large companies. Frequent communication was allowed them, through an iron grating, with visitors of both sexes, many of them more degraded and desperate than themselves. The good effected was rapid and palpable. The worst women became quiet, orderly, and industrious; the whole of them grew neater and cleaner; many learned to read; others sat for hours knitting with the ladies who visited Newgate. of the committee, if possible, visited the prison daily, and observed the cases of the individual prisoners. The prisoners' patchwork, spinning, and knitting were sold for them, and, if possible, part of their earnings was put by, to accumulate for their benefit when they returned to the outer world. Schools were started for the children and the grown-up women. The governesses were chosen from the most intelligent, steady, and persevering of the prisoners. A careful system of supervision was also established. Over every or women a matron was placed, who was answerable for their work, and kept an account of their conduct. A ward woman attended to the cleanliness of the wards. A yard woman maintained good order in the yard, and the sick room was ruled by a nurse and an assistant. These managers were all prisoners, selected from their orderly and respectable habits, and these situations became the best badge for good conduct. The female prisoners assembled every day in the committee-room, to hear the bible read, or a prayer delivered, by the matron or of the visitors. The women, on being dismissed, says Mr. J. J. Gurney, returned to their several employments, with perfect order and obedience. The women grew very honest among themselves. In no less than manufactured articles of work not article was stolen. The best proof of amelioration was the fact of the great decrease of re-commitments between and . Many of the women kept under supervision by the committee preserved good characters as servants, or earned an honest livelihood at home. Several of the women, on discharge, received small loans, to help them on, and these loans they repaid by most punctual weekly instalments. At the end of , Sir T. F. Buxton obtained a return of the re-commitments on the male side of Newgate, and it appeared that out of men of those convicted had been confined there before within the previous years. The returns on the female side, since the Ladies' Association had reformed the prison, were not more, as compared with the male side, than as to . It had at time been as to . Can anything more be said to prove what a great good women may effect, who look upon female prisoners not as brute beasts, to be punished and despised, but as souls, to be won back and reclaimed? They softened these women's hearts, and tenderly restored them to humanity. The object of justice, in their eyes, was to reform, not merely to punish. Hence the kind look did more than the lash--the soft word than the hard fetter. The good work has, since those days, been carried further, and there is still much to do. | |
The memorable escape from Newgate was that of Jack Sheppard, a thievish young London carpenter, in . This hero of modern thieves (mischievously immortalised by [extra_illustrations.2.460.1] ) had been condemned to death with a rogue named Blueskin, for stealing cloth from a Mr. Kneebone, a draper in , to whom [extra_illustrations.2.460.2] had formerly been apprenticed. The whole story of his adventures shows the loose discipline of Newgate at the time. Considering the lad was a practical carpenter and locksmith, and probably bribed the gaolers heavily, we see no great miracles in his escapes, which only needed cleverness, knowledge of wood and iron work, and steady perseverance. On the occasion Jack, during an interview with female friends in the lodge at Newgate, broke a spike off the hatch, and, by the assistance of the women, being slim and flexible, was pulled through the opening, and so escaped. Retaken at Finchley, the angry turnkeys gripped the young thief with handcuffs, loaded him with heavy irons (such as are still fastened above the side doors of the prison), and chained him to a stout staple in the floor of a strong room called There people of all ranks came to | |
p.460 | see him, and all gave money to the young lion of the hour, but extreme care was taken that no sympathisers should pass him a chisel or a file. Jack was, however, eager for notoriety, and resolute to baffle the turnkeys. He chose a quiet afternoon, when most of the keepers were away with their amiable charges at the Sessions. With a small nail he had found he loosened his chain from the floor-staple, then slipped his small thievish hands through his handcuffs, and tied up his fetters as high as he could with his garters. With a piece of his broken chain he worked out of the chimney a transverse iron bar that stopped his upward progress. The keepers smoked and drank, and left Jack alone with mischief. Once on the airy roof, Jack, quick at breaking out of prisons, now tried his hand at breaking in, for, to force a way to the chapel, Jack broke into the Red Room, over the Castle, having found a large nail, with which he could work wonders. The Red Room door had not been unbolted for long years. Jack forced off the lock in short minutes, and got into a passage leading to the chapel. To force a strong bolt here, he broke a hole through the wall, and, with an. iron spike from the chapel door, opened a way between the chapel and the lower leads. more doors flew open before him; over a wall, and he was on the upper leads. At this crisis, requiring a blanket, to tear up and make a rope for his descent, he had the courage to go back for it, all the way to his cell, and then, making a tough rope, he fastened it with the chapel spike, and let himself down on the leads of a turner, who lived adjoining the prison. Slipping in at a garret window, he stole softly down-stairs, and let himself out (a woman who heard his irons clink thought it was the cat). Passing the watchhouse of St. Sepulchre, he went up , and hid himself in a cow-house, near . The next day he bribed a shoemaker to procure him a smith's hammer and a punch, and rid himself of his irons, the last souvenirs of Newgate. A few nights after, this incorrigible scamp broke into a pawnbroker's shop in , stole a sword and some coats, snuff-boxes, rings, and watches, and rigged himself out in black, with ruffled shirt, diamond ring, silver-hilted sword, gold watch, and other suitable garnishings. nights afterwards, getting drunk with his mother near his old haunts, the young thief was seized and thrown again into Newgate, no more to; escape. Sir James Thornhill painted his portrait in prison, and, after an unsuccessful plot to rescue him at Turnstile, he was hung at Tyburn. An opera and a farce were founded upon his adventures, and a preacher in the city is said to have thus spiritualised his career:-- |
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The condition of things in ancient Newgate was deplorable. When the contagious fever broke out, | |
p.461 | there were no less than prisoners crowded within the walls. It was not till that, through the exertions of Sir Richard Phillips, a Committee of the Common. Council passed a resolution for building a new prison for debtors, and in the debtors were transferred from Newgate to the Compter. In a Parliamentary Report of , the following statement appeared of the way in which the chaplain's duties were performed:-- The prisoners were allowed to drink and gamble, and their amusement was the repeating stories of past villany and debauchery, says Howard, Those who refused to associate with the criminals were submitted to mock trial, in which the oldest thief acted as judge, with a towel, tied in knots on each side of his head, for a wig; and he had officers to put his sentences into execution.
or was demanded of all new prisoners. was the order; and the prisoner without money had to part with some of his clothes, to contribute towards the expense of a revel; the older prisoners adding something to the paid by the new comer. The practice of the prisoners cooking their own food had not been long discontinued in . |
Even in the Inspector of Prisons found fault with the system within the prison. The prisoners were allowed to amuse themselves with gambling, card-playing, and draughts; sometimes they obtained, by stealth, says a writer in Knight's the luxury of tobacco, and a newspaper. Sometimes they could get drunk. Instruments to facilitate prison-breaking were found in the prison. Combs and towels were not provided, and the supply of soap was insufficient. In their Report of , the inspectors say,
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Footnotes: [extra_illustrations.2.454.1] in a loft in Cato Street [extra_illustrations.2.459.2] Mrs. Fry [extra_illustrations.2.460.1] Mr. Harrison Ainsworth [extra_illustrations.2.460.2] Sheppard |
