NB: Whilst in the "depths of Dunedin," the "Vagrant" makes certian observations with regard to the Chinese population of the city of the time. His opinions are his and of his time. This writer does not sympathise with them.
THE DEPTHS OF DUNEDIN.
Dear Jack, — You remember when we parted — I to cast my lot on the unknown waters of Dunedin, and you to prosecute your peaceful avocation in the fields — I undertook to furnish you with my impressions and experiences of the metropolis of Otago. After a stay of almost a week, I found that the impressions which I had received were of the most prosaic description, while my experiences had been nothing out of the common. Finding this to be the case, I made up my mind to leave the ordinary rut and endeavor to obtain a view of the “Night side” of the City, so fair to look upon by day, and plumb the lower depths of life which, shrouded by darkness, and remote from law-abiding people by the nature of things, were hidden from the common eye. “Therefore,” I said to myself, “I will be a drunkard, for one night only, get myself locked up, if possible, as a casual offender against sobriety, and see what life is like behind the cell door.” Having made this resolve, and a very disinterested one I flattered myself it was, being undertaken solely for your delectation, the next step was to carry it into effect. Unfortunately for my project, my name and avocation were known to one of the force, and I knew that he was on night duty at the particular time, therefore he had to be avoided. No doubt, I might have obtained permission from the authorities to pass the night in a cell and become witness to the customary proceedings, but in that case I should have been treated specially as a guest, whereas my object was to be treated as a common “drunk,” get arrested in the usual way, and fare as ordinary prisoners do. My first step was to divest myself of every particle of evidence which might lead to my identification. The usual litter of a literary man’s pockets, such as letters, old envelopes, note book, etc., I carefully removed, and in their stead left only a soiled and crumpled letter addressed to the fictitious person whose name I was about to assume for the nonce, I also divested myself of all the other tokens of affluence which I usually wear (hem!), and I flattered myself, when my preparations were complete, that I looked shabby enough even to roll about the street in a state of inebriety, or, more correctly, ebriety. This done, I waited until a suitably late hour, for I did not desire unnecessary publicity, and sallied forth in search of a policeman sufficiently enthusiastic in his business to “run me in.” It was a wild night. A keen and biting wind swept along the almost deserted streets, causing the lamps to flicker fitfully and spasmodically illumine the footpaths, shining wet with the frequent, icy showers. At every corner the wind would eddy and make it appear that the phenomenon of blowing from all points of the compass at once was really in operation. “That nicht a bairn micht understand the Deil had business on his han’.” I first tried Maclaggan street, where the police station is situated, but on the principle, I suppose, of “The nearer the church the farther from grace,” not a glimpse could I obtain of the desiderated bull’s eye, nor a sound discern of the footstep which seems peculiar to policemen on night duty. It occurs to me at this point that this peculiarity has been noted by the London police authorities, and the men are, or at least were to be, shod with rubber-soled boots, which would obviate the echoing sounds serving as a warning to would-be evil doers. Every policeman will then be his own Nemesis. Having drawn a blank in Maclaggan street, I next turned my attention to Rattray street, and staggered along from the corner to opposite Cargill’s Monument, fatuously holding on to verandah posts, and falling against window shutters in a limp and helpless manner. Still no sign. Then I betook myself up Princes street, taking the whole of the footpath on my devious way, pausing and leaning now and then against a doorway, ostensibly to take my bearings. I was much amused when, during one of these frequent pauses in my erratic journey, and simply leaning against a doorway, some young men passed me and said to one another; “There’s another sore head in the morning, I’ll bet.” After a little time I heard the welcome sound of a policeman’s step, and right glad I was, because this sort of thing was getting slow and cold; so I staggered out into view, and almost fell “safe in the arms of a policeman,” and ejaculated: “ Hallo! hie, bobby; how’s your mother?” In an instant the bull’s-eye flashed on me, and from a slightly-amused face came the question “What’s the matter with you?” “Damfino” was all I apparently could say, all the time swaying gravely from side to side, and spitting as if tormented with a still ungratified thirst.
My first idea was to “chaff ” the policeman so that he would get angry and arrest me, but for the life of me I could not muster sufficient seriousness, the fellow’s face was so kindly, so I hung my head and expressed my intention of going to sleep somewhere. “That’s right,” he said approvingly; “you go and have a sleep somewhere, and you’ll be all right in the morning.” His impression evidently was that I could take care of myself, although a little top-heavy but I had an uneasy suspicion, from a twinkle I saw in his eyes, that he saw through my device, and my opinion of my own histrionic abilities fell to zero. As soon as he left me I sat down on the Dowling street steps, and sat in a flaccid manner for his sole benefit, as I imagined he watched me from an opposite verandah. It was now past midnight, and I soon got tired of inaction and began to feel the cold. At that time it was the toss up of a penny whether this chapter of my life would ever be written or not. My own comfortable bed was invitingly near, and the prospect of attaining my object seemed more remote than ever. However, I determined to go as far as the Octagon, and did so, walking as drunkenly as possible in case one of my friends should be taking shelter in a doorway; still no result. I then took shelter behind the steps of the Town Hall, and awaited further developments. From my concealment I could observe how some estimable citizens had terminated their evening, and I could hardly refrain from laughing outright at the portly and majestic air of one in particular, who was much indebted to his walking-stick for even the partial retention of his equilibrium. He stood and soliloquised and talked municipal politics to the vacant portico of the building, and had evidently been to an enthusiastic committee meeting. I remained here a long time, and again set forward on my return journey. Standing on the footpath, about the middle of the Octagon, was a group of young men and young women, and their language, in the words of Bret Harte, “was frequent and painful and free.” One of the young men appeared to think I was his respected “parient,” and prepared to slip away, until reassured by a loud guffaw from one of the women on my nearer approach, and her exclamation “Your father be _____.” I did feel rather sorry for a moment that I was not that young man’s father. When I had got nearly as far as the Dowling street crossing on my way back I again met my friendly policeman. “Hallo! are you here again?” he said. “Why don’t you go home?” I maundered something about having no home to go to, but he again left me with kindly advice to go to bed. Now, thought I, “it is all up”; I may as well go home, and get admission to the watch-house some other night by the legitimate method of permission of the authorities. But, still hoping, I leaned against the window of the Excelsior Hotel, and in a few minutes was unexpectedly gratified by hearing the step of, not one, but two policemen. I was on the Dowling street frontage, and as soon as they came abreast of me the nearer one caught sight of me and darted forward with “What’s this?” He seized me by the collar and straightened me up, asking me what was the matter. I made some maudlin reply and then, in order, I suppose, to test whether I really was drunk or not he gave me a ringing smack on the ear with his open hand. This sent my hat (already carefully bruised in) flying over the footpath, and revealed the fact that my head was bald. The destitution of hirsute covering on my cranium so tickled my captor that he gave me another smack in the region of my organ of veneration. I suppose these tests are necessary before a policeman can be certain a man is drunk. I know there are some funny tests. For instance, it is said that a publican on the West Coast, having been fined for supplying drunken men with liquor, instituted a rule that no person who could not balance himself on a porter bottle would get a drink in his house. But it is right that people should know the risk of these tests. For example, When I received the second sounding blow on my denuded caput the old Adam was roused to such an extent that I very nearly abandoned my night’s scheme, and as my assailant stood over me I had such an opening for a one-two on his floating ribs, as, taken advantage of, would have doubled him up. But I restrained myself, and my hat was restored to me and fixed in situ with a third hard clap. Seized by the collar, I was now formally under arrest. A slight tendency which I displayed to lurch, in order to carry out the illusion more perfectly, was promptly corrected by a smart application of the constable’s knee to the small of my back, and after that I was a little more nearly sober. On our way to the watch-house we had a nice little discussion as to the class of apartment he would assign to me at the “hotel.” He had three classes, varying in price from 10s downwards, and I ebriously acquiesced. I would have another whisky, and he promised that I should get it “inside.” All this was a splendid pantomime to me, but the most trying ordeal was to come. I had yet to face the keen eye of the watch-house keeper in the bright gaslight of the office, and I was sufficiently acquainted with the routine to know that he must be satisfied of the soundness of the charge before he locked me up; and I feared this the more because sundry remarks about “reporter’s little games” by my captor led me to fear retaliation on me for my proposed “sell.” I therefore adhered to the “heavy-headed” policy, and when duly presented hung my head over the rail which faces the desk. Much to my satisfaction the official was satisfied of the bona fides of my condition, and proceeded to enter in his book the substance of the constable’s business like remark: “He’s charged with being drunk in Dowling street.” Then my captor braced me up against a side table and searched me, all the while “chaffing” me about “seeing life,” etc.; but I knew that now the matter had reached the present stage the laugh was on the other side. The following articles were duly withdrawn from my pockets, I all the time tacitly consenting: - Item, one knife, one pipe, one handkerchief, one piece of lead pencil, one penny, and one letter addressed “John Dacre, Tapanui, Southland.” This was the name I had assumed for the evening, and as John Dacre I was duly entered in the book. I was now tolerably secure, for I knew that the entry, once made, must be corroborated by subsequent ones, and that I would now be kept at all hazards. But I did not therefore abandon the character I had assumed. I loudly demanded to be shown to my bed, and ordered imaginary whiskys hot for an unlimited company. I was conducted to the cell I was to occupy for the night, and found to my surprise and disappointment that it was already occupied by a bona fide “drunk.” I had not bargained for such close proximity to the real article, but said nothing. Blankets were brought in, spread on the floor, I was safely deposited in them, and my attendants withdrew, bolting the door after them with much clashing and clanking. In the door was a small square hole, and through this opening the light from the office nearly opposite gleamed with an angry glare on the whitewashed wall. The light so gained feebly illumined the cell, and enabled me to judge that it was about six feet wide, twice as long, and had a roof sloping from about eight to ten feet high. Above the hole in the door was a double row of four auger holes about each in diameter; while in the ceiling I could faintly discern a circular opening about the size of a stove pipe, - presumably for the escape of foul, heated air. Of course, I had no opportunity of seeing what was the appearance of the person upon whose privacy I was so suddenly and unceremoniously thrust. By the way, however, in which he moaned, and tossed, and stertorously breathed it could easily be gathered that he had been very drunk indeed, and that he would shortly awake to find himself suffering the tortures of the condemned. I dreaded that awakening, for I knew that it would be attended with nausea, and I could not get any distance away owing to the narrowness of the cell. So I sat up resolutely in the farthest corner, and, covering my feet, began to wait the dawning of day, still, alas! several hours distant. A sickening odor pervaded the place, partly due to the bad spirit-laden breath of my companion, and the rest owing to the tin vessel placed in one corner near the door for the use of the inmates during the night. I noticed next morning that these vessels had been painted on the inside, and the process of time had raised the paint into a warty roughness, and — pah! — their smell would sicken a strong person. As may be supposed, about this time, my reflections were not of the most cheerful nature. I began to feel cold, and my companion’s restlessness indicated that he would speedily waken. Right glad was I, therefore, when at the appointed time, which was about half-an-hour after my incarceration, the keeper came to the little wicket before mentioned, threw the light of his bull’s-eye on the interior, and asked “All right in there?” I replied that I was cold, and would like another cell. The official very civilly assented. I was transferred to the sole occupation of the adjoining apartment, and furnished with another blanket. I was now tolerably comfortable, having removed my boots (wearing which, it may be remarked for the benefit of those who may chance to camp out, inevitably produces cold feet), and now looked forward to a little sleep. But I began to be much concerned, not only by the movements of my late fellow-lodger, which I could plainly hear through the boarded partition, but by a monotonous tramp-tramping some few cells distant. No men “drunk” would walk up and down so incessantly, so I came to the conclusion that the uneasy person must either be a lunatic or one charged with a penal offence and solicitous for the events of next day. Shortly afterwards my next neighbor awoke, and I could judge from his movements that he had a splitting head, a burning thirst, and a very confused notion where he was. His frequent sighs, his numerous groans told how his debauch had affected him, and he soon began to belabor the door in his attempts to get out. Then he would call the sergeant endearingly and beg to be allowed to walk in the yard, which, of course, could not be acceded to, and he would fall back after each attempt with a groan of despair and an exclamation “Oh, my God! how I suffer.” He was evidently an Irishman, for once he pathetically said “Don’t I wish I was in ould Ireland,” and he would call the sergeant by all sorts of Hibernian names, as Egan, Moran, etc., in the vain hope of obtaining his desire. He kept up a continual knocking on the door, and finally burst into tears, and weepingly and brokenly begged to be let out, and he would return, “he promised that.” And mingled with all this din next door was the monotonous tramping of the uneasy soul farther away. By-and-bye, sleep being impossible, I discerned the faint gleam of morning through the openings in the door; and not long afterwards the sounds of activity in the court yard outside my door indicated that the night-duty constables were relieved at five o’clock by the first squad of day men. Somewhere in the vicinity, too, a thrush (probably in captivity) burst out into his morning song; and I never before so much realised that pathetic and beautiful tale told by Sterne of the imprisoned starling. My neighbor did not cease to knock at his door and hail every person he saw about the yard. The promise that he would see “the Major” at nine o’clock did not soothe him, and he tearfully continued his entreaties. Utterly worn out by the excitement of the night, I did succeed in getting to sleep about six o’clock, and was awakened at half-past seven by a new gaoler, who threw open the cell door and invited me to step forth, wash myself, and repair to a different cell. I gladly obeyed. The ablutionary apparatus consisted of a tap and a piece of soap, and the towel had evidently not just come from the laundry. But still a “sluich” was refreshing after the rank smell of the cell. I must here say that the bluish grey blankets served out were scrupulously clean, and seemed to retain no trace of contact with former drunkards; but the smell of those horrible tins pervaded everything. We, that is my former neighbor and I, were now placed together in a large cell, more than double the size of those we had vacated. Round two sides of the floor a small sloping bench had been placed to serve as a pillow, and the cell was evidently designed for eight or ten persons. The walls of this dungeon were of unpainted wood. They had not been whitewashed like those of the smaller cells, but all round them, at about shoulder height, was the greasy record left by contact with a generation of criminals. On one side were numerous traces of bloody fingers, evidently a record of some violent street row, and subsequent vain attempts to escape. Here and there, too, were rudely scratched names and initials, and in one place, in pencil, an indecent parody on the well-known song ‘You’ll remember me.’ I had now located the scene of the monotonous tramping of the hours of darkness. It was next door to our new domicile, and I afterwards learned that they proceeded from a man under a charge of lunacy. Such is the nice discrimination of our laws that a person supposed to be bereft of reason — and therefore one would suppose in a situation demanding sympathy and kindness —is treated exactly as a criminal up to the point of admission to an asylum, where curative treatment is supposed to commence. I myself was acquainted with a recent case, where a mother’s intellect was shattered — perhaps temporarily, perhaps permanently — by the accidental burning of her little child. She was committed to Seacliff, and on her way passed a night in these cells. Just imagine a woman, whose only crime was her excessive fondness for her little girl, condemned to pass a night in these cells. The opening in the door of our new prison commanded a view of the whole court yard, as it stood at the corner, and my companion planted himself at it and unceasingly begged to be let out. He would not be quieted; and when he found his entreaties unavailing he would resort to threats — what he would say to “Major” Bevin when he got out; the injustice of keeping a man in so long for only getting drunk, etc., etc, — these were the staple of his complaints. At nine o’clock our cell was visited by the Sergeant-major in his war paint, and in response to his cheery query “All right?” my companion entreated him to send for bail for him. Shortly afterwards a constable came and received directions where to find the friend referred to, and after half-an-hour’s absence he returned saying that the friend was not out of bed. Then another friend was sent for, and came, but the delays were so many that the pining captive only gained an hour’s liberty; that is, he got out on bail at ten and had to appear in Court at eleven. I was heartily glad to be alone again, for his incessant and childish complaints had utterly wearied me. During the morning the barrack cook brought me a pannikin of tea, hot and strong, and a sandwich, both of which I heartily enjoyed. I had now an opportunity of seeing what manner of man the next cell contained, for about half-past ten he was brought “out’’ and conducted outside, presumably for medical examination. He was an old man, evidently from the country, and his grey hair and whiskers hung in elf locks about a serious and apparently Scottish face. His countenance had a “lonely” look, and I immediately formed the theory that he had lived a life of solitude, and had gone, as so many do, “melancholy mad.” Now the bright sunlight illumined the whole yard, and I could see from the peep-hole, abandoned by my late comrade, preparations for the day’s work. A trooper, spick and span, with white helmet and shining riding-boots with jangling spurs, strode across the yard and entered the office, to emerge a few minutes after with a bundle of papers in his hand. A few minutes more and he again appeared mounted, all his accoutrements glittering in the morning sun, and he rode away. Then the men detailed for Court duty fell in and were despatched by the ubiquitous “Major”; and then, blessed moment! I saw the gaoler approach my door, key in hand, and I was again in the fresh air. Yes, in the fresh air again; ten hours’ confinement in cells which are a disgrace to any country. There is not a country police station which has not cells better adapted for their purpose than Dunedin. It is not the fault of the officials connected with the station, for everything is as clean as soap and water and whitewash can make it, but the fault of the plan of the building and its age. Common humanity demands that properly constructed cells, properly fitted with sanitary appliances and ventilated on scientific principles, be erected without delay. It should be borne in mind that every person thrust into those cells is presumably innocent, not yet having been tried, and the regulations should be much relaxed towards prisoners who are not mad or mad drunk. There is no reason for keeping prisoners locked up in their cells until eleven o’clock, when the Court sits. If there is no yard where they can inhale the fresh air from daybreak if they choose, there ought to be one. I followed my guide into the Court and took my seat in the dock, and cautiously surveyed the scene over the edge. Yes, it was the same. Go into what town; you will you see the same class of people attend the Police Courts. The same frowsy, fluffy, unwashed men, and on special occasions the same meretricious women. Not one of these people could have had the slightest interest in any of the cases. They simply came where their instinct led, I was glad to observe that I knew no one present, and I was thus saved the embarrassment of even a momentary misunderstanding. I should have mentioned in its proper order that the morning restored my confidence in my histrionic powers. About ten minutes before I was liberated, my captor came to the door of the cell and spoke to me: “You live at Tapanui?", “Yes,” “You are a reporter?” “Yes.” “What made you get tight last night?” “Fate, I suppose. I don’t suppose they will hang me.” “Were you ever here before?” “No.” “Very likely you will be convicted and discharged. You came along very quietly.” At which I inwardly smiled and thought of the “knee drill” I had undergone to keep me straight. Soon the Justices for the day took their seats, and business commenced. My companion of the night was first in order, “You are charged with being drunk in Maclaggan street at half-past eleven last night,” says “Major” Bevin, in a business-like tone. “How do you plead?” “Guilty, I suppose.” “He was never here before, your Worships.” “Convicted and discharged,” says the chairman, and off goes the culprit, a sadder and wiser man. The next on the list is a young married woman, who also pleads guilty to drunkenness. “She was here before, your Worships,” says Mr Bevin, “last August, and in August last year also.” “Fined ten shillings or forty-eight hours,” is the fiat, and down she steps. Now it is my turn, “John Dacre,” says the burly Major, and goes through the usual formula — drunk, etc., in Dowling street. I plead guilty, and am also let off with a nominal conviction and discharged. In administering the sentence the chairman gives me a look which made me quake, for I thought he recognised me as an old acquaintance; but no sign of acknowledgment was visible on his placid countenance, and I breathed again. I was now free, except that I had to go to the office to get my valuables returned. Nothing is ever lost on occasions of the kind. The drunken man’s best friend is the policeman, notwithstanding the vulgar belief about their proclivities. While I am waiting for the sergeant in charge of the office to be found, I am an uninvited witness of a scene between the newly-convicted woman and Sergeant-major Bevin. She has not the money to pay the fine, and is begging for time to try and raise it. “No, no, my good woman; you remember the trouble you gave us last time you were fined. We gave you time to raise the fine, and yon went off to your friends and got drunk again.” But she passionately appeals for another chance, and says her husband is in work now and can get the money from his employer. She exerts her blandishments in a melodious Scottish tongue on the constables present, and finally is allowed till one o’clock to get the money, "failing which,” Mr Bevin grimly observes: “you must go to the big hotel, where there are plenty of blankets to wash, which will take the drink out of you.” Off she goes in haste. And now comes the last scene for me in this eventful chapter. I have to be recorded. The watch-house keeper takes down a big book and enters in it my name (my assumed one), my age, nationality, height, color, religion, length of time in the colonies, ship I came in, etc. He asks me my trade, and I guardedly tell him “anything.” I glance at him as he fills np the different columns. He fills up that one headed “degree of education” “nil,” which should be a splendid to the professors who guided my tottering footsteps through the classics and the intricate paths of mathematics. Having regained my effects I am again a free man, and I confess that the first thing I do is to enjoy & hearty smoke. I trust you are having good sport with the trout this season, and that your recently purchased horse substantiates the warrant, —Yours ever, The Vagrant. -Evening Star, 3/11/1888.
THE BENEVOLENT INSTITUTION AT CAVERSHAM.
Dear Jack, — Whatever pleasure you may have derived from the narrative of my recent experiences in the watch-house has, I am sure, been exceeded by my own since that eventful time. With the police I am now a marked man, and every time I past a bluecoated guardian of the peace I receive a glance of recognition and a conscious smile.
My next essay in the direction of diving below the surface of things was at the Benevolent Institution at Caversham. To gain admission there, and to be allowed to mix among the inmates as one of themselves, required the exercise of a little diplomacy. As you are perhaps aware, the ordinary method of admission as a person requiring charitable aid is for the applicant to make his case known to the Committee and appear in person at one of their weekly meetings: except, of course, it be a case demanding immediate attention. Then the executive officers are empowered to grant temporary relief. I wished to dispense with this formality, and succeeded so far an to be able to present myself at the Institution armed with a document which secured me what I desired. Accordingly I did so, and the afternoon of a recent very wet day found me at the gate which opens on the Main South road. On my entrance I was much struck with the trim neatness of the grounds. The asphalt footpaths, black with the rain, contrasted well with the vivid green of the neatly-cut box hedging; while the bright red and white of the Elizabethan facade closed in a pretty picture. When I entered the hall my inquiries were soon successful in bringing to me the master of the institution, Mr Mee. My errand was soon stated, and Mr Mee speedily conducted me round the front building, through an asphalted court yard, and took me to one of the newly-erected wings which stand at the rear, and to Ward F in it, where I was to be located. We went through a hall- way covered with cocoa matting, and entered the ward. On our entrance there were two men lying on their beds, and they quickly assumed an erect position and removed their caps in respect to "the master." "Is this bed vacant?" said Mr Mee, pointing to one. "Yes, sir," was the reply. "Then this man will sleep there to-night. See that the sheets are on it." Mr Mee then left me to my own devices, and I had leisure to survey my new surroundings. The ward was upwards of 50ft in length, about 20ft wide, and at least 16ft high. It had large windows on three sides, and near the ceiling were a number of ventilators with sliding shutters, to be regulated at will by means of cords. Standing around three sides of the apartment, with their heads to the wall, were eleven beds, all neatly made, and each one covered with a fringed rug, bearing in the centre a monogram O.B.I., worked in blue. At the head of each bed stood a deal box to hold the belongings of each of the inmates. The walls were quite bare, and were of a bluish tint, known technically as "distempered." There were no hooks for hanging up clothes, nor any drapery except the closely-fitting blinds. About midway along one of the sides was a fireplace, in which blazed a cheerful coal fire, and before it stood a camp chair, the only seat except the beds which the room afforded. A glance sufficed to grasp all these details, and then I sallied forth in order to mix with the inmates. The day being wet, as I said before, they were all under shelter, and on forms running along the verandah fronting this wing were a number of them seated. Not sitting in cheerful groups, as would have been the case with men in health and strength, but mostly alone, moodily smoking, or at the utmost in couples, conversing in a low tone. The great majority of them appeared to be afflicted with some ailment or suffering from some injury; nearly every one used a stick, and many of them crutches as well. My attempts at fraternisation did not meet with much success at first, so I repaired to the smoking and reading rooms, which I was told were to be found in a wooden building in the middle of the yard. In the smoking room I found myself in the midst of a political discussion, so I passed on to the reading room beyond. Here, along two long tables, were numerous parties playing cards. Poker appeared to be the favorite game, and matches the customary stake. Each player had his "pile" before him, and, needless to say, they pursued the game with as much eagerness as if their "chips" represented actual coin. Others again were playing cribbage, and a few euchre. Ample provision appears to have been made for the amusement of the inmates, for there were besides (but unused at present) draughtboards, backgammon boards, and dominoes. On a side table was a pile of illustrated papers, nearly all of them bearing the words "Dunedin hospital," and on a couple of shelves were arranged about three or four hundred books. I looked over these idly, and found them a rather promiscuous lot. An odd volume or so of Dickens, ditto of Lever, ditto of Mrs Wood, many of the three-volume parlour library sorts, and many of the best of them deficient in pages but neatly repaired. In short, it was just such a library as might be expected to result from indiscriminate donations, and probably better suited for the purpose of whiling away a tiresome hour than for systematic study. A lavatory stood in one corner, fitted with basins and taps. Here also was a bright fire, as there was in the smoking room I had just passed through. The utmost cleanliness pervaded everything. The tables and forms were marvellously white, and the floor was also scrupulously clean. At frequent intervals were placed wooden cuspidors filled with dry earth or cinders, and each smoker was careful to use them. The game progressed with decorum, and there was nothing to affect the most nervous reader or shock the most fastidious hearer. In order to pass away the hour which elapsed before suppertime — five o'clock — I amused myself with turning over an old 'Illustrated London News,' which depicted scenes of the Franco-German war. Another older volume, dated well back in the forties, was full of scenes in which the young Queen and her consort took part. There appeared to be no recent books or magazines at all. At five o'clock the great bell of the Institution announced that supper was served, and all repaired to the dining room with an alacrity rather remarkable considering their infirmities. From each ward which stood about the enclosure there issued a stream of suffering humanity converging to the door of the refectory. Literally, the lame, the halt, and the blind had been bidden to the feast. Upwards of eighty so gathered together; but there are some — about a dozen — who cannot leave their beds, and who require that their food should be brought to them. The dining hall was nearly square, and three long tables stood on each side of the passageway. Down the centre of each table were placed plates piled with bread and butter, and each person was provided with a cup or pannikin and saucer. There was no restriction as to quantity. One could have as many cups of tea and as many slices of bread and butter as he chose, and was waited upon by attendants with huge teapots. These attendants were also inmates of the Institution, but more active than the others, and receive a slight gratuity for their services. The master was present in the room, as he supervised the meals; but it was not necessary for him to speak, seeing that there was no sound but the clattering of cups and saucers. I was unfortunately so placed that my back was to the bulk of those present, and I could not form an estimate of their appearance; but I resolved to gain a suitable position next meal. As soon as each one was finished he rose and went out, and in about a quarter of an hour all was over. I must say that the bread and butter and tea were of good quality. True, the butter was not ad lib., nor would the tea kill at forty yards; but the meal was a plain and substantial one, just such an one as many "cockatoos" think sufficient, with the addition, perhaps, of jam. "Supper" now being over, we repaired again to the smoking room, pipes were charged, and a general "yarn" began. I was now put through my facings. Sitting on an elevated seat, which he never leaves during the day, even for his meals, was an old gentleman formerly well known on the streets of Dunedin as a furious declaimer against the authorities as constituted. He is the self-appointed representative of the inmates, formulates their grievances, and is the arbiter elegantiarum of the Institution. In a somewhat magisterial tone he questioned I me as to my business, my recent movements, my length of stay, etc., etc. Having answered these interrogatories more or less satisfactorily, I was tacitly made "free of the guild," and conversation bedame general. The Chinese question and the European ditto passed rabidly under review, and were far more quickly disposed of than in more august assemblies. The "Celestial," however, found a few friends who justified the intention of China to cancel all her treaties with America. This was thought to be a complete checkmate, for "what would Europe do for tea?" The better informed held that India could produce enough to supply all wants, but the "Dictator" put an end to the discussion, as far as he was concerned, by saying oracularly that since England compelled China to open her ports for the sake of the opium trade, she could not refuse the Chinese admission to her territories. The chief opponent, however, a veteran who had lost a leg, maintained stoutly that he "didn't want no Chinese here." This elicited the retort that perhaps he sympathised with the Chinese from reasons of consanguinity, and the general laugh pulverised him. By and bye, the evening papers came in, and one old gentleman, a capital reader, edified an attentive company with the Star's views on the European situation. Meanwhile those who preferred to woo the fickle goddess of Fortune played cards in the next room. As far as could be judged all British nationalities were represented. The incisive tones of the Scotchman could be heard saying "I'm awa';" the rich brogue of the Irishmen, with his "I'll make it shpades and go alone"; or the smooth accent of the Englishman: "I'll straddle it and go two better." It was curious also to note the complete want of uniformity in the dress of the inmates. None of them seemed to be without some one at least to provide them with outer garments, although it could be seen that many wore the shirts, caps, etc., provided by the Institution. It is not so in Victoria, where in similar institutions every inmate must dress in the prescribed uniform. And so the evening wore on until about eight o'clock, when there began to be a perceptible dwindling of the company. All are supposed to be in bed by nine o'clock, and before that hour all the occupants of our ward had retired to rest. I was among the last to enter, not being used to go to bed so early, and I stayed up as long as possible. When I entered I was much struck with the appearance of the ward. The silent forms of those who had already gone to bed made it look like a hospital. And really it was an hospital. The same number of healthy able men - say workmen - would have "yarned" for an hour. Here all was silent as the grave, and when the last man to bed put out the gas, there was nothing heard but the heavy breathing of those who had gone to sleep. I found my bed an exceedingly comfortable one. The mattress was of some fibre which yielded easily to the movements of the body. There were abundant pillows, clean and fine sheets, and a liberal allowance of white blankets. In such a bed any one could sleep, and I was not long in swelling the chorus of somnolence.
Having retired thus early, of course I also woke early, and the dawn was just peeping past the edges of the blinds when I did so. Then from a bed nearly opposite my own, a form silently arose, knelt and prayed, dressed, and left the room. The cause was soon apparent. From the bed next to that just vacated, another form silently rose and remained in its knees alongside the bed. He who had gone out first returned with a bucket of warm water, and to my surprise, began to wash and dress the other. That other was blind, and was besides incapable of ever dressing himself. It was pitiful to see his absolute helplessness. The scene was the more striking because not a word was said. When the attendant wished the other to lift his foot so that he might put the stocking on, he merely tapped his knee and the foot went up. I thought at first that the old blind man was also dumb, but it was not so. He had merely, as it were, voluntarily cut himself off from a world of which a sight was denied him. He had retired within himself, like an oyster, and would not speak a word. When the blind man had been completely dressed, the attendant placed in his hand a piece of cloth, which served as a handkerchief, and then led him out, he following with that fixed attitude of head and outstretched hand so pathetically peculiar to the blind. Each morning he is led to his particular seat, where he remains all day, speaking to none, but busily and continually twiddling the edges of his handkerchief. The attendant, whom I afterwards found was the wardsman, but also an inmate, and of long standing, returned to the ward and pulled up all the blinds, and shortly after six o'clock all were astir. Even then our ward was behind some of the others, for at six o'clock a little boy came for the sheets that they might be washed. Clean sheets are given out once a fortnight, and it was for the dirty ones the boy came. I luckily arrived on "clean-sheet day." Another thing which struck me this morning was the entire absence of restraint. The men seemed to rise mechanically, and without being told. In the single copy of rules which was posted in the hall nothing was said about getting up, and the rules are commendably few. I could not help thinking that if the institution were under the charge of the Government, the walls would have been papered with rules and regulations, the inmates would have groaned under a perpetual commination, but here everything seemed to be automatic. Every person made his own bed and emptied out his own slops; and everyone seemed so engrossed in his own troubles, that this was done silently. Next room to our ward was a large lavatory, fitted with washbasins and water taps on two sides, while in a huge rack in the middle of the floor, were yards and yards of snowy canvas towelling. Fires were lit and rooms swept without any ordering or directions. The inmates do these things in regular turns, and so efficiently, that not a single paid servant is needed on the male side of the institution. From six o'clock to eight the time was put in somehow; and at the latter hour the bell again gave out its summons. With the same alacrity as on the previous evening the company assembled. Each one was served with a dish of porridge and a cup of milk; while down the centre of the tables were the customary piles of bread and butter. The porridge was excellent — equal to that made anywhere — and plentiful. The milk was also good. The ex-demagogue before alluded to, told me that he had recently complained to the Committee about the quality of the milk, and obtained an improvement. I suppose he thought he had done so, which probably pleased him quite as well, and added another leaf to his imaginary wreath of bays. At this meal I was so placed that I could observe the whole of the assembled company, and I was particularly struck with the paucity of faces indicated that the owners had fallen from a high estate, Evidently very few patricians had sought the shelter of the asylum. The majority were of that cast which might be supposed to have encountered the perils of early colonisation, and the vicissituses of the gold fields; to have gained and spent, and finally, when the earning power had departed never to return, to have ceased buffeting with the waves of fortune, and resignedly drifted into this breakwater. Many of the faces bore ineffaceable traces of excess, and very few were of men below middle age, "Here," I reflected, "is some of the residuum of the early days. Stricken with paralysis or twisted with rheumatism, nothing is now left to them of former successes but a vainly regretful memory." The porridge disposed of, tea and bread and butter were again handed round, and the meal completed. The bill of fare for breakfast and supper never varies; that for dinner does. On certain, days only is soup served. On Sundays pork and corned beef, vegetables and plum pudding constitute the menu. One man, a burly and good natured looking giant, who one would rather take for a boniface than a pauper, said to me: "Nothing changes the routine here. I've had nearly three years of bread and butter for tea, and porridge and bread and butter for breakfast. The only change we have is a pint of beer at Christmas, and some of 'em wanted to stop that. Fancy a man shut up here twelve months without a penny, and they grudge him a pint of beer at Christmas!" And yet some have beer in the institution nearly fifteen years. If I wished to carry joy to these poor souls and were able to do it, I think I should "stand" them a hearty breakfast of ham and eggs, beefsteaks, and chops. As soon as breakfast was over it became apparent that it was cleaning up day. The day previous had been too wet for scrubbing, and, although this day did not promise much better, it was decided to do it. Men were seen hurrying with pails of hot water obtained from the laundry; others swept rooms and beat matting; and those who were perforce driven out of the rooms by these operations solaced themselves by also getting buckets of warm water and washing their socks, etc. I myself filled up the spare time by looking over the buildings, such as the carpenter's shop, stable, pig-stye, etc., and ended up with a yarn with one of the inmates. He seemed outwardly to have nothing wrong with him; but he told me he had a bad hernia, and had been much knocked about. Although upwards of two years an inmate he still chafed at his position, and told me he actually wept when he entered the office to apply for admission. Another old man, whom I knew in better circumstances, told me that one morning when he woke he found himself paralysed all down one side, and was afterwards twelve months in the hospital. He has now regained the use of his limbs, and his mental powers are still unimpaired, but he could not get suitable work. Still another had been a miner, but was torn with rheumatics; had saved nothing of the many finds he had made, and was destitute and over seventy years of age. Still another had been a shepherd, was also rheumatic, and could not use his limbs sometimes. And so on down the melancholy list. Some with twisted legs, feebly crawling about with crutches; others, with spinal disease, painfully drawing their legs after them. My burly friend had heart disease, which forbade exertion, and might carry him off any moment. Others were paralysed. The most helpless were in bed altogether, as the incurable cases are sent here from the hospital. Among these is a Chinaman; but I did not see him; cancer, I believe, is his complaint. By this time the cleaning was done, and those who felt so disposed re-entered the rooms and resumed their amusements until dinner-time. At twelve o'clock, punctually, we again assembled for dinner. This I found to consist of a dish of soup, abundance of bread as before, boiled meat, and potatoes au naturel. The soup was most excellent, the beef — that which had been boiled in it — and the potatoes as good as can be got. As for quantity, that given to me would have served two like me; but then I had not been long an inmate. Dinner over, the same listless and apathetic "loafing" about was resumed.
It would be a charity to most of these men to give them some light employment at which they could sit. Life must, indeed, be hard to bear when it consists of a vista of days of weary idleness, closed in by a pauper's grave, That is why I am convinced there is no "malingering" at Caversham. The heaviest punishment mentioned in the rules is expulsion. Lighter ones take the shape of stopping the refractory one's tobacco. Every inmate who likes is supplied with three plugs of tobacco per fortnight, also with matches. Formerly two plugs per week were given, but some of the Committee wished the allowance curtailed. Some, I believe, wished it to be altogether abolished, and the name of the member who succeeded in getting even the reduced quantity retained is mentioned with thankfulness. Another boon which inmates have is that they can get out almost any day they like by asking permission, only they must return sober under pain of expulsion. This provision may not seem so remarkable when it is looked into. A poor old chap, let us say, hobbles out, and perhaps meets one who knew him in better days. Taking pity on the old man, he treats him. It does not take much liquor to warm the "cockles of the old man's heart," and set his cracked and quavering voice singing. Warming up with the generous fluid, his mind rebels against the position he is in, and when he returns to his home he naturally chafes against its restraint. Hence the need and rigidity of the rule.
After an hour or two talking after dinner I found that I had spent a round of the clock in the Institution, and had seen it under the regular routine. Accordingly, I left my companions — all the time unaware of my business — and, seeking Mr Mee, again assumed my proper character. He then, accompanied by Mrs Mee, the matron, showed me over the remaining portions of the Institution. The women and children are accommodated in the large brick building in front; the men in detached wards scattered about the grounds. First we visited the women's work-room. Here all were busily sewing or knitting or mending. The females are infinitely better off than the men, because they have their domestic employment to fall back upon. Hence the same listlessness was not visible. Then I was conducted through the ground floor to the kitchen, where preparations for tea were going on. A man was slicing away at bread with a voracious machine, which cried "More;" and others were buttering. Still further on was the laundry, where ablebodied women have to be employed. Then to the shoemakers' shop, where all the boots are made and all the repairs effected. Then out to the school-room, where forty-eight orphans — there are twenty-four of each sex in the Institution — are taught in the Standards by a certificated teacher. Then to the bathroom, where preparations — it being Saturday afternoon — were being made by two sturdy women to administer the weekly bath to the youngsters. Then to the women's dining room, and to the men's, where everything was being scrubbed, as it is after every meal. Then upstairs again to the dormitories, where the same order and cleanliness are everywhere visible. Then to the lying-in ward, recently made an adjunt to the Institution. Then to the hospital, where lay a couple of female patients. Then further upstairs, near the roof, to the boy's dormitory. From a gable window in this floor is constructed a permanent fire escape, and the bigger boys are regularly drilled to remove the younger ones rapidly down it in case of fire. They are also subjected to drill in the use of the hose attached to hydrants below. Downstairs again by another route, and we reach the girls' dormitory. Still, down, and we come to the tailor's shop, where a disciple of St. Stichem is sitting in the orthodox fashion on his board. Every article of clothing used is made on the premises, and every article is cut by Mrs Mee in addition to her other duties. The material was shown to me. Good heavy flannel for men's underwear, ditto for women's; checked shirting for the men, and wincey skirting for the women; strong tweed for the boys, and abundance of clothing for the girls. And the whole cost of maintenance, including management and all other expenses, is what? Why, four shillings and elevenpence per week for each of the 198 inmates! Truly we live in a land of plenty! And now I have concluded my inspection, and have leisure to ruminate over the "problem of poverty" as found at Caversham. What struck me most of all was the absolute absence of restraint. The inmates are not shut in, as in a workhouse at Home, and made prisoners of. No gate is locked, nor does any high wall obstruct the view. They stay as long as they choose to conform to the very reasonable rules, and are not interfered with in any way. If they go out they must return before five o'clock and — sober. They can have anything they can buy or their friends choose to give them. The assumption is that they desire a refuge, and remain of their own free will, and the worst punishment held over their heads is that it will be no longer afforded them. I must conclude by saying that Mr Mee's confidence in his management, and that of Mrs Mee, when he allowed me to spend a day, unfettered, among the inmates, was more than justified by the admirable order and cleanliness everywhere visible.
The Vagrant. -Evening Star, 10/11/1888.
A CORRECTION.
TO THE EDITOR.
SIR, Kindly allow me space to say that I did not say in my account of the Institution at Caversham that several inmates had beer in it for fifteen years. I said been, etc. The atmosphere of the Institution is not so “malty” as the typographical error might lead the reader to suppose.
— I am, etc., The Vagrant. Dunedin, November 12. -Evening Star, 12/11/1888.
CHINESE GAMBLING DENS IN DUNEDIN.
Dear Jack, — Here goes for a story with a moral.
It is one of the most cherished privileges of Britons that they can make laws to prevent themselves from doing that which is wrong. Another privilege more but not so widely cherished is that the laws so made can be broken with impunity, and an additional charm imparted to the operative by the risk incurred in performing it. Throwing dice has been declared to be illegal, yet how many hotels are without the paraphernalia for “Yankee grab" and how many of the customers have never joined in using it? Bets are still constantly made; indeed it would be difficult to find a more common way of settling disputes or arguments. Numbers still indulge in sweeps, although they obtain their tickets from other colonies where the law is less stringent, and the stake is invested sub rosa. Cards have their votaries, notwithstanding the “depression”; and we occasionally hear of select circles or schools which meet nightly to indulge in whatever may be the favorite game for stakes great or small, according to circumstances. Even a church bazaar is incomplete without some apparatus whereby people may appeal to chance or luck. The rosy and taper fingers which draw from the lucky bag at a bazaar as surely minister to the almost universal taste for gambling as the sable-tipped, podgy fingers of the bookmaker when recording the odds — the same desire to get "something for nothing” is visible in the chaste matron who covets in her heart the piece of fancy work upon which she has taken a shilling chance, and in the bleareyed larrikin who has invested sixpence in a Chinese lottery. Accordingly, when the Chinese planted their vices in our midst, of which vices gambling is one of the chief, they did so in congenial soil, and now the tender seedling has grown into a colossal tree, whose umbrageous gloom shadows whole vicinities and intensities the evils resulting from improvidence. Dickens noted it as a peculiarity of London that the poorer the locality the more frequent the evidences of fitfully riotous expenditure. In the most squalid courts pickled salmon tins and oyster shells indicated that poverty had not extirpated the taste for good living when attainable. In the same manner it is the poorer classes of Europeans who patronise the Chinese gambling dens. The “accursed hunger of gold” is plainly visible in the countenances of the ragged women who stealthily purchase a ticket in the vain hope of striking a “ten-mark” result. But I am anticipating, and in order to make my allusions intelligible will describe what I saw on a recent evening in the Chinese quarter in Dunedin.
There are three methods of gambling prevalent among the Chinese namely, Pak-a-pu, Fan-tan, and Sun-Ti. Of these the first, Paka-pu, is a lottery, and it is drawn at stated intervals during the day or night, according to the amount of business doing. At present in Dunedin there are three companies conducting lotteries, and each one has six drawings daily, Sunday being the busiest day. Each one has numerous agents for the disposal of tickets, and each agent has tickets in each of the three lotteries for ale. As a cover for their business, these agents ostensibly carry on some other, and perhaps really depend on it, for as far as I could ascertain their remuneration for selling the tickets is a commission of 10 per cent. on all winnings made through their agency. If a European you must, in order to secure a ticket, either be an habitue of the place or be accompanied by someone who is. A stranger who asks for one is met with that bland stare which a Chinaman knows so well how to assume, and the conventional "No savee!” Let us suppose you invest the lowest sum permitted — sixpence. You receive in return a ticket about five inches square, having printed on it in two squares, divided by the title of the proprietary of the lottery, eighty Chinese characters, forty in each square. With the Chinese stylus or pen you obliterate any ten of these characters, and the agent thereupon takes a copy of your obliterations in a block of similar tickets. He also marks upon your ticket the hour of the drawing for which you desire to enter. Of course you can purchase as many tickets as you choose and mark them as you like; or, should you desire to “plunge,” you can put any stake on it you choose up to L3, and so increase your winnings in geometrical progression. Moreover, by purchasing a ticket at the highest price you obtain other chances of winning by certain combinations needless to detail here. Having now secured your ticket, the momentous hour of drawing approaches. This is done in Dunedin with the most scrupulous secrecy, and in the presence of two or three witnesses only. The approaches are rigorously guarded, and on the slightest alarm the whole paraphernalia is cast into a fire kept ready for the purpose. The ceremony is thus divested of half its attractions; but I have seen it performed in Melbourne in the presence of several hundreds, and in a building opening to the street. In those days the lottery had not been declared an illegal game; and even in this colony it was not until 1881 that Pak-a-pu was expressly named and forbidden in the Statute. This is what takes place: Eighty tickets, each bearing a character similar to one of those on the tickets, are crumpled up into pellets, and cast into a large jar. Joss sticks are lighted and shed their fragrance around, while the lights gleam on hangings of scarlet, ornamented with characters in gold. The officiating drawer is richly dressed, and pursues his task with so many genuflections and nasal intonations that the ceremony could easily be believed to be a religious one. Drawing up his sleeves like a prestidigitator in order to show that “there is no deception” he inserts his hand in the jar, and, with a theatrical gesture, withdraws therefrom a pellet. On a table before him he has four bowls, and in each of these he places one by one twenty pellets. This done, a lot is cast which bowl shall be chosen. The choice having been made, the other pellets are immediately destroyed, and the twenty that remain in the selected bowl are opened out and displayed on a board, which is a large copy of the printed ticket you have purchased. You then compare your ticket with the board and see how many of the twenty you have obliterated. If you have five which so correspond you gain the lowest prize of one shilling for a sixpenny ticket. If you have six you receive eight and sixpence; for seven, three pounds fourteen; for eight, nineteen pounds; for nine, thirty-two pounds; and if the whole ten have been hit you receive upwards of eighty pounds. Of course if you have taken a high-priced ticket and hit a large number you win in proportion, but I believe a “ten mark” has only been got once in the colonies. The Pak-a-pu bank is limited to two hundred and fifty pounds, less 10 per cent. Should the bank be hit for a larger sum, the smaller prizes — those of six marks and under — are paid first, and the others divide pro rata. It is a most fascinating game, it must be admitted, and perfectly fair, but of course the chances are immensely in favor of the bank. All sorts and conditions of men — and women — invest in it. The superstitions common to gamblers are noticeable in this game also. Chinese in Dunedin will send money to be invested for them at Lawrence or Riverton, and vice versa. They will also note the record of previous drawings and pursue the phantom all over the mystic page. My modest shilling only resulted in three marks on each of the tickets, and so I had the satisfaction of knowing that my "colonial Robert” had gone to swell the coffers of some already bloated capitalist, who would, no doubt, return to the Flowery Land laden with the honey purloined from the working bees. In the business at Round Hill, near Riverton, where gambling goes on almost unchecked, several fortunes — Chinese fortunes — have been successively made.
But to the Chinese gambler and to his equally infatuated European brother Pak-a-vu is to the fiercer joys of Fan-tan and Sun-ti as playing “catch-the-ten” for pennies would have been to Beau Brummel's set. He merely invests a shilling or two in order to whet his appetite; and to while away the time until the drawing takes place he must have more excitement. This he finds in the games mentioned. Sun-ti is played with three dice which are thrown from the hand. One person takes the bank, naming the sum he stands to lose; but any other person may become banker on becoming responsible for a higher sum. The banker throws first and continues until he throws two of the dice with equal numbers upwards. The number on the odd one is his “main,” and according as the others exceed or come short of that number with their odd die does he pay or receive. A “natural” — that is three of a kind — wins the pool always. The excitement in this game is continual, and it continues almost always until one person wins all the money in the company. Essentially a gambling game, into which no element of skill enters, it reflects the Chinese character admirably, and that of the lower types of European who frequent their abodes. You do not need to be told what those abodes are like. Almost every town in Otago has now its Chinese quarter, where the denizens live in dwellings so rudely built and so small as to be destitute both of comfort and sanitary advantages. Fan-tan, the third of the games most frequently played by the Chinese, is also one affording great excitement. A croupier, acting on behalf of the bank, throws a large number of counters on the table, and in the middle of the heap thrusts down a small inverted cup. Then, with a long rake, he pulls away the counters towards himself, and the bystanders bet any sum they choose they can guess what number remains under the cup. The cashier, rendered indifferent by long habit, pays out and receives with stolid gravity, and regards unmoved the fluctuating fortunes of the game. Not so the players. With straining eyes, drawn countenances, and bated breath they watch the withdrawal of the counters, and at the conclusion a chorus of imprecations arises from those who are unlucky. A continual “yabber” rends the confined and heated air of the room; and as no inducement will make a Chinaman provide any appliances for ventilation, the smell arising from a heated, perspiring company can, in the language of the poet, be more easily imagined than described. Whatever may bo the virtues of the Chinese, and “Chinkophiles” assert that they have a great many — such as industry, self-denial, etc. — it cannot be said that they remind one of violets. The eagerness with which the gamblers pursue their pleasure or profit is contagious. Those of the Europeans who are permitted to have access to the seances become more infatuated than themselves. It becomes bruited about that So-and-so has won some money in the lottery, and the excitement in the neighborhood increases. Men who do not care for exposure — even women, equally careless of appearances — buy their tickets openly. Those more circumspect purchase them under cloud of night. It would surprise you to learn how many outwardly respectable citizens have been caught in the coils of this octopus. Once drawn into the charmed circle, the process of demoralisation is easy, until after a lengthened intimacy it is impossible to say which is the contaminator and which the contaminated. Of the darker shades still than those I have depicted I need say nothing. The persistency with which the Chinese pursue, and the sacrifices they will make for, the gratification of their desires give a hideous association to their presence which provokes a shudder. When I think of the number of Europeans who have been entangled in the habit of gambling, of the number who have become addicted to opium eating and smoking, of the depravity to which they reduce young girls and women, I solemnly declare that I regard the establishment of a Chinese quarter in any town with as much horror as I should the incipience of a cancer on a human body. The beginning of all the evils is the gambling, which gradually familiarises Europeans with customs naturally foreign to them. The law appears to be powerless to suppress gambling, though why it should bo so is a puzzle. Since the enactment of the more recent and more stringent amendment of the Gaming and Lotteries Act of 1885, several wholesale arrests have been made in different towns; but convictions are difficult to obtain, from the unwillingness of those who really know to divulge their knowledge. And an arrest which is not followed by a conviction does more harm than good, because it only produces further precautionary measures against detection. But surely a law which includes a provision that anyone bolting the door of a public billiard or bagatelle room on the inside shall be liable to a penalty of one hundred pounds, contains some means whereby can be reached Chinese who display openly in their shops lottery tickets for sale, and who do not even conceal their materials for carrying on the business. It seems to me perfectly absurd that a European cannot gamble among his fellow-countrymen, and is allowed to do so almost with impunity among such surroundings ns I have described. The European must, for his own protection, stop this gangrene from spreading. Yours, virtuously, The Vagrant. -Evening Star, 17/11/1888.
Dear Jack, — Since I last wrote to you detailing my observations in the Chinese quarter in Dunedin, I have gone about, literally, with my life in my hand. There are several almond-eyed Sons of the Moon, and some of their European friends as well, who have sworn to do for me what I have done for their calling — namely, let daylight in and their animosity against me has been intensified by the fact that since the publication of the article one of the banks has been "broken" by a combination of investors who made a lucky coup.
What I have now to relate to you is a tale of a more startling and adventurous kind than any previous one. I had long shared the widely spread opinion that, in the matter of
ADMINISTERING OUR LUNACY LAWS, sufficient precautions were not taken to prevent sane people, or at least people whose worst offence was a little harmless eccentricity, from being immured in madhouses, there to languish, perhaps, for years, and finally be given up by their friends as lost. Having made the experiment for myself, I have now no hesitation in saying that my opinion has been more than confirmed. It is so easy to convict a person of being mentally disordered that, practically speaking, no one, or at least no one who is without friends, is safe. I shall simply tell, in an unpretending narrative, what befell myself in the course of the experiment from which I have just successfully emerged.
THE MODUS OPERANDI OF COMMITTING LUNATICS to the asylum was well known to me from my professional experience. An information is laid just as in the case of an ordinary offence against the law, the accused person is examined by the President Magistrate or his equivalent (two Justices of the Peace), remanded for medical inquiry by two doctors singly, and dealt with according to their report. The initial step in the proceedings is the laying of the information. Now I realised that none of the Dunedin police would lay an information against me, considering how recently one of their number had been "sold" by me; nor was I at all sure that they would tacitly see an up-country member of the force similarly beguiled. Then I had to fix the scene of my attempt in some town where there are two doctors, who might examine me and procure my committal without the necessity of me passing through the Dunedin office at all.
THE EXPERIMENTAL STAGE. It would not answer to choose a Southern town, because there I am too well known; so, all things considered, I decided to make Oamaru the place of the momentous trial. Accordingly a recent Tuesday evening, at ten o'clock, saw me on the Dunedin wharf about to become a passenger by the "fast and favorite clipper steamer" the Beautiful Star, which sails for the port mentioned on Tuesday and Friday evenings. There was a great crowd present, but, as is usual in such cases, there were more leavetakers and spectators than passengers, and when we swung off from the wharf in the bright moonlight there was found to be ample room on board. From prudential motives I had taken a steerage passage. No record is taken of the names of steerage passengers, and I expected to drop into Oamaru about five o'clock next morning as utterly unknown as if I had fallen from the clouds. The night promised to be a fine though chilly one, although the wind was dead ahead, and I remained on deck for a considerable portion of the journey down the harbor, admiring the lovely picture which receding Dunedin made in the moonlight. When at length I decided to "turn in" for the night, being by this time relieved of all apprehension of sea sickness. I went below to find that, while there were six passengers, there were only four berths. Luckily for the rest one of the passengers was a sailor in an advanced stage of drunkenness, and he contentedly curled himself on a locker at one end of the cabin and slept — when he wasn't sick — peacefully. Two of the others occupied one of the bunks, and the remainder reposed singly. The wildest stretch of imagination would not term the steerage accommodation of the Star palatial. One half of the cabin has been partitioned off and fitted up, apparently, for quarters for some of the officers. Each bunk was provided with a straw mattress and a rug and under each pillow was a lifebelt, while on a shelf at one end of the cabin was a large further supply of belts, unpleasantly suggestive of the necessity for using them. We had no adventure worthy of recording. The sea, though high, was not a broken one, and the easy rolling motion of the little vessel was far from unpleasant. The break of day found us opposite a township on the coast, its white houses glittering in the morning sunlight, and all along the stretch of beach could be seen the white surf line, when the waves of the Pacific curled themselves to sleep on the smooth sand. Still far ahead could be distinguished the bluff headland which flanks Oamaru harbor, and on rounding this the town itself came into view. The harbor itself originally presented to the settlers not a single natural advantage, and until quite recently passengers and goods were transported from ship to land by means of surf-boats. Now, however, a considerable area has been enclosed by walls, and inside the enclosure and alongside the railway piers vessels find secure shelter. On the morning of our arrival the shipping consisted of a small steamer and the ship Opawa, which I learnt had just about completed her loading of wool, frozen meat, etc., and was about to sail for London. Our arrival created no stir, although it was fully seven o'clock in the morning, and the passengers wended their way towards the town. In keeping with my assumed character, I, accompanied by a fellow passenger, sought an obscure lodging house, and asked for breakfast. The aspect of the place was not at all inviting, and when a little girl, who appeared to be the sole occupant, and upon whose face there were visible traces of her struggle with the morning fire, told us they were quite out of meat, but that we could have some boiled eggs, we beat a retreat to a more generous place of entertainment. I had decided to postpone my attempt to pass for a lunatic until after nightfall, so that the darkness would favor me, and I spent the day in seeing the lions of the place. The chief feature of Oamaru is the magnificence of its buildings. In the vicinity are extensive deposits of limestone, which when newly quarried is soft and easily worked. With this advantage to start with the residents have indulged their architectural tastes ad lib,, and consequently every building of any consequence is profusely ornamented with pillars, and the main street presents a vista of Corinthian columns. A considerable portion of the day was spent in the reading-room of the Athenaeum, where the daily papers are filed, admission being free. There was abundance of the provincial newspapers, but, as far as could be judged, the Dunedin, Christchurch, and Australian weeklies only found their way into this room after use elsewhere, because none of the latest dates were visible. The day passed tardily away, and I was glad when it became sufficiently late for my enterprise.
A DECIDED REBUFF. Accordingly about 11 p.m. I sallied forth in search of a policeman. Up to this period I had formed no definite plan of operations. My idea was to talk irrationally, and endeavor to induce someone to believe that I was not insane but imbecile. I soon found that this scheme would not work. When I met a sergeant, whoso name I afterwards learned was O'Grady, I adopted the role, but the manner in which he told me "it was no use, I had better go home and go to bed," convinced me not only that I was on the wrong track, but that he knew my "little game." I therefore concluded that I had been what is vulgarly called "put away," and my suspicions were confirmed when I afterwards discovered that my fellow passenger, who knew of my previous escapade, was an intimate friend of one of the police force in Oamaru. However, the experience so gained was subsequently valuable. Next morning early I interviewed Inspector Thompson in his office. Knocking at the door, I was invited to enter, and found the gentleman named writing at his desk. A military-looking man, of frigid politeness; and not the sort of person, I at once concluded, to go out of the beaten track of duty. I boldly stated my business, and made known what I desired. Would he help me? He at once replied that he was very sorry, but could not. The first step would have to be the swearing of an information by a constable, and I could not ask a man to commit perjury for me. This in a tone of severe and firm politeness. "Then," said I, "I must deceive a constable of my own"; and thanking Mr Thompson, who bowed politely, I left the room. "Now," thought I, "all hope may be abandoned. Very likely word will be sent out to all stations to look out for me, and I may as well go home again." We shall see.
PUTTING IN A DAY. Taking all things into consideration, I decided to remain and see the Oamaru show, which was held on that and the succeeding day. To a stranger all shows are alike. One sees at every one of them the same mutely submissive sheep, panting under their heavy coats of wool; the same obese pigs, the same sleek cattle, the same magnificent hairy-legged horses; the same sunembrowned farmers, looking uncomfortable in their best suits; the same sturdy dames, with ample waists and smiling countenances; the same hoydenish lasses, with free stride, unfettered by "pull-backs" or tight boots. He also sees the ubiquitous army of small fry who assiduously follow such gatherings and seek to decoy the loose coin from the reluctant pockets of the crowd. Monkeys and birds, sword-swallowers and lucky bags, hand organs and brass bands, flags and flowers, the jingling of glasses at the adjacent booths and the general hum of conversation — these are everywhere the same. The show ground at Oamaru was intended surely by Nature for such a purpose. Situated at the top of a hill overlooking the town, it is easily accessible. The arena in which the exhibits are paraded for comparison is a circular depression — a perfect amphitheatre — and thousands can sit down in comfort on its grassy sides and obtain an easy view of the movements in the ring. But why, oh I why did the elements combine to produce such clouds of dust? By the afternoon every person present was covered with a coat of grimy dust. All the clothes became of one color, and there was scarcely a clean face in the crowd. The next day was a copy of the first, only there was not so much dust and more people. I suppose the judgments gave the usual satisfaction. It is so refreshing to ask a gentleman to come from a distance to act as a judge, pay his expenses, and then privately cavil at his decisions. It gives you an opportunity of showing how much more you know than he does. I had no interest in the result, not being particularly anxious to know who made the best scones, or exhibited the pig with the most adipose tissue.
A BRILLIANT IDEA. My mission was to get into Seacliff Asylum. Slowly an idea elaborated itself, and it shows how oddly miscellaneous scraps of information may be useful. Some years ago I read a volume of a weekly paper, now long forgotten, called the 'People's Journal.' It was conducted by William and Mary Howitt, and it was the exponent of the views of the Chartists. In it appeared a number of papers entitled 'Poets of the People,' and among the number was one upon the works of a young man I — I forget his name — who, by incredible industry and self-denial, had educated himself, finally becoming editor of a Radical paper and a lecturer on the wrongs of the working classes. He was imprisoned for seditious speeches, and while in gaol he wrote a tragedy called 'Judas Iscariot.' The dramatist took the view that Judas was not the mercenary wretch he is popularly considered, but an essential part of the machinery in the plan of Redemption. In fine language, Judas is made to portray the horror he feels at the ignoble part he is compelled to play, and to tell how his proud nature revolts from his uncongenial task. Elaborating this idea, I further conceived that Judas did not hang himself as reported, but hid himself, the translator having made an error. For a punishment, and to show to the world the awfulness of the sin of treachery, Judas is compelled to wander about the world until his appointed time, vainly seeking that death which alone can release him from torment. Eugene Sue's Wandering Jew is not the one who struck the Lord on his way to Calvary, nor is he an old man, but Judas Iscariot, in the same guise and of the same appearance as he presented at the time. I was to be the person deputed to end the torment of the traitor, and give him in death that repose for which his soul had longed in vain for nearly two thousand years. Very likely common men would call my act murder, but had not a far nobler sacrifice been made under the charge of treason. Such was my little story, and I flatter myself it was just as coherent and justifiable a belief as that of any of the Joanna Southcotes, John Smiths, John Wroes, or any other of the host of creed manufacturers who ever flourished. But where should I now put my scheme to the test? If I went farther north, I thought, I should be sent to Sunnyside; and Seacliff was my goal. If I went up country I should fail, because I had only recently come through in my professional capacity; so I decided that in Palmerston, and there only, could I succeed.
THE PLOT WORKS. Accordingly on Saturday afternoon I took train from Oamaru, and at about half-past eight found myself in Palmerston. It must be borne in mind that I carried nothing with me, and was so dressed as to be able to pass for a laboring man. Neither had I shaved for a week; so I believe I looked the character. Much to my relief, I saw no policeman on the platform when I alighted, and I lost no time in seeking food and shelter. The latter I obtained, but not the former. My hostess (Mrs Margrie) informed me that the girl had gone out and had made up her fire, so that no tea could be had. Had I not been playing a part, Mrs Margrie would have been told to go to pot, and a more obliging hostess found; but I "lay low" and said nothing. After engaging a bed I strolled out to reconnoitre the town. At the top of the hill, on the road leading away to the goldfields, is another hotel kept by a Mr Longton, and the familiar click of the billiard balls attracted me within. Seating myself in a quiet corner, I took a survey of the company. A tall youth, whose emaciated frame and hectic cheeks indicated an advanced stage of consumption, was playing with "the boss," and profusely ornamenting the game with profanity and the floor with tobacco spittle. Seated on one of the forms at the side, among some others, was one whom instinct told me was a constable. I did not need the evidence of his blue trousers nor his large feet to tell me that. Some day I shall write an essay on the question why country "bobbies," when in plain clothes, always wear boots two sizes too large for them. I mentally took his measure — I don't mean of his feet, but of his capacity — and concluded that he would do, and I thought to myself that he and I would become better acquainted before long. However, I said nothing at the time, and shortly went away. I found my bed much more comfortable than the scanty welcome of the landlady had led me to expect, and I slept the sleep of the just till morning. At 9 a.m. I breakfasted in solitary state. Ham and eggs and tea constituted the bill of fare. When I left the breakfast room the landlady accosted me, and intimated insinuatingly that it was usual for strangers, etc. I satisfied her very moderate demands and went about my business. The story of how my capture was effected and its resultant effects must be reserved for another chapter. -Evening Star, 26/11/1888.
"THE VAGRANT" IN SEACLIFF ASYLUM.
I now resume my narrative, which broke up at the point of my setting out to make the acquaintance of the local representative of "law and order." I was playing a deep game, and acted very cautiously this time. Leaving my hostelry, I went out of the township quietly and addressed myself to climbing the high hill — Puketop, they pronounce it — which overlooks the town. Not being exactly so robust as young Angus in the 'Lady of the Lake,' who could breast the mountain without a sob while bearing the Fiery Cross, my ascent was laborious and slow. The morning was very sultry, and a heavy perspiration quickly ensued; but when at the top the view more than repaid me for the exertion. At my feet lay the little town slumbering in the still Sabbath morn, and the church bell was heard drowsily summoning the pious church-goers to worship. Beyond, the Shag River wound sinuously in its ample bed, now "a world too wide" for its shrunk proportions. To left and to right and away in front stretched the main roads, followed closely by the lines of telegraph poles. The dark green of the young cereal crops showed out in strong relief with the yellow native herbage, and behind me shimmered the boundless ocean. There I remained nearly all day, and enjoyed in my solitude the pipe of peace and anticipations of the coup I meditated in the evening. When evening had fallen I again sought the town, and ensconced myself in the railway station. It maybe asked: "Why all this mystery?" But it must be borne in mind that I was manufacturing a character for eccentricity. The police station lies immediately opposite the railway offices, but neither from the dwelling nor from the adjacent office did there proceed any light. This puzzled me for a long time, and I almost gave up the attempt. I had now seated myself on the platform, and no doubt excited much speculation on the part of the passers-by. About half-past nine I saw movements in the yard opposite, and soon I saw someone leading a horse away, apparently to paddock him for the night. Another wait of nearly an hour, and then I heard an authoritative voice, and saw a movement in the yard. I hastily took off my boots and stockings, rolled up my trousers, undid my collar and necktie, letting them float behind me, crushed in my hat, slung my boots over my shoulder, and rushed across. I entered the open gate and asked the man I saw there whether he had seen him.
"Seen who?"
"Judas Iscariot. I'm sure he is about here. I must go and find him."
"What do you want him for?" was the next question.
"Want to put him out of his misery."
I turned as if to go. A hand was laid on my shoulder, and a voice said: "Stay! Do you know where you are?"
"No."
"Well, you are in the police station, and I'm the constable."
I didn't care. I must find Judas Iscariot. I had followed him from Oamaru, and felt certain, by some internal feeling, that he was not far away. My interlocutor said he would have to lock me up if I talked like that, and made me put on my boots again. He said he had never heard such nonsense before, and cross-examined me rigorously. I told as many lies as would have fitted out an army like Ananias and Sapphira. "I was a laborer. I had been in the colony only a few months. Had come from Wellington on my search. Had thrown away my swag in Oamaru in the excitement of approaching my victim. They had considered me mad in Melbourne, but I soon convinced the superintendent of the Kew Asylum that I was not. What right had they to interfere with my religious belief? Besides, Judas would be glad to have an end put to his sufferings. He had sought death by land and by sea, by fire and by flood, in war and in pestilence, and had been unable to obtain it. No; I did not know what weapon I should use. The means to carry out my instructions would be shown to me when I saw the man. Nor did I know what the man was like. That also would be made known to me at the right time. But one thing was certain: By me, and by me alone, could he meet his reward; and sooner or later it would come to pass. Very likely human laws would call it murder, and hang me; but I was prepared for the sacrifice." And so on, with fustian of this kind for more than half an hour. The end of it was that I was locked up. My boots were removed, also my braces, and I was searched. The property taken from me consisted of one pipe, one knife, one piece of tobacco, box of matches, some coppers, and a handkerchief. Then a bed was made down for me on the floor, and they gave me a pillow. As soon as I was locked in I heard, through the grated and unglazed window, a conversation which took place outside regarding me. The constable who arrested me was not the one I had seen on the previous evening, but the sergeant. He had a most kindly face, and spoke to me in a pitying kind of way, which placed him at once high in my estimation. It was his voice I now heard saying: "Yes, poor devil, he is as mad as a hatter." A second voice said: "Where have I seen that chap before? Oh! I know now. He was up at Longton's last night with a whisky before him." This was incorrect but it helped me, for the sergeant was confirmed in his suspicion that I had been drinking. I heard him say that we should go to Dunedin in the morning, and then I knew for the first time that there was only one doctor in the township, and my hopes fell again to zero. Soon the voices died away, and I was alone, Yes, alone in a cell; and the pale moonlight through the grated aperture filled my prison with a ghostly light. The exertions of the day and evening had quite wearied me, and ere many more minutes I was sound asleep. I did not think telling lies was such hard work, although I have followed the profession of a journalist for many years; but I had not only acted a part but created it. I remember nothing more till the faint beams of morning illumined my dungeon with a gray light. I knew that I should soon see my kindly sergeant, because the train starts from Palmerston for Dunedin at about seven o'clock. When he came he inquired how I had slept, and then catechised me again. He was artful enough to go over the same ground as before, but not in the same order; but I was equally artful, and stuck to my text. Then he brought me some breakfast — nice bread and butter and a pannikin of beautiful tea, with real cream in; and I was much refreshed thereby. When I was dressed we adjourned to the office, where he filled up a couple of forms which I had to sign. I obeyed, and in rude characters inscribed the name "Jabez Mountfort." It was evident when we got to the station that the story of my arrest had gone abroad, for I could feel myself the object of general curiosity. When my eye fell on anyone, his or her glance would be immediately and consciously averted. So kind and considerate was my sergeant that he waited on the platform of the carriage and told the guard I was his prisoner, and so obviated from me the embarrassment of being asked for my ticket. Prisoners in charge of a constable travel free. If I had really been mad I should have felt extremely uncomfortable, from the staring of all the people in my own and the next carriage. One young woman in particular was so fascinated that she could not keep her eyes off me, until finally I winked at her confidentially, and she changed her seat. A reverend gentleman, also in the next carriage, looked at me very frequently, and regarded me, I could not help fancying, with professional pride, as I was supposed to have religious mania. All went well on the journey down. Not a soul did I see who recognised me. When we got to Seacliff station all eyes were turned towards the Asylum; but out of deference to me, I think, the conversation turned only on the probability of its slipping into the sea. All the time I spoke not a word. I never kept such a prolonged silence before.
GETTING A FRIGHT. When we were at Waikouaiti station, to my horror there stepped on the platform of the carriage one of the compositors in one of the newspaper offices who had served his time in an office down country where I was editor. He did not catch my eye, however, and I turned my face towards the corner and studiously kept my back to the company. The morning paper was lent to me, and buried behind its folds I felt secure. I got another shock at Port Chalmers, where a large number joined the train, but no one knew me. Soon we arrived at Dunedin, and the train drew up at the platform on the town side. At my request the sergeant kept a little distance from me, so that I might not too easily appear to be in custody, but not far enough to complete the illusion. I was now in mortal dread of being accosted by some one. Any chance recognition would have ruined me, for one of my fictions was that I did not know a soul in the country. At the corner of Maclaggan and Rattray streets a constable was standing, and he gave a smile at me, recognising "John Dacre, of Tapanui," but a portentous wink silenced him. There bounced out of the door of the Police Court an intimate acquaintance, and he too had to be pulverised by an ominous wink. Neither the watchhouse keeper nor any of the police recognised me; but really one side of my face was sore with winking.
INTERVIEWING HIS WORSHIP. My captor now learned that the Magistrate was otherwise engaged, and to him we hied. On the way we passed many of my acquaintances, all of them looking surprised at my plight. One incident in particular roused me great vexation. Standing at the corner of the Government buildings was a gentleman — a former employer of mine — who is an ex-member of Parliament and a member of several boards. I do not know whether be recognised me, but I fancy he did, because he looked so embarrassed, and I had no opportunity to explain. He therefore probably thinks still that I was charged with some offence. When we got to the Court-house Mr Carew was engaged in his room upstairs, and I had to wait in the passage downstairs. It was about the hour at which the Court opened, and many passed to and fro. Among them was Sir Robert Stout, who never forgets a face, but I kept mine sedulously concealed. When His Worship was disengaged he went upstairs, the clerk meanwhile having filled up the necessary forms. The most trying ordeal of all now began. The sergeant was duly sworn, but was asked no questions. He was merely swearing to the truth of the information he had laid. Then His Worship turned to me, and I kept my eyes averted. "What is the matter with you?" he asked in kindly tones. "Nothing at all" was my reply. "They have detained me against my will, and prevented me from carrying out my instructions." With a few questions, whose direction my replies controlled, he elicited from me my story of the previous night. The examination lasted about five minutes, and I could see from His Worship's face that he was satisfied of my insanity. He remanded me for medical examination, and we went downstairs. He shortly followed, and said to the sergeant, who was waiting for some more papers about me: "That is a very dangerous man, sergeant; he might take anybody for Judas Iscariot, and kill him."
UNDERGOING MEDICAL EXAMINATION. The clerk rang up the Telephone Exchange and called upon two doctors, asking them to come to the police station and examine a lunatic. I was then marched back to Maclaggan street, and lodged in a cell — the very same one which contained the lunatic on my former visit — and I was left alone. The cell was the counterpart of the one which the Maori is described as having escaped from at Addington. The ceiling, about 12ft high, was broken by an inverted well about 3ft square, 9ft high, and closed in by a skylight. Escape from such a place is a great feat. In about an hour's time a medical gentleman came to my cell and examined me. He put a number of questions to me, but did not reason with me. All I said was apparently taken for granted. The date of the commencement of my "delusion"; its recurrence about four months ago; and my pursuit of the supposititious Judas Iscariot were all elicited from me. In about ten minutes we were finished, but he shortly returned to ask me some more questions — not about my ailment, but about my age and my religion. Then I made a mistake which might, and indeed should, have floored me. I unguardedly said I was a Presbyterian. I don't know how the doctor reconciled Presbyterianism with a hankering after the blood of Judas Iscariot. I was again left alone, but soon the cook, by "Major" Bevin's instructions, brought me some dinner. It consisted of a pannikin of hot kidney soup and bread and roast beef. In the kitchen I could see the men having dinner, and among them my sergeant. I expected every moment that something would arise which would cause me to be identified, but nothing did. After a little while another doctor came. I now indulged in a little pleasantry on my own account. Affecting to be "worried," I said to him "Are you here to catechise me, too? I have been catechised all the morning about my belief." "No," he said, "I'm not going to catechise you. What is the matter?" "Those police are so ignorant," I said. "What do they know about theology?" "Look here," I resumed argumentatively, and emphasing my remarks with my forefinger, "Judas did not hang himself," etc.; and again I ran over my little story. When I had finished, he artfully changed the subject by saying "I see you've got a boil on your neck. If you wet your collar it won't hurt you so much." Then we resumed the discussion. What finished him off was when I said "If I carry out my instructions and confer a welcome death on Judas, your laws will call it murder. You called his Master's offence treason, and crucified Him." The doctor then left me with the remark that I had evidently thought a good deal about the matter. Interrogated as to how I should recognise Judas, I replied that I should feel the influence of contact with him in the manner described in Lytton's 'Strange Story.' I had only read 'The Wandering Jew' as a boy. I was now left in peace, but not yet certain of the result.
OFF TO SEACLIFF. About three o'clock, my sergeant, in whom I now began to feel almost a proprietary interest, came to my cell and said we would now go home. From this I knew that he had the warrant for my committal in his pocket, and that wild horses would not drag me away from him until we were safe in Seacliff. From sundry remarks which he dropped on the way to the station, I could see that he had become suspicious that he had been sold, for I now cast off all appearance of eccentricity. I joined in conversation, and betrayed the fact that I had been considerably more than four months in the colony. When we were below Port Chalmers, he asked me "Who the devil are you, anyway?" and when I smilingly answered that I was the "Vagrant," he almost groaned, and said: "Another lesson for me; one of many." (To be continued.) -Evening Star, 27/11/1888.
"THE VAGRANT" IN SEACLIFF ASYLUM.
(Concluded.) We soon landed at Seacliff, and wended our way up to the palatial building erected at such expense. We entered by the back way, and against the wall, and lounging about were a number of patients. Some of them knew my companion and spoke to him, and one of them did a small war dance about me, saying "Here's another one." Up a long, causewayed vestibule we went, and entered the main building, and stood at the door of the doctor's room.
A DETENUE. My body was then formally handed over to the Asylum authorities, and the sergeant took a receipt for me as if I were a cord of wood. The doctor glanced at the medical reports, and asked me what was this about Judas Iscariot! I repeated my story, and in about three minutes all was over. I was to be taken to Ward No. 2; and now left my kind sergeant. All honor to Sergeant Conn. While acting strictly within his duty, he was kind to me. Not a cross word or look did he give me, and did not even resent the deception which had been played upon him. That he was deceived was not his fault. He would have been to blame if he had not arrested me, seeing that I was talking about killing some unknown person in some undefined way. If ever I do, unfortunately, lose my mental balance, I only hope I shall fall into as kind hands as those of big-hearted Sergeant Conn.
PASSING THROUGH THE WARDS. I now resume the thread of my narrative. While we were waiting at the doctor's door there came sounds through a glass door on my right hand as of a person moaning in pain. When I was remanded to Ward No. 2 we went through by this door, and I found the sounds to proceed from a man paralysed in the lower part of his body, who swayed continually backward and forward uttering these heart-rending cries. He was not in pain, but thought he was singing. This was Ward No. 1, or the hospital ward. All along the walls of the apartment were seated men in all attitudes. The entrance of the head attendant and myself attracted scarcely any attention. Each one seemed absorbed in his own trouble, and at the most we only received a vacant stare. There was a bagatelle table in the room, and several were playing a listless game. Several pictures and collections of growing ferns decorated the walls of the apartment, and the windows commanded a fine view of the sea and the strip of land intervening. Passing onward we now entered No. 2, the "refractory" ward, and I now saw those with whom I had come to spend an indefinite time. All my friends alleged that I could not get out under a month, and some thought it might take me several, so that I must confess to having felt a little trepidation. I was duly handed over to the attendants of No. 2, and was conducted by them to a bathroom. I must have been labelled dangerous, for four of them attended me. I was ordered to strip, and did so, no privacy being allowed. Then I entered the bath, which was deliciously warm and clean. One of the attendants asked me what the matter was with me, and when I gaily told him "Nothing " he replied that he believed it. Not one of the attendants believed me insane for a moment, for I ceased all feigning now that I had gained my point; but they had to act as if they did all the same. I bathed myself without assistance, and was then duly indued into a clean flannel and shirt, and my own clothes removed. I was then requested to "come along," and I said "Surely you'll give me my breeches." "Oh, but you are going to bed," said the head attendant, and I was obliged to run the gauntlet thus scantily attired through a ward full of lunatics. Some of them were mending clothes, others playing draughts, others listlessly standing or sitting in one position. I was conducted to the reception room — a roomy cell lit only by a skylight. My apartment was about 10ft square and about 12ft high. In one corner on the floor was a bed of straw, with plenty of blankets and pillows, but no sheets. At the side of the door — which opened outward, and was lined with sheet iron inside — was a narrow slit of glass, through which the interior might be at any time seen. The attendants were kind enough to me, especially so the head attendant of the ward (Mr Power), who spoke to me in quite a gentlemanlike way.
DECIDE TO GIVE MYSELF AWAY. Left now to my own reflections I exulted in my success, and considered how long I should allow the deception to continue. After mature thought I decided to reveal all to the doctor the first time he examined me. I had two reasons: First of all, to gain a knowledge of the routine of the institution was not part of my original plan, and would take me at least a month, which I could not spare. Again, I thought how serious a matter it would be to deceive the doctor. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been a fair contest of my professional skill against his, but then he would have to be told some time, and might naturally resent it. Events showed that I adopted the most wise course. I was momentarily expecting a domiciliary visit, as someone said the doctor would soon see me; but the first visit I had from the outside world was from the person who brought me my tea. That meal consisted of a large slice of bread and butter and a pannikin of tea. And such tea! Shades of the Mandarins! how your traditions are defiled. The tea must have been rubbish to start with. Then it appeared to have been boiled and cooled and mixed with cold water, boiled again, and then allowed to stand in a tin vessel all night, with the result that it was literally the weakest imitation I ever tasted. I wonder if the medical superintendent ever tastes it. The bread was not positively unwholesome, but was dark and heavy, and the butter was not exactly gilt-edged. Notwithstanding that optimum condimentum fames I could not negotiate the whole of my supply. At seven o'clock I heard the order "Bed," and in the passage outside my door I could hear preparations for retiring. In very few minutes all had retired for the night. The process is very simple. Each patient stands up and takes off his clothes in the ward, folds them up, and places them all together. They do this smartly, and when all are undressed they march off to their dormitories. The more refractory ones occupy separate cells, while if they are likely to hurt themselves they are put in a padded room, or perhaps wear locked gloves, which render their hands harmless. Darkness gradually drew in, and about an hour afterwards an unusual commotion was heard in the passage. The attendants ran along, each with a lantern, and one opened my door and held up the light above his head. This intimated that the doctor was going his nightly round. He sees every patient night and morning. He entered my cell guarded by several attendants, and held his handkerchief to his mouth. He did this at every visit, but I could not find out the reason. I was simply asked whether I had been given tea, and whether I had enough blankets. I replied in the affirmative, and was again alone. The visit to our section of the building was soon over; the attendants retired to their own quarters, and left the place in charge of a night-watchman. It would be a mistake to say that silence reigned supreme. I was in the refractory ward, and was not allowed to forget it. Two cells from me a Frenchman kept continually singing and swearing horribly. A little farther away a patient was imitating all the cries of a farmyard, such as cackling of hens, geese, and turkeys, bleating of sheep and cattle, whinnying of horses, etc. Another man sang songs, another hymns, and so on far into the night, until at length exhausted, they fell asleep, and let me do the same. I slept very well till daylight, and awaited the ringing of the great bell — the signal for rising — at six o'clock. I was not allowed to rise then, though; the doctor had to see me first. Therefore I was indulged with breakfast in bed. That meal consisted of a bowl of porridge, certainly not well made, and moistened with milk which no respectable cow would acknowledge the maternity of; tea — the same old quality; and bread and butter. I did not see the other patients at their meals, but they don't look as if they got too much; and I once saw one man coming from the dining room concealing a slice of bread, which he ate in the yard, so he evidently had not had enough. The doctor paid me another visit this morning. He merely asked me how I had passed the night, and if I had been given breakfast. I tried to fix his eye, to see what manner of man he was, but he evaded me. About, eight o'clock I was told I could get up, and I was now dressed in the Asylum clothes. A pair of printed moleskins about six inches too long for me (extremely comfortable, and, I might add, commodious), flannel drawers, a double-breasted vest, with brass trouser buttons, strong woollen socks, and new slippers, a sac coat (which fitted me very well), and a new felt hat, composed my outfit, and I was now,
TO ALL INTENTS AND PURPOSES, A LUNATIC. But before I rose I had to go through a saddening interview. There was an inmate who was formerly my comrade professionally. Reverses of fortune had deranged his mind, and practically left his young family fatherless. He was brought to my cell, and recognised me instantly. He almost blubbered over me, and would insist on undressing and lying down beside me. Then he passed his hand over my head phrenologically, and asked what I was doing there, as I was no lunatic. Poor fellow! When I thought of the light-hearted chap he was when I first knew him, I could have cried with him at the contrast between then and now! When I had completed my toilet I was allowed to mix with the others in the ward. Several of them I had known in former years. One, in particular, I saw at Nokomai only about eight weeks since, and he is another illustration of the facility of the Avernian descent to the Asylum. This poor fellow had been putting in a tunnel by himself for twelve months, and had got no gold. Very probably he was not too well fed. On the night of my arrival at Nokomai I was in pursuit of information, and he was at the "pub" where I was staying. I treated him a couple of times, and he had altogether four glasses of whisky. This acted on his possibly enfeebled frame, and next morning he complained of rats in his inside. Then, of course, he was considered mad. The constable at Lumsden was sent for, the man was taken to Invercargill, and now he is in this Asylum. I was told he was fractious after his arrival, but who of us would tamely submit to imprisonment? Many of the patients have some light task, such as mending. One (described as very dangerous) was doing a piece of fancy needlework with colored wool on canvas. Another was making watch-guards out of new boot-laces. One was scrubbing a bath at the farther end of a passage. I accosted him, and he pleasantly replied. One of the attendants hovered near, and afterwards told me that I had a narrow escape, because the patient had an ugly habit of springing at one's throat, and did so when he was smiling the most. I played draughts with my Nokomai friend, and, may add, got beaten by him. I also played with an Irishman, who kept talking about the Scotch Fusiliers and Armed Constabulary when he wasn't inviting the others to box. I dressed him down. I was among the patients about two hours, and was in great hope of filling my mental note book — for of course I was allowed no writing materials all this time — when I heard my name called out.
INTERVIEWED BY THE DOCTOR. Answering to "Mountfort," I was conducted to a dormitory where the doctor awaited me. He asked me about my alleged previous detention in the Kew Asylum. I shall not easily forget his face when I told him I had been there only as a visitor; that I was not a lunatic, but a reporter making an investigation into the facilities for gaining admission to the asylum, and all for publication in your columns. I cited the names of several who previously knew of my intention, for I had been careful to manufacture such circumstantial evidence in case of any accidental detention. When I had finished he turned abruptly and went away. I trust that Dr King will forgive me the deception, and will, I am sure, appreciate the sacrifice I made when I waived the promptings of professional instinct out of deference to his professional amour propre the moment he began to ask me about my symptoms. He evidently attached some importance to my statement, for in a little while the ward was cleared of the other patients, and I was left alone with only an attendant to watch me. I did not know whether this was a sinister or a favorable indication. The attendants said it was sometimes done in the case of very dangerous inmates, but, on the other hand, it might mean that I was not to see anything. However, I was happy enough. I played bagatelle with my attendants, who were relieved every two hours, smoked my pipe, read the newspaper and a book which had been sent me, and watched the movements of the men in the exercise yard. One of them, my French neighbor of the previous night, stood opposite my window continually. He had a short clay pipe, which he kept cocked against his nose, and had made quite a sore place by so doing. When he was not doing this, he was calling me names through the window. A Cariboo was his favorite term of endearment. My former old friend monotonously walked round and round the circular plot in the centre of the yard. The "Scotch Fusilier" went around "bossing" things generally. Others leaned against the wall moodily, or stood as if rapt in contemplation. No conversation of any kind was apparent. One ebony rascal, in whom I recognised a Krooman committed from Invercargill, sat contentedly in the rain until dragged under the verandah by an attendant. Out of the front windows I could see the gangs of inmates going to work, but compelled to return frequently on account of the rain. Among them all the attendants sedulously kept an eye about, being only distinguishable from the inmates by having possession of keys. Every door of the institution is locked every time a person passes through.
THE ATTENDANTS. The matter of the attendants is one that so intimately concerns the well-being of the patients that it should be rigorously looked into. I fear that an attendant is engaged more because the institution happens to be in want of a painter or a carpenter, and so on, than because of special fitness for having charge of lunatics. The wages are too small to induce tradesmen to retrain. They get only L70 a year, and the moment they hear of better employment they are off. Hence a constant succession of new and consequently inexperienced men runs through the institution, and that cannot be good for the patients. Warders ought, so far as possible, to be men of special fitness for such arduous work; and should, above all, be men of more than ordinary intelligence.
SOME CURIOSITIES. My dinner was brought to me, and I ate it in solitary state. It consisted of a pannikin of vegetable soup, mutton, potatoes, and bread. The food was cut up for me, and I ate it with a spoon, as knives and forks are not allowed in the refractory ward. Through the room in which I was detained the other inmates of the ward passed to and fro to their meals. Sometimes a little delay would occur, and I would have an opportunity of observing them closely. One Chinaman in particular always went to a certain spot, knelt down, spat on the floor, and wiped the place round and round with his hat. Another man constantly held his hat down over his ears with both hands. Another monotonously rubbed one palm with the forefingers of the other hand. Others have more filthy habits needless to recapitulate. All have some peculiarity. It might safely be sworn that there was no sane patient in the refractory ward, at all events. My tea was also brought to me, and it consisted of the same fare as on the previous evening, except that I had some meat left from my dinner, which made an acceptable addition.
GET MY CONGE. At seven o'clock we all retired to rest. I was again placed in the "reception room," and from this I augured that my deliverance was nigh, for I had evidently not yet been assigned a place in the institution. The doctor made his usual round, handkerchief to I mouth as usual, and made the customary inquiries, but gave no sign of his intentions. The entertainment by my neighbors did not prove nearly so troublesome as on the previous night, because I was getting accustomed to it, and I slept well. Next morning the doctor, when he came, asked me how I had slept, and I answered that I had slept like an hibernating bear and awoke as hungry as one. He smiled, and was about to leave, when I recalled him. I mentioned that I was getting a little apprehensive about the length of my detention, but he was too wily to let drop any expression which might give a clue to his intentions. I again breakfasted in bed because I had to keep my room until the wards were cleaned up. After I arose, about nine o'clock, another day similar to the previous one began. Smoking and chatting, interspersed with bagatelle, filled up the time. My smoking was by the kindness of the attendants, who seemed to have implicit confidence in me. The daily allowance of tobacco among the forty-five smokers in the ward is eight small plugs. Each one thus gets about a sixth part of an ounce and a-quarter — just about enough for one decent smoke. None of the patients are allowed to carry matches, but the attendants have a supply for their use. I did not scruple to ask the attendants for tobacco when I required it, and it was cheerfully given. I fancy they thought me an exceptional patient, from the manner in which I was treated. In the forenoon the doctor again came to me and offered me three numbers of London 'Punch,' and spoke quite cordially, so that my hopes rose considerably. I was now as anxious to get out as I had formerly been to get in, and the uncertainty was very unpleasant. Judge, then, of my joy when about five o'clock in the afternoon the doctor came to me and accosted me by my real name, saying that I could now go whenever I chose. The revulsion of feeling sent such a flow of blood to my head that a painful headache resulted. I speedily reassumed my own garments. But I had to interview the head attendant yet before I went, and I found that this was for the purpose of providing me with a railway ticket for Dunedin. Patients are always sent to the place whence they are committed, but in my case I had to undertake to refund the money, which obligation I unhesitatingly incurred, as may be supposed. I found on leaving the institution that my adventure had been noised abroad, and I did not doubt that those who procured my incarceration had by this time found out their mistake. I have, I trust, adhered to my promise to give my experience in plain narrative. Nothing have I extenuated or aught set down in malice, and it is now for more skilful heads than mine to benefit by what I have written. — Yours sanely, The Vagrant. -Evening Star, 28/11/1888.
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