The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1895-07-06
WILDE PICKING OAKUM.
THREW UP HIS HANDS
AND TAINTED ON THE TREAD
MILL.

Nothing to Read Hut the BibIe-FIew
Into n Rage When the PentOnviIIe
Prison Chaplain Tried to Talk Re-
ligiOn-His wife Adopts Another
Name.
From the New York World.
London. June A.-How is Oscar Wilde
bearing the strain Of his new life as a con-
Wet in dreary Pentonville prison? That is
question otter asked nowadays by thous-
ands over here who were dazzled or scan
dalized by his epigrams, said or written.
So far there has been on authentic answer.
1t has come in the way of the present
writer to find out something about 1t that
can be relied upon, as it comes from the
best possible source, An interesting and,
in one way, terrible story it makes.
All the world knows how he broke down
when the inevitable end of his trial came
before him; how he was dragged from the
court to prison with the scathing denun-
Citations of the judge, with the Kisses and
curses of his fellow citizens; how he was
sent to Pentonville. the ugliest and most
savage of English prisons, there to be
shorn and clad in the convict uniform and
made ready for the treadmill.
The cell into which they put him and
which will be his home for the next two
years Is in extreme contrast to his lux
urous apartments of a few weeks ago.
1t is very small, perfectly bare; made
even more hideous by a rough coating of
whitewash. There is a wretched, hard
,,,xsl oInt
its plain board top. On the table is the
only literature permitted him-a copy Of
the Bible. He must read this or he may
not read at all.
He rises at 6 a. M, and before breakfast
he must clean his cell, sweep It, make the
bed and in every way get it into condition
for the sharp eyes of the inspector.
Then, at 1880 a. m, he has breakfast
eight ounces of whole meal wheaton
bread, a pint of cocoa sweetened with mo-
lasses, or, by way of variety, a pint of
Cruel; Scotch oatmeal, salt and water. At
S:45 he goes to prayers, standing in the
files with several hundred other convicts,
and compelled to an attitude of reverence.
AT noon he has his two-course dinner.
which varies regularly with the day of the
week. On Sunday and Wednesday II is po-
tatoes and suet pudding. On Monday and
Friday he always has potatoes and boiled
beef. on other days there is a soberer,
more dsCetlc tAel OI pOldlOeS anu soup.
There is always eight ounces of bread
Occasionally, as a great surprise. instead
of boiled beef. they give him cold mutton
or beans and bacon. At p. m. he has sup
per, daily repetition of the frugal break
fast. Between supper and bed he may
mediate as he sits in his cell, or may
read the Bible. At $50 p. m, lights must
be out. and every convict including Con-
Wet Wilde, must be stretched out in bed. |
Wilde has not yet reached the point where |
sleep straightway comes to shut out the |
waking hours that must seem to him |
dream.
All this is detestable enough to the bru- |
tai and ignorant wretches-those "crimi- 1
naP' classes about whose knowledge Of /
aesthetics Wilde was speaking with such
epigram on the witness 4
stand in the trial Of his libel suit To /
Wilde, the reincarnated voluptuary of de- I
caying Greece and debauched Rome, 1t Is 1
so hideous that he cannot yet believe that I
he is not under the spell of some frIghtful /
dream. There have been many stories |