In the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for 1796, is the following letter to--
Mr. URBAN.--Your respect for the memory of Mr. Howard, will induce you to insert the inclosed view of the House of Correction for the County of Middlesex, formed principally on his judicious suggestions. It is situated on the North side of London, between Cold Bath Fields, and Gray's Inn Lane. The spot on which it is erected having been naturally swampy, and long used for a public lay-stall, it was found prudent to lay the foundation so deep, and pile it so securely, that it is supposed there are as many bricks laid underground as appear to sight. What is more to the purpose, the internal regulations of this place of security are believed to be perfectly well adapted to the salutary purposes to which the building is appropriated.
Still Cold Bath Fields Prison had an evil name--in all probability, because prisoners there, were treated as if they had sinned against the social canons, and were not persons to be coaxed and _petted_ into behaviour such as would enable them to rank among their more honest fellows, and in this way wrote Coleridge and Southey in "The Devil's Walk," which was suggested by the _pseudo Christos_ BROTHERS who as these gentlemen wrote:--[43]
"He walked into London leisurely, The streets were dirty and dim: But there he saw Brothers, the Prophet, And Brothers the Prophet saw him."
Well, in the Devil's rambles he came across Cold Bath Fields Prison--which, as I have said, was not beloved of the criminal class, and, simply, as I think, for the sake of saying something smart, and not that they ever had experienced incarceration, or is there any evidence that they had even seen the prison, they write:
"As he passed through Cold Bath Fields he look'd At a solitary Cell; And he was well-pleased, for it gave him a hint For improving the prisons of Hell.
He saw a turnkey tie a thief's hands With a cordial try and a jerk; Nimbly, quoth he, a man's fingers move When his heart is in his work.
He saw the same turnkey unfettering a man With little expedition; And he chuckled to think of his dear slave trade, And the long debates, and delays that were made Concerning its abolition."
There is very little doubt, however, that, in the closing year of last, and the commencing one of this, century, the conduct of the Governor--a man named Aris--was open to very grave censure. People outside imagined that all sorts of evils were being perpetrated within its walls, and, either through laxity, or too great severity, of discipline, something nigh akin to mutiny occurred in the prison in July, 1800--which was promptly stopped by the presence of a company of the Clerkenwell Volunteers. In August of the same year, there was another outbreak in the prison, the occupants shouting "Murder," and that they were being starved, in tones loud enough to be heard outside, and, once more the Volunteers were the active agents in enforcing law and order. This latter "seething of the pot" lasted a few days, and it culminated in the discharge of the obnoxious Governor Aris.
