THEY DO IT DIFFERENTLY IN CHINA.THEY DO IT DIFFERENTLY IN CHINA.
THEY DON'T USE STRAIGHT-JACKETS IN PERSIA.THEY DON'T USE STRAIGHT-JACKETS IN PERSIA.
Warders are exempted from doing night duty, which is all done by the assistant warders, who are on that service one week out of three. Although when on night duty theyhad the day for sleep and recreation, I never saw one who did not detest it, because they must remain on duty continuously for twelve hours, and must not read, sit down nor lean against anything, nor have their hands behind them. These military regulations apply as well to the whole time they are on duty in the prison, day or night. A few years ago the time of daily duty was reduced to twelve hours, with one hour at noon for dinner. Besides this, at times they must do a good deal of extra duty. Each is allowed ten days annual holiday, but is frequently obliged to take it piecemeal, a day or two at a time, so that he cannot go far away from the scene of his servitude. Their duties require unflagging attention and never-ceasing vigilance, which must be a heavy tax on the brain, and the twelve hours must be passed in standing or walking about. In fact, they are subjected to military discipline, or rather despotism, and any known infraction of the rules subjects them to penalties according to the nature of the offense. Leaning against a wall, sitting down, etc., for a first offense, they are mulcted in a small sum—12 to 60 cents, usually—and are put back in the line of promotion. The fines go to the Officers' Library fund. I knew one officer, Joseph Matthews, who had been assistant warder twenty years, and, being frequently set back for doing some small favor to prisoners, was discharged from the service in 1886, without a pension, for some slight breach of regulations. He had a wife and six children, and had worked twenty years for less than $7 per week. For giving a convict a small bit of tobacco, a heavy fine, suspension, and in case it was not the first offense, expulsion from the service without a pension. For acting the go-between and facilitating correspondence with the friends of convicts, expulsion—possibly imprisonment. One of the assistant warders, who was convicted of having received a bribe of £100 from one of us at Newgate, was expelled from the service and imprisoned eighteen months. Another atPortsmouth Prison underwent the same fate, save that his term was but six months, for sending and receiving letters for a prisoner, and similar cases are of frequent occurrence.
The warders and assistant warders are the ones who come in direct and constant contact with prisoners, and when the eye of no superior authority is on them, or nothing else to deter, they are "hail fellow well met" with such of the convicts as are unprincipled enough to curry favor with and assist them in covering up their peccadilloes from their superiors. They naturally recoil at the hardness and parsimony of the Government toward them, evading the performance of duties when they can, and I have heard more than one say: "Why should we care what prisoners do, so long as we don't get into trouble? The Government grinds us down to twelve hours' daily duty on just pay enough to keep body and soul together; then, if we complain, tells us that we can leave if we like, as there are others ready to step into our places. Bah! what do we care for the Government? It is of no benefit to us; the big guns get big pay, and the higher up the office the more the pay and the less the work. To be sure, we can go out of the prison to sleep, but otherwise we are bound as closely as you are." Yet these very warders, the moment any superior authority appears on the scene, are as obsequious and fawning as whipped dogs, and recoup themselves for this forced humiliation by taking it out of such of the convicts as fail to curry their favor, or offend, or make them trouble. Surely their office is a very responsible one, and it is blind, false economy to retain low-priced men in such a position. The present English system of penal servitude is perfect on paper, but the moral qualities of most of the warders and assistant warders preclude all possibility of the reformation of those in their charge.
Notwithstanding the expositions of the English delegates at the international meetings, prison reform has never yet been tried in Great Britain and Ireland. In other words, allefforts in that direction have been defeated by placing convicts in the immediate charge of a class of men who, by education and training, possess none of the qualifications requisite for such a responsible position.
In so far as forms are concerned, the business of the prison is carried on most systematically. There are blank forms which cover everything, from provisioning the prison to bathing the men, and these must be filled in and signed by the warder in charge of the particular work being done. For example, every week he must fill in the proper form and certify that every man in his ward has had a bath. I have known men to go unbathed for many months, simply because they did not wish to bathe, and it saved the warder trouble—nearly all others in the ward only bathed about once a month, and yet at the stated times the officer filled up and signed the form, certifying to the superior authorities that those in his ward had been bathed at the regulation times.
A great majority of the officers are soldiers who have been invalided or pensioned off after doing the full term for which they enlisted—twelve years—and of sailors in the same condition. In order to encourage enlistment into the army and navy, the Government gives discharged soldiers and sailors the preference in the civil service, apparently heedless as to their moral qualifications. Indeed, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to ascertain about these, for the very nature and present requirements of these services tend to harden and make men conscienceless, subservient and fawning toward their superiors, and tyrannical to those in their power.
As to those in the prison service, there are many who would be good men in a situation suited to their acquirements, and there are but a few of those who are brought into immediate contact with the men—who, in fact, virtually hold the power of life and death over them—whose influence is of an elevating or reforming kind. Indeed, I have heardmany of them telling or exchanging obscene stories with prisoners, and using the vilest language and bandying thieves' slang, in which they become proficient. I am bold to say that at least one-half of all I have known are in morals on a level with the average prisoner, or, as I have heard more than one assistant warder say, "Too much of a coward to steal, ashamed to beg and too lazy to work"—therefore became a soldier, then a warder. This may, at the moment, have been spoken in a jesting way, but it is none the less true.
What can be expected in the way of refinement and good morals from a class of men who entered the army or navy, coming, as they did in most cases, from the untaught and mind-debased multitude with which that land of drink and debauchery swarms?
It will be seen from the foregoing that very much is expected from them, and in order to fulfill the very hard terms of their contract with the Government, and keep their places, they are forced to resort to trickery, deception and perjury, until these, in their attitude toward their employer, the Government, become second nature, readily resorting to lies to clear themselves from blame, even in trivial matters, to save themselves from a sixpence fine. There are jealousies among themselves, but when it is a question of deceiving or keeping any neglect of duties or violences against prisoners from the superior authorities they all unite as one man and affirm or swear to anything they think the position requires.
A real pleasure was derived from those prisoners' friends, the rats and mice, which I easily tamed and taught to be my companions.
"COME ON. YOU ARE FREE."—Page 480."COME ON. YOU ARE FREE."—Page480.
Not long after my arrival a prisoner gave me a young rat which became the solace of an otherwise miserable existence. Nothing could he cleaner in its habits or more affectionate in disposition than this pet member of a despised race of rodents. It passed all its leisure time in preening its fur, and after eating always most scrupulously cleanedits hands and face. It was easily taught, and in course of time it could perform many surprising feats. I made a small trapeze, the bar being a slate pencil about four inches long, which was wound with yarn and hung from strings of the same; and on this the rat would perform like an acrobat, appearing to enjoy the exercise as much as the performance always delighted me. I made a long cord out of yarn, on which it would climb exactly in the manner in which a sailor shins up a rope; and when the cord was stretched horizontally it would let its body sway under and travel along the cord, clinging by its hands and feet like a human performer.
A rat's natural position when eating a piece of bread is to sit on its haunches, but I had trained this rat to stand upright on its feet, with its head up like a soldier. Placing it in front of me on the bed, I would hand it a piece of bread, which it would hold up to its mouth with its hands while standing erect. Keeping one sharp eye on me and the other on its food, the moment it noticed that I was not looking it would gradually settle down upon its haunches. When my eyes turned on it it would instantly straighten itself up like a schoolboy caught in some mischief. It always showed great jealousy of my tame mice, and I had to be very careful not to let it get a chance to get at one. On one occasion I was training one of the mice, and did not notice that the rat was near. Suddenly, like a flash, it leaped nearly two feet, seizing the mouse by the neck precisely as a tiger seizes its prey. Although I instantly snatched it away, it was too late, the one fierce bite having severed the jugular.
I have mentioned mice, and indeed they were most interesting pets, easily trained and as scrupulously clean and neat as any creature of a higher race could be. I at times had a half dozen of them, which I had caught in the following simple way: I first stuck a small bit of bread on the insideof my pint tin cup, about half way down; then turning it bottom up on the floor, I raised one edge just high enough so that a mouse could enter, and let the edge of the cup rest on a splinter. It would not be long before one would enter, and as it could not reach the bread otherwise it stood up, putting its hands against the sides of the cup, thus over-balancing it, causing the cup to drop, and simple mousie would find itself also a prisoner.
Although there was an order that no prisoner should be permitted to have any kind of pets, especially rats and mice, and as the prison swarmed with these, the warders had become tired of being obliged to turn over the cells and prisoners daily in search of these contraband favorites, the loss of which generally provoked the owners to insubordination; in consequence of which there was a tacit understanding that they were not to be interfered with, provided they were kept out of sight when the governor made his rounds.
Nothing could overcome the jealousy of my otherwise gentle rat when it saw me petting a mouse, and it would watch for an opportunity to spring upon its diminutive rival and put a speedy end to its career.
I had one mouse which to its other accomplishments added the following: It would lie in the palm of my open hand, with its four legs up in the air, pretending to be dead, only the little creature kept its bright eyes wide open, fixed on my face. As soon as I said, "Come to life!" it would spring up, rush along my arm and disappear into my bosom like a flash.
1 Austin——. 2 Geo. McDonald. 3 Officer. 4 Geo. Bidwell. 5 Officer. 6 Noyes. 7 Mr. Straight, Q.C. McDONALD SPEAKING TO MR. STRAIGHT, Q.C., DURING THE TRIAL.1 Austin ——. 2 Geo. McDonald. 3 Officer. 4 Geo. Bidwell. 5 Officer. 6 Noyes. 7 Mr. Straight, Q.C.McDONALD SPEAKING TO MR. STRAIGHT, Q.C., DURING THE TRIAL.
I had a mouse trained the same as the one above described, and was in dread lest a warder should see and destroy it. Therefore, in the hope of getting a guarantee for its safety, one day when the medical officer on his round came to my cell with his retinue I put my mouse through the "dead dog" performance. The little fellow lay exposedin my hand with one of its twinkling eyes fixed on me, and the other on these strangers. Such was its confidence in me that it went through the performance perfectly, and when I gave the signal in an instant it was in my (as the poor thing believed) protecting bosom. The doctors laughed, and the retinue of course followed suit—if they had frowned the latter would have done likewise. The doctors appeared so pleased that I felt certain they would order the warder, as was in their power, to let me keep my harmless pet, the sole companion of my solitude and misery, unmolested.
They went outside the cell and lingered; in a moment then the warder came in, and after a struggle got the mouse out of my bosom and put his heel upon it. I am not ashamed to confess that I cried over the loss of this poor little victim of overconfidence in human beings.
I once procured a beetle with red stripes across its wing-sheaths, and trained it to show some degree of intelligence. This was for months the sole companion of my solitude, but it was at last discovered in my possession and taken away.
I made friends with the flies, and found that they displayed no small degree of intelligence. I soon had a dozen tamed, and in the course of my long observations I discovered, among other things, that the males were very tyrannical over the fair sex, and tried to prevent them from getting any of the food. In the Summer mornings at daylight they would gather on the wall next my bed and wait patiently until I placed a little chewed bread on the back of my hand, when instantly there was a rush, and the first one who got possession, if a male, tried to prevent the rest from alighting, and would dart at the nearest, chasing it in zig-zags far away. In the mean time another would have attained possession, and it went for the next corner, and for a long time there would be a succession of fierce encounters, until at last all had made good their footing and feasted harmoniously; for as fast as one succeeded in alighting itwas let alone. Sometimes a male would take possession of my forehead, and, in case I left him unmolested, he would keep off intruders on what he evidently considered his domain by darting at them in a ferocious manner. On one occasion I noticed a fly that had one of its hind legs turned up, apparently out of joint. As it was feeding on my hand I tried to put my finger on the leg to press it down. During three or four such attempts it moved away, after which it appeared to recognize my kind intention and stood perfectly still while I pressed on the leg. It may be unnecessary to add that I failed in performing a successful surgical operation.
As the Winter approached the flies began to lose their legs and wings; those that lost their wings would walk along the wall until they came to the usual waiting spot, and as soon as I put a finger against the wall the maimed creature would crawl to the usual place on my hand for breakfast. Indeed, the long years of solitude had produced in me such an unutterable longing for the companionship of something which had life that I never destroyed any kind of insect which found its way into my cell—even when mosquitoes lit on my face I always let them have their fill undisturbed, and felt well repaid by getting a glimpse of them as they flew and with the music of their buzzing.
In the cell next to mine was a prison genius named Heep, who was one of the most singular characters I ever met. As I shall have occasion to speak of him frequently, I may as well give here a sketch of his life as related to me by himself. He was born in the town of Macclesfield, near Manchester, in 1852, of respectable mechanics, or tradespeople as they are called in England. His father died when Heep was about 5 years of age, and after a time his mother married a carpenter and joiner of the place.
Young Heep was a lively child, up to all sorts of tricks, and does not remember the time since he could walk that he was not in some mischief, and, as he remarked, "took to all sorts of deviltry as naturally as a duck to water." As long as his father lived there was not much check on his mischievous propensities, but his stepfather proved to be a severe and stern judge, and brought him to book for every irregularity, thrashing him most unmercifully for each offense. His mother could not have filled her maternal duty very judiciously, judging from the fact that before he was 12 years old she set him to follow and watch his stepfather to the house of a woman of whom she was jealous. The boy possessed great natural abilities, and in good hands would have turned out something different than a life-long prison drudge. He was handsome, genteel inappearance, an apt scholar, though very self-willed and headstrong, and as he grew up his naturally hot temper became uncontrollable. At an early age he had discovered that by threats of self-injury he could bend his parents to his wishes, but found in his stepfather one who would put up with no nonsense; even when he cut himself so as to bleed freely, instead of the coveted indulgence it only procured him an additional thrashing.
At 15 he had become ungovernable at home, and his father had him put in the county insane asylum, where he remained a year and a half. While there he caused so much trouble that the attendants were only too glad when he escaped and went to Liverpool. Here he succeeded in getting a situation with a dealer in bric-a-brac, rare books and antiquities. In a short time the proprietor placed so much confidence in his integrity that he gave him the charge of his place during his own absences, and young Heep was not long in taking advantage of his position to rob his employer by taking a book or other article which he sold to some one of his master's customers. This went on for some time until on one occasion he took the book to a shop kept by a woman to whom he had previously sold several articles and offered it for a sovereign. She examined it and found that it was an ancient, illuminated Greek manuscript, worth fifty times more than the price young Heep asked for it, and, suspecting something wrong, she told him to come again for the money the next evening. At the appointed time he entered the place and was confronted by his master, who contented himself with upbraiding him for his perfidy and discharging him from his service.
At this period of his career he had contracted vicious habits, the most pernicious for him being that of drink, for when sober he was in his right mind, but the moment the drink was in his common sense departed, and he becamea raving maniac, ready to fight or perpetrate any other act of folly. Up to this time he had never been tempted to steal only in order to supply means for improper indulgences.
Not long after being discharged from his situation he was found by the police acting in so insane a manner under the influence of drink that the magistrate before whom he was taken had him sent to the Raynell lunatic asylum. Here, being perfectly reckless, he carried on all sorts of games which made him obnoxious, although making himself very useful in work which he liked, such as gardening, etc. He also took up fancy painting and soon became a skillful copyist of prints of any description, enlarging or reducing, and painting them in oil or water colors. He also became a good decorator and scene painter, besides devoting time to various studies, including music.
At last he found means to effect his escape and lay in hiding until night; then as he had on the asylum clothes, which would betray him, he went back and got in through the window of the tailors' shop, which was in an isolated building, and exchanged the clothes he had on for a suit belonging to one of the attendants. Thinking himself now safe from recognition he started off across the country, but had not gone more than twenty miles when, in passing through a small town, a policeman who had just heard of the escape from Raynell arrested him on suspicion.
The Raynell authorities sent some one to identify him; he was taken back, tried on the charge of stealing the attendant's suit of clothes, which he still had on, was convicted by the usual intelligent jury and sentenced to five years' penal servitude.
He finished his term of imprisonment at Chatham, and instead of being set at liberty was sent under guard back to the asylum!
According to English law, if a person confined in a lunatic asylum escapes and keeps away fourteen days hecannot after that be arrested, unless he commits fresh acts of insanity.
After several futile attempts he at last made good his escape and obtained work with a farmer, where he remained safe for thirteen days, and was congratulating himself that in less than another day he would be free, when his thoughts were broken off by the appearance of two attendants who seized and carried him back to the asylum.
The events above narrated had driven him into a state of desperation at what he felt to be gross injustice, and he carried on in such a way that the doctor ordered his head to be shaved and blistered as a punishment, the straitjacket and all other coercive measures having been of no avail. The night watchman had orders to watch him closely, but he kept so sharp an eye on the watchman that he caught him asleep, and, creeping to the closet window, which he had previously tampered with, crept out, and after climbing the low wall found himself on a raw November night, with the rain falling in torrents, a stark-naked, head-shaved-and-blistered but once more a free man. In this condition he wandered on throughout the night, and just before daylight he entered a cemetery to find that refuge among the dead of which he thought himself so cruelly deprived by the living.
Beneath the entrance to the church there was a passage which led to some family vaults in the basement, and he crept down the passage to seek some shelter for his nude body from the driving rain, which had chilled him through. While groping about in the dark his hand rested on something soft, which, to his unbounded delight, proved to be an old coat which had probably been left there by the sexton and forgotten. He remained hidden all day, and traveled through the fields all night, during which he found a scarecrow, from which he transferred to his own person its old hat and trousers.
He said that although so hungry, he never had felt so happy as he did at finding himself once more dressed up. After proceeding a few miles farther, he ventured into a laborer's cottage in quest of food, which was given him, and with it a pair of old boots. As dilapidated, ragged, vagabond-looking, honest people are common in England, no questions were asked, and he proceeded on his way rejoicing in that freedom of which he had been deprived for ten years or more.
Amid all his pranks he had never been charged with idleness, and now worked at odd jobs about the farms until he had procured a decent suit of clothes, when he applied to a master house painter for work as a journeyman, though he had never done anything of that kind. The master, pleased with his appearance, gave him a trial, but the first job showed such ignorance of the art of house painting that he was forthwith discharged with half a day's wages. However, he had picked up some valuable hints, and being very apt by the time he had been more or less summarily discharged from half a dozen places he had become a good workman, and henceforth had no trouble about retaining any situation as long as he refrained from beer and restrained his temper; but at the slightest fault-finding on the part of the master he would fly into a passion and throw up the situation, and this, especially, if he suspected that anything had leaked out about his imprisonment.
While at work with a companion at painting the interior of a gentleman's residence near Bradford a word or two was dropped which made him believe his fellow workman had become aware of his being an ex-convict. Quitting work, he went to a public house, passing the rest of the day in carousing. About midnight, while on his way to his boarding house, it occurred to him that he had noticed a good many valuable things about the gentleman's housewhich he could obtain. No sooner thought than done; the entrance was in a moment gained; he had just consciousness enough left to gather a few things, then lie down by the side of them and fell into a drunkard's sleep, in which the servants found him when they came down in the morning. A constable was sent for, he was given in charge, tried, convicted of the crime of burglary and sentenced to seven years' penal servitude.
His former term of five years had made him proficient in all the dodges of prison life, and he felt justified in his own mind in using all his craft in order to put in his seven years as easily as possible. As he had been in Raynell asylum, he knew that by "putting on the balmy" so as to be sent to the lunatic department he would not be subjected to the prison rules and be as well off as he had been in the free asylum. Persistent attempts at suicide by cutting himself in the arms and legs with a piece of glass so as to bleed freely accomplished his purpose. Being placed with the other convict lunatics, he made himself useful, but on account of his bad temper and overbearing, quarrelsome disposition, obnoxious to his fellow prisoners.
Eventually he was discharged with an eighteen months' ticket-of-leave and $2.50 as capital for a new departure.
He went to Liverpool, procured a passage on board a freight steamer to America, which he paid for by working at painting. Landing at New York, he made his way to Norfolk, Va., where he procured work as a painter. Owing to his infirmity of temper he did not keep his place long, and after knocking about for a few months he took a freak to return to England—the last place of all for any man who has once been a prisoner.
AFTER IMPRISONMENT. (From Photo. by Stuart, Hartford.)AFTER IMPRISONMENT.(From Photo. by Stuart, Hartford.)
Once more in his native land, he procured work without difficulty at house painting, but, as usual, remained in one place but a very short time. His earnings, like those of agreat majority of the working class in England, were squandered in the public house.
Soon after the events just recorded, Heep concluded to visit his old home in Macclesfield. He accordingly threw up his situation, and arrived at the railway station an hour before the train was due. In order to while away the time he entered a public house and drank several glasses of ale. The compartment which he entered happened to be empty, and as usual whenever he indulged his appetite for anything containing alcohol, he was soon quite out of his mind and fancied that some one on the train was coming to murder him, and leaped headlong from the train, which was going at the rate of forty miles an hour. This came to a standstill, he was taken on board again, not seriously injured, and left at Wrexham in Denbighshire, from which he was sent to the Denbigh Insane Asylum. This being a Welsh institution, did not, according to Heep, possess those facilities for enjoying life which were so liberally supplied to the inmates of the Raynell asylum near Liverpool. Accordingly he behaved himself with so much propriety that the doctor discharged him as cured.
Not long after his return he got work near Manchester at painting in a block of new houses where the plumbers were at work putting in the gas and water pipes. On a Saturday, when he left work at noon, he met a young plumber who was out of a job. This man said he knew where he could earn a sovereign if he had tools to do a job in a butcher shop, and told Heep that if he would go to the houses where he had been painting and borrow a few plumbers' tools and assist him he would divide the amount. Heep went back, but finding that the master plumber and all his men had gone (Saturday afternoon in England being a half-holiday for laborers), he took the few tools required, went and finished the job by 7 p. m.; then instead of taking the tools back, they went into apublic house where they caroused till midnight, when they separated, Heep taking the tools to his boarding house. On Monday he started early, so as to get the tools back before the other workmen arrived. On nearing the houses he passed a policeman who walked a little lame. He turned his head to look back, and the policeman happened to do the same thing, and seeing Heep looking at him his suspicions were aroused. Turning back, he came up and asked him what he had in the two bosses (tool baskets). Heep informed him, and on further questioning showed him the key to the house from which he had taken the tools, and asked him to accompany him there, which he did. They entered, Heep putting back the tools, and showed the policeman where he had been painting and wished him to stay until the master came in half an hour. This the policeman declined to do, and took the tools and told Heep to come to the police station.
Heep lost his temper and began cursing him. The policeman went to the door, and seeing another just passing beckoned him in, and the two marched him to the station. The plumber was sent for, and was induced to make a charge against Heep and value the stolen goods at ten shillings. Seeing that the police were bound to make a case against him, he seized the plumber's knife and cut his throat, severing the windpipe. The doctor was sent for, he was transferred to the jail hospital, and in the course of two or three weeks was well enough to appear before the magistrate, though he could not speak, and was bound over for trial.
In the mean time the police had discovered that he had served two penal terms, on the strength of which, when convicted, the magistrate sentenced him to ten years' penal servitude.
At the trial he had not yet recovered the use of his voice, nor did he have any one to defend him, for at thattime, unlike the present, the Crown did not furnish a lawyer for the defense of those who were unable to employ one at their own expense. When the magistrate was about to pronounce the sentence, he said that as the prisoner had escaped from ordinary asylums he should send him to a place from which he could not escape—meaning a prison.
BANK OF ENGLAND SCENE.—VISITOR HOLDING £1,000,000 ($5,000,000) BANK OF ENGLAND NOTES.BANK OF ENGLAND SCENE.—VISITOR HOLDING £1,000,000 ($5,000,000) BANK OF ENGLAND NOTES.
Once convicted of a crime in England it is impossible, unless a man has money or friends, for him to obtain an honest livelihood unless he is the happy possessor of a trade. All the great corporations demand references that will cover a series of years of the applicant's life, and, above all, strict inquiry is made as to his last employer. This cuts the ground out from under the feet of the unfortunate, and feeling that England can no longer be a home to him he turns his eyes as a matter of course to America.
A fair percentage of the prisoners are men who perhaps under great temptation, or while under the influence of drink, have broken the laws, but yet are honorably minded and resolved in future to lead an honest life. Such are not undesirable citizens; but there is another class, that of the professional criminal; with these the prisons swarm, and, worse yet, the slums and saloons of the great cities are breeding thousands more that will take the places of those now on the stage.
The conditions of society in England are such that the procession of criminals is an unending one. The society that creates the criminal also has established a system of police repression that makes the life history of society's victim one of misery, until such time when the criminal, growing wise by experience, shakes the dust of Englishsoil off from his feet and transfers himself, a moral ruin, to our country, here to become a curse and a burden.
This flow of moral sewage to our shores is constant and unceasing. Our Government has frequently protested against it, but with no success, for the officials in England indignantly deny that the State either encourages or assists the exodus of her criminal classes; but from my personal knowledge I know this to be false. The officials over there have found out an effectual way to rid themselves of their discharged prisoners as fast as their sentences expire, and cast them on our shores, and this is so ingenious a way that the wrong can never be brought home to them.
During my twenty years' residence in Chatham I suppose nearly half as many thousands asked me for information about America, and at least 95 per cent. assured me that when released they would "join the society" and depart at once for that happy hunting ground—that Promised Land which charms the imagination no less of the criminal than of the honest poor of the Old World. In every English prison the walls are decorated with placards, gorgeous in hue, of rival firms appealing to the readers for patronage. "Join us," they all say; and every prisoner knows the appeal "join us" means if you do we will ferry you over the Jordan that rolls between this desert land and the plains flowing with milk and honey on the other side. The "firms" I mention are those arch humbugs, the Prisoners' Aid Societies of England.
Elizabeth Fry, who made "aid to prisoners" fashionable and a society fad in England, has much to answer for. Prisoners' Aid Societies have sprung up in every quarter of England, and having a rich soil, and under the fostering care of the Government, have flourished with a rank and luxuriant growth. These societies draw their nourishment from English soil, but, unhappily for us, their tall brancheshang over our wall and their ripened fruit falls on our ground.
From the time a prisoner becomes accustomed to his surroundings until the hour of his release the one thing ever uppermost in his thoughts, the one distracting subject and cause of anxious solicitude, is the question, "Which society shall I join?" It is a tolerably safe venture to predict that he will "join" "The Royal Prisoners' Aid Society of London," which society is happy in having Her Gracious Majesty and a long list of illustrious lords and ladies for "governors." What that may mean no one knows. Certainly no benefit from these people ever accrues to the discharged prisoners, but who can describe the glory that falls on the four or five reverend gentlemen, sons, nephews or brothers of deans or bishops, high-salaried secretaries of this particular society, who pose at the annual meeting in Exeter Hall, before a brilliant audience, and after have the felicity of seeing their report in the church and society journals and their names connected with such exalted people.
The way the Government over there accomplishes its purpose of getting rid of its criminal population at our expense and at the same time is able to answer the charges of our Government with disavowal is this:
The Home Secretary alone possesses the pardoning power for the United Kingdom, and directly controls every prison, his fiat being law in all things to every official as well as to every inmate. He has officially recognized and registered at the Home Office every prisoners' aid society in England, Scotland and Wales, and in order to boom them he gives to every discharged prisoner an extra gratuity of £3 provided he "joins" a prisoners' aid society on his discharge, the result being that all do so. England is a small and compact country, and the police have practically one head, and that head is the Home Secretary.Under the circumstances the system of police espionage is so perfect that whenever a discharged prisoner is reconvicted for another crime he cannot escape recognition, and in all such cases the Home Secretary notifies the particular aid society who received the prisoner on his discharge of the fact, very much to the vexation of the officials of the society, who are all anxious for a good record in reforming men that come officially under their auspices. They publish that all who are never reported as reconvicted are reformed, and all love to make a big showing for the money subscribed at the all-important annual meeting, the result being that all the men hustled out of the country by the society count as reformed men.
These societies are supported by subscriptions, which all go in salaries and office rents. The assistance given to the discharged prisoner is limited to the £3 extra gratuity given the society by the Government on the prisoner's behalf. The London societies have an agreement with the Netherlands Line and the Wilson Line of steamers to "take to sea" for £2 10s. all "workingmen" they send to them. I have talked to thousands of men who "joined the society," most of whom intended to go to America, and I have talked to scores who had "joined," but who, unluckily for themselves, not leaving England, were reconvicted and sent back to Chatham. Throughout twenty years I conversed with several thousand men who joined the society avowing they were going to America, and were never heard of again in England, and have also known some scores of men who passed through the hands of the society agents, yet were afterward reconvicted. Therefore I am in a position to speak with authority on the important question of England dumping her criminal population on our shores.
"WELL MY MAN, WHAT DO YOU INTEND TO DO?" "I WANT TO GO TO AMERICA, SIR." "TUT! TUT! YOU MEAN YOU WANT TO GO TO SEA!" "YES, SIR; I WANT TO GO TO SEA."
The Royal Society and The Christian Aid Societies, presided over by a Rev. Mr. Whitely, enjoy a bad pre-eminence in this respect. The year before my release the latter stated at the annual meeting that six thousand discharged prisoners had passed through his society, and I venture to assert that five thousand of these found their way to this country through the assistance of this society. These two societies have been boomed to an incredible extent, and it would be a curious study if any report could be had as to how the large subscriptions were actually expended.
For the sake of making my narrative clear, I will here only speak of the first-named society.
LEAVING LIVERPOOL.—GEORGE BIDWELL'S FAREWELL TO JOHN BULL.LEAVING LIVERPOOL.—GEORGE BIDWELL'S FAREWELL TO JOHN BULL.
Two months before release the prisoner must inform the warder that he intends to join the Royal Society. He notifies the Home Office, which in turn notifies the society and forwards a warrant for £3. The prisoner upon discharge takes a certain train for London, and is met upon his arrival at the station by an agent of the society. This agent ranks as a servant, is usually an ex-prisoner and is always paid 21 shillings a week. He pilots his man at a certain hour before the Reverend Secretary, and here follows a verbatim report of the dialogue between the greatman and the poor, timid and dreadfully embarrassed ex-prisoner:
Great Man—Well, my man, what do you intend to do?
Ex-Prisoner—I want to go to America.
Great Man—Tut! tut! my man; you mean you want to go to sea.
Ex-Prisoner (taking the hint)—Yes, sir; I want to go to sea.
Great Man—Very well, my man. Go with this agent, who will fix it with the ship captain so you can go to sea.
If a steamer of either line named is about to sail he is taken on board at once goes to the steerage, and just before sailing the agent hands him a ticket and the criminal is safely off for America. England is rid of a bad subject, and the Royal Society has one more "reformed" man to put in its report. In addition to the £3 gratuity the ex-prisoner has been paid £1, £2 or £3 in addition, provided his sentence had been at least five years. The society is not a cent out of pocket over him, and forlorn and friendless he lands here with from $2 to $15 in his pocket. He has got the cheap suit of clothes he wears, one handkerchief and one pair of stockings extra. It is almost certain he will speedily drift into crime, spending the remainder of his life in prison, and finally dying there or in the poorhouse.
There is just one way this evil can be stopped—I might say two ways. The first, and a method that would be effectual in stopping the influx of criminals from all countries, is to let Congress put a tax of $30 or $50 on the steamship companies for every passenger not an American citizen whom they bring to America. Not one discharged criminal in a thousand could meet the tax in addition to the fare. The only other way possible would be for our Government to request the English Government to furnish them with photographs, marks and measurements of all discharged criminals. Then have them copied and sent tothe Immigration Commissioners of our ports. But that would involve a radical change in these boards and their methods. Efficiency there under our corrupt system is, I fear, hopeless.
I visited Ellis Island a few days ago and saw how they passed a shipload of immigrants in a few minutes, and as I looked I felt it was hopeless to expect any efficient measures to throw back the foul tide that is polluting our shores.
Seldom as men of the criminal class once safe in America ever return to England, yet they do now and then return. In the two or three cases that came under my observation it was very much to their loss and grief, for they only came back to undergo another term.
One day, in 1890, a man working in my party slipped a note into my hand that had been given him for me in chapel that morning. As in similar cases, I secreted the note, and when safe in my little room I read it. The writer said he had lately come down from London, and was most anxious to get into my party in order to have a chance to talk with me. He said he had been living in Chicago and could give me all the news. He ended the note by stating he was being murdered by hard work, and implored me to try and get him into my party, where it was not so hard. This I was most anxious to do, as in my party you could talk almost with impunity. To have a man near me fresh and only a year before in Chicago would be like a letter from home and also a newspaper. Therefore, I determined to get Foster in my party if possible. At this time I had been seventeen years a resident, and was, in fact, the oldest inhabitant, and had some little influence in a quiet way. About eleven years before I had been put in the party, and had a chance to learn bricklaying, and having become an expert in the art was given charge of the bricklaying. I was on the best of terms with our officer, so when, a day or two later, one of our men was so fortunate (in the Chatham view of it) asto meet with an accident and be admitted to that heaven, the infirmary, I told my officer to ask for Foster to replace him. He did so, and he, very much to his gratification, found himself by my side, with a trowel instead of a shovel in his hand. We worked side by side, Winter and Summer, storm and shine, for two years, and in spite of myself I began soon to like the man. His chief and only virtues were truthfulness and fair-mindedness toward his friends—rare and incongruous virtues for a professional burglar; nevertheless, he possessed them in a marked degree. This is a statement to make a cynic smile, and is one of those cases where the result is justifiable; yet, however the cynic may smile, there is plenty of all-around good faith in the world, and there is no nation, race or color, no clique, religion nor social strata, that has a monopoly of the article. Good faith and truth grow in unlikely places, as I have found in my career, for I have looked on life from both sides, and to look on it from the seamy side is instructive, indeed, for then the mask is off and the true character is revealed. I have been away down in the depths, and for years have toiled cheek by jowl, through sunshine and storm, in blinding snows and pelting rain, with my brother men under conditions too brutal and demoralizing to be understood if described—conditions where the very worst side of human character would naturally be thought to come to the front, and I came out of the fierce struggle in that pit of death with conclusions as to the human animal that are decidedly favorable, and I am inclined to the view that man was born almost an angel, and that, in spite of the fearful temptations of the world into which he has been thrust, much of the angelic pottery abides.
Foster's experience during his four years' residence in Chicago was decidedly novel, and it had evidently brightened his wits—that is, increased his cunning without adding to his honesty. And as I think it will interest my reader to get a view of life from the actor's own standpoint, I will relate one of the many stories he told me during the years we worked together.
Upon Foster's release from his first term of imprisonment he joined the Christian Aid Society of London, and Mr. Whitely, the secretary, promptly "sent him to sea," as he has thousands of others. In due time he arrived in New York, but as he had heard much of Chicago he determined to go there. He arrived penniless, but within an hour ran against an old friend in the person of a former partner in the art of burglary who had been a fellow prisoner with him in London. This man's name was Turtle, and Mr. Whitely had only "sent him to sea" two brief years before. It was plain from his magnificent diamond ring, pin and big bank roll, freely displayed, that the seafaring life of the former protege of the London Prison Aid Society was a profitable occupation. He was delighted to meet Foster, and took him to a tailor's at once and fitted him out liberally, at the same time handing him $250, just for pocket money.When, on the next day, Foster stated to his friend that he was ready to undertake a burglary, Turtle was displeased, and said: "No; we are on the honest game, which pays better." What that was will appear. Turtle had a large private inquiry office, with two of the city detectives for side partners, who turned over to him all business in which there was a prospect of mutual profit. All imaginable schemes of villainy were concocted and executed there, and with perfect impunity, too. For Turtle had the ear of all the magistrates, and was in with all the gangs that made the City Hall of Chicago the worst and vilest den of robbers that encumbers this earth.
What cause the pessimist has for his boding views when in cities like New York, Quaker Philadelphia, Chicago and San Francisco, the City Halls, those centres of municipal life, hold and are ruled by the worst and most dangerous gangs of criminals sheltered by any roof in any city!
Alas! that the centre which should be the purest stream within the city should be a foul cesspool, sending out poisonous vapors to pollute the life of the citizens!
Universal suffrage in our great centres is a corrupt tree and its fruits must needs be poisonous.
Turtle gave his friend Foster a welcome at his office and at once enrolled him on his staff, but virtually made him a member of the firm. So, between the two Police Headquarters thieves and the two English ones, they had a combination indeed.
Many stories Foster told me during the years of our intercourse that were novel and strange, and gave me a view of the social world seldom seen. Here is a specimen:
One day a countryman appeared at Police Headquarters in Chicago and announced that he had been robbed of $20,000, and showed how his coat pocket had been cut open and the money taken. This, he explained, had been done in a crowd. It was a strange place for a man to carry solarge a sum, and, still stranger, the pocket was cut on the inside. Of course, a pickpocket in the rare event of cutting the pocket of an intended victim must of necessity cut the pocket from the outside. The countryman had fallen at Headquarters to the tender mercies of the two partners of Turtle. One glance at the pocket showed them there was a colored gentleman in the woodpile, and as there was $20,000 in the deal somewhere, they determined to have some share of it. They, of course, pretended to believe the story of the countryman, but for fear some of the other Headquarters men might hear and want a share, they hurried him away from the office over to the Sherman House; then one went to Turtle's office and posted him on the situation. The countryman was anxious to leave town, but on various pretenses they held him for two days, but as he stoutly affirmed that the lost money was his own they were puzzled to solve the mystery; but their knowledge of human nature was such that they felt certain that if they could only arrive at the bottom the old gentleman would not be quite as white as he pretended to be. He came from an obscure mountain town in East Tennessee, and while they fancied a trip there might solve matters they feared to lose their victim—- for victim these human tigers determined the countryman should be. The second day they resolved on decisive measures to get at the truth, and at the same time secure some plunder, provided the Tennesseean had any cash.
So far Turtle and Foster had not been seen by the victim. The detectives asked the countryman to remain one more night to see if they could not catch the men who had robbed him. That afternoon one of Turtle's staff secured a room at the same hotel, and, seizing an opportunity, slipped into the countryman's chamber and concealed some burglar tools under the mattress of his bed and in his carpet bag. This once done, they marched the "guy" along Clark street, and, as arranged, Turtle and one of his staff met them, andshaking hands with the two detectives asked if they were arresting their companion for a job. Upon their saying he was a wealthy gentleman from the South, Turtle burst out laughing, and said he knew him for an old-time burglar, and if they would search his house they would find stolen goods, and ended by saying, "Bring him down to my office and I will show you his picture." The detectives now changed their tones and threatened to arrest him. He having, as the sequel will show, a bad conscience, became frightened. Then they arrested him, and announced that they were going to search his room at the hotel. This they did, taking him along. Of course, they found what they had previously hidden, very much to the terror of the countryman, who, lashed by a bad conscience, began to think he was in a fix. The friends of the hour before now became threatening bullies, promising to get him ten years for the possession of burglar tools. They took him to Turtle's office, and there stripping him they found to their disappointment that he had no money, but found carefully folded up in an inner pocket a postoffice receipt for a registered letter sent from Nashville to St. Paul. They kept him a prisoner that night while Turtle left by the first train for St. Paul with the receipt in his pocket. The next morning found him in St. Paul, and a few minutes later he walked out of the office with the registered letter, which proved to be a bulky one. Tearing it open he found it full of United States bonds and greenbacks, amounting in all to $20,000. The next day all save $1,000, reserved for the victim, was divided among the four birds of prey. That day the victim was taken before a friendly magistrate and fully committed to await in jail the action of the Grand Jury. Twenty-four hours later a tool called on him at the jail, and gave him the option of taking $1,000 and getting out of town by the first train or getting ten years for the possession of burglar tools. The poor fool, with trembling eagerness, accepted the first partof the ultimatum, and within an hour a bail bond was filled up, and darkness found the baffled old man speeding westward, never again to look on his own people.
But how was he a baffled old man? He had embarked in a scheme of villainy, but had been beaten at his own game by sharper rascals. From whom did he steal the money? Read:
In a small Tennessee town there lived a widow whose husband had been killed in the Confederate army and who found herself, like so many more Southern ladies at the close of the war, impoverished, and with a family of children to be provided with bread. But it seems she was a brave body, and with a head for business. She opened a small hotel in Nashville, and by reason of her history, no less than her excellent hostelry, she thrived apace, and, investing all her savings in newly started industrial enterprises in Nashville, her small investments brought in large returns, which were reinvested, until at 40, finding herself mistress of a competency, she quit business and went to spend the remainder of her days where she was born. The hero of the adventure in Chicago was not only her neighbor, but had been the comrade of her husband through the deadly fights of the war. She naturally turned to him as a friend for advice. He first asked her to be his wife, and upon her refusal he began to urge her to dispose of all her interests in Nashville and reinvest her money in the nearby city of Knoxville. At last she consented, and sent him to Nashville with authority to act as her agent. He disposed of her property, except the old hotel. He was paid $20,000 on her account, and once with the money in his possession he determined to keep it. It was a cowardly deed, and dearly did he pay for it. He wrote her he was going to Chicago, and would take the money with him, as he would only remain for a day. To Chicago he came, and, as related, robbed himself, sending off the money in a registered letter to himself. Then he appeared at Police Headquarters with his cut pocket and clumsy story, which appeared in the next morning's paper. He sent a marked copy of the paper to the lady, and at the same time wrote a hypocritical letter stating that he was so heartbroken over losing her money that he did not have the courage to look her in the face, and never should until such time as he could repay the money. He said he was going to California to work, and when he had enough she would see him again, but not before.