A recent exhibition held at the Basement gallery of the Bunyan Museum (6 August- 5 September 2026) centred on the life and work of the legendary prison reformer John Howard to mark the tercentenary of his birth in 1726.
Howard is the ‘other John’ whose statue, together with that of his fellow Non-conformist John Bunyan, bookends the High Street in Bedford.
The exhibition comprised an innovative blend of information panels, artefacts, archival material and creative writing.
It adopted a straightforwardly chronological approach to the life of this extraordinary Bedfordian who was little known in his own lifetime at 50, and yet by 60 had achieved international renown for his philanthropic work on what was then, as now, a very controversial cause, namely improving the lot of prisoners.
The exhibition began by tracing the Howard family connection to Cardington, where at the age of 16 John inherited land from his father who had made his fortune in a high-end upholstery business in London.
In spite of his youth, and motivated by his devout religious faith, Howard immediately set about improving the living conditions of his tenants, building alms houses and making himself personally liable for paying for the education of 23 of the village’s children.
In return, as archival material showed, his tenants were expected to be industrious, attend worship on Sunday, and keep their homes clean.
The exhibition made clear that he and his cousin, Samuel Whitbread, maintained a friendly rivalry in respect of their philanthropic efforts, turning Cardington into a prototype of the kind of model village that would become more common in the late nineteenth century in places such as Port Sunlight, Bournville, and Saltaire.
An anonymous reviewer was quoted as saying that the village was transformed from ‘one of the poorest, wretchedest villages in the kingdom, [becoming] a little Eden, an oasis in the wilderness’ (Note 17).
So even if Howard had never set foot inside a prison, he would deserve to be known as a very progressive landowner.
The next panel dealt with Howard’s marriage, and his subsequent first-hand experience of incarceration.
After defying social convention by marrying his landlady three decades his senior, he set off shortly after her death to offer relief to the victims of the devastating 1755 Lisbon earthquake.
The panel provided a map of the perilous sea journey he made from Falmouth to Lisbon at a time when England was at war with France. After his ship was boarded by a privateer, he and the crew were handed over as prisoners of war.
Extracts from his journal reveal the unspeakable hardships and deprivations they endured. After Howard was freed in a prisoner exchange, he immediately set about securing the release of his fellow captives.
When he was made High Sheriff of Bedford in 1773, he was equally appalled by the conditions he encountered in Bedford Prison, and even more so by the requirement that debtors could only secure their release by paying 15 shillings to the Gaoler and 2 shillings to the Turnkey.
Thereafter, he began in earnest his unannounced and systematic prison inspections, initially throughout England and Wales, and later, in continental Europe.
His visits to Ireland and the Netherlands provided evidence of the existence of more humane prison regimes. He used his experiences to co-author the Penitentiary Act of 1779, which de-privatised prisons and emphasised rehabilitation over punishment and transportation.
That Howard was from the outset someone prone to illness makes it all the more remarkable that he spent the latter part of his life going into filthy, disease-infested prisons.
Indeed, he was ultimately to succumb to typhus, also known as ‘gaol fever’, in 1790, but not until he had attained the grand old age of 64.
He died while on an inspection tour of the prison in Kherson, then part of Imperial Russia but now in Ukraine.
Although with his characteristic humility he wanted only a simple sundial to mark his burial place, the Governor General of southern Russia ordered the erection of an elaborate eleven-metre memorial to him within the walls of the Kherson fortress alongside those of other prominent figures, and his funeral was a major public event with the Prince of Moldova amongst the attendees.
Miraculously, the Howard memorial has survived the recent Russian bombardment of Kherson, with the Regional Military Administration holding a commemoration on 2 September 2026 to mark the 300th anniversary of his birth.
Kherson’s tourism materials proudly describe the Howard monument as one of the five most unique clocks in Ukraine.
Previously, in 2012, a conference titled ‘Howard Readings’ at Kherson’s regional library brought together historians, archivists, and officials to celebrate his legacy, with a Skype link to his English biographer, Tess West, whose 2011 book, The Curious Mr Howard: Legendary Prison Reformer, was on display at the exhibition.
To paraphrase Matthew, verse 13: 57, a prophet is often honoured everywhere except in his own country, and as one of the information boards in the exhibition made clear, it would be over a century after the erection of the memorial in Kherson before the bronze statue of Howard that now stands in Bedford’s Market Square was finally unveiled, albeit with considerable pomp and ceremony.
It was sculpted by Alfred Gilbert, one of the most respected Victorian sculptors, best known for designing the Eros statue in Piccadilly Circus,
The unveiling ceremony was performed by Herbrand Russell, the 11th Duke of Bedford and, as the photo on the panel showed, was attended by a huge crowd of onlookers, the Rifle Volunteers and, rather more incongruously, the Bedford Volunteer Fire Brigade, complete with a steam fire engine!
Images of the statue were replicated on everyday objects, such as teapots and snuff boxes, examples of which were included in the exhibition.
Perhaps the most poignant section of the exhibition was devoted to the testimonies of current inmates at Bedford Prison.
Elisha Breed, who curated the exhibition, explained how they secured funding from Museum Development South East and Arts Council England to hold a series of six workshops at the prison led by the artists Anne-Marie Abatte and Sara Turner.
These workshops gave rise to a miscellany of moving creative writing pieces produced mainly by prisoners, but with contributions by prison visitors.
Not surprisingly, many letters expressed regrets (“I wish I had a better start in life, with a loving, caring family so I didn’t need to turn to drugs and alcohol”).
Others conveyed heartfelt hopes that family members would fare better (“You’re going to be a better man than me, son”). Repeat offenders commented on the monotony of prison life (“I’ve been in and out since I was a teen..[I’m] sick of grey tracksuits and poor conditions”).
Clare Lynch’s poem ‘Invisible Walls’ provided an insight into the need for prison visitors to hang on to hope against the odds (‘Families waiting, standing strong,/Holding hope when days feel long’).
One prisoner reflected on how visits from a family member sustained him (“Every time I hug her, it makes me”), while another suggests that prison has unmade him (“I came in mid-hearing, now my brain is getting worse”).
Although celebrating the contribution of a prison reformer born three centuries ago, this exhibition could not be more relevant to current concerns over prison overcrowding and debates about what prisons are for in the twenty-first century.
A 2023-24 survey by Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Prisons found Bedford Prison 50% over capacity, while a more recent survey indicated that only ‘fragile progress’ had been made to improve the conditions for prisoners ostensibly on remand, but who end up imprisoned for indefinite periods of time.
The deep irony of this situation is unlikely to be lost on those who visited the exhibition, which celebrated John Howard’s relentless efforts to improve the lot of prisoners in Britain and beyond.
