Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 -- Knowledge -- Prisons; Prisons; Prisons -- England -- London; Prisons in literature
"As it came on very dark, he began to think of all the men he had
known who had died upon the scaffold; some of them through his means.
They rose up, in such quick succession, that he could hardly count
them. He had seen some of them die--and had joked, too, because they
died with prayers upon their lips. With what a rattling noise the drop
went down; and how suddenly they changed from strong and vigorous men
to dangling heaps of clothes.
"Some of them might have inhabited that very cell--sat upon that very
spot. It was very dark; why didn't they bring a light? The cell had
been built for many years. Scores of men must have passed their last
hours there. It was like sitting in a vault strewn with dead
bodies--the cap, the noose, the pinioned arms, the faces that he knew,
even beneath that hideous veil. Light--Light.
"At length, when his hands were raw with beating against the heavy
door and walls, two men appeared: one bearing a candle, which he
thrust into an iron candle-stick fixed against the wall; the other
dragging a mattress on which to pass the night; for the prisoner was
to be left alone no more.
"Then came night--dark, dismal, silent night. Other watchers are glad
to hear the clocks strike, for they tell of life and coming day. To
the Jew they brought despair. The boom of every iron bell came laden
with one deep, hollow sound--Death. What availed the noise and bustle
of cheerful morning, which penetrated even there, to him? It was
another form of knell, with mockery added to its warning.
"The day passed off--day. There was no day; it was gone as soon as
come--and night came on again; night so long, and yet so short, long
in its dreadful silence, and short in its fleeting hours. At one time
he raved and blasphemed; and at another howled and tore his hair.
Venerable men of his own persuasion had come to pray beside him, but
he had driven them away with curses. They renewed their charitable
efforts, and he beat them off.
"Saturday night. He had only one more night to live, and as he thought
of this, the day broke--Sunday.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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