The Chicago Tribune - Sunday, June 23, 1895
This report was originally published in English. Machine translations may be available in other languages.
Oscar Wilde on a Treadmill.
[New York World.]
WHO would have thought not long ago that Oscar Wilde, the apostle of dainty estheticism, the wit and poet, fêted everywhere and even worshipped at times by people of position and discernment - who would have dreamed it even? - would come to sweating on a prison treadmill? Yet there he is, shaven and shorn, rough clothing chafing his flesh that once knew only the softest fabrics, the associate with vulgar and brutal criminals - himself a criminal. No more unlikely transformation could have been imagined. He who predicted such a future for this lover of the beautiful would have been regarded as a malicious iconoclast or an idiot. Yet there is Wilde, treading, treading, treading, with the drear prospect of continuing to tread for nearly two years to come.
At Pentonville, where Wilde is serving the sentence, the prison suit is of dirty drab canvas marked with three arrows, heavy rough shoes, and an ugly Scotch cap. Life in this prison is not pleasant by any means. Wilde’s sleeping accommodations are the scantiest. Cots are unknown to the prisoners there. A plank bed, composed simply of a board raised six inches above the floor, without a mattress, is what he sleeps on. He is given each week two clean sheets of heavy, course material and two rugs as rough as ordinary horse blankets. The rules about communication with the outside world are exceedingly severe. He can neither write nor receive a letter from his friends or family until three months of his sentence have been served, and then he may write and receive one letter a month, and be visited for twenty minutes by three friends.
At Pentonville the prison suit is of dirty drab canvas, marked with three arrows, heavy, rough shoes, and an ugly Scotch cap. Life in this prison is not pleasant by any means. Wilde’s sleeping accommodations will be of the scantiest . Cots are unknown to the prisoners there. A plank bed, composed simply of a board raised six inches above the floor, without a mattress, is what he will sleep on. He will be given each week two clean sheets of heavy course material and two rugs as rough as ordinary horse blankets. The rules about communication with the outside world are exceedingly severe. He can neither write nor receive a letter from his friends or family until three months of his sentence have been served, and then he may write and receive one letter a month, and be visited for twenty minutes by three friends.
At Pentonville the prison suit is of dirty drab canvas, marked with three arrows, heavy rough shoes, and an ugly Scotch cap. Life in this prison is not pleasant by any means. Wilde’s sleeping accommodations will be of the scantiest. Cots are unknown to the prisoners there. A plank bed, composed simply of a board raised six inches above the floor, without a mattress, is what he will sleep on. He will be given each week two clean sheets of heavy coarse material and two rugs as rough as ordinary horse blankets. The rules about communication with the outside world are exceedingly severe. He can neither write nor receive a letter from his friends or family until three months of his sentence have been served, and then he may write and receive one letter a month, and be visited for twenty minutes by three friends.
The treadmill is the great bugaboo of the English convict. It is almost barbaric in its severity and savors somewhat of the torture inflicted upon unfortunates 500 years ago. It is shaped somewhat like the wheel of a stern-wheel steamer or the paddle-wheel of a ferry boat, except that the treadmill is considerably wider than they are. For the accommodation of the many involuntary workers at a height which a man of ordinary physique can easily reach is a long bar of wood. When all is ready the prisoner jumps up on one of the steps of the wheel and grasps the bar with his hands. The steps are called floats in the far land of Pentonville. The weight of the men turns the wheel, and as they sink down on one foot they must step up to the next float when it comes round. It is much like climbing a particularly nasty flight of steep stairs with no ending at the top.
It is shaped somewhat like the wheel of a stern wheel steamer or of a paddle wheel of a ferry boat, except that the treadmill is considerably wider than these . For the accommodation of the many involuntary workers at a height which a man of ordinary physique can easily reach is a long bar of wood. When all is ready the prisoner jumps up on one of the steps of the wheel and grasps the bar with his hands. The steps are called floats in the far land of Pentonville . The weight of the men turns the wheel and as they sink down on one foot they must step up to the next float when it comes around. It is much like climbing a particularly nasty flight of steep stairs with no ending at the top.
It is shaped somewhat like the wheel of a stern wheel steamer or of a paddle wheel of a ferryboat, except that the treadmill is considerably wider than these. For the accommodation of the many involuntary workers at a height which a man of ordinary physique can easily reach is a long bar of wood. When all is ready the prisoner jumps upon one of the steps of the wheel and grasps the bar with his hands. The steps are called floats in the far land of Pentonville. The The weight of the men turn the wheel and as they sink down on one foot they must step up to the next float when it comes round. It is much like climbing a particularly nasty flight of steep stairs with no ending at the top.
What is more, there is no dodging or shirking the work. When the float comes round Oscar Wilde, like all his brother felons, must step on it, otherwise he will get an ugly knock on the shins by the ever turning wheel, which will peel the bark off from the knee to the instep. It is not pleasant work by any means. It is the kind that completely takes the heart out of the most hardened criminal. At the end of a long day of ceaselessly stepping from float to float there is nothing to show for it. Each man is nothing more than a very insignificant section of a huge mass of machinery. The work of the convicts in America is play in comparison with it. In Pentonville all that the workers of the treadmill have to look forward to is the short breathing spells permitted by the prison regulations.
What is more, there is no dodging or shirking the work. When the float comes round, Oscar Wilde like all his brother felons, must step on it otherwise he will get an ugly knock on the shins by the ever-turning wheel which will peel the bark off from the knee to the instep. It is not pleasant work by any means. It is the kind that completely takes the heart out of the most hardened criminal. At the end of a long day of ceaselessly stepping from float to float there is nothing to show for the work. Each man is nothing more than a very insignificant section of a huge mass of machinery. The work of the convicts in America is a heaven in comparison with it. But in Pentonville all that the workers of the treadmill have to look forward to is the short breathing spells permitted by the prison regulations.
Oscar Wilde was sentenced to do hard labor, and this means that his time at treadmill will be four hours a day, the most severe work provided for by the prison rules. Two hours of this is done before dinner and two hours after. Some idea of the awful physical strain of the work can be gained from these facts: The men work twenty minutes and then have five minutes’ rest. In those twenty minutes they have made the equivalent of an ascent of 6,000 feet, or a trifle more than a mile and an eighth. In four hours’ work they have done the same labor that a man would do in climbing eleven miles of stairs. Going up four or five flights of stairs makes an ordinary man wish for an elevator.
Oscar Wilde was sentenced to do hard labor, and this means that his time at treadmill will be four hours a day, the most severe work provided for by the prison rules. Two hours of this is done before dinner and two hours after. Some idea of the awful physical strain of the work can be gained from these facts. The men work twenty minutes and then have five minutes rest. In those twenty minutes they have made the equivalent of an ascent of 6,000 feet, or a trifle more than a mile and an eighth. In four hours’ work they have done the same labor that a man would do in climbing eleven miles of stairs. Going up four or five flights of stairs makes an ordinary man wish for an elevator.
Oscar Wilde was sentenced to do hard labor, and this means that his time at treadmill will be four hours a day, the most severe work provided for by the prison rules. Two hours of this is done before dinner and two hours after. Some idea of the awful physical strain of the work can be gained from these facts. The men work twenty minutes and then have five minutes rest. In those twenty minutes they have made the equivalent of an ascent of 6000 feet, or a trifle more than a mile and an eighth. In four days’ work they have done the same labor that a man would do in climbing eleven miles of stairs. Going up four or five flights of stairs makes an ordinary man wish for an elevator.
The disheartening feature of the treadmill is that the criminal is always just where he started from hour after hour and day after day. No talking is allowed on the wheel, and the silence is unbroken except for the creaking of the ponderous machinery as it whirls around.
The disheartening feature of the treadmill is that the criminal is always just where he started from, hour after hour and day after day. No talking is allowed in the wheel, and the silence is unbroken, except for the creaking of the ponderous machinery as it whirls around.
The disheartening feature of the treadmill is that the criminal is always just where he started from hour after hour and day after day. No talking is allowed in the wheel, and the silence is unbroken, except for the creaking of the ponderous machinery as it whirls around.
The food of Pentonville Prison is not what Wilde has been accustomed to by any means. On weekdays the prisoners get a dish of "skilly" for breakfast. Skilly is not palatable, being a species of tasteless mush, but it is said to be healthy. Dinner consists of a tin bowl of broth, heavily charged with grease, and a chunk of bread as heavy as the traditional lead. Supper is a light affair, consisting of bread and milk, the milk being extremely thin and of a light blue shade, indicating an intimate acquaintance with water.
The food of Pentonville prison is not what Wilde has been accustomed to by any means. On week days the prisoners get a dish of "skilly" for breakfast. Skilly is not very palatable, being a species of tasteless mush, but it is said to be healthy. Dinner consists of a tin bowl of broth, heavily charged with grease, and a chunk of bread as heavy as the traditional lead. Supper is a very light affair, consisting of bread and milk, the milk being extremely thin and of a light blue shade, indicating an intimate acquaintance with water.
The food of Pentonville prison is not what Wilde has been accustomed to by any means. On week days the prisoners get a dish of "skilly" for breakfast. Skilly is not very palatable, being a species of tasteless mush, but it is said to be healthy. Dinner consists of a tin bowl of broth, heavily charged with grease, and a chunk of bread as heavy as the traditional lead. Supper is a very light affair, consisting of bread and milk, the milk being extremely thin and of a light blue shade, indicating an intimate acquaintance with water.
The rules against any of the prisoners getting food other than that of the regular fare are severe. More money than Oscar Wilde has at the present would be required to bribe the warders to smuggle food to him. Besides, all the warders watch one another and no one of them could enjoy a fat income from Wilde for any length of time without being discovered. Then the feeling against Wilde is so strong among the prisoners that he will be made as uncomfortable as they possibly can make him.
The rules against any of the prisoners getting food other than that of the regular fare are very severe. More money than Oscar Wilde has at present would be required to bribe the warders to smuggle finer food to him. Besides all the warders watch on another, and no one of them could enjoy a fat income from Wilde for any length of time without being discovered. Then the feeling against Wilde is so strong among the prisoners even that his two years will be made as uncomfortable as they possibly can be. The felons of Wormwood have already shown a repugnance for him and in many little ways have added their mite to the terrors of the prison.
The rules against any of the prisoners getting food other than that of the regular fair are very severe. More money than Oscar Wilde has at present would be required to bribe the warders to smuggle finer food to him. Besides all the warders watch one another, and no one of them could enjoy a fat income from Wilde for any length of time without being discovered. Then[sic] the feeling against Wilde is so strong among the prisoners even that his two years will be made as uncomfortable as they possibly can be. The felons of Wormwood have already shown a repugnance for him, and in many little ways have added their mite to the terrors of the prison.
Charley Mitchell, the prize fighter, something over two years ago, served a brief term in Pentonville for assaulting an old man. Mitchell did treadmill work for a short time, and he afterwards said that it almost killed him. After his first half hour at it he resorted to every artifice to be excused from further work, but without avail, as the physicians said he was the strongest man in the place.
Charley Mitchell, the prize fighter, something over two years ago served a brief term in Pentonville for assaulting an old man. Mitchell did treadmill work for a short time, and he afterward said that it almost killed him. After his first half hour at it he resorted to every artifice to be excused from further work, but without avail, as the physicians said that he was the strongest man in the prison.
Charley Mitchell, the prize fighter, something over two years ago served a brief term in Pentonville for assaulting an old man. Mitchell did treadmill work for a short time, and he afterward said that it almost killed him. After his first half hour at it he resorted to every artifice to be excused from further work, but without avail, as the physician said that he was the strongest man in the prison.
Wilde is a man of large frame, and it is a question whether he will break down under the arduous task he will have to perform or develop strength and health.