Compare Documents

WHERE OSCAR WILDE IS IN JAIL.

The most famous prison, from the fact that it has sheltered more than the usual number of famous crooks within its walls, is Pentonville Prison, or, as it is better known, the "Model" prison of all England. Within it is now confined Oscar Wilde, poet, playwright, and felon, and it is now, for that reason alone, a curiosity in the criminal world. It is, further, a fair example of the average English prison.

Possibly the first thing that strikes the mind of the visitor to the present home of Oscar Wilde is the exquisite cleanliness of the prison. In the dainty private home of a New York woman of fashion no more attention is paid to cleanliness than in Pentonville. All the floors in the institution are of cut stone highly polished, and all of the walks are of carefully kept street asphalt. Unlike American prisons, there is no trace of that "prison smell" which is the first thought that strikes the visitor to an institution where convicts are punished in the land of the free. The care taken in ventilating and airing Pentonville prison is a point which is not always looked after all over England, it may be confessed, but in this case care is certainly taken to reach a decided condition for good.

The prison interior is divided into four long corridors, which radiate from a centre like ribs in a woman’s fan. All of the corridors are stone paved and are well lighted by glass in the arches of the roof. Like the interior of the new prison in the Tombs, the walls on each side of the corridors are pierced by light iron balconies and steps. This delicate tracery of iron work is joined here and there across the corridors by narrow bridges, where guards sit day and night in commanding positions which overlook the corridors, with their teeming population of criminals locked in the cells which range along them. To the observer there is none of that horrible semi-darkness of the interior of an American prison. The main feature in the center structure seems to be an effort to gain a bright, cheerful and airy building. Even the windows do not partake of the barred and grated style so apparent in America. The frames of all the windows are of cast steel, but the window frames themselves are made so small as to serve as light givers and safeguards as well.

HOW THE CELLS ARE FURNISHED.

The cells are 13 feet long, 6x7 feet in width, and 9 feet in height. Some of them contain looms for carpet weaving, but in that case the cells are nearly twice as large as the ordinary ones. Against the wall on one side is placed a bright copper hand basin with a water faucet near it. A small closet well supplied with water pipes occupies one corner of the cell. A shaded gas jet is in a convenient point in the wall, while there are shelves for the spoon, platter, mug and soap box of the prisoner nailed upon the wall at one side of the door. During the day the upper of these shelves is used for the rolled up hammock of the prisoner and his bedding. When night comes the hammock is slung about three feet from the ground to iron braces set in the walls of the cell, which gives the advantage of a good bed and one that does not take up room in the daytime. A little table and a stool makes up the remainder of the furniture of each cell, while on the walls of each is placed the rules of the prison, which convicts must carefully obey.

GARB OF THE PRISONERS.

The prison garb of a drab canvas, shot plentifully with broad arrows, is fully as beautiful as the drab and pale yellow striped cloth of the New York state prison convicts at Dannemora, Auburn or Sing Sing. With each suit is furnished two changes of plain white cloth underclothes, a Scotch cap and heavy cowhide shoes. All convicts in Pentonville prison are known as soon as they become prisoners by numbers. If a man before he became a prisoner bore the proudest title in the peerage of England, Scotland, Ireland or Wales, he becomes upon his entrance to the institution only a number. He is A 2,174 or B 5,051, as the case may be, and he must wear at his breast at all times a big brass badge bearing his number. "Look out, there, A 2,174," sings out a guard when addressing a prisoner. And all through the prison life of a convict only this number is used. It would puzzle even the warden of the prison to tell the name of a prisoner without reference to the records, upon which opposite his name and number stands the Christian and surname of the convict.

Prisoners are by no means starved in Pentonville. The allowance for breakfast to each convict is ten ounces of bread, three-quarters of a pint of cocoa, with two ounces of pure milk and two drachms of molasses. For dinner half a pint of soup, four ounces of meat, beef or mutton alternately, five ounces of bread, and one pound of potatoes is the menu. For tea each man gets a pint of gruel made of an ounce and one-half of meat and sweetened with five drachms of molasses, with five ounces of bread. In case of a certain line of punishment these rations are reduced. The most salutary form of punishment is in the docking of rations. The prisoner will give in quicker when placed on a starvation diet than for any other cause.

USE OF THE TREADMILL.

In the prison there are four stages of services. In the first class the prisoner has to perform first-class hard labor for a certain number of hours in each day. That means he has to work in the treadmill or upon what is known as the "cranks." The treadmill, or treadwheel, is not a particularly useful machine. The prisoners call service upon it "treading the wind," and that is about what it is, for it seems to serve no useful purpose, except to keep prisoners employed when there isn't anything else for them to do. Each tread wheel or mill is so constructed that if necessary twenty-four men can be employed upon it at a time. The mill is divided into twenty-four little compartments or stalls. Each compartment is something less than twenty-four inches in width and is separated from the adjoining one by high wooden partitions. The mill is connected with a fan, which is so arranged as to give enough resistance to the mill to make the words "hard labor" mean what they say. There are twenty-four steps in the wheel, which are eight inches apart. This makes the circumference of the wheel sixteen feet. The wheel performs thirty revolutions in each quarter of an hour, and each man walks on an average of fifteen quarters of an hour a day. So he ascends something like 7,200 feet, or 2,400 yards, for a day's labor.

THE DAILY ROUTINE.

A big bell in the prison summons the prisoners to work at 6:30 every morning. Men hurry to the treadmills, the cranks or report in files under charge of a guard to the "trade instructor," who sets them at work. Carpets are woven on looms in the cells, shoemakers bustle at their work, oakum pickers hurry to duty, and so on it goes all over the prison. Every convict must work, whether he only "treads wind" or aimlessly turns cranks or is busy at some vocation. For an hour the prison hums with the sound of labor. Then, at 7:30 o'clock, breakfast is served to each prisoner while at work. Work continues until 11 o'clock and then the prisoners are marched in long files, lockstep fashion, to exercising yards. In each yard is a long rope with knots about fifteen feet apart, so that 230 prisoners can get on the rope at a time. Each file of 130 men grasps the rope and then at brisk paces for fifteen minutes whirl round in a circle. The idea of keeping the men fifteen feet apart is to carry out the idea of separate confinement. The only possible time that the prisoners can communicate is when in lockstep, but then they cannot speak to each other, so closely are they watched. At 12:30 o'clock daily dinner is served, and then work begins again and his continued until 5 o'clock, when another fifteen minutes is devoted to exercise. At 5:30 o'clock the convict has his supper of gruel and bread, and a little before 6 o'clock lanterns are given to the prisoners and the gas in the prison is lighted. From 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. the prisoners are allowed to read, but at the latter hour all the lights are put out except one or two in the corridors.

THERE is a vast and complicated system of prisons in England, where persons amenable to the laws are confined. English law, says the New York Journal, is peculiar in that it reaches a result quicker than out in the United States. A man in the clutches of the English law gets his sentence and begins his time of punishment quicker than in America. But at the same time there may be taken into consideration the old saw that quick haste makes less speed. English law gives penalties for something like five subdivisions of crime. Capital offenses are punished by hanging inside of prison walls. Next in line comes the crimes for which penal servitude from five to life-long years is the penalty. Then comes the numberless offenses, for which the punishment is imprisonment, with or without hard labor. This latter imprisonment is usually applied for all offenses which are punishable with imprisonment when the sentence is not punishable with penal servitude. Sentences of this kind are usually given from one month to ten years. Money fines for misdemeanors, which are served out in jails, make another subdivision. When comes the question of the confinement of prisoners from one to five years in Houses of Correction.

England and Wales together have fifty-seven prisons, while Scotland brings up the rear with fourteen, making a grand total of seventy-one institutions. In addition, there are the local prisons, or penal institutions, in the city of London, which will swell this list still higher.

Early in English history every class of criminal was huddled together much the same way as in vogue in the average State Prison in America. But in 1823 the English took a step which America might well follow. They decided to separate prisoners into classes. It gives a sort of criminal quarantine, and stops the spread of vicious infection which is bound to come when the morally dead associate with the beginner in crime.

Of all the prisons, the most famous from the fact that it has sheltered more than the usual number of famous crooks within its walls, is Pentonville Prison, or, as it is better known, the "Model" prison of all England. Within it is now confined Oscar Wilde, poet, playwright and felon, and it is now, for that reason alone, a curiosity in the criminal world. It is, further, a fair sample of the average English prison.

Pentonville Prison is a series of buildings walled all around with insane asylum-like windows. Entrance is gained through a portcullis gateway, with a square porch flanked with by a square clock tower. It requires a Government order to inspect the prison, but anyone interested in the confinement of convicts has no trouble in gaining the necessary permit at the Home Office of the English Prison Department at Whitehall, S. W.

Possibly the first thing that strikes the mind of the visitor is the exquisite cleanliness of the prison. In the dainty private home of a New York woman of fashion no more attention is paid to cleanliness than in Pentonville. All the floors in the institution are of cut stone highly polished, and all of the walks are of carefully kept street asphalt. Unlike American prisons, there is no trace of that "prison smell" which is the first thought that strikes the visitor to an institution where convicts are punished in the land of the free.

The care taken in ventilating and airing Pentonville Prison is a point which is not looked after all over England, it may be confessed, but in this case care is certainly taken to reach a decided condition for good.

The prison interior is divided into four long corridors, which radiate from a center like ribs in a woman’s fan. All of the corridors are stone paved and are well lighted by glass in the arches of the roof. Like the interior of the new prison in the Tombs, the walls on each side of the corridors are pierced with cells. Above the corridors, too, are three tiers or stories of other cells reached by light iron balconies and steps. This delicate tracery of iron work is joined here and there across the balconies by narrow bridges, where guards sit day and night in commanding position which overlook the corridors, with their teeming population of criminals locked in the cells which range along them.

To the observer there is none of that horrible semi-darkness of the interior of an American prison. The main feature in the centre structure seems to be an effort to gain a bright, cheery and airy building. Even the windows do not partake of the barred and grated style so apparent in America. The frames of all the windows are of cast steel, but the window frames themselves are made so small as to serve as light givers and safeguards as well.

The cells are thirteen feet long, six by seven feet in width and nine feet in height. Some of them contain looms for carpet weaving, but in that case the cells are nearly twice as large as the ordinary ones. Against the wall on one side is placed a bright copper hand basin with a water faucet near it. A small closet well supplied with water pipes occupies one corner of the cell. A shaded gas jet is in a convenient point in the wall, while there are shelves for the spoon, platter, mug and soap box of the prisoner nailed upon the wall at one side of the door.

During the day the upper of these shelves is used for the rolled up hammock of the prisoner and his bedding. When night comes the hammock is slung about three feet from the ground to iron braces set in the walls of the cell, which gives the advantage of a good bed and one that does not take up room in the daytime. A little table and a stool makes up the remainder of the furniture of each cell, while on the walls of each is placed the rules of the prison, which convicts must carefully obey.

The prison garb, of a drab canvas, shot plentifully with broad arrows, is fully as beautiful as the drab and pale yellow striped cloth of the New York State Prison convicts at Dannemora, Auburn or Sing Sing. With each suit is furnished two changes of plain white cloth underclothes, a Scotch cap and heavy cowhide shoes.

All convicts in Pentonville Prison are known as soon as they become prisoners by numbers. If a man before he became a prisoner bore the proudest title in the peerage of England, Scotland, Ireland or Wales, he becomes upon his entrance to the institution only a number. He is A 2174 or B 5051, as the case may be, and he must wear at his breast at all times a big brass badge bearing his number.

"Look out there, A 2174," sings out a guard when addressing a prisoner. And all through the prison life of a convict only this number is used. It would puzzle even the warden of the prison to tell the name of a prisoner without reference to the records upon which, opposite his name and number, stands the Christian and surname of the convict.

Prisoners are by no means starved in Pentonville. The allowance for breakfast to each convict is ten ounces of bread, three-quarters of a pint of cocoa, with two ounces of pure milk and two drachms of molasses. For dinner half a pint of soup, four ounces of meat, beef or mutton alternately, five ounces of bread and one pound of potatoes is the menu. For tea each man gets a pint of gruel, made of an ounce and one-half of meat, and sweetened with five drachms of molasses, with five ounces of bread. In case of a certain line of punishment these rations are reduced. The most salutary form of punishment is in the docking of rations. A prisoner will give in quicker when placed on a starvation diet than for any other cause.

In the prison there are four stages of service. In the first-class the prisoner has to perform first-class hard labor for a certain number of hours in each day. That means he has to work in the treadmill or upon what is known as the "cranks."

The treadmill, or treadwell, is not a particularly useful machine. The prisoners call service upon it "treading the wind," and that is about what it is, for it seems to serve no useful purpose, except to keep prisoners employed. The sole use the machine has is merely to keep a certain number of men employed when there isn’t anything else for them to do.

Each tread wheel or mill is so constructed that if necessary twenty-four men can be employed upon it at a time. The mill is divided into twenty-four little compartments or stalls. Each compartment is something less than twenty-four inches in width and is separated from the adjoining one by high wooden partitions. The mill is connected with a fan, which is so arranged as to give enough resistance to the mill to make the words "hard labor" mean what they say. There are twenty-four steps in the wheel, which are eight inches apart. This makes the circumference of the wheel sixteen feet. The wheel performs thirty revolutions in each quarter of an hour, and each man walks on an average fifteen quarters of an hour a day. So he ascends something like 7200 feet, or 2400 yards, for a day’s labor.

Crank labor consists of making 10,000 revolutions of a crank, which is placed on a narrow iron drum put on legs with a long handle on one side, which, when turned, causes a series of caps or scoops in the interior to revolve. At the lower part of the drum is a quantity of sand, which the cups scoop up and carry to the top of the wheel, where they empty themselves. A dial plate registers the number of revolutions made. A convict at ordinary rate of speed makes 120 revolutions of the crank an hour, so to turn 10,000 of them means about eight hours and twenty minutes’ labor.

In case of physical inability to do treadmill or crank labor, the convict is placed at second-class labor, which means the picking of oakum, stone-breaking and kindred pursuits. All a prisoner has to do is to sit and pick from three to six pounds of old rope per day into oakum. The quantity picked into oakum in Pentonville Prison will average about three and one-half tons a week. It is sold, and brings in some return for the labor. In addition, trades are taught in the prison which are usually akin to the useful arts.

Punishment in Pentonville Prison have been made into five classes. First comes the loss of advantage which the prisoner gets in being rated in classes. Then comes the transfer from the highest to the lowest class of servitude. Next comes fasting and a bread and water diet, and the next stage is confinement in a cell of correction. Lastly is ranked bodily chastisement, but this is limited to eighteen lashes to prisoners under eighteen years of age and thirty-six lashes to older men.

Another point, too, which all the English prisons have in common is in giving convicts with exceptionally good behaviour records before sentences expire "tickets of leave," which allow them to leave an institution and keep at large without a return during good behaviour.

In all English prisons the "routine" of daily work is about the same. In fact, the prisons do not differ much in styles of architecture, and neither do they differ in routine work. At 6 o’clock every week day morning the Chief Warden gives the signal to "unlock." The officers of the different wards hurry from cell to cell with keys in their hands to open each narrow dwelling. In some of the more modern prisons the American plan of a crank which, when it turns, locks or unlocks the cells upon a corridor at once, is use.

As soon as the cells are unlocked each prisoner hurries in his underclothing for a tub of water from the faucet in his cell, with which he cleans out his little home. This is done under military rule.

Prior to the beginning of the day’s work the "cleaners," as the men who clean cells are called, the "cooks," or those who do duty in the kitchen, are marched away in long prison files to their respective duties.

Then some of the convicts wash the cells, others sweep the pavements until they glisten, while all are watched by armed guards from the little mid-air bridges above the stone corridor floor.

A big bell in the prison summons the prisoners to work at 6.30 every morning. Men hurry to the treadmills, the cranks, or report in files under charge of a guard to the "trade instructor," who sets them at work. Carpets are woven on looms in the cells, shoemakers bustle at their work, oakum pickers hurry to duty, and so on it goes all over the prison. Every convict must work, whether he only "treads wind" or aimlessly turns "cranks" or is busy at some vocation.

For an hour the prisons hum with the sound of labor. Then, at 7.30 o’clock, breakfast is served to each prisoner while at work. Work continues until 11 o’clock and then the prisoners are marched in long files, lockstep fashion, to exercising yards.

In each yard is a long rope with knots about fifteen feet apart, so that 230 prisoners can get on the rope at a time. Each file of 130 men grasps the rope and then at brisk paces for fifteen minutes whirl round in a circle. The idea of keeping the men fifteen feet apart is to carry out the idea of separate confinement. The only possible time that the prisoners can communicate is when in the lockstep, but then they cannot speak to each other, so closely are they watched.

At 12.30 o’clock daily dinner is served, and then work begins again and is continued until 5 o’clock, when another fifteen minutes is devoted to exercise. At 5.30 o’clock the convict has his supper of gruel and bread, and a little before 6 o’clock lanterns are given to the prisoners and the gas in the prison is lighted. From 7 p. m. to 9 p. m. the prisoners are allowed to read, but at the latter hour all the lights are put out except one or two in the corridors.

That is the week day routine. On Sundays the convicts are marched to the respective chapels in the different prisons, and they also have usually a few little tidbits for dinner, but except for the lack of labor and only one short trial at exercise the day is passed in the solitude of cells.