A Prisoner’s Life
“To collar at breakfast or supper an extra drop of “skilly” (gruel) is considered a masterpiece of strategy, and this is generally managed by placing some obstruction - a piece of oakum or something or that sort - in such a position that the cell door does not properly close, and the officer is deluded by the occupant, who presses it firmly when he is trying it.”
-“A Prisoner’s Life in Newcastle Gaol - By One Who Has Experienced It”, Newcastle Courant, April 11, 1879
It is rare thing to have access to the perspective of prisoners in Newcastle Gaol, so the following account is important in demonstrating what it felt like to be imprisoned behind those walls. The author of this article provides us with some wonderful details on prison dress, diet, and punishment. This has been transcribed in full.
On the 1st day of April 1878, the borough gaol of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, in common with the other borough and county prisons throughout the United Kingdom, was by Act of Parliament handed over to the Government. Two, amongst many important objects sought to be effected by this legislative change, were the abolition of useless prisons and the creation of a uniformity of treatment in discipline and diet in the existing ones. Under the old system of local control, a great many abuses had crept in; some prisons had the reputation of being under a very mild rule, whilst others bore a character quite the reverse. Such a condition of things was manifestly unfair, and had a tendency to develop crime in those localities where its discovery did not entail a punishment sufficiently deterrent. One would scarcely think that the modern Jack Sheppard, Dick Turpin, or Charley Bates would ever be so far-seeing as to take into consideration the quality of the accommodation which would be provided for him, if any of his exploits should bring him into collision with his natural enemies - the police, and subsequently his conduct be unfavourably reviewed by the magistrates or a jury of his fellow-countrymen. Yet it is well known to the police, prison officials, and others well qualified to form an opinion upon the subject, that such considerations do enter into the minds of a large section of the criminal population, especially amongst the hardened and incorrigible vagabonds who perpetuate what is termed professional crime. Under the new regime, however, Messrs Sheppard, Turpin, and Co. will find, should it ever be their lot to make the acquaintance of the interior of what are now known as Her Majesty’s prisons, that considerable changes for the worse have taken place in those favoured retreats where formerly they could rely upon a comparatively easy period of restraint. It may not perhaps be uninteresting to our readers if we give the recent experience of an individual, whose imperfect view of the laws of meum and tuum, caused the machinery of the law to be put in motion against him, with a result of a forfeiture of his liberty for a term. Of course the information which he is able to furnish, is only such as could be acquired by observation from a prisoner’s point of view, which is by no means a “coign of vantage”. His story is as follows:-
On a certain date in the middle of last year, and for an offence which I need not specify, I was “presented at court” compulsorily by the police, convicted and sentenced by a bench of the great unpaid then sitting at the Central Police Court, Pilgrim Street, to a term of six months’ imprisonment with hard labour in Her Majesty’s prison of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. I was promptly bundled down this small flight of stairs leading from the dock, and showed into one of the cells where I found three more unfortunates, whose business had been settled by their “worships” before the case, in which I was so deeply interested, came on. There I was informed we should have to remain till the rising of the court, and the necessary papers relating to our sentences were made out for the guidance and satisfaction of the prison authorities. Two of my three companions were old “gaol birds”, and in high glee at what they considered a lucky arrangement of their little affair. Society was only to lose their valuable services for a period similar to my own, and they had quite made up their minds before going into the dock, that through the “black list” of previous convictions against each of them they would be “fullied”, by which they meant fully committed for trial at the sessions or assizes, where in all probability they would have received a much heavier punishment than the magistrates of this court are empowered to inflict. The seemed especially to have a wholesome dread of an interview with the Recorder at quarter sessions. The other prisoner owed his incarceration to conjugal infelicity; he had tinted the “optics” of his “better half”, impaired her vision and general tractability, and caused her successfully to seek legal redress. He paced up and down the cell like a hyena, and uttered threats of vengeance to be accomplished on his liberation. The arrival of some cold beef and bread and tea sent by his relenting wife, however, somewhat mollified his temper, and put him in a better frame of mind. The door of our cell was again opened for the admission of three more victims - all bitten by the brewer’s dog, and having to undergo short periods of imprisonment owing to their disability or disinclination to pay certain fines and costs which the Bench had thought proper to impose. One of the newcomers, with an air of triumph, produced a “cutty” pipe, some tobacco, and half a dozen matches from the inside of one of his stockings - all of which contraband had escaped the inquisitive eye of the officer who searched him when taken into custody. The pipe was soon charged and lighted, and the entire company sat down upon the wooden bench, which does duty as bed, chair, table, and enjoyed the soothing weed after the fashion prevailing amongst the “red warriors of the far west”. About seven o’clock our door was again thrown open, and the stentorian voice of an officer summoned us all out into the corridor, where a sergeant called over our names; we were then fettered in pairs with the handcuffs, or “snips” as they are generally called, and marched into the office of the station, where we found our escort waiting to convey us down to the prison. With a policeman gripping each of our coat-collars and two or three more in our wake, we received the order “Forward!” and commenced our short but undignified march down the narrow lane leading to the portals of the gaol, with a sympathising mob alongside of us, composed principally of small boys, unbonneted women, and “roughs” from that odoriferous locality - the Stockbridge. A sharp twitch of the bell-handle by our foremost guardian was readily responded to by the warder on duty at the entrance, the massive door was thrown open, and we marched in to find our further progress barred by a strong iron gate, which was not opened until the outer door had been carefully closed upon us. We passed through the gate, took a sharp turn to the right, where another small door was unlocked, and we were admitted into a small passage, ranged against the wall and relieved of our “bracelets”. The chief warder, who has been made aware of our arrival, quickly appears upon the scene, and ascertains that he has the individuals before him corresponding with the papers handed over to him by the police. This done, the responsibility of the police for our safe keeping ceases, and that of the prison officials begins, and the former take their leave. We are next sharply ordered forward in Indian file up two or three steps, and find ourselves, after passing through another iron gate, in the “reception” room of the prison, and are handed over by the chief warder to his subordinate in charge of that department. We are then all placed in a small cell and ordered to undress. Those who can read may here make themselves acquainted with the rules of the establishment, as a copy of them hangs upon the wall. These are few in number and easily comprehended. Strict silence night and day is to be observed. The prisoner is not to communicate by word or sign with his fellow prisoners. He must not unnecessarily look about him either at work, at divine service, or in passing from one part of the prison to another, but is required to look straight before him. He must be industrious in the occupation provided for him, and comply promptly with the lawful orders given by those placed in authority over him. He must not barter provisions, or injure, or deface any of the tools, books, bedding, &c., committed to his care. Out of this cell we are taken one by one into a well lighted room, where the warder seats himself at a desk. Each man is required to place himself in front of this officer without a particle of clothing. His personal appearance - congenital or other marks, height, age, place of birth, religion &c., are recorded. A list of his property is read over to him, and his clothes are collected and placed in a net, and after the warder has satisfied himself that his charge has no prohibited articles of any description about his person, he is ushered into a closet in a corner of the room, where he finds a warm bath ready for him. This he is obliged to hurriedly use, and in a half-dried state he is hustled out, presented with a bundle of prison garments, and thrust into another cell to dress. On opening his bundle he discovers a jacket, waistcoat, and trousers of a dirty whitey-brown material, something between corduroy and canvas, with a glaring yellow and white stripe on them, and the mystic monogram “N.G.” (Newcastle Gaol) stencilled in various conspicuous positions. A “pork-pie” cap, shoes and stockings, shirt, under-shirt, drawers, braces, and stock complete his apparel. A towel, comb, wooden spoon, and a morsel of soap are also given. As soon as each of us has undergone the inspection and bath and donned his livery, we are again formed in single file and marched across the prison yard into a long rectangular building, the glazed roof of which may be observed from the outside skirting almost he entire length of the wall on the east side of the prison. Within this structure separate cell accommodation is provided for about 250 male prisoners; these cells are built in four tiers, one above the other, which are known as the A, B, C, and D flats, the upper ones being reached by flights of iron stairs at one end and a spiral stone staircase at the other. The opposite sides of these upper flats are connected by bridges exactly in their centres, and these bridges distinguish the north from the south wing, the latter having been built on to the former some few years ago. The south cells are larger, have bigger windows, and generally are of an improved style to those situate in the north wing. When artificial light is used, the occupants of the north, however, are better served than their brethren in the south, as their gas burns within the cells, while the southerners lights are outside, and through thick half-inch squares of rough cast plate glass, faintly illuminate their abodes. As soon as our party entered this building, we were each presented with a pasteboard number corresponding with the cells we were each destined to occupy, and this number is to be continually worn on the breast of the jacket. It fell to my lot to be confined in the south wing, and here I lost sight of my companions, and was shown by a warder to my own particular lodging. After getting me inside, he thrust in what is dignified by the title of a plank-bed - two planks about six feet by one, secured side by side with crosspieces, which gave a slight elevation to one end. He pointed out my supper - a lump of dry bread - facetiously remarked that I had better quietly find out the softest portion of the planks and prepare for sleep as the gas would shortly go out, banged to the door, double-locked and bolted it, and took his departure. When left to myself I found that I was for some time being the owner of a tolerably commodious apartment, about fourteen feet by ten feet, with a window of twelve panes; the furniture consisting of a rough table, stool, shelf, and earth closet. A basin for ablutions, and a “kit” for cleansing operations, with a tap supplying cold water ad libitum, are also to be found. A bell-handle, which, when pulled, rings a bell in the corridor, and causes the hinged number on the cell to start from the wall and plainly indicate to the warder on duty where he is wanted, is provided. A tin pannikin, holding a pint, an earthenware pot for drinking purposes, together with the toilet requisites and wooden spoons served in the reception room and three large rugs, complete the not very luxurious apartments.
With the aid of those rugs and the plank beds I managed to make a tolerably comfortable resting-place, and in the arms of Morpheus soon found a happy release from the care and anxieties of the - to me - eventful day. At 5.45 A.M. three strokes of a bell announces the commencement of another working day, and if they fail to awaken any sleeper, the creaking of locks and banging of doors, which shortly follow, will do the business. Each cell door is opened by a warder, and the occupant asked if he is “all right”, and told to place outside of the door his tin pannikin, if it be required, to contain any portion of his breakfast. At six o’clock each prisoner is supposed to be washed, dressed, have his bedding neatly folded up, and himself ready to commence work. At that hour a bundle or “task” of oakum about 4lbs. in weight, was handed to me. This is a day’s work; it must be thoroughly teased out, and the impression which an hour or two of labour at it makes upon the mind of a novice is that it is and always will be a complete impossibility for him to complete the task. The officials do not expect a new hand to work off his oakum until he has had a few days’ practice, and to my surprise I found myself able in time to pick a sufficient quantity to enable me to escape the “bread and water” diet which is often the penalty attached to neglect or inability in this work. Oakum-picking I consider a very monotonous, unpleasant, and oftentimes aggravating job, and after two or three weeks of it I was heartily sick and tired of it.
After the expiration of one month, I became entitled to a hammock and mattress as a substitute for the plank bed. By this time I had become pretty well acquainted with the prison arrangements and routine. The prison is, and has been for many years, governed by Mr Thomas Robins, a gentleman who in an eminent degree possesses the suaviter in modo, as well as fortiter in re, which his arduous and frequently unpleasant duties exact. He is assisted by the deputy-governor (Mr Joseph Little), another old and zealous official, and the “male” side of the prison requires the services of a chief-warder and a dozen ordinary warders - of whom about seven only are available for the ordinary supervision of prisoners’ labour, exercise, &c. One is required to devote the principal part to the kitchen where the extensive cooking operations are carried on under his eye by prisoners whose good conduct has entitled them to promotion to such a responsible and much-sought-after post. Another officer is in constant duty at the entrance; another’s employment chiefly consists in the reception and discharge of prisoners and their outside friends, and two more are acquired for night duty only. It must be borne in mind that what I here record applies - except when otherwise explained - to the male department of the prison. About the portion of it devoted to the reception of females, I know little or nothing, save that the women are located in a building similar in appearance to, though much smaller, than that for the men, and which can be seen by outsiders as it runs parallel with the northern wall. It is presided over by a matron who is assisted by a deputy, and small staff of female warders. The gaol is daily visited by the surgeon (Dr Hardcastle) whose duties of course extends to both departments, and any females who desire to see him may do so. The chaplain (the Rev. Mr Bowlan) also devotes his services to both departments, and is assisted by the schoolmaster (Mr Robert Smith) who in the male department imparts elementary instruction to those who require it, looks after the correspondence of prisoners, and distributes the books from the prison library. The changes which Government rule has effected in this always well managed prison cannot, in my opinion, be considered additionally hard upon prisoners in general. The majority are still employed at oakum picking and the rest find work in mat making, ship fenders, and in stone breaking. Shoemakers and tailors respectively find employment in making and repairing the prison shoes and garments; blacksmiths, joiners, and tinners have facilities for plying their respective crafts, and all the extensive white-washing and cleaning is effected by prison labour. In the House of Commons, the Home Secretary has recently intimated, in reply to the query of an honourable member, that it is the intention of the Government in future to curtail those productive prison industries which compete unfairly with outside ones, and to confine them to the simple manufacture of such things as are required only in prisons. This will increase the cost of maintenance of prisoners, as it will necessitate the substitution of other penal and useless labour such as shot drill, the treadmill, and crank. Longer hours of labour and stricter application to work are now enforced, but corresponding advantages are offered to prisoners, who may, by increasing industry and good conduct, earn a trifling gratuity payable on their discharge. A system of marks is instituted, and upon a card fixed upon each cell door is recorded every week the number of marks which each man has obtained. So many of these marks represent coin of the realm to be paid him on his release, and 2d or 3d a week may be earned, which in six or twelve months mounts up to a respectable little sum, which must be very acceptable to many a homeless discharged one, and in all probability will give him a chance of securing a job of some sort, when, if sent out penniless, a sudden relapse into crime would be almost his only resort. The greatest innovations in old usages which the Government have made in this gaol are in the diet and the infliction of the plank bed. The dietary has undergone a complete change, and on the whole I consider prisoners are better fed than formerly, though those undergoing short terms, such as seven days, fourteen days, or a month, are sharply dealt with. The new dietary in force now in every prison throughout the country is divided into four classes, as follows: -
Class 1.- Breakfast, 8oz bread; dinner, 1 pint of stirabout (composed of equal portions of oatmeal and Indian meal; supper, 8oz bread.
Class 2.- Breakfast, 1 pint gruel and 6oz bread; dinner, Mondays and Fridays, 1/2lb potatoes and 6oz bread; Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, 1/2 pint of soup and 6oz bread; Wednesdays and Sundays, 6oz suet pudding and 6oz bread; supper, 1 pint gruel and 6oz bread.
Class 3.- Breakfast, 1 pint gruel and 8oz bread; dinner, Mondays and Fridays, 3oz cooked English beef or mutton, 8oz potatoes, 8oz bread; Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, 1 pint soup, 8oz potatoes, 8oz bread; Wednesdays and Sundays, 8oz suet pudding, 8oz potatoes, 4oz bread; supper, 1 pint gruel and 6oz bread.
Class 4.- Breakfast; 1 pint porridge and 8oz bread; dinner, Mondays and Fridays, 4oz cooked English beef or mutton, 8oz potatoes, 8oz bread; Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, 1 pint soup, 8oz potatoes, 8oz bread; Wednesdays and Sundays, 8oz suet pudding, 8oz potatoes, 6oz bread; supper, 1 pint porridge and 8oz bread.
Prisoners sentenced to terms not exceeding one month are placed upon class 1 for the first seven days, and class 2 for the remainder of the term. Those undergoing sentences over one month, and not exceeding four months, receive second-class for the month, and third-class for the remaining portion of their time, while those whose captivity extends beyond four months, and fourth class till the expiration of their term. The authorities have power to substitute for the English beef or mutton - American or Colonial beef or mutton at 3 1/2 oz and 5oz respectively to the recipients of third or fourth class diet. Bacon and beans, salt or fresh fish may be given, and various vegetables may be served in lieu of potatoes. During my stay I never experienced any changes in the food except in the Monday’s dinner, when bacon and haricot beans were supplied - 1/2 oz of bacon and 7oz beans to third-class men, and 1oz bacon and 9oz beans to fourth-class men. The bacon is cut in thick “nubbly” pieces, and if a prisoner desires to dispose of it gradually with a fair accompaniment of vegetables he will have to perform some rather dexterous manoeuvres with his fingers or his wooden ladle. For myself on such occasions I may say that I felt very much in the predicament of an old hen when she is trying to circumvent a full-grown unripe gooseberry. The monotony of the oatmeal breakfasts and suppers is somewhat relieved by their being alternately seasoned with salt and sweetened with molasses, and after a prisoner has undergone nine months incarceration, he may, if he chooses, have on three mornings a week a pint of cocoa and an additional 2 ounces of bread in lieu of his gruel or porridge. The dietary for females and boys under sixteen years of age is similar to the above, though on a slightly reduced scale. Prisoners on remand or committed for trial, receive a diet somewhat approaching class 3rd, which is rather severe, in my humble opinion, upon persons who, in the eyes of the law, are presumably innocent until proven guilty.
Formerly, prisoners undergoing one month or less, were the only ones who had to undergo the hardship of the plank bed, but now the first month of every inmate of the gaol must be endured in its company. After the month is up, if industry and conduct is satisfactory, a hammock and mattress replace it. Breakfast is served at eight, dinner at noon, and supper at six o’clock. The distribution of the meals is accomplished in about ten minutes, each tier of cells being attended by a warder, and two prisoners, dubbed “flatsman”, whose duty it is also to keep their respective flats perfectly clean. The post of “flatsman” is a desideratum on account of the frequent release from the irksome solitude of the cells which it affords, and the numerous opportunities it presents for the capture of a stray “bread” potato or other edible. From Mondays to Fridays prisoners on hard labour are kept at work from 6 A.M. till 7.30 P.M., when those who have tools of any description are required to place them as well as their work, outside of their cells. On Saturdays, about 4.30 P.M. the ordinary work of the week ceases, and preparations have to be made for the Sunday. Each has to thoroughly scour out his cell, polish up his table, stool, and utensils, and insert himself into clean underclothing, which is regularly supplied. He will then probably find himself with two hours of leisure for the first time in the working week, as the deputy governor or chief warder at eight o’clock each night makes a tour of the prison, and puts the usual “All right?” to each man. The cell doors are then double-locked and bolted, three strokes of a bell give notice of bed time, and a few minutes after the gas is turned off, and silence reigns within. One of the warders on night duty walks the prison yards, while the other, in canvas slippers, noiselessly patrols the flats. The chapel is situated on the second floor of a building in the centre of the space inclosed by the massive forty feet wall, and the residence of the governor and his deputy adjoin it. The chapel is semi-circular in form, is divided into compartments holding about a dozen, and is approached by bridge from the male and female prisons. Divine service after the fashion of the Church of England is held here twice every Sunday, and on every week day morning prayers are read at nine o’clock. The warders are seated in front of the congregation, and keep a strict watch. Yet breaches of the rule requiring all silence are of frequent occurrence at chapel; many a conversational shot is fired off under the cover of the responses, and it is amusing to hear the elegant neatness with which some culprit can dovetail the end of a response into a secular remark of his own, when some quick-eared and lynx-eyed warder has “spotted” him. A Roman Catholic clergyman attends every Sunday to minister to the wants of those of that faith. At ten o’clock every morning, the Governor himself visits every cell, settles the punishments to be inflicted upon those reported for misbehaviour, and inquires strictly into any complaints made by prisoners, who may rely upon prompt redress when real grievances exist. Any one dissatisfied with the decision of the governor, can apply to the visiting justices, one or more whom pay visits at frequent intervals, and have his case re-heard, and the governor’s decision reversed, if need be. The visiting justices may in their turn be over-ruled by the Government Inspector for the Northern District (Major Griffiths), who periodically visits and minutely examines the entire arrangements. The principal punishments inflicted for ordinary breaches of discipline are forfeiture of marks, close confinement to cell, and bread-and-water diet. For repeated offences, and the more serious ones such as assaults on officers, window breaking, &c., confinement in a dark cell on bread and water is reserved, and the Governor has power to order personal chastisement if he thinks fit. Prisoners who labour in-doors on week days have half-an-hour’s exercise in one of the yards, and on Sundays also after a certain number of marks has been earned. They are marched round in single file, and those who are conversationally inclined may here find opportunities of indulging, though at considerably greater risks of detection, than when in chapel. The “county crop” is no longer administered; the hair when it requires cutting is operated upon in the ordinary way, unless its luxuriant filthiness affords a shelter to vermin, when the surgeon may order a clean sweep. Shaving is abolished, though some manage to perform it with the knives used at their work. Tobacco is the great want, and every new comer is pestered with applications for “bit o’ snout”. “Snout” is “gaelic” for tobacco, and, notwithstanding the strict scrutiny of the reception room, small quantities of it now and again find their way inside. One gifted being confided to me a plan which he meant to put into practice on his next committal, and by which he said he could get in a hatfull, and I really believe it would be perfectly feasible at certain seasons of the year. Ubiquitous and Argus-eyed as the officers generally are, they are powerless to detect a great many of the offences committed by prisoners, though I dare say they achieved as much in that direction as is possible for ordinary human effort and ingenuity to accomplish.
To collar at breakfast or supper an extra drop of “skilly” (gruel) is considered a masterpiece of strategy, and this is generally managed by placing some obstruction - a piece of oakum or something or that sort - in such a position that the cell door does not properly close, and the officer is deluded by the occupant, who presses it firmly when he is trying it. When the flatsman is serving out the meals, the door must be slyly opened at the right time, the extra supply secured, and the door properly closed before the warder following at his heels opens it again for the inmate to take in the regular supply. Talking between those in adjoining cells is made easy by the perforations in the walls, laboriously made with a bit of wire, which can be got from the rim of a dinner tin. The cells are frequently visited in consequence of these offences, the holes are plugged up with wood, and prompt punishments await those whose offences can be clearly brought home to them. An officer on a cell-inspecting tour once called upon me, and, finding nothing wrong with the walls, this zealous and conscientious functionary made a hole, and plugged it up. Prisoners are allowed to receive a visit once in every three months, and in the same period of time may write and receive one letter. The correspondence is to be confined to personal matters, as it is allowed only “for prisoners to keep up a connection with their respectable friends, and not that they may hear they the news of the day;” and all letters sent out and received are read by the governor, and any objectionable matter suppressed. Visits are paid in the presence of a warder, who sees and hears everything that passes, and they must not extend beyond a quarter of an hour. The position of a warder I should judge is not much of an improvement on that of the prisoners under him: he has long hours, Sunday work, and is by no means overpaid, considering the great responsibility which rests upon him, the temptation to infidelity with which he is beset, and the constant risk of personal injury he undergoes. I can scarcely attempt to describe the feeling which possessed me, when I completed my time and found myself in my ordinary habiliments outside the prison walls; the cheerful feeling which the Turkish bath induces is a faint approach to it. In conclusion I may say that I firmly believe that prison discipline, as it is now applied, does exactly what it is intended to do. It is a severe punishment, but it is also reformatory: regular hours, plain and nutritious food, and strict temperance improve the health of the body, while the frequent religious instruction and exercises do as much for the soul, and a prisoner - of there is any good in him at all - advances to society a wiser and a better man.
