Ihadat last indeed tumbled on my legs. My new duties offered a combination of advantages—such as variety, fresh air, newspapers, tobacco, etc.—far in excess of my fondest dreams. There are six so-called gardeners, who are constantly employed in the grounds. At 7.30 they go out, and rarely return before dinner; and again at 2, remaining out till 5. In fine weather this is a great relief, and I enjoyed many an afternoon basking in the sun on a grassy bank.
Gardening. “Something approaching.”
The general duties of a so-called gardener are a combination of the qualifications necessary for a dustman, carpet-beater, and agricultural labourer. They are, in fact, the scavengers of the establishment, and poke about all day under a curiosity of the turnkey species, and overhaul everything andeverybody. Their duties are absolutely legion, and carpet-beating, mowing, weeding, and raking the walks are only a moiety of their accomplishments. I was appointed to this favoured team through the kindly recommendation of the assistant surgeon after my recent temporary discharge from hospital; and the master gardener, not having been consulted, as I fancy he usually was, was not by any means predisposed in my favour. That, however, wore off; and though I found him the most crotchety, three-cornered eccentricity I had ever met, I soon discovered his weak point, and did pretty much as I pleased. I must here repudiate any insinuation that by this I mean to imply he was to be squared. I might as well have tried to square the Marble Arch. Besides which, I did not require to, my supply being greater than my demand.
Our first duty was to proceed to the tool-house, and, armed with shovels, wheelbarrows, baskets, etc., to commence grubbing about. As a newcomer I was selected for the “barrer,” and a heavier “barrer” I never felt; but having knocked some paint off a gate, and rolled it over a sacredgrass plot, my incapacity was so manifest that I was disrated to a shovel. Here, too, I was lamentably ignorant, and out of every spoonful I collected a third went into the “barrer” and the remainder everywhere else. I was, in fact, trying to emulate the scavengers one sees ladling mud on wet days. The long shots they make have always inspired me with admiration; their revels in the oceans of mud exercised a fascination over me, causing me till now to overlook the science that is required to produce such apparently simple efforts.
I have often driven up the hill that runs outside the front of the prison and fancied it was steep; that fancy has since been confirmed, and I am now in a position to assert positively that it is very steep, especially between the shafts of a “barrer.”
A duty we were about to undertake one day was the weekly overhaul of the head warder’s quarters. I was spared a share in this revolting exercise—I never knew how—but was simply told I should not be required.
I had often sympathized with these gardeners long before I joined them, when seeing them shaking the frowsy rugs and rags, carpet slippers,and other gimcracks, and dusting Mrs. Head Warder’s best Sunday willow-pattern teapot. My general ignorance, too, in the various branches of scavengering had become so apparent that I felt convinced I should be informed that I “didn’t suit”; but, thanks to the consideration of the Governor and assistant surgeon, I was retained, though otherwise employed. I was henceforth entirely detached, and turned out into various portions of the grounds, and told to do the best I could. My special instructions were to annihilate a certain weed, for which purpose I was armed with a knife, though I seldom used it for that particular purpose. The effect of this weed on the funny head gardener was very strange, and he would grind his teeth and mutter at the very sight of one. I at once took the cue, and feeling it would please him, besides showing my zeal, used the strongest language I could lay tongue to whenever I detected one. My zeal, I fear, often led me into mistakes, and valuable clover and priceless dandelions were ruthlessly sacrificed to my want of discrimination. These errors in uprooting the wrong plants generally elicited a gentlerebuke, but the “cussing” at the hated fungus condoned my offence. “It was zeal, sir, zeal,” and he began to “like that chap—he was willing, anxious like.” But the way I won the old boy’s heart was my love for old coins (as a fact, I know nothing about them, and prefer the more modern specimens). It happened one day he picked up a rusty coin—whether a button or an obsolete farthing I cannot say. I boldly, however, pronounced it to be a Henry the Seventh, said I would gladly pay five shillings for one like it, rattled along about Museum Street, my collection, etc., till he recognized a brother-collector, and a bond of sympathy was established; and as he dropped the Henry the Seventh into his pocket, he led me to understand he had many like it at home. Whether he undertook a pilgrimage to Museum Street I cannot say, but about a month later a coolness showed itself in his manner towards me, which rather led me to suspect he had.
I now found myself my own master. No one was specially interested in my movements. I was on my own hook, and so long as I appeared to be occupied when certain individuals were going theirrounds, I was never interfered with; and as these rounds took place at about the same hours daily, I mapped out my occupation accordingly.
Gardening. “The Line Clear.”
At 7.30 I was turned into a large lawn, with sloping banks on three sides and railings on the fourth; between these and the outer wall was a gravel walk that circumvented the prison. A turnkey patrolled this walk day and night, armed with a cutlass. I asked one of them one day what he should do if he found anyone scaling the wall. “Do?” he said. “If it was you, I should say, ‘Don’t be a fool; you’ll sprain your ankle dropping down t’other side.’” “And suppose it was some other chap?” I inquired. “Ah! then,” he added, “I should carve him about a foot below the waist.”
Between 8 and 9 parties of men were constantly passing to and fro to their various work. I usually, therefore, devoted that hour to contemplation, the selection of some half-a-dozen weeds for future decapitation, and a general look round. When things had settled down a bit, my knife came into requisition, and proceeding to one of my hiding-places I selected one piece of tobacco for immediateuse, and sliced enough for my day’s consumption. I had some of these holes in various parts of the grounds, constructed of a slate floor about three inches square, with bricks for the roof and sides. I found them admirably adapted to resist rain, and many I daresay are still in existence. This enjoyment lasted till 11, when it became dangerous. (I was nearly choked on one occasion by foolishly having a lump of tobacco in my mouth when suddenly confronted by an official.) After dinner I had a good hour’s reading (the papers don’t arrive before; indeed, the postal arrangements are capable of considerable improvement), and so the afternoon passed comparatively pleasantly, between the daily paper, ’baccy, and the sloping bank. I often felt amused at the thought of how different all this was to what some people believed; and a conversation I “overheard” in the previous January, when one cad was explaining to his inebriated companion that imprisonment with hard labour was worse than penal servitude, came vividly to my recollection. On one of these sunny days I was much amused by an outline of the day’s telegrams as given me by a friendly turnkey. It was theday on which the news of young Vyse’s death whilst reconnoitring Arabi’s position reached England. “Them Arabians are rum chaps; ah, and can shoot too, I tell yer: that officer as was recognisizing—look at that!”
Chewing was an accomplishment I did not acquire in a day; indeed, it took me weeks. At first it made me absolutely poorly, but I persevered, and eventually found it as agreeable as smoking. I could not, however, manage the twist, and invariably used the honey-dew or negro-head. This daintiness was not unattended with inconvenience, as no shop in the neighbourhood kept such a thing, and involved journeys to the Strand or Oxford Street. I was never so foolish as to keep the tobacco about me, and my cell was as free of it as any hermit’s. In the grounds, however, it was perfectly safe; tobacco under a stone might belong to anybody, and though the suspicion would probably have cost me my staff appointment, absolute conviction would have been impossible. To say that I was free from some sort of suspicion would be hardly correct, for although I was never searched myself—except on the oneoccasion before mentioned—my next-door neighbour was “turned over” about twice a week. The reason that led to this was as follows:—I had found this man specially useful—he was quite a second Mike to me; anything I required he did, and in return I gave him portions of my superfluous food, and occasionally a piece of tobacco. This traffic had not passed unnoticed, and had been communicated to a warder by another prisoner, who felt himself aggrieved at the preference shown by me for his fellow prisoner. These sneakings are universally practised, and through my entire experience I had to be careful of these wretches; they watched me and hated me, and if they got the chance, always rounded on “The Swell.” Swell indeed! The swelling had long ago subsided. I only weighed, thank heavens! about fourteen stone. These sneakings never affected me, and one of these individuals was once considerably astonished at getting three days bread and water for a privileged communication about me. A circumstance that occurred one day impressed me very much on the matter of destiny, and the accidents that sometimes combine to form a linkbetween two individuals that a month or two previously would never have been dreamed of. It was the day on which (the late) Dr. Lamson had been sentenced to death. I was standing not far from the prison van, which had lately returned after depositing him at the House of Detention, and watching two prisoners cleaning it out. The partition that he had occupied contained three or four pillows, and I was informed it was a delicate attention on the part of the Government to prevent condemned men intentionally injuring themselves. “What are those pillows for?” I asked of a turnkey. “Oh, they’re only Dr. Lamson’s,” was the facetious reply; “he was sentenced to-day, so we just put them in for fear he should chafe himself, poor fellow.” When the cleaning was over my brother reprobate led me to understand he had made a discovery. Beneath the pillows he had found three cigars; he considerately gave me one, as indeed prison etiquette demanded, it being an axiom that an uncompromised holder of a secret is never to be trusted. I certainly should not have rounded on myconfrère, but was nevertheless very glad to be the recipient of a specimen of this“Marwood” brand. It was a sin to chew them, but there was no alternative, as smoking was out of the question. Half-an-hour later, as I bit off a piece, the thought forced itself upon me, “Three months ago, he at Bournemouth, and I at Brighton, had never heard of one another, and here I am chewing the condemned man’s tobacco.” Funny thing, destiny!
Religiousceremonial plays an important part at Coldbath Fields. The quantity, indeed, is lamentably in excess of the quality, and leavened with a degree of barbaric hypocrisy incapable of engendering any feeling but that of nausea. Language fails me in trying to describe it in its proper light; and though reluctant to appear as scoffing at religion—which I emphatically repudiate—what I saw and heard makes it a hopeless task to allude to the subject and yet divest it of its component parts. This cure of some 1400 (criminal) souls was vested in two chaplains, of whom one had the misfortune to be a gentleman. I say “misfortune” advisedly, for unless incapable of contamination the most charitably inclined and refined is bound to deteriorate. Their duties, inaddition to those usually associated with clergymen, embraced asoupçonof the schoolmaster with a dash of the district visitor, and if they were disposed (which all were not) to throw in a slice of detective work, it was not considered a disqualification for further preferment. The spiritual welfare of the Protestant portion of the prisoners was divided between them, all fresh arrivals during this month being specially assigned to the one, and all coming in the next devolving on the other. The etiquette and punctilio that regulated this division when once made, was as marked as that usually found amongst country medical practitioners. Thus, if Sykes the burglar, who happened to be one of the Rev. Smith’s lambs, unfortunately cracked his skull, and was in immediate want of spiritual consolation, he would in all probability be requested to defer his departure till the arrival of the Rev. Robinson. I mention this in regard to the system, and not as referring to anyone in particular, although the way I was ignored (very much to my delight) some weeks later, when my particular pastor was on leave, fortifies me in the conviction that my theory is correct.
A portion of the prisoners are visited daily by their respective chaplains, and day after day, between ten and twelve, is devoted to this solemn pilgrimage. That religion may be administered in various forms was apparent from the method pursued respectively by the two chaplains. The one seemed to think that a kind word and a pleasant smile might safely be addressed to the vilest criminal without detracting from his spiritual dignity; the other relied implicitly on scowls and frowns, and a recitation of the terrors of judgment and hell as the proper ministration for miserable sinners.
I have special cause to be grateful for the accident that assigned me to whom it did, as, being a Presbyterian, and never having benefited to the extent of “confirmation,” I should most assuredly have found my spiritual lines cast in harder places under an uncompromising bigot of Episcopacy, than under one who was willing to admit, that the kingdom of Heaven was not specially reserved for members of the Church of England. The multifarious calls on his time prevented my chaplain from seeing me more frequently than once orsometimes twice in a fortnight; but even these occasional visits did not pass unnoticed, and I gleaned, from a casual remark he once made, that his spiritual superior considered a visit every two months ample for the requirements of the most depraved outcasts. I can only attribute this conclusion to the potency of his peculiar ministration, which, unless taken in homoeopathic doses, might possibly have been injurious to both body and soul.
I never came much in contact with the chief pillar of the chapel, though I was made acquainted with his usual routine by many of his flock:—“What are you here for? Do you say your prayers?” were the soothing conundrums he rapped out on his periodical visits; and if the answer was in the negative, it was followed by “D’you know where you’re going to?” and then the door was slammed with a reverence suitable to the occasion. The relief that followed his exodus was, however, only momentary; and again the key rattled in the door, and a head, with eyes flashing, was once more thrust in, and yelled out, “To hell!” For of such is the kingdom of Heaven!
Chapel was an infliction one was subjected to four times a week. The service in its entirety was conducted with a strict regard to official etiquette, and the degrees of relative rank were as clearly defined by the Bibles and prayer-books as by the seats, hassocks, reading desks, etc., allotted to the officials. Thus, the Governor’s Bibles and prayer-books were gilt-bound, with gilt clasps; the deputy Governor’s, Scripture-reader’s, and schoolmaster’s, gilt bindings without the clasps; the principal warders’, clasps without the gilt binding; and those of the rank-and-file of warders destitute of either gilt binding or clasps. Prisoners had to content themselves with thumbed, dog-eared, leafless specimens, and so the united hallelujahs ascended to Heaven—let us hope equally acceptable, whether dog-eared or gilded. The interior of this sacred edifice resembled a barn, the nave being fitted up with rows of backless benches capable of accommodating some 600 knaves, a yard apart.
A bird’s-eye view of this congregation was one that challenged reflection, comprising as it did young men and old, dark and fair, short and stout,tall and thin, lads with fluff, and hoary-headed sinners, all stamped with the same mark of Cain—hang-dog faces and protruding jowls, conical heads with hair extending down the nape, bullet pates and cadaverous faces, cripples and blind men, one-legged and one-armed, yet all, with few exceptions, marked with the same indescribable jail-bird brand never to be mistaken, and once seen never to be forgotten.
The floor was tesselated (of the alms-house period), and one of the hardest floors with which I had ever come in contact. I realized this from a regulation that necessitated one’s grovelling on the slightest provocation. The walls of this portion of the building were of a bilious-official mud colour, the monotony of which was occasionally relieved by scrolls and texts of a personal nature. Beyond were a few steps leading to the pulpits and pews for the higher officials; here the mural decorations assumed a brighter form—indeed, paint seemed to have been laid on regardless of expense, and with a degree of vulgarity I had never seen equalled, except perhaps in Albert Grant’s lately pulled-down house atSouth Kensington. The mania for smearing the walls with texts was by no means confined to the chapel, but was to be found everywhere that propriety and extreme religious fervour seemed to suggest. Thus over the surgery, as a reminder to possible schemers, “lying lips” were very properly condemned; near the stores advice as to “picking and stealing” was conspicuously displayed, with about as much effect as if it had been placed in the oakum-picking wards; and everywhere, conspicuousby its absence, was the wholesome admonition, “If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, this man’s religion is vain.”
The chapel, moreover, boasted of an organ—a serious infliction, involving a temptation for the encouragement of singing; and nobody that has not heard 600 malefactors without an “h” in their composition bellowing “’Oly, ’oly, ’oly,” can sympathize to the extent the occasion merits. I was peculiarly unfortunate in my usual seat, which happened to be amongst the trades, and was flanked by the blacksmiths. I never heard them yelling without thinking thatHandel’s “Harmonious Blacksmith” must have been a different sort, which in its turn gave way to the “four-and-twenty blackbirds that were baked in a pie,” and then I was recalled to the proximity of the four-and-twenty blacksmiths by “’Oly, ’oly, ’oly.” I could have wept from sheer sympathy when I heard that glorious “Te Deum” so brutally massacred, and pitied the organist—an excellent musician—for having to play on such an instrument to such an accompaniment.
The entrance of the prisoners was not conducted on the principle customary in places of worship (though I suppose no one really associated this specimen with any attributes of the kind), but was accompanied by the blowing of whistles, and shouts of “Move higher up!” “Come on, there!” “D’you know where you are?” “This ain’t a music-hall!” and such-like appropriate exclamations. Music-hall indeed! The Middlesex magistrates would never licence such an exhibition; indeed, it only required a few handfuls of orange-peel to have made it a formidable rival of “The Vic.” in its palmiest days.
The chief cause of most of this indecentbehaviour was one of the head warders, and when this man superintended the chapel parade the scene was disgraceful; and “Take that man’s name down!” “I’ll send you to your cell, sir!” and bully, bully, bully, was the preparation for the service. This is no exaggeration, and hundreds of officials and prisoners will recognize the description. At the same time it is only right to add that the Governor and chaplains have no means of knowing of these daily outrages, for custom regulates their entrance after the chapel is full, and when a toadying, eye-serving, make-believe reverence has succeeded the state of things I have described. The service was happily not a long one, and twenty minutes was the average duration from find to finish. It was conducted, I should say, with a tendency to High Church formula on the part of the clergy and a portion of the congregation. Thus, the ministers, the laundrymen, and the blacksmiths invariably turned to the east during certain portions of the service, whilst the Governor (an old man-of-war’s man, who could box the compass as well as ever), myself (I could see the weathercock from my window), theneedle-men, who followed me to a man, and here and there a tailor, as persistently faced due north.
The habit of trying to sing “second” was a very severe trial to listen to, and I remonstrated with one old man that I looked on as a kind of ringleader, at the pain his efforts caused me. His voice was by way of being a tenor, and his disregard of all harmony induced me to christen him “Wagner.” One day poor old Wagner appeared with his neck painted with iodine, and the feeble croaks that he emitted, however painful to himself, were a considerable relief to me. Remembering, too, that when the Devil is sick he is supposed to be most susceptible of good impressions, and not wishing to lose the opportunity of working on his feelings, I determined to let him have it. I impressed on him the brittleness of tenor voices in general; how susceptible their metempsychosis was to disorganisation; how the epidermis of the carotid artery was peculiarly sensitive; and, with a casual glance at his neck, implored him for his own sake, if not for mine, to give his voice a rest. With beads of perspiration and iodine trickling down his back, he gasped compliance; and thus Ireduced my “crosses” by one. Another horrid old man never failed to irritate me. He was undergoing twelve months’ imprisonment for inciting little boys to steal, but was now on the religious tack. So religious, indeed, had he become, that in a portion of “The Creed” he could not say “hell,” but invariably substituted “the grave.” I had never heard this impertinent innovation before, and could have kicked him and his hypocrisy into Wagner’s lap. Instantaneous conversions, such as took place years ago during the so-called Revivals, were of occasional occurrence, brought about, as I take it, by the thrilling discourses we were sometimes treated to, and the “awakened one” would stand up and hold forth. But very short work was made of these converts, and a couple of matter-of-fact warders soon trundled them out, to be brought up later on and punished for disturbing the service. I made a careful study of the two chaplains and their respective peculiarities in conducting the service. With the one I never had cause for annoyance, and though his sermons could not be said to bristle with eloquence, he was evidently in earnest, andmindful of the fact that the word Protestant embraced more denominations than one, and seemed particularly careful not to outrage the feelings of the many Presbyterians, Wesleyans, and other Nonconformists that formed a portion of the congregation. The other reverend individual had a partiality for the declamatory style, and whenever circumstances, or the calendar, gave him the option of selecting a psalm, never failed to declaim how “Moab is my washpot, over Edom will I cast out my shoe” (Ps. cviii.). I verily believe he used to think he was talking of his own household effects, and the expressions of admiration on the faces of the blacksmiths generally leave little or no doubt in my mind that they were thoroughly convinced he was appraising the contents of his charming little suburban retreat. But what he revelled in were the commandments: “Thou shalt” and “Thou shalt not” were balm to the holy man, and I was always pleased to see him enjoying himself. A favourite dodge amongst prisoners, now pretty well played out, is to petition for a remission of sentence on the plea of conversion and regeneration. That such a circumstance should be flattering tothe vanity of a man who is morally convinced of his incapacity for converting anything, is not to be wondered at, but the marvel is, how men with the varied experience of prison chaplains (I speak generally) should be gulled by such shallow artifices. That they are, however, is beyond dispute. I have met and conversed with many of these brands plucked from the burning, and my experience accords with that of many capable of forming an opinion, that they are matchless both in cunning and rascality. They are invariably tale-bearers, or what are known in the comprehensive criminal vocabulary as “creepers,” for they do creep up the back of any one foolish enough to confide in them, and as surely creep down the next official’s who is mean enough to encourage their tattle. These gentlemen are pretty well labelled, and I made it a practice to always preface my conversation with any of them by letting them understand they might tell “Gehazi,” or any one they pleased, all and everything I might happen to say. One glaring instance of the converted type that I often led into conversation told me that he was very sanguine on the subject of a remission ofthe remainder of his sentence; that one of the chaplains was “working it” for him; and, indeed, that he and many other likely to be well informed individuals, such as assistant-turnkeys and fellow-prisoners may be presumed to be, had assured him that his success was a foregone conclusion. I asked him how he succeeded in getting such “powerful” advocacy, and although at first he assumed the fervent style, he very soon relapsed into his normal condition on seeing that I looked on him as a humbug. He then proceeded to explain that he began by expressing a desire to see his chaplain in private, in hopes of satiating the thirst for peace of mind that gave him no rest; that this led to salutary advice and a fagot of tracts, and had ended in his partaking of the Holy Communion—I almost hesitate to repeat this rank blasphemy, and my only justification is its unexaggerated truth; indeed, I would not dare to write such horrors unless fortified by my veracity. He went on to add that it was awfully jolly, and that he generally received any surplus that might remain of the consecrated bread or wine.
I am indebted to him for the following details ofthe custom that prevailed on these solemn occasions, which, retailed in a bantering style, may be briefly summed up as follows:—That the ceremony was usually attended by one official of each grade—such as the deputy governor, one chief warder, one warder, and a turnkey—to whom it was administered according to seniority; that the prisoners’ turn came next, and that by a judicious foresight he usually managed to secure the first place. He went on to add that he confidently expected some cozy billet in the prison suitable to his serious tendencies, and that his chaplain had promised to interest himself in procuring him some situation on discharge. As we became more intimate, he confided to me that he could never undergo poverty and privation again, and was determined to attain affluence, honestly if possible, but otherwise by one bold dash that should attain his end, or qualify him for penal servitude. This hopeful convert had been convicted of a till robbery, and had moreover committed forgery, which had not been preferred against him on condition that he restored the stolen money. It was this last spontaneous (!) honourable act that formed the basisof his petition, proving his instantaneous remorse for the error of a moment—a remorse that had since ripened into sincere and heartfelt repentance. He concluded by informing me that his chaplain had led him to understand he should probably give him a few pounds on his discharge, but that he had been deceived so often by “converts” he had assisted eventually becoming “convicts,” that he hesitated to help any of whose sincerity he was not perfectly satisfied. Let us hope he has not again been a victim of misplaced confidence! I have on more than one occasion found it difficult to maintain my gravity when hearing this rogue and his victim discussing Bible questions, and whining at the ridicule he had to submit to on account of his convictions, and receiving consolation by the quotation of the case of Mary Magdalene. I have no scruple in giving this account, as the principal actor has long since been discharged (but not on his petition, which was naturally refused), and because it is an ungarnished, indisputable proof of the deceptions practised by criminals, and goes a long way to justify the apparently harsh treatment frequently accorded them. That the chaplains area conscientiously disposed class may be gleaned from the circumstance that on one occasion, when a converted sinner after his discharge sent asouvenirin the shape of an eighteen-pennypapier mâchéinkstand, the reverend recipient declined to accept it till he had first obtained the sanction of the visiting Justices.
“Tantum religio potuit suadere.”
“Tantum religio potuit suadere.”
Duringmy career as a gardener I became very unwell. I attribute this in a measure to a recurrence of a malady contracted in the tropics, and a chill I caught from lying on damp grass in a draughty yard. Another cause of my serious and probably life-long illness may possibly be traced to an insane and spontaneous act—an over-taxation of nature—many months previously. I had fined down in the ordinary course of events to the weight and bulk (according to my theory) that nature clearly intended; but not content with this satisfactory result, I determined to attain still slimmer proportions. Many indications convinced me I had found “my bearings,” and common sense ought to have suggested,enough; but vanity prevailed, and perseverance attained the further desiredreduction, though at a more serious price than I had contemplated. My theory on the reduction of fat is based on my own case, and had I stopped as I recommend others, when I had found “my bearings,” I should have retained my usual health; as it was I went on and on, and like those enthusiasts who sacrifice health and life to the perfecting of a principle, so I, regardless of my own convictions, acted in direct opposition to my advice to others, and may be congratulated on having probed a theory to the very bottom at considerable personal sacrifice. If any sceptic is disposed to disparage my system, I ask him to blame me and not it. The latter consists of a dietary in itself harmless, and certain to produce diminution. When a certain point is attained it saysSTOP; and if it is asked why, I reply because beyond that point it is rash, and if persisted in, the theory is clearly not to blame. I am aware that many will seize the opportunity to disparage the system, and endeavour to deter others from following it. Such a course would be as logical as to condemn a glass of sherry, because someone had died fromdelirium tremens; or to abstain from eels because Henry I.had died from a surfeit of lampreys; or, to carry the absurdity a degree further, to avoid (like the old woman) apple-tart, because her husband had died of apple-plexy. It was in the spring that I commenced my campaign against nature, and though I had ample proof that I had arrived at my “natural bearings,” I determined (never dreaming of the danger) to persevere a little more. I was then about 15 stone in weight, and knowing it was a stone in excess of the average for men of my build, I thought if I could reduce just one stone more I would rest satisfied. I found, however, that my ordinary daily diet of mutton broth, a chop, potatoes, bread, and cocoa failed to reduce me as it had hitherto done, and that, try as I would, I recorded the same weight a fortnight hence. The remedy that most naturally suggested itself was to reduce the quantity, and I proceeded to divest my consumption, of the broth, the fat from the chops, and a portion of the potatoes and cocoa; but nature still continued to warn me, and I as persistently ignored her, and, losing all patience, I entered on a course little short of starvation. I took a solemn oath that I would for one weekconfine myself to six ounces of bread and six mouthfuls of water a day (six ounces of bread will be found to be synonymous to six mouthfuls, and no more). During the first 48 hours my appetite became ravenous, and on the third and fourth days the pains of hell did indeed get hold of me; and it was as much as I could do to resist the temptation of taking one mouthful of the savoury broth and mutton that was lying untouched on my table. The trial now became almost more than I could bear, and more than once I approached the table, where the food would have to remain for an hour, but at the last moment drew back. So acute, indeed, did I find this agony that, to avoid temptation and to put it out of my power, I used to throw the food into the slop-pail. After a few days, the cravings of appetite began to cease, and I congratulated myself that I was getting accustomed to it. An accidental circumstance also prevented my testing the result at the end of the seven days, and I continued in my madness for another week. On being weighed I then found I had lost nine or ten pounds. My appetite meanwhile had entirely forsaken me; the smell and even the sight of meatproduced nausea, my eyes seemed to be affected, my head began to swim, I became giddy without cause. I was now really ill, and I endeavoured to remedy the evil, but my stomach refused nourishment, and if I ate I was immediately sick. The possibility of having fatally injured myself so alarmed me that I saw the surgeon, who prescribed tonics and a change of diet; and, as all failed in restoring outraged nature, I was admitted into hospital. During this time Dr. Tanner and his starvation exhibition were constantly in my mind, and the man I had once associated with the performance of a wonderful feat of self-denial descended in my mind to the level of a poor sick man like myself, absolutely incapable of taking food. Starvation has an ugly sound, and in its first stages is unquestionably painful; but in a very few days (three or four at the most) the sensation passes away, and is succeeded by an absolute aversion to food. When I have seen a half-starved man in the streets who has told me he has not tasted food for a week and was “so ’ungry,” my bowels of compassion have always been moved. If any mendicant was to tell me so now, I shouldknow he was lying and refuse to assist him; but if he said he had not eaten for two days and was in agony, I should pity him and give him sixpence if I had it. I shall give a detailed account of my life in hospital, and the incredible kindness and consideration I received, later on. Meanwhile I will confine myself to the assertion, that to such an extent had I injured myself that in six weeks I had lost two stone. On one’s admission into hospital one is at once put to bed, and one’s clothes removed. This latter custom is intended to insure a proper compliance with the regulation, until the doctor’s sanction is obtained to the contrary. “Sitting up” has, however, been found to be half way to “going down”; and, as hospital is the goal to which all prisoners aspire, it does not require much inducement to commend their observance of this particular rule. The hospital consists of a large airy ward, fitted up with twenty beds. Through this, and communicating with a glass door, is a smaller room with three large windows, which gave a clear view of the outer world from Holborn Town Hall to St. Pancras Station. It was my good fortune to be located here, detached andalone, and yet sufficiently near to see and hear all that was going on. The menial duties of the hospital are performed by three prisoners selected for good behaviour. These billets are specially prized, and though associated with the most unpleasant duties, offer facilities for eating and drinking which, in the estimation of prisoners, cover a multitude of drawbacks. These cleaners eat up everything; indeed, so fat do they often become that it is a kind of unwritten rule that when they have increased a stone in weight they revert to prison life. The voracity they display is incredible, and until they become too dainty to care for anything but the best, they may daily be seen finishing eggs, tea, mutton, milk, beef tea, pudding, and arrowroot promiscuously, as they pass from patient to patient. The opportunity for this gluttony is unlimited, and a glance at the fare I subsisted on for over five months will convince the most sceptical that kindness and liberality can exist even in a prison; indeed, I attribute my being alive now to the tender care and medical skill I received, and can never adequately express my gratitude to the surgeons and the entire hospital staff.
My dietary consisted of—
6A.M.
—Half-a-tumbler of rum and new milk.
7 ,,
—A pint of tea, bread-and-butter, and an egg or two.
11 ,,
—A pint of new milk.
12 noon
—Beef-tea, rice-pudding, and two glasses of sherry.
(I was offered, when I wished it, to substitute a chop, fish, chicken, rabbit, oranythingI might fancy.)
5P.M.
—A pint of tea, bread-and-butter, and an egg.
7 ,,
—A pint of new milk. (This milk was so excellent, that often when I left it for the night, I skimmed off a thick coating of cream that would have shamed many dairies.)
8 ,,
—A pint of arrowroot.
Every item was the best that money could procure, and unlimited in the supply, nor could I havelived better at a West-End hotel at thirty shillings a day; but my health precluded my enjoying it, and I could not summon the appetite for one-tenth of the dainties. Everything I left was devoured by the cleaners, and I have seen these cormorants gorging as if determined to burst rather than waste a scrap. Mine was by no means an isolated case, for every one was equally cared for, and it seemed as if a man had only to be really ill to be made to forget that he had fallen amongst thieves, and was now under the care of the good Samaritan. Sick men are proverbially impressionable; but now, months after, in a genial climate, surrounded by every comfort that a kind mother can think of, and gradually regaining my strength, I cannot look back on the past without feelings amounting almost to veneration, as I remember the kind friend and skilful hand that saved me from the jaws of death. The hospital is unquestionably the best managed of the various departments in Coldbath. I attribute this to the excellent staff of experienced warders, and the supervision of the medical officers. Where all seem actuated by the same desire, it would beinvidious to draw comparisons; but the authorities little know what hard-working, efficient, and trustworthy men they have in their two night-warders, who week by week relieve each other, and perform their multifarious duties through the livelong night in a quiet, unostentatious way, and all for a pittance of an extra shilling a night beyond that paid to an ordinary turnkey. The many sleepless nights I passed gave me ample time to study their habits, which never varied, nor seemed regulated by eye-service; and from 6 in the evening, when they appeared neatly attired in white jacket and apron, till 6 in the morning, these living automatons neither slumbered nor slept, but were engaged, without intermission, in dispensing medicines, preparing plasters and poultices, and keeping up the fires, without fuss or noise, and with the regularity of a chronometer. At first my utter prostration prevented me leaving my bed, but as time wore on, I began to get about and observe what was going on. The day was a long and dreary one, though it was optional when one got up, nor could it be divested of the many annoyances that officialism—spiritual andtemporal—seemed unable to forego even in a hospital. The chief culprit was the Scripture reader (as I understood was his official designation, though I never saw or heard him so engaged), who appeared regularly at 2 o’clock, and read a monotonous harangue, with a religious tendency evidently intended to be entertaining. I should be sorry to misjudge the worthy man, whom I am disposed rather to sympathize with, as the passive instrument of an irreverent exhibition; indeed, he conveyed to me the notion of a man actuated by a strong desire to fulfil a duty conscientiously which he felt was contemptible, and that deceived neither himself nor his audience. This farce and its surroundings were all sprinkled with the same reverential ceremony, and as he strutted up the passage with his billycock under his arm, a subdued tone pervaded the room and heads were uncovered as became the solemn farce. “The subject for our study and meditation,” began the unhappy man, “is entitled, ‘Jonas, or the bilious whale,’ or, ‘Cain, the naughty man,’” as the case might be; and then followed twenty minutes of twaddle, senseless and monotonous, and asincapable of removing moral stains as would be “Thorley’s Food for Cattle,” if substituted in things temporal (and seedy) for “Benzine Collas.” A fervent “Amen” always followed these effusions, loudly joined in by the cleaners, who felt it might be considered a recommendation for continued hospital employment, and those patients approaching convalescence, who hoped it might turn the scale in favour of a few more days in hospital. By opening the door I could see and hear everything, and I often caught poor “Bubbling Bill” casting sheep’s eyes in my direction. Meals were always preceded by a grace (?) said by a turnkey: “Bless O lor’ th’ things touruse for crysake, Amen!” a refreshing and commendable adjunct.
It seems peculiarly unfair on religion that it should so often be presented in a hideous or ridiculous light, and if the same stipulations were enforced as to quality as at present exist as to quantity, more things than time might possibly be saved.
At 11, and again at night, the surgeons visited the hospital, when every case was carefully goneinto. The care that prisoners receive in this hospital puts crime almost at a premium, and though I may indirectly be accusing those eminent and otherwise irreproachable physicians of unintentionally aiding and abetting law-breaking, veracity compels me to say what I think. A case I met goes far to prove it. In the hospital with me was a broken-down old gardener who had seen better days, and was in receipt of a pension of five shillings a week from a former employer. This pittance, however conclusive it might be of his comparative honesty, was wholly inadequate to procure medical comforts for rheumatic gout, to which he was a martyr. He next appears at a police court for having a pig in his yard, which he had driven in from the street, and then informed the police. There can be only one solution of this act, for he was a man of sixty, beyond absolute want, and had never seen the inside of a prison before. He had now attained his object, and was undergoing three months’ imprisonment, during all which time he was in hospital. I saw him on admission, a cripple, crumpled up and half-starved, and I saw him every day swaddled in cotton wool,his limbs frequently fomented, and fed on the daintiest luxuries. This man was one of the few I met who was grateful for the care bestowed on him, and honest enough to wish he had had six instead of three months’ imprisonment. I saw him on the day of his discharge, comparatively cured, and wondered how long it would be before he again caught the right sow by the ear. A disadvantage that patients have to suffer from is the architectural construction of the ward: it unites the two angles of the prison, and necessitates its being traversed in its entire length by every official going his rounds. On these occasions great inconsideration is shown, the orange-peel delinquent of chapel notoriety being peculiarly offensive in the unnecessary noise he made. I heard him on one occasion complain to the warder, that a patient, who was almostin extremisat the time, was “too lazy to look up.”
During my retirement I saw more than one painful death-scene; the one that made the most unpleasant impression on me was that of a living skeleton, who seemed incapable of dying, although too weak to do anything but blaspheme dreadfully,and keep up one incessant groan. He was a man of sixty, and had been in his time the best known and expertest of swell-mobsmen. He had not a relation in the world, and although offered his discharge months before, had nowhere or no one to whom he could go. I saw this man dying for weeks, and eventually stood at his bedside when he took his last gasp. This man had been either a convict or undergoing imprisonment for the last twenty years, and the crime that led to his death in Coldbath was the sacrilege of putting a counterfeit half-crown into a collection plate, and taking out as change a genuine florin. One of the cleaners—an unmitigated thief, but sufficiently good to have qualified for staff employ—had told the warder the day before his death that he knew him to be acquainted with certain persons he named; and with the consideration that characterizes the treatment of prisoners in hospital, no pains were spared to discover the creatures. I saw them next day (two females, known to every policeman in London, the one as the keeper of a thieves’ lodging-house, the other as a “decoy”), actuated by no motive but curiosity and the intimation they hadreceived, standing at the dying man’s bed in their tawdry finery, in company with the priest as attired in chasuble and stole he pronounced the extreme unction for dying sinners. The dying man, the kindly priest, the tawdry females, and the surroundings, formed a picture truly awful, and baffling description. But the end had not yet come; and as the room was again left to its normal condition, banter reassumed its sway, and bets began to be made as to the probable hour of his death. Pots of tea and bread-and-butter were freely wagered, and yet through the livelong night the dying groans, getting feebler and feebler, told how the swell-mobsman was still tussling with death. At five in the morning the end was evidently at hand, and slipping on my clothes, I joined the knot of men attracted to the bedside. The man was happily unconscious; and as the excitement of the sweepstake increased, I can only compare it to the game of roulette, when the ball almost rolls into one compartment and then topples into the next; and “He’s dead now,” “No, he isn’t,” “That’s his last,” followed gasp after gasp, till at a few minutes to six a profound silenceannounced that the swell-mobsman was gone. (It is only fair to state that much of this occurred unknown to the solitary warder, for what was one amongst so many?) By this time the prison bell was ringing, and the place was astir as day and night warders relieved one another. To stretch, strip, and carry him out of bed were the work of a moment; and what had been a living man a few seconds before had been washed, laid out, rolled in a blanket, and carried to the dead-house in less time than I have taken to write it.
The washing and laying out of a corpse is too dreadful to pass unnoticed. This necessary but revolting ceremony is performed in the kitchen. I saw the corpse divested of all clothing, lying on the top of the bath, in the centre of the kitchen, with the kettle boiling within a yard of it, and surrounded by pots and pans and other paraphernalia in daily use. The stench that pervaded the kitchen after this ceremony was so apparent (nor could it be got rid of for days) that I was absolutely unable to eat anything that had passed through it, and for days subsisted on the insides ofloaves and eggs, as the only places where the flavour of potted pickpocket did not appear to have penetrated. This washing of corpses and the “itch bath” in a hospital kitchen is as great a scandal as ever was perpetrated by any Government.
The dead-house is a primitive establishment, and cannot even be divested of superfluous officialism. Its entire contents consist of a slab and a wooden block for the head of the corpse, and yet it boasted of an inventory board. This latter absurdity is conspicuously displayed, and reads—
“ONE TABLE.”“ONE BLOCK.”
“ONE TABLE.”
“ONE BLOCK.”
Another death I saw was even more awful in its suddenness. It was during dinner when some five or six patients were devouring their chops. One man, that was conspicuous for his habitual voracity, had left the table whilst waiting for the pudding. As he passed his bed he toppled over and was dead. The cook, with the characteristic officiousness of the criminal class, rushed out of the kitchenwith a saucepan full of rice pudding in his hand, and began to assist at the ghastly manipulation. I was within a foot of him, and saw the wretch brush off a tear from the dead man’s eye, which he then proceeded to close; he then resumed his culinary duties, and gave the saucepan a stir. Rice pudding, I understand, is liable to “stick” to the pot; for my part, I made a vow to “stick” to dry bread; indeed, I never see one now without being reminded of this disgusting scene.
I was now beginning to yearn for tobacco. For some days past my illness had indisposed me for it; besides, my arrangements had been upset by my sudden admission into hospital. To communicate with one of my agents, although by no means difficult, was a question of opportunity. I was particularly anxious, too, not to be suspected of breaking a rule, for though it could only have been interpreted as a breach of discipline to be dealt with by the Executive, I found it difficult to divest myself of the notion it would appear ungracious towards my kind physicians if I transgressed any rule whilst in hospital. But my craving increased, and as I could not eat, and to smoke I was afraid,and consoling myself with the assurance that what the eye does not see, the heart does not feel, I decided, in the burning words of Bishop Heber, to “mind my eye and blaze away.”
My position necessitated my breaking a fundamental rule of my principle, and I confided in a rascally cleaner. I had, indeed, no alternative, for, though by the confidence I increased the chances of detection, I minimized and almost precluded the possibility of the ownership being brought home to me. My first anxiety was to find a place, for between my mattresses was out of the question, and I at length decided on the flooring; but selecting a plank and removing the nails are two different things, and I should have been defeated at the very outset. Chance, however, favoured me; and one day, to my great delight, a ram was caught in the thicket, in the shape of a carpenter, come to repair a window. As opportunity offered, I pointed out to him a short plank, and leaving the room, said, “I shall be back in ten minutes; meanwhile, if you remove those nails, and replace the plank so as not to be observable, I’ll give you as much grub as you can carry away.” These instructionswould have been ample, but fearing his zeal to earn the food might outrun his discretion, I popped my head in and added, “If you’re caught messing about, kindly remember I know nothing about it.” This will hardly be deemed chivalrous, though strictly in accordance with etiquette in giddy Clerkenwell. Being satisfied with his work, but dreading to explore my secret cave, I told a cleaner to collect all the spare bread-and-butter he could find. So well did he carry out my request that he shortly appeared with thirty-eight slices, but so bulky was the quantity that it was necessary to smuggle it in, and the coal-scuttle was pressed into the service; but my carpenter did not object, and, removing the lump that concealed it from the vulgar (turnkey) gaze, proceeded to devour it. With his mouth full of one slice and shoving in another, he occasionally gargled out, “This is a treat!” “This is jam!” until sixteen slices had disappeared. He now began to show signs of distress, and secreted the rest inside his shirt; but what between the sixteen slices inside and the twenty-two outside, his dimensions had so increased that detection was a certainty. I therefore refusedto let him leave unless he swallowed eight more—just to make an even two dozen—and the unhappy man again began. I can see him now, sitting on the window-sill, pretending to hammer, his eyes starting out of his head, imploring me to “let it be;” but I was firm, and had not the remotest intention of jeopardising my position by any such weakness. As the last piece disappeared, he was speechless, and I almost feared he was choked; but my mind was considerably relieved by his asking me, for mercy’s sake, to give him a drop of water. But there was none in the room, and, telling him it was all nonsense, and that the walk downstairs would make it all right, saw him leave the room with considerable satisfaction.
That evening I explored my cavern, which surpassed my fondest expectations; the architect must have put it there on purpose, so admirably was it adapted. Lifting up the eighteen-inch plank, I discovered a hollow place about six inches deep and two feet square. I now lost no time in getting my supplies, and, making a bag, at once filled it with paper, envelopes, a knife, pencil, anda cake of tobacco. From 6 to 7A.M.was my favourite hour for writing and other business. I then carefully replaced my treasures, and sent off my letters, leaving nothing criminating about me except five or six atoms of tobacco, which I would have swallowed rather than that they should have been discovered. There were several advantages connected with a choice of this hour. In it one was perfectly safe from interference; so busy, indeed, was everybody, that the orange-peel man, who was busy counting and inspecting, and the other officials sending off night reports, would never have dreamt of anyone devoting this particular hour to the breach of a dozen rules.
As time wore on, I began to dread the detection of my hiding-place; so conspicuous, too, did it appear to my guilty conscience that I determined to abandon it. The light seemed to pour on its well-worn crevices, the Governor stood on it twice or thrice a week, the surgeons crossed it a dozen times a day, warders absolutely hovered over it all day long; so I communicated with the cleaner, and entered into an arrangement whereby, for a consideration of food and a piece of tobacco daily, hewas to secrete my bag elsewhere. I felt it was madness to trust a confirmed thief, but there was no alternative; and within a week I discovered the fallacy of there being any honour amongst thieves, and the brute I had treated with the greatest liberality stole my bag, and came to me with a whining tale of how it had been discovered and taken away. It never alarmed me, as it would had I really believed him; and shortly after the whole conspiracy was revealed to me by about the only reliable prisoner amongst them, and I had undoubted proof of the complicity of every cleaner in the place.
“Whence comest thou, Gehazi?” (An exhortation to repentance)
My weary afternoons I usually beguiled by pantomimic love-passages with a frowsy damsel in a neighbouring house. Our acquaintance began as I watched a portion of her graceful form bulging over a window-sill she was cleaning at the time, which ripened into such an intimacy, that day by day we looked out for each other, and exchanged such protestations of devotion as might be conveyed by her holding up to me portions of her employer’s eatables, such as eggs and once a steak, which I gracefully reciprocated by exposing Governmentproperty, such as a medicine bottle and occasionally bread-and-butter. Graceful Selina! may my successor have been more worthy of your innocent virgin heart!
Thenumber of admissions into hospital about this time necessitated my having a companion billeted on me, an unfortunate Frenchman, utterly oblivious of any language but his own; and as it turned out that his attainments in English were exactly of the same extent as that of the warders in French, there seemed to be an impassable gulf fixed between all communication of ideas, if either party had happened to possess any. He was complaining to me one day of the disadvantage he laboured under, and described the usual conversation that took place daily between himself and the hospital warder.
“Well, are you better?”
“No, sare.”
“O, all right.”
“Voilà mon ami. What do you tink?”
My companion, I was gratified to observe, was gradually mastering some of the idioms of our language.
Not long after, an extraordinary creature was admitted as a patient, and I cannot to this day say what his nationality was, although I am inclined to believe his language was some kind of Russianpatois. Nobody could make head or tail of him, and a distracted warder, in this dilemma recollecting my success with the “other foreigner” and doubtless giving me credit for a knowledge of every language of the earth besides a few of the lunar ones, came and asked me to try and understand him. My knowledge of outlandish languages is not remarkably extensive (it is confined, I may state, to the Hottentot word for “rice” and the Chinese for “smoke”), and as no one appeared to have a Russian dictionary, I addressed him in Hindustani, considering that in point of longitude it came geographically nearest the Russian. He at once replied in a rambling speech, throwing his arms about and beating his chest; and though I am convinced he understood no more of my speech than I had of his, my reputation was established, the more so as he had no means ofbetraying my secret. Having then explained to the warder that he complained of pains in the chest, and would prefer an egg beaten in his tea instead of boiled (a change I considered unlikely to materially affect his complaint), I retired to my apartment.
I now for the first time came into personal collision with the chaplain. For weeks and months circumstances, and possibly choice, had kept us apart, nor had we exchanged a word since the eventful day when he discovered that an “unconfirmed” sinner stood before him. It was during prayers (a movable feast indulged in three mornings a week at the chaplain’s convenience) that I was referring to a book on the table in hopes of finding the particular extract he was reading. Failing in that I replaced the book, and resumed my hypocritical solemnity, in blissful ignorance of any impropriety. The holy man, however, thought otherwise, and hissed out at me—
“I consider your behaviour impertinent to me, and disrespectful to God.”
At first I retained my equanimity, for he was incapable of raising my ire; and I assured him what my object had been, and reminded him I wasa Presbyterian. At this his rage knew no bounds, and sneering in a manner unworthy of a clergyman (I won’t say a gentleman), he said—
“A Presbyterian, are you? Ah, I thought you didn’t belong to the Church of England!”
I soon got the unhappy man’s back up. I assured him I was indifferent to his opinion, and added I was proud to belong to a Church where such intolerant views were not expressed by its ministers. This undignified scene was heartily enjoyed by twenty prisoners and warders, all of whom assured me I had had considerably the best of it. I intended to have paraded him before the visiting Justices, but common sense prevailed, and I should have ignored his further existence had it not been for a petty spite he indulged in shortly after. As I have before stated, the library books are under his special care. During my long illness I had waded through this “special” catalogue till I had reached number 21, and in the course of events might naturally hope to receive number 22 next. In this, however, I had made a miscalculation, and his Reverence decided that a school edition (the eighth I had read) of the History of England was a more wholesome dietary for abumptious Presbyterian. I was convinced the mistake was not unintentional, but, anxious to give him an opportunity of gracefully retracting a contemptible action, I sent the following day to point out his oversight. The reply was, as I expected, “If he does not choose to have it let him go without.” I reported the matter to the Governor, who at once offered to place the matter before the visiting Justices, as he had no jurisdiction in the matter; but I decided that the man and his book were neither worth it. I should now, under ordinary circumstances, have been left entirely bookless—a contingency in my case that did not occur. It also gave me the opportunity of reading “The General History of the Church,” a well-written and exhaustive work by the Abbé Daras, supplied for the use of Roman Catholics. The superiority of the literature—religious and profane—selected and supplied by the Roman Catholic chaplain, together with his personal merit and gentlemanly bearing, makes Romanism a formidable rival to the “Established” Religion as dispensed at Coldbath. To judge by the jealousy that exists in a certain quarter, it is evident this superiority is realized elsewhere. But thecircumstance was not unnoticed by my lynx-eyed, ghostly comforter. On many occasions I have seen him watching, as if he would have liked—had he dared—to ask me what I was reading; but he confined himself to discussing me with the warders, with such remarks as, “I see he’s got hold of something,” or “What’s that he’s reading?” all of which was duly reported to me. I feel I have given undue importance to this contemptible squabble; but I look on it as a tilt between sects, a tussle between an Episcopalian divine, armed with authority, and a Nonconformist, placed at a considerable disadvantage, and where—had I been in a position to do so—I should have left the room—as the Governor once did the Chapel when unmeasured and ill-advised criticism was being lavished on Dissenters. The guilt of schism lay heavily on this orthodox Churchman’s heart. I say schism, for I call it such of the most culpable type that ignores the insignia of Divine sanction accorded to the Ministry and people of Nonconformity. I would ask this bigoted Episcopalian what he thinks of Richard Baxter, Livingston, John Horne, Wesley, Whitfield, Chalmers, Candlish, Caird, Guthrie, McLeod, names only to bementioned to inspire veneration, and yet these were all Nonconformists of one denomination or another. Surely, if Divine grace finds and fashions such men, they may be considered as entitled to at least respect from clergymen and gentlemen, who, if they do not agree in their respective tenets, may at least abstain from unmeasured abuse of them and their followers! Arrogance anywhere is bad, but is doubly so when men who claim to be disciples of the meek and lowly Jesus set such an example by their narrow-minded remarks about Nonconformity. The Church of England is a venerable and illustrious section of the true Church, and unlikely to have its fair fame sullied by the ravings of a nameless ranter. But it becomes a question, is a chaplain with such extreme views, so uncompromising in his denunciations, so unguarded in his language, so ungovernable in his temper, the sort of person for a prison chaplain, or one likely to convert sinners from the error of their ways? God forbid that my remarks should be mistaken. I do not aspire to be considered either a ranter or a hypocrite, but I respect and never fail to detect religion, and despise its base counterfeit wherever and in whomsoever I find it; and if I can hear the“old story” ungarnished by rhetoric, I care not whether it emanates from Episcopalian, Presbyterian, or Nonconformist of whatever denomination.
That this is a very small world was demonstrated to me during a conversation I once had with a fellow prisoner. He was a decent, educated man, and had been in a pawnbroker’s establishment. Our conversation one night turned on things theatrical, and he was giving me some interesting experiences of the “ladies” he had met at various times on business. He asked me if I knew Mrs. —, and I said I had spoken to the old hag. He then proceeded to tell me what a constant customer she had been in former days, and how her contributions had varied from woollen rags one week to valuable jewellery another. It was then that a circumstance was brought to my mind—told me some three years ago by a lovely and accomplished actress, since retired from the stage—of how a popular burlesque artiste in the same theatre had once lost a valuable jewel, and how suspicion pointed at this identical old woman, who had a girl at the theatre. I asked him if he recollected anything about it, and he at once proceeded to give me details that convinced me thatthe pendant he referred to was one and the same as that which had mysteriously disappeared, and that the suspicions formed a few years ago might have been very fully confirmed had a visit been paid to an establishment not a hundred miles from Tottenham Court Road.
During my illness I had at different times the services of the various cleaners in making my bed, brushing the floor, and bringing in my meals, and I invariably extracted anything of interest about their previous careers. My first was an unmitigated young “till thief.” This is a special branch of the profession, requiring assurance rather than dexterity, and consists in watching your opportunity when the shop is empty, and then making a dash for the till or cash-box. My valet had apparently been eminently fortunate, and although he had undergone a previous twelve months, had escaped detection a score of times. He was then undergoing a lengthened seclusion for an unforeseen occurrence, which he in no way considered as a reflection on his prowess. He had, it appears, entered a confiding lamp-dealer’s, and finding the shop conveniently empty, and the cashbox conspicuously displayed, had done hisbusiness, and proceeded to leave the premises. A swinging glass door, however, unfortunately intervened between the shop and the street, which in the excitement he pushed the wrong way, and in some way jammed. This little delay made a difference in his and the shopman’s respective accounts of about £45. On another occasion he found himself in a corn-chandler’s—a class that is proverbially considerate in avoiding superfluous obstacles to a hurried exit,—and whilst helping himself to the till, a customer came in, who, seeing him engaged, asked for a pennyworth of barley; to this he obligingly served her, added the cumbrous coin to his other findings, and then complacently left the shop. This individual was a special pet with the turnkeys, and as such—combined with his trustworthy reputation—was invariably selected for expeditions to the various stores. His special talent here stood him in good stead, and he never returned without having stolen three or four eggs, a handful of flour, or a lump of soap. Indeed, so inherent was the spirit for thieving, that if all else failed, he would annex physic, and I have often seen him with bottles of quinine and iron mixture. This latter forms a considerablearticle of commerce, and is much sought after and bartered (never mind how or where) for advantages of a more palatable type. A short time before his discharge I advised him to drop the cash-box game, and he assured me he had quite determined to “turn it up.” Within a week he had been re-convicted, and is at present undergoing seven years’ penal servitude. In my next valet I was considerably disappointed. Although an unmitigated thief, I fancied I detected some redeeming features. I talked to him frequently, and treated him with as much kindness as a man with my circumscribed means had probably ever been able to. In return he assisted to rob me of contraband things, of which he always had a liberal share. He had been a lieutenant (in burglary) of the late Mr. Peace, and often discussed that eminent man with evident regret. He had been with him in various minor affairs, and through his entire career had never been “nabbed.” His present incarceration was the result of treachery, where a less fortunate associate had rounded on him, and he was arrested a week after. He often hoped to meet him outside, though an incident that occurred will necessitate a postponement of the pleasure. Abatch of convicts,en routeto penal servitude, were one day being medically examined by the surgeon (a new regulation lately come into force), amongst whom my valet recognised hisquasifriend, the informer. The interview took place near the kitchen, where my man was cooking a chop, the surgery being next door, at which the convicts were ranged. “And what did you say?” I enquired. “Say!” he replied, “I slapped my stomach to show ’im I was all right, and then I says, ‘You looks ’orrid ill, you —; you’ll never do it; thank God, ’twill kill yer.’”
A pleasant prelude to ten years’ penal servitude.
I am indebted to this noble-minded creature for many hints as to how burglaries are concocted and how best guarded against, and I am of opinion that attention to them will do more to obviate their frequency than all the absurd warnings as to window shutters and area gates, that periodically emanate from Scotland Yard. No burglary is ever attempted on chance; in fact, no house is ever entered except on exact and reliable information. This is usually obtained through a frivolous maidservant (in which case a delay of weeks may be necessary for love-making), a rascally butler, or thelocal chimney-sweep. The information chiefly sought after is the strength of the garrison (whether males or females), the class of valuables (whether plate or jewellery), their usual locality, and the habits of the occupants. With this as a basis, the house is watched for days and weeks, in order that a confirmation of the information may be obtained. The time preferred is when the night police are in the act of relieving the day men, and if that should be inconvenient (to the burglar), between the night patrols. All this may appear ridiculous, but I give it as the testimony of a notorious burglar, imparted to me in good faith, under exceptionally favourable circumstances for hearing the truth, and if acted on will materially increase the security of householders.