morbid horror of it; and Coleridge and Southey, many years later, published their opinion that it exceeded hell itself as a place of punishment : "As he went through Coldbath-fields, he saw A solitary cell; And the devil was pleased, for it gave him a hint In 1820, Thistlewood and the other Cato-street conspirators were lodged here, before being sent to the Tower. At present, the prison has proper accommodation for 1,250 prisoners, though many more are sometimes thrust into it, causing great confusion of system. It will be readily conceived that it is no easy task to keep this number of persons-reckless and violent as they are, unaccustomed to restraint, and confined against their wills by force-in subjection and order. Indeed, the management of a great metropolitan gaol demands qualities in the governor of the rarest growth. To command a vessel or a regiment is comparatively easy; to plead in Westminster-hall, or to rule in Downing-street, is a thing any man can do at least, such is the theory on which our governors act. But a person must have peculiar faculties, and the benefits of a severe training, to discharge the duties of such a post as the office of governor to a great prison. Hence the office is usually conferred upon persons who have served with success in the army or navy-strict disciplinarians, men who have learned to obey as well as been used to command. As an instance of the tide of vindictive passions against which the officers of prisons have to contend, a recent case of murder in this prison may be mentioned. The fellow who committed it-Hewson-was one of the most diabolical criminals ever born into the world. He had committed a rape upon his own daughter, had compelled her to live with him in incestuous intercourse; the result of which was, that two or three children were born, all of which the monster, one by one, made away with. These multiplied and horrible crimes— rape, incest, infanticide—were not, however, enough to bring the demon to the gallows. Some links were wanting to complete the chain of evidence against him; the prosecution for the principal offence, infanticide, had to be abandoned; the wretch was tried for incest, found guilty, and condemned to two years' imprisonment in Coldbath-fields. He was a man utterly dehumanised by his guilt: morose, stupid, rebellious, he fired up at a slight but welldeserved rebuke for a gaol offence, and conceived the malignant project of assassinating the governor. Days, weeks, months passed on, and he found no opportunity of putting his scheme into execution. But efflux of time did not melt him; reflection brought no change in his wicked purpose. Yet all this time he attended church regularly. For three months he kept the fatal knife secreted upon his person, all the while waiting with the patience of a demon for a favourable opportunity to commit the murderous act. That, on a sudden inspiration he used the fatal weapon, reserved for Colonel Chesterton, against a subordinate officer, is still fresh in the memory of He was executed for it-few men ever every one. deserved death better; and he then confessed his former crimes. His poor daughter, the enforced partner in his guilt-an object at once of disgust. and interest is still in the female prison, apparently reconciled to her situation, and improving in health and cheerfulness. It is in the midst of passions like these, seething in the hearts of 1,200 criminals, not separately confined as at Pentonville, that the administration of this vast prison has to be conducted. The official staff consists of the governor, 2 chaplains, 1 surgeon, 3 trade instructors, and 134 assistant officers; in all 141 persons: a corps rather too small than too large considering the nature of the duties devolving upon it. Without system, or without a system rigorously administered, it would be impossible to maintain order in such a place, unless each individual was kept under lock and key, as in the neighbouring House of Detention. Passing through an inner gate to the left, we come upon a yard in which we find a number of prisoners taking walking exercise, marching in regular order, and in perfect silence. All of these are habited in the prison uniform, a good, warm dress of coarse woollen cloth; the misdemeanants in blue, the felons in dark grey. Each prisoner wears a large number on his back, which number constitutes his prison name and designation, proper names not being used in this gaol. Every kind of personality, that can possibly -R be sunk, is sunk. The subordinate officers of the prison seldom know anything of the real name, station, crime, connexions, or antecedents of the person who is placed under their charge; and this kind of knowledge, except in rare cases indeed, never comes to the ears of fellow-culprits while within the walls of the prison. Some of the men, it will also be noticed, bear stars upon their arms; these are marks of good conduct, of great value to the wearer when in the gaol, and entitling him to a certain allowance on discharge, varying according to circumstances from five shillings to a pound. These allowances are often the salvation of offenders. The governor tells us several anecdotes of persons who have been discharged with small gratuities for good conduct and industry. There are given by order of the magistrates-one of their wisest regulations. The offender is often in his most trying position on discharge; sometimes he is without a friend or a shilling in the world, with no home and no resources. What is then before him? His resolution may be good enough; but the prison diet is now removed, and what is he to do? If the mind of the prisoner be untouched by any good feeling, he will go wrong in spite of means.-There, in one of the yards, we may see a fellow, an excellent workman, who was discharged only a few weeks since with three or four pounds in his pockets, and was committed again next day with all his money upon him. Such cases are not at all unfrequent. But in the instance of a person really penitent, and desirous of living honestly, it is a mournful thing to think how many obstacles lie in the way of his return to society and to better courses. "A short time ago," says the courteous and communicative governor, we discharged a man, a brushmaker. He was steady and industrious. He declared that he was penitent and penniless; that he wished to avoid committing any new offence, but knew not how to avoid it. He had no credit; and, as to character, he was only just going out of gaol. Fifteen shillings, he said, would save him from relapsing into crime. The magistrates considered his case; we gave him a trifle in money and some brushes from the stores, and discharged him. Several months after, I saw him in the country; he had with him, slung over his shoulder, from 51. to 71. worth of brushes for sale. He declared we had made him a new man. He had remained a teetotaller, and was flourishing in the world!" Such cases must be very gratifying to the humane magistrates. With wise administration, no funds may be more profitably invested. Those fifteen shillings will probably save the country hundreds of pounds. Prevention is cheaper, as well as better, than punishment. Crossing the yard, we enter a shed, built by the labour of prisoners, on one wing of the principal buildings, and find ourselves in a large workshop, in which a considerable number of persons are industriously employed in weaving mats and rugs. This is, in fact, the best-looking room in the esta |