The History and Romance of Crime 5

The History and Romance of Crime 5

At one town, Cambray, a dangerous delay occurred through the obstinacy

of the English sentry at the gate, who refused to call up the guardian

to pass them through during the night. He had received no orders to

that effect and was deaf to all entreaties, although they came from a

general officer.

 

From Valenciennes the carriage proceeded to Mons, and arrived there in

time to dine. La Valette then continued his journey towards Munich,

where he was most hospitably received by the Elector of Bavaria.

Sir Robert Wilson made the best of his way back to Paris by another

road, and arrived in the capital after an absence of no more than

sixty hours. Now misfortune came upon him, and the three generous and

disinterested friends fell into the hands of the police. One of the

innumerable spies on the lookout for La Valette came upon Sir Robert

Wilson’s carriage, covered with mud in the stable, and learned that

the general had just returned after a long journey to the North. The

general’s servant was found, and, being questioned, admitted that

the general had just been to Mons with an officer of the guards who

could not speak English. A watch was set on this servant, who was the

general’s messenger when communicating with the British Embassy. The

servant was suborned, and for a price promised to bring any letters

written by Sir Robert first to the Préfet of Police. One was addressed

to Earl Grey in London, and it contained a full and particular account

of the escape. On the strength of the evidence thus unfairly obtained,

the three Englishmen, Wilson, Hely-Hutchinson and Bruce, were arrested.

 

The English ambassador, Sir Charles Stuart, declined to interfere on

behalf of his compatriots. His answer was that these gentlemen had

broken the law by interfering with the course of French justice, and

they must abide by their acts. Accordingly, they were lodged in the

prison of La Force, and in due time brought to trial at the Assize

Court. Sir Robert Wilson appeared in the dock in the full uniform of

a general officer, his breast covered with decorations and orders,

for he had served with great distinction, and was especially favored

by the continental sovereigns, whose troops he had often led on the

field. Captain Hely-Hutchinson wore the uniform of an officer of the

British guards. Mr. Michael Bruce appeared as a private gentleman. All

admitted the truth of the charge, and it was not thought necessary to

advance proof, but Madame de La Valette (who had been detained six

weeks in prison) was brought into court and questioned. She evoked much

respectful sympathy, and was overcome with deep emotion at the sight

of her husband’s chivalrous preservers. “I have never seen any of them

before, but I shall never forget them and all that I owe to them so

long as I live,” was her cry.

 

When put upon their defence, the prisoners all boldly justified their

conduct. “The appeal made to our humanity and national generosity,”

declared Sir Robert Wilson, “was irresistible. We would have done as

much for the most obscure person in the same dread situation. Perhaps

we were imprudent, but we would rather incur that reproach than that

of having abandoned a man in sore straits, who threw himself into

our arms.” “Whatever respect I owe this tribunal,” added Mr. Bruce,

“I owe it also to myself to affirm that I do not feel the slightest

compunction for what I have done.” The judge summed up impartially,

but declared that the law must be vindicated, and a verdict of guilty

was returned, followed by the minimum sentence of three months’

imprisonment. The large verdict of public opinion was and still is

entirely in their favor. Even the outraged majesty of the French

law was soon soothed, for the Government repented of its vindictive

treatment of men, whose chief offence was loyalty to a fallen master,

and, although unhappily they could not bring the gallant Marshal

Ney to life, they pardoned La Valette and suffered him to return to

France. The hardest measure meted out to the two officers came from

their military superiors. The Duke of York, Commander-in-Chief of the

British army, forfeited their commissions with a scathing reprimand.

The infraction of discipline was soon condoned by the nobility of the

action, and ere long the offenders were reinstated in their commands.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER II

 

THE GREAT SEAPORT PRISONS

 

The _bagnes_, the survival of the old galleys at Brest,

Rochefort and Toulon--Character and condition of the

convicts--Day and night at the galleys--Forgery of official

documents and bank notes--Robberies cleverly effected

by expert thieves--Severe discipline enforced--The

_bastonnade_--Cruelties of the warders--Escapes very

frequent--Petit, a man impossible to hold--Hautdebont--The

_payole_ or letter-writer, a post of great profit--Usury at the

_bagne_--Wanglan an ex-banker does a large business in money

lending, and creates a paper currency--Some convicts always

in funds--Collet lives in clover--Sharp measures taken with

usurers.

 

 

Some attempt was made in 1810 to improve the French prison system,

and the _maisons centrales_, or district prisons, were instituted;

but no great progress was made with them. At that time the principal

punishment inflicted was labor in chains at the seaports in the

so-called _bagnes_ of Brest, Rochefort and Toulon, or the _travaux

forcés_, the survival of the old galleys, the population of which found

a permanent home ashore, when the warships ceased to be propelled by

human power. These _bagnes_ will now be described. The earlier records

have already been given in the volume immediately preceding.

 

The name _bagnes_, which was at one time in general use to express

these hard labor prisons, is derived from _bagnio_, the bath attached

to the Seraglio at Constantinople, which was the Turkish establishment

for galley slaves. The _bagnes_ were sometimes known as _prisons

mouillés_, or floating prisons, because the prisoners were for a long

time housed in hulks; but as their numbers increased, buildings were at

length erected on the shore, containing vast dormitories, each capable

of holding five or six hundred prisoners. The grand total at the

Naval Arsenal often exceeded several thousand men. The régime was not

exactly severe. The labor was easy, and consisted of little more than

rough jobs about the wharves, moving guns to and fro, storing shot and

shell, occasionally excavating for new buildings. As described by an

eye-witness, penal labor was a mere farce. “The bulk of the convicts,”

wrote the Director of Naval Arsenals, in 1838, “do no more than doze.

They may be seen, eight or ten of them, following a light cart, not

half laden, which they pull in turn, two and two. The hospital is full

of them as invalids or nurses. They are to be found in private houses

and hotels, engaged as private servants.” In earlier days things had

been much worse.

 

Under the Directory and under the First Empire many who possessed

private means were allowed to purchase improper privileges. A certain

old convict at Rochefort was allowed to go at large in the town, where

he was admitted into society and welcomed for his affable manners. He

went so far as to make overtures to the authorities to purchase his

release, by building and equipping a ship-of-war at his own expense. It

was said in those days that Napoleon I was willing to forgive crimes

at a price; that big robberies were sometimes condoned by a gift to

the State. One convict, Delage, sentenced for embezzlement, was a

man of large private fortune, which he was allowed to spend freely

in ameliorating his condition. He arrived at Rochefort in a carriage

and pair, escorted by two gensdarmes. He was located in a separate

room at the Hospital, which he furnished comfortably, and later his

wife and children joined him at the _bagnes_. He was in the habit of

leaving the prison every morning at gun-fire to spend the day with

his family, and return in the evening, on the excuse that he had a

situation in the port, and must sleep on board the ship. This man was

known as _le joli forçat_ on account of his good looks and pleasant

demeanor. Others of the same class were to be seen parading the town

in fashionable garb, bearing the badge of their real position only in

the basil, or ankle-iron, which all were obliged to wear. Criminals

with accomplishments or skill in trades could always find remunerative

employment. Private families found tutors for their children and music

or dancing masters in the _bagnes_, while all high officials might

employ convict coachmen, grooms and cooks.

 

For the rest, life was irksome. The progress of the ordinary prisoner

has been well described by Maurice Alhoy, who paid many visits of

inspection to the various _bagnes_. The journey to the coast was made

in the cellular carriage, which came into use in 1830, in substitution

for the abominable chain gang, by which the wretched _forçats_ marched

through France. The way was long, the coach moved at a foot pace,

there was no rest or ease on the road. On arrival the passengers,

broken with fatigue, were carried to the reception ward, identified,

examined, stripped of their clothes and dressed in the uniform of the

_bagne_,--a crimson blouse, yellow pantaloons and a coarse canvas

shirt. These clothes were covered with marks, the first syllable of

the word _galérien_, “GAL,” in black letters. A woollen cap of red

or green, according to the term of sentence, covered the head. When

dressed and passed fit for full labor (_grande fatigue_), the coupling

took place. For long years French _forçats_ were chained together in

pairs, and the merest chance decided upon the chain companionship. The

pair, thus indissolubly joined for a term of years, might begin as

perfect strangers to each other, having nothing in common, neither ways

nor tastes, not even language. The coupling was accomplished by first

riveting an iron ring above the ankle, to which one end of the chain

was attached, the other end being riveted to the ankle of his fellow.

The whole chain measured nine feet, half of it belonging of right to

each. But if each had different ideas and intentions, they naturally

pulled in opposite directions, the limit of difference being reached

at nine feet. Sometimes, as at the hour of mid-day rest, there was a

difference of opinion between the partners. One might wish to walk, the

other to be quiet; but the to and fro movement of the first dragging at

the chain would disturb the second, and then the matter could only be

settled by a fight or a compromise. To quarrel was to risk punishment,

so the usual course was for one to take out a pack of cards and cry:

“_Je te joue tes maillons_,” “I will play you for your half of the

chain.” The game would proceed calmly while the stake, the disputed

chain, lay coiled between the players; and in the end, according to

the issue, both would walk, or both would lie down to sleep. Often

enough one of a couple was quite indifferent as to the behavior of his

chain-companion. A case was known where a fight was started between

a _chaussette_, or convict, permitted to go about singly, and one of

a chain couple. In the course of the struggle the second and passive

member of the twins, who had watched it quite unconcernedly, was

dragged nearer to the edge of a deep ditch by his companion, into which

both were nearly precipitated. Had not the conflict ceased both would probably have been drowned.