CHAPTER XVII.
A TASTE OF AUSTRIAN JAILS.
At the "Fete de Dieu," in Vienna (the _Frohnleichnamsfest_), religious rites are not confined to the places of worship-the whole city becomes a church. Altars rise in every street, and high mass is performed in the open air, amid clouds of incense and showers of holy water. The Emperor himself and his family swell the procession.
I had taken a cheering glass of Kronewetter with the worthy landlord of my lodgings, and sauntered forth to observe the day's proceedings. I crossed the Platz of St. Ulrick, and thence proceeded to the high street of Mariahilf-an important suburb of Vienna. I passed two stately altars on my way, and duly raised my hat, in obedience to the custom of the country. A little crowd was collected round the parish church of Mariahilf; and, anticipating that a procession would pass, I took my stand among the rest of the expectant populace. A few assistant police, in light blue-grey uniforms with green facings, kept the road.
A bustle about the church-door, and a band of priests, attendants, and-what pleased me most-a troop of pretty little girls came, two and two, down the steps, and into the road. I remember nothing of the procession but those beautiful and innocent children, adorned with wreaths and ribbons for the occasion. I was thinking of the rosy faces I had left at home, when my reflections were interrupted by a peremptory voice, exclaiming, "Take off your hat!" I should have obeyed with alacrity at any other moment; but there was something in the manner and tone of the "Polizeidiener's" address which touched my pride, and made me obstinate. I drew back a little. The order was repeated; the crowd murmured. I half turned to go; but, the next moment, my hat was struck off my head by the police-assistant.
What followed was mere confusion. I struck the "Polizeidiener;" and, in return, received several blows on the head from behind with a heavy stick. In less than ten minutes I was lodged in the police-office of the district; my hat broken and my clothes bespattered with the blood which had dropped, and was still dropping, from the wounds in my head.
I had full time to reflect upon the obstinate folly which had produced this result; nor were my reflections enlivened by the manners of the police-agents attached to the office. They threatened me with heavy pains and punishments; and the Polizeidiener whom I had struck, assured me, while stanching his still-bleeding nose, that I should have at least "three months for this."
After several hours' waiting in the dreary office, I was abruptly called into the commissioner's room. The commissioner was seated at a table with writing materials before him, and commenced immediately, in a sharp offensive tone, a species of examination. After my name and country had been demanded, he asked:
"Of what religion are you?"
"I am a Protestant."
"So! Leave the room."
I had made no complaint of my bruises, because I did not think this the proper place to do so; although the man who dealt them was present. He had assisted, stick in hand, in taking me to the police-office. He was in earnest conversation with the Polizeidiener, but soon left the office.
From that instant I never saw him again; nor, in spite of repeated demands, could I ever obtain redress for, or even recognition of, the violence I had suffered.
Another weary hour, and I was consigned to the care of a police-soldier; who, armed with sabre and stick, conducted me through the crowded city to prison. It was then two o'clock.
The prison, situated in the Spengler Gasse, is called the "Polizei-Haupt-Direction." We descended a narrow gut, which had no outlet, except through the prison gates. They were slowly opened at the summons of my conductor. I was beckoned into a long gloomy apartment, lighted from one side only, and having a long counter running down its centre; chains and handcuffs hung upon the walls.
An official was standing behind the counter. He asked me abruptly:
"Whence come you?"
"From England," I answered.
"Where's that?"
"In Great Britain; close to France."
The questioner behind the counter cast an inquiring look at my escort:-
"Is it so?" he asked.
The subordinate answered him in a pleasant way, that I had spoken the truth. Happily an Englishman, it seems, is a rarity within those prison walls.
I was passed into an adjoining room, which reminded me of the back parlour of a Holywell Street clothes shop, only that it was rather lighter. Its sides consisted entirely of sets of great pigeon-holes, each occupied by the habiliments or effects of some prisoner.
"Have you any valuables?"
"Few enough." My purse, watch, and pin were rendered up, ticketed, and, deposited in one of the compartments. I was then beckoned into a long paved passage or corridor down some twenty stone steps, into the densest gloom. Presently I discerned before me a massive door studded with bosses, and crossed with bars and bolts. A police-soldier, armed with a drawn sabre, guarded the entrance to Punishment Room No. 1. The bolts gave way; and, in a few moments, I was a prisoner within.
Punishment Room No. 1, is a chamber some fifteen paces long by six broad, with a tolerably high ceiling and whitened walls. It has but two windows, and they are placed at each end of one side of the chamber.
They are of good height, and look out upon an inclosed gravelled space, variegated with a few patches of verdure. The room is tolerably light.
On each side are shelves, as in barracks, for sleeping. In one corner, by the window, is a stone sink; in another, a good supply of water.
Such is the prison; but the prisoners! There were forty-eight-grey-haired men and puny boys-all ragged, and stalking with slippered feet from end to end with listless eyes. Some, all eagerness; some, crushed and motionless; some, scared and stupid; now singing, now swearing, now rushing about playing at some mad game; now hushed or whispering, as the loud voice of the Vater (or father of the ward) is heard above the uproar, calling out "Ruhe!" ("Order!")
On my entrance I was instantly surrounded by a dozen of the younger jail-birds, amid a shout of "Ein Zuwachs! Ein Zuwachs!" which I was not long in understanding to be the name given to the last comer. "Was haben sie?" (What have you done?) was the next eager cry. "Struck a Polizeidiener!" "Ei! das ist gut!" was the hearty exclamation; and I was a favourite immediately. One dirty villanous-looking fellow, with but one eye, and very little light in that, took to handling my clothes; then inquired if I had any money "up above?" Upon my answering in the affirmative my popularity immediately increased. They soon made me understand that I could "draw" upon the pigeon-hole bank to indulge in any such luxuries as beer or tobacco.
People breakfast early in Vienna; and, as I had tasted nothing since that meal, I was very hungry; but I was not to starve; for soon we heard the groaning of bolts and locks, and the police-soldier who guarded the door appeared, bearing in his hand a red earthen pot, surmounted by a round flat loaf of bread "for the Englishman." I took my portion with thanks, and found that the pipkin contained a thick porridge made of lentils, prepared with meal and fat; in the midst of which was a piece of fresh boiled beef. The cake was of a darkish colour; but good wholesome bread.
Altogether, the meal was not unsavoury. Many a greedy eye watched me as I sat on the end of the hard couch, eating my dinner. One wretched man seeing that I did not eat all, whispered a proposal to barter his dirty neckerchief-which he took off in my presence-for half of my loaf. I satisfied his desires, but declined the recompense. My half-emptied pipkin was thankfully taken by another man, under the pretence of "cleaning it."
One of my fellow-prisoners approached me.
"It is getting late," said he; "do you know what you have got to do?"
"No."
"You are the Zuwachs (latest accession), and it is your business to empty and clean out the 'Kiefel'" (the sink, etc.)
"The devil!"
"But I dare say," he added, carelessly, "if you pay the Vater a 'mass-bier,'" (something less than a quart of beer), "he will make some of the boys do it for you."
"With all my heart."
"Have you a rug?"
"No."
"You must ask the Corporal, at seven o'clock; but I dare say the Vater will find you one-for a 'mass-bier'-if you ask him."
I saw that a mass-bier would do a great deal in an Austrian prison.
The Vater, who was a prisoner like the rest, was appealed to. He was a tall, burly-looking young man, with a frank countenance. He had quitted his honest calling of butcher, and had taken to smuggling tobacco into the city. This is a heavy crime; for the growth, manufacture, and sale of tobacco is a strict Imperial monopoly. Accordingly, his punishment had been proportionately severe-two years' imprisonment. The sentence was now approaching completion; and, on account of good conduct, he had received the appointment of Vater to Punishment Room No. 1. The benefits were enumerated to me with open eyes by one of the prisoners-"Double rations, two rugs, and a mass-bier a day!"
The result of my application to the Vater was the instant calling out of several young lads, who crouched all day in the darkest end of the room-a condemned corner, abounding in vermin; and I heard no more of the sink and so forth. The next day a newcomer occupied my position.
At about seven o'clock the bolts were again withdrawn, the ponderous door opened, and the Corporal-who seemed to fill the office of ward-inspector-marched into the chamber. He was provided with a small note-book and a pencil, and made a general inquiry into the wants and complaints of the prisoners. Several of them asked for little indulgences. All these were duly noted down to be complied with the next day-always supposing that the prisoner possessed a small capital "up above." I stepped forward, and humbly made my request for a rug. "You!"
exclaimed the Corporal, eyeing me sharply. "Oh! you are the Englishman?-No!"
I heard some one near me mutter: "So; struck a policeman! No mercy for him from the other policemen-any of them."
The Vater dared not help me; but two of his most intimate friends made me lie down between them; and, swaddled in their rugs, I passed the night miserably. The hard boards, and the vermin, effectually broke my slumbers.
The morning came. The rules of the prison required that we should all rise at six, roll up the rugs, lay them at the heads of our beds, and sweep out the room. Weary and sore, I paced the prison while these things were done. Even the morning ablution was comfortless and distressing; a pocket-handkerchief serving but indifferently for a towel.
Restless activity now took full possession of the prisoners. There was not the combined shouting or singing of the previous day; but there was independent action, which broke out in various ways. Hunger had roused them; the prison allowance is one meal a day: and although, by husbanding the supply, some few might eke it out into several repasts, the majority had no such control over their appetite. Tall, gaunt lads, just starting into men, went roaming about with wild eyes, purposeless, pipkin in hand, although hours must elapse before the meal would come. Caged beasts pace their narrow prisons with the same uniform and unvarying motion.