The Fleet. Its Rivers, Prison, and Marriages

"I mentioned the billiard table. They also play in the yard at skittles, missisipi, fives, tennis, &c. And not only the Prisoners; I saw among them several butchers and others from the Market; who are admitted here, as at another public house. The same may be seen in many other Prisons where the Gaoler keeps or lets the tap. Besides the inconvenience of this to Prisoners; the frequenting a Prison lessens the dread of being confined in one.

"On Monday night there is a Wine Club: on Thursday night a Beer Club; each lasting usually till one or two in the morning. I need not say how much riot these occasion; and how the sober Prisoners are annoyed by them.

"Seeing the Prison crowded with women and Children, I procured an accurate list of them; and found that on (or about), the 6th of April, 1776, when there were, on the Master's side 213 Prisoners; on the Common side 30. Total 243; their wives (including women of an appellation not so honorable) and children, were 475."

In Howard's time the fees payable by the Prisoners were the same as were settled in 1729 after the trials of Huggins and Bambridge; but the prisoners exercised a kind of local self-government, for he writes: —

"There is, moreover, a little Code of Laws, eighteen in number, enacted by the Master's-side Debtors, and printed by D. Jones, 1774. It establishes a President, a Secretary, and a Committee, which is to be chosen every month, and to consist of three members from each Gallery. These are to meet in the Committee room every Thursday; and at other times when summoned by the Cryer, at command of the President, or of a majority of their own number. They are to raise contributions by assessment; to hear complaints; determine disputes; levy fines; and seize goods for payment. Their Sense to be deemed the sense of the whole House. The President or Secretary to hold the cash; the Committee to dispose of it. Their Scavenger to wash the Galleries once a week; to water, and sweep them every morning before eight; to sweep the yard twice every week; and to light the lamps all over the House. No person to throw out water, &c., anywhere but at the sinks in the yard. The Cryer may take of a Stranger a penny for calling a Prisoner to him; and of a Complainant two pence for summoning a Special Committee. For blasphemy, swearing, riot, drunkenness, &c., the Committee to fine at discretion; for damaging a lamp, fine a shilling. They are to take from a New Comer, on the first Sunday, besides the two shillings Garnish, to be spent in wine, one shilling and sixpence to be appropriated to the use of the House.

"Common-side Prisoners to be confined to their own apartments, and not to associate with these Law Makers, nor to use the same conveniences."

In 1780 the famous Lord George Gordon, or "No Popery" Riots took place – those Riots which were so intensely Protestant, that (according to the Contemporary Gentleman's Magazine) "The very Jews in Houndsditch and Duke's Place were so intimidated, that they followed the general example, and unintentionally gave an air of ridicule to what they understood in a very serious light, by writing on their Shutters, "This House is a true Protestant."

These Riots are very realistically brought before us in Charles Dickens' "Barnaby Rudge," but then, although the account is fairly historically faithful, yet the weaving of his tale necessarily interfered with strict historical details; which, by the way, are extremely meagre as to the burning of the Fleet prison. The fact was, that, for the few days the riot existed, the outrages were so numerous, and the Newspapers of such small dimensions, that they could only be summarized, and the burning of Newgate eclipsed that of the Fleet. But, on the Wednesday, June 7, 1780, the Annual Register, p. 261 (which certainly has the best description I have been able to see) absolutely breaks down, saying: —

"It is impossible to give any adequate description of the events of Wednesday. Notice was sent round to the public prisons of the King's Bench, Fleet, &c., by the mob, at what time they would come and burn them down. The same kind of infernal humanity was exercised towards Mr. Langdale, a distiller in Holborn, whose loss is said to amount to £100,000, and several other Romish individuals. In the afternoon all the shops were shut, and bits of blue silk, by way of flags, hung out at most houses, with the words "No Popery" chalked on the doors and window shutters, by way of deprecating the fury of the insurgents, from which no person thought himself secure.

"As soon as the day was drawing towards a Close, one of the most dreadful spectacles this country ever beheld was exhibited. Let those, who were not spectators of it, judge what the inhabitants felt when they beheld at the same instant the flames ascending and rolling in clouds from the King's Bench and Fleet Prisons, from New Bridewell, from the toll gates on Blackfriars Bridge, from houses in every quarter of the town, and particularly from the bottom and middle of Holborn, where the Conflagration was horrible beyond description."

The burning of the Fleet was done calmly and deliberately, as is well told in "A Narrative of the Proceedings of Lord Geo. Gordon," &c., 1780. "About one o'clock this morning (Tuesday, June 6), the Mob went to the Fleet Prison, and demanded the gates to be opened, which the Keepers were obliged to do, or they would have set fire to it. They were then proceeding to demolish the prison, but the prisoners expostulating with them, and begging that they would give them time to remove their goods, they readily condescended, and gave them a day for that purpose, in consequence of which, the prisoners were removing all this day out of that place. Some of the prisoners were in for life." And in the evening of the next day, they fulfilled their threat, and burnt it. This was the second time it had been burnt down, for the great fire of 1666 had previously demolished it.

It was rebuilt, and remained the same, with some few alterations and additions until its final destruction. We get a good view of "the Bare" or racket ground in 1808, an outline of which I have taken from Pugin and Rowlandson's beautiful "Microcosm of London," 1808, 160 according to which book, "The Fleet Prison, it is believed, after the fire of London in 1666, was removed to that site of ground upon which the almshouses through Vauxhall turnpike, on the Wandsworth road, now stand, until the old prison was rebuilt, Sir Jeremy Whichcott, then Warden, having his family seat there, which he converted into a prison; for which patriotic act, and rebuilding the old one at his own expence, he and his heirs were wardens as long as they lived. The Office of Warden of the Fleet was formerly of such consequence, that a brother of one of the Edwards is said to have been in the list of Wardens."

In this illustration we find the prisoners by no means moody, but playing at rackets and skittles. The Racket ground was under the superintendence of a Racket Master, who was elected by the Collegians, annually at Christmas. This post was eagerly sought after, as it was one to which some pecuniary profit was attached, a small fee being demanded from each person, the Racket Master having to find bats and balls. I have before me three printed handbills of aspirants for the post in 1841. One bases his claim on the fact that he is already Racket Master, and says, "I feel the situation is one that requires attention and unceasing exertion, not so much from the individual position, as from the circumstance that the amusement, and (what is more vitally important) the health of my fellow inmates is in some measure placed in the hands of the person appointed." Another candidate pleads as a qualification, that he has served as Watchman for Seven years, and at last election for Racket Master, he only lost the appointment by five votes. And the third publishes the caution "Collegians, Remember! All Promises that have been (sic) before the Vacancy, are Null and Void!!!" This gentleman was determined to secure, if possible, some of the good things going about, for, at this very same Annual Election, he issues another circular, "Having had many years experience in the Tavern Department and Eating House Business, I beg leave to offer myself for the Situation in the Public Kitchen, now about to become vacant." He, too, had an opponent, who had been engaged for nine years as a baker, and was, by profession, a Cook. The Office of Skittle Master was also contested in that year; the holder of the place being opposed by one whose claim to the position seems to be that he had a wife and one child.

They made themselves merry enough in the Fleet, as we read in Egan's "Life in London," where Jerry Hawthorn, and Corinthian Tom, visit Bob Logic, who was detained in the Fleet. Among other places there, they went to a Whistling Shop – of which the brothers Robert and George Cruikshank have given a faithful representation. Here at a table, screened off from the draught of the door we see, Tom, Jerry, and the unfortunate Logic, whilst the other frequenters of the place are excellently depicted. Spirits were not allowed in the prison, under any circumstances, other than by the doctor's order; but it is needless to say, the regulation was a dead letter. Of course it was not sold openly, but there were rooms, known to the initiated where it could be procured. It was never asked for, and if it were the applicant would not have received it, but if you whistled, it would be at once forthcoming.

Says Logic to his Corinthian friends, "'In the evening I will introduce you both to my friend the Haberdasher. He is a good whistler; and his shop always abounds with some prime articles which you will like to look at.' The Trio was again complete; and a fine dinner, which the Corinthian had previously ordered from a Coffee house, improved their feelings: a glass or two of wine made them as gay as larks; and a hint from Jerry to Logic about the Whistler, brought them into the shop of the latter in a twinkling. Hawthorn, with great surprise, said, 'Where are we? this is no haberdasher's. It is a – ' 'No nosing, Jerry,' replied Logic, with a grin. 'You are wrong. The man is a dealer in tape.'" 161

There was a class in the Fleet, who acted, as far as in their power lay, up to the Epicurean "dum vivimus vivamus," and among them the prison, however inconvenient it might have been, was made the best of, and the door of the Cupboard which contained the skeleton was shut as far as it would go. We have an exemplification of this in Robert Cruikshank's water colour drawing of "The Evening after a Mock Election in the Fleet Prison," June, 1835. In this drawing, which I have simply outlined (see previous page), we get a graphic glimpse at the uproarious fun that obtained among a certain set. The gradations in Society of this singular mixture is well shown in the following key to the picture:

1. Bennett the Candidate.

2. Mr. Fellowes of the Crown P. H. Fleet Street.

3. Mr. Houston, alias Jack in the Green.

4. Mr. Perkins, alias Harlequin Billy (Architect), who tried to sink a shaft at Spithead to supply the Navy with Water.

5. Mr. Shackleford (Linen Draper).

6. Mr. Bennett, the Watchman.

7. Geo. Weston, Esqr. (Banker, of the Boro').

8. Mr. Hutchinson (Dr. at Liverpool).

9. L. Goldsmith, Esqre.

10. Mr. Thompson (Irishman).

11. Robert Barnjum alias Rough Robin (Hammersmith Ghost).

12. Robert Ball, alias Manchester Bob (wore a Murderer's Cap).

13. Captain Wilde, R.N.

14. Mr. Hales, the Cook.

15. Mr. Walker.

16. Captain McDonnough, 11th Hussars (real gentleman).

17. Mr. Halliday (Manchester Merchant).

18. Harry Holt the Prize Fighter.

19. Captain Penniment (Trading Vessel, Yorkshire).

20. Mr. Palmer, Cutler to Geo. III., near the Haymarket Theatre.

21. Mr. Scrivener (Landlord of the Tap).

22. Captain Oliver, Smuggler and Tapster. Capias, £117,000.

23. Mr. Goldsbury, alias Jailsbury, driver of omnibus all round the Fleet.

24. Mr. George Kent.

As a souvenir of the talented Isaac Robert Cruikshank, I append a facsimile of his autograph, which was written in the Parlour, No. 16, Hall, in the Fleet Prison, June 24, 1842. His method of utilizing the blot of Ink is unique.

The remaining Notices of the Fleet must be taken as they come, as far as possible, chronologically – and first of all let us look at the enormous quantity of people who were imprisoned for debt. In the Mirror, No. 615, vol. xxii. July 20, 1833, is a cutting from the Times: "By the return of persons imprisoned for debt in 1832, in England and Wales, just printed by order of the House of Commons, it appears that the gross number was 16,470: of whom maintained themselves 4,093, so that three fourths of the whole were too poor to provide themselves with bread."

The terrible destitution to which some prisoners were reduced is shown in an extract from the Morning Herald of August 12, 1833.

"Guild hall. A Gentleman complained that the Overseers of St. Bride's had refused to relieve a distressed prisoner in the Fleet. The Prisoner was Mr. Timothy Sheldvake, who had been well known for his skill in treating deformities of the body. He once kept his carriage, and obtained £4,000 a year by his practice, but he was now quite destitute. He was eighty years of Age, and of that temper that he would rather starve than make a complaint. When applicant saw him he had actually fasted forty-eight hours. St. Bride's Parish had assisted the unfortunate Gentleman, but they denied that he was legally entitled to such relief. The Applicant contended that, as the Prison was in St. Bride's parish, and was rated at £70 a year, St. Bride's was bound to afford casual relief to those within the walls of the prison, and to recover it from the respective parishes to which those who have been relieved belonged.

"The Vestry Clerk said, relief must be given out of the County rate.

"Sir C. Marshall said he would take time to consider the Point, but he thought a sufficient relief should be afforded out of the County rate."

CHAPTER XXV

IN a Return of the number of persons in the several Gaols of England, confined for Debt, ordered by the House of Commons to be printed, May 13, 1835, we have an "Account of the Number of Persons confined for Debt in the Fleet Prison during the following Years:

And the amount of the debt and costs for which each party was so charged varied from £2 to £18,017.

I look in vain in the Times for the paragraph to which the Warden alludes in the following letter:

"The Warden presents his compliments to the Editor of the Times, and begs to state, that a paragraph having appeared in the paper of this morning, stating that the Fleet Prison is very full, and that a guinea and a half a week is paid for a single room, and that four, five, and six persons are obliged to live in a small apartment.

"The Warden, not being aware of this, should it in any case exist, and which is contrary to the established regulations against any person so offending, the prison not being so full as in former years, there being considerably less, on an average, than two prisoners to each Room, and being also exceedingly healthy.

"The Warden has also to add, that the rest of the paragraph relating to the Fleet is totally without foundation.

"Fleet Prison, March 7, 1836."

In the outside sheet of the Times, February 21, 1838, occurs the following advertisement: "One Hundred Pounds Reward. – Escape. – Escaped from the Fleet Prison, on the evening of Wednesday the 14th day of February instant. Alfred Morris, late of 22 Dean Street, Tooley Street, Southwark. The said Alfred Morris is about 30 years of Age, about 5 feet 6 inches high, dark complexion, and of a Jewish Caste, prominent Nose, somewhat flat pointed, dark, irregular whiskers, stout figure, and rather bow legged," &c., &c.

Anent this escape, the Times of February 16th has a paragraph such as we can hardly imagine ever could have appeared in a paper so steady and sober, as the Times now is: "The Warden of the Fleet – (From a Correspondent). Yesterday a gentleman of some misfortune and of great appearance, for he wore a wig, moustaches, and a Spanish Cloak, was introduced as an inmate of Brown's Hotel, so called from the Warden having a license to sell wines, beer, and ale to his prisoners, through the 'patent never ending always improving Juddery spigot and fawcet tap,' &c. In about half an hour the said bewhiskered gentleman leaves cloak, wig, and moustaches in the room of a Mister Abrahams, a prisoner, and walks quietly out, very politely bidding the turnkey 'good morning.' At night the excellent crier of the Prison, Mr. Ellis, made the galleries echo, and the rooms re-echo, with his sometimes very cheering voice (when he announces to those who wish such things as a discharge, for it is not all who do), in calling, altissimo voce, 'Mr. Alfred Morrison! Mr. Alfred Morrison! Mr. Alfred Morrison!' but as no Mr. Alfred Morrison answered to the interesting call, every room was searched in the due performance of the crier's duty, but no Mr. Alfred Morrison was to be found. And the Worthy and excellent warder, the keeper of so many others in, is himself let in to the tune of £2,600; some say more, none say less.

'Go it, ye cripples! crutches are cheap!W. Brown is no longer asleep!'"

In a leading article in the Times of November 13, 1838, upon juvenile crime, and the incitors thereto, we read the following: "The Traders in crime do not wholly confine their seductions to the young; they often find apt scholars among the unfortunates of riper years, especially in the debtor's prison. Mr. Wakefield162 says he knows many such victims; and he particularizes one 'Who was not indeed executed, because he took poison the night before he was to have been executed, who told me he had been, (and who I firmly believe was) first incited to crime when a Prisoner in the Fleet for debt. The crime into which he was seduced was that of passing forged Bank of England Notes. He was a Man of very showy appearance, and he had been a Captain in the Army; a man of good family. He said this crime was first suggested to him by persons who were Prisoners in the Fleet; but he afterwards discovered, having been a Prisoner there more than once, that one of a gang of Utterers of forged Notes lived constantly in the Fleet, and for no other purpose but that of inducing reckless young men of good appearance, who could easily pass notes, to take Notes from them, and to dispose of them in transactions. I could hardly believe that that was true, and I got some inquiries to be made for the person whom he had pointed out to me as one of a Gang, and I found that that person was constantly in the Fleet. The Gang committed a robbery upon a Bank in Cornwall, and they were entirely broken up, and from that time forth the Person who had resided in the Fleet disappeared, though he was not one of the persons convicted, or suspected of that particular Crime. I never heard of him since, but the inquiries which I then made, convinced me that it was a fact that one of the Gang of what are termed 'family men,' that is, rich thieves and receivers of stolen goods, did reside continually in the Fleet, for the purpose of seducing young men into the commission of Crime. He was in and out of the Prison, but a Prisoner on a friendly arrest."

The time was coming, when imprisonment for debt was to be abolished. An Act of 1 & 2 Vict. cap. 110 had already abolished Arrest on Mesne Process in Civil Actions, so that no prisoners could be committed to the Fleet from the Courts of Chancery, Exchequer, and Common Pleas, and the Debtors and Bankrupts might as well be in the Queen's Bench. The Demolition of the Fleet was therefore confidently anticipated, as we find by the following paragraph from the Times, March 3, 1841. "Removal of Prisoners. On Saturday a deputation from the Woods and Forests, attended by the Marshal, visited the Queen's Bench Prison, preparatory to moving over the Debtors from the Fleet, which prison is about to be pulled down. By this arrangement the Country will save about £15,000 per annum, besides getting rid of an ugly object, and room being made for other contemplated improvements. It is supposed the Judges will find some difficulty in removing the Prisoners from the Fleet by Habeas Corpus, and that a short Bill will be necessary for that purpose. The expenses of the Queen's Bench Prison in its present profitless employment, is about £30,000 per annum to the Country."

This announcement was slightly premature, for the Act for its demolition (5 & 6 Victoriæ, cap. 22) was not passed until May 31, 1842. The Prisoners objected to the Transfer to the Queen's Bench, preferring their comparative liberty as they were, to the more stringent rules of the other prison: one clause in the new Act being: "And be it enacted, That after the passing of this Act, no Prisoner in the Queen's Prison shall be allowed to send for, or to have any Beer, Ale, Victuals or other Food, or to send for, have or use any Bedding, Linen, or other Things, except such as shall be allowed to be brought by them respectively under such Rules, to be made in the Manner directed by this Act, as may be reasonable and expedient to prevent Extravagance and Luxury, and for enforcing due Order and Discipline within the Prison."

I have before me the Original Subscription list of a scheme of"ResistancetoThe Abolition of the Fleet PrisonApril 9th, 1842."

The author of the Letter of "Fleta to the Lords, calling upon them individually to Oppose the Bill for transferring the Debtors in the Fleet to the Queen's Prison, respectfully calls upon all Parties interested in an Opposition to the said Bill, to render him such pecuniary assistance in forwarding his Object, as may be consistent with their Views or Convenience." A list of Subscriptions follows, but although 25/– was promised, only 15/– appears to be paid. They held meetings, a notice calling one of which is facsimiled; but it was of no avail, and they had to go.

One Philip Ball, a Chancery Prisoner, composed

The Last Days of the Fleet!A melancholy Chaunt, Written by a Collegian, on the occasion of the Queen'sPrison Bill receiving the Royal AssentAir. 'The Fine Old English Gentleman.'1I'll sing to you a bran new songMade by my simple pate,About the end of the good old Fleet,Which on us now shuts its gate.It has kept confin'd the choicest ladsThat e'er together met —Of merry, jolly, rattling dogs,A regular slap up set.Of jovial Fleet prisoners,All of the present day.2This good old pris'n in every roomContains a merry soul,Who for his doings out of doorsIs now drop't 'in the hole.'But surely this is better farThan your simple plodding way,Get deep in debt, go through the Court,And whitewash it all away.Like a jovial Fleet prisoner,All of the present day.3Such right good hearts are rarely found,As round me now I see;With such, I'm 'most inclined to say,Hang liberty for me.For T – y, S – y, V – h,In spirits who excel?How could we better live than here,Where friendship weaves her spell?'Mongst jovial Fleet prisoners,All of the present day.4To racquets, skittles, whistling shops,We must soon say farewell;The Queen's assent to her prison billHas rung their funeral knell;And Bennett, Gray, and Andrew tooMust close their welcome doors,For sing song and tape spinning now,This damn'd new Act all floors,For the jovial Fleet prisoner,All of the present day.5But to her gracious MajestyYou'll long be loyal and true,Although this latest act of hersMust be felt by some of you.Speed through the Court, or compromiseLike gallant Captain T – h,Or else you'll soon be sent to grieveYour guts out in the Bench.All melancholy prisoners163Unlike those of the present day.

Much, however, as the prisoners might grieve, it was of no use kicking against an Act of Parliament, and those prisoners who did not take advantage of the Insolvent Debtors Act, were transferred to the Queen's Prison, which in its turn ceased to be a debtor's prison, and was used by Military offenders, until it was sold on Oct. 30, 1879, and pulled down in that and the following year. Now, legally speaking, there is no imprisonment for debt, but people are only committed for Contempt of Court.