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Updated: May 8, 2025
Accordingly, his punishment had been proportionately severe—two years’ imprisonment. The sentence was now approaching completion; and, on account of good conduct, he had received the appointment of Vater to Punishment Room No. 1. The benefits were enumerated to me with open eyes by one of the prisoners—“Double rations, two rugs, and a mass-bier a day!”
I saw that a mass-bier would do a great deal in an Austrian prison. The Vater, who was a prisoner like the rest, was appealed to. He was a tall, burly-looking young man, with a frank countenance. He had quitted his honest calling of butcher, and had taken to smuggling tobacco into the city. This is a heavy crime; for the growth, manufacture, and sale of tobacco is a strict Imperial monopoly.
My half-emptied pipkin was thankfully taken by another man, under the pretence of “cleaning it.” One of my fellow-prisoners approached me. “It is getting late,” said he; “do you know what you have got to do?” “No.” “The devil!” “With all my heart.” “Have you a rug?” “No.” “You must ask the Corporal, at seven o’clock; but I dare say the Vater will find you one—for a ‘mass-bier’—if you ask him.”
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