The prisoners’ lot in Little Ilford gaol

This is the fifth and final article in the series on Little Ilford Gaol. The previous four dealt with the gaol's origins, its first thirty-year history, its final twenty years, and its ultimate demise. The fourth article looked at its governance and supervision.

An estimated 30,000 people served sentences in the gaol over its history – many of them multiple times (see later). “Average” numbers per year, or at any one time, are misleading because of the fluctuations in committals over the gaol’s history, but 60 prisoners at any one time (including ten women) and 700 prisoners over the course of a year would not have been untypical.

Treadmill, without partitions (see below) - the "hard labour" fate for many incarcerated in Little Ilford gaol - Brixton 1817

Because of the nature of the inmates sent there and the courts from which they were sentenced, the prisoners tended to be there for relatively minor misdemeanours. More serious offences were sent to the county gaol in Chelmsford, hanged, or transported to Australia (see previous articles).

This article, based on the Essex Records Office (ERO) and contemporary newspaper accounts, aims to provide a general understanding of the nature of offences committed by offenders, thereby painting a portrait of who they were likely to be. It will also examine conditions in the gaol and what “hard labour” meant in practice, including discomfort levels imposed, punishment regimes and food and dietary standards.

Newspaper articles and many of the records in the ERO provide a steady flow of details of convictions and sentences imposed on those sent to the gaol. It would be impossible to generalise too much about the fate of 30,000 individuals over a fifty-year period, but a number of trends emerge, particularly from ERO documents that help describe the lives of those committed to the gaol and the fate that befell them.

Poverty – the greatest cause

Perhaps the most obvious fact is that the single greatest cause of the majority of prisoners' incarceration was their poverty. Their circumstances and crimes show lifestyles at incredible variance with the visiting magistrates responsible for the gaol. This was not accepted at the time as a cause of their crimes; contemporary thinking saw “wickedness,” “fecklessness,” “ungodliness,” and “bad character” as better explanations for their offences.

Despite their harsh verdicts on the nature of the incarcerated, the magistrates were forced to make special provisions for the poor. As early as 1837, the visitors' report stated that "Visitors have to recommend to the court some additions to the buildings on either side of the governor's house, to place vagrants, not felons" (ERO Q/SBb 527/71).

The two most prominent visiting magistrates, John Gurney Fry and William Swanson Suart, shared fourteen and six servants with their families at different times, respectively (see last post). Many of those committed to gaol were found guilty of stealing food worth barely pennies.

As mentioned in a previous article, in an era before local police had a detection function, many offences were committed against employers, landlords, local shopkeepers, or farmers, who identified the culprit and called upon a county constable to arrest, charge them, and send them to court.

The Essex Standard of 26 May 1843 provided an account of five people committed to the goal, all for relatively minor offences. The report highlighted the arrest processes, that children as young as 11 and women were committed and that “hard labour” was often a standard part of the sentence. As far as the final case mentioned is concerned, because Colemen had a previous conviction, he was in danger of being transported to Australia for the theft of a pin (presumably a broach) had he been found guilty, which he wasn’t. The cases were:

Ellen Barry, 21 was indicted for stealing a shawl, the property of Robert Addison of Stratford Green. It appeared that the prisoner who had formerly been in his service in the neighbourhood had lodged at the prosecutors’, and the shawl was traced to a pawnbroker’s in Stratford, where it had been lodged by the prisoner. On this charge she was convicted and sentenced to four calendar months hard labour in Ilford goal.

Geo Simmons, 31, pleaded guilty to stealing a quantity of lead from the premises of JW Nyren, his master, at Leytonstone. Sentenced to four months hard labour at Ilford goal.

 Major Burton, 11, was convicted for stealing at Stratford from a shed in the possession of James Patrick Murphy, a quantity of lead: the young delinquent was stopped by a marine store dealer of trying to dispose of it. Sentenced to seven days hard labour. (It was not until the Youthful Offenders Act of 1854 that children under the age of 16 were sent to separate juvenile detention centres)

James Mumford, 16, was indicted for stealing a quantity of wearing apparel, and also the sum of 10s, the property of Thos Skiggs at Great Ilford. The prisoner took advantage of the prosecutors Skiggs’ absence from home, and stole a pair of trousers from his room (he at the time living in the same house), and in the pockets was money named in the indictment; the possession of articles was clearly traced to the prisoner. He was convicted and sentenced to six months hard labour in Ilford Gaol.

William Coleman, 18, was indicted for stealing a gold pin from Henry Barwick. He had previously been tried, in October 1841 of stealing 16 sheep, with three others. Two of the other three had been transported (to Australia). Coleman, then aged only 16 was given 12 months hard labour in Ilford goal. In the event, Coleman was found not guilty of stealing the pin. He was told in court that if he had been found guilty of stealing the pin, he too, would have been transported.

There are literally dozens of newspaper reports telling similar stories.

Essex Herald 6 June 1848

Women constituted between 10% and 20% of the gaol’s population throughout its history, and like most of the men in the above cases, they were usually there for cases of theft of small items from employers or local shops. Many were described as prostitutes in court cases, though prostitution itself was rarely the reason they faced the magistrates, but it seemed to have been used as a statement of their “bad character”, helping to explain the offence for which they were charged and cast them in a bad light.

A rare example of women being charged with prostitution per se came in the cases of two women who were also charged with creating a disturbance, as the Chelmsford Chronicle (19 November 1847) reported:

Ellen McDonald … and Emma Page were charged by the constabulary with being common prostitutes and creating a disturbance in Epping Twon on Sunday 7^th inst. Convicted and sentenced to one month’s hard labour at Ilford goal.

Hard labour

Prison governor John Anderson told the Essex Quarter Sessions in June 1844 (ERO QAGp 15) what “hard labour” would mean. “Some were put to work, others on the treadmill. Work could be tailoring, shoemaking, mat making, painting and whitewashing the gaol … working the water crank, picking oakum and turning hand cranks, of which there were three. Water was supplied via a pump, worked by five men”.

The treadmill was a punishment without product. Those allocated to it would simply walk to keep the wheel turning, for no end output but punishment.

The goal operated on the “separate system,” where prisoners were forbidden to talk to each other at any time (Anderson: “The separate system is decidedly the best system, the best form of discipline in the goal”)—hence one-person cells—see previous articles. The problem with Little Ilford’s two treadmills is that they were open (see illustration 1 below, from Brixton prison, 1817), where prisoners could talk to each other.

Anderson, again: I try “to enforce the discipline of silence and succeed generally; they do communicate, but if heard, they are punished” More than fifty punishments for breaking the silence were recorded in the previous quarter “for insubordination and misconduct on the part of the prisoners from associating with each other.”, and punishments ranged from whipping through food deprivation and solitary confinement in an unlit cell.

Anderson told the Quarter Sessions, "If you had wooden divisions (see second treadmill photograph, Pentonville 1895) on the treadmill and a turnkey walking backwards and forwards, it would prevent conversation, such is injurious to the prisoners. It would be desirable both on the treadmill and at the force pump. I have drawn attention to the visiting magistrates on the subject, and they have asked me to obtain an estimate of its cost.” 

It is not clear from surviving records whether these partitions were obtained.

Before prisoners could be placed on the treadmill, the surgeon had to certify that they were physically fit enough for the punishment and could insist on an enhanced diet for them – see later. Typically, a prisoner was required to ascend up to 12,000 feet per day on the treadmill until the 1860s, when the limit was reduced to 8,400 feet. They were expected to complete fifteen quarter-hour sessions on the wheel daily, with a five-minute break between sessions. The effort was simply punishment and literally unproductive.

Treadmill with partitions, Pentonville 1900

Picking oakum was a common form of work, and both male and female prisoners were often employed in the task (see photograph from Coldbath prison). This was picking tar out of sisal that had been used to seal the decks of wooden ships. It’s a strange task, but it was commonly used in workhouses too. The picked sisal was often sold outside the prison for mattress fillings – hence the term: “money for old rope”.

Picking oakum - "Money for old rope" - Clerkenwell House of Correction

The hand crank, of which there were three, was a machine that was installed in a cell (see etching below), and the prisoner was expected to turn it about 20 times per minute, or 10,000 times in an eight-hour shift – again without productive outcome. If a turnkey felt that the tension on the crank was too easy for a prisoner to manage, he would tighten the tension via the central screw – hence “screw”, the slang term for prison wardens.

Hand crank - Pentonville prison

Women prisoners were employed in knitting socks for the prisoners, washing and making clothes, and oakum picking too. (ERO Q/SBb 550).

Sentences for those incarcerated were typically three to six months long, mainly with hard labour. Sometimes, the product of the prisoners’ work could be sold externally, and the income received would be used to reduce the net running costs of the gaol. The Essex Herald in December 1876 (31 December) noted that over the previous quarter, the gaol had received an income of £3.6s from oakum picking, £5.9s 6d from mat making and £2 10s 6d from jute picking.

According to the same report, working hours were: “Governed by the length of the day. Commencing half an hour after unlocking (the cells) and ending half an hour before locking up for the night. Deducting three hours for meal times, prayers, attending school (often on a one-to-one basis with the “schoolmaster” in the cell), and a half hour for air (exercise yard time) and leisure”. That would mean about 10 hours of “hard labour” in summer and seven in winter—there was no artificial lighting beyond daylight hours.

As further press reports showed, these harsh punishments did not deter hungry people. The prison chaplain expressed doubts about any reforming outcome from imprisonment very soon after it opened. Oliver Lodge, in 1832, reported to the Essex Quarter Sessions that: “It is deplorable … to see some few in so wretched a state of ignorance and so far advanced in crime that in the short period of their time abiding in the prison little can be done for them.”

Recidivism, particularly for offences associated with poverty, was common. The December 1842 Quarterly returns (ERO Q/AGp 15) highlighted this, indicating that the number of people convicted for a number of offences in the gaol was: Poaching: 19 (of which for four - it was a first offence, three - the second, four - the third, two - the fourth, two -the fifth, one – the seventh, one the ninth, one – the tenth and one – the 11th). There were 12 prisoners in gaol for vagrancy at the time (of which eight were the first offence, two were the third and two were the fourth).

The Home Office was told three years later: “Over the year 64 prisoners have been in once before, 25 twice, 12 three times and 15 four or more times.”

Escape attempts were not uncommon and steps were regularly taken to prevent them. In April 1837, for example, the visitors' report noted that there had been "an increase in the height of the (outer) walls, to prevent escape, which can be done by scaling the rooves of the existing buildings" (ERO Q/SBb 527/71). 

The same report expressed concern that the recent construction of the Eastern Counties railroad, which "will pass within 20 yards of the north side of the outer wall and be about 10 feet below the surface of the ground," may encourage escapes. Reports were commissioned to offer preventative measures.

Conditions for the inmates

According to the Annual Returns of the Gaol to the Home Secretary, in October 1845 (ERO Q/SBb 550): “All prisoners before trial wear their own clothes, but are clothed if necessity requires. Convicted prisoners wear a coated dress (see etching below) and are provided with a bed filled with straw, two blankets, and a rug.” The weekly cost of keeping a prisoner under these conditions in Little Ilford at this time was estimated to be 1s 1d (less than 6p) per week.

"Coated dresses"- the uniform worn by prisoners at Little Ilford, etching from Millbank, 1873

The report continued: “Punishments for offences committed in prison: 119 solitary confinements and one whipping. During the year, there were 36 cases of sickness, with a maximum of four at any one time.”

Diet

Food and diet in the gaol provided a long-running saga, with a balance having to be struck between keeping the prisoners alive – particularly after some of the hard labour inflicted - and not providing sustenance of higher quality than the inmates could have expected outside prison, or in the workhouse.

Within two years of the goal being opened, the prisoners drafted a “Humble Petition” (see image below) claiming that the standard of food in Little Ilford was below that experienced in the County gaol in Chelmsford. This was taken seriously, and the visiting magistrates reported back to the Quarter Sessions that “Although frequently questioned, we have not heard any complaints from the prisoners. The attached petition is not based on fact … Some of the names, marked with an X, did not know about the petition or its contents”!

1832 petition from prisoners, complaining about small food portions at Little Ilford

Despite these complaints, the visiting magistrates seemed satisfied that the staff were running the gaol efficiently. Their report of April 1837 commented that they had visited at different times and "always found it in good order and discipline and that the chaplain and surgeon have constantly attended their several duties" (ERO Q/SBb 527/71).

By 1850, the Essex Herald reported that the visiting magistrates feared the standard and quantities of food supplied in the goal were higher than those prevailing in local workhouses and ordered that the quantity should, consequentially, be reduced (6 April).

Discussions were frequent on the topic, and by 1864, the Home Secretary had got involved. The Essex Herald of 5 Jul 1864 provided a detailed account of the Essex Quarter Sessions considerations on the matter.

For the first week of all terms of imprisonment from now on, the diet was to be:

Breakfast – 1 pint of oatmeal gruel

Dinner – 1lb bread

Supper – 1 pint oatmeal gruel

Quantities were gradually increased the longer the prisoner spent in gaol, so that by the time a male prisoner had served four months, he could expect to receive:

Breakfast – 1 pint of oatmeal gruel plus 10 oz of bread

Dinner – 11 oz bread every day, plus one of a)1.5lb potatoes and 3 oz cheese, b) 4 oz cooked meat and 8 oz potatoes, c) 1-pint soup and 1lb potatoes

Supper – 1 pint oatmeal gruel plus 8 oz bread.

Women prisoners were given approximately 10% less at each meal time.

The quantities of food recommended by the Home Office were so small that the surgeon was given a licence to increase them if he felt the needs of individual prisoners warranted it. Two years later, the Essex Standard was reporting:

Diet. The weekly amount of food supplied to the prisoners is according to the official dietary of 1864 (is so low that) fifteen prisoners have received extra diet by order of the surgeon for 127 days in aggregate, and the average weekly cost of food per head is 1s 11d. (9p, today, or less than £9, adjusted for inflation).

It is unclear whether the surgeon’s increased food allocation to some prisoners was because he had a relatively liberal outlook or whether the Home Office had imposed a particularly punitive regime. Whichever, food was uninspiring, but there are no recorded incidents of prisoners dying of malnutrition during the gaol’s fifty-year existence.

A snapshot of prisoner backgrounds – the 1871 census

The 1871 census provides a rare snapshot of the population of Little Ilford goal at one time. The prisoners were, for the most part, local working-class men.

There was a surprisingly low number of prisoners incarcerated on the night – only twenty men and one woman. No details are given of the offences they committed, but their ages ranged from 12 to 66, with four in their teens, eight in their twenties, four in their thirties (including the solitary woman prisoner), four in their forties and two in their sixties. It is surprising that there was a 12-year-old prisoner, as people of that age should have been placed in a juvenile institution, according to a law passed 17 years previously. He may well have been in Little Ilford on the night, awaiting transport to a more suitable location.

All bar for of them came from Essex, Middlesex or East Anglia, the exceptions being one from the West Midlands and one from Gloucester. Intriguingly, two were American-born, although they did not appear connected.

Six of the 21 were classified as agricultural labourers, three were bricklayers, two were railway workers, and two were dock workers (giving substance to the fact that the goal took prisoners captured by the Metropolitan police in the greater London area). The others came from a collection of other working-class occupations: a baker, a blacksmith, a messenger (the 12-year-old), a seaman and a seaman’s wife (apparently unrelated), a gas worker, a plasterer and a general labourer.

Conclusion

Most of the inmates were in Little Ilford goal for relatively minor offences, which received harsh punishments. The “separate system” of silence was likely to be the greatest punishment for all who were imprisoned, although most also had “hard labour” imposed on them, which was all-consuming.

Cells were small, although they often had what—compared to workhouses —seemed to offer some decent bedding, although no heat or artificial light. Clothing was standard and probably better than some of the poorer inmates had been used to outside the gaol. From the very beginning, there were real doubts about how effective the goal would be as a reforming measure, concerns confirmed by rates of recidivism.

As previous articles in this series have indicated, there was a relatively high staff-inmate ratio. Christian campaigning about prisons was probably responsible for ensuring that a higher level of religious attention and medical support was available in the goal that many of the inmates would have experienced outside.

Food provision was a real issue for the authorities, and efforts were made to keep quantities to a minimum, but at least the prisoners were fed inside, when they may not have been when they were arrested for vagrancy.

So, although it was unpleasant for all who entered the goal as prisoners, it was difficult for the authorities to impose even harsher conditions on them than prevailed on the streets and workhouses outside. This dilemma ran through the history of Little Ilford goal.

It is difficult to assess the goal's impact, either on the inmates who were incarcerated there or on the wider society who were supposed to be protected from their malign influences. The vast majority of inmates were there for crimes closely associated with their poverty. Testimony of magistrates and chaplains cited in this series of articles seems to have doubted any reforming impact a sentence in Little Ilford goal may have had on them.

Levels of recidivism, particularly for the most desperate offences (vagrancy, petty theft, and poaching), were so high that deterrence doesn’t seem to have worked as an outcome of imprisonment. Certainly, the punishment of imprisonment seems to have been severe for the prisoners, but if this were not complemented by more socially acceptable behaviour post-imprisonment, it is difficult to see its benefit rather than giving perverse pleasure to vengeance seekers.

All of which seems wearingly to summarise the impacts of imprisonment in Britain 150 years later.

 

Foornote. We are extremely grateful to Neil R Storey for his excellent book: Prisons and Prisoners in Victorian England, for the etchings that appear in this article illustrating prisoners' conditions

Little Ilford gaol’s staff and supervision

Little Ilford gaol, like its contemporaries, operated under a strict regime of regulation and supervision. Every key postholder was held to a high standard of accountability for their actions. The Essex Quarter Sessions, for instance, appointed two or three “Visiting Magistrates” from their ranks, who oversaw the gaol on behalf of the county. They came very much from the privileged end of society, as the brief biographies of two of the more significant of their number – at the end of this article – show.

Visting Magistrates

They were expected to provide quarterly reports on conditions at the establishment and to furnish detailed breakdowns of costs, responsibilities, and staff appointments.

Upon receipt of the Visiting Magistrates' quarterly reports, the Quarter Sessions were obligated to compile annual statements on the gaol's conditions for the Home Secretary. These reports, many of which are archived in the Essex County Records Office, were not kept secret. The Essex Quarter Sessions were open to the press, and summaries of the reports were regularly published in local newspapers, ensuring the gaol's operations were subject to public accountability.

As the ultimate authority, the Quarter Sessions exercised significant control over the gaol's operations. They directly appointed key personnel such as the governor, chaplain, and surgeon and required regular reports from the governor. Their influence extended to the conditions within the gaol, dictating everything from the prisoners' diets to the clothing and bedding they were provided.

The tone was set for Little Ilford gaol just before it opened at the Quarter Sessions in July 1831.

During a discussion on conditions in local prisons. William Pole Wellesley, the wastrel whose profligacy led to the destruction of Wanstead House and local MP, expressed a reasonably liberal view for the time, arguing against the imposition of the harshest conditions. 

Essex magistrate, William Pole Wellesley, the wastrel whose property adjoined Little Ilford gaol, had surprisngly liberal views about prison conditions. Etching from c 1827, a little before gaol contruction was underway. Etching couresy of Greg Roberts.

Pole Wellesley was quickly refuted by RW Hall-Dare, who was to be one of the initial visiting magistrates. The Essex and Herts Mercury of 5 July 1831 could not have been clearer in reporting Hall’s vindictive stance:

I am about in the short term to report on the state of Ilford gaol, which in a week or two will be ready for prisoners … It is the duty of magistrates to keep the prisoners in safe custody. I believe a gaol ought to be a place of suffering, so much so, indeed, as to operate on the mind and body of one in confinement in such a way as to induce him to say: “If ever I get out of this place, they shall never catch me here again” … many who are out of gaol are in a much worse condition than those confined within its wall (Hear). A gaol is intended, as it ought, to be a place of suffering; we should not only be acted upon by a sort of pseudo philanthropy, which may be pleasing to our feelings but would nevertheless operate against the best interest of society.

From the 1840s, the House of Commons published annual statistical surveys on data relating to prisons nationwide (staff numbers and pay, details of prisoners, etc.), and the Essex Quarter Sessions produced fairly detailed summaries on the conditions of the gaols and detention centres under their purview. Visiting magistrates at Little Ilford, certainly in the early days of its existence, often used these reports to provide evidence for them to embark on a race to the bottom for conditions in local gaols.

However, from the 1860s, two more liberal magistrates took on the roles—John Gurney Fry and William Swainson Suart. They were men of financial substance with significant other public service records before becoming visiting magistrates (see brief biographies at the end).

Their contributions to discussions about the gaol and proposals for changes were usually aimed at improving conditions for staff and prisoners rather than being simply cost-cutting and punitive.

Staff

Staff numbers varied a little throughout the history of the gaol, but a typical complement was eight, comprising: a governor (in 1844 paid £150 p.a.), a chaplain – always CofE (£100), a surgeon (medical officer would be a more appropriate term today) (£40), the principal turnkey (£67), assistant turnkey and schoolmaster – this post would report to the chaplain – see later (£52), assistant turnkey and baker (£52), cook and labourer (15s per week, i.e £39 p.a.) and matron (£20p.a.) (source ERO QAGp 15). [Turnkeys were what today we would call wardens].

Initially, only the governor and his family lived on the premises, but additional staff accommodation was built above the brew and bakehouses for wardens in the 1840s. During the 1871 census, staff living within the gaol included the governor, the senior warden, his wife - the assistant matron - and two other prison wardens who were lodgers in the senior warden’s dwelling.

Occasionally, there was no turnkey who could double up as schoolmaster, in which case “the most orderly and competent of the adult prisoners being from time to time employed as a teacher under my (the chaplain’s) supervision” (ERO 1832).

Staff wages varied over the gaol's history, but comparative statistics with other prisons showed that they tended to be on the low side in Little Ilford. William Stringer was the longest-serving governor, occupying the role for almost the last twenty years of the gaol’s existence, but barely saw a doubling of his pay over the period.

Interestingly, on average, there was a ratio of about 7 inmates to one staff member in the gaol, compared to about 30 children to one staff member in the children’s workhouse on Forest Lane later in the century. 

As indicated earlier, the Quarter Sessions and the visiting magistrates tightly defined the staff's working conditions and job descriptions.

The governor

The Governor was required to keep up to 30 different journals and log books about prison life, which were open to regular inspection by visiting magistrates. They included: the governor’s journal, a separate journal/day book for each member of staff, the provision dietary book, a bedding and clothing book, a quarterly account book, a ledger, a cash book and day book, prisoners received and prisoners discharged books, a prisoners’ punishment book, an inventory of books furnished by the chaplain and volumes dedicated to reports written to visiting magistrates, and the Quarter Sessions, as well as correspondence ledgers and a prisoners’ misconduct book.

In the early 1840s, the governor, John Anderson, gave a detailed statement of his daily routine to the Quarter Sessions as part of a bid for a pay rise (ERO QAGp 15). If it was accurate, he was a busy man.

He said his day started by ensuring the turnkeys were in the correct uniform, and the prisoners were unlocked and set to work by them (6 a.m. in the summer, 7 a.m. in winter). He supervised breakfast at 8 a.m. and met with the schoolmaster to review his work at 9 a.m. An hour later, he attended the chapel, supervised the service, and inspected the infirmary, yards, and cells.

During this period, he interviewed prisoners, reported any misconduct or injustices, and saw that any instructions he had previously given relating to this were being executed. He would then attend to anything requiring entry into his various journals and write any of the reports he was responsible for submitting. At about noon, he would discharge any prisoners due for release.

He occasionally attended some of the magistrates courts his gaol served, including visiting the Ilford court once a fortnight when he met up with the local magistrates. He would write “letters to the friends of all prisoners under 21, appraising them of the time they will be discharged from jail, and if any prisoners are taken ill, their friends are written to.”

He was charged with running an economically tight institution, so he proudly stated that “the cost per prisoner, per head, per day on my appointment, including staff and all other expenses was: 1841: 1/7d, 1842 1/4d and 1843 1/3d.”

Other staff

Legislation from 1814 required all gaols to have a chaplain. The relatively well-renumerated postholder usually doubled up as a local vicar with an additional stipend from the parish. He provided a detailed account of his activities in 1845, in which he described performing morning and evening services of the Church of England and preaching every Sunday.

He also performed church services on Christmas Day and Good Friday and was “always prepared to administer the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper to those who wish and be fit to receive the same.”. He claimed to frequently read scriptures to prisoners who came to him at the chapel and to instruct school classes. He provided “a sufficient number of bibles and prayer and other books of a religious and moral character” (ERO Q/SBb 550)

The Assistant Turnkey/schoolmaster reported to the chaplain and would have had a professional relationship with all prisoners – not just those of school age. He would teach religious studies and assist with reading and writing for the illiterate, based on books approved and supplied by the chaplain. Quaker influence, stressing the importance of religious teaching in prisons, is well illustrated by the etching below, showing Elizabeth Fry reading the bible to female prisoners in Newgate.

Elizabeth Fry, reading to prisoners at Newgate, showing imporatnce of religious teaching and education to many prison reformers

Like the chaplain, the surgeon or medical officer doubled up his role in the gaol with a practice outside the prison. He visited the gaol three or four times per week and “oftener, if required.” He was expected to give fairly detailed sickness reports to the Quarter Sessions.

Fewer details survive of the job descriptions of the more junior staff, although the matron—the postholders of which were usually married to another staff member—was in charge of all female prisoners and their cells and yards in gaol, as well as both male and female infirmaries, in the absence of the surgeon.

The tight regime and supervision the gaol experienced and its accountability to so many bodies, including the press, made it appear to be a scandal-free institution throughout its existence.

The life experiences of its two most significant visiting magistrates suggested an open-minded and public-spirited approach to its governance in its latter days, which was very much at variance with some of the corruption associated with many of the guardians who supervised workhouses, locally and beyond.

John Gurney Fry - biography

John Gurney Fry - 1804 - 1871

John Gurney Fry was born on 29 July 1804 in St Mildred’s Court in the City of London, the eldest son of later prisoner reformer Elizabeth Fry and her husband, banker and tea merchant Joseph Fry. When John was four, his father inherited the Plashet estate in East Ham, and John would have spent most of his childhood between there (about two miles from the site of Little Ilford gaol) and the City.

From a young age, he was immersed in the world of penal reform. His mother, Elizabeth, was not the most attentive of parents, and by the time he was nine, she began to dedicate herself to prison reform, particularly with women in mind. This early exposure to penal reform would shape John’s childhood and serve as a catalyst for his later involvement as an Essex magistrate and visitor to Little Ilford gaol.

Aged just nine, he witnessed his mother's remarkable involvement with the plight of women prisoners at London’s Newgate gaol. She established education classes and collected clothing for them. Two years later, she founded the Association for the Reformation of Female Prisoners at Newgate, and the following year—when John was just 14—Elizabeth made history as the first woman to give evidence to a parliamentary committee on prisons. These achievements were a testament to Elizabeth's dedication and a significant influence on John's future path.

When John was 17 (1821), Elizabeth established the London Society for Promoting the Reformation of Female Prisoners, where she campaigned against women being manacled in chains, the public execution of female prisoners, prison ships (hulks), solitary confinement and above all, capital punishment.

At the age of 21, John married his second cousin, Rachel. Their union was not just personal but also a consolidation of their family's social standing. Both were well-connected Quakers, and the witnesses to their marriage included prominent names such as Frys, Barclays, Buxtons, Gurneys, and Pellys. However, John's health was a constant struggle, and his illness marred the ceremony. A witness to the event noted, “It was too much for John. He was not feeling well and kept having to lie down.”

After the wedding, the couple lived in St Mildred’s Court, which was simultaneously the headquarters of the family banking and tea businesses, a family home, and a hostel for unmarried clerks working for the business.

They lived there for over fifteen years, although it was not very conducive to family life. By the time of the 1841 census, they had moved to Little Warley Lodge in Billericay, which they shared with their three children, his brother-in-law and his four children, a governess, and 13 servants. This was a farm, which John sold in 1847. He moved to Hale End in Walthamstow in 1851 with his wife, two unmarried daughters, and just seven servants!

By then, John was already an Essex magistrate and merchant with the East India Company. Having sold the farm, he could devote himself more to charitable and public service duties. Among the roles he undertook over the following twenty years were: Trustee of the City  Orthopedic Hospital (1851), Deputy Lieutenant of Essex (1852),  Chairman of the Metropolitan Free Hospital – Devonshire Square, The City, where “The friendless have immediate attention paid to their ailments” (1852) Vice President of the Agricultural Benevolent Society (1860) – with a brief to alleviate the needs of “decayed farmers, their widows and orphans” and was “a generous subscriber to the Benevolent Asylum for the Insane of the Middle Classes” (Evening Standard 10 Feb 1862).

It is difficult to fully assess John’s impact on Little Ilford gaol, as there is no definitive statement of it, but weaving through reports of his contributions, on the bench, at Quarter Session proceedings and through press reports, he seemed to be a mildly reforming character, who without his mother’s zeal, would appear to have been a force for good for the institution and its inmates.

In the late 1860s, he and Rachel moved from Hale End to Prittlewell near Southend for health reasons. Rachel died at the end of 1871, and John six months later, on 11 June 1872, of Typhoid. The Essex Herald explained the circumstances. Having presided over a meeting of Ilford magistrates on 1 June, he went home to Prittlewell and died ten days later:

His doctors agree in their opinion that his death indirectly resulted from the poisoned air of Ilford Court, and this eldest son of the great philanthropist may be said to have followed his mother’s example and to have been, perhaps indirectly, a martyr for the public benefit, for had he not been so constant an attendant to his magisterial duties, he would in all probability, have lived for many years.

William Swainson Suart - biography

William Swainson Suart was born 30 July 1814 in Liverpool and educated at Royal Military College, Addiscombe. He then received a commission in the East India Company, which effectively ran India on behalf of the British government. He became a cadet in the Royal Bombay Corps of Engineers in 1833 and married Elizabeth Murray in 1849 in that city. 

He was a civil engineer who worked on land reclamation and drainage work. He was promoted to lieutenant in 1842 and transferred to Aden as an engineer in 1847. His wife had their first child there, and he was promoted to captain the following year. He finally retired from the East India Company’s service with the honorary rank of major in November 1857 during the Indian Rebellion (Mutiny).

After his return to England, he was appointed to the Commission of the Peace for Essex on 16 October 1860 and “long acted as chairman of the Committee of Visiting Justices at Ilford Gaol”. By the time of the 1861 census, six months later, he was living in Chigwell with his wife, three children and six servants. A decade later, the family was down to three servants and just two in 1881. He played an active part in the Essex Court of Sessions, particularly in matters relating to the Beconsfield Division (of which Little Ilford Gaol was a part)”.

He was outspoken about the 1877 Prisons Act, which he described as “An Act for Abolishing the Ancient Office of Justice of the Peace”. He was interested in juvenile crime and wrote and published a pamphlet on the subject, which was apparently full of suggestions, which we have been unable to access.

Like Fry, Suart seems to have been a fair and publicly minded individual who served the court without fear or favour.

He was a governor of Chigwell Grammar School, and active in that community. He died after a long illness on 23 May 1882 (aged 69) in Bowls, Chigwell, and left an estate valued at £4,290 (twenty times a clerk’s salary of the day). (Sources: obituaries in The Essex Herald, Chelmsford Chronicle, Naval and Military Gazette and Ancestry).

Little Ilford Gaol’s final twenty years

This is the third article on Little Ilford gaol. It delves into its history, tracing its journey from its pinnacle of importance to its intriguing sale in 1880 as: “An eligible site for the erection of villa residences.” Its three acres were swiftly transformed into houses, utilising bricks and other construction materials from the prison buildings, now forming Worcester and Gloucester Roads, off the Romford Road in Manor Park/Little Ilford.

Auction document, for sale of gaol site

By 1860, the gaol's role and scope of responsibilities were under scrutiny. The Essex Standard (4 July) reported the Quarter Sessions to be pondering over whether to retain Ilford gaol solely for remand cases or construct another facility for that purpose:

 

In consequence of Ilford Gaol being within the Metropolitan Police District … it is recommended to the justices in the Ilford Division to commit all further remand cases, as well as short sentences and prisoners on trial at the Central Criminal Court (Old Bailey), to Ilford gaol and all other convicted prisoners, together with prisoners on trial at the Assizes and Sessions (in Chelmsford) to the County gaol in Springfield.

 

It is not clear which of the proposals to combat overcrowding were adopted, but by 1866, the 31st Report of the Inspector of Prisons of Great Britain noted that there had been a reduction in prisoners in Little Ilford. And, simultaneously, apparently, for the first time, indicated that several debtors were imprisoned there. Fourteen in total that year, with the average number at any time being seven – one of whom was female.

 

Changing roles

 

The Inspector’s report of that year also revealed a significant shift in the gaol's inmate population. It noted a higher percentage of all female criminal prisoners (22%) than the typical 10% in previous years. A future article in this series will delve into the nature and types of prisoners held through the gaol's lifetime and the conditions they endured.

 

By this time, there were 35 cells for males and five for females, together with a day room, a punishment cell (for solitary confinement), five reception cells, two male exercise yards, and one for females. For debtors, who were treated differently, there were four sleeping cells, one day room, and one exercise yard. The report did not mention infirmaries.

 

Although there was no “national prison system” at the time, prisons were highly regulated and closely supervised by external bodies, and parliament was very prescriptive about the conditions that prevailed within them.

 

The terms of the 1865 Prison Act had a very significant impact on Little Ilford gaol. Just as an earlier Act had deemed Barking gaol unfit for purpose (see previous article), the 1865 Act offered a real challenge to Little Ilford and its controlling bodies.

 

In January 1868, the Essex Quarter Sessions received a letter from the Home Office saying that Little Ilford did not conform to the standards laid down in the legislation and wanted proposals for addressing the shortcomings. Over the following 18 months, a considerable volume of correspondence related to the matter circulated.

 

Bid for growth

 

The visiting magistrates (supervisors of the gaol) took the challenge as an opportunity to bid for a significant upgrading of its size and status: “in the belief that the great increase in the population in the parishes near London renders such an enlargement necessary and advisable”. (Essex Standard 2 July 1869).

 

The 1865 legislation required cell sizes to be larger than they were in Little Ilford, and the visiting magistrates concluded that this could be done most cost-effectively by knocking down some partition walls and thereby halving the number of cells. This would require the construction of additional cells if the gaol’s  capacity were to be maintained, never mind increased, to cope with “the great increase in the population in the parishes near London.”

 

John Gurney Fry (Elizabeth’s son and a principal visiting magistrate to Little Ilford - for full details, see a forthcoming article) seized the opportunity to increase the significance of Little Ilford. 

The only known surviving photo of John Gurney Fry - son of prison reformer, Elizabeth

 

He proposed that 48 new men’s cells would be required, at a cost of £4,180, six additional women’s cells, at a cost of £725, and £500 would be required to convert the existing 32 cells into 16 larger ones. He proposed that a total of £5,675 would be required for adequate transformation.

 

Huge as this sum was at the time, he argued that it would be dwarfed by the estimated £30k - £40k that would be needed to build a new institution from scratch. For the much smaller sum, he insisted, Little Ilford could not only be made fit for purpose but also relieve some of the pressure on Springfield gaol by accommodating longer-term prisoners. Consequently, he stated that Little Ilford’s significance would be considerably enhanced.

 

It was probably John Gurney Fry’s greatest moment as a visiting magistrate: within two years, he had died of typhoid (the cause of which some put down to the conditions he endured in visiting the gaol – see subsequent article), his vision unfulfilled.

 

Unfulfilled vision

 

His proposals were debated in various forms around the Essex Quarter Sessions for a couple of years (see Essex Herald 17 March 1871 and Chelmsford Chronicle 6 June 1873) but never agreed upon or implemented.

 

Meanwhile, significant developments were happening elsewhere. Edmund Frederick du Cane was a prison administrator who, following the 1865 Prison Act, was instrumental in abolishing penal transportation to Australia in 1867. Two years later, partially in recognition of his achievement, he was appointed to a new role of national Director of Prisons. This was a signal for the effective “nationalisation” of the prison service, taking responsibility for them away from independent county assizes and Quarter Sessions.

 

As part of his proposals, he announced a halving of the number of prisons in Great Britain, boosting the size and importance of some and making the rest redundant. Little Ilford, undeveloped by the Fry proposals, fell victim. It is probably a coincidence, but the leading visiting magistrate at Chelmsford’s Springfield prison, which survived the cull, was Edmund du Cane’s cousin, Sir Charles du Cane.

 

The Essex Quarter Sessions received compensation from the government, to the tune of £120 per cell, for decommissioning the gaol, and was left to dispose of the facility as it saw fit.

 

The end of the institution

 

In a debate at the Quarter Sessions, John Gurney Fry’s long-term fellow visiting magistrate William Swainson Suart outlined some of the options for disposal (Chelmsford Chronicle18 October 1878):

 

The motion of Major Suart to consider and report to the next court (Quarter Session) as to the future disposal of the gaol, for the utilisation of which there are already a charming variety of objects suggested, some thinking that it would make a nice little lunatic asylum (!) or workhouse, some that it should be a hospital for infectious diseases and others that it was too ugly for anything.

 

In the event, it was sold at auction on 14 October 1880 for housing development to George Blizard, 91 Ladbroke Grove, for £3,800. Around 100 houses were built, to form Worcester and Gloucester Roads, which was still surrounded by farmland and open spaces.

 

Purchase contract signed by George Blizzard of Ladbroke Grove

The auction documentation (ERO B280 - see below) makes interesting reading. 

 

 

The auction lot was described as follows:

 

A substantial pile of buildings, a large area of garden ground … an important frontage to the main Essex Road. The total extent being nearly 3 acres. An eligible site for the erection of villa residences. The present buildings affording a large quantity of sound material … (it was) Auctioned by Messrs Beadel of Gresham Street in the City. All fixtures and fittings are included in the sale. “Ilford Prison”.

 

The existing erections have until lately been occupied for the purpose of a prison and comprise a Governor’s House, Eight Blocks of Cells opening into Twelve Yards, one of which has a Well of excellent water, a Stable and other Outbuildings, a Chapel and Court-house, with extensive offices attached. The Buildings are most substantial, the Yards and Cells paved with Bath Stone and the latter enclosed by high and massive Iron Railings, thereby affording a quantity of Building and other Material on the spot, and offering an excellent opportunity to Builders, Speculators and others, for acquiring a profitable Investment. … There is a large extent of garden ground. The whole is surrounded by a High Brick Wall, around which there is a strip of Vacant land, included in the above area.

 

Gloucester Road today, half of the 100 "villas" built on the site of the gaol, partially with materials from the gaol's buildings

 

The next article in this series will examine how the gaol was supervised and managed, and the final chapter will explore the lives and conditions of those incarcerated there.

 

The early history of Little Ilford Gaol

This, the second in a series of articles on the story of Little Ilford Gaol, examines the buildings' history from their construction in 1830 until their high point of significance in 1860. The following article will examine its final twenty years and the reasons for its demise.

As previously mentioned, the gaol was built to replace unfit-for-purpose buildings in Barking for the Becontree Hundred administrative area of Essex, which then embraced what is now Barking, Dagenham, Newham, Redbridge, and parts of Havering and Waltham Forest.

 

The new gaol was to hold prisoners sentenced by Waltham, Ongar, Epping, Ilford, Romford and Brentwood magistrates’ courts, and later, from a court built within its grounds in 1852, and later still from one constructed in Angel Lane in Stratford.

 

Official documents variously called the establishment a “gaol” and “a house of correction,” “a common gaol for prisoners for further examination and trial ... for Essex.” Those incarcerated beyond a few days were typically there for minor offences (see later). 

 

More serious offences were considered at the Quarter Sessions court in Chelmsford and committed to Springfield prison in that town. Alternatively, they were sentenced to be hung  (there were over 200 capital offences in the early years of the nineteenth century) or for transportation (often for what to us would seem fairly minor offences—sheep stealing, for example—see later). Long-term incarceration did not become a significant feature of the British penal system until much later in the nineteenth century.

 

Construction of the gaol

 

A major attraction of the new gaol site for the Essex court system was that it was on the main London – Colchester road and reasonably easily accessible to those sending prisoners. According to contemporary maps, the area was wholly agricultural at the time and appears to have been owned by the Marquis of Salisbury (see below). Quite how he came to possess the land in this part of Essex is unclear, but his presence in the area is still acknowledged by the nearby Salisbury school and road, presumably named after him.

 

2nd Marquis of Salisbury - previous owner of the land upon which Little Ilford gaol was built

The Curtis family built the gaol, substantial builders who specialised in the construction of gaols but who also won the contract for building Buckingham Palace! They may have owned the Uphall brickfield on the River Roding, about half a mile away: so – local bricks for local gaols (see here)!

 

Map showing location of the gaol, sited on "High Road, London" and on land previously owned by Marquis of Salisbury

As can be seen from the plan of the prison below, it was well ordered, with the governor having accommodation at the front of the gaol, facing what is now Romford Road, with buildings on either side of him providing a brew house (for beer for prisoners and staff at a time when water was often polluted or disease-ridden), and a bake-house, each with adjacent store rooms. Other non-cell buildings included two infirmaries (one for men and another for women) in the centre of the site, a chapel, work rooms, and a treadmill area (see later).

 

Architects' drawings of gaol at the time of construction, 1830

 

The gaol was built on the “separate system” to try to keep prisoners isolated from each other. This was done partially as punishment, partially to keep “old lags” teaching newer prisoners “new tricks,” and partly, through Quaker influences, to give prisoners silence in which to reflect on their wrongdoing and then repent and reform.  

 

The gaol layout shows the prisoner spaces to be predominantly 24 single cells, roughly 8 feet by 6 feet. In addition, 15 larger cells, 13 feet by 6 feet 6 inches, could be used for multiple prisoners who were on remand rather than those who had already been sentenced.

 

There was no heating in the gaol, even in the harshest winters. Prisoners could control temperatures slightly by opening and closing cell windows, and ventilation bricks were installed on the external walls of all cells to ensure some air circulation. There were no candles or any form of artificial light in the cells.

 

To minimise the inmates' ability to communicate with each other, the gaol had separate areas for male and female prisoners and several different exercise yards within each. As will become clear later, female prisoners were attended to almost exclusively by female staff.

 

The number of prisoners in the gaol fluctuated by season and over time, but in the 1830s, it averaged about 500 prisoners per year, with an average number of around 47 on any given day.

 

A ten-foot high wall surrounded the gaol to prevent escape, and when this seemed inadequate, additional measures were taken. So, when the Eastern Counties Railway (en route to Forest Gate and what is now Liverpool Street) was constructed in the late 1830s, a ten feet ditch was dug at the back end of the gaol, which was a little over 200 yards from the railway line, and an additional iron fence was placed on top of the wall, to make escape more difficult.

 

Escapes seem to have been rare. Although surviving records are patchy, few examples of successful break-outs survive. In almost all cases, recapture seemed pretty swift – with offenders being severely punished (whipping, food deprivation, solitary confinement in darkened cells, etc). The Annual Report to the Home Secretary, October 1845 (ERO Q/SBb 550) stated, “Two prisoners have escaped during the last year but have both been retaken. In both cases, after they scaled the outer wall from the roof of the bakehouse, the necessity of altering which is now under consideration”.

 

The “roof of the bakehouse” became an identified route for escape as the building, like that of the brewhouse, had an additional floor built on it in the early 1840s to provide more staff accommodation. The “necessity for altering” resulted in an iron fence being erected on top of the outer wall, just as it had been when escaping to the new railway line seemed a threat.

 

Increased functions and jurisdiction

 

From 1840 the Metropolitan Police, established a decade earlier, had its jurisdiction extended to parts of western Essex. That, coupled with its recently created detection function, and the beginnings of population growth in the eastern part of London, led to a greater demand for cells in Ilford gaol.

 

The next thirty years of the gaol’s existence were dominated by considerations of its exact role and scope. The gaol couldn’t cope with the increased demands the Metropolitan Police placed on it, nor the steady growth of population in the areas, so various proposals were made to solve the conundrum, including reducing the number of courts it served, narrowing the scope of offences it would cater for, as well as, of course, increasing its size to cope with increased demand.

 

The “visiting magistrates” (see later), who the Essex Quarter Sessions appointed to provide independent oversight and regulation over how the gaol was managed as early as 1842: “felt deep regret that during the past quarter, at a season when there were generally few in the gaols (spring) the numbers had been so large they could not account for them”. They obtained funds to increase the number of cells in the gaol by four in 1846.

 

By the late 1840s, the number of prisoners had increased considerably, so in 1848, 677 were confined during the year, with a daily average of 59.

 

Dealing with growing numbers

 

The reorganisation of “police courts” in the early 1850s resulted in the construction of a new court within the grounds of Ilford gaol in 1853 (see plan below). The court met every Saturday morning and usually sentenced more prisoners to terms in the gaol. This simply increased the demand for accommodation in it!

 

Architects' plans of the new courthouse, built within Little Ilford Gaol in 1850s

 

So, 879 prisoners were confined in 1853 and demands to increase the size of the prison accordingly gathered pace. The number of inmates reached its peak in 1854. At one time that year, 81 males and 18 females were incarcerated within it. The gaol, however, only contained cells for 42 males, with a workroom, day room, and infirmary consisting of two large and two small rooms being used to accommodate the surplus. Females had two sleeping cells and an infirmary of similar size to males.

 

The Essex Standard of 6 April 1855, under the headline “Increased number of prisoners at Ilford gaol”, reported that the magistrates’ committee in Chelmsford:

 

Considered how to reduce demand and recommended that in future the benches of Epping, Brentwood, Waltham Holy Cross and the Liberty of Havering, where the sentences were less than one month, should be sent to Springfield. This is estimated to reduce the demand at Ilford by 24 males and four females … But even at that, taking 1854 figures, there would still be 15 males and eight females not accounted for … especially in the parish of West Ham where the numbers were likely to be much further increased with the prospect of an increase in crime.

 

The committee responded to the increased demand for accommodation by recommending the construction of nine more cells, at a cost of £800.

 

Within a year, consideration was given to expanding Springfield gaol, handing over responsibility for dealing with prisoners captured by the Metropolitan Police to London authorities and closing Ilford gaol. No action on these considerations was taken, but additional pressures were soon placed on Little Ilford.

 

In 1858, the Essex Standard (20 October) reported that the gaol’s finances had benefited from £44 “received from the government for the maintenance of military prisoners” – presumably deserters and others convicted of felonies during the Crimean War. So, there is an added demand for space and additional functions for the gaol.

 

This was probably the high point in the gaol’s history. The next article in the series will examine its final twenty years—from this point until its eventual closure—and beyond.