Every article of furniture has now been described, excepting the stool. It was a miniature tripod, fifteen inches high, with a round top about eight inches in diameter. A more uncomfortable seat could hardly be devised. There was no support for the back, and the legs had to be stretched out at full length. If you bent8 them you threw your body forward, and ran the risk of contracting round shoulders. Whenever I wanted a little ease, especially after dinner, when a V-shaped body is not conducive9 to digestion10, I used to rest against the upright plank bed, extend my legs luxuriously11, and dream of the cigar which was just the one thing required to complete a picture of comfort.
Such was the furniture of my apartment in Her Majesty's Holloway Hotel. Scantier13 appointments were impossible. Yet, to my surprise, an officer came in one day with an inventory14, to see if anything was missing. Rather a superfluous15 check, when the iron cell door was constantly locked and there was no opening to the window! A prisoner could hardly bury his furniture in a concrete floor, and the most ferocious16 appetite would surely quail17 before deal planks18 and tin pans.
The cell itself was similar to the one I have already described. The ventilation was provided by an iron grating over the door, communicating with a shaft19 that carried off the foul20 air; and another iron grating under the window, which admitted the fresh air from outside. This grating, however, did not communicate directly with the atmosphere, for the prison is built with double walls. Eighteen inches or so below it was another grating in the outer wall. This arrangement prevented the prisoners from getting a glimpse of the grounds, as well as the air from rushing in too rawly. My cell was one of the old ones. In the new cells there is a slightly different method of ventilation. Two of the small panes21 of glass are removed from the window, and a little frame is placed inside, consisting of wood at the sides and fluted22 glass in the front. Flush with the window-sill at the bottom, it inclines inward at an angle of twenty degrees, so that there is room at the top for a six-inch flap, which works on hinges, and is elevated or lowered by a chain. This is an improvement on the old system, because the fresh air comes in straight, and you can regulate the inflow. But in both cases the fresh air has to ascend23, and unless there is a wind blowing you get very little of it on a hot summer day. The ventilation depending entirely24 on temperature, without being assisted by a draught25, if the outside temperature, as is often the case in the summer, happens to be higher than that of your cell, your atmosphere is stagnant26, and you live in a tank of foul air. This defect might be partially27 remedied by leaving the cell doors open when the prisoners are out at exercise or chapel28, and, as it were, refilling the tank. But keys are a fetish in prison, and the officials think it quite as necessary to lock up an empty cell as an occupied one.
The cell floor, I have said, was blackleaded and polished. A small fibre brush was supplied for sweeping29 up the dust, and a tight roll of black cloth for polishing. I used both these at first, but I soon dispensed30 with the latter. Having a slight cold, I found my expectoration black, a circumstance that slightly alarmed me until I reflected that my lungs were in excellent order, and that the discoloration must be due to some extrinsic31 cause. This I discovered to be the blacklead from the floor. It wears off under your tread, and as there is no draught to carry the dust away, it floats in the air and is inhaled32. The only remedy was to avoid the blacklead altogether. When, therefore, the bucket containing a quantity in solution was next brought round, I declined to have any. "But you must," said the officer. "Well, I object," I answered, "and I certainly shall not put it on. If you like to do it yourself of course I cannot prevent you." He did not like to do it himself and disappeared, saying he would come again directly, which he forgot to do. Several days afterwards the Deputy-Governor came on a tour of inspection33. Noticing that my floor was neither black nor polished, he attempted a mild reproof34. I repeated my objection. "Well, you know," he replied, "you must keep your cell clean." "Yes," I rejoined, "and I do keep it clean for my own sake; but your blacklead is dirt." That ended the conversation, and the blacklead question was never agitated35 again, although once or twice, during my absence from the cell, the obnoxious36 stuff was put on the floor and polished up by one of the cleaners. Let me add that in the new cells the floors are all boarded, and the blacklead nuisance is there unknown.
While I was meditating37 on my luxurious12 surroundings, the warder entered again with a prisoner, who carried a bag. "Well, Mr. Foote," said the genial38 officer, "how are you getting on? I've brought you some work. It isn't hard, and you needn't task yourself; you'll find it help to pass away the time." Some of the contents of the bag were then emptied on the floor. They consisted of fibre-rope clipped into short lengths. These had to be picked abroad. The work was light, but very monotonous39. It did help to kill time, and it was less troublesome than picking oakum. Mr. Truelove tells me that they made him pick oakum in prison till his fingers were raw, and laughed at him for complaining. He was then seventy years old! Think of it, reader, and reflect on the tender mercies of the religion of charity.
During my imprisonment40 I never worked at anything but fibre-picking. Gladly would I have wheeled a barrow in the open air, but that is a privilege reserved for felons42; misdemeanants are locked up in their cells night and day. Once there was an attempt made to instruct me in the art of brush-making, but it egregiously43 failed. An officer from the D wing, where the mats and brushes are made, opened my cell door one afternoon, and shouted, "Come along!" "Where?" I asked, not liking44 his manner. "Where!" he ejaculated, "Come along." "Thank you," I said, "but you must please tell me where." He was very much annoyed by my freezing civility, which I always found the best represser of impertinence; but recognising his mistake, he changed his tone, and vouchsafed45 an explanation. "The Governor," he said, "wants you to come and see how brushes are made." "Oh, of course," I said, and marched after him.
Arriving at the D wing, I was silently introduced to a prisoner sitting on a stool, who had been brought out of his cell to give me lessons in brush-making. He worked and I watched. Presently the officer had to attend to some other business a few yards off. Directly his back was turned the prisoner eagerly whispered, "How long are ye doin'?" I told him. "I'm doin' fifteen months," he confidingly46 said. Then he added, with look half positive and half interrogative, "Time's damned long, ain't it?" I agreed. Forgetting his work, he spliced47 a bit of rope badly. "See," I said, "that splice48 is wrong." "Ah," he replied, his face brightening, "you're a salt un too, are ye? Hanged if I didn't think you was a barnacle." He informed me that he had been in the English and American navies, and all round the world. Where had I been? I was obliged to explain that I was a journalist. Quill-driving, as he called it, was evidently, in his opinion, an ignominious49 employment. However did I learn splicing50! When I explained that I was bred at the seaside, and passionately51 loved boating, his sailor's heart warmed towards me again. "This work ain't hard," he said; "you can make two brushes in an hour and a half, and I makes a dozen a week." I smiled. It was a fine illustration of what is called prison labor52. Resuming, he said: "I'm the only one as makes 'em now, and I s'pose they wants more. The chap as made 'em afore me used to do three dozen a week. Wasn't he a darned fool? Now, don't you go makin' more than two a day, or you'll put my nose out of joint53." "No," I promised, "I won't make more than two a day." "Ah," he said, looking at me with a comical twinkle of the eyes, "I see you ain't a goin' to make brushes."
At this point the warder stepped up, and invited me to try my hand. "Thank you," I replied; "the Governor told you to let me see how brushes are made, and I have seen how brushes are made." Then bowing slightly, I walked straight back to my cell, leaving the officer almost petrified54 with astonishment55. I heard no more of brush-making.
My objection to the work was simple. It was more interesting than picking fibre, but it necessitated56 stooping, the brush being held, like a shoe, between the knees. As a lecturer, I knew too well the value of a sound chest to engage in such employment.
I come now to the diet. Third-class fare, to which I was entitled by the doctor's order, was almost entirely farinaceous, and miserably57 monotonous. Breakfast and tea (or supper), served at eight and six respectively, consisted of six ounces of brown bread and three quarters of a pint58 of gruel59, or "skilly." The latter was frequently so fluid that spooning was unnecessary. The dinners, served punctually at twelve o'clock, were more varied60. Brown bread and browner potatoes were the staple61 of each mid-day meal. The bread was always excellent. The potatoes were abominable62. I have said that they were browner than the bread, and I may add that the color was not caused by cooking, but purely63 original. As the old potatoes were leaving the market, and the new ones were too expensive for prisoners, the most robust64 appetite must have turned with disgust from the supply which fell to our share. I should imagine that every swine's trough around the metropolis66 must have been plundered67 to provision Holloway Gaol68.
The variable part of the dinner was as follows. Pea-soup, to which, as I have already said, I had a physical antipathy69, was served up three days out of every seven—on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. And such pea-soup! The mixture used to rise as I swallowed it, and I have often grasped my throat to keep it down, knowing that if I did not eat, however nauseous the food, my health would necessarily suffer. It was not pea-soup before the joint, but pea-soup without it, and in that case the quality of the compound is an important matter. When I read the Book of Job afresh in my cell, I found in the sixth chapter, and seventh verse, a text which admirably suited my situation: "The things that my soul refused to touch are as my sorrowful meat." Three days a week I could have preached a better, or at least a more feeling, sermon on that text than any parson in the kingdom.
On Sundays and Wednesdays, instead of the pea-soup, I was served with six ounces of suet pudding baked in a separate tin. I never saw such pudding, and I never smelt70 such suet. Brown meal was used for the dough71, and the suet lay on the top in yellow greasy72 streaks73. I can liken the compound to nothing but a linseed poultice. The resemblance was so obvious that it struck many other prisoners. I have heard the term poultice applied74 to the suet pudding more than once in casual conversations in the exercise ground. Twice a week I was entitled to meat. On Friday, instead of the pea-soup or suet pudding, there was three ounces of Australian beef; and on Mondays three-quarters of an ounce of fat bacon with some white beans. The subtle humorist who drew up the diet scale had appended a note that "all meats were to be weighed without bone."
A good tale hangs by that bacon and beans. While I was awaiting the second trial in Newgate, and providing my own food, I studied the diet scale which hangs up in each cell, and was fascinated by this extravagant75 quantity of pork, which seemed to evidence an unimagined display of prison hospitality. One of the officers to whom I mentioned the matter said, "Ah, Mr. Foote, I wish you would show that diet up when you get out. Untried prisoners have the same fare as condemned76 criminals, only they get less of it. There are lusty chaps come in here, some of them quite innocent, who could eat twice as much, and look round for the man that cooked it. I'll tell you a story about that three-quarters of an ounce. A fellow rang his bell one day after the dinner was served. 'Well,' I said, 'what's the matter?' 'I want's my bacon,' said he. 'Well, you've got it,' said I. 'No I aint,' said he. 'It's in your tin,' said I. 'Taint77 in my tin,' said he. Then I fetched up the cook. We all three searched, and at last we found the bacon in one of the shucks of the beans."
The worthy78 fellow laughed, and so did I, as he ended his story. There might have been some exaggeration in it, but you would not find it so hard to believe if you had ever sat down to dine on three-quarters of an ounce of fat bacon.
I was confined in my cell twenty-three hours out of every twenty-four, and during the first week my one hour's exercise was mostly taken in the corridor instead of in the open air. The prison authorities are careless about a man's health being subtly undermined, but they do not like him to catch cold, which may produce visible and audible consequences. Whenever it is snowing or raining, or whenever the ground is wet, the prisoners exercise in the corridors, where the air is scarcely purer than in their cells. During the first week, the weather being bad, I only went out once. On Saturday, which was cleaning day, I had no exercise at all, and on Sunday I was entitled to none—prisoners not being allowed that privilege on the blessed Sabbath until a month of their sentence has expired. I was therefore confined to my cell without exercise or fresh air from Friday morning until Monday morning, or three clear days. The exercise out of doors is a delightful79 relief from solitary80 confinement81 in a brick vault82. The prisoners walk in Indian file in circles: a regular thieves' procession, the Rogue's March without the music. The new comers, who violate the rule of silence, are soon detected by the vigilant83 officers, but the old hands, as I have said, acquire a habit of speaking without moving the lips, and in a tone which just reaches their next neighbor. Ten days or so after I entered Holloway I overheard the following conversation behind me:—
"Who's that bloke in front o' you?" "Dunno," was the reply. "Queer lookin' bloke, aint he?"—"How long's he doin'?"—"A stretch," which in prison language means twelve months, and having served that term, I know that it is a stretch. "What's he in for?"—"Dunno, but I hear he put somethin' in a paper they didn't like."—"What, a stretch for that!"—And I venture to assert that, although the prisoner who uttered this ejaculation was on the wrong side of a gaol, his unsophisticated common sense on this point was infinitely84 superior to the bigotry85 of Giffard, Harcourt, and North, and of the jury who assisted in sending us to gaol for "putting something in a paper they didn't like."
During my first week's residence in Holloway Gaol, owing to the bad weather, I exercised in the corridor with the other inmates87 of the A wing. There is little more room between the cell doors and the railing overlooking the well than suffices for the passage of a single person. The prisoners therefore walked in Indian file, and as they were practically beyond supervision88 except when they came abreast89 of one of the three or four officers in charge, a great deal of conversation went on, and I wondered why the chief warder below did not hear the loud hum of so many voices. I afterwards discovered the reason. When you stand under the procession you can hear nothing but the trampling90 of dozens of feet, which reverberates91 through the wing, and drowns every other sound.
At first I marched as stiff as a poker92, drawing myself together, as it were, into the smallest compass, to avoid the contamination of the company, most of whom were poor, repulsive93 specimens94 of humanity, survivals in our civilised age of the lower types of barbarous or savage95 times. Most of them were young and had a reckless bearing, but a few were middle-aged96, and some were obviously old hands who "knew the ropes," were reconciled to their fate, and resolved on making the best of the situation. Tramp, tramp, tramp! My very life seemed reduced to this monotonous shuffle97. I half fancied myself in a new kind of hell, ranked in an everlasting98 procession of aimless feet, mechanically following a convict's coat in front of me, and as mechanically followed by the wearer of a similar coat behind. But as I passed the great window at the end of the wing the blessed light of the silvery winter sun sometimes streamed through the dense99 glass upon my face, rays of the eternal splendor100 coming so many millions of miles from the great fire-fount, how indifferent, as Perdita saw, to the artificial distinctions of men! I felt refreshed, but the feeling wore off as I returned to the gloomy corridor, skirting cells on the right, and on the left a low rail that offered the suicide a tempting101 leap into the arms of Death. All this time I was living an intense inward life, but I suppose there was a far-away look in my eyes, for now and then a prisoner would say "Cheer up, sir." I smiled at this consolatory102 effort, for although I was disgusted, I was not despondent103. Occasionally an attempt was made to drag me into conversation, but I parried all advances with as little offence as possible. One dirty short man, grievously afflicted104 with scurvy105, or something worse, several times manoeuvred to get behind me, and at last he succeeded. "How long ye doin', mate?" No answer. "I say, mate, how long ye doin'?" No answer. "A damned long time, I know, or they wouldn' give ye a —— new suit like that, ye stuck-up ———."
What oaths I heard in that wretched gaol! No abomination of human speech is unknown to me. One particularly vile41 expletive was fashionable during my imprisonment; it seasoned every phrase, and preceded every adjective. Its constant iteration was sickening, until long experience made me callous106. How thankful I should be to Judge North for trying to purify me in that mud-bath of rascality107. I can never forget the debt of gratitude—and I never will!
Among the prisoners I noticed one of robust physique and martial108 bearing. Seldom had I seen so fine a figure. Within six months I saw that man reduced almost to a skeleton by solitary confinement, wearily trailing one limb after the other, and looking out despairingly from cavernous, moribund109 eyes. Well did Lord Fitzgerald (I think) in a recent speech in the House of Lords describe this torture as the worst ever devised by the brain of man. His lordship added that the Governor of a great prison told him that he never knew a man undergo twelve months of such punishment without severe suffering, or two years of it without being terribly shaken, or three years without being physically110 and mentally wrecked111. In the penal112 servitude establishments the discipline has to be relaxed, or the prisoners would die or go mad before their terms expired. They work out of their cells in the daytime, and on certain occasions (Sundays, I believe) they are allowed to walk in couples and exercise their faculty113 of speech.
The poor fellow I refer to, fearing that he would die, and having learnt that I was a public man, managed to tell me something of his case. He had been a warder in Coldbath Fields Prison, where he officiated as master-tailor. In an evil moment he "cabbaged" some cloth, was detected, tried, condemned, and sentenced to twenty months' imprisonment. He had been in the army for over twenty years without a scratch of the pen against his name, and his officers had given him excellent characters; but the judge would hear of nothing in mitigation of sentence, although he knew it deprived the man of a pension of thirty-six pounds a year, which he had earned by long service in India, where the enemy's blades had drunk deeply of his blood. His wife and children had gone to a work-house in Leicestershire, and as they had no money for travelling, he had never received a visit. He pined away in his miserable114 cell until he became a pitiable spectacle which excited the compassion115 of the whole prison. The doctor ordered him out of his cell, but the authorities would not allow it. He told me how much he had lost round the chest and calf116, but I have forgotten the precise figures. One fact, however, I recollect117 distinctly; he had lost eight inches round the thigh118, and his flesh was like a child's. Eventually the doctor peremptorily119 ordered him into the hospital, and the Prison Commissioners120 and Visiting Magistrates121 were reluctantly obliged to let him save the man's life.
Dreary122 indeed was the life in my prison cell, sitting on the three-legged stool picking fibre, or walking up and down the twelve-foot floor. I used frequently to stand under the window for long intervals123, resting my hand on the sloping sill. It was impossible to see through the heavy-fluted panes, but outside was light, liberty and life. Sometimes, especially on Saturdays, when I had been accustomed to run down to the North, the Midlands or the West, to fulfil a lecturing engagement, the muffled124 shriek125 of a distant railway whistle went through me like the clash of steel.
My library, during the first three months, consisted of a Bible, a Prayer Book and a Hymn126 Book. Although I was really there for knowing too much about the "blessed book" already, I read it right through in the first month, and again in the second, besides reading it discursively127 afterwards. And still, I am a sincerely impenitent128 Freethinker! You may knock a man down with the Bible, and make an impression on his skull129; but when he picks himself up again, you find you have made no impression on his mind, except that his opinion of you is altered. I remember the chaplain calling to see me one day as I was just concluding my inspection of what Heine calls the menagerie of the Apocalypse. He could not help seeing the Bible, for when it lay open there was very little table visible. "Ah," he said, "I see you have been reading the holy Scripture130." "Yes," I replied, "I've read it through this month, and I believe I'm the only man in the place who has done it—including the chaplain."
By and by the schoolmaster hunted me out a French Bible, the only one in the prison. It was an old one, and contained some scratches by a Gallic prisoner, who had been twice immured131 for smuggling132 (pour contrabandier), and who pathetically called on God to help him. Cette vie est vie amere, he had written. Yes, my poor French friend, it was bitter indeed! As for the hymn book, it contained two or three good pieces, like Newman's "Lead, Kindly133 Light," but for the rest it was the scraggiest collection I ever met with—evangelical and wooden, with an occasional dash of weak music and washy sentiment.
The monotony of my existence was not even broken by visits to chapel. After the first day's attendance at "divine worship" for some reason I was not let out at the hour of devotion. After a few days, however, one of the principal officers said to me "Wouldn't you like to go to chapel, Mr. Foote. There's nothing irksome in it, and you'll find it breaks the monotony." "With pleasure," I replied, "but I have not till now received an invitation." "What!" he exclaimed. Then, calling up a young Irish officer in my wing, he asked "How is this? Why hasn't Mr. Foote been invited to chapel?" "Well, sir," answered the culprit, scratching his head and looking sheepish, "I knew Mr. Foote was a Freethinker, and I didn't want to insult his opinions." Good! I thought. Why was not this worthy fellow on the jury, or better still, on the bench? I told him I was very much obliged for his intended kindness, but at the same time I preferred going to chapel, as I wished to see all I could for my money. After that I went to the house of prayer like any church-going belle (this is what Cowper must have meant, for how could a bell go to church?) every Sunday, and every other day during the week. Had the chapel been of larger dimensions I should have gone daily, but it was too small to hold all the prisoners, who were therefore divided into two congregations, each approaching the, holy altar on alternate days. What I saw and heard in the sacred edifice134 will be related in a separate chapter.
At the end of my second month I was entitled to a school-book and a slate135 and pencil. These articles were promptly136 brought to me by the obliging school-master. Two copies of Colenso's Arithmetic had been procured137; one was given to me, and the other, as I afterwards learned, to Mr. Ramsey. The fly-leaf was cut out, I noticed; the object being to prevent us from obtaining a bit of paper to write on. This, I may add, is the general rule in the prison library, every book being thus mutilated. It is a silly precaution, for if a prisoner can succeed in carrying on a correspondence with his friends outside, he is obviously not dependent on the library for materials, and he would be the veriest fool to excite suspicion by amputating the leaves of a book.
Knowing that I should have no better school-book during my long imprisonment, I determined138 to make Colenso last as long as possible. I steadily139 went through it from beginning to end. Working the addition and subtraction140 sums was certainly tedious, but I wanted to keep the interesting problems, as you reserve the daintier portions of a repast, till the end. Curiously141 enough, it was the sober and serious Colenso who gave me my one restless night in Holloway Gaol. I puzzled over one pretty problem, and the bed-bell rang before I could solve it. Directly my gas was turned out the method of solution flashed on my mind, and I was so vexed143 at being unable to work it out immediately that it was hours before I could fall asleep. During that time my brain made desperate but futile144 efforts to reach the answer by mental arithmetic, and when I woke in the morning I felt thoroughly145 fagged.
Having had no writing materials for two months the slate and pencil looked very inviting146. I composed a few pieces of verse, including a sonnet147 on Giordano Bruno and some epigrams on Parson Plaford, Judge North, Sir Hardinge Giffard, and other distasteful personages. But as every piece written on the slate had to be rubbed out to make room for the next, I soon sickened of composition. It was murdering one bantling to make place for another.
Sometimes the dulness of my incarceration148 was relieved by overhearing whispered conversations outside my cell door. Until we became well known, there was considerable speculation149 among the prisoners as to who we were, and what we were there for. One day a couple of fellows, engaged in cleaning the corridor, worked themselves near together, one standing150 on either side of my door. "Who's the bloke in yer?" I heard queried151. "Dunno," said the other, "I b'lieve he's a Fenian." Another time I heard the answer, "Oh, he's one of Bradlaugh's pals152; and Bradlaugh's coming up next week"—a next week which happily never arrived.
Mr. Ramsey tells me that similar speculations153 went on outside his door. Like mine, his card specified154 "misdr." (misdemeanor) as the offence, the officials perhaps not liking to write blasphemy155. Like me also, he was put down as a Fenian. "Why there," said a prisoner, who had just enounced this opinion, "look at his card; see—murder!" The "misdr." was not written too plainly, and "murder" was his interpretation156 of the hieroglyph157.
Let me here interpolate another good story in connexion with Mr. Ramsey. He was confidently asked by an old hand what he was in for. "Blasphemy," said Mr. Ramsey. "Blasphemy! What the hell's that?" said the fellow. Here was a confirmed criminal who had never heard of this crime before; it was not in the catalogue known to his fraternity; and on learning that all which could be got from it was nine months' imprisonment if you were found out, and nothing if you were not, he concluded that he would never patronize that line of business.
From the description already given of my cell, the reader has seen that my domestic accommodations were exceedingly limited. All my ablutions were performed with the aid of a tin bowl, holding about a quart. This sufficed for hands and face, but how was I to get a wash all over? I broached158 this question one day to warder Smith, who informed me that the bathing appliances of the establishment were scanty159, and that the prisoners were only "tubbed" once a fortnight. I explained to him that I was not used to such uncleanliness; but of course he could not help me. Then I laid the matter before the Deputy-Governor, who told an officer to take me to the bath-room at the base of the debtor's wing, where I enjoyed a good scrub. On returning to the criminal part of the prison I had my hair cut, a prisoner officiating as barber. Despite the rule of silence, I gave him verbal instructions how to proceed, otherwise he would have given me the regular prison crop. During the rest of my term I always had my hair trimmed in my own fashion. The prison crop, I may observe, is rather a custom than a rule; the regulations require only such hair-cutting and shaving as is necessary for health and cleanliness, but the criminal population affect short hair, and the difficulty is not to bring them under, but to keep them out of, the barber's hands.
Prison barbers are generally amateurs. Of course the officers are above such work, and unless a member of the tonsorial profession happens to be in residence, the scissors are wielded160 by the first man who fancies himself a natural adept161 at the business. The last barber I saw in Holloway Gaol was a coachman, whose only qualification for the work was that he had clipped horses' legs. He wore a blue apron162 round a corpulent waist, and looked remarkably163 like a pork-butcher. He walked round the victim like an artist engaged on a bust65, and his habit was to work steadily away at one spot until the skin showed like a piece of white plaster, after which he labored164 at another spot, and so on, until the task was finished. Seeing on my head an uncommon165 mass of hair, he made many desperate solicitations to be allowed an opportunity of displaying his skill, but I steadily resisted the appeal, although it evidently cut him to the quick.
The bathing-house for the criminal prisoners has eight compartments166. In the ordinary course, I should have formed one of a detachment of that number, but an exception was made in my case, and I was always taken to bathe alone. Behind the bath-room were the dark cells. I was allowed to inspect these miserable, black holes. They were damp and fetid, and when the door was closed you were in Egyptian darkness. I cannot conceive that such horrid167 punishment is necessary or justifiable168. The prison authorities have every inmate86 absolutely in their power, and if they are obliged to resort to the black-hole, it must be from want of foresight169 or the general imbecility of the system.
The flogging was always done outside the black-hole, in the bath-room at the foot of the D wing. I have often heard screaming wretches170 dragged along the corridor, and their cries of agony as their backs were lacerated by the cat. Singularly, the dinner hour was always selected for this performance, which must have been a great stimulus171 to the appetites of new comers. One man who was lashed142 told me it was weeks before his flesh healed. I do not believe that the cat and the dark hole are necessary to prison discipline. They brutalise and degrade both prisoners and officials.
The doctor was astonished one morning by my application for a tooth-brush. Such a thing was never seen or heard of in a prison. I was obliged therefore to use my middle finger, which I found a very inefficient172 substitute. Another difficulty arose on the shirt question. The prisoners are allowed a clean outer shirt every week, and a clean inner shirt every fortnight. I explained that I would prefer the order reversed, but was told that I could not be accommodated. But I persisted. I wearied the upper officials with applications, and finally obtained a clean kit173 weekly. Even then I found it necessary to badger174 them still further. The fortnightly intervals between the baths were too long, and at last I got the Governor to let me have a tub of cold water in my cell every night. This luxury of cleanliness was the best feature in the programme, although my fellow-prisoners appeared to regard it as an unaccountable fad175.
One or two brief conversations with the Governor were also an agreeable variation. I found him to be a disciple176 and friend of the late F. D. Maurice, one of whose books he offered to lend me. He was astonished to find that I had read it, as well as other works by the same author, which he had not read. Colonel Milman expressed a good deal of admiration177 for Mr. George Jacob Holyoake, and he was still more astonished when I told him that this gentleman had occupied a blasphemer's cell in the old stirring days, when he fiercely attacked Christianity instead of flattering it. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," said the gallant179 Governor, "than to hear from you some day as a believer." "Sir," I replied, "I would not have you entertain any such hope, for it will never be realised. My Freethought is not a hobby, but a conviction. You must remember that I have been a Christian178, that I know all that can be said in defence of your creed180, and that I am well acquainted with all your best writers. I am a Freethinker in spite of this; I might say because of it. And can you suppose that my imprisonment will induce me to regard Christianity with a more friendly eye? On the contrary, it confirms my belief that your creed, to which you are personally so superior, is a curse, and carries the spirit of persecution181 in its heart of hearts."
Colonel Milman smiled sadly. He began to see that the sceptical disease in me was beyond the reach of physic.
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fixed
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plank
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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4
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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5
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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6
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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7
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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8
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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9
conducive
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| adj.有益的，有助的 | |
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10
digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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11
luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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12
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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13
scantier
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| adj.（大小或数量）不足的，勉强够的( scanty的比较级 ) | |
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14
inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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15
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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16
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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17
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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18
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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19
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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20
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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21
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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22
fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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23
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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24
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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25
draught
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|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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26
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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27
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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28
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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29
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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30
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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31
extrinsic
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| adj.外部的；不紧要的 | |
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32
inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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34
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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35
agitated
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|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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36
obnoxious
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|
| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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37
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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38
genial
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|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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39
monotonous
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|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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40
imprisonment
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|
| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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41
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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42
felons
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|
| n.重罪犯( felon的名词复数 )；瘭疽；甲沟炎；指头脓炎 | |
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43
egregiously
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| adv.过份地，卓越地 | |
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44
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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45
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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46
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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47
spliced
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|
| adj.（针织品）加固的n.叠接v.绞接( splice的过去式和过去分词 )；捻接（两段绳子）；胶接；粘接（胶片、磁带等） | |
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48
splice
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|
| v.接合，衔接；n.胶接处，粘接处 | |
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49
ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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50
splicing
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|
| n.编接（绳）；插接；捻接；叠接v.绞接( splice的现在分词 )；捻接（两段绳子）；胶接；粘接（胶片、磁带等） | |
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51
passionately
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|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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52
labor
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|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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53
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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54
petrified
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|
| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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55
astonishment
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|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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56
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
miserably
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|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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58
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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59
gruel
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|
| n.稀饭，粥 | |
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60
varied
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|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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61
staple
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|
| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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62
abominable
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|
| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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63
purely
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|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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64
robust
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|
| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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65
bust
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|
| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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66
metropolis
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|
| n.首府；大城市 | |
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67
plundered
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|
| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
gaol
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|
| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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69
antipathy
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|
| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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70
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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71
dough
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|
| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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72
greasy
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|
| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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73
streaks
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|
| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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74
applied
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|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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75
extravagant
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|
| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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76
condemned
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|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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77
taint
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|
| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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78
worthy
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|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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79
delightful
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|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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80
solitary
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|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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81
confinement
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|
| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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82
vault
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|
| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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83
vigilant
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|
| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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84
infinitely
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|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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85
bigotry
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|
| n.偏见，偏执，持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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86
inmate
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|
| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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87
inmates
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|
| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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88
supervision
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|
| n.监督，管理 | |
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89
abreast
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|
| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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90
trampling
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|
| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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91
reverberates
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|
| 回响，回荡( reverberate的第三人称单数 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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92
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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93
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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94
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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95
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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96
middle-aged
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|
| adj.中年的 | |
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97
shuffle
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|
| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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98
everlasting
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|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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99
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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100
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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101
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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102
consolatory
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| adj.慰问的，可藉慰的 | |
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103
despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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104
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
scurvy
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| adj.下流的，卑鄙的，无礼的；n.坏血病 | |
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106
callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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107
rascality
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| 流氓性，流氓集团 | |
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108
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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109
moribund
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| adj.即将结束的，垂死的 | |
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110
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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111
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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112
penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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113
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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114
miserable
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|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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115
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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116
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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117
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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118
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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119
peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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120
commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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121
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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122
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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123
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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124
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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125
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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126
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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127
discursively
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| adv.东拉西扯地，推论地 | |
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128
impenitent
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| adj.不悔悟的，顽固的 | |
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129
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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130
scripture
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|
| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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131
immured
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| v.禁闭，监禁( immure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
smuggling
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| n.走私 | |
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133
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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137
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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138
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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139
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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140
subtraction
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| n.减法，减去 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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143
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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144
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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145
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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146
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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147
sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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incarceration
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| n.监禁，禁闭；钳闭 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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153
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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154
specified
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| adj.特定的 | |
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blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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157
hieroglyph
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| n.象形文字， 图画文字 | |
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158
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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169
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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170
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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inefficient
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| adj.效率低的，无效的 | |
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173
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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174
badger
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| v.一再烦扰，一再要求，纠缠 | |
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175
fad
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| n.时尚；一时流行的狂热；一时的爱好 | |
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176
disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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177
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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178
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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179
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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180
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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181
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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