The History and Romance of Crime 22

The History and Romance of Crime 22

In the workshops, as elsewhere, it was obvious that the prison rule

did not err on the side of severity. Every care was taken to assure

the moral and physical comfort of the prisoners. There were chaplains

of all persuasions, and intolerance was unknown. For Roman Catholics,

naturally the largest number, there were the regular services in the

_rond point_, with which a large associated chapel communicated.

There was a special chapel for Protestants, and a synagogue for Jews.

A well-stocked library, annually replenished, provided literature

of nearly every kind for all who cared to read. The books were

carefully selected, but included works of fiction, which are often

forbidden in the prisons of some countries. The only novels permitted

however at La Santé,--and the choice implies a high compliment to

English literature,--were translations of Dickens, Fenimore Cooper,

Bulwer-Lytton, Marryat and Scott, which were admitted confessedly on

account of their morality and purity of tone. These, it was said, were

the books in most constant demand.

 

The hospital arrangements at La Santé, which was long a central depot

for all male prisoners requiring prolonged treatment, were also

excellent of their kind. The wards were large and lofty, and were well

warmed by a clever contrivance, consisting of two concentric iron

cylinders, one within the other, between which hot water circulated,

while fresh external air was passed in at the base and diffused from

the centre and top after being warmed. The clothing of all prisoners

was good and sufficient, although custom had nicknamed the prison shirt

_la limace_ because it had all the rasping roughness of a file. As to

food, the inmates of La Santé certainly could not complain. The diet

of English prisoners of similar category may have been more varied,

but it was scarcely more replete. There were two regular meals at La

Santé, one about eight o’clock in the morning, the other at three.

Both consisted of a pint, or more exactly, two-thirds of a litre, of

thin soup, not unlike a poor Julienne, but tasty and carefully made

by officer cooks, who winked pleasantly when I praised it, and agreed

with me that it was _pas mauvais_, “not so bad,” after all. Twice a

week, on Sundays and Thursdays, four ounces of cooked meat, without

bone, were added, and on these days the prisoner got about twenty-seven

ounces of bread. When there was no meat the bread ration was nearly

thirty ounces. But the foregoing did not comprise all that the prisoner

had to eat. Those who were in funds, whether from private sources or

from the _pécule disponible_ already referred to, were permitted to

sweeten prison life and eke out prison fare by various articles of

food on sale at the canteen. The list was long, and the prices were

not extravagant. For a few centimes smoked herrings could be bought,

or a slice of cheese, fresh and salt butter, sausages, cooked ham,

liquorice, boiled potatoes and a fair allowance of red wine. Tobacco

unlimited could also be purchased, a privilege often peremptorily

forbidden elsewhere in many prisons, as are indeed all such toothsome

additions as those just enumerated.

 

But La Santé passed away, absorbed into the new and extensive

establishment at Fresnes on the outskirts of Paris, designed to remodel

the entire penal system of the French government. La Santé was a long

step forward in penology; and Fresnes, the next and a still longer

step, has now to be described.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER IX

 

TWO MODEL REFORMATORIES

 

Long survival of two ancient prisons, St. Pélagie and

Saint Lazare--Both now doomed--The former used for debtors

and political prisoners--Saint Lazare principal prison

for the female criminal--A detestable place--Originally a

convent--Warders are nuns--Piety of inmates--Prayer before

trial--Devout inscriptions--Convict marriages with brides from

Saint Lazare--Female criminality in proportion to male--Crimes

of passion and greed most numerous--Stealing in shops and large

stores--The better side of the female in custody--Maternal

affection--Universal love of children within the walls--The two

Roquettes--Alpha and Omega of crime--Juveniles in La Petite

Roquette--Reformed régime--Separate cells replace associated

rooms--First agricultural colony--Juvenile depravity largely

due to La Petite Roquette.

 

 

Among the prisons of Paris two long survived which were really a

standing disgrace to France. These were St. Pélagie and Saint Lazare.

They were types of a bygone age. Both were ancient edifices, centuries

old, planted in the very heart of crowded localities. They were

radically vicious in construction and very backward in the system of

discipline in force. In both, continuous association and unrestrained

intercourse were permitted among prisoners, so that contamination and

deterioration were the inevitable results.

 

St. Pélagie received only males--those sentenced correctionally to

terms of thirteen months and less, and with them were incarcerated

offenders against the adulteration laws, fraudulent bankrupts for small

sums, and traders who used short weights. All were herded together

indiscriminately, the only exception being made in favor of journalists

sentenced for contravention of press laws, all of whom came to it,

where they were subjected to a special and entirely different régime

from the ordinary prisoners.

 

St. Pélagie stood in a quiet and retired part of Paris behind the

Hôpital de la Pitié and the labyrinth of the Jardin des Plantes. It was

essentially a prison on the associated plan and found no favor in the

sight of French prison administrators who are warm adherents of the

principle of cellular separation.

 

Nothing much can be done with a building not originally intended

for the uses to which it is applied. It dates from the seventeenth

century, and the charity of a good lady, Marie Bonneau, widow of

Beauharnais de Miramion, who created it as a refuge for her unfortunate

sisterhood, and gave it as patron the dancer who turned saint,--with

whom Charles Kingsley made us acquainted in his novel of “Hypatia.” It

was also appropriated for debtors and later for political prisoners,

more especially those who offended by their too critical pens. A

block known as the “Pavilion” was given over to them exclusively,

to which no strangers were admitted; but these litterateurs might be

seen all over the prison at any time and beyond their own quarters,

commonly called “greater” or “lesser Siberia;” the “big” or “little

Tomb.” Their confinement was not irksome, and we are told that they

often obtained permission to leave the prison and visit the theatre

at night, even to sleep out, always on their solemn promise to return

honorably. The famous Proudhon was allowed to take an afternoon walk

unattended, beyond the walls. Some of the inmates amused themselves by

playing blind man’s buff in the dark passages, and once a mock trial

was organised at a sham revolutionary tribunal. By and by the play was

repeated in grim earnest. During the Commune there was another trial

within St. Pélagie, ordered by Raoul Rigault, the Communist Prefect of

Police, on a prisoner who was promptly sentenced to death and shot.

 

A good deal of work was done at St. Pélagie. Prisoners were very

industrious and produced good results. One form of trade was the

manufacture of paper lamp-shades. Another was that of chignons when

this particular style was in fashion. The raw material came from all

quarters; the hair merchants bought it from living heads and the

chiffoniers picked it up out of the streets. Possibly had the origin

of these adornments been better understood, ladies would have been a

little loath to wear them. St. Pélagie has now disappeared and cannot

be greatly regretted.

 

Saint Lazare was long the principal prison for females in Paris. Within

its vast _enceinte_, which includes gardens, fountains and trees, and

which is now doomed to early abolition, were collected women of all

categories,--those awaiting trial; those sentenced for short terms, and

those doomed to go beyond the seas; young girls, some of them quite

children, committed to prison at the instance of their parents, “for

correction;” and last of all, the unhappy, “_filles publiques_,” who

whether “_soumises_” or “_insoumises_,” whether officially inscribed

on the police rolls or independently practising their profession, have

offended against one or other of the stringent enactments by which the

fallen sisterhood are controlled in Paris. The various classes, it is

true, are kept as far as possible, even scrupulously apart; but all

are practically under one and the same roof and really do intermingle

rather freely. The system cannot but be demoralising in the extreme.

It is strongly condemned by all earnest, thoughtful Frenchmen, who

characterise Saint Lazare as a detestable place, which should forthwith

cease to be a prison. “Every young girl,” says Du Camp, “who enters

Saint Lazare for correction, leaves it corrupt and rotten to the

core.... She is lost unless a miracle intervenes, and the day of

miracles is past.” While such association continues, all efforts, and

they are many, to protect the still pure or win back the fallen to

virtuous ways, cannot but be made in vain.

 

[Illustration: _Hospice de la Salpêtriere, Paris_

 

Hospital or almshouse for helpless and insane women. Formerly it was

a house of detention as well as a hospital, and the treatment was

extremely brutal. As many as ten thousand persons have lived within the

walls at one time.]

 

Saint Lazare was originally a convent, and with its spacious interior,

great dormitories and wide refectories was well suited for a religious

house, but it was quite unfit to serve as a prison. The hideous herding

together of so many classes, of innocent and guilty, of the absolutely

bad and vicious with the young and still unspoilt, is a disgrace to

civilisation. Yet great attention is paid to discipline, and ghostly

ministrations abound at Lazare. Priests and chaplains there are many to

preach and confess; philanthropic ladies come from outside to exhort

and expound, and the whole establishment is under the watchful control

of a religious sisterhood, that of Marie Joseph, an order which has

continuously charged itself with prison labors, and whose devotion and

self-sacrifice are beyond all praise. A religious atmosphere prevails.

These poor women exhibit often a remarkable piety, very touching in

such a place. When a party of prisoners is on the point of starting

for the Palace of Justice, every woman expecting sentence kneels

before a sacred image and prays for mercy from her earthly judge. This

sentiment is further exhibited by the writings on the walls, which are

not strictly forbidden as in most gaols. One familiar with them has

collected some of the most striking, such as: “God is good, He will

have pity on the unfortunate.” “Holy Virgin, I give you my heart;

deign to take me under your protection and do not visit my early sins

too hardly upon me.” It has well been remarked that the moral effect

of Saint Lazare and its surroundings works wonderfully in aid of

conversion and reformation. The spectacle of the sisterhood, brought

there by a high sense of duty and not merely to earn a living, has

an excellent influence upon the fallen and misguided creatures who

are under their charge, to whom they devote their unstinting efforts.

Another note, that of hungry, unsatisfied affection, can also be read

in these inscriptions: “Whoever comes into this cell, your sufferings

will never be so acute as when you are separated from the person you

love;” again, “My love languishes in this cell, and far from thee whom

I adore I constantly groan and grieve.” Sometimes the very opposite

feeling finds voice: “Henriette loved her man more than any one, but

to-day she hates him.” “I am dying to see him, and if I find he is

unfaithful when I come out I will have his neck broken. It is through

him that I am here, but I love him all the same with all my heart.” “I

cannot forget my dead love which has lodged me here; when I am released

my lover may expect to meet me armed with a revolver.” Some are buoyed

up by inexhaustible hope: “This is the first day of my instruction

(interrogation); the judgment of God is everything, that of man

nothing.” “Let us endure our tribulations without murmuring; if they are undeserved our sins will expiate.”