The moral condition of the prisoners was frightful.  As the greater portion of them consisted of vicious and disorderly characters, these contaminated the whole mass, so that the place became a complete sink of abomination.  Drunkenness, smoking, dicing, card-playing, and every kind of licence were permitted, or connived at; and the stronger prisoners were allowed to plunder the weaker.  Such was the state of things in the Fleet Prison at the period of our history, when its misgovernment was greater than it had ever previously been, and the condition of its inmates incomparably worse.

During the rebellion of Wat Tyler, the greater part of the buildings constituting the ancient prison were burnt down, and otherwise destroyed; and, when rebuilt, the jail was strengthened and considerably enlarged.  Its walls were of stone, now grim and hoary with age; and on the side next to the Fleet there was a large square structure, resembling Traitor’s Gate at the Tower, and forming the sole entrance to the prison.  To this gate state-offenders were brought by water after committal by the Council of the Star-Chamber.

Nothing could be sterner or gloomier than the aspect of the prison on this side—­gray and frowning walls, with a few sombre buildings peeping above them, and a black gateway, with a yawning arch, as if looking ready to devour the unfortunate being who approached it.  Passing through a wicket, contrived in the ponderous door, a second gate was arrived at, and this brought the captive to the porter’s lodge, where he was delivered up to the jailers, and assigned a room in one of the wards, according to his means of paying for it.  The best of these lodgings were but indifferent; and the worst were abominable and noisome pits.

On entering the outer ward, a strange scene presented itself to the view.  Motley groups were scattered about—­most of the persons composing them being clad in threadbare doublets and tattered cloaks, and wearing caps, from which the feathers and ornaments had long since disappeared; but there were a few—­probably new coiners—­in somewhat better attire.  All these wore debtors.  Recklessness and effrontery were displayed in their countenances, and their discourse was full of ribaldry and profanity.  At one side of this ward there was a large kitchen, where eating and drinking were constantly going forward at little tables, as at a tavern or cookshop, and where commons were served out to the poorer prisoners.

Near this was a large hall, which served as the refectory of the prisoners for debt.  It was furnished with side benches of oak, and had two long tables of the same wood; but both benches and tables were in a filthy state, and the floor was never cleansed.  Indeed, every part of the prison was foul enough to breed a pestilence; and the place was seldom free from fever in consequence.  The upper part of the refectory was traversed by a long corridor, on either side of which were the dormitories.