Part 12 (1/2)

'When I saw friends it was but for a few minutes, and then through the bars of a gate; to shake hands was a privilege, and to converse unheard, impossible. To me it was a momentary satisfaction made an enduring mortification. To the public it may seem a light matter that nothing can be spoken to a visitor unheard by officers, but it is no light matter to a prisoner. The commissioners inquired--”Can you make no communication to your friends without its pa.s.sing under the eyes of the governor, or through the ears of the turnkey?” I answered--”None; and that it was not prudent for a prisoner to mention openly what affected persons in whose power he was put--that no prisoner must calculate on gaolers being generous, for they owned few virtues not written in their rules.” I spoke from experience, and gave them cases in point.*

'During the latter portion of my time all my friends were denied access to me, which, though it interfered with the supply of my wants, I did not, for the reasons stated, much regret. But this I did regret--all my letters were detained, and I was refused the privilege of writing a single letter to my family. The reason a.s.signed by the governor for this was the enforcement of new rules, but I know that they were enforced without proper authority, and I believe applied only to me.***

'Those are happy who are for ever preserved from the reception cells of Gloucester Gaol. Of the one in which I was put, the floor was filthy, the bed was filthier, and the window was filthier still, for in the window was--what I sicken at while I write--a rag full of human excrement. And of the bed, a prisoner a.s.sured me that when he lay in it the lice crept up his throat off the corners of the blanket which covered him. This statement, on my direction, he made to the commissioners.

* One case I allude to was this. Mr. Bransby Cooper and Mr.

Jones had called me out to state that an application I had made for better dietary would not be acceded to. Mr. Cooper said the surgeon did not prescribe any other diet. I said, 'It appears to me, sir, that the surgeon dare not prescribe any other diet, unless he was first a.s.sured you would approve of it.' The answer of Mr. Cooper was loud, harsh, brief, and decisive. 'Of course, sir, he dare not.' Thus the fierce candour of this man broke through the web-work of cautiousness which surrounded prisoners there, and spoke the truth for once.

** I have since been told that Mr. Alcott, of America, was among the number, who, being a visitor in England, had but one opportunity of calling upon me.

***On one occasion Richard Carlile brought me a present of a handsome pair of large razors, which were sent back lest I should cut my throat with them. The rules of the gaol forbid the entrance of such articles, but this reason for their rejection was not in the rules, but added as suitable to my case.

'The gaol chapel is a cold place. Often, on entering it, I have exclaimed, with Jugurtha, on entering his Roman dungeon--”Heavens! how cold is this bath of yours!” Yet in this place, during this inclement season, the prisoners are a.s.sembled every morning to hear prayers, on empty stomachs, after sixteen hours' confinement in their night cells. On the ”long prayer” mornings, they are detained in chapel three-quarters of an hour, and the penitentiary men, on their return to their cells, find their gruel on the stone floor, gone cold in their absence. I mention this matter with reluctance, as some may suppose that I notice it only from want of religion; but perhaps a little reflection will convince them that believers, as well as unbelievers, can appreciate a warm breakfast on a cold morning!--and that an asthmatical man, however sound his faith, will have his affection painfully increased by enervation, inanition, and sudden cold. This practice I do not say is contrary to the rules, for it would be difficult to say what is, or what is not, contrary to them--and I never met with any one at the gaol who could tell. But the practice is contrary to the act of the 4th of Geo. IV., chap. 64, see. 30, which is professed to regulate it.

'A circ.u.mstance' of a different nature from any of the foregoing I think it my duty to notice. After a considerable portion of my term of imprisonment had elapsed, and after I had memorialised Sir James Graham, I was permitted to remain up in an evening with my books. To this I owe what of pleasure I can be said to have experienced in gaol, and with pleasure I acknowledge it.*

* Before this privilege was conceded I whiled away the long nights by writing on the cover of a book, on which I had adjusted threads at equal intervals; under these threads I slipped paper, and thus wrote on the lines made by the threads, which kept in the dark the words from running into each other. When a boy I learned to write with my eyes shut, and my playful acquirement now became of service to me. In this way I wrote some letters for the _Oracle,_ and much of my correspondence. Scattered by force, our little party at that time, and for some years after, had to be kept together oy letters, and, incredible as it will sound, I wrote during my imprisonment from first to last nearly 2000 letters. The governor did not see them all, but he saw so many, that one day he said I sent out more letters than usually went through a local post office.

'I prefer leaving these statements without comment, and content myself with saying, that I can abundantly substantiate every one of them. On Sat.u.r.day last they were partly examined at the gaol by the magistrates, but I heard nothing that impugned their correctness or affected the propriety of their appearing before the public. If I have made any misrepresentations, I shall be sorry; and what is proved to be wrong I will cheerfully retract. I have written from no malevolence, for I feel none, and, as what I have related affects me no longer, my only motive is the hope of benefiting the unfortunate beings whom I have left behind me. My object is not, as some may suspect, to excite commiseration on my own part; to do this I have no wish, and no expectation, for in Cheltenham it seems to be a received maxim, that they who have little faith have no feelings--certainly, none are respected.

'How my imprisonment is supposed to affect me toward religion, I cannot tell; I only know that I have no change of sentiment to own. During six months I have been ”shut out from the common light and common air”--from those whom the bonds of friends.h.i.+p connected, and the ties of affection endeared; and some of these ties are broken for ever. After this, I can only say, that I have greater difficulty than ever in believing that humanity is the a.s.sociate of piety; and if Christianity has no expounders more attractive than those I have fallen in with, the day of my conversion is still distant.

'It was taught to me that the religion of Jesus cherished kindness, that it promoted our best affections, and reclaimed the erring in love. But how is this accomplished in gaol? The man who goes there must leave his affections, his feelings, and his sensibilities behind him--for in gaol all are blighted, deadened, and destroyed. There no appeals are made but to coward fears, and no antidote applied to error but misery. Indeed, I cannot dwell upon Christianity's treatment of what she considers my errors, without wis.h.i.+ng, with Themistocles, that I could learn the art of forgetting. With regard to the cause of my prosecution, I admit that I might be wrong in the sentiments which I held, but I could not be wrong in frankly avowing them. And I may answer to Christians, as did Aristides to the tyrant Dionysius--”I am sorry for what you have done, but I am not sorry for what I have said.” Despite all that has succeeded, I still prefer integrity to liberty. My resolution has long been taken, to speak nothing or to speak what I think--for

Who dares think one thing and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of h.e.l.l.

'Christians speak what they think useful, and the same privilege ought to be conceded to me. A difference in faith ought not to make a difference in right. But while it does so, those who cannot p.r.o.nounce the required s.h.i.+bboleth must arm themselves to bear. Those are poor principles for which a man is unwilling to suffer when they are in danger. It is an encouraging reflection, that though a man's fate may be at others' disposal, his character is ever at his own--and that no enemy can dishonour him who will not dishonour himself.

'Yours respectfully,

'Gloucester, Feb. 7, 1843.

'G. J. Holyoake.'

The Commissioners referred to in this letter asked me, when I was first taken before them, whether I had any complaint to make?

I said I had.

Did I wish to give it as evidence?

I said I did.

In the evening of the next day, between 9 and 10 o'clock, I was called up and taken into their presence again. The governor of the gaol, Captain Mason, and the surgeon, Mr. Hicks, were present.

'Take a seat, Mr. Holyoake,' said the speaker of the Board--Dr. Blissett Hawkins, I believe. I did so.

'Now, Mr. Holyoake, what have you to complain of?' said the speaking Commissioner.

'Nothing, sir.'

'Nothing! Why what do you mean?'