COLUMBIA. UNIVERSITY LIBKAKU 
 ; Edwin Patrick Kilkob 
 Collection os Tammaniana. 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS 
 
 A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTif.E. 
 
 BY JOHN McGINN. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1855, 
 BY P. F. JIARRXS, 
 
 in the Clerk's office, of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 r. F. HARRIS, PUBLISHER, 208 BROADWAY. 
 1855 
 
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 Edwin Patrick Kilroe 
 Collection of Tammaniana 
 
 )0KS 
 
 th reading, I would 
 
 be pleased to call their attention to the following, which are from the 
 pens of some of the most celebrated writers either in this country or in 
 Europe. 
 
 Any of these books may be had at our office, or sent by mail on receipt 
 of price, in bills, silver, or postage stamps, to any part of the world. 
 
 Merry Wives of Lorvlon 50c 
 
 Aristotle's Complete Works 1-00 
 
 The Mysteries of- Venus, or Lessons 
 
 of Love 26c 
 
 The Adventures of a musical stu- 
 dent.... ; 25e 
 
 The History of a a Rake.. 25 
 
 Don Pedro in search of aVnfVflMBPP 
 The Intrigue of T^ree Days . 
 
 Tales of Twilight 25c 
 
 The Child i,"*tuie Improved by 
 
 Chance 25c 
 
 Memoirs of an Old Man of twenty 
 
 five 50c 
 
 The Iniquities of New- York 25c 
 
 Gustavus, the Don Juan of France 25c 
 Brother James, the Libertine... 25c 
 
 Memoirs of a Woman 25c 
 
 The Mysteries of Women 25c 
 
 Lady Augusta Clay ton 25c 
 
 The Secret Amours of Napoleon .. . 25c 
 
 Memoirs of a man of Pleasure 50c 
 
 Greatness of Little Things 1.00 
 
 True American Text Book 50o 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen's Book of 
 
 Etiquette 50c 
 
 Adoline, the Female Adventurer. . . 25c 
 
 Gay Girls of New-York 25c 
 
 Ladies Garter ; or, the Platonic 
 Marriage 25c- 
 
 Gav 
 
 The Bridal Chamber and its My fi- 
 let ie- .- 26r 
 
 Kate Castgeton, the Beautiful Mil- 
 liner 25c 
 
 Matrimony Made Easy 1.00 
 
 Guide to Pleasure 25c 
 
 The Locket 25c 
 
 . of Marriage 25c 
 
 Gay &jass-lWBTirti! their Young Lov- 
 ers 25c 
 
 Caroline Tracy, The Milliner's Ap- 
 prentice 25c 
 
 Ellen Grant; or, Fashionable Life in 
 
 New-York 25<r 
 
 Adventures of Clarence Bolton .... 26c 
 Mary Price; Adventures of a Ser- 
 vant Maid j 50c 
 
 Life of Helen Jewett 25c 
 
 Grace; or, the Beautiful Bonnet- 
 
 Girl ..<y-*„.. 26c 
 
 Banker's Daughter ft 60c 
 
 Ten Days in the Tombs 25c 
 
 Tom de Lacy ; Convict's Revenge 26c 
 
 MnrvAnn Temple , 2&c 
 
 Melting Moments; L&f3 Among the 
 
 Roses 25c 
 
 Venus Alc-^v.^ose Buds of 
 
 love....--- 60c 
 
 Lucifer Loves of New-York 25c 
 
 P. F. HARRIS, Publisher, 298 Broadway N. Y. 
 
 PARTICULAR NOTICE. 
 
 The Broadway Belle a splendid weekly paper, puolished every Sat- 
 urday at one dollar a year. Any person sending two dollars for two 
 subscriptions to the Belle one year, or for four subscriptions six months, 
 shall receive any four 25 cent books, or any two 5(1 cent books on the list, 
 free. This is a grand chance for persons to get up clnbs. Specimen pa- 
 pers will be sent free to any person wishing thrm, by addressing a letter 
 to me. This is an uncommon chance and I hope every one will improve 
 it. All letters must be addressed to 
 
 P. F. HARRIS, Publisher, 298 Broadway, New- York. 
 
Tammaniaiia 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : 
 
 OE, A KEY TO THE MODERN EASTILE. 
 
 " Hark ! from the Tombs a doleful sound ! " 
 
 Old Hymn. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE TOMBS, AS VIEWED ON THE OUTSIDE, &C. 
 
 Among the many objects of interest that attract the 
 attention of strangers who visit the city of New York, not 
 the'least is the City Prison in Centre street, commonly 
 known as " The Tombs." It is bounded by Centre, Elm, 
 Leonard and Franklin streets. Built in a quaint Egyptian 
 style of architecture, and fronted by massive columns of 
 granite, it looms up vast, gloomy and terrible, irresistibly 
 producing in the breast of the spectator a sensation of pro- 
 found awe. He stands before the " Halls of Justice," 
 (so called.) It is rumored, however, that ever since the 
 adopt on of the Prohibitory Liquor Law, Madame Justice 
 has ta ken up her abode elsewhere. The spectator, however 
 innocent he may be, can scarce refrain from trembling as 
 I he contemplates this stronghold of Law. The mighty 
 ■ building conveys to him an impression of Power. He 
 ,' thinks of the many wretches who are hopelessly immured 
 ' within its frightful cells. He almost fancies that he hears 
 
6 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS I OE, 
 
 the clang of iron doors and the rattling of chains. His 
 ear catches the hollow echoes of heavy feet traversing the 
 stone corridors. He thinks of the many unfortunate beings 
 who languish within that horrid sepulchre, grovelling in 
 straw, pacing the narrow confines of their cells, turning their 
 aching and half-blinded eyes from day to day towards the 
 little chink, high up in the wall, that only suffers them to 
 see a small patch of the blue sky — and awaiting with 
 feverish anxiety the day of trial, which shall witness per- 
 haps their happy liberation, but most probably their condem- 
 nation to a long imprisonment. The spectator continues to 
 gaze and dream, and his " mind's eye" beholds another and 
 still more painful scene. A dim procession glides, like a 
 company of spectres, through the main hall of the prison. 
 There are many legal, judicial and official functionaries. 
 There is the High Sheriff of the County, wearing a sword 
 as an emblem of authority. There is a Judge, and a Jury. 
 There is a reverend clergyman, reading from the sacred 
 volume the words — " I am the resurrection and the life." 
 But who is this that follows him ? A man in the prime of 
 life, his arms bound with cords. He looks pale, but bold , 
 and undaunted. He smiles scornfully when the good min- , 
 ister urges him to pray. Half an hour afterwards, in the / 
 yard of the prison, he is strangled upon the gallows, and 
 dies with a curse upon his lips. Such scenes as these are 
 of common occurrence within the walls of the " Tombs." | 
 Prior to the erection of this reservoir of crime and misery, i 
 criminals were accommodated with apartments in the 
 " Bridewell," a dingy old stone building that formerly stood 
 in the Park, west of the City Hall. This edifice was de- 
 molished many years ago. Richard P. Robinson, the 
 undoubted murderer of Helen Jewett, was incarcerated in 
 the old Bridewell, in a cell facing the Park. The multi- 
 
A KEY TO THE MODEKN BASTILE. 
 
 7 
 
 tude outside could easily see him at the grated window of 
 his cell ; and, upon numerous small slips of paper he wrote 
 with his pencil the words " Not Guilty." These slips he 
 threw among the crowd. Robinson, owing to the efforts 
 of his able and eloquent counsel, was acquitted' — but there 
 can be no doubt of his having been guilty of one of the 
 most atrocious murders recorded in the annals of crime. 
 He is now dead. 
 
 The necessities of the times — the rapid increase of New 
 York population, and the consequent growth of crime 
 demanded the erection of an extensive local prison, for the 
 accommodation of those ladies and gentlemen whose seclu- 
 sion from society was rendered desirable by their various 
 humorous eccentricities in the ways of getting drunk, bat- 
 tering each others' visages, and feloniously appropriating to 
 their own use the goods and chattels of their neighbors. 
 Therefore, to supply this obvious want, the " Tombs" was 
 built. We know not who designed the building, neither 
 are we acquainted with the name of the architect ; suffice 
 it to say, the arrangements are excellent with reference to 
 the security of prisoners, whose comfort, however, has been 
 very little thought of. But that, of course, is an affair of 
 little or no consequence to the stern minions of the law, 
 who usually regard a prisoner— no matter how trifling his 
 offence may be — as an animal to be treated with as much 
 neglect, harshness and brutality as may be suggested by 
 the whim of the moment. 
 
 The " Tombs" is built upon marshy soil, and the founda- 
 tion is laid upon immense timbers. The walls have sunk 
 in several places, producing cracks which have been filled 
 up with mortar. One or more of these cracks can be plainly 
 seen in the wall which fronts on Elm street. The dampness 
 of the soil penetrates the lower cells of the prison, making 
 
8 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS I OR, 
 
 them very unwholesome places of abode. Several years 
 ago, three or four men were found dead in one of these 
 cells, where they had been placed, we believe for drunken- 
 ness. Their death was probably caused by the inhalation 
 of poisonous gases that emanated from the marsh beneath 
 them. Poor fellows ! they paid dearly for their insignifi- 
 cant offences ! 
 
 The prison is in the immediate neighborhood of the 
 "Five Points" — very convenient, certainly, on account of 
 the facility with which the nnruly denizens of that wretched 
 locality can be transferred to durance vile. The building 
 is also within two or three minutes' walk of Broadway. 
 Thif? the " Tombs" is hemmed in on both sides by Wealth 
 and Wretchedness — Fashion and Famine — Beauty and 
 Brutality. The " Five Points" furnish a goodly proportion 
 of the prison's population ; not so Broadway, however, for, 
 although there may be more real crime upon that fashiona- 
 ble promenade than upon the "Five Points," it is an un- 
 deniable fact that wickedness in high places, can, by the po- 
 tent aid of gold, generally manage to escape merited pun- 
 ishment, while sin in low places is sure to be visited with 
 condign retribution. For example : — the vigilant police- 
 man who is actuated by a praiseworthy desire to seize and 
 imprison all drunkards, (and, ever since the passage of the 
 Prohibitory Liquor Law, a marvellous impulse has been 
 given to this branch of police business,) does not look for 
 victims among the Broadway " swells" who come stagger- 
 ing out of fashionable drinking saloons, full of good 
 brandy at ten cents per glass. No — these gentlemen are 
 too respectable to be meddled with. The conscientious " M, 
 P.," who is continually playing a star engagement for his 
 own benefit, is particularly down on the poverty-stricken 
 consumers of three cent alocholic refreshments, as obtained 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 9 
 
 iu ordinary bar-rooms and Dutch corner groceries ; and 
 woe be unto the unfortunate Bacchanalian of this humble 
 class, who may be encountered during his cork-screw career 
 through the streets by one of the blue-coated gentry ! To 
 the " Tombs" he is marched or dragged forthwith ; and, if 
 he cannot pay ten dollars for the luxury of getting drunk, 
 he is furnished with board aud lodging — such as it is — at 
 the expense of the city, during the term of ten days. The 
 poor devil groans and starves in the prison yard all day, 
 and in the gloomy cells all night ; while the fashionable 
 "swell," who was publicly and beastly drunk yesterday, 
 laughs heartily, as he sucks down his sherry cobbler, and 
 reads, in the columns of the Tribune, a bombastic and 
 would-be witty description of the arrest, trial and sentence 
 of the poor inebriate. 
 
 " 'Pon my soul," drawls the dandy drunkard, as he or- 
 ders another glass of his favorite beverage — " I can't con- 
 ceive why it is that these low fellows will indulge in the 
 ardent. They should all be sent to the Island for an inde- 
 finite period of time. Getting elevated should be the ex- 
 clusive prerogative of gentlemen — dem me !" 
 
 And the aristocrat gets drunk again, and staggers 
 along Broadway, perfectly secure from molestation. 
 
 There is no exaggeration in this — it is a true picture of 
 an actual fact. 
 
 The liquor dealers have combined, and organized, and 
 created an immense standing capital, for the purpose of 
 screening each other from the consequences of any infringe- 
 ment of the new law. They are defended by able counsel, 
 who have raised serious doubts as to the constitutionality 
 of the law. That law, so far as the liquor dealers are con- 
 cerned, is at present almost a dead letter upon the statute 
 book. Consequently the liquor dealers are, to all intents 
 
10 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 and purposes, exempt from those unpleasant, annoying and 
 expensive penalties that were anticipated as the result of 
 the violation of the new law. The liquor dealer laughs in 
 his sleeve as he says' to himself— " What does the law 
 amount to, after all said and done ? Just nothing at all." 
 
 And he continues to sell liquor, and accumulate his pro- 
 fits, with more industry than ever.- 
 
 But the blow falls heavily upon the poor, unprotected 
 liquor drinkers. They have no organization — no standing 
 capital — no able lawyers to defend them. The majority of 
 them are even unable to pay the fine of ten dollars which 
 is inflicted upon them, when arrested for the crime of drink- 
 ing a glass or two of liquor. They are the SCAPE 
 GOATS of the Prohibitory Law, and they are obliged to 
 bear all the burden of that unjust enactment. 
 
 The question here arises in my mind — is it not the duty 
 of the wealthy liquor dealers to assist the poor liquor drink- 
 ers, when the latter fall into the meshes of the law ? The 
 dealer is benefitted by the patronage of the drinker, and 
 therefore should have some human sympathy with those 
 who fall victims to a law which reason, common sense and 
 justice alike unequivocally condemn. Gentlemen who sell 
 rum and get rich in the business, will please take this mat- 
 ter into serious consideration ; and I feel perfectly confi- \ 
 dent that their characteristic benevolence (!!!) will prompt | 
 them to " remember those in bonds as bound with them." ^ 
 
 But my present object is not to make particular com- 
 plaint either of the ten dollars fine or the ten days im- 
 prisonment, when viewed simply as penalties. But I do 
 complain of the infernal brutality which accompanies the 
 imprisonment. I do complain of the heartless treatment 
 and the unheard-of cruelties that are inflicted upon prisoners 
 confined in the Tombs for drunkenness. Is it not punish- 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 11 
 
 ment enough that a man should be dragged away from his 
 business for the space of ten days — that he should run the 
 risk of losing his situation — that he should experience the 
 humiliation of having his name and the particulars of his 
 case inserted in a newspaper by some puppy of a reporter — 
 that he should be separated from his wife and children, who 
 are suffering for the bread which he is unable to earn for 
 them ? All these things constitute a punishment severe 
 enough for such a trifling offence as intoxication, without a 
 man's being knocked about by negro convict-keepers — • 
 abused in the vilest terms — starved — forced to herd with 
 the most loathsome beings that infest the wharves and foul 
 dens of the city — plundered by black and Irish thieves, 
 who, although prisoners themselves, are permitted to tyran- 
 nize over the " ten day men," — and denied the privilege of 
 being visited by his friends, who are driven away from the 
 prison gates, often with opprobrious epithets, and threats of 
 their being "taken in and locked up," if they venture to 
 call again ! 
 
 Persons committed to the " Tombs" for drunkenness, are 
 not treated in the same manner as other prisoners. They 
 are converted into outcasts, even within the walls of a 
 prison. The murderer, with the blood of his victim fresh 
 upon his hands, is treated like a prince — the inebriate, who 
 has injured no one but himself, is treated worse than a dog. 
 The rascally thief is accommodated with a clean cell — lie 
 has a bed, and blankets — if he has friends, they are allowed 
 to visit him, and bring him food and luxuries- — he is 
 directly under the care of responsible prison officers, and is 
 not exposed to the brutality of negro convicts — he is 
 allowed the regular prison fare of bread, beef, soup, coffee, 
 &c, — coarse fare, certainly, but sufficient to satisfy hunger 
 and sustain nature. In short, a thief is treated like a 
 
12 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS ; OE, 
 
 human being who has not lost every claim to merciful con- 
 sideration. But the drunkard ! How is it with him { 
 Read the following pages, and learn. I shall tell the truth, 
 the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. In making 
 these statements, I stand acquitted before my conscience 
 and my Maker. 
 
 I have puzzled my brain in vain, trying to discover the 
 cause why a drunkard should be treated twenty times 
 worse than a criminal. There must be something very rot- 
 ten in the regulations which govern the arrangements in 
 the " Tombs." Is it possible that Mr. Gray, the Warden, 
 can be aware of the cruelties that are inflicted upon the 
 " ten day men" under his charge ? Do the Ten Governors 
 know or care anything about the matter ? Does His 
 Honor, Mayor Wood — a gentleman of enlightened benevo- 
 lence, and a public officer who has attained an enviable 
 fame by his reformation of existing abuses — does he know 
 that within the walls of the New York City Prison, unfor- 
 tunate men are treated with a degree of barbarity that is 
 perfectly appalling ? No, he cannot be aware of this, 
 otherwise he would have removed the evil. My prin- 
 cipal object in writing this pamphlet, is, that the authori- 
 ties and the public may become acquainted with the 
 internal affairs of an institution which is to them as a sealed 
 book. They know little or nothing of the discipline of the 
 " Tombs," because, when they visit the prison, they see 
 everything only in its most favorable aspect, all the revolt- 
 ing features being either concealed or passed over with a 
 haste that will not admit of a critical examination. The 
 men imprisoned for intoxication are for the most part illi- 
 terate, and incapable of communicating their thoughts to 
 the press. They suffer in silence, and when discharged, go 
 about their business without saying anything about the en- 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 13 
 
 ormities of which they have been made the victims. And 
 so people remain in profound ignorance of the " secrets of 
 the prison house," The writer of this, however, is deter- 
 mined that those secrets shall be trumpeted abroad all over 
 the surface of the civilized globe. 
 
 Do not say that I am attaching too much importance to 
 mere trifles — that ten days is too short a time to make a 
 fuss about. Ah, my friend ! is it a trifling thing for a man 
 to have planted in his system the seeds of permanent dis- 
 ease, consequent upon his being obliged to sleep at night in 
 a damp cell, on a hard floor, without bed or covering of 
 any kind ? And oh, most considerate philanthropist ! you 
 who sleep upon a bed of down, and banquet daily upon 
 luxuries ! can you not conceive that ten days may seem an 
 endless age — an eternity — when fierce hunger is gnawing 
 at a man's vitals, and when he is in a condition of agoniz- 
 ing uncertainty, as to what will become of his wife — his 
 children — who, deprived of his assistance and support, may 
 starve for want of bread ! 
 
 It would be a measure of humane policy to provide the 
 " ten day men " with some sort of employment, by which 
 they might pay for their keeping ; and then, by all means, 
 allow them the regular fare and general treatment to which 
 every prisoner within those walls is entitled by law. 
 
 This is all I am contending for — the right of drunkards 
 to receive as good treatment as murderers, burglars, high- 
 way robbers and thieves. Is there anything unreasonable in 
 this demand ? Is the man who cuts your throat or steals 
 your pocket-book, better entitled to sympathy and kindness, 
 than he who drinks a glass or two of spirituous liquor, per- 
 haps to the injury of no one at all ? Reflect a moment, and 
 you cannot fail to realize the glaring inconsistency and foul 
 injustice of the arrangements that now exist in the "Tombs," 
 
14 
 
 TBJf DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OR, 
 
 with reference to the classification and treatment of har- 
 dened felons and unfortunate drunkards. 
 
 A residence of ten days in the drunkard's department of 
 the " Tombs" completely prostrates a man, both physically 
 and mentally ; and, in most cases, he comes out a mere 
 wreck and shadow of his former self, his limbs trembling 
 with weakness, his beard unshaven, his clothes dirty, rag- 
 ged and perhaps filled with vermin, and his heart the abode 
 of black despair. Unable to go to work, and crushed by 
 a load of misery, he is tempted to terminate his sorrows by 
 the desperate act of suicide. Here is a paragraph which 
 I have just seen in the Herald. The reader can make his 
 own comments : — 
 
 " Found Drowned. — Coroner Hilton held an inquest on 
 the body of .James Hannan, of Ireland, 38 years old, who 
 was found drowned at pier No. 5, East River. Deceased 
 had just been liberated from the Tombs, where he had been im- 
 prisoned ten days for intoxication ! He had been missing 
 two days." 
 
 This " introduction" has extended to a far greater length 
 than I at first intended ; but I could not well say less. 
 Therefore, without making any unnecessary apologies. 1 
 now begin my self-appointed task, merely premising that 1 
 shall 
 
 — " Nothing extenuate 
 
 Nor set down aught in malice." 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 15 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE FAT PHILOSOPHER FELL INTO THE 
 HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES. 
 
 Gentlest of readers, I am about to ask you a very deli- 
 cate and perhaps impertinent question ; but, as I am beyond 
 the reach of your indignant frown, I am emboldened to be 
 inquisitive. At the same time, you need not answer, if 
 the reply would tend to criminate yourself. Now for it : 
 — did you ever wake up on a fine morning, and discover, 
 to your unutterable astonishment, that you were the inhab- 
 itant of an apartment in the station house ? — and that, too, 
 without your being able to imagine how the deuce you hap- 
 pened to get there ? Ah I that tell-tale blush that suffuses 
 your face, proclaims that you have enjoyed that delightful ex- 
 perience. Well, never mind ; comfort yourself with the 
 reflection that many great men have been in watch-houses 
 and prisons. There was the Marquis of Waterford — while 
 in this country, he was repeatedly incarcerated in various 
 watch-houses, for disorderly conduct. Theu there is my 
 particular and personal friend, Horace Greeley — was he not 
 recently jugged in Paris ! To be sure he was, and he ex- 
 ultingly announces the fact in his own paper, like a sensible 
 man, who has done nothing of which he need be ashamed. 
 Well, reader, when you awoke and found yourself in the 
 stone jug, lying upon the softest of planks with your crush- 
 ed hat for a pillow, don't you remember how your head 
 swam, and how, upon your confused mind, there came indis- 
 tinct recollections of the preceding night's dissipation — 
 how you shook hands with innumerable strange individuals 
 
16 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 — how you swore eternal friendship to a gentleman whom 
 you had not the pleasure of personally knowing — bow you 
 recklessly lent that gentleman a dollar, when he assured 
 you, upon his unsullied honor and with his hand placed upon 
 the left division of his waistcoat, that he would refund the 
 money punctually the next day, at ten o'clock — how you 
 began to feel sick, and sought the open air — how you soon 
 felt better, and took several more drinks of a miscellaneous 
 character, mingling brandy punch with lager beer, and es- 
 tablishing an unnatural conjunction between heavy old 
 porter and cocktails composed of dubious gin — how all the 
 lights in the bar-room began to dance comic fandangoes to 
 the music of the tinkling glasses — how every gentleman in 
 company seemed to have his twin brother by his side, be- 
 cause you saw double — how you made a spasmodic attempt 
 to render the " Bay of Biscay" in deep bass — how your 
 vocal efforts were not appreciated by the unsentimental bar- 
 keeper, who remarked that you had better sit down and 
 keep quiet, or else go out — how you challenged the bar- 
 keeper to light — how, at an advanced hour of the night, 
 you found yourself sparring wildly at a lamp-post, under the 
 insane impression that the useful street fixture had grossly 
 insulted you — and, finally, how you became fatigued, and 
 reposed your manly form at full length upon the side-walk 
 — you have a dim and cloudy remembrance of all this, 
 but you know nothing of the four stout policemen who' 
 raised you up bodily, carried you to the station-house, and 
 bundled you neck and heels into the little cell in which 
 you found yourself next morning 1 
 
 Such, very nearly, was the experience of a certain Fat 
 Philosopher of our acquaintance, not a great while ago. 
 Our friend, who is a literary man of some eminence, has 
 long been noted for his convivial propensities ; indeed, a 
 
A KEY TO THE MODEEN BASTILE. 
 
 17 
 
 fondness for the bottle is very frequently manifested by 
 gentlemen connected with the press and the world of letters. 
 Upon the occasion referred to, the Fat Philosopher, elated 
 by the successful commencement of a new enterprise in 
 which he was engaged, and being impelled moreover by a 
 superfluity of funds and an abundance of disinterested 
 friends, went through the following progressive stages of 
 inebriation. The reader will admire the accuracy with 
 which we classify the different degrees of drunken- 
 ness : — 
 
 THE LADDER 
 
 THAT DESCENDS FROM SOBRIETY TO INTOXICATION : 
 
 As traversed by the Fat Philosopher 
 Round First. — Falstaff, who standeth at the top of the 
 ladder, feeleth sociable, and drinketh with a friend or 
 two. 
 
 Round Second. — He becometh confidential, and commu- 
 nicateth his plans for the future. 
 
 Round Third. — He treateth the party again, and be- 
 cometh darkly mysterious. 
 
 Round Fourth. — More drinks ; protestations of eternal 
 friendship, and a general shaking of hands. 
 
 Round Fifth. — Falstaff essayeth to sing, but breaketh 
 down in the effort, and covereth his confusion by " askiitg 
 'em all up." 
 
 Round Sixth. — He hath a dispute with the bar-keeper 
 about incorrect change. He becometh valiant, and chal- 
 lengeth the aforesaid publican to personal combat. 
 
 Round Seventh. — He descendeth into a lager bier saloon, 
 and drinketh several pints of that Germanic fluid, which, 
 mixed with other potations, produceth somnific sensa- 
 tions. 
 
IS 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OR, 
 
 Round Eighth: — He is pretty well down the ladder by 
 this time, and waxeth stupid. 
 
 Round Ninth, and last. — He hath arrived at the bottom 
 of the ladder, and slumbereth upon the " cold, cold ground." 
 Whereupon, he falleth into the hands of the Philistines. 
 
 " Furthermore, deponent sayeth not." When our Fat 
 Philosopher awoke in the morning, he found himself the 
 sole tenant of an apartment in the Second Ward Station 
 House. " Phansy his feelinks." However, he neither 
 raved, nor tore his ambrosial curls, nor worked himself up 
 into a useless passion, for Philosophy sustained him under 
 his misfortunes, and throwing himself back upon his dignity 
 and his wooden couch, (soft pine, with an inverted water- 
 bucket for a pillow,) he appropriately sang — " I dreamed 
 that I dwelt in granite halls." This was vociferously 
 applauded by an intoxicated gentleman in an adjoining cell. 
 Several ladies, of very free-and-easy manners and appear- 
 ance, were wandering up and down the open space in front 
 of the cells, and their presence, combined with their spicy 
 conversation, added piquancy to the occasion. Soon all the 
 ladies and gentlemen, with the exception of the Fat 
 Philosopher, were removed — taken down to the Tombs, of 
 course ; — and Falstaif remained alone in that temporary 
 lodging-house of Misfortune and Folly. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, the delinquent was summoned 
 up stairs, where he found himself in the august presence of 
 an official who was seated behind a desk with a big book- 
 before him. In answer to the usual inquiries " in such cases 
 made and provided," the Philosopher stated his name, age, 
 place of birth, occupation, &c. This ceremony being over, 
 a sum of money which had been taken from him on the prece- 
 ding night, was honorably restored to him ; whereupon a' 
 short gentleman, wearing a glittering star upon his breast, 
 
A KEY TO THE MODEKN BASTILE. 
 
 19 
 
 invited him, in terms of elaborate politeness, to take a short 
 walk, "just to get a sniff or two of fresh air." An invita- 
 tion couched in such courteous terms could not well be 
 declined ; therefore, the Fat Philosopher and the Nobleman 
 decorated with the Brazen Star, sallied forth together, 
 being upon the most intimate and friendly terms with each 
 other. 
 
 Now it came to pass that Falstaff was athirst ; and, 
 although he wished not for a " cup of sack," he could not 
 resist the impression that a glass of brandy and water 
 (considerable brandy with very little water,) might do him 
 good and make him feel better. Accordingly, he made 
 known his wishes to the Nobleman with the Star, where- 
 upon that obliging patrician graciously permitted his 
 thirsty friend to step into a wayside inn and " wet his 
 whistle " at the bar. The twain then resumed their journey, 
 which, somehow or other, seemed to tend towards Centre 
 street. The Philosopher was in excellent spirits ; the Star 
 Nobleman, grave and dignified, seemed deeply impressed 
 with the immense responsibility of his position. The gov- 
 ernment officer who conveyed the Emperor Napoleon to St. 
 Helena, felt that he had a great man in custody. Doubtless 
 the Star Nobleman felt the same. 
 
 Centre street is reached, and behold ! yonder is the 
 stately palace to which the hospitable Knight of the Star 
 is conducting his corpulent friend. Its gray walls glisten 
 in the brilliant rays of the morning sun ; its gigantic pillars 
 seem to illustrate the strength and solidity of Law — 
 perhaps they also represent the coldness and hardness of 
 certain hearts within. The prisoner — alas, that I should 
 be compelled to write the word ! — wishing to fortify him- 
 self so that he might be enabled to encounter the stern 
 *"rown of " Justice " undismayed, again quaffed a bumper of 
 
20 
 
 TEN DAYS IX THIi TOMBS : OK, 
 
 exhilarating fluid at a corner Uo3telrie ; after which he and 
 the officer ascended the steps of the Tombs, and entered 
 the Police Court. 
 
 Our Philosopher was obliged to wait half an hour before 
 he could obtain a hearing, there being a considerable num- 
 ber of cases to be disposed of. The worthy magistrate was 
 seated at a table in a sort of ante-room ; and, as the weather 
 was very warm, ho had divested himself of coat, vest and 
 cravat. He was a stout, florid-looking gentleman, his 
 appearance indicating that he himself was not a very rigid 
 observer of the strict rules of total abstinence. Indeed, 
 the peculiar nature of his duties renders a moderate degree 
 of stimulus absolutely necessary, for the fumes of alcohol 
 with which the atmosphere is laden, can only be counteracted 
 by the correcting influence of good, imported brandy. 
 
 The Star Nobleman having made the usual complaint, 
 (which he did with an air of hurry and indifference that 
 indicated his being well accustomed to such trifles,) the 
 Fat Philosopher was informed by His Honor that he was 
 at liberty to fork over the insignificant sum of ten dollars, 
 in payment for the luxury of getting drunk Now, it hap- 
 pened that our friend was not just at that time in possession 
 of the necessary funds ; and again, although he might have 
 raised the money by sending for it, he was obstinately 
 determined that the public, treasury, so far as he was indi- 
 vidually concerned, should not be enriched on account of 
 what he conceived to be an unjust law. He therefore 
 declined paying over the ten dollars, whereupon His Honor 
 promptly sentenced him to ten days' imprisonment. 
 
 Our friend was now called up to the, clerk's desk, and 
 required to swear that he would truly tell where he obtained 
 his liquor. But Falstaff's memory was treacherous, and he 
 could not for the life of him remember anything at all about 
 
 t 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 21 
 
 it. The clerk then signed the declaration, Falstaff being 
 requested to touch the pen-holder as he did so, merely as a 
 matter of form. 
 
 These important judicial proceedings being over, the 
 officer conducted the prisoner down stairs, and handed 
 both him and the commitment over to an individual seated 
 at a desk in the hall of the prison. This individual asked 
 Falstaff a few questions, the replies to which he carefully, 
 recorded in a big book ; and then our friend was directed 
 to go out into the yard and turn to his left. He obeyed, 
 and, in the rear of the prison, on the side running parallel 
 with Elm street, he found over one hundred men, enclosed 
 within an open space by an iron railing, in which was a gate, 
 the key of which was in the possession of a gentleman of 
 color known as Jackson, who, although presumed to be a 
 prisoner himself, was invested with the functions of a turn- 
 key and officer over white men. 
 
 Falstaff was ushered into the enclosed space, and, as he 
 mingled with the horrid crowd, he was greeted on every 
 side with the hospitable salutation — 
 
 " You're welcome home !" 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 THE FAT PHILOSOPHER LOOKETH ABOUT HIM, AND MAKETH 
 UP HIS MIND THAT HE IS NOT EXACTLY IN PARADISE. 
 
 There, in that prison yard, were the sweepings of New 
 York's foulest dens — there were the vagabonds who live 
 about the docks, and who may aptly be termed " wharf 
 rats," — there were filthy negroes from the Five Points, and 
 
 ! 
 
 ! 
 
22 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OB, 
 
 brutal Irishmen who amuse themselves by getting drunk 
 and beating their wives — there were little boy thieves, 
 their youthful countenances already bearing the impress of 
 vice and crime — there were diseased and crippled paupers — 
 there were chattering and moping idiots — there were men, 
 just " brought in," in whom the Demon of Rum had not 
 yet died, raving and threatening everybody with death and 
 •destruction — there were sailors who had " spliced the main 
 brace ". once too often — there were respectable mechanics 
 who had taken a glass too much, pale with anxiety as to 
 what would become of their families during their ten days' 
 absence from home — there were laborers, loafers, " bum- 
 mers," members of the " Ham Guards " in good standing, 
 printers whose forms were securely locked up, broken-down 
 dandies, vagrant rag-pickers, street-snoozers, "gutter-snipes," 
 and a few well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking personages who 
 either could not, or would not, (I glory in their spunk,) 
 pay the unjust fine of ten dollars, preferring rather to suffer 
 through ten days, like patriots who are willing to sacrifice 
 everything in a good cause. In short, almost every class in 
 the community was represented there ; but the principle of 
 equality prevailed, and all men, both high and low, were 
 treated precisely alike, by the impartial negro and Irish 
 convicts who governed that particular department of the 
 prison. All were knocked about and starved alike — unless 
 a man happened to have a little money in his possession, in 
 which case he could ward off hunger by the purchase of 
 corporation bread and beef. But of that, more anon. 
 
 Our Philosopher naturally sought out and became 
 acquainted with the most respectable individuals in the 
 company, carefully avoiding the degraded wretches whose 
 companionship was not desirable. Many of these poor 
 creatures were full of vermin ; several of them were actually 
 
A KEY TO THE MODEKN BASTILE. 
 
 23 
 
 without shirts ; some of them were destitute of coats, hats 
 and shoes ; many of them were positively mere walking 
 masses of filth and corruption ; and the odor that prevailed 
 in the yard was sufficiently foul to have bred a contagion. 
 
 ^n one corner of the yard stands a wooden " shanty," 
 which is always crowded with the most wretched of the 
 prisoners, especially during rainy weather. Here«the un- 
 fortunate devils sleep away the weary day, or try to amuse 
 themselves with an old, greasy pack of cards. As this 
 " shanty" is literally crawling with vermin, our Philosopher 
 never entered it, even when the rain descended in torrents, 
 and soaked him to the skin. During his confinement, the 
 weather was almost incessantly stormy, which circumstance 
 of course did not add materially t» the comfort of his situa- 
 tion. 
 
 The majority of the " ten day prisoners," who belonged 
 to the lowest strata of society, and were in fact the very 
 dregs of the city's population, were continually developing 
 the lowest aud most disgraceful vices that can disfigure 
 humanity, and degrade it to the level of brute beasts. In- 
 stead of having the slightest feeling of sympathy with each 
 other, or manifesting any disposition to treat one another 
 with that mutual kindness and forbearance which should 
 have been suggested by the misery of their common situa- 
 tion, these wretches were incessantly quarreling and fight- 
 ing upon the most trifling provocation — assailing each other 
 with the most horribly profane and indecent epithets, and 
 exhibiting the infernal malignity of incarnate fiends. 
 Whenever a fight took place between these brutes, the 
 others would gather around, forming a ring, and encourag- 
 ing the combatants by their shouts and yells. None of the 
 V 1 icers of the prison ever interfered to suppress these scenes of 
 mmult. In fact, it was but very seldom that any regular 
 
24. TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 keeper of the establishment ever approached the " ten day 
 men" at all. Men merely committed for drunkenness are, 
 it seems unworthy of the same consideration and 
 attention which are extended to thieves, burglars, 
 highway robbers and murderers. The drunkard is sub- 
 iected to the caprices, tyranny and brutality of convicted 
 black convict rascals, while the double-dyed villain is treat- 
 ed something like a man. It would seem that the prison 
 authorities, enraged at the inability or unwillingness of the 
 drinking man to pay the ten dollars, were determined to 
 punish him in a manner the most severe and cruel that 
 could possibly be devised. How true it is that 
 
 " Man's inhumanity to raan 
 Makes countless thousands mourn I" 
 
 Perhaps no better illustration of a perfect " hell on 
 earth" could have been produced, than the scene in the 
 prison yard that met the gaze of our Philosopher. The 
 most intense selfishness — the most brutal ferocity and mu- 
 tual hatred — and a positive desire to injure each other in 
 every way — existed among the lower class of the prisoners. 
 It was truly disgusting to see two men, (do they deserve 
 the name of men ?) clothed in rags, and tottering with the 
 weakness which is the consequence of a long course of in- 
 temperance and starvation, tearing each other like hyenas, 
 and howling madly with rage and pain, to the great de- 
 light of the loathsome and hideous crowd that surrounded 
 them. 
 
 One poor wretch, in particular, was the object of gene- 
 ral persecution. He was called " Bones," on account, it 
 was said, of his having purloined and ravenously gnawed a' 
 bone of putrid meat, which, with others, had been de - 
 posited in a hogshead just outside of the iron railing, emit- 
 ting a horrible stench. Unfortunately for Bones, he pes- 
 
A. KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 25 
 
 sessed a very foul and abusive tongue, which he used so 
 freely, that all his fellow prisoners became " dead down" 
 upon him. They would beat and kick him without mercy ; 
 they would throw scalding hot rice upon him ; they would 
 duck him with water ; and fairly crazy with rage, fear and 
 pain combined, Bones would run howling around the yard 
 hotly pursued by the yelling and infuriated throng. It 
 was a terrible situation for a man to be placed in — for 
 there was no escape ! At length, bruised and bleeding, 
 breathless 'and overcome with fatigue, Bones would fall 
 down exhausted, and then the crowd would attack him with 
 renewed ferocity, he meanwhile crying out " murder 
 murder !" at the top of his voice. At last, after a few 
 days passed in this frightful manner, Bones obtained sight 
 of a keeper who happened to be strolling around that way 
 by mere accident. 
 
 " For God's sake, Mr. 0 -, take me out, of this yard 
 
 and put me in a cell, or I shall be killed," implored Bones. 
 
 Strange to say, this request was complied with, and 
 Bones was removed to a place of safety, if not of comfort. 
 
 Notwithstanding all these repulsive scenes, our Philoso- 
 pher beheld many humorous arrangements that made him 
 laugh. Some of the men, actuated by a commendable de- 
 sire to keep themselves as clean as possible, had stripped 
 themselves entirely naked ; and having washed their 
 clothes at the hydrant, they remained in a state of nature, 
 while their garments - were drying in the sun. It was ex- 
 cessively funny to see these gentlemen strutting about the 
 yard, in the primitive costume of old Father Adam before 
 he assumed the garment of fig-leaves. Smoking their 
 pipes, and chatting sociably with their friends, these 
 model artists" were as indifferent to their appearance as 
 if they had been arrayed in the most elaborate style of the 
 
26 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 fashionable mode. However, a sculptor would have hesi- 
 tated to accept any of these undraped figures as models for 
 classic statuary, on account of incorrect legs and a general 
 inaccuracy of physical structure. 
 
 The Philosopher noticed and was highly amused with 
 another comical feature of the place. Among about one 
 hundred and thirty men there were only thirty or forty 
 vessels in which to receive food. An individual, therefore, 
 who possessed a pot or pan of any kind, was esteemed 
 peculiarly fortunate ; and he clung to his treasure with 
 desperate tenacity, never parting with it under any circum- 
 stances, and carrying it continually with him, under his arm, 
 or in his hat, or suspended from his waist, like a gigantic 
 watch-seal. His pan served him as a seat by day, and a 
 pillow by night. These vessels were of divers and sundry 
 kinds, no two being alike. One huge fellow was obliged to 
 be content with a little gill measure, while a diminutive 
 cobbler received his rations in an immense but dilapidated 
 watering-pot. Here was a gentleman* armed with a pot- 
 cover, which he carried after the manner of an ancient 
 Roman warrior bearing his shield ; there was a jolly Jack 
 tar, flourishing a noseless coffee-pot without a handle ; 
 while yonder citizen of this great and glorious Republic 
 concentrated all his hopes in a big demijohn, out of which 
 he extracted his rice by the simple but effectual process of 
 suction through a tin putty-blower. Whenever this 
 ingenious gentleman breakfasted or dined, he reminded our 
 Philosopher of a convivialist indulging in a sherry-cobbler 
 on a mammoth scale. Those prisoners who were not pro- 
 vided with vessels, were entirely dependent upon the ( 
 accommodating generosity of their associates. A poor 
 fellow would patiently wait and borrow the utensil of his 
 friend, as soon as the latter had finished his repast ; or, 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 27 
 
 when specially invited, the destitute one would dip into the 
 same pan, and the two would eat together. Falstaff says 
 that he has seen five or six men eating out of one vessel at 
 the same time. As no spoons were furnished, the prisoners 
 were compelled to make substitutes out of bits of wood. 
 The Philosopher still retains his wooden spoon in his pos- 
 session. He has written upon it an appropriate inscription, 
 and exhibits it to the curious with honest pride. " It is," 
 says he, (and a holy enthusiasm beams in his finely intel- 
 lectual countenance as he utters the words,) — "my tem- 
 perance medal ; when tempted to imbibe, I look at this 
 little talisman, and, remembering the horror with which it 
 has been associated, the temptation is easily overcome, and 
 Sobriety triumphs I" Having delivered himself thus 
 eloquently and emphatically, our friend lights his pipe and 
 is soon lost in a cloud. 
 
 Our Philosopher saw and-noted all these things, storing 
 them up in his memory for future use, he being resolved 
 that the confinement of ten clays should eventually " put 
 money in his purse." 
 
 At about ten o'clock that morning, loud cries of " rice ! 
 rice I" announced that breakfast was about to be served up. 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 " a chiel's among ye takin' notes, an' faith he'll 
 
 PRENT 'EM." 
 
 The banquet came in a large and not excessively clean 
 tub, borne by a negro and an Irishman — both prisoners, both 
 insufferably insolent, and both duly impressed with the im- 
 portance and dignity of their official stations. Vagabonds 
 
28 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 in the street, those wretches were monarchs in prison. 
 Having grown fat and saucy on corporation bread and 
 beef, and keeping themselves rather more than half drunk 
 all the time, these ofl'scourings of humanity being encourag- 
 ed by their superiors, delighted in lording it over men who 
 were as far superior to them, in everything that constitutes 
 true manhood, as the eagle is superior to the foul vulture 
 which feeds on carrion. These two most contemptible of. 
 all flunkeys bring in the tub, from which arises a steam 
 which may be graceful to look at, but not grateful to smell. 
 We shall see presently of what the morning banquet is to 
 consist — some exquisite luxury, no doubt ; at least we are 
 led to judge, so by the conduct of the starving men, who 
 evince the wildest eagerness to receive their several por- 
 tions. How they rush forward with their grotesque pans 
 extended — how they huddle around that dingy old tub, 
 from which any hog of average respectability might turn 
 with a grunt of disapprobation and a feeling of disgust- 
 how humbly and piteously each man implores that he may 
 be served first — how they push, and shove, and trample 
 upon each other, like fellows who are fighting and strug- 
 gling to procure their pit tickets on the night of Forrest's 
 "first appearance!" Each man curses his neighbor for 
 manifesting the same impatience as himself ; savage blows 
 are exchanged ; an aged man is knocked down and trod- 
 den upon, but no one heeds him — he's of no consequence — ■ 
 let him die — but we must have food. God ! it is horrible 
 to see over a hundred men, right in the midst of a city of 
 plenty, battling for food as if for life, because the terrible 
 fiend of Hunger is gnawing their very vitals ! But look 
 at that big negro, armed with a club ;— he strikes about 
 him right and left, wounding and bruising many of the un- 
 fortunate creatures, in hjs brutal efforts to keep back the 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTIXE. 
 
 29- 
 
 famished throng. The language which this black rascal 
 applies to white men, is most horrible, and would, were he 
 in a Southern state, cost him his worthless life. But the 
 niggers of the North are spoiled by the insane sympathy of 
 sleek-faced abolitionists, who would have us accept a baboon 
 as a man. Listen to the language of this black ape : — 
 
 " Stand back, you s s of b s ! back, or I'll beat 
 
 your G — d — brains out ! " You ask — " why do not 
 those white men slay the negro upon the spot ? " Ah ! 
 hunger has made them weak and timid, and the spirit of 
 manhood has died within them. 
 
 It is an old and true saying, " Give a nigger an inch and 
 he'll take an ell." Keep him beneath your feet, and make 
 him grovel in the mire of his own natural and inherent deg- 
 radation, and he is the most obsequious hound in the world, 
 ready and eager to obey your slightest nod, and fawning 
 around you with all the servility of a dog. But take the 
 same nigger and treat him with something like equality- 
 put him in some petty situation of responsibility or trust, 
 and Cuffee instantly becomes a great man, far too big for 
 his boots. Imitating white people and white fashions with 
 all the faithful mimicry of a monkey, Cuffee becomes inso- 
 lent, and forgets his proper place. The only way, then, to 
 bring him to his senses,, is to kick him on the most sensitive 
 part of his shin, or pull his wool until he promises amend- 
 ment. New York boys, generally speaking, will not tole- 
 rate a darky, as many a dandy nigger, who has been whiten- 
 ed with flour while going along the streets, can testify. 
 How easy it is to distinguish the Southern negro from one 
 born and bred in the North ! Sambo from the South, 
 when he enters a bar-room, respectfully uncovers his head, 
 and stands near the door until he is perceived by the bar- 
 keeper, who carries him his liquor, for which Sambo pays 
 
30 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OB, 
 
 and feels grateful. Not for the world would lie approach 
 the bar — -for he knows his place, and keeps it. What a con- 
 trast to this does the conduct of the Northern negro pre- 
 sent ! He swaggers into a bar-room with the air of a 
 nabob, and ca.ls for his liquor in a loud tone of authority" 
 He turns up h i flattened nose at the quality of the beverage, 
 and says, insolently — " Wha' you call dat ? Why you no 
 sell good rum, sah ? " Sometimes he is kicked out, as he 
 deserves to be, for daring to elbow white men in a public 
 place ; but those people who say — " a uigger's money is as 
 good as anybody else's," are willing to put up with the in- 
 solence of the ape, on account of his money. The keeper of 
 a public house who suffers negroes to swarm around his 
 bar, perpetrates a giw. insult upon his white patrons, who 
 should seek some other place of resort, where their self-re- 
 spect would not be sacrificed. 
 
 The Southern negro is obedient, humble, docile, humor- 
 ous and witty. He looks up to the white man as his natu- 
 ral superior and master — in fact, as his protector. But 
 Mister Ccesar Augustus Johnson, a dandy Northern nigger 
 who has retired from the patent boot-blacking profession, 
 is pompous, saucy, stupid, ignorant, and in every way dis- 
 gusting. His impertinence frequently deserves the appli- 
 cation of a horse-whip. A negro is convicted of felony, 
 and sentenced to the Penitentiary ; but, instead of being 
 " sent up," he is kept hanging about the Tombs, where he 
 is permitted to abuse white men to the full extent of his 
 infernal black malignity. Is it possible that the regularly 
 appointed and regularly paid keepers of the prison are too 
 indolent to attend to their business themselves, that they 
 must depute thieving Five Point negroes to act as officers 
 and tyrants over men who are the most harmless- class of 
 prisoners in the whole establishment, and who certainly 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 31 
 
 deserve better treatment than robbers and murderers? 
 Look to it, Mr. Warden — and you, Messieurs the Ten 
 Governors, see that these - crying evils are abolished, and 
 that justice is done to all. If you know nothing about 
 these enormities, it is high time that you should be made 
 acquainted with them ; and my sole object in writing this 
 book is, that the whole world may be made familiar with 
 the state of affairs within the walls of the Tombs. 
 
 We now return to the distribution of the " breakfast" 
 in the prison yard, as witnessed by our Philosopher. The 
 men, who will persist in crowding around the tub, are 
 finally driven like sheep into the shanty, where, huddled 
 closely together and almost suffocated by the heat and foul 
 air, they give utterance to the most horrible curses on their 
 bad usage. The word is given, and then they pour forth 
 in single file, approach the tub, and those who have vessels 
 are supplied — with what ? Why, boiled rice, to be sure ; 
 good, hearty, substantial fodder, calculated to strengthen 
 a man, and give him heart and courage to endure the buf- 
 fetings and hardships of the place. Yes, — good, solid rice, 
 made into a thick paste, so that it may stick to your ribs 
 and make you as fat as that enormous man out there who 
 wears a white hat with a crape around it. But he doesn't 
 live on rice, does he? oh, no — his bull-frog shape and ex- 
 panded head are the results of very high feeding ; he ab- 
 sorbs all the fat and substance belonging to that one hun- 
 dred starving men. Excellent fare, this rice ! tasting like 
 paste, and gritty with sand — a worm in it here and there, 
 imparting a rich flavor— damaged rice, to be sure, but quite 
 good enough for drunkards. Don't look for molasses— 
 that isn't allowed, because it might make the stuff taste 
 better ; and besides, the Doctor, (as he calls himself,) is 
 afraid that molasses might make the men sick, and he doesn't 
 
32 TEN DATS IN THE TOMBS ! OK, 
 
 want to have so much trouble on his hands. Excellent 
 physician ! how considerate — how kind of him, to be so 
 very careful of the prisoners' health ! But, if you particu- 
 larly desire molasses with your rice, and have a little 
 change about you, you can buy it ! Oh, yes ! You can 
 buy bread and meat, and even rum — the food coming out 
 of the prison kitchen, and rum being procured at the near- 
 est corner grocery outside. These arrangements are for 
 the benefit of the nigger and Irish tyrants, who are said to 
 make quite a pretty little living by speculating in corpora- 
 tion food and other public property. See ! already there 
 is a fellow peddling out the molasses which was purchased 
 for the use of all the prisoners. He charges three cents 
 for enough to sweeten your dish, and he pockets the money 
 with the air of a man who is justly entitled to it. A sickly 
 famished man, who has no money, tries to beg a few drops 
 of the " lengthened sweetness long drawn out," whereupon 
 the molasses merchant, whose motto is " No Trust," 
 threatens to "split open the head" of the beggar, and 
 passes on among his cash customers. The rice tastes posi- 
 tively sickening ; but nothing else is given out, not even a 
 crust of dry bread, which is esteemed a luxury here. But 
 be patient ; you will soon have an opportunity to buy both 
 bread and meat — food to which you are justly entitled, but 
 which is withheld from you so that those thieves may SELL 
 it and pocket the proceeds ! Now, is not this monstrous ? 
 One hundred men, and over, are deprived of their just 
 rations of food, and kept in a state of starvation, in order 
 that convicted felons may peddle out the provisions and 
 pocket the money for the same — provisions bought and 
 paid for by t/ie city, and intended for the use of all the pri- 
 soners in the Tombs ! 
 
 Are these statements doubted ? They can be substan- 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 33 
 
 tialed on oath. God knows there is no necessity for an in- 
 dulgence in exaggeration here, in order to present a pic- 
 ture of perfect atrocity. The Truth, in all its majestic 
 simplicity, is sufficient to fill the soul of any man or woman 
 of feeling, with astonishment and horror. 
 
 A juvenile Dutchman — a saucy little brat, aged about 
 fourteen or fifteen — now enters the yard on some myster- 
 ious business. He, with several other Dutch renegades, is 
 detained as a witness — a sort of traitor who is expected to 
 testify against his former accomplices. Upon his arm he 
 carries a pail, the contents of which are concealed by an 
 old rag. It is evident that lie does not wish any of the 
 prison officers to see the large quantity of bread and beef 
 which he has just stolen from the kitchen, and which he 
 now intends to dispose of to the prisoners, " cheap for cash." 
 The young reprobate, surrounded by a circle of longing and 
 starving prisoners, takes his station in the centre of the 
 yard, and uncovers the delicacies, crying out — ■ 
 
 " Who vants some of dis goot preat andpeef? Only 
 sixpence for great pig chunk. Out mit the monish !" 
 
 Money is of course a very scarce article among these 
 impoverished creatures ; yet a few of them may manage to 
 scrape out a few pence, with which they purchase the food 
 which is theirs by right. In vain does a starving and pen- 
 niless wretch beg for a few crumbs of bread with which to 
 satisfy, partially, the mad cravings of hunger within him. 
 The young Dutch thief quietly damns his presumption, and 
 carries away all the food which he cannot sell, preferring 
 to let it grow putrid and then throw it away, rather than 
 to distribute it gratuitously among starving men. 
 
 The fortunate individuals who have been able to buy a 
 morsel of the coarse prison fare, are now surrounded by 
 their less fortunate associates, who gaze upon the food with 
 
34 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 longing eyes and watering mouths. To be sure, they have 
 gorged themselves with rice ; but that provender, while it 
 fills up, does not satisfy. A man, after eating a large quan- 
 tity of it, will be just as hungry as he was before he touched 
 it. 
 
 The Philosopher saw, scratched upon one of the pans 
 which had been christened " The Drunkard's Bowl," the 
 following sarcastic lines : — 
 
 If you want rice, 
 
 You'll finrl it nice ;— 
 
 If you want beef, 
 
 You'll purchase from a thief !" 
 
 There is a .slight misrepresentation in the second line ; 
 but the two last lines are as true as gospel. 
 
 PART FOURTH. 
 
 " Life in the Stone Jug." 
 
 Our Fat Philosopher, wishing to communicate the par- 
 ticulars of his situation to his friends, in order that they 
 might not suppose that he had jumped overboard, or 
 shipped on a whaling voyage, or turned temperance orator, 
 or done something equally desperate, addressed himself to 
 that respectable colored functionary, Mr. Jackson, (the 
 gate-keeper,) and asked him how he could send a letter as 
 far as Broadway. Mr. Jackson scratched his wool 
 thoughtfully, and inquired — 
 
 " How much money has you got, boss V 
 
 The Philosopher stated, in concise terms, that he pos- 
 sessed exactly the sum of three cents, in the current coin 
 of his nation. 
 
 f 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 35 
 
 On hearing those words, the grin upon the expressive 
 mug of Jackson disappeared, and was succeeded by a look 
 of deep gloom. Said he — 
 
 " Dat's wevry bad, boss, and I doesn't see how de runner 
 is gwine to do de errand widout no money. — Him charge 
 fifty cents to carry de letter. Has you got nothing 'bout 
 you as s'curity for de same." 
 
 The philosopher folded his arms across his ample chest, 
 ( he resembles N apolcon, and he knows it, ) and pondered. 
 He owned a watch — but Uncle Simpson had it in charge, 
 for safe keeping — oh, of course ! He fished in the pockets 
 of his unmentionables, hoping that, while in a state of 
 oblivion, lie might have stowed away a dollar or so, and 
 forgotten it. lie iished, but caught nothing. But a mau 
 of genius is seldom long without resources. The Philoso- 
 pher stripped off his coat, and handing it to Mr. Jackson said : 
 
 " Take this as security for half a dollar. When I pay 
 yon that amount, you will restore the coat." 
 
 Mr. Jackson readily assented to this arrangement. Our 
 friend now took a pencil and a scrap of paper, and wrote 
 the following note, which, as will be seen, is couched in the 
 language, or slang, of literary men and actors : — 
 
 " Cully, — My knibbs has been faked by the napping guys 
 for being btidgey, and, in default of tipping ten slums, I 
 have been sherried in this quisby cab for ten days. Nixey 
 tipping the slums, but sherry clown the kid with my other 
 benjamin, and a sliv.n or two, for the peek is awful quisby. 
 I shall weed raw about this cab when I sherry hence. The 
 crib is ruled by mokes and Micks. My health is rummy. 
 
 Falstaff 1" 
 
 As the reader may not have, received a classical educa 
 cation, we subjoin the following free translation of the fore- 
 going eccentric document : — 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
30 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMES : OR, 
 
 " My Dear Friend, — I have been taken up by the police 
 for intoxication, and, in default of paying a fine of ten 
 dollars, I have been sentenced to this wretched place for 
 ten days. Do not pay the fine, but send the boy down with 
 my other coat, and a dollar or two, for the food is miserable. 
 I shall have something strange to tell about this place when 
 I go out. The establishment is ruled by negroes and Irish- 
 men. My health is good. Falstaff." 
 
 The letter was faithfully delivered by the "runner," a 
 white gentleman having a compound fracture iu the seat of 
 his pantaloons. He was so amusingly drunk that he could 
 scarcely walk, much less run. However, he performed his 
 errand, and brought back a written answer. 
 
 A quantity of clothing and tobacco, a sum of money, and 
 a large number of books, newspapers, &c, were sent down 
 to the prison for the use of our Philosopher, who, how- 
 ever, never received a single thing '. We will not presume 
 lo hint whose fault this must have been ; neither will we 
 suggest what parties must have appropriated the articles to 
 their own private use. But we can't help having our own 
 thoughts concerning the matter. 
 
 During the period of FalstafPs imprisonment — as he 
 afterwards learned — twenty or thirty persons applied for 
 permission to see him, but they were all denied — and that, 
 too, in no very civil terms. One gentleman had a written 
 permit from a Police Justice — but the prison officers repu- 
 diated the document, and would not admit the bearer. 
 Now, this was very hard, particularly in view of the fact 
 that Irishmen were visited by their wives and friends almost 
 every day, receiving abundance of food and tobacco from 
 outside, and enjoying themselves in the most approved style 
 of Irish comfort. But the Philosopher had the misfortune 
 to be an American, and that will account for the churlish 
 manner in which he was treated. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BABTILE. 37 
 
 As an instance of the partiality which is shown to 
 foreigners and rogues, we will mention the case of a young 
 Irishman who was imprisoned among the "ten day men" 
 for getting drunk. This fellow, we understand, is the 
 proprietor of a. low groggery, brothel and thieves' crib, in 
 some obscure part of the city. He has served out a dozen 
 ten day sentences in the Tombs, which place has no horrors 
 for him, for he lives luxuriously within its walls, while better 
 men are starving. This young Irishman, who aspired to 
 be a sort of aristocrat and dandy, was continually washing 
 himself and making his toilet, dressing himself for the 
 afternoon's " promenade " with the most scrupulous care, 
 and assuming all the airs of a fashionable Mick. As an 
 acknowledgement of his superior rascality, he was permitted 
 to wander all about the prison at pleasure ; and he lived 
 high in the kitchen on extra dainties. Another fellow, 
 having the appearance of a dandy " swell," being sent down 
 fqr ten days — for drunkenness, probably — was considered 
 too aristocratic to be placed among the vulgar herd ; and 
 so he was turned out to graze wherever he chose to go, not 
 being confined within the enclosure guarded by the iron 
 fence. This puppy, wearing his white Kossuth hat, and 
 fancy summer coat, would stand off and view the cooped- 
 up prisoners with the air of a Russian despot contemplating 
 his serfs. The Philosopher was more than once tempted to 
 " plug " him in the eye with a ball of rice ;— but the dandy 
 never approached sufficiently near to admit of such a playful 
 reproof with reference to Ms vanity. 
 
 And so it is ; — the biggest rascals, and the most con- 
 temptible " swabs," are used with indulgence, while the 
 unpretending honest man, who never in his life wronged a 
 fellow-being, is treated with the most unrelenting severity, 
 denied the enjoyment of the smallest privilege, and cut off 
 
 \ 
 
38 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 from all communication with his friends, so that he becomes 
 within those wall's as hopeless an exile from society as 
 though he were living in the heart of the great African 
 desert of Sahara. 
 
 Early in the afternoon of the Philosopher's first day in 
 the Tombs, rain began to descend in torents from a sky so 
 dark and threatening, that " all hands" were led to antici- 
 pate a protracted storm. 
 
 "This is devilish pleasant," muttered our friend, as he 
 vigorously puffed a short pipe which had been kindly lent 
 him by a gentleman in the yard — for there were two or 
 three persons among the prisoners who deserved to be cal- 
 led gentlemen — " devilish pleasant ! I am without a coat, 
 and the rain is soaking me to the skin 1 And yet I will 
 not seek shelter in that shanty, for the smell there is awful, 
 to say nothing of the ' live stock' that swarm there. 
 Well, I must grin and bear it ! There is one consolation, 
 however — I am so very wet that I cannot possibly get any 
 wetter. That's what I call true philosophy." 
 
 Our friend fell into conversation with a young man of 
 genteel appearance, who was quite intelligent. He had 
 been in prison several days, and related the following inci- 
 dent which had occured on the previous day : — 
 
 " Yesterday," said he — " a drunken man was brought 
 into the yard, and he began to make a noise, as a drunken 
 man is very apt to do. One of those negro scoundrels who 
 have the control over this department of the prison — al- 
 though they are, or have been, prisoners themselves — took 
 hold of the man roughly, for the purpose of silencing him 
 — the drunken man resisted — a scuffle ensued — and the 
 negro knocked the white man down, with great violence. 
 The poor fellow was severely injured, and could not get up. 
 One of the regular keepers now appeared, and demanded 
 
 I 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 39 
 
 the cause of the disturbance ; upon being made acquaint- 
 ed with the state of affairs, the worthy and humane officer 
 became furious against the white man who had been knock- 
 ed down by the negro, and who still remained prostrate 
 upon the ground. Approaching the unfortunate victim of 
 a black ruffian's brutal violence, the keeper kicked him re- 
 peatedly in the face, brusing him in the most horrible man- 
 ner, while the other prisoners stood and looked on with 
 shuddering fear. Having sufficiently gratified his malignity 
 the keeper directed the negro to drag the injured man into 
 a cell. This order was obeyed with alacrity by the black 
 demon, who seized the victim by the heels, and literally 
 dragged him through the yard to a cell in the prison, the 
 poor man's head coming in violent contact with the rough 
 stones, thus receiving additional injurys. Now, sir," re- 
 marked the speaker, emphatically — " the man may possibly 
 die in consequence of that cruel treatment ; if he does, a 
 Coroner and jury will stand over his murdered corpse, and 
 render a verdict that his death has been caused by intem- 
 perance ! And that will be all about it. Who knows how 
 many men are deliberately killed within these impenetrable 
 walls 1 " 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Philosopher, sadly—" these things are 
 frightful, and would be incredible, were they not seen al- 
 most daily. How little do people outside these walls sus- 
 pect the existence of such enormities ! If the public knew 
 the precise state of affairs here, what a storm of popular 
 indignation would be hurled against this pile of granite, 
 which is in reality a monument of cruelty and injustice ! 
 If God spares my life, my health and my intellect, I shall, 
 immediately on my discharge from this place, prepare to 
 make all these iniquities known to the world. Any man 
 has a right to allude to a public evil ; — and the public 
 
40 
 
 TEN DATS IN THE TOMBS ! OE, 
 
 have a right to know in what manner their paid servants 
 perforin the duties confided to them. The barbaric age is 
 past when men could with impunity be made the victims of 
 atrocious cruelties. This is an age of refinement, humani- 
 ty and civilization. No man has a right to totally crush 
 and destroy his erring brother, who has simply been guilty 
 of an offence against himself, not against the community. 
 People will not — public sentiment will not — -Justice will not 
 tolerate the infliction of torments such as existed in the 
 days of the Inquisition. I will trumpet these outrages to 
 four winds of Heaven ! I will open the sealed book, and 
 read aloud its accursed contents. I thought myself well 
 posted up in everything belonging to city life ; but I was 
 a fool, for these things, which I never dreamed of before, 
 both astonish and appall me ! " 
 
 Having thus given indignant expression to his excited 
 feelings, the Philosopher retired to take a drink — of water. 
 
 The day passed slowly and wearily. At frequent inter- 
 vals, the rain came down in a perfect flood, contributing in 
 no small degree to the gloom and horror that prevailed. 
 At four o'clock in the afternoon, a second nauseous dose of 
 tasteless rice was served out to the men ; and then was 
 repeated the scene of the morning, already described. 
 Afterwards, as usual, the prison thieves appeared, laden 
 with stolen provisions from the kitchen. Those of the 
 prisoners who had money, purchased bread, meat and soup ; 
 those who were destitute of means, looked on with famish- 
 ed eyes — and starved. 
 
 " I have always been an honest man," said one poor fel- 
 low, who had become frightful emaciated after a confine- 
 ment of eight or nine days—" but there are ten chances to 
 one that I shall now become a thief and a rogue. It is 
 better to come here for stealing than for drunkenness, be- 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 I 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN EASTILE. 
 
 ■11 
 
 cause a thief is pretty well fed, while a man sentenced for 
 drinking- is almost starved to death. Look at me! When 
 I first came in here, I was strong and hearty — able to work 
 and support myself and my family. Nino what, am I ? A 
 mere skeleton — weak as a child. When I go out, I shall 
 not be able to work ; I will not beg, and I fear that I shall 
 have to become a thief ! " 
 
 " Yes, that's the best plan ! " responded a chorus of 
 voices — •" a drunkard has no chance for his life, but a thief 
 is treated like a prince ! Robbery and murder forever ! " 
 
 Thus does the barbarous usage of the " ten day men" in 
 the Tombs, by inspiring the victims with a consciousness of 
 their wrongs and a spirit of revenge, arm them against so- 
 ciety, making them enemies to law and order, preparing 
 them to become criminals, and converting comparatively 
 harmless men into a class of dangerous reprobates. 
 
 If the severity of the punishment is designed to effect a 
 Preformation in the habits of the drunkard, it falls far short 
 of its object. And not that alone : — it embitters his soul 
 against law in any shape ; he fancies that he sees a prac- 
 tical realization of the harsh (but too often true) old 
 adage that " there is one law for the rich, and another for 
 the poor." He regards the law, together with all its min- 
 isters and agents, as his natural enemies ; hr says to him- 
 self — " the world owes me a living, and I am bound to 
 have it, somehow or" other." His only care then is, not to 
 avoid crime, but to perpetrate it without detection. He laughs 
 in his sleeve whenever he manages to cheat Justice — and, 
 when he is so unfortunate as to bo arrested, he comforts 
 himself with this reflection — " I am at all events better off 
 than if I had been taken up merely for being drunk ; in the 
 latter case I should be starved--but now I shall get plenty 
 tJeat!" 
 
42 
 
 TEN DAYS IN TUB TOMBS : OE, 
 
 Thus is a premium awarded to crime ; and thus do men 
 go into the Tombs with honesty in their hearts, and come 
 out with desperation in their souls and black crimes woven 
 in with all their after purposes. 
 
 Let those gentlemen who have, or should have, official 
 control over those matters, go and investigate for themselves 
 — let them repair to the prison yard, and question the 
 wretched inmates — let them make their visit suddenly, and 
 without any previous announcement, so that no extra pre- 
 parations may be made to conceal the usual condition of 
 affairs — let them, if convenient, (and it is their place and 
 duty to make it convenient,) so time their visits that they 
 may be present during the serving out of a meal — let them 
 examine into the nefarious business of selling prison food— 
 let them ascertain by what authority negro convicts are al- 
 lowed to use white men worse than dogs — let them, in 
 short, thoroughly acquaint themselves with every arrange- 
 ment connected with the " ten day" department of the 
 prison. Then let them, as honest men and faithful public 
 servants, correct the glaring evils that exist, and relieve 
 themselves from the dishonorable imputation of being 
 neglectful of their duties. 
 
 If the publication of the stubborn facts contained in this 
 little work, should fortunately be the means of ameliorat- 
 ing the condition and bettering the usage of the " ten day" 
 prisoners in the Tombs, then the object of the author will 
 have been fully accomplished. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 43 
 
 PART FIFTH. 
 
 The Gallows, and various incidents connected with the 
 past History of the Tombs, beginning with the case 
 of John C. Colt, the murderer of Adams. 
 
 In the yard occupied by the " ten day men," the gallows 
 is erected whenever a criminal is to be executed. The ter- 
 rible machine, which has been the instrument that has ush- 
 ered many human beings into eternity, is kept within the 
 prison, constantly ready for use. It can be put up within a 
 very short space of time. Two stout iron staples in the 
 walls, directly opposite each other, support the hideous ap- 
 paratus. The last criminal, we believe, who was strangled 
 according to law in that yard, was named James L. Hoare, 
 convicted of the murder of his paramour. He was some- 
 what extensively engaged in the liquor business, being the 
 proprietor of several establishments in different parts of the 
 city. We lately saw his name on a sign over the door of 
 an old rookery in Orange street. The Philosopher sat 
 down to smoke his pipe upon the very flag- stone on which 
 had stood the wretched culprit, just as he was about to be 
 jerked up into the air. The whole scene appeared visible to 
 the mental gaze of our friend — the pale, doomed man who 
 was so soon to become a lifeless corpse — the praying clergy- 
 man j — the pitying and awe-struck spectators — and, towering 
 high above all, like the gateway of Hell, the black and 
 frowning scaffold ! 
 
 Yes, that yard has witnessed many a frightful scene of 
 death by the rope of the hangman. It is not my purpose 
 here to discuss the long agitated question — " Is capital pun- 
 
 1 
 
 \ 
 
4A 
 
 TKN DAYS TS THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 ishment right or wrong 1" But dismissing all moral con- 
 siderations, and viewing the subject simply in its physical 
 aspect, is it not profoundly terrible that a man should be 
 deliberately strangled and put to death, while other men 
 look calmly on and approve of the ghastly deed ? 
 
 It is very evident that general public sentiment is gra- 
 dually but surely beginning to condemn the infliction of the 
 " extreme penalty of the law," even in cases of premedi- 
 tated murder. A life-long imprisonment at hard labor is 
 thought to be a punishment as severe as that of death itself. 
 Humane and enlightened Governors are generally willing to 
 commute sentences of death to imprisonment for life ; and 
 I think that the day is not very far distant when executions 
 will be comparatively unknown. 
 
 But that there are many wretches in this community who 
 deserve to be hung as high as Hainan, is a fact that few 
 persons will venture to dispute. In fact, hanging would be 
 too good for certain worthies that I know of. 
 
 One of the most remarkable and tragical occurrences 
 that ever took place within the walls of the Tombs, was 
 the suicide of J ohn C. Colt, condemned to the gallows for 
 the murder of Adams. This bloody tragedy happened is 
 the year 1841. New Yorkers generally will remember the 
 particulars of the affair ; but, for the benefit of non-resi- 
 dents and my younger readers, I will give a brief account 
 of it. 
 
 John C. Colt, a professor of book-keeping, kept an office 
 in Broadway. It appears that he owed one Adams, a 
 master printer, a few hundred dollars for work performed. 
 Adams pressed Colt for the money, but the latter, being 
 probably in somewhat embarrassed circumstances, could 
 not or would not liquidate the claim. Both parties were 
 very nervous and irritable men. When the trial came, on, 
 
 f 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN liASTILE. 
 
 4:5 
 
 the evidence went to establish the following facts : — One 
 day, late in the afternoon, the creditor called upon the 
 debtor and demanded his money, accompanying his demands 
 with harsh words and threats. Colt retorted with bitter- 
 ness — a struggle ensued — Colt, who was getting the worst 
 of it, felt his hand came in contact with the handle of a 
 hatchet that was used to nail up packing boxes. Urged to 
 desperation and madness, Colt slew his antagonist with one 
 blow of this weapon. The floor was deluged with the vic- 
 tim's blood. Calm but terrible reflection succeeded the 
 tempest of passion, in the breast of the murderer. To con- 
 ceal the body and efface every vestige of the dead, was 
 his first impulse. But how was this to be done ? Apian, 
 which seemed feasible, suggested itself to the mind of the 
 unhappy man. He dragged an empty packing-box into 
 the middle of the floor, and tried to force the body of 
 Adams into it. This he accomplished with much difficulty, 
 on account of the smallness of the box ; and he was obliged 
 to place the corpse in a doubled-up position, binding it down 
 with strong cords. Then he nailed on the cover of the box, 
 after which he applied himself to the task of removing the 
 blood that covered the floor. How he passed that night 
 I do not remember ; but it must have been to him a season 
 of intense mental torment and physic:^ fear. In the morn- 
 ing having all his plaits arranged, he directed the box to 
 some business firm in a distant port ; then he engaged a 
 carman to carry the horrible burden down to a vessel called 
 the Kalamazoo, just about to sail. The box was received 
 on board and stowed away among the other freight without 
 any suspicion being aroused as to its contents. Meanwhile 
 Adams was missed — his family and friends became alarmed 
 — and a reward was offered for any information which 
 might be furnished concerning him. Adams was traced to 
 
46 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OR, 
 
 Colt's office — a box had been seen coming out of that office 
 — the carman was found who carried the box down to the 
 vessel — the vessel was detained from sailing, and the box 
 was brought up from the hold and opened. There was the 
 ghastly corpse of the murdered Adams, infecting the air 
 with a loathsome effluvia. Colt was arrested, and the 
 greatest excitement prevailed throughout the entire com- 
 munity in relation to an affair so peculiarly horrible in all 
 its details. Both the murderer and his victim were men 
 occupying respectable positions in society, which rendered 
 the matter more distressing than if they had belonged t? a 
 degraded class. This case was similar in many respects to 
 the murder of Doctor Parkman, by Professor Webster, in 
 Boston, several years ago. 
 
 Colt was tried, convicted, and sentenced to be hung. 
 Every effort was made to procure his pardon — or, at least, 
 a commutation of his sentence ; but Gov. Seward, who then 
 occupied the State executive chair, considered it his duty 
 to refuse the solicited clemency. 
 
 It is confidently asserted that an attempt was made to 
 bribe Sheriff Hart, by the offer of $30,000, which sum was 
 to be paid him on condition that he would connive at the 
 escape of Colt. But the Sheriff was not to be corrupted, 
 and this villanous effort cheat to Justice, failed. 
 
 Colt, while in prison, and a very short time prior to the 
 day assigned for his execution, was united in marriage to a 
 female with whom he had been living on terms of illicit in- 
 tercourse. This was done with a view to the preservation 
 of the woman's reputation ; but how her character was to 
 be improved by her matrimonial union with a condemned 
 murderer, is a problem which might take some of our wise 
 ones to solve. 
 
 The day appointed for the execution of Colt, arrived. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 47 
 
 The whole city was in a state of excitement ; a dense crowd 
 assembled on the outside of the Tombs, as it' their eyes 
 could penetrate through the thick walls and behold the last 
 sad act of the terrible tragedy. All the house-tops in the 
 neighborhood of the prison, were covered with people, anx- 
 ious, if possible, to look down upon the scene. Multitudes 
 applied for admission into the Tombs, for they felt a mor- 
 bid desire to see a fellow-being strangled to death. They 
 longed to see the palpitating body swinging at the end of 
 the rope — they thirsted to behold the agonizing death-strug- 
 gle — they were curious to observe the appearance of a man 
 who had been hung. The majority of these cold-blooded 
 wretches were very properly refused admission. This was 
 right, because, in my opinion, the execution of a criminal is 
 too solemn an affair to be converted into a mere public ex- 
 hibition for the amusement of an unthinking and brutal 
 rabble. 
 
 Colt was about to be led forth from his cell and conduct- 
 ed to the gallows in the yard, when, to the consternation of 
 everybody both inside and outside of the prison, it was dis- 
 covered that the cupola of the Tombs was in flames ! I 
 believe it was never definitely ascertained how that fire 
 originated. But that it should have broken out just at that 
 critical moment, was a singular circumstance that gave rise 
 to many grave suspicions, which, even at the present day, 
 have changed into almost certainties. 
 
 The fire having been extinguished, Colt's cell was enter- 
 ed, and the wretched man was found lying dead upon his 
 bed, with a dirk-knife or dagger sticking in his breast and 
 penetrating his heart. 
 
 Now, many people roundly assert, and are willing to take 
 their Bible oaths, that the dead body found in the cell of 
 Colt, was not the body of Colt himself, but of some other 
 
 f 
 
48 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 person who had died a short time previously, and who very 
 closely resembled the condemned murderer. Here is the 
 hypothesis advanced and sustained by these unbelievers, and 
 the reader will agree with me in the opinion that there is 
 nothing so very absurd in their assertions, after all : — 
 
 " The business was all arranged beforehand," say the un- 
 believers. " Money was circulated profusely by the friends 
 of Colt — and money will do everything. It will control 
 an election, and it will rescue a murderer from the gallows. 
 The cupola of the Tombs was set on fire for the express 
 purpose of distracting and drawing away the attention of 
 the officers from Colt, who of course knew the game that 
 was being played for his benefit. During the wild confu- 
 sion produced by the fire, a dead body, which had been pre- 
 viously in readiness, and which had been procured on ac- 
 count of its extraordinary resemblance to Colt, was smug- 
 gled into the cell of the condemned man, and placed upon 
 the bed, with the weapon sticking in the breast. Colt was 
 then enveloped in a cloak and conducted out of the prison. 
 A carriage was near, ready to receive him. He and a few 
 friends entered the vehicle, and were driven rapidly away. 
 The mass of the people swallowed the deception, and be- 
 lieved that Colt had committed suicide in his cell, by stab- 
 bing himself through the heart. But the knowing ones 
 knew better ; and many persons in distant parts of the 
 country have seen John C. Colt alive and well. Why, 
 even a physician, who knew Colt personally, and who ex- 
 amined the dead body in the cell, gave it as his decided 
 opinion that it was not the body of the veritable John C. 
 Colt ! " 
 
 I have neither time nor space to enlarge upon the past 
 mysteries of the Tombs, which would, if narrated in full, 
 fill several large volumes. I may, at some future time, 
 
 \ 
 i 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 40 
 
 compile and write a standard History of this celebrated 
 prison, which will combine the charm of Romance with the 
 tough solidity of Fact. At present, however, (if I may 
 he permitted to employ a homely but expressive piscatory 
 liguc of speech,) I have "got other fish to fry." 
 
 A circumstance has just flashed across my memory, which 
 I cannot avoid relating here : — 
 
 The Convict's Escape. 
 
 Escapes from the Tombs have been very rare; and the 
 few which have taken place have been very well done. 
 (Pardon me, reader, for such an atrocious culinary pun.) 
 If a prisoner escapes, it must be by stratagem and address ; 
 it being next to impossible for him to break out by force. 
 There are no iron bars to saw or file ; and he could no more 
 crowd himself through the narrow chink, high up in the wall, 
 which admits limited quantities of light and air, than a " cam- 
 el could pass through the eye of a needle." (There's a Scrip- 
 tural quotation for you, at all events. ) The prisoner is shut 
 in by two massive iron doors ; a watchman promenades the 
 hall and corridors all night long — and, therefore, a captive 
 has a very small " sight" in the way of gaining his liberty 
 by coercive means. 
 
 Some ten years ago, I happened to be a spectator in the 
 Court of Sessions, during the trial of two noted English 
 pickpockets known as " Long Doctor " and Fitzsimmons. 
 Both these gentlemen had gained great celebrity in their 
 profession, having graduated from Botany Bay with the 
 highest honors. Taking an early walk one morning in 
 Washington Market, for the benefit of their health, these 
 worthy associates in business saw an old gentleman placing 
 some money in his pocket-book, which latter article he 
 deposited in his pocket. The old gentlemen was Mr. 
 
 i 
 
50 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 Lorillard, a wealthy tobacconist. Fitzsimmons and his 
 associate, the " Lengthy Physician," twigged the move- 
 ments of the worthy dealer in " fine cut," and resolved if 
 possible to possess his pile. Accordingly, the Long Doctor 
 stumbled against the old gentleman, as if by accident, 
 while Fitzsimmons adroitly extracted the pocket-book and 
 made off. But the act was witnessed by a police officer, 
 who probably enjoyed the honor of a personal acquaintance 
 with both the chevaliers d'induslrie. This officer succeeded 
 in capturing the light-fingered gentlemen, who were promptly 
 accommodated with separate apartments in the Tombs — 
 an establishment with whose internal arrangements they 
 were already well acquainted, although they probably 
 would have preferred taking up their quarters in some other 
 hotel. If I recollect rightly, the pocket-book contained 
 about one hundred dollars. When Messieurs the Long- 
 Doctor and Fitzsimmons were placed on trial, they were 
 convicted in very short order ; and the Recorder, after 
 giving them a very severe lecture, and remarking the pro- 
 voking frequency with which English thieves were brought 
 before him, sentenced them each to the State Prison for 
 five years, at hard labor. Upon receiving this benevolent 
 provision for their future support, instead of feeling grateful, 
 the Long Doctor looked blue, while Fitzsimmons put on an 
 expression of countenance that was particularly savage. 
 But, like a cunning rogue as he was, he said nothing, not 
 relishing the idea of getting an additional year or two for 
 insulting the Court. 
 
 Mr. Fitzsimmons occupied the same cell with an individual 
 named Shaw, charged with having been engaged in some sort 
 of swindling operation. His trial had not yet taken place. 
 
 " D — n it I" exclaimed Fitzsimmons, as he lighted a 
 cigar and strode restlessly about the cell — "in less than an 
 
 1 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 51 
 
 hour from now I shall be hand-cuffed and on my way up 
 the river to Sing Sing. Five years is a devil of a long 
 time, although I passed seven at the penal settlements. 
 But then I was transported from England for something 
 worth while ; — now I am sent up for a petty theft alto- 
 gether unworthy of an accomplished and Celebrated knucki- 
 man* like myself. Blast these Yankees ! — they are too 
 sharp for us London cockneys, any way ! They have eyes 
 like gimlets, which bore right through a crossman,f the 
 moment he tries to do a thing in the way of business. Ah ! 
 give me London as a field for successful operations ! But 
 I became too well known there, and so was obliged to 
 emigrate to America. I wish that I had been shipwrecked 
 at sea, before ever setting foot upon this soil !" 
 
 " Cheer up, old fellow ?" said Shaw, consolingly — " while 
 there's life there's hope, you know. My wife will be here 
 in a few minutes ; she may contrive to smuggle in some 
 liquor, and a horn or two will cheer you up, and enable 
 3 r ou to meet your fate with firmness." 
 
 " Bah !" cried the convict bitterly — " I had rather be 
 hung than to go up to Sing Sing for five years !" 
 
 In a few minutes the wife of Shaw arrived, with a basket 
 containing food and other refreshments for her imprisoned 
 husband. She held in her hand upass ticket. These tickets 
 were given to visiters on their entrance ; when they left, 
 they restored their tickets to the clerk in the office, as a 
 sort of certificate that they were entitled to go out. 
 
 Mrs. Shaw, while conversing with her husband, placed 
 her pass ticket upon a stool. Fitzsimmons saw the act ; a 
 plan for effecting his escape — or, at least, of attempting it — 
 rushed through his mind like a flash of lightning ; he 
 
 * This is a flash word, signifying pickpocket. 
 f Crossman—s. thief. 
 
52 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS ; OK, 
 
 obtained possession of the pass ticket without being 
 observed ; then he brushed up his hair, arranged his cravat, 
 placed a big Bible under his arm, and stepped out of the 
 cell, the door of which had been left unfastened on account 
 of Mrs. Shaw's visit. 
 
 The daring convict was very respectably dressed ; his 
 face was rather a good and comely one, affording no index 
 to his true character. The Bible under his arm looked like 
 a law book ; and he himself might have been taken for a reg- 
 ular Tombs lawyer, or " shyster," as the animal is sometimes 
 called. After all, I doubt if Fitzsimmons was a great deal 
 worse than the tribe of pettifoggers who hang about the 
 Tombs, robbing prisoners by false representations, by 
 promises of services which they never perform, and in 
 numerous other ways, equally despicable and villainous. 
 These vermin, who live by their abuse of the law, should be 
 made to die by the operation of the law. Is it not bad 
 enough for a man to be placed in a position of peril, with- 
 out his being fleeced by a legal knave whose illegal aets 
 entitle him to a worse punishment than is deserved by the 
 unfortunate prisoner whose hopes are raised by false assu- 
 rances — whose family and friends are plundered by an 
 accursed leech, alias lawyer — -and who finally discovers 
 that he has been duped and abandoned to despair and ruin ! 
 
 Oh ! were the power within my grasp, I would crush 
 these " shysters " beneath an avalanche of destruction, so 
 that not one of them should remain to pillage the unfortu- 
 nate, and reflect dishonor upon a profession which should 
 be noble and above reproach ! 
 
 But I must return to Fitzsimmons. Assuming an air of 
 easy confidence, and carelessly humming a fashionable tune, 
 he passed along the corridor, at the end of which, upon a 
 platform extending from one range of cells to another on 
 
A KEY TO THE MODEEN BASTILE. 
 
 :>3 
 
 the opposite side like a bridge, was seated one of the prison- 
 keepers ; this functionary merely glanced at Fitzsimmons, 
 and then resumed the perusal of his newspaper. He did not 
 remember the convict, the Tombs at that time being 
 crammed full of prisoners of every description and class, 
 from the dandy swell " confidence man," down to the feloni- 
 ous purloiner of damp linen from the household clothes-line, 
 when the solemn hour of midnight veils the back-yard be- 
 neath a mantle of gloom, and when prowling cats, 
 like gliding ghosts, assemble in hideous conclave, rending 
 the air with yells of frightful import, reckless of boot-jack.-; 
 and other personal property hurled among them by the 
 hands of sleepless wretchedness, whose curses form a low 
 but emphatic accompaniment to the wild wail of those 
 feline demons! 
 
 Fitzsimmons, who must have possessed an unusual amount 
 of nerve and presence of mind, descended to the hall of the 
 prison, and safely passed the official who was seated at the 
 desk. He boldly crossed the yard and entered the office, 
 where was stationed a person whose duty it was to deli- 
 ver tickets to visitors on entering, and to receive back those 
 tickets when the visitors were about to take their departure. 
 
 The convict entered the office, and with an air of perfect 
 coolness banded over the pass ticket which he had stolen 
 from the unsuspecting Mrs. Shaw. 
 
 A great many visitors were then allowed to pass in ami 
 out of the Tombs. The office-keeper seeing a well-dressed 
 man— apparently a lawyer — with a large volume under his 
 arm, thought it must be ali light although he did not pre- 
 cisely remember the gentleman, whose countenance, however, 
 seemed rather familiar to him. 
 
 " Been in to see one ot the prisoners, I suppose ?" said 
 the office-keeper, civilly. 
 
54 
 
 DAYS IN THE TOMBS: OR, 
 
 "Just so," responded Mr. Fitzsimrnons, in a patronizing 
 manner, as he sauntered towards the door leading out into 
 the street — "but, poor fellow, I don't think that I shall be 
 able to do much for him. His case is bad — very bad in- 
 deed. I'll call again to-morrow, about this time. Good 
 day, sir." 
 
 " Good clay," responded the office-keeper ; and then he 
 said to himself, after the gentleman had taken his departure 
 — " that's a nice sort of a chap. Wonder who he is ? A 
 lawyer, of course, for he had the Revised Statutes under 
 his arm. I don't remember his coming in ; but then there 
 are so many visitors here in the course of the day, that I 
 can't recollect the faces of half of them. However, I've 
 seen that gentleman somewhere before, I'm very certain." 
 
 The worthy but deluded office-keeper was right ; he had 
 seen the gentleman before, in the Court of Sessions up 
 stairs, while he was off duty. But fortunately for Mr. 
 Fitzsimmons, the memory of the office-keeper was rather 
 treacherous. 
 
 It may well be supposed that the English pickpocket did 
 not suffer the grass to grow under his feet, when he found 
 himself on the outside of the Tombs. He did not even stop 
 at the nearest public-house to drink a mug of " 'alf-and- 
 'alf," or to pen a farewell epistle to his less fortunate friend 
 and professional associate, the Long Doctor. No ; — re- 
 garding his own personal safety as being paramount in 
 importance to an observance of the hollow forms of etiquette, 
 Mr. Fitzsimmons " picked up his leathers " with an indus- 
 trious alacrity that soon placed a considerable space of 
 ground between himself and the elegant edifice from which 
 he had so recently emerged. 
 
 Ten minutes had scarcely elapsed after the escape of 
 Fitzsimmons when the fact was discovered by the keepers. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 55 
 
 Then there was the " very devil to pay," and no mistake. 
 The prison was ransacked throughout, but of course the 
 fugitive could not be found. Then the office-keeper was 
 questioned, and the poor man became aware of the fact 
 that a "five year prisoner" had bamboozled him and 
 escaped ! 
 
 The whole thing was plain enough then. Mrs. Shaw, 
 whose pass ticket had enabled the convict to regain his 
 liberty, was severely reprimanded and turned out of the 
 prison, after being told that she could not be permitted to 
 see her husband again. Thus was the poor woman unjustly 
 blamed for an event which was the result of carelessness on 
 the part of the prison officers themselves. Mr. Shaw was 
 also harshly treated and denied many little privileges which 
 he had previously enjoyed. 
 
 Instant and vigorous pursuit was instantly made after 
 the absconding prisoner. He was traced down to one of 
 the Brooklyn ferries, over which he had crossed. He was 
 closely followed through a portion of Long Island, but at 
 last the officers were thrown entirely off the scent, for Fitz- 
 simmons had probably contrived to change his garments, 
 and had returned to New York over one of the upper fer- 
 ries. Doubtless he had some secure place of refuge in which 
 to conceal himself ; at all events, he was never retaken. His 
 " pal," the Long Doctor, was obliged to perform his five 
 years' pilgrimage to Sing Sing " solitary and alone." The 
 Doctor, after serving out his time, has since figured con- 
 spicuously in several criminal transactions ; and, I believe, 
 he is even now " doing the State some service " for his 
 participation in some extensive operation contrary to law. 
 
 I have related this incident as being identified with the 
 history of the Tombs, and also in the hope that it might 
 prove interesting to the reader, as illustrating an unusual 
 degree of ingenuity, coolness and courage. 
 
56 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OR, 
 
 Here is another extraordinary affair, which I well re- 
 member, and which will doubtless be recollected by thou- 
 sands of the middle-aged inhabitants of New York : — 
 
 The Man Monster. 
 
 The following circumstances occurred some twelve or fif- 
 teen years ago, and great was the excitement produced at 
 the time. The affair was a peculiarly repulsive one through- 
 out ; but, in adverting to it, I shall avoid offending the 
 reader's delicacy by refraining from the employment of a 
 single objectionable expression. 
 
 One evening, a master mason — a man in comfortable cir- 
 cumstances, and of reputed respectability — while on his 
 way home from his place of business, encountered what 
 seemed to be a very comely colored girl, who looked like a 
 servant that had just stepped out of the house on some 
 errand. The gentleman, who considered himself a " man 
 of gallantry," a,nd who was not influenced" by any foolish 
 prejudices against color, accosted the girl, and she answer- 
 ed in a manner calculated to inspire him with the hope that 
 he had " made a conquest." Retiring into an obscure 
 place, the pair engaged in conversation ; and soon after the 
 gentleman had taken his leave, he discovered that he had 
 been relieved of his wallet containing a sum of money not 
 far short of one hundred dollars. Now, any wise man 
 would have said nothing about the matter, and preserved 
 his character ; but the master mason valued his money 
 more than his reputation, and he therefore caused the ar- 
 rest of his new acquaintance, who gave the name of Mary 
 Jones, and on whose person was found the stolen money. 
 " Mary Jones " was brought to trial, and convicted on the 
 clearest testimony, while the master mason had the satis- 
 faction of receiving back his money, and of knowing that 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 57 
 
 he had rendered himself an object of public ridicule and 
 contempt. But now a startling scene in the comedy was 
 displayed, creating universal astonishment. "When " Mary 
 Jones " was brought out for sentence, she announced that 
 she was a man '. This was subsequently found out to be a 
 fad. The real name of the " Man Monster," (as he was 
 called,) was Peter Sewalley, a negro from one of the West 
 India Islands. He was in the habit of disguising himself 
 as a woman, in order the more successfully to carry out his 
 schemes of robbery. He was an accomplished jscoundrel, 
 playing his assumed part to perfection, and artfully imita- 
 ting the voice, manners, &c., of a female. As he could 
 not be sentenced as Mary Jones, a new indictment was 
 framed, a new trial took place, a second conviction was had 
 and Mr. Peter Sewally went up to Sing Sing for the term 
 of live years. What ever became of the master mason, 
 was never known to a certainty ; but it has been hiuted 
 that he committed suicide, on account of the shame he ex- 
 perienced in consequence of having been involved in an af- 
 fair so inexpressibly disgraceful. 
 
 A residence of live years at Sing Sing did not, it seems, 
 cure Mr. Sewalley of his peculiar propensities ; for, as soon 
 as he was discharged, at the expiration of his sentence, he 
 resumed his former career of robbery in female disguise. Re- 
 peated tripsto Blaekwell's Island did not induce him to mend 
 his ways; and the "Man Monster" is still supposed to be ply- 
 ing his infernal vocation in the very midst of an unsuspect- 
 ing community. 
 
 A Considerate Judge. 
 
 What New Yorker does not remember "old Dickey Ri- 
 ker," formerly Recorder of the city ? He was alike re- 
 remarkable for his numerous eccentricities, and for the un- 
 
58 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 relenting severity with which he sentenced the unhappy 
 prisoners, who were brought before him. He was always 
 sure to favor a delinquent with the " full extent of the law." 
 He had one standard and stereotyped speech, which he al- 
 ways used, and which was pretty much as follows : — " Pri- 
 soner, this stealing of door-mats has got to be a very 
 prevalent crime in this community. You must suffer some. 
 But, in consideration of your youth, and the fact that you 
 never were brought here before, I will give you merely the 
 extent of the law, which is seven years in the State Prison 
 for the crime of house-robbery — and may the Lord have 
 mercy upon your soul !" 
 
 Recorder Hiker once had a " hard case" before him iu 
 the shape of an old burglar, sixty years of age, who had 
 been convicted on ten different indictments. " Prisoner," 
 said old Piker, mildly — " you have been found guilty of ten 
 different burglaries. Now, burglary is a very bad crime, 
 and too much practised in this community. You must suf- 
 fer some. However, I am not disposed to be too severe 
 with you ; therefore, I shall merely send you to the State 
 Prison for ten years on each separate indictment — making 
 one hundred years in all — and, when you come out, I trust 
 that you may become a good member of society !" 
 
 It is to be hoped that the old burglar, who will be only 
 one hundred and sixty years of age when he comes out, will 
 not resume his wicked career, but devote the remainder of 
 his life to honesty and virtue ! 
 
 " Old Dickey Hiker " lias long since been laid under the 
 sod. We hope the Great Judge, before whom he must 
 finally appear, will show him more mercy than he was 
 disposed to grant to his fellow creatures here below. 
 
 " Mercy ; s like the gonMe dew from heaven, 
 Twice blessed. " 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 59 
 
 Here, for the present, endetli our historical reminiscences 
 of the Tombs. We now resume the relation of the Fat 
 Philosopher's personal experience. 
 
 PART SIXTH. 
 
 THE SLEEPING ACCOMMODATIONS RELIGIOUS EXERCISES ON 
 
 THE SABBATH LEWIS BAKER " AT HOME." 
 
 At about six o'clock in the evening, one of the "niggers" 
 unlocked the gate of the yard, and bawled out — " Turn 
 in ! turn in ! " This was the signal for the human cattle 
 to repair to their quarters for the night. A tremendous 
 rush was instantly made by the poor wretches, each one 
 being anxious to get ahead of his neighbor, so as to secure 
 the best place possible. Some of the men slept in the pri- 
 son building itself ; some huddled into a new and unfinished 
 " station-house ;" while others passed the night in several 
 " sky parlors" which had been designed for the accommoda- 
 tion of witnesses. These last named quarters were the 
 best and most comfortable ; and, as a majority of the " ten 
 day men" exhibited a preference for them, the niggers, of 
 course, just out of obstinacy, permitted as few persons to 
 go to them as possible, preferring to crowd their white 
 slaves into the dark, damp and unwholesome cells below. 
 The black scoundrels, scattering themselves about the yard, 
 ordered the men to go here and there, and that in tones of 
 such outrageous and infernal insolence, that the blood of 
 the Fat Philosopher boiled in his veins, for he has been 
 South, and once owned a nigger worth twenty filthy baboons 
 like those who act as officers in the Tombs. Our friend took 
 up his quarters for the night in one of the prison cells, 
 which he was glad to share with four or five respectable 
 young men, who, like himself, were desirous of avoiding all 
 
60 TEN DATS 'IN THE TOMES : OK, 
 
 contact with the degraded portion of the "ten day" 
 prisoners. 
 
 The sleeping accommodations were simple in the extreme. 
 A board, elevated to a height of two or three inches from 
 the floor, served as a pillow for all hands ; while the floor 
 itself constituted the bed. Not a single vestige of blan- 
 ket, or anything of the kind, was to be seen ; and, as the 
 floor had been very recently washed, and was consequently 
 very wet, it may well be imagined that all the arrangements 
 were quite cool and comfortable. It is true that such a 
 couch might be productive of rheumatism, and other perma- 
 nent physical evils ; but what right have such outrageous 
 malefactors as drunkards to expect luxuries ? None at all. 
 Let men rob and murder if they wish to be treated like 
 human beings in the Tombs ! 
 
 Falstaff and his new friends — all partners in misfortune 
 — passed the night as sociably and as agreeably as possible. 
 They played cards until the deep gloom of night rendered 
 it impossible for them to sec the spots ; then they natural- 
 ly began to comment on the hardness of their lot, and the 
 unjust severity of their punishment for an offence (drunk- 
 enness,) daily perpetrated by honorable judges upon the 
 bench, by " wealthy and respectable citizens," and by the 
 very men who were the authors of such outrageous 
 tyranuy. 
 
 The Philosopher, who was the only American present, 
 could not speak in the defence of his country's reputation, 
 when an Englishman sneered at this " land of liberty." 
 No — an American must be dumb when a foreigner speaks 
 in terms of bitter sarcasm of our boasted freedom, for there 
 looms up the damning fact that citizens of the Republic 
 are deprived of their liberty and used like brutes, for doing 
 that which is not crime, but merely an error requiring a 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 61 
 
 punishment, the slightest which the law can possibly in- 
 flict. 
 
 " Things are managed much better in London, and in 
 other large cities of England," remarked one of the com- 
 pany. " There, when a man goes along the streets in a 
 state of incoxication, provided he is quiet and molests no- 
 body, and is capable of going home without assistance, he 
 is not interfered with. If he is too drunk to navigate com- 
 fortably, and yet able to tell his name and place of resi- 
 dence, he is taken charge of by a policeman, who conducts 
 the inebriated gentleman to the end of his beat. Then he 
 hands over his charge to the next policeman, who is made 
 acquainted with the gentleman's name and place of abode. 
 The second policeman hands him over to a third, and so on, 
 until the drunken man is deposited at his own door, and is 
 taken care of by his own people. Is not this system a better 
 and more humane one, than that of thrusting a man into a 
 vile prison for the term of ten days, because he cannot pay 
 ten dollars ? In the old country, even if a drunken man 
 is obliged to be conveyed to the watch-house he is seldom 
 fined more than five shillings in the morning, which is ten 
 shillings of your American money. Excuse me, sir, for 
 speaking disrespectfully of your native land — but don't 
 talk to me of American liberty. There is more real liberty 
 enjoyed by Ike poorer classes of England, than falls to the lot 
 of American citizens, with all there boasted independence !" 
 
 The Philosopher has seen the day when such an assertion, 
 made by an Englishman or foreigner of any kind, would 
 have enraged him and perhaps produced a " mus." But, 
 upon the present occasion, he had nothing to say. He could 
 not deny the accursed fact that white men, under the ope- 
 ration of an unjust law, were in that very den made the 
 slaves of negroes, whose black faces where not half so black 
 
62 . TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 as the diabolical crimes which they had perpetrated, and 
 which had, seemingly, secured their promotion to office ! 
 
 One of the Philosopher's companions had been particu- 
 larly unfortunate. He had been engaged to go to Panama, 
 to act as clerk or book-keeper, we believe. 
 
 "These ten days will be the ruin of me," said the poor 
 fellow, with a deep sigh—" the vessel in which I was to 
 go, will sail before my time is out ; thus I shall lose my 
 chance. When I am discharged from here, I shall be home- 
 less, friendless and entirely destitute, for I am a stranger 
 in the city, and know not a single soul. Heaven only 
 knows what is to become of me I" 
 
 The Philosopher has several times met this unhappy man 
 in the street, lately. He is indeed " homeless, friendless 
 and entirely destitute." No employment can he get, and 
 he lacks the common necessaries of life — going for days at 
 a time without tasting food, and wandering all night about 
 the streets, or snatching a few moments' sleep it some entry 
 or out-house. Must not this be a most terrible condition for 
 a man to be placed in — a man, too, of education, having 
 respectable connections, (in England,) and accustomed to 
 all the comforts, the refinements and the luxuries of life ! 
 Say, you wise law-makers, * how much have you benefitted 
 this poor man by your " ten-day" argument ? Your Satanic 
 severity has changed a gentleman into an outcast and a 
 vagrant — your infernal cruelty has crushed and broken a 
 gentle spirit, and made him a moody, moping thing, with 
 hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, and a heart in which black 
 Despair has taken up its abode. Ah, ye wise Dogberrys, 
 
 * The author does not by any means blame the magistrates, for their duty com 
 pels them to carry out the "ten-day law." He alludes to the legislators who 
 enacted that law. Many of the magistrates, doubtless, disapprove of the law 
 in toto. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 63 
 
 who wag your sapient heads and enact laws for the refor- 
 mation of existing evils, look how ye have reformed that 
 poor man, who sits from day to day on the steps of the 
 Hall of Records in the Park, and wonders why this is 
 called a Christian land — a land of benevolence and free- 
 dom ! 
 
 Suppose, for instance, that a man, placed in a situation 
 similar to that of the person just described, and urged to 
 desperation by the pangs of hunger, and the common wants 
 of human nature, should arm himself against society and 
 become a thief, a burglar, or highway robber — to whom 
 might all the blame with propriety be attributed — to the 
 man himself, reduced to despair by injustice and oppression 
 — or to that law, which has deprived the man of his only 
 means of support, which has shaken his principles of hones- 
 ty, and forced him into a career of crime, because he knew 
 not otherwise how to avoid perishing in the streets of ab- 
 solute want ? 
 
 We respect and revere the laws — we know that their 
 enforcement constitutes the bulwark of our national and 
 individual safety — but we deplore the existence of laws 
 which are obviously unjust — which oppress and injure an 
 innocent portion of the people — and we pray that all such 
 laws may be expunged from our statute books. Look to it, 
 voters ; consider it, legislators. " Let Justice be done, 
 
 THOUGH THE HEAVENS SHOULD FALL I" 
 
 The Philosopher and his friends, having smoked and 
 chatted until they were sleepy, stretched their tired frames 
 upon the hard, damp floor, and went " to sleep, perchance 
 to dream." Soon a nasal solo, in deep bass, gave rise to 
 a sprightly duett between two modern Britons possessing 
 ample receptacles for snuff ; shortly afterwards, a trio, 
 composed of different degrees of intonation, performed 
 
TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OH, 
 
 with surprising vigor and effect ; and, finally, a quartette 
 executed a snoring chorus of such tremendous power, that 
 the guard on the outside, in the hall, came up to the cell-door 
 and demanded what on earth was the matter ? 
 
 Philosophers are but human beings, after all, and must 
 succumb to the ordinary cravings of human nature. 
 Great men have appetites, as well as persons of consequence. 
 Napoleon, while at St. Helena, would often relax from his 
 imperial dignity and the contemplation of his mighty sor- 
 rows, to masticate a dainty mutton-chop, which was, with 
 him, an especial favorite. Byron somewhere says — 
 
 " Man is a carnivorous production, 
 
 And must have meat at least Uiree times a day." 
 
 Now, our Philosopher had eaten nothing during the 
 whole of that day, for he had not yet learned to stomach 
 the rice pudding with gravel sauce. As a natural conse- 
 quence of this compulsory abstemiousness, our friend found 
 himself most cleucedly hungry, and he would not about that 
 time have turned up his nose at a crust of bread or a cold 
 potato. Habitually a good feeder and high liver, he was 
 but poorly prepared to endure the unpleasant process of 
 starvation ; and sadly did he contrast former abundant 
 luxuries with present unsatisfied wants. Visions of savory 
 rump-steaks, (rare done,) with oyster sauce, arose within 
 his excited brain ; reminiscences of high old suppers at 
 Taylor's, haunted him ; and when at last he slept, there 
 danced before him, as if in mockery, a drove of roasted 
 pigs, each one with a knife and fork stuck iu his side, while 
 every juvenile porker squealed out — " Come and eat me ! " 
 Then hundreds of fine fat cattle, all ready cooked, bucked 
 ferociously at the sleeper with their horns, and awakened 
 our friend, who had drawn off his boots, and who discover- 
 ed that several gigantic rats were quietly banqueting upon 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 65 
 
 his toes. These sagacious animals — they, also, seemed to 
 be afflicted with the prevailing epidemic of hunger — retired 
 reluctantly and very slowly when the Philosopher threw his 
 boots at them, although one venerable and gray-headed old 
 fellow — the patriarch of his tribe — received a rap on his 
 canister that made him yelp. They soon returned in large 
 numbers, crawling over the faces of the sleepers, lunching 
 on sundry noses and ears, and making themselves so disa- 
 greeably officious, that the Philosopher was afraid to go to 
 sleep again, apprehending that if he did so, his fleshless 
 bones would be all that would remain of him in the morn- 
 ing. So he kept awake, and after a most weary night, the 
 dim light of the- opening day stole at last into the cell 
 through the narrow aperture in the wall. 
 
 At seven o'clock in the morning, the " ten-day" victims 
 were turned out of their (un)comfortable quarters, and 
 made to resume their daily promenade in the yard, there to 
 remain during the whole day, until again summoned, towards 
 evening, to the kennels in which they slept. The morning 
 of the second day of Falstaff's imprisonment, was dark and 
 rainy ; every face, and every object, wore an aspect of 
 deepest gloom ; men, were weak with hunger, and worn out 
 by want of sleep, — their beards unshaven and their gar- 
 ments soiled and torn to rags, — crouched down in comers, 
 while the rain came down in torrents upon their defenceless 
 heads. The " shanty" was crowded to suffocation, and its 
 odor was like that of a regular pest-house. Wretches 
 whose persons swarmed with loathsome vermin, huddled 
 there, and, with the malignity of friends, derived each 
 other's miseries. Paupers and cripples with ulcerated 
 limbs mingled with the foul throng, and men in the inci- 
 pient stages of delirium tremens babbled incoherently, 
 laughed wildly, and gazed vacantly out of eyes in which 
 would soon gleam the horrid fires of madness ! 
 
06 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 Our friend preferred the open air and the drenching rain 
 to the frightful shelter of that wooden tenement of horrors. 
 When, at last, the rain ceased, and the sun, bursting through 
 the thick black curtains of the storm, gave promise of a 
 fine, clear day, the Philosopher experienced an emotion 
 that was something like cheerfulness. 
 
 At ten o'clock, as usual, came the rice — the breakfast ! 
 " Faugh !" says the Philosopher, whenever he alludes to 
 this portion of his ten clays' experience — " the very mention 
 of that sickening trash, even now, gives ray stomach a vil- 
 lainous twinge !" After breakfast, came the thieves, selling 
 the stolen bread and meat belonging to the prison. After 
 the thieves, came spiritual consolation, in the shape of an 
 old woman distributing tracts. " Here is food for the soul," 
 said the old woman. " We want food for the body," 
 shouted a dozen gaunt and ghastly men. " Seek first the 
 kingdom of Heaven, and all things shall be added unto 
 you," remarked the old woman, who seemed rather to enjoy 
 the joke than otherwise. " We don't want religion — we 
 want bread .'" yelled the mob of starving scare-crows. 
 " Oh !" ejaculated the old woman, whose breath suspiciously 
 suggested thoughts of gin and onions — "don't think so 
 much of earthly things. You must only hunger and thirst 
 after righteousness. Read your Bibles, and taste the bread 
 of life." '■' We'd rather have good baker's bread !" shouted 
 a ragamuffin whom circumstances compelled to trudge 
 through this vale of tears by the aid of a timber leg. The 
 old woman, having " fulfilled her mission," left. This ridic- 
 ulous and wicked mockery was several times repeated, 
 during the Philosopher's stay. The idea of cramming 
 religion down the throats of men who were starving for 
 bread ! 
 
 The physician of the establishment is a very amusing 
 character, indeed. This gentleman won't allow the " ten- 
 
A. KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 or 
 
 day men " to have molasses with their rice, for fear that it 
 might make them sick ! But the criminal prisoners are 
 allowed the sweetening — for, somehow or other, it won't 
 make them sick ! The worthy doctor doesn't want to have 
 too much business on his hands. Once or twice a day he 
 pays a " flying visit" to the yard, looks around, nods pro- 
 foundly, and then leaves in a hurry. Sometimes his atten- 
 tention will be called to a poor wretch almost dying from 
 the effects of intemperance, and needing medical aid. 
 
 " Oh 1" the doctor will probably say, as he glances care- 
 lessly at the sufferer — " lie is all right enough ! I can't do 
 anything for him ! A few days will fetch him around all 
 right ! Now, men, for heaven's sake, don't crowd around 
 me — let me get out of this !" 
 
 This efficient functionary receives, for the performance of 
 such arduous duties as these, a salary of one thousand dollars 
 per annum. He has plenty of time — oh, yes 1 — to attend to 
 outside practice ; and so is able to make a very good thing 
 of it. Of his professional qualifications we know nothing, 
 and care less. He doesn't bother himself much with " ten- 
 day " prisoners, that is very certain. Well, after all, if a 
 man in the drunkards' department docs die in consequence 
 of neglect, what matters it ? Of what account is a " ten- 
 day man," we should like to know ? 
 
 Many prisoners, who have been arrested when very drunk, 
 complain of having lost money, after they have been taken in 
 custody. How the money contrives to disappear, is a 'pro- 
 found mystery. Prisoners have had cash taken from them, 
 for safe keeping, by certain functionaries, and, when they 
 applied to have their money restored, no one knew anything 
 about it. This appears to be a regular, systematic game, 
 with reference to prisoners who may happen to have funds 
 about them. We do not presume to insinuate who are the 
 
68 
 
 TEN DAYS IN TIIK TOMBS : OK, 
 
 thieves ; but the fact itself is a foul disgrace, and demands 
 instant attention. We shall not dwell upon this subject 
 further — for, should we do so, we might inadvertently 
 " tread upon the corns" of certain official gentlemen whose 
 feeling's we would not wound for the whole world ! But, 
 although we say little, we can't help " keeping up a devil 
 of a thinking." 
 
 Our Philosopher passed the next night in one of the 
 " sky parlors," which he found far more comfortable than 
 the cells below. This place, also, was destitute of beds and 
 blankets ; but the floor was dry, and tolerably clean. The 
 " captain" over this " crib " was an Irishman named Riley, 
 who had been a prisoner, and was then staying voluntarily 
 over his time, because he could obtain a better living inside 
 of the prison than out of it. He was a drunken bully, and 
 tried to imitate his nigger associates in his brutal treatment 
 of the men. But his Irish countrymen would not stand it, 
 and he was obliged to relinquish his station as " captain of 
 the sky parlor," out of a regard for his personal safety. 
 The poor wretch led a dog's life after that. Whenever he 
 appeared in the presence of the prisoners in the yard, he 
 was saluted on all sides by 'loud cries of " There goes Riley 
 the bummer !" " Drunken Riley," &c. Further demonstra- 
 tions of regard would also be showered upon Mr. Riley, in 
 the shape of balls of rice, old shoes, broken pans, and other 
 missiles. Mr. Riley — who, by the way, is a pug-nosed 
 " Greek " with a face like a crushed muffin after a hasty 
 bake — upon such occasions would become frantic with rage ; 
 and throwing himself into what was intended to be a bellige- 
 rent attitude, (a position that reminded one of a cross mas- 
 tiff about to snap at a fly,) he would dare his adversaries 
 to "come out and face him," which he well knew to be per- 
 fectly impossible, inasmuch as the aforesaid adversaries were 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 69 
 
 securely locked in. Mr. Riley finally withdrew himself 
 from general society, like any great man who is not properly 
 appreciated by the age he lives in ; and it was soon rumored 
 that he had formed a co-partnership with the head-keeper's 
 dog, that animal enjoying a plentiful supply of meat, and 
 inhabiting a spacious chateau situated ou the romantic 
 banks of a tranquil mud-puddle. 
 
 The gentlemen who slumbered in the " sky parlor," (and 
 they numbered about fifty,) were quite jovial, considering 
 the rather unpleasant circumstances in which they were 
 placed. Several of them were musically inclined ; and one 
 individual, of Hibernian extraction, (said to be a bankrupt 
 bag-piper, ruined by an injudicious mixing of his drinks,) 
 in answer to a general call of the company, rendered with 
 great power and effect the popular ditty beginning with — 
 
 "A savman cooitoil a farmer's daughter, 
 That lived convaynient to the Isle of Man I" 
 
 During the progress of the song, the vocalist was fre- 
 quently encouraged and applauded by such expressions as — 
 " More power to yer elbow !" " Glory to yer owld sthroke !' 
 " Give us yer owld welt .'" When the vocalist had concluded, 
 he was rewarded by a " dhraw at the dudeen," (a smoke 
 of the pipe,) which was considered a great luxury and tlie 
 highest kind of a compliment to genius, tobacco being as 
 precious and almost as scarce as gold. 
 
 Our Philosopher, who had contrived to render himself 
 somewhat popular among the masses — for there is nothing 
 like a man's adapting himself as far as possible to the com- 
 pany into which chance may have thrown him — was next 
 called on for a song ; and, although he did not feel exactly 
 in a singing humor, he endeavored to comply, to the best 
 of his ability, with the request. Accordingly, he extempo- 
 
TO 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OR, 
 
 rized the following production, " making it up " as she went 
 along, to suit the occasion : — 
 
 THE TEN-DAY MAN'S LAMENT. 
 
 A DOLEFUL, DISMAL DITTY. 
 
 Am — " VUiJcins and his Dinah." 
 It's come all you bold drunkards and hear to my song, 
 It is founded on fact and it won't keep you long— 
 'Tis of my misfortune in the hiring of rooms 
 In that blasted old castle, the Centre street Tombs I 
 Chorus — Too ral lal ; too ral lal, &c. 
 
 'Twas a cruel policeman a prowling around, 
 He dtskiverdd my corpus all stretched on the ground, 
 Says he to his comrade, " This chap will take cold, 
 Unless we conwey him to the station-house bold I" 
 Chorus — (hoarsely) — Too ral lal, &c. 
 
 So they picked me up gently — they knew me full well, 
 And locked me all up in the station-house cell ; 
 In the morning I wakened, and rubbing my eyes, 
 Found out my sitiwation, to my great surprise I 
 
 Chorus — (hysterically) — Too ral lal, &c. 
 
 A officer took me right down to the jail, 
 But he kept a close watch, for fear of leg-bail , 
 In default of the payment of ten dollars fine, 
 I was sent down below, in the "jug" to repine. 
 
 Chorus — (in a tone of defiance,) — Too ral lal, &c. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Now, all you bold drunkards, don't wisit here twice, 
 To be bullied by niggers, and feasted on rice ; 
 Beware of bad liquor that costs but three cents, 
 Ten days, or ten dollars for every offence 1 
 
 Chorus — (beseechingly) — Too ral lal, Szc. 
 
 This vocal and poetic effort (says the Philosopher, with 
 his usual modesty,) was received with the most rapturous 
 and enthusiastic plaudits. Then other gentlemen volun- 
 teered, and the evening passed off very well, the prevailing- 
 harmony being only once disturbed by a slight misunder- 
 standing between a bottle-nosed chimney-sweep and a dissi- 
 pated gatherer of soap-fat. These gentlemen having punch- 
 
A KEY TO TIIE MODKKN BASTILE. 
 
 71 
 
 ed each other's heads in a manner that was deemed entire- 
 ly satisfactory, shook hands fraternally, and retired to their 
 repose. 
 
 The next day was Sunday, and the arrangements for 
 that day differed in no wise from the routine of other days, 
 with this single exception — the prisoners were required to 
 assemble in the hall of the prison, for the purpose of en- 
 gaging in religious exercises, which occupied about one 
 hour, and took place in the morning. Doubtless, many of 
 the poor fellows would have preferred a dinner, even of 
 broad and water, to any amount of pious exhortations, 
 which, when addressed to men who are suffering the pangs 
 of hunger, are about as beneficial as an instrumental con- 
 cert performed in the presence of an audience composed of 
 deaf mutes. 
 
 Well, the hour of worship having arrived, the denizens 
 of the yard were marched into the prison hall, and accom- 
 modated with seats on benches ranged along. The occu- 
 pants of the cells stood in front of their doors, along the 
 corridors. It is no exaggeration to say that the audience 
 thus assembled comprised some of the worst criminals and 
 most inveterate vagabonds that New York could possibly 
 produce. Venerable old thieves, grown gray in the service 
 of Satan and the State, exchanged the compliments of the 
 season with young beginners ; while fashionable swindlers 
 and well-dressed forgers glanced contemptuously at petty 
 rogues who had stolen mere trifles. Ah ! there is an 
 aristocracy in crime, as well as in everything else ! The 
 genteel scoundrel who has stolen his thousands, would scorn 
 to associate with the poor wretch who pilfered a loaf of 
 bread because he was hungry. 
 
 A dandy prisoner asks his shabby next-door neighbor — 
 
 ' ' Say, old fellow, what are you in for ? " 
 
72 
 
 TEN DATS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 " Why, I was out of work, and couldn't get any tiling to 
 cat, and so I went down to the market and- was caught 
 carrying off a chunk of beef that didn't belong to me, 
 that's all." 
 
 " Bah 1" exclaims the aristocratic felon, contemptuously, 
 as he moves away from the plebeian rogue — " you're a low 
 shyster, and I don't keep such company. / am in for 
 breaking open a trunk in a first-class hotel, and stealing 
 two thousand dollars !" 
 
 It is an amusing fact that most of the rascals who are 
 brought to the Tombs stoutly attest their entire innocence 
 of the crimes with which they are charged. What have 
 they been doing? '' Oh, nothing!" How did they get 
 here, then ? " Oh, brought in on a false charge." How 
 was that ? " OA, I hare got enemies, who had me arrested, 
 just out of spite!" How do you expect to come out of the 
 scrape ? " Easy enough ; I'll gel dear ; they can't shove me 
 for doing nothing .'" And this is the way with two-thirds 
 of the prisoners who are brought in ; to take their own 
 words for it, they are the most innocent and the most 
 cruelly persecuted people in the world. 
 
 The elite as well as the " roughs" of the criminal world 
 having properly adjusted themselves in their places, an in- 
 dividual in authority " called the meeting to order" by 
 requesting all hands to take off their hats and put out their 
 pipes and segars. This very reasonable order was duly 
 obeyed, whereupon a clerical gentleman, name unknown, 
 appeared upon the lower platform, opened his Bible, select- 
 ed a text, and proceeded to preach a sermon. His dis- 
 course was a very sensible and appropriate one, .well 
 adopted to his audience, and the latter portion of it 
 particularly addressed to those persons present who 
 were of intemperate habits. The Philosopher, and a 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 73 
 
 few others, duly appreciated the earnest and well- 
 meant efforts of the reverend gentleman to " sow good seed 
 on thorny ground ;" but we fear that it was like " casting 
 pearls before swine," to distribute gospel and moral truths 
 among such a gang of reprobates, as constituted the greater 
 part of that precious congregation. 
 
 The sermon being over, the audience was dismissed — 
 the criminal gentlemen retiring to their several apartments, 
 while the ten-day dogs were driven by their nigger masters 
 back into the yard. 
 
 During the delivery of the sermon, our friend had a good 
 view of Lewis Baker, charged with the murder of Bill 
 Poole. Baker appeared to be in excellent health ; — on the 
 occasion referred to, he was dressed in white pantaloons and 
 shirt, wearing neither coat nor vest. He stood on one of 
 lower corridors, in front of his cell, leaning carelessly on the 
 railing, and smoking a cigar. He looked like a man at 
 peace with all the world ; and, so far as his appearance was 
 concerned, no person would have suspected that he was 
 there confined on a charge of murder. It is said that his 
 cell is most comfortably and even luxuriously furnished — 
 that he is allowed every privilege consistent with his safe 
 keeping — that all the dainties of season constitute his 
 meal — that he is permitted to have wines, liquors, &c, — 
 that his friends, both male and female, visit him without 
 restraint — and that the keepers, including the Warden 
 himself, are on the most friendly, sociable and familiar 
 terms with him. This may be all right enough, for aught 
 we know or care ; — we merely mention the report because 
 everything that relates to a man placed in the position of 
 Lewis Baker, is supposed to be of public interest. 
 
 It has been whispered in certain circles — and observe, 
 we are not to be held responsible for the rumor — that 
 
74 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMES : OE, 
 
 Baker occasionally takes an airing about town, accompanied 
 by a couple of officers, with whom he visits his old haunts, 
 where he takes a quiet glass or two in the society of his 
 friends. It is also said that Paudeen, one of the persons 
 concerned in the Stanwix Hall affair, was allowed a similar 
 privilege, until considerable of a row was created in conse- 
 quence. These arrangements, with reference to men 
 charged with the crime of murder, must be very pleasant 
 and acceptable to the parties concerned — that is, if such 
 arrangements do really exist. 
 
 It is not for us individually, to express an opinion as to 
 what may be the eventual fate of Lewis Baker. Public 
 opinion is very much divided on the subject. Some people 
 think that he will come off " scot free ;" others, that he 
 will merely be convicted of man-slaughter in the second or 
 third degree, and receive a sentence of imprisonment for a 
 few years, in which case (say this class of liberal thinkers,) 
 he will probably be pardoned out before his time has half 
 expired. Very few people think that Baker will suffer the 
 extreme penalty of the law. The prejudice against him, and 
 the public excitement in relation to the bloody affray at 
 Stanwix Hall, have greatly subsided. Had he been 
 brought to trial while popular fury was at its height, we 
 believe that his conviction and execution would have surely 
 followed. 
 
 *K *l* ^ sic 
 
 Thus do we see illustrated the remarkable and discredi- 
 table fact, that the very worst offenders imprisoned in the 
 Tombs receive good and indulgent treatment, while men 
 confined ou the trilling and insignificant charge of drunken- 
 *ness, are abused in a manner the most cruel, unnecessary 
 and unjust,. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 75 
 
 PART SEVENTH. 
 
 HUMOROUS SKETCHES OF CHARACTER THE POET THE ECONO- 
 MICAL IRISHMAN THE COMICAL FRENCHMAN AND HIS BEAU- 
 TIFUL DAUGHTER. 
 
 One day succeeded another in slow and tedious rotation. 
 The Philosopher's time drew towards its close. The very- 
 light diet which he was compelled to adopt rather diminish- 
 ed the extent of his ample corporation ; yet his health 
 continued wonderfully good, despite the hardships to which 
 he was subjected in common with his numerous partners in 
 misfortune. Xot being permitted to receive any articles 
 from his friends outside, and there being few facilities for 
 washing and none at all for shaving, our friend unavoidably 
 began to assume a very piratical and neglected appearance, 
 particularly as he was without a coat, and sported a hat 
 which was frightfully crushed, in consequence of his using 
 it at night for a pillow. In fact, the Philosopher would 
 not hare consented to sit for his portrait, just at that time ; 
 and, had he been permitted as an especial favor, to promen- 
 ade Broadway, it is more than probable that his fashiona- 
 ble acquaintances would have given him the " cut direct," 
 provided they recognized him at all. A laundress would 
 have been shocked at the saffron hue of his linen ; Genin, 
 the great hatter, would have fainted in the contemplation 
 of his " tile ;" while any barber, of respectable standing in 
 the community, might have gone into hysterics on behold- 
 ing the Philosopher's beard, of nearly two weeks' growth. 
 The entire appearance of our friend would have shed im- 
 mortal glory upon that gallant military company, the " Ham 
 
76 
 
 TEN DATS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 Guards ;" and those two distinguished literary noodles, 
 Walter Gay and Edward J. Handiboe, (both of whom are 
 eminent Hams, ) would have bowed down in reverence be- 
 fore their great master and superior officer. 
 
 The impossibility of procuring the newspapers of the day 
 constituted a deprivation that was severely felt by our 
 friend, who had no means of keeping himself posted up in 
 current events at home and abroad. Sebastopol might 
 have been taken and re-taken thrice over, without his being 
 any the wiser for it. James Gordon Bennett might have 
 turned Methodist preacher — Horace Greeley might have 
 pulled the nose and blacked the eye of Louis Napoleon — 
 Frank Pierce might have been sentenced to teu days im- 
 prisonment in the Washington jail for being " tight" — the 
 " New York Shanghai" might have been merged into the 
 " Christian Intelligencer" — Theodore Parker might have 
 purchased a hundred slaves and gone into the cultivation 
 of cotton at the South — New York (the Tombs excepted,) 
 might have been swallowed up by an earthquake- — all or 
 any of these stupendous impossibilities (as they seem to be,) 
 might have occurred during the incarceration of the Phi- 
 losopher, without that gentleman's knowing anything about 
 the matter. As we have said somewhere before, a man in 
 the Tombs, who possesses no means of communicating with 
 his friends outside, is completely shut out f rom the world ! 
 
 All these grievances were of course hard to be borne ; 
 but nevertheless it is a positive fact, that had the Philos- 
 pher possessed one thousand dollars in clean cash, and were 
 the money in his pocket, he would not have released himself 
 by paying the fine of ten dollars. He would have endured 
 the hardships of the place, and remained until the expira- 
 tion of his time, for the two following reasons : — in the first 
 place, he was determined that his money should not be sac- 
 
A KEY TO THE MODEKN BASTILE. 
 
 .77 
 
 rificed at the shrine of a ridiculous, unjust and arbitrary law ; 
 — and, in the second place, he desired to see for himself the 
 entire arrangements and machinery of the Tombs, with the 
 design of writing and publishing a true description of the 
 same, for the entertainment and information of the public. 
 With what accuracy and faithfulness the writer has per- 
 formed his self-appointed task, is for those to judge who 
 have been in any way initiated into the Mysteries of the 
 Tombs. 
 
 It was excessively funny to listen to the remarks made 
 by the Irish portion of the " ten day" victims. " Arrah, 
 Diunis," one would say to another — "isn't this a mighty 
 fine fray country entirely, where a man wouldn't be let get 
 dhrunk on his own money !" " Och, hone!" would be res- 
 ponded by Dennis — "'tis murtherin' hard to be put in jail 
 this sayson of the year, when a laborin' man can get a dol- 
 lar a day for carryin' the hod or mixin' morthar. Snre I 
 give myself up ov me own accord, to go to the Island for 
 six months at the beginnin' of every winther, and come out 
 fresh in the spring, bekase it's betther for a man to be where 
 he'll get plinty of mate and bread to ate, -than to be loafin' 
 around New York stharved wid the could, whin he would- 
 n't be able to earn a quarther itself by puttin' in a ton of 
 coal or claning shnow off the side-walks wid a shovel. Ar- 
 rah, Ik; me sowl, its a fine plan for a man to put the earn- 
 ings of his six months into the savings Bank, and then live 
 on thy Island durin' the could sayson, instead of spendin' 
 his money. Divil the word ov a lie I'm tellin' ye, Pathrick 
 ■ — I gave myself up as a pauper last winther and wint to 
 the Island, whin at the same b lessed time I had two hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars in the Savings Bank — d'ye mind that, 
 ye spalpeen ? But oh, wirra, wirra I 'tis hard to be here 
 at this sayson, whin rum is so chape, and the weather war- 
 rum enough for a man to slape an a pile of bricks !" 
 
78 • TEN DATS IN THE TOMBS : OB,] 
 
 The reader is assured that the foregoing Hibernian 
 harangue embraces an actual and incontrovertible fact. A 
 certain class of our Irish population, including both males 
 and females, make a regular habit of working most indus- 
 triously during the spriDg and summer seasons of the year, 
 living as economically as possible, and hoarding up all the 
 money they can get. This is all very right and proper, so 
 far ; but the sequel is not very creditable to the " Greeks." 
 When the cold weather approaches, these people deposit 
 all the money they have accumulated, in the Savings Bank. 
 Then they go to the authorities and beg to be sent up to 
 the Island for three, four or six months, saying that they 
 have no homes nor means of support, and adding that they 
 must perish in the streets of hunger and cold, unless their 
 wishes are complied with. Their requests are generally 
 granted, and this fact will account for the crowded condi- 
 tion of our public institutions, during the winter months. 
 When these monied paupers come out in the spring, they go 
 to work again, lay up and deposit more money, and return 
 to the Island on the approach of winter. This system they 
 pursue from year to year, until finally they amass small 
 fortunes. We remember a case in point which happened 
 several years ago — An old " Greek" attracted the atten- 
 tion of the officers at the Island by the unvarying regularity 
 with which he visited their Institution every year at about 
 the beginning of October, remaining their guest for the 
 term of six months, and emerging again into society some 
 time about the first of April. Upon the occasion of one of 
 these annual visits, it occurred to the officers to search the 
 person of the punctual gentleman, notwithstanding his 
 earnest opposition ; when lo and behold ! around his waist 
 was found girded a great leathern money-belt, plethoric 
 with silver dollars ! Distrusting the stability of Savings 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BA8TILE. 
 
 79 
 
 Banks, the careful old gentleman preferred keeping his 
 treasures about his person. The money was taken away 
 from him, despite his emphatic protestations that the pro- 
 ceeding was unjust, and little short of actual robbery. The 
 " ancient Greek " was provided with a laborious and not 
 very lucrative situation in the stone quarry, although he 
 had, during his former periodical visits, been permitted to 
 lead a life of comparative indolence and plenty, in the cooking 
 department of the Institution. When his self-solicited six 
 months had expired, the Grecian financier applied for his 
 freedom and his money. The first was readily accorded to 
 him ; but as to the money — ah ! that was quite a different 
 affair. Not a penny could he get back, " at all, at all." 
 The treasurer of the establishment said to him, very 
 blandly — " My venerable Irish friend, the money which you 
 brought here with you has been appropriated to the pay- 
 ment of your board. During the last eight or ten years, 
 you have boarded here six months out of every year, doing 
 little or nothing for your own support. Your money will 
 hardly pay us what is justly our due ; but, in consideration 
 that you have worked pretty faithfully during the past six 
 months, we have concluded to call the account square, and 
 therefore you may go. Farewell, until the first of next 
 October !" The Greek raved, but 'twas of no use; he was 
 politely escorted down to the boat, and rowed over to the 
 other side — not of Jordan — but to Sixty-Fourth street, at 
 the foot of which the Island ferry was then located. The 
 old fellow never recovered his money, as no one to whom he 
 applied for advice and aid would listen to his story. After 
 that time, probably he had more faith in the soundness of 
 Savings Banks. The confiscation of his money might not 
 have been strictly legal ; but we cannot help thinking that 
 under the circumstances it was perfectly just 
 
80 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 The scarcity of tobacco among the " ten day men " is an 
 evil which is severely felt, although the article can easily be 
 purchased by those who have money. Pipes and tobacco 
 arc daily peddled around the yard by a gentleman rejoicing 
 in the possession of a big head and the name of Sullivan; 
 but his traffic is an honest one, because he buys his mer- 
 chandise, which he sells at a fair profit; while the bread 
 and beef merchants steal their stock in trade from the pub- 
 lic authorities. 
 
 A "ten day man" fancies that he has attained the very 
 summit of human felicity, when he is enabled to place the 
 stem of an old pipe between his lips and inhale the fragrance 
 of the weed. He struts about the yard with an air of 
 conscious dignity, and regards his less fortunate compan- 
 ions with an air that seems to say — "I'm sorry for you, my 
 poor fellows ; but really I can't help you ! " 
 
 The spirit of speculation exists, even among those help- 
 less wretches. One old vagabond owned a razor, and 
 this instrument he loaned out to his companions at the 
 moderate rate of three cents for each shave, they furnish- 
 ing their own soap and barbers ! The razor was a most 
 capital and efficient one, as it not only removed the beard, 
 but took off the skin witli it. 
 
 Some of the men were taken out of the yard occasional- 
 ly, to do small jobs of work, such as picking, digging, or 
 carrying off dirt and rubbish. These men were paid by 
 being allowed a small portion of prison food, and by ob- 
 taining their discharge at the end of nine clays. Every 
 evening, when the men were about to be transferred from 
 the yard to their cells, one of the niggers would bellow out 
 — "Nine day men, turn in ! " — whereupon the workers who 
 had been there nine days, would step forward, and go to 
 the office for the purpose of receiving their discharge. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODEKN BASTILK. 
 
 81 
 
 Then the Baboon in authority would vociferate — " Ten day 
 men, turn in ! " This was of course the signal for those 
 who had served out the full term often days, to go up to 
 the " captain's office " and take an affectionate farewell of 
 the " place of Wretchedness and Rice. " 
 
 These details are trivial, but they will enable the reader 
 to form a good general idea of the system of discipline that 
 exists in the Tombs. 
 
 "Have we a poet among us?" mentally ejaculated the 
 Philosopher one day, as he perused the following lines, writ- 
 ten in fine text upon a board that formed a part and par- 
 cel of the " shanty :" 
 
 LET US HASTE TO CENTRE STREET. 
 
 BY EDWARD JONES, PRINTER. 
 AIR—" Kdvin Grove. ' 
 
 Yes, I'll haste to Centre Street — 
 
 None shall pass me, 0 ! 
 Where the Tombs arc built so neat, 
 
 And yet so massy, O ! 
 Bless'd abode of young and old, 
 With thy windows barred and cold, 
 What a tale thou could'st unfold 
 
 Of bosoms brassy, O ! 
 
 Oh ! thou strong Egyptian pile I 
 
 None surpass ye, 0 1 
 Though we wander many a mile, 
 
 Rough or marshy , 0 . 
 Though no rats invade thy celLs. 
 (So.at least the paper tells,) 
 There a rich assortment dwells 
 
 Of Lads and lassos, 0 ! 
 
 The author of this sparkling effusion was a printer, an 
 Englishman, who had become so frightfully emaciated that 
 we mentally associated him with the memory of the immor- 
 tal Don Quixote, the Knight of the sorrowful figure. 
 Possessed of a nervous, irritable temperament, this gen- 
 
S2 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS I OK, 
 
 tleman loudly bewailed bis wrongs, and swore tbat when- 
 ever he drank liquor again, it would be " in his own house. " 
 There was another printer among the unfortunates, whose 
 name was Scott, belonging to Kingston, Ulster county, sit- 
 uated on the Hudson river, about ninety-five miles from 
 New York city. — We are thus particular in giving the 
 name and residence of this individual, because we wish him 
 to bestow especial attention upon this portion of our narra- 
 tive. His time being out a few days prior to the period of 
 the Philosopher's liberation, that gentleman commissioned 
 him (Mr. Scott,) to deliver a note containing an order 
 for clothing, money, tobacco, newspapers, books, &c, the 
 said articles to be sent down to the Tombs for the com- 
 fort and benefit of the aforesaid Philosopher, who stood 
 greatly in need of them. The articles were duly deliver- 
 ed to Mr. Scott, — but they were never received by the Phi- 
 losopher. If Mr. Scott faithfully delivered the property at 
 the office of the prison, with the proper directions, then 
 the fault lies, not with him, but with the person who took 
 charge of the said property ; but if, on the contrary, Mr. 
 Scott appropriated the things to his own use, then is the 
 prison officer blameless, while he is the guilty party. We 
 hope, for the honor of the typographical profession, that 
 Mr. Scott acted honorably in the business — for he knew 
 the Philosopht r to be a brother printer, and to rob him 
 while he was the inmate of a prison would constitute an 
 act of atrocious villiany that we hope no printer could be 
 guilty of perpetrating. Mr. Scott is assured that the 
 Philosopher will see him some day, and call him to a strict 
 account. The truth of the matter must and shall be arriv- 
 ed at. 
 
 Some of the men, who were confirmed and hopeless drunk- 
 ards, would, after their discharge, remain at liberty just 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 83 
 
 long enough to become thoroughly inebriated, and then re- 
 turn to their old quarters, which constituted in reality their 
 only home. — Home, did we say ? Ah ! — -how that sweet 
 and sacred name seems desecrated, when applied to such 
 a place ! Home — the dear and perhaps far-distant spot 
 with which are inseparably connected so many holy and 
 happy associations ! Home — that blessed paradise of mem- 
 ory, to which the sad heart will turn in its moments of 
 gloom and sorrow, although, alas ! that heart may never 
 again rejoice in the soft and gentle light of its beloved pres- 
 ence. 
 
 1 ' Be it ever so bumble, 
 There's no place like home !' : 
 
 How melancholy is the reflection, that the man* who 
 composed the sweet and beautiful song from which these 
 words are taken, died a broken-hearted exile from his na- 
 tive land — far, far away from his home ! 
 
 But we were speaking of the refreshing regularity with 
 which some of the gentlemen returned to their prison quar- 
 ters ; and, in this connection, we are reminded of one indi- 
 vidual who was quite an original character in his way. He 
 was a lively, good-humored little Frenchman, full of shrugs, 
 grimaces, and amusingly unsuccessful attempts to speak the 
 English language. When the philosopher first noticed him 
 in the prison-yard, Monsieur had nearly completed his ten 
 days ; and a funny-looking object he certainly was, being 
 without a hat, and exhibiting a round, bullet-shaped little 
 head, entirely bald, while a bushy moustache and imperial 
 gave a sort of military ferocity to his appearance. We 
 know of nothing in the world to liken him to, unless it be a 
 little mouse peeping over a bale of hemp. His clothes 
 were very dirty, but his heart seemed very light, for he 
 
 * The late John Howard Payne. 
 
84 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 did nothing but sing all day long, and smoke cigarettes 
 of bis own manufacture, composed of tobacco rolled up 
 in a bit of newspaper. The familiar, and too often in- 
 solent and heartless jeers of his companions were receiv- 
 ed by him with the utmost good nature ; and we verily 
 believe, that had any one knocked him down, he would 
 have arisen and thanked his assailant for the obliging token 
 of civility. He freely gave away everything that he pos- 
 sessed in the world — his knife, his chapeau, (presented to 
 a hatless friend who was going out before him,) and — 
 oh, marvellous sacrifice for a Frenchman to make ! — his 
 snuff-box, with all its fragrant contents. When he spoke, 
 all his body was set in motion — his gesticulations were 
 positively violent, and his pantomimical performances ought 
 to have made his fortune. Had his arms been tied, we 
 don't believe the little Frenchman could have uttered a 
 single word. He was full of anecdotes concerning " Napo- 
 leom and ze gr-r-rand armee !" But it is impossible to 
 convey on paper any adequate idea of his irresistibly comi- 
 cal mode of pronunciation. As an instance of his obliging 
 disposition, we will mention the fact that he gave away his 
 tin pan, and devoured his own private and personal rice 
 out of a broken junk bottle, using a split cork for a spoon. 
 An intensely happy man was the poor little Frenchman, 
 whenever he could do anybody a service ; and a more harm- 
 less, kind-hearted creature never existed. He would sing 
 most inharmoniously, and dance most grotesquely, when- 
 ever requested, for the diversion of the company. He ne- 
 ver became angry but once, and that was when a " Fri- 
 day-mackerel-snatcher," otherwise known as a " Greek," 
 spoke disrespectfully of bull-frogs as an article of food. 
 Then the ire of the little Frenchman was fairly aroused. 
 His head, shoulders, arms, hands and legs all united with 
 
A KEY TO THE M0DE11N BASTILE. 
 
 85 
 
 his tongue in giving utterance to his wrath. " Ha, ha !" 
 said lie, gesticulating frightfully, and growing very red 
 in the face — " ha, ha ! you shall speak of zo leetle bool- 
 (Voog vviz von grand disdain, eh ? Vat you eat, you beeg 
 Irishman, eh? You eat ze — vat you call him ? — oui, you 
 eat ze pottatare, and ze cod-feesh, by dam 1 Ze leetle bool- 
 froog is vou grand desh — sacre dam ! you be von great 
 fool I" Hereupon, the big Greek would have annihila- 
 ted the little Frenchman, had not the Philosopher step- 
 ped forward and protected him ; and this act of our friend 
 secured the eternal gratitude of the diminutive Gaul, 
 who was almost painfully profuse in his thanks. 
 
 Well, Monsieur's time expired ; — and, on the eve of his 
 going out, he took an affectionate leave of all his friends, 
 bidding them an revoir a thousand times over, and regret- 
 ting, in his own comical but sincere way, that he had not a 
 quautity of presents to distribute among those whom he 
 left behind, for them to " remember him by." And then the 
 little Frenchman kissed his hand to the assembly, as a last 
 farewell ; and passing through the office, he went forth in- 
 to the busy world again. 
 
 " Ah !" thought the Philosopher, with a sigh — " Would 
 that all mankind, and womankind, too, possessed such good 
 hearts and such simple, guileless natures as thine, poor little 
 Frenchman ! There would be more happiness in the world, 
 then ; and the high-road that leads to heaven would be 
 thickly populated, for many would then journey towards 
 the celestial country, who are now driven in an opposite and 
 downward direction by the heartlcssness, injustice and bru- 
 tality of their fellow-worms. Render a man thoroughly 
 desperate and reckless by cruelty and oppression, and what 
 aires he fur the welfare of his body or the salvation of his 
 soul ?" 
 
86 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 Answer this question, ye reverend divines, who are so 
 liberal with your prayers, and so eloquent in speaking of 
 the figurative " bread of life," while not one single fraction 
 of your fat salaries goes towards the procurement of a 
 morsel of sowbread for t'ae relief of your starving fellow- 
 sinners. And answer it, also, ye wealthy employers, who 
 exact much labor for little pay, devouring the substance of 
 toiling men and women, while, each Sabbath day, ye sit in 
 richly cushioned pews, and" mumble unmeaningly over gilded 
 Bibles and hymn-books, and fancy yourselves securely book- 
 ed for heaven ! Take care, hypocrites and worshippers of 
 Mammon ! Your slaves may gel to heaven before you ! 
 
 Well — the little Frenchman went out, and the very next 
 day, lo and behold ! he was back again for ten days more! 
 Of course, says the reader, he was terribly cast down and 
 dejected. No such thing. On the contrary he was lively 
 as a cricket, saluting all his old friends with the most en- 
 thusiastic cordiality, distributing his tobacco with prodigal 
 liberality, and purchasing an almost unlimited supply of 
 bread and meat for general consumption, he being in funds. 
 He became the hero of the yard at once, and even the 
 anti-frog-eating Irishman acknowledged that he was a 
 " broth of a boy." The appearance of the little Frenchman 
 had been immensely improved, even during his brief sojourn 
 outside the prison walls. A neat straw hat, adorned with 
 a broad ribbon of preposterous length, sat jauntily upon 
 the back part of his head, displaying the best portion of his 
 phrenological developments to excellent advantage. His 
 moustache and imperial, so recently of a fiery red color, had 
 been dyed black ; and he was dressed from head to foot in 
 a clean white summer suit. 
 
 " Well, Monsieur," said the Philosopher to him — " you 
 look uncommonly fresh and nice this morning. But how, in 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 87 
 
 the devil's name, came you back so soon ? Why, you were 
 only a few hours at liberty." 
 
 "Ma foi .'" said the Frenchman, with a shrug that 
 threatened to dislocate every limb in his body, and a grim- 
 ace that might have frightened the very devil himself — " I 
 shall tell you, for you be von dam clevare fellare. Veil, den, 
 I go out- — I meet anozare Froonch jonteelmon from Parfe, 
 ve driuk two, tree, six, four times, ve get, vat you call him ? 
 out, ve get ze leetlc brecks in our hats. Den ze gend'arme, 
 vot you sail call ze poleecemon, he grab me. I say — " go 
 vay, you dam tief," zeu he take me to ze pree-stra, and lock 
 me up, mon Dim ! But n'importe — I no care, for I is von 
 dam jollee fellare !" 
 
 "But it seems," remarked the Philosopher — " that you 
 contrived to raise a pretty good suit of harness during the 
 short time you were out." 
 
 " Vat you call ze harnace. — eh ?" 
 
 " Why, your clothes, to be sure." 
 
 " Old — ah, mon Dien ! — poor leetle Louise !" said the 
 Frenchman, as his eyes filled with tears. The Philosopher 
 had unwittingly awakened in the breast of his strange com- 
 panion emotions that were evidently painful. 
 
 " Pardon me if I have wounded your feelings," said our 
 friend, gently — " I did not mean to do it." 
 
 The Frenchman grasped the hand of the Philosopher, 
 and spoke substantially as follows. We will, for the sake 
 of convenience, translate his broken idiom, and give his 
 statement in plain English : — 
 
 " I am sir, a man of decent birth and good education, 
 although I speak your language very imperfectly, having 
 been in this couutry but a short time. I am by profession 
 a teacher of instrumental music. What I am about to say 
 to you may seem strange, but 'tis nevertheless true — my ex- 
 
88 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 cessive aud invincible good nature has been the ruin of me. 
 In France, I good-naturedly became security for a friend, 
 who played the scoundrel and caused me to be stripped of 
 all my little property. I good-naturedly suffered him to 
 run away with my wife, whom I forgave for her infidelity, 
 because she was kind enough to leave with me my only 
 treasure — my daughter, the little Louise. Ah ! she is an 
 angel. She works hard, and never scolds me when I get 
 drunk. In return, I never beat her, nor speak unkindly to 
 her — such treatment would break her heart — she is so good, 
 so gentle, so affectionate ! Sometimes I keep sober a long 
 time, and then I earn money for my little Louise, and make 
 her presents of little caps with gay ribbons — such as her 
 mother used to wear — she is very like her bad mother, is 
 little Louise ! But I mean in person, not in disposition. 
 Louise sometimes has chickens, and fruit, aud confectiona- 
 ry to eat ; but the dear child does not grumble when I 
 have only a crust of bread to offer her. Well, once in a 
 while I get melancholy, thinking of my wife- sacre !" 
 says I to myself— "this will never do, I must try and keep jol- 
 ly, or die !" You see, I was not cut out for a melancholy 
 man ; — my face was made for laughter, not for tears. But 
 the memory of my wife makes a fool of me sometimes, 
 and drives me to drink — then I am happy again, because I 
 am drunk — you understand ? The exhilaration of drunk- 
 enness is all very well, while it lasts ; but when a man be- 
 comes sober, his uuhappiness is only increased by his pre- 
 vious excitement and unnatural gaiety. Drunk or sober, 
 I never speak harshly to Louise, but she weeps when she 
 sees me intoxicated, and tries to hide her tears from my 
 sight. Then her smile is like a sunbeam shining through 
 the diamond drops of an April shower. But courage — 
 courage ! I'll no longer be a drunkard — I'll be a tempe- 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BAST1LK. 
 
 89 
 
 ranee man — I swear it ! This reform I owe to myself— to 
 my Louise. The recollection of that bad woman, my wife, 
 shall not cause the unhappiness of my darling child. The 
 first time I was put in prison here, Louise knew nothing 
 about it — she thought me lost, or dead — she went almost 
 distracted. Well, last evening, after I was discharged, I 
 went home. Imagine the delight of Louise ! Her kisses 
 covered my lips, my cheeks, and her embraces well nigh 
 smothered me. But I wanted something to eat, more tham 
 I wanted caresses — for this rice is poor stuff, after all. I 
 devoured cold mutton like an ogre — I gulped down a bot- 
 tle of wine, telling Louise that I had been out of town, 
 had fallen siek, and so on. I didn't want her to know that 
 I had been to prison. The poor dear girl was too glad to 
 see me, to pay much atteution to my ridiculous and improba- 
 ble explanations. Well, the wine flew into my head, and 
 made me feel very jovial. Ten days' confinement caused me 
 to long for a little excitement. So I changed my dress- 
 as you see — and went out, promising Louise that I would 
 return within an hour. Alas ! I did not keep that promise. 
 Meeting a countryman of mine, we drank together — once, 
 twice, three times — oh J a great many times ! I scarcely 
 remember what followed, but have an indistinct recollection 
 of wondering what had become of my friend, for he had 
 disappeared — then I found myself in the grasp of a police- 
 man — next I was in the station-house, where I passed the 
 night, not exactly on a bed of roses, but on an infernally 
 hard floor. This morning I was brought before the Justice, 
 who for the second time sentenced me here for ten days, as 
 I told him that I had not ten dollars. So here I am, at 
 your service. Poor Louise ! she will again be distressed 
 by my absence — she will again suffer all the agonies of sus- 
 pense and fear concerning my fate. May heaven shield 
 
90 
 
 TEN DAYS IN TIIE TOMBS : OB, 
 
 and protect her until I return to her once more ! When I 
 am liberated this time, I will go to her, confess all, and im- 
 plore her forgiveness, for I have wronged her by my neglect 
 and dissipated habits, although she is dearer to me than my 
 own heart's blood. She will rejoice when I give, her my 
 word of honor that I will drink no more, for she knows 
 that my word of honor is sacred. We shall hereafter live very 
 happily together, Louise and I. She, as a maker of artifi- 
 cial flowers, and I, as a music teacher, will earn a comfor- 
 table subsistence. I will think no more of my bad wife, 
 but live and be jovial, for the sake of my child. My friend, 
 you must come and see us some time — you must see for 
 yourself what a charming creature is my beautiful Louise. 
 She has not been brought up in ignorance ; and, when I 
 have introduced you as my friend, she will receive and wel- 
 come you with all the grace, elegance and cordiality of a 
 true French lady." 
 
 The good old Frenchman gave the Philosopher his ad- 
 dress. A week or two after our friend's liberation from du- 
 rance vile, he remembered the invitation which had been so 
 hospitably extended to him by the teacher of music, in the 
 Tombs. 
 
 " I'll call upon my eccentric acquaintance," thought Fal- 
 staff — " for I am curious to behold the prodigy of beauty 
 and amiability — this daughter of his, the charming Louise. 
 Perhaps, after all, she is nothing but a Parisian grizette 
 with a brown skin, coarse features, red hair, and a breath 
 tainted by the odor of garlic — a creature, in short, posi- 
 tively repulsive to an American taste, although a father's 
 partiality has invested her with all the attributes of an an- 
 gel. Well, I shall soon see." 
 
 The street and number were easily found. The little 
 Frenchman lived in one of those large six-story " tenement 
 
A KEY TO THE HODEKN BASTILE. 
 
 91 
 
 houses" which are beginning to come into fashion. The 
 Fat Philosopher groaned in deep anguish of spirit when he 
 learned that the gentleman whom he was about to visit 
 lived on the " first floor under the roof," that is to say, on 
 the sixth story. A man who has the misfortune to weigh 
 over two hundred pounds does not contemplate with much 
 tranquility the task of ascending six long flights of stairs, 
 on a warm day in August ! 
 
 Making the upward journey by easy stages, and pausing 
 on every landing to recover breath, our obese friend finally 
 accomplished his laborious undertaking, and stood before a 
 door which a little girl of rather unclean person, but oblig- 
 ing manners, pointed out as leading to the apartments of 
 Monsieur Pappin, for that was the name in which the little 
 Frenchman especially rejoiced. The Philosopher knocked 
 upon the door, which was immediately opened by Monsieur 
 Pappin himself, fantastically attired in a little night-cap 
 that was perched on the extreme top of his head, and re- 
 sembled a pigeon standing on the summit of a vast dome. 
 He also wore a calico dressing-gown that was many sizes 
 too big for him, enveloping his little figure like an awning 
 wrapped around a clothes-pin. He was prodigiously glad 
 to see our friend, whose elbow he nearly dislocated by the 
 cordial impetuosity with which he shook hands. Then he 
 made his guest sit down in a large arm-chair, in front of a 
 window commanding a picturesque but not extensive view 
 of a clothes-line, a quantity of damp linen, and about 
 six square feet of " yard" in the rear of the house — said 
 yard containing a cistern, a wash-tub, and an irritable mas- 
 tiff who was continually manifesting an unamiable propen- 
 sity in the way of making liberal extracts from the shins of 
 casual wayfarers in that section of the establishment. 
 
 These works of nature and of art were very slightly no- 
 
92 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS OE, 
 
 ticed by the Philosopher, who found more fo interest him 
 in the room and its occupants. The apartment was quite 
 small, and contained Monsieur Pappin's bed ; a door led 
 into an inner room, which was probably the sleeping cham- 
 ber of Monsieur Pappin's daughter, Louise. Everything 
 was " neat, but not gaudy." All the arrangements indica- 
 ted that a refined and delicate feminine taste prevailed 
 there. The divine presence of womanly purity hallowed 
 that humble abode, and seemed to shed a halo of glory all 
 around. Flowers, exhaling a grateful perfume, bloomed 
 here and there in earthen pots, and several gold and silver 
 fish flashed their glittering sides in a large glass vase. In 
 a tiny cage, near the window, there were birds, too — melo- 
 dious wanderers from far-distant isles, that seem to bring to 
 our shores some portion of the sunny loveliness of their na- 
 tive climes. A few pictures, selected and arranged with 
 exquisite taste — a guitar — and the fair Louise herself — 
 were among the most prominent objects in the apartment. 
 
 The young girl was seated at a circular table in the mid- 
 dle of the room, engaged in her usual occupation of making 
 artificial flowers. The little Frenchman had not exagge- 
 rated her beauty ; no— he had not half done it justice. 
 Our friend describes her as being about sixteen years of 
 age. Her complexion, he says, is of dazzling fairness— her 
 rounded cheeks exhibit the blended hues of the lily and the 
 rose. Purely classical are the outlines of her features ; her 
 eyes are magnificently luminous, and strangely variable in 
 their expression, now tender and gentle as those of a fawn, 
 now laughing in silent but eloquent mirth at some quaint 
 remark of her odd old genius of a father — now earnest, 
 deeply sad, full of a mysterious sorrow that is holy and re- 
 signed — and now flashing splendidly, gleaming with wild 
 excitement, and reflecting the passionate depth of an en- 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 93 
 
 thusiastic soul. Her hair, so darkly brown and shining 
 like softest satin, is smoothly parted over her fair girlish 
 forehead — but it revenges itself for its forced quaker-like 
 simplicity in front, by falling down behind her ears in a 
 rich shower of tresses, that finely contrast with her 
 rounded shoulders of alabaster whiteness. When the Phil- 
 osopher saw her, she was dressed in a very simple and becom- 
 ing manner, wearing no ornaments whatever, although her 
 youth and extraordinary beauty might have excused some 
 little artificial embellishments. But could the costliest gems 
 add aught to the loveliness of that radiant creature ? — 
 Where are the diamonds that could sparkle more brilliantly 
 than her eyes ? Where are the rubies that could compare 
 with the rich hues of her cheeks and lips ? And where 
 are the pearls that could vie with the delicate enamel of 
 her teeth, whose rosy portals, when wreathed into a smile, 
 suggested thoughts of honeyed kisses and the sweet fragrance 
 of spring flowers ! 
 
 Add to all these charms a form of faultless and almost 
 voluptuous symmetry, and the reader may perhaps be ena- 
 bled to form some faint idea of Mademoiselle Louise Pap- 
 pin. Alas ! we wish she owned a more romantic name, 
 for Pappin is horrible, although old Pappin himself assured 
 the Philosopher that the name belonged to one of the best 
 families in Prance. We might have given the young girl 
 a better sounding title, but that would not have been tell- 
 iug the truth — and every word in this episode is strictly in 
 accordance with the facts, as they actually occurred. The 
 writer of these pages at times deals extensively in romance 
 and fiction ; but here he confines himself exclusively to the 
 Truth, in whatever aspect it may present itself, no mat- 
 ter whether it be sorrowful, humorous, repulsive or ter- 
 rific. 
 
94 
 
 1 DAYS IN THK TOMBS '. Oil, 
 
 Louise was especially and irresistibly captivating when 
 she talked. How fascinating was the graceful French ac- 
 cent that accompanied her imperfect utterance of our En- 
 glish words ! How archly she would laugh at her own un- 
 successful but exceedingly pretty attempts to pronounce 
 some of the more difficult portious of our rude language ! 
 Ah ! the " broken English" of a beautiful Frenchwoman, 
 is to us one of the most delightful treats in the world ! 
 
 Monsieur Pappin was in raptures with himself, and with 
 everybody else ; he danced and jumped about like one pos- 
 sessed. The Philosopher, at first, thought that the little 
 man was drunk ; but the whispered assurance of the happy 
 Louise removed that suspicion. 
 
 A table was soon spread, laden with delicacies, including 
 fruit, and a bottle of wine ; but neither the Frenchman or 
 his daughter would touch the wine, and our friend was 
 obliged to become a solitary convivialist. 
 
 " A leetle cat zat is burned sail dread ze fire," said Mon- 
 sieur, who was evidently thinking of the Tombs. 
 
 The repast being over, a general conversation followed, 
 enlivened by the performance of Louise upon her guitar. 
 She also sang two or three songs with great sweetness. — 
 Then her father took from a dusty case an ancient-looking 
 violin, upon which he played with extraordinary skill, pro- 
 ducing sounds of wildest melody, like those with which the 
 great and immortal Paganinni entranced all Europe. The 
 old Frenchman was evidently a most accomplished musi- 
 cian ; and, now that he had relinquished the bottle, there 
 seemed to be no obstacle in the way of his being able to 
 support himself and daughter in a style not only comforta- 
 ble but luxurious. 
 
 When the Philosopher took his leave of his hospitable 
 friends, he was warmly invited to call frequently. He pro- 
 
A KEY TO THK MODKKN CASTILE. 
 
 95 
 
 mised — but the pressure of business engagements nas pre- 
 vented him from repeating his visit, and he has not since 
 enjoyed the felicity of beholding either the comical little 
 Frenchman or his peerless daughter 
 
 PART EIGHTH. 
 
 RESTORATION TO LIBERTY. 
 
 The Philosopher's time was to expire on a Sunday 
 evening. On Saturday the rain fell in torrents nearly 
 all day. 
 
 " My emancipation to-morrow will be rather a cheerless 
 one, I fear," sighed our friend — -" going out of prison on a 
 Sunday, without a coat, and probably in the midst of a 
 drenching rain, is a very bad business, indeed. However, 
 there's no help for it." 
 
 But the Philosopher was destined to be restored to free- 
 dom sooner than he expected. On Saturday evening, when 
 the men who were entitled to their discharge were called 
 out, our friend, impelled by a sudden impulse, boldly 
 placed himself among them, and proceeded to the office. 
 
 " They can but send me back," thought he — " and they 
 may let me go. At all events, the experiment is worthy of 
 a trial." 
 
 About a dozen candidates for liberty stood in the office, 
 all eager to breathe once more the free air of heaven. A 
 clerk and one or two other persons, were stationed behind 
 a desk, looking over a large book, in which were registered 
 the names of the prisoners, with the dates of their several 
 commitments. 
 
 / 
 
96 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS I OB, 
 
 " What's your name ?" sternly inquired the clerk, ad- 
 dressing an " exile from Erin." 
 
 "Diunis Macarthy, an' plaze yer honor," replied the 
 Greek, scraping his foot, and pulling vigorously at his red 
 top-knot. 
 
 " How long have you been here ?" 
 
 " Nine days to-night, sir — but I've been working, plaze 
 yer riverence." 
 
 " Go back — we can't discharge any more men at the end 
 of nine days. Work or no work, they must stay their full 
 ten days out. Get out, will you ?" 
 
 Exit Mr. Dennis Macarthy, grumbling. He went back 
 and was locked up. 
 
 " That looks bad for me,'' 1 thought the Philosopher. " I 
 must pass another night and day here, I fear." 
 
 Several other " nine day men" were sent back, and lock- 
 ed up. Two or three " ten day men" were discharged, and 
 went on their way rejoicing. The Philosopher was the last 
 applicant. Stepping boldly up to the desk, he saluted the 
 clerk with a profound and courtly bow. Everybody who 
 enjoys the honor of a personal acquaintance with our friend, 
 knows the impressive dignity of his manners and the bland 
 suavity of his address. 
 
 " Well, how long have you been here ?" inquired the 
 clerk, who, by the way, looked like one of the b'hoys. 
 
 " 'Tis now some nine long days since first these granite 
 walls enclosed me in their hated grasp," replied the Philos- 
 opher, in a deeply tragical tone — " nine days, did I say? 
 Now, by all the gods, it seems like nine centuries 1 Look 
 you, my merry masters, I am not of the common herd. No 
 Greek am I, but a Roman ! that is to say, an American, 
 which is all the same. I pray thee, my noble lords, let me 
 depart in peace, for my soul is heavy, and I would be gay. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 97 
 
 My spirit hnngereth after the flesh-pots of Egypt. Ha ! 
 Yon open door leads into the street — I snuff the air of lib- 
 erty — may I go ? — I read an affirmative answer in your 
 speaking eyes — thanks, and farewell forever !" 
 
 The Philosopher was plunging madly out, when a gentle 
 man with a star on his breast, who stood at the door, ob- 
 served that he was " too fast," whereupon our friend walked 
 back to the desk with something of the air of a man who 
 was ordered to instant execution. 
 
 Meanwhile, the clerk and his associates were laughing 
 heartily. Here, then, was half the battle gained already. 
 Put a man in good humor, and he will be ten times more 
 likely to grant your request than if he remained sullen and 
 half angry. 
 
 "You have only been here nine days, then?" remarked 
 the clerk — " you know that you were sentenced to ten 
 days." 
 
 " Alas ! it is most true — 'tis pitiful, 'tis wondrous piti- 
 ful 1 But, my gracious liege, just think a moment. To- 
 morrow will be the Sabbath — no fitting time for me to 
 mingle in the crowds of pious worshippers that will throng 
 our streets, without a coat, and with a thickly-bearded 
 chin and unwashed clothes. This Ls Saturday eve— dis- 
 charge me from my situation, and I'll ask no wages ! I 
 wish to change my boarding-house ! for, sooth to say, I 
 like not this !" 
 
 " Why," said the clerk, who was evidently highly amus- 
 ed — " you are the queerest fellow that I ever met with 
 in the whole course of my life. You are an actor, I pre- 
 sume ?" 
 
 " Formerly, yes — at present, no." 
 " Then what the devil are you ?" 
 " Let me whisper in thine ear a tremendous secret," said 
 
08 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS ; OE, 
 
 our friend, mysteriously ; and bending over the desk, he 
 pronounced a few words in a low tone. 
 
 The clerk started with surprise, and examined our 
 friend with attention. This investigation appeared to re- 
 sult satisfactorily ; for he smiled in recognition, and re 
 marked — 
 
 " I know you, now, very well. I am surprised to see 
 yon here. You will doubtless make disclosures concerning 
 this place. Send us a copy of whatever you may 
 print." 
 
 " Consider it as done, already !" 
 
 " Well, you may go, and good luck attend you." 
 
 The Philosopher is fat — -indeed, we may say, very fat — 
 but, upon this occasion, he exhibited a degree of agility 
 that was truly wonderful. The welcome words, " you may 
 go," had scarcely escaped the lips of the clerk, when our 
 friend made a tremendous leap, and landed in the middle of 
 the street. Then, the respectable inhabitants of that 
 neighborhood were astonished at beholding a stout man, 
 coatless, and out of breath, tearing wildly along, in the 
 midst of a drenching rain. Policemen, who stood for shel- 
 ter under awnings, gazed suspiciously at the flying figure 
 of our friend, who kept up his headlong pace until he was 
 quite exhausted and unable to run any further. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, our Philosopher was seated in 
 the gorgeous saloon of Taylor, on Broadway, calmly dis- 
 cussing a superb rump-steak and trimmings, in company 
 with a noted member of the Shanghai fraternity. The 
 appearance of our friend, even within the short space of 
 half an hour, had been materially improved. No longer 
 was he the coatless and thickly-bearded victim ; for he had 
 been suddenly (transformed into a portly personage, of 
 grave and respectable exterior. He looked like a sufy 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN liASTILE. 99 
 
 stantial farmer, or a dignified member of the Society of 
 Friends. He partook of his refreshments with the satis- 
 fied air of a man who is fully qualified to appreciate the 
 good things of this life ; but, towards the close of the 
 banquet, he lost his accustomed equanimity, and was with 
 difficulty prevented by his friend from pulling the nose of a 
 gentleman who, he conceived, had insulted him by calling 
 on the waiter for boiled rice. 
 
 PART NINTH, 
 
 A GHOST IX THE TOMBS. 
 
 Our police courts and station-houses often furnish a 
 greater amount of genuine amusement than any of the 
 theatres. We have repeatedly listened with interest 
 to the recitals of men connected with the police de- 
 partment. Among them we may particularly designate 
 an inveterate joker, who is now one of the most indefati- 
 gable officers detailed at the First District Court. This 
 son of Momus is widely known in sporting circles as 
 " Lordy." "Whenever there is any sport on the carpet, 
 Lordy is sure to do the ' ' leading business." To him be- 
 longs the credit of summoning back to earth the spirit of a 
 criminal, who had perished upon the scaffold in the Tombs 
 yard, some three or four years ago. It seems that, by 
 Lordy's mysterious agency, his ghost-ship located him- 
 self immediately over the stair-case leading to the bunk- 
 room occupied by the policemen, previous to their removal 
 to their present station-house. This " spectre" had the 
 desired effect ; — it not only frightened some of Ireland's 
 superstitious sons almost out of their wits, but it also " sold" 
 
100 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOIMBS : OK, 
 
 the officers on duty. The following are the circumstances 
 which attended the perpetration of this capital joke : — 
 
 The night on which the adventure took place, happened 
 to be Christmas Eve. The sky was overcast, and an occa- 
 sional sprinkling proved very disagreeable to pedestrians. 
 Lordy being in good condition for a spree, set his wits to 
 work, and tried to manufacture some means of creating 
 fuu. Finally, he remembered that " Old Grab" was in 
 Franklin street, which was included in his beat. This officer's 
 wonderful courage was beyond all dispute ; but our hero 
 thought to give it a test. Accordingly, aided by a friend, 
 he procured a tolerably good suit of clothes, together with 
 all the other appurtenauces necessary to the composition of 
 a human form. After so shaping the effigy that it would 
 almost deceive the eye of a careful observer, Lordy placed 
 it in a sitting posture against the wall of the old Arsenal 
 that formerly stood opposite the Tombs. This place at the 
 time was in a very filthy condition, and the passers-by, ob- 
 serving what seemed to be a person of respectable ap- 
 pearance in such a condition, naturally wondered why such 
 a state of affairs was allowed in the immediate vicinity of 
 the police station. Finally, a gentleman notified " Old 
 Grab" of the fact. He was at this time standing at the 
 corner of Broadway ; but he instantly hastened to the 
 scene of action in which he was to achieve such immortal 
 glory. Arriving in front of the supposed inebriate, with 
 scorn depicted upon his not very intellectual countenance, 
 he thus addressed the sleeper : — 
 
 " Arrah, what are ye doing there, eh ? D'ye hear ? 
 Get up out o' that, or be the powers I'll give ye a rise of 
 the club, ye dirthy blackguard ! Do ye hear me spakin' 
 to ye I" 
 
 The worthy guardian of the night kept on in this strain 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTItiE. 
 
 101 
 
 for some time. At last, losing all patience, he made a 
 terrible attempt to lift the straw man, when lo ! like a 
 feather the figure bounded into the air, and before it again 
 came down on terra firma, Old Grab, trembling with fear, 
 had vanished around the corner. Lordy, who was all this 
 time concealed behind a pile of bricks, ran and rescued his 
 friend from the mud, and then started to " have a turn" 
 with some one else. So, taking the arm of the figure in 
 the same manner as he would have taken the arm of any 
 person under arrest, he proceeded to the station house. 
 As he entered the door, he struck at his man, exclaiming — 
 " Resist, will you ? Take that .'" 
 
 Whereupon, he gave the figure a rap which completely 
 knocked the hat over its eyes. Then a regular ' ' rough-and- 
 tumble fight" ensued between Lordy and the stuffed man. 
 First one was down, and then the other. The Captain, 
 who was behind the desk, could not see the drift of af- 
 fairs, and was greatly astonished at the conduct of both 
 parties. In vain did he call upon Lordy to desist, as 
 there were strangers present, who might imbibe some 
 queer notions as to the manner in which prisoners were 
 treated. At last, Lordy raised the " man," and in some 
 manner caused him to stand as if hanging over the railings. 
 Here the fun again commenced. The Captain, with open 
 book before him and pen in hand, prepared to record the 
 answers to the usual questions that were put to prisoners, 
 such us — " What is your name ? Where do you live ? 
 How old are you V &c. But, as no answer came, the offi- 
 cial began to suspect that there was something in 'the wind. 
 He arose ; and after scrutinizing the speechless " prisoner," 
 he winked at Lordy, and said — 
 
 " Ah, Lordy, you are at your old tricks again. Take 
 him down, officer." 
 
102 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS '. OK, 
 
 But our hero wasn't quite done yet ; there was still more 
 sport in reserve. It was now near the hour when the men 
 who had been relieved would come in to go to bed. So 
 instead of taking his prisoner " down," he procured a rope, 
 and with it suspended poor Mr. Dummy from a beam over- 
 head. He then went to bed, and watched the movements 
 of the men as they came in. Not a word was uttered, but 
 the party retired to their bunks, and many of them passed 
 the whole night in fervent prayer, for they firmly believed, 
 and do now believe at the present day, that the hanging 
 figure was the ghost of a murderer who was hung a few 
 weeks previously. 
 
 This is but one out of a thousand similar pranks which 
 Lordy has played. His autobiography, embracing the 
 comical occurrences of his life, would prove far more 
 interesting than the histories of such individuals as Henry 
 Ward Beecher, Horace Greeley, or James Gordon Bennett. 
 There are many more humorous personages attached to the 
 police department who are almost equal to our friend Lordy 
 in their eccentricities. 
 
 There was formerly a certain genius — who is now a very 
 important official — residing in one of the Pacific States 
 For the sake of brevity we will call him Chris, and then 
 we'll not be far from the mark. The drollery of this indi 
 victual was of a different character from that of Lordy. He 
 had a very quaint method of performing his duties, which, 
 to the uninitiated, would have seemed rather inconsistent ; 
 yet he always came out " right side up," no matter whether 
 it was in having a bushel of "charges" dismissed before 
 the Mayor, or in getting his fees for showing strangers that 
 wonderful animal " the elephant." Depredators of all 
 classes kept aloof from his post, as he had a very peculiar 
 knack of "sending up." He especially despised what he 
 
A KEV TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 103 
 
 termed, in elegant parlance, " plebian sons of the femin- 
 ine portion of the canine race." Upon one occasion, 
 as he was patrolling his beat on Broadway, he espied a 
 group of four or five burglars operating professionally upon 
 a store door. Going up to them with perfect nonchalance, 
 he thus addressed them — 
 
 " Oh, you plebian sons of ! do you come here on my 
 
 post to break open a store ? Now, don't yer feel d d 
 
 cheap ; say, don't yer ? Now pick up your traps and 
 vamose. Go over on the other side of the street, and take 
 the whole front out of a house, if you like, but don't ever 
 
 come on my beat again ; if }ou do, I'll send you, you d d 
 
 plebeian thieves ! Come, now, mizzle !" 
 
 The burglars left, being doubtless well satisfied to get off 
 so easily. As long as Chris remained upon that post, there 
 never was a burglary committed, nor goods lost in any man- 
 ner, notwithstanding that doors were found open almost 
 nightly. 
 
 The stigma which is too often attached to the police 
 department, is caused generally by those members who are 
 of foreign extraction, and very seldom by Americans 
 Many ignorant persons from foreign countries are placed by 
 political parties upon the police, to the detriment of those 
 born upon this soil, who have to share the blame which is 
 often justly cast upon their alien associates. It is very 
 seldom that a complaint is made against an American, 
 while, upon the other hand, charges against foreigners are 
 numerous. This is hardly to be wondered at, because men 
 born under despotic governments can have but little sym- 
 pathy with or appreciation of our republican institutions, 
 and they have no proper estimation of the glorious funda- 
 mental principle of our constitution, which proclaims the 
 grand fact that " all men are born free and equal ;" and 
 
104 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 that the rights of the poor man are as sacred as those of his 
 wealthy neighbor. 
 
 Thus, a foreigner upon the police will be apt to infuse 
 into his official conduct some of the spirit of his own coun- 
 try, which may be averse to the claims of equal and exact 
 justice, and positively oppressive in regard to the helpless 
 and the poor. 
 
 PART TENTH. 
 
 A MURDERER LET LOOSE OX SOCIETY, TO KILL AT DISCRETION. 
 
 The above hen ding, however startling and improbable it 
 may seem, is not a fictitious creation of the writer's brain, 
 got up merely for effect ; but it involves a strange and pos- 
 itive fact, as the following true statement will show : — 
 
 About a year and a half ago, the keeper of a low grog- 
 shop in Frankfort street was one night, as usual, very 
 drunk on his own poisonous liquor, that abominable com- 
 pound, which, mounting into the brain, would render a man 
 capable of committing- almost any act of wickedness. The 
 
 name of this " landlord" was F . He had become rich 
 
 by his infernal traffic, and lorded it over the poor sots who 
 frequented his place, with all the pomposity of a monarch. 
 The rascal was a cripple, and hobbled about with a caue, 
 and with this cane he was accustomed to batter the heads 
 of all who came within his reach, who happened to incur 
 his royal displeasure. He and his wife were continually 
 fighting and quarrelling ; and his place was a perfect pic- 
 ture of " hell upon earth." Neighbors complained of his 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 105 
 
 crib as being' a disorderly house ; but, from some cause or 
 other which could not be discovered, he was permitted to 
 keep on without molestation. 
 
 Upon the night in question, the hour being very late^ 
 
 F proceeded to close his house. His " lodgers " tot 
 
 tered off to bed, while the "outsiders" prepared to leave. 
 One of the men was somewhat dilatory in getting out, 
 
 whereupon F rushed behind his bar, seized a pistol, 
 
 went up to the man, placed the muzzle of the weapon to his 
 neck, and deliberately shot him dead ! The poor victim fell 
 down upon the floor, and instantly expired. 
 
 The police soon arrived at the scene of bloodshed. There 
 upon the filthy floor, lay the victim of a ruffian's drunken 
 fury. Several half intoxicated wretches stood around, with 
 looks of bewilderment and fear. But where was the mur- 
 derer ? He was, after a strict search, found concealed in a 
 closet, grovelling like a coward and a villian as he was, and 
 stupidly imagining that the place would prove an asylum 
 of safety. He was dragged forth and lodged in the Tombs, 
 where he remained until brought before the Court, when a 
 most extraordinary proceeding took place — a proceeding 
 unprecedented in the annals of criminal jurisprudence. His 
 counsel moved for his discharge, on the ground that he was 
 " a respectable man, of considerable, property, whose business 
 ■would suffer from his further detention in prison ! ! !" But 
 the District Attorney insisted that bail should be furnished ; 
 — whereupon the Court admitted the murderer to $500 
 bail, and his own recognizances were accepted as security, 
 with the understanding that he was to appear before the 
 Court, and answer the charge, if ever he should be called upon ! 
 
 At the termination of this farce, F walked out of 
 
 Court, chuckling with satisfaction, and doubtless thinking 
 that murder in this country was a luxury that could be en- 
 
106 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 joyed at a very cheap rate. F- is a foreigner, (an 
 
 Englishman, we believe,) and bears upon his brutal coun- 
 tenance the impress of ferocity, low cunning, and all the 
 detestable vices that can disgrace humanity. 
 
 Of course, the scoundrel will never be called upon to 
 answer the atrocious charge. Now, is not this a terrible 
 state of affairs to contemplate ? A villain, with the blood 
 of a slaughtered victim fresh upon his hands and black upon 
 his soul, is brought before a legal tribunal and liberated ! 
 He then goes back to his death-trap, and resumes his career 
 of drunkenness and riot, tyrannizing over his degraded 
 " patrons," and frightening them into blind submission to 
 his will by such expressions as — "I've killed one man for 
 being cross-grained with me, and by G — , I'll kill another 1" 
 
 This is the " respectable man, whose business would suffer 
 by his detention in prison 1" Truly may we exclaim — 
 
 '■Oil Justice ! thou bast fled to brutish beasts, 
 And men have lost their reason !" 
 
 PART ELEVENTH. 
 
 THE HABIT OF DRUNKENNESS IS NOT A CRIME, BUT A MISFORTUNE. 
 
 The man who asserts that drunkenness is a crime, is 
 either a liar or a. fool. The inebriate is entitled to pity, but 
 he merits not condemnation, nor has he done anything de- 
 serving of punishment. Humane and enlightened legislators 
 should seek to accomplish his reformation, although bigoted 
 fanatics, in their blind zeal, are ever ready to dishearten 
 and crush him by legal enactments based upon their own 
 narrow views, unreasonable prejudices, and profound igno- 
 rance of human nature. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 107 
 
 What is crime ? It is that course of conduct on the part 
 of an individual or party, which conflicts with the order and 
 well-being of society — which destroys the honor and happi- 
 ness of others, wrests property from its rightful owners, 
 conspires against the public good, and jeopardizes the lives 
 of our fellow-beings. 
 
 " But," says the advocate of strong coercive measures for 
 the suppression of intemperance — " the habits of the drunk- 
 ard conflict with the order and well-being of society, and 
 destroy his own happiness and that of his family and 
 friends." 
 
 Granted ; — although these results do not always follow, 
 we are willing to admit the hypothesis, just for the sake of 
 argument. Allowing, then, that the drunkard does by his 
 couduct injure society and his own immediate circle of rela- 
 tives and friends, is he impelled to do so by malice or a de- 
 sire to inflict the wrong ? The intention to do wrong is 
 what constitutes crime. A man snaps a pistol at you, but 
 the charge fails to explode, and you are unharmed ; but 
 nevertheless he meant to do you an injury, and the law regards 
 his conduct as a, crime. Again : — a man shoots you by ac- 
 cident, and wounds you sorely ; but he did not intend to 
 hurt you, and the law holds him gailtless. The law is ex- 
 ceedingly exact in its distinctions on these points ; it seeks 
 to look into the heart of an accused party, to see if there 
 existed any " malice prepense," or mischief deliberately 
 contrived before the commission of the act. 
 
 The drunkard is induced to drink by his own perverted 
 appetite, aud not by a wish to injure any one. There is no 
 intention to torong his fellow beings, in his heart ; — therefore 
 he is no criminal, aud commits no crime. To punish him 
 with as much severity as if he were a thief, is at once impo- 
 litic, unjust aud barbarously cruel 
 
108 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 He is simply an unfortunate man, afflicted with a ruinous 
 infirmity, and requiring both physical and moral remedies. 
 
 "He is a lunatic," says Fanaticism — "and should be 
 restrained ; a prison cell is the safest place for a man when 
 he becomes dangerous to himstlf and others:" 
 
 Not so fast, friend ; he is only a lunatic while the spell 
 of intoxication is on him. Lock him up, if you will, until 
 he becomes sober and is a man again, with all the feelings 
 of a human being. Then treat him as a human being ought 
 to be treated. He is endowed with intellect — reason with 
 him ; he has feelings —appeal to them ; convince him of 
 the error of his ways, and by moral suasion try to reform 
 him, but do not abuse him, imprison him, starve him — that 
 course of treatment, instead of reforming him, will sink him 
 still deeper into the mire of his degradation, and make a 
 worse drunkard of him, if possible, than he was before. 
 
 Pity, then, the drunkard ; — take him by the hand, and 
 strive to lead him into the path of sobriety. You may not 
 be an inebriate, but you have your faults, as well as he. 
 You would consider it base injustice to be utterly condemned 
 for a single fault, and that fault the result of mere habit, 
 not of innate wickedness. Remember that " to err is human 
 — to forgive, divine." 
 
 The habit of drunkenness, when persisted in, is a great — 
 an overwhelming misfortune. It deprives a man of his best 
 friends ; it breaks up families, and severs the husband from 
 his wife ; it destroys all confidence in him ; it takes away 
 his self-respect; it ruins his reputation and health; it reduces 
 him to rags and beggary ; it converts him into an object of 
 public ridicule and contempt ; it impairs the intellect, and 
 deadens the noble and God-like faculties of thought and 
 reason ; and it places him completely at the mercy of every 
 cowardly and swindling scoundrel who is base enough to take 
 
A KEY TO THE MODKKN BAST1LK. 
 
 109 
 
 advanluge. of his melancholy infirmity. The white-livered 
 poltroon may abuse him with impunity, while the speculat- 
 ing and designing knave can easily make a tool of him in 
 every shape and manner. 
 
 The conlirmed drunkard suffers — ah ! how terribly no 
 tongue but his can tell ; — while the rum-seller who proffers 
 the damnable temptation, and raises the reeking cup of 
 horror to the inebriate's lips — he grows rich, and becometh 
 much respected, and hath honors heaped upon him ; while 
 he deserves 
 
 But stop ! we must not keep on in this strain, or we shall 
 lose our temper, and become indignant. Besides, we do 
 not mean to preach a temperance sermon by any means, 
 our only object being to prove that the drunkard is not a 
 criminal, but a most unfortunate man. 
 
 The following thoughts flash across our mind just at the 
 present moment, and we aie tempted to write them out, as 
 they will occupy but little space : — 
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DOOM. 
 
 A sound of woe salutes my ear, 
 
 Sad misery meets my eye ; — 
 I see the loLiely widort 's tear, 
 
 I hear the orphan's sigh — 
 And houseless children shivering stand, 
 
 With brows of haggard'grief — 
 With hungry look and outstretdi'd hand, 
 
 Sue humbly tor relief. 
 
 Oh ! what, with pestilential breath, 
 
 Sends thousands to their doom, 
 (Dread cause of foul disease and death,) 
 
 Unto an early tomb ? 
 Intemperance ! whose fiery waves 
 
 Engulph its victims there, 
 And sink into their early graves 
 
 The young— the brave — thefairt 
 
110 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 Oh ! drink not of the fatal draught, 
 
 Avoid the poison'd bowl, 
 Or soon will sorrow's keenest shaft 
 
 Pierce to thy very soul— 
 And wretchedness and dark despair 
 
 Shall then thy frame consume — 
 Oh ! be it ever then thy care 
 
 To shun the drunkard's doara . 
 
 PART TWELFTH. 
 
 THE KIND OF MEN THAT GET DRUNK, AND THE REASON WHY THEY 
 DO IT. 
 
 That there can be no effect without an adequate cause, is 
 a fact, both morally and mechanically, which is very gener- 
 ally received and admitted. Every man who resigns him- 
 self to the exhilarating influences of the intoxicating bowl, 
 has a primary cause for so doing. He drinks because he 
 loves the taste of spirituous liquors, or, what is more proba- 
 ble, because he likes the stimulating effects which they pro- 
 duce—or he "indulges" because he is thrown into jovial 
 company, and don't like to appear odd by refusing to drink 
 a glass or two in good fellowship — or he " smiles" because 
 the wea ther is exceedingly warm, and he is thirsty, and cold 
 water is dangerous unless diluted with brandy, "just a few 
 drops to take the chill off" — or he " imbibes" because it is 
 such terribly cold weather, and hot whiskey punch is so 
 warming to the stomach — or he " takes a tod" to cheer him 
 up, for he's had the blue devils all day — or he "absorbs" 
 because he's in trouble, and wants to drown sorrow — or he 
 lias been drank over night, his nerves are shaking, he must 
 
A KEY TO THE MODEKN BASTILE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 have his bitters and keep stimulated up — in short, every 
 drinking man can point to the cause of his drinking, no 
 matter whether he be a moderate tippler or a confirmed sot 
 — no matter whether he smacks his lips over ten cent brandy 
 in fashionable saloons, or gulps down his three-cent " burn- 
 ing fluid" in a vile Dutch grocery. 
 
 All classes of men get drunk, occasionally if not fre- 
 quently, from the very highest down to the very lowest. 
 The magistrate upon the bench is sometimes a much more 
 drunken man than the prisoner whom he is committing for 
 intoxication. The learned Judge, after sentencing a crim- 
 inal, and giving him the benefit of a long moral lecture, goes 
 home, dines, and guzzles wine until he tumbles into bed as 
 drunk as any white man ought to be. The player gets half 
 drunk, because he imagines that the stimulating beverage 
 will infuse fire and animation into his acting ; and perhaps 
 it is so, in very many cases. Who would be willing to 
 swear that that the popular clergyman does not take a few 
 drops of " good stuff'," before entering his pulpit, so that 
 the spirit may move him to preach-vvith eloquence and effect? 
 The man of toil — the working slave— drinks, because the 
 contemplation of the future sheds no ray of hope or joy 
 upon his heart, and there is no prospect before him but one 
 of crushing labor, until the day of his death — and oh ! who 
 can blame that toil-worn man, if he strives to forget, tem- 
 porarily, his uuh. ppy state, by an indulgence in that which 
 will for a time lighten- his heart of its load of sorrow ? 
 Condemn him not too hastily, ye wealthy snobs, who roll in 
 wealth ; for it is well known that the habit of intemperance 
 is not exclusively confined to the lower class of society. 
 The aristocracy often indulge in a " drop too much." It is 
 our opinion that a great deal more drunkenness exists 
 among the " upper ten" then among the " lower twenty." 
 
112 TEN DAYS JS THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 Only, here is the difference : the rich man gets drunk in 
 private, and his lolly is not seen, except by a few of his 
 immediate connections and acquaintances, who never will 
 expose him. The poor man, who keeps no wine-cellar or 
 vault stored with old Otard Brandy, gets drunk in a pub- 
 lic bar-room, and while staggering home, is seen by every 
 body, and perhaps nabbed by the police, in which case he is 
 still further exposed by the publication of his name in some of 
 the newspapers. By the way, this publishing a man's name in 
 the papers when he has been guilty of nothing but intoxi- 
 cation, is a most rascally piece of business, as useless as it is 
 pernicious, for the public care nothing about such informa- 
 tion, while at the same time the exposure injures a man's 
 business prospects and personal reputation, deprives him of 
 energy and self-respect, and confirms him in his career of 
 intemperance. 
 
 Among mechanics, the best workmen are often drinking 
 men, while the slow botch is usually a sober man. There 
 are few employers, in any branch of business, who have not 
 found this to be an absolute fact. Some men do not seem 
 to possess brains enough to get drunk with ! — their dull, 
 leaden intellects cannot be penetrated or softened by the 
 fumes of strong drink. Perhaps these respectable and 
 sober donkeys are happier and more fortunate than the vo- 
 taries of Bacchus ; but we have a far higher regard for 
 the man of intelligence, intellect and genius, even though 
 he bo an occasional associate of the eccentric imp who 
 dwelleth in the mystic depths of the bottle — that lively, 
 mischievous elf who showers quaint conceits upon the page 
 of the author— who dances in the brain of the poet* like a 
 
 * Byron, it is said, wrote several of his best poems and miscellaneous composi- 
 tions under the influence of Gin; but it is not slated whether his lordship's liquor 
 was imported or domestic. 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 113 
 
 fairy sprite in the moonbeams — and who laughingly comes 
 to crown the brow with a wreath of roses ; — but ah ! those 
 roses conceal many a sharp pointed thorn ! 
 
 A man who is constantly engaged in literary pursuits is 
 peculiarly liable to become addicted to habits of intemper- 
 ance, unless he exercises an immense degree of self-control. 
 Take for instance, a writer who has been busily employed, 
 with his pen all day long, drawing upon his mind and imag- 
 ination for materials with which to entertain his readers. As 
 evening approaches, or as soon as his task is finished, he 
 throws down his pen with a sensation of relief which is 
 almost indescribable. Perhaps he has been writing on some 
 subject that does not interest him personally, but which 
 nevertheless, is looked for with eagerness by the mass of the 
 reading community. His mind is fagged, tired and worn 
 out — but, as he has been seated all day long at his desk, 
 his body needs exercise — lie craves some excitement — he 
 feels that he needs something to enliven him — he goes, per- 
 haps, to the theatre — mingles with jovial and congenial 
 companions — and drinks. Drinking soon becomes a habit 
 with him ; a habit which he finds very hard to break off. 
 If, unfortunately, he becomes regularly dissipated, he is at 
 once converted into an object of general public censure ; 
 and how apt then are thick-headed dolts — who do not and 
 cannot understand him — to say — 
 
 " It's a shame to see a man of his talent throw himself 
 away so ? He's got no excuse — he ought to be ashamed of 
 himself 1" 
 
 It is indeed melancholy to reflect upon the number of in- 
 tellectual men who have been destroyed by this one fatal 
 habit. Some of the very best writers this country has ever 
 produced, have been prematurely cut off by the insatiable 
 Demon of Alcohol, who selects for his victims the most 
 
114 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS I OE, 
 
 talented and gifted of the land, as if ordinary mortals were 
 not dainty fare enough for him. Ah ! many a noble and god- 
 like mind have we seen in ruins, like the crumbling relics of 
 a once magnificent temple, still retaining some few traces 
 of its former classic beauty, which, however, only serve to 
 remind the beholder of those transcendant glories which 
 have fled forever ! 
 
 PART THIRTEENTH. 
 
 A FEW HUMBLE SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CONSIDERATION OF THE 
 BENEVOLENT. 
 
 This is an age in which the prevalence of Christian phi- 
 lanthropy is supposed to be doing an infinite amount of 
 good, in the way of ameliorating and improving the religious 
 moral, social and physical condition of mankind, all over the 
 globe. Men of vast wealth, possessed of what are called 
 enlightened and liberal views, are almost continually be- 
 stowing thousands upon institutions established for the ad- 
 vancement of learning and science — while immense sums are 
 annually raised and expended in the support of foreign mis- 
 sions. This is all very well, and highly creditable, in itself ; 
 but those who devote their time and money to such exten- 
 sive charities, should not lose sight of the fact that here, in 
 their very midst, are hundreds and thousands of unfortunate 
 men and women who have a claim upon their practical bene- 
 volence — a claim far superior and more binding than can be 
 possessed by any college, or missionary society, which are in 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 115 
 
 many cases well able to take care of themselves, without 
 receiving pecuniary aid from the wealthy. The unfortunate 
 class to which we allude is composed of inebriates, who con- 
 stitute a considerable portion of this city's population, and 
 whose condition, with the best means of bringing about their 
 reformation, are certainly worthy of the careful attention of 
 those good people who are anxious to benefit the souls and 
 bodies of their fallen fellow creatures. 
 
 This is what we have to propose : — 
 
 In the first place, abandon at once and forever the atro- 
 cious system of imprisoning men and women for intoxica- 
 tion, the same as if they were thieves and murderers. 
 Draw a deep and broad line of distinction between the 
 mere drunkard and the crime-stained felon. The former has 
 committed folly; but the latter has perpetrated black wick- 
 edness. Let the first be pitied and helped to reform ; but 
 let the second become acquainted with dungeons, and fet- 
 ters, and the ignominy of a branded name, for he deserves 
 them. Such punishments are for him, and him alone. 
 
 In the second place, establish upon avast and noble scale 
 an institution, which, for the sake of convenience, we will 
 now designate as the "Hive of Industry." It matters not 
 whether it be sustained by public or private munificence — 
 we say, let it be established. Place over it some man of 
 intelligence, of education, of integrity, of honor, of humanity. 
 Let all the subordinate officers be men of similar exalted 
 qualifications. Let the institution embrace within its lim- 
 its, the necessary implements and facilities for carrying on 
 the mechanical and other branches of industry. Make it, 
 in short, a vast work-shop, in which all kinds of men and 
 women can be profitably employed. 
 
 In connection with the working department of the insti- 
 tution, erect a large building in which the operatives may 
 
116 
 
 TKN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OK, 
 
 board. Let all the arrangements be plain, substantial and 
 calculated to secure perfect cleanliness and abundant ven- 
 tilation. Let the kitchen be sufficiently commodious, and 
 provided with the means of preparing an ample supply of 
 plain and wholesome food. A laundry, bath-rooms, chapel, 
 hospital, &c, must not be forgotten. It is scarcely neces- 
 sary for us to suggest that every arrangement must be made 
 with a view to the strict separation of the men from the 
 women. The latter class, by the way, should be placed un- 
 der the care of a respectable and experienced matron. 
 The females could be suitably employed in sewing, washing, 
 mending, &c. 
 
 When this Institution shall be established and in readi- 
 ness to receive inmates, let it become a receptacle for drun- 
 kards of both sexes — an asylum where they may be re- 
 strained from indulgence in drink — where they may be 
 comfortably provided for — and where they will be required 
 to labor for their own support, according to the best of 
 their several capacities. Let us suppose a case, by way of 
 illustration: — A man is taken np drunk in the streets ; his 
 clothes are ragged and dirty; his system is reduced by 
 want of food, and his nerves are shattered by excessive* 
 drinking. Now, were he to be thrust into a prison cell, 
 without medical attendance or proper nourishment, this 
 man would probably die. But we suggest a more humane 
 policy. Let the magistrate send him to the institution 
 whose outlines we have attempted to plan out; here let him 
 be thoroughly cleansed, and furnished with clean clothing 
 ■ — not the degrading uniform of a prison, but the plain gar- 
 ments of a working man. He will probably require the at- 
 tendance of a physician, for when a hard drinker abruptly 
 ceases his potations, the most tremendous consequences of- 
 ten ensue — as delirium tremens, a malady as frightful as 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 117 
 
 hydrophobia. Judicious medical treatment, and proper 
 nourishment, will in most cases restore the man to his ordi- 
 nary state of health. When he is thoroughly recovered, he 
 must be made intimately acquainted with all the rules and 
 regulations of the House, and let it be firmly impressed upon 
 his mind that these rules and regulations must be obeyed. 
 Then if he is a blacksmith, a carpenter, or any other kind 
 of mechanic, set him to work at his own trade. If he has 
 no regular calling, put him at something for which he seems 
 most suitable. Require him to work industriously, and, (if 
 possible,) cheerfully. Let him have good books with 
 which to amuse his leisure hours, and give him moral and 
 religious instructions. Inspire him with that feeling of 
 self-respect, without which he never can reform. Let him 
 be governed by the blessed law of kindness. Encourage 
 and in some proper way reward his good conduct; but 
 punish any breach of decorum or discipline on his part. 
 When it is deemed proper to discharge him, send him forth 
 into the world a respectable-looking and healthy man ; — 
 assist him in procuring employment; — and then, if he falls 
 back into his old habits, you have at all events the satisfac- 
 tion of knowing that you have done your duty. 
 
 Will not all this be infinitely better than to thrust a man 
 into prison, starve and abuse him, and then, at the end of 
 ten days, to send him forth with his person in a horribly 
 filthy state, his limbs tottering with the weakness caused by 
 hunger, his character and prospects blasted by the exposure 
 of his name in the newspapers, and his heart made despe- 
 rate by the remembrance of the foul wrongs which have 
 been inflicted upon him. 
 
 Here is another important point: — The man, we will say, 
 has a family dependant upon him for support Cast him 
 into prison, and that family must either starve, or be taken 
 
118 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OE, 
 
 care of by the authorities, at the public expense. But 
 send him to our proposed Hue of Industry, and devote a 
 portion of his earnings to the support of his family. This 
 will induce him — if he is any man at all — to labor cheerful- 
 ly and industriously; — this will inspire him with a feeling 
 of independence, calculated to elevate his nature and re- 
 form his evil habits. Let him know that he is working for 
 the benefit of those whom he loves, who will remember him 
 with gratitude during the period of his detention, and who 
 will receive him with open arms and joyous hearts when he 
 is restored to them. Permit his friends and relatives to vi- 
 sit him at stated times, and in all things treat him, not as a 
 prisoner who is to be punished, but as a moral patient who 
 is to be cured — as a fallen man who is to be reclaimed. 
 
 If he has no family, devote a part of his surplus earnings 
 to the formation of a little fund which shall give him a 
 start in life. Invest the money in such manner that he 
 cannot expend it for improper purposes ;— see that he makes 
 a good use of it. 
 
 With proper management, such an Institution could be 
 made to pay for itself. And think of the immense amount 
 of good which it would be the means of effecting ! One 
 such establishment would reform more drunkards than all 
 the prisons in the United States put together. Its influ- 
 ence, instead of filling the heart of a man with despair, 
 would infuse into that heart the light of hope — a light 
 which would be as a beacon to guide him into the path of 
 temperance and happiness. 
 
 We earnestly hope that this subject may meet with the 
 attention which its immense importance demands. The 
 plan which we have suggested is necessarily imperfect and 
 superficial ; but let it be filled out and carried into effect 
 by the far-reaching wisdom of our public-spirited men and 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 119 
 
 wealthy philanthropists, and the " blessings of those who 
 are ready to perish " will reward such a noble effort in be- 
 half of suffering humanity. 
 
 PART FOURTEENTH. 
 
 THE PRISONER WHO DIDN'T WANT TO BE LOCKED OUT. 
 
 The following anecdote may amuse the reader, especially 
 as we assure him that it is perfectly true in every particu- 
 lar : — 
 
 Several years ago, a friend of ours, who was at that time 
 " one of the boys," became involved in a row which result- 
 ed in his being sentenced to undergo an imprisonment of 
 ten days in the City Prison, alias " The Tombs." The in- 
 ternal arrangements of the establishment were then quite 
 different from those which at present exist ; and persons 
 sentenced to imprisonment in the Tombs for trifling offences, 
 had no reason to complain of harsh treatment. 
 
 Our friend enjoyed the honor of a personal acquaintance 
 with several of the officers, who granted him every indul- 
 gence. On the first clay of his incarceration, while he was 
 loitering about the yard, quite at his ease, and amusing 
 himself as best he could, one of the gentlemen in authority 
 came up and thus addressed him : — 
 
 " What the devil's the use of your loafing around here 
 — say ? You won't work, and I don't blame you ; — and 
 yon are in everybody's way. Clear out, and go about your 
 business, wherever you d — d please ; only give me your 
 
120 
 
 TEN DAYS IN THE TOMBS : OB, 
 
 word that you will come back here every night ; that' will 
 be sufficient to answer the reqirements of the law." 
 
 Our friend promised, as a matter of course, for the 
 streets were pleasanter than that prison yard ; and besides 
 he had business to attend to, which might suffer in his ab- 
 sence. Therefore, he gladly embraced the kind offer of the 
 prison functionary, who passed him out into the street and 
 left him to go in whatever direction he saw fit. 
 
 The fortunate prisoner — whom we shall call " The 
 Scribe " — went about his regular occupation as if nothing 
 had happened. Much astonished was the gentleman to 
 whom he had gratuitously presented a black eye, and who 
 had been instrumental in causing The Scribe to receive the 
 sentence of ten days— and who, moreover, had especially 
 rejoiced in the belief that his assailant was undergoing 
 penance in the Tombs — much astonished, we say, was the 
 victim with the pictorial eye, when he beheld our friend at 
 liberty in the street, and was greeted by him with a bland 
 smile of recognition and a profound bow ! 
 
 " Thunder ! " muttered the bewildered victim, as he 
 abruptly turned a neighboring corner and vanished as if he 
 feared that his other optic might also be dressed in mourn- 
 ing — " that chap was only sentenced this morning to ten 
 days in the Tombs, and here he is out already, strutting 
 about as big as if he owned all New York ! He must 
 have sent a special messenger to Albany, to get a pardon 
 from the Governor. I swear, that ain't right, no how !" 
 
 And the victim groaned as he adjusted over his damaged 
 organ of vision the piece of raw beef which he had 
 placed there, to draw out the inflammation. 
 
 Our friend went punctually " home " that night, at a rea- 
 sonable hour. (In using the word home in this case, we 
 mean of course the Tombs.) He was left to select his 
 
A KEY TO THE MODERN BASTILE. 
 
 121 
 
 own sleeping apartment, and took up his quarters in an 
 unoccupied ce'l in which he was so fortunate as to find a 
 good bed and clean blankets. 
 
 The next night — and the next — The Scribe won the 
 commendations of the night door-keeper of the Tombs, 
 by the punctuality with which he presented himself for ad- 
 mission to his lodging-house. 
 
 " That's a steady young man," said the venerable door- 
 keeper — "he comes home reg'lar and doesn't keep late 
 hours. He's a hornament to the prison, he is." 
 
 But one night The Scribe went to the theatre, and ar- 
 rived home rather inebriated, and at a late hour. The old 
 door-keeper being asleep, our friend had considerable diffi- 
 culty in gaining admission, which he only did by knocking 
 violently. The door-keeper growled, but said nothing. It 
 was evident, however, that his confidence in the virtue and 
 steadiness of The Scribe was slightly shaken. 
 
 The next night, it was past one o'clock when our friend 
 went home — and, alas ! he was very drunk. The door- 
 keeper no longer attempted to restrain his wrath in view 
 of such irregular conduct. Assuming the stern air which 
 is usually adopted by the " hoary old father " in the play, 
 he said — 
 
 " Young man, I've stood this nonsense long enough. 
 Hereafter, if you don't come at a decent hour, I'll be d — d 
 if I don't lock you out altogether /" 
 
 This threat produced the desired effect ; and, during the 
 remainder of the ten days, The Sribe went home early 
 every night, tolerably sober. 
 
122 
 
 TEN DATS IN THE TOMBS I OK, 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Reader our task is completed, entirely to our own satisfac- 
 tion, and we trust to yours also. If we have succeeded in 
 amusing you, that is well ; if we have afforded you any 
 information or given yon any instruction, that is better ; if 
 we have opened your eyes to the secret enormities that ex- 
 ist in the very heart of this community, that is best of all, 
 and our object in writing this little work is fully accom- 
 plished. 
 
 With regard to the foregoing pages, let us borrow the 
 hope so quaintly expressed by Goldsmith's amiable Vicar of 
 Wakefield, that " if we have not had much leit, we have 
 had plenty of laughing." 
 
 Reader, a word or two of advice at parting. If you 
 must drink, take that alone which is good — be moderate in 
 your potations — never mix liquors — attend to your regular 
 meals — pursue an irreproachable course of conduct in the 
 sight of God and man, and, above all things, beware of 
 
 TEN DATS IN THE TOMBS. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Im- :.-pj»^ '•■-Vrv .'.;>;ta.. | ft* teuton y deliu- 
 
 me;>>. i-amjTK-, viwtry. i 1 ^' ty ttttd -H : «»n^ept*tii^^Sgj-' 
 
 vet;, eri F*}ei,ud.'ty po>.uWt,lc.ir: ; Th.; v^etf^ac'nc of t*K* ; certain the 
 
 •PifjB»w r'.ui.r,i. . j My ... tl< • UjkrS) partu- 
 
 Jino> , ^*-t% J .rJt-»^niM* r.:" i'uc fr-r^. ! V.li'ii^ <leii,..ry ( ■-'»r^ , :j' i'r>i»t-^Tj>rrCouch- 
 
 t«u'.:tL''a.- ■.'•itr«t<.~; : - ..o >r. -diking. 
 
 en^ixt^^^ AVifJ-^'-'G-fv:;- *t«;re- «t '^ u - ; - ' „■ - ' :: - *&ti t*:" v: i ".5oe>tion ot 
 ta'V ! i ; " _. • 
 
 \ '- i /■ :^-,, «om j conjugal and Parental duties. 
 
 reg\j£zibg iirenuniber ot a tamily 
 
 A lecture on love, or a Private advice to Married Ladies and Gentlemen. (X. 
 B. This lecture alone was sold to the nobility of Euroj>e at a guinea apiece.) 
 
 It teaches how to increase and improve the human species 
 
 Interspersed with recipes for the preservation aud exaltation of personal beauty 
 and loveliness ! 
 
 It teaches how to prolong human life, healthily and happily, to the very long- 
 est period of human existence: endowing every man and wonernwith the health 
 oflieauty ; The Condensed Light: The Lite of the Body: The Love of the Soul; 
 The Magnet o:" Love ; The Essence of Ages ; The Liquor of Life ; and the Pabulum, 
 or Food of all Pleasure. 
 
 How to beget olfspring. 
 
 A brief ex eosition of the nature and treatment of the contagious and other dis- 
 eases of the sexual and urinary organs. 
 
 To be had at our office. Price one dollar — or sent by mail to any part 
 of the world, oa receipt of the price in a letter, free of charge. Let no 
 one be without this book. 
 
 P. F. HARRIS, Publisher, 298 Broadway, NY. 
 
 PARTICULAR NOTICK. 
 
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 Saturday, atone dollar a year. — Any person sending two dollars for two 
 s .ascriptions to the Belle one year, or for four subscriptions to the Belli: 
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 All letters must be directed to 
 
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 No. 2U8 Broadway ! N. Y. 
 
D ITS 1 
 
 "wntcFWunaoubwu taieul and v vidu spread eelebvity, ., Ji- 
 be found, on perusal, to be one of the most strange and 
 thrilling narratives ever issued from the press. Written in 
 a glowing and graceful manner, the writer has powerfully 
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 tke crimes of I he upper circles of society, more particularly as 
 s en among the aristocracy at our first class N . York Hotels. 
 His theme, however, has been chiefly furnished by the gor- 
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 pl.;ce ill r. m, are related with a racy freedom and a capa- 
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 This is emphatically 0 
 
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 latter of whom is carried off from the bridal chamber by 
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 terrible rev< nge on the seducer of his wife; these and nume- 
 rous other thrilling matters constitute the foundation of 
 Iffle story, which is handsomely priuted on line paper, and 
 beautifully illustrated with appropriate engravings. 
 
 Sent by mail on receipt of twenty-live cents in a letter. 
 
 Address, P. F. HARRIS. 
 
 298 Broadway, New York. 
 
 P. S. — Those iu the city can have It by calling or send- 
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