The History of Samuel Titmarsh and the Great Hoggarty DiamondThackeray, William Makepeace
General
The History of Samuel Titmarsh and the Great Hoggarty Diamond
Thackeray, William Makepeace
English fiction -- 19th century; Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
That period of my life, and that horrible prison, seem to me like
recollections of some fever. What an awful place!--not for the sadness,
strangely enough, as I thought, but for the gaiety of it; for the long
prison galleries were, I remember, full of life and a sort of grave
bustle. All day and all night doors were clapping to and fro; and you
heard loud voices, oaths, footsteps, and laughter. Next door to our room
was one where a man sold gin, under the name of _tape_; and here, from
morning till night, the people kept up a horrible revelry;--and sang--sad
songs some of them: but my dear little girl was, thank God! unable to
understand the most part of their ribaldry. She never used to go out
till nightfall; and all day she sat working at a little store of caps and
dresses for the expected stranger--and not, she says to this day,
unhappy. But the confinement sickened her, who had been used to happy
country air, and she grew daily paler and paler.
The Fives Court was opposite our window; and here I used, very
unwillingly at first, but afterwards, I do confess, with much eagerness,
to take a couple of hours' daily sport. Ah! it was a strange place.
There was an aristocracy there as elsewhere,--amongst other gents, a son
of my Lord Deuce-ace; and many of the men in the prison were as eager to
walk with him, and talked of his family as knowingly, as if they were
Bond Street bucks. Poor Tidd, especially, was one of these. Of all his
fortune he had nothing left but a dressing-case and a flowered dressing-
gown; and to these possessions he added a fine pair of moustaches, with
which the poor creature strutted about; and though cursing his ill
fortune, was, I do believe, as happy whenever his friends brought him a
guinea, as he had been during his brief career as a gentleman on town. I
have seen sauntering dandies in watering-places ogling the women,
watching eagerly for steamboats and stage-coaches as if their lives
depended upon them, and strutting all day in jackets up and down the
public walks. Well, there are such fellows in prison: quite as dandified
and foolish, only a little more shabby--dandies with dirty beards and
holes at their elbows.
I did not go near what is called the poor side of the prison--I _dared_
not, that was the fact. But our little stock of money was running low;
and my heart sickened to think what might be my dear wife's fate, and on
what sort of a couch our child might be born. But Heaven spared me that
pang,--Heaven, and my dear good friend, Gus Hoskins.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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