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.
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| 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.
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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 7th 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.
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| 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”.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| "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”!
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| 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
