him continually under the eye of the police. If considered incorrigible, he was transported to the penal settlement of Norfolk Island, to labour at the public works, not only without any remuneration whatever, but under discipline so cruelly severe as to exceed the bounds even of just retribution, and to exclude all hopes of reform. Still, on the whole, the new penal system was consonant with the ideas of the illustrious Howard. From simply deterrent it had become reformatory. It adopted the principle enunciated, perhaps for the first time, by Archbishop Whately, but developed into a system, and thus rendered capable of practical application by Captain Maconochie during the few years he was Governor of Norfolk Island, that the convict should be enabled, by work and good conduct, to abridge the term of his confinement.

The prison of Pentonville was originally intended for adults from twenty-five to thirty-five years of age, and from 1843 to 1848 the inmates of this prison were chosen with care from the mass of malefactors; but during the latter year many were sent thither who did not belong to the category selected for this species of incarceration, and the result was numerous cases of suicide and insanity. To render this kind of probation applicable to all convicts, the period of solitary confinement was reduced first to twelve and subsequently to nine months. Notwithstanding this reduction in the commencement of 1852, a considerable number of cases of insanity presented themselves. From that period, by prolonging the exercise in the open air, and rendering it of a more active character, the proportion of such cases has been reduced to 1 in 400, and of these the greater part are quickly restored by a return to the habits of ordinary life.

That solitary confinement, without work or intercourse with one's fellow-men, is of all means the most potent for subduing the antagonistic spirit and breaking the stubborn will, must at once be admitted; and it is often the only one that proves effectual in bringing the hardened offender to a sense of his guilt against God and man. But when the hostility to Divine and human law has been subdued, when the penal portion of the sentence has produced its effect, then another principle must step in—the principle of pity, mercy, and love. Now is the moment to seek to touch the heart of the criminal, and make him comprehend that his punishment is not inflicted from any sentiment of revenge, but to bring him to a sense of his sin, and its inevitable results here and hereafter; to effect his reformation; to restore him, an honest man, to the society which he had left a felon and a criminal. If the period for this change of system be overstepped,—if solitary confinement, even with labour, be prolonged beyond the time necessary to subdue the heart and mind, then it can lead only to the most fatal results, both morally and physically.

Even the ordinary separate system requires careful watching. But at Pentonville, when I visited it in 1857, I saw no danger of undue severity. What most struck me was the material well-being of the prisoners. It would be happy, indeed, if every honest workman, in any part of the world, could procure food as abundant and nourishing as that served out to the inmates of Pentonville, and, indeed, of all the English prisons.*

* Every day 4 ozs. of excellent roast meat, beef, or mutton; 20 ozs. of the best white bread; 1 lb. of potatoes, and a quarter of a pound of cocoa!!

The following table will give some idea of the difference in the amount of nutriment between the dietary of the convict and that of the other individuals mentioned.

The convicts work in their cells-which, though small, are well lighted, warmed, and ventilated—at different trades; and if they know none on their entrance, they are taught whichever they may select. They manufacture the

coarse cloth of which the prison garb is composed, and everything for the service of the establishment that can ́ be made within the prison walls. A gas-jet allows of their reading in the evenings—for they are supplied with instructive and even entertaining books, though chiefly of a moral and religious character. They receive daily lessons from the prison schoolmaster, together with frequent visits from the governor, chaplain, and other prison authorities.* They attend chapel every morning, their faces covered with a mask, and are placed in pews so constructed that they cannot see each other. When the service is over, they sing in chorus, accompanied by the organ. For exercise, they walk or run four miles a day, in a wide airing-yard; even the refractory are allowed to take exercise in courts, completely separated from the rest.

Still, the experiment at Pentonville was not considered decisive. Another system, also first introduced in America, was tried at Millbank. Here 1,300 or 1,400 convicts are kept in solitary confinement during the night, but labour together during the day, in enormous workshops, at tailoring, shoemaking, &c., under the law of complete silence. This mixed system is scarcely less contrary to the instincts of human nature than that of prolonged solitary confinement. The lips, indeed, are closed, but the eyes are open. Mute but expressive signs are interchanged, and no punishment, however severe, can succeed in preventing this silent and dangerous inter

course.

In all the houses of correction, particularly that of Coldbath Fields, the time of the prisoners is divided between occupations more or less productive and work

* In his examination before the House of Commons, 1861, Captain Whitby stated that not one hour elapsed without the prisoner receiving visits from some persons or other.-Note of Editor.

ing on the treadmill. This is a cylinder about fifteen feet in diameter, fixed in a horizontal position, and provided with steps arranged on the surface, like those of a waterwheel. About fifteen or twenty men are ranged on the machine, their hands holding on a rail a little above their heads. The cylinder then begins to revolve, and the men are thus compelled to place their feet on the next step at the very moment it passes beneath them, or else to hang on by their hands. They take 490 steps in a quarter of

an hour, and as at Coldbath Fields they are put on the treadmill three hours and three-quarters per diem, the daily movement they accomplish is equivalent to a perpendicular ascent of 7,350 feet, or nearly a mile and a half.

In prisons where the employment of this machine is not too prolonged, it is found rather beneficial than otherwise to the health of the prisoners; but at Coldbath Fields, the duration of the exercise renders it so fatiguing that to escape it the prisoners feign illness, or even mutilate themselves.* In such cases, when they are cured, or supposed to be cured, the crank is substituted for the treadmill. This is a sort of iron drum, half full of sand, with a handle, by means of which an overshot wheel in the interior is set in motion, so that each compartment is filled as it passes over the layers of sand, and empties itself after completing its evolutions. The prisoner is to turn this wheel 10,000 times during the day. There are not many who, after a few hours of this most disagreeable labour, which fills the cell with noise and dust, do not ask to return to the treadmill. The crank has certain advan

* This ratio, however, is nothing to the quantum of treadmill labour exacted twenty-five years ago at the same prison, when 12,000 feet per diem of ascent was apportioned to each individual. Chesterton's "Revelations of Prison Discipline."