THE HOOLIGAN
                        A CHARACTER STUDY

                      by W. S. Gilbert (1911)


SCENE. - A condemned cell. Bed in corner, R.U. Small deal table with 
three rush-bottomed chairs, C. Enclosed lavatory, L.U., corner. A 
painted crucifixion on the side wall. Door, R.C., in flat. Tin 
utensils on shelf, L. Bible and prayer-books on another shelf, L. 
Two semi-circular windows, barred, in L., flat. Two strips of 
cocoa-matting on floor. Two electric lights inset in flat, C., 
with glass front.

NAT SOLLY, a hooligan lad of twenty, under sentence of death, is asleep 
on the bed. He is very restless, and mons and cries in his sleep. 
Two WARDERS discovered - seated. Clock strikes six.

  1ST WARDER. Six o'clock. Time for the relief. (Turns towards SOLLY.) 
Poor devil, he's had a bad time of it. Tossing and tumbling and moaning 
and screeching out ever since he turned in at ten. Never see such a 
faint-hearted chap in all my going a-fishing!
  2ND WARDER. The weakest, cowardliest, softest-spined chap we've had 
here since Bill Shorter, who, when his time come, had to be carried on a 
chair. Like a wet hammock he was, and this chap's just such another. 
Take it they'll have to carry him.

Key heard in door, which opens. Enter CHIEF WARDER with two 
others. One carries prisoner's own clothes.

  CHIEF WARDER. Anything to report?
  1ST WARDER. No, sir. (Saluting.) Prisoner turned in at ten when we 
come on duty - slept a little, moaned and muttered a good deal. That's 
all, sir.
  CHIEF WARDER. Right. Take his prison clothes away and give him his 
own.
[1ST WARDER gathers up prisoner's prison suit. His own clothes are 
placed ready for him.
(To two new WARDERS.) Wake him now. Note anything he may say and report 
to the Governor. Come.
[To other WARDERS.
[The CHIEF WARDER and those who have been on night duty EXEUNT.
  1ST NEW WARDER MATHERS (mutters). Funks it, it seems. Well, it's 
wonderful how quiet they take it, as a rule. Even these regular London 
cock-tails make up their minds to it, and when it comes to the point, 
behave more or less like men. But this chap - ugh! (Goes to him.) Come, 
my man it's six o'clock; you'd better turn out.
[SOLLY starts with a cry, rubs his eyes, yawns, then realizes the 
situation.
  SOLLY. Six o'clock! Oh, my Gawd, it's today! Two hours! Two hours, and 
then - ! Ain't there - ain't there no answer come?
  MATHERS. To your petition? No, none, and you mustn't look for it now.
[SOLLY throws himself sobbing on the bed.
  SOLLY (moaning). No answer! Not a bloomin' word.
[Sobs.
  MATHERS (kindly). Why, it's not to be expected. Don't think of it. 
It'll only unsettle you. Turn your thoughts away from it. Come, buck up 
and face it like a man. (During this, SOLLY is slowly drawing on his 
trousers, sobbing as he does it.) Cryin' won't do no good; put your 
heart into it, and look it straight in the face. That's the way to take 
it. What are you looking for?
  SOLLY (wearily, looking about). I 'ad a brace.
  MATHERS. It's been took away - fear of accidents. The braces is always 
took away.
  SOLLY. An' my neck-cloth? I don't see no neck-cloth.
  MATHERS. That's been took away. The neck-cloths is always took away.
  SOLLY. Fear o' accidents?
[MATHERS nods.
[SOLLY slowly puts on waistcoat and coat. The other WARDER helps 
him.
  SOLLY. I say - ain't there no charnst of a reprieve? Ther's a good 
hour and a 'arf yet.
  MATHERS. No, no. It'd have come before now if it was coming at all.
  SOLLY. Oh, it's 'ard - it's 'ard! I ain't like a ordinary bloke. I'm 
feeble-minded; the doctor said so, and 'e'd know. Then I've never 'ad no 
chanst - I've never been taught nuffin', and I've got a weak 'art. I was 
in 'orsepital six weeks wiv a weak 'art! Oh, my Gawd, it's 'ard - it's 
'ard; see 'ere - my fa'ver was a 'igh toby cracksman; my muvver was a 
prig and did two stretches; my bruvvers and sisters was all prigs, and 
every chap as I ever knowd was a thief o' sorts - cracksmen, cly-fakers, 
and wot not! Am I to be judged like a bloke wots been brought up fair 
and strite, and taught a tride, and can look on a ticker wiv 'is hooks 
safe in 'is trowsers pockets? Oh, my Gawd, it's 'ard, it's 'ard!
[Sobs on bed.
  MATHERS. Poor chap! all that's true enough, but your's isn't a case of 
doin' a stretch for pinchin' a watch. It's much more serious than that. 
Come now, have a wash.
  SOLLY. Wot's the good?
  MATHERS. Why, it'll freshen you up wonderful.
  SOLLY. Garn! I don't want no wash! Washin' never freshened a bloke 
yet. I say - 'ave you - 'ave you seen many of 'em?
  MATHERS. Ah - five-an'-thirty or thereabouts.
  SOLLY. An' - 'ow did they take it?
  MATHERS. Mostly like men who've made up their minds to it. Come, buck 
up, my son! Many a man's gone through it afore you and faced it, fair 
and square. Come, pull yourself together, and show yourself as good as 
them.
  SOLLY. Ah but I ain't as good as them. I can't - I can't face it, and 
that's Gawd's troof! (With an effort.) But I'll buck up - I will. Split 
me silly, but I'll buck up.
  MATHERS. That's right.
  SOLLY. See 'ere. (Holds out his hand, which trembles violently.) 
Steady as a rock. See 'ere. (Straightens himself.) Strite as a post! 
(His effort fails and he falls sobbing on bed.)
  MATHERS. Poor chap. You've had a bad night's rest, I expect, and 
that's unnerved you.
  SOLLY. Bad night's rest! I ain't 'ad no night's rest. Just a bleeding 
nightmare, I've 'ad. Oh, them nights! them nights! The day's bad enough 
for a pore bloke wot can't read, and nuffin to do but to count the flies 
on the wall and wonder wot it's goin' to be like when it comes - only 
broke up by a hour's trudge outside and a cigarette by the Governor's 
permission. Ah, the days is bad enough, but the nights! O Gawd, the 
nights! The lyin' awake for hours - with a sick feelin' at your 'art - 
and wen you drops off, comes dreams that makes you blarst the sleep that 
brings 'em!
  MATHERS. Dreams about the poor girl?
  SOLLY. Abaht 'er? No fear. It's one dream that comes every bloomin' 
night, and sometime twicest a noight and more! There's the court - not a 
reg'lar proper court such as one's seen eversomany times, but a court 
half a mile acrost an' a quarter of a mile deep, wiv a red judge 
eversofar off in the middle; five 'undred jurymen on one side, a couple 
of 'undred lawyers in the middle, an' a thousand public coves on the 
other - the jury nodding their 'eds all the time, and the lawyers 
noddin' their 'eds, an' the public noddin' theirs - all a-noddin' 'cept 
the ole judge. An' he ses, ses he, "Prisoner at the bar," ses he, "them 
jurymen has found you guilty, and blow me if I ain't o' their way of 
thinkin'," ses 'e. "And this 'ere's the sentence," ses 'e. "And this 
'ere's the sentence," ses 'e, and 'e claps a black cap on 'is napper an' 
'is two arms stretches out o' his red togs - and they grows longer an' 
longer - quarter o' a mile long they grows - till 'is fists is close to 
my froat, the bilin in court noddin' their 'eds all the time, as much as 
to say, "That's right - go on - give it 'im!" an' when he reaches me he 
clutches me round the gullet and squeedges me wiv both 'ands till I'm 
fair choked - the crowd a noddin' all the time, as if to say, "Just so; 
we quite agrees, go on!" An' just wen I feels I'm a-dyin' I gives a 
screech and wakes up shiverin' wiv cold an' all of a 'ot perspiration, 
like a bloomin' toad, wiv my 'art a-beating nineteen to the dozen!
  MATHERS. Of course it's a bad time for a man, the last few days; but 
you're through 'em now, and says you - What's the use of funking it? 
It's got to be. That's what you says - it's got to be. There's no 
possible means of escape. There's nothing to be got by showing the white 
feather. Funk or no funk, the end's the same. That's what you says. So 
stiffen your heart, my man. Try to think of it as something that's got 
to be and that it'll be ver before you realize that it's taking place. 
That's the way to look on it, ain't it, Joe?
[To the other WARDER, who nods.
  2ND WARDER. Why don't you relieve your mind and own up to the 
Chaplain? The Chaplain will be here at seven, and he'll stop with you to 
the end. Take my advice as an old hand, and tell the whole story. It's 
wonderful how I've seen a man relieved by owning up to the Chaplain.
  SOLLY. Hown up? I 'ave howned up. I ain't got nuffin more to hown; 
hown up to the Chaplain? Why, I howned up to the judge! "Not guilty," 
says I, strite out. But did the hold fathead believe me? Not 'im!
  MATHERS. You see, the evidence against you was too strong.
  SOLLY. Hevidence? Call that hevidence? Why, it was bloomin' lies! 
Bloomin' lies ain't evidence! They swore I tried to kill the gal, when 
all I meant to do was to give her a scratch - just to teach 'er like. 
She'd bin my gal for two munce and more - two 'ole munce, mind yer! I'd 
guv her things - ah, a pot of things - joolery, mind yer - reel gold 
joolery, what the fence 'd ha' given me thutty bob for. I giv' her a 
ring - ah, and a brooch. She knowed they was pinched, but she didn't 
care - not she. I bought 'er a 'at - bought it honest - no snide, mind 
yer - and took 'er to theayters and 'alls and prig's 'ops. Then, blarst 
'er, she took up with Joe Pitcher - a pal o' mine, 'e was - we'd worked 
Endell Street and the Lane and the Garden togevver for munce and munce. 
Well, wos I goin' to stant that? Not me! I turned nasty. I tell yer 
strite, nasty I turned, and wen I swore I'd - I'd giv' her wot for, he 
put 'er up to givin' me away to the cops! There's a bleedin' sneak for 
yer - 'stead of lettin' 'er face it like a woman, he goes and puts 'er 
up to givin' me away to the cops! Blimey he did! And she dun it, too. 
Wos I goin' to stand that? Not me! So I cut 'er - I own it free - honly 
a scratch, I meant - no more, mind yer, than wot she deserved - an' my 
'and slipped (I never 'ad no luck), and I cut deeper than wot I meant. 
Now, who wouldn't ha' done wot I did - I arst you fair? If the 'Ome 
Secretary knowed I only meant to make 'er smart a bit - 'e's a soft-
'arted gent., and would never 'ave 'ad me put away for sitch a thing as 
that! It worn't made clear to him, the puddin' 'ed! - nor yet the judge 
- nor yet the jury, it wasn't. The fatheads wot wrote the petition 
smuvvered it all up, and oh, my Gawd! I've got to go today! (Furiously.) 
Devil strike me blind! but if I 'ad that blarsted old howl of a judge 
'ere, that cussed old turnip 'ed wiv a wig on it, I'd - (Checking 
himself with an effort.) - I'd forgive 'im! S'elp me I'd forgive 'im! 
I'd forgive the 'ole bilin! There, ain't I listened to the Chaplain? 
Strike 'em all blind, I'd forgive the 'ole bleedin' lot! And the 'Ome 
Secretary - boil 'is cussed old 'art - I'd forgive 'im too! That's a 
proper frame of mind, ain't it? I arst you, is it or is it not? Mind 
yer, I never meant to kill 'er - mind that - it's my case, see? Now, a 
bloke ain't to be 'ung for wot 'e never meant to do. It's murder - it's 
them wot's murderers, not me! I just meant to scratch 'er; I own that 
free and manly-like. It's Gawd's troof. I see 'im along wiv 'er, wiv my 
brooch an' my ring, pinched for 'er and given free. An' when I ses, 
"Sal, you're my gal - come along o' me,", he up an' ses 'e, "Garn, you 
ain't no man; you're just a 'eap o' tea-leaves!" And 'im wot I'd worked 
the Lane and Garden wiv for munce, and could ha' giv' away time after 
time, he kicked out back'ard an' caught me on the bloomin' shin, and 
when I 'owled she larfed, fit to split 'erself. So I swore I'd knife 'er 
- meanin' only just enuf to smart - and 'e turns and takes me by the 
scruff - me wiv a weak 'art, mind yer - and 'e kicks me till I was fair 
sick. Then she goes to Bow Street and arsts for a warrant for freats - a 
chap in court 'eard 'er - an', o' course, I laid dark for a bit. An' one 
night I comes out an' I finds 'er wivvout 'er pal; she'd bin on the 
razzle and was staggerin' along singin' and 'owlin', and I covers my 
face and goes behind 'er an' I did wot I swore I'd do. But I never cut a 
gal before - not in the 'ole course of my bloomin' life I didn't (and 
that's in my favour, mind yer), and my 'and slipped on account of youth 
and inexperience. Now I arst you fair, is a bloke to be 'ung becos 'e 
never cut a gal before? I arst you - is 'e or is 'e not? And they wot 
calls themselves lawyers wouldn't put that in the petition! And 'im what 
called me a 'eap o' tea-leaves and kicked me silly - I showed 'im manly-
like wot a 'eap o' tea-leaves can do when 'e's put to it! And 'im to go 
and give evidence of freats - 'im wot I could ha' put away a dozen times 
if I'd a mind to it! But no - that's 'im, that is - that ain't me! 
(Knock - he starts in terror.) Wot's that? It ain't time yet!
  MATHERS. No, no - keep quiet, man - it's only your breakfast.
  SOLLY (shuddering). Breakfast!
[MATHERS goes to door, opens it, and receives teapot and mug, 
slices of bread, and plate of eggs and bacon, and places them on 
table.
  MATHERS. There you are. Turn to and drink some tea. There's the ham 
and eggs you asked for yesterday.
  SOLLY. 'Am an' heggs! Ugh!
[Shuddering.
  MATHERS. Come, eat a bit. It'll give you strength.
  SOLLY (looking at his breakfast with disgust). There ain't no knife.
  MATHERS. No, it's cut up ready. You'll have to eat with a spoon.
  SOLLY. Fear of accidents?
  MATHERS. Just so - they will happen. Come, try and eat something. 
It'll stiffen you up wonderful.
[SOLLY tries to eat, but makes a poor job of it. Drinks some tea.
  SOLLY. I carn't eat.
  MATHERS. Nonsense, man. They always eat their breakfast.
  SOLLY. Do they? (Tries again - fails.) It's no good. I can't do it!
  MATHERS. Well, take some tea.
[He drinks - the cup clattering against his teeth.
  SOLLY. I carn't drink no more. (Noise at door.) Wot's that! (In utter 
terror - noise of door being unlocked.) Wot's that! (Suddenly.) They've 
come for me! It's not time! It's too soon! (Wildly.) There's a good hour 
yet - a 'ole hour! (Door opens and GOVERNOR enters, accompanied by 
CHAPLAIN, DOCTOR, two under-sheriffs in court suits, CHIEF WARDER,and 
others. SOLLY throws himself on his knees.) Gen'lmen - kind, good 
gen'lmen - tain't time! For Gawd's sake, don't take me yet. I ain't 
ready - there's another hour - a good hour - an' I want to speak to the 
parson. I want to hown up. I done it, gen'lmen - I own it free. I hown 
it free an' manly - an' I want to tell it all to the parson! (To 
CHAPLAIN.) For Gawd's sake, 'ear me! I'm not ready yet - give me a hour 
- 'arf a hour - an' me feeble-minded! I ain't ready - give me 'arf a 
hour and I'll tell everyfink! It's crool - crool to take me afore my 
time. (Suddenly ferocious.) Damn all yer 'arts, I won't go! Yer shan't 
take me! (Two warders hold him to prevent violence.) Gawd split yer - 
take yer hands off! It's murderin' me, an' I won't go - I won't go!
[Struggles desperately with WARDERS, who hold him securely. At 
last he falls exhausted and sobbing, and the WARDERS release him.
  GOVERNOR. Solly, be calm and listen to me. (SOLLY sobbing and gulping 
on the floor.) We have not come to take you away; we are here to bring 
you good news. (SOLLY looks up, amazed.) We are here to tell you that 
your petition has been favourably received. Taking your youth, your evil 
training, and the influence of bad associates into consideration, His 
Majesty, on the recommendation of the Home Secretary and of the judge 
who tried you, has been graciously pleased to commute the death penalty 
into one of penal servitude for life. (SOLLY stares vacantly, as if he 
understood imperfectly.) And I trust that this merciful exercise of the 
Royal Prerogative will have its due effect upon you, and that when you 
regain your liberty (which, if you behave well in prison, will take 
place in twenty years) you will abandon your wicked course of life, and 
so justify your narrow escape from the fearful doom to which you were 
sentenced.
  SOLLY (who has been gazing wildly at the GOVERNOR during this speech 
as one who is completely dazed). Commuted! Penal servitude! Then - then 
I'm not to be 'ung? I'm to live?
[GOVERNOR nods assent. The CHAPLAIN goes to SOLLY to raise him 
from the floor. SOLLY springs up, straightens himself, looks 
wildly around him, gives an agonized cry as of a man in acute 
pain, and falls senseless on the stage. They bend over him - the 
DOCTOR turns him face upwards, feels his heart, and puts his ear 
to SOLLY's mouth.
  DOCTOR. Heart failure.
  GOVERNOR. Dead?
  DOCTOR. Dead.
[Movement.
CURTAIN.