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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebd9e2a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #56112 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56112) diff --git a/old/56112-8.txt b/old/56112-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c0e0a7f..0000000 --- a/old/56112-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6532 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Man Behind the Bars, by Winifred Louise Taylor - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Man Behind the Bars - -Author: Winifred Louise Taylor - -Release Date: December 3, 2017 [EBook #56112] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS *** - - - - -Produced by ellinora, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS - -BY - -WINIFRED LOUISE TAYLOR - -NEW YORK -CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS -1914 - -COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY - -CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS - -Published October, 1914 - -[Illustration: Logo] - - -TO - -MY PRISON FRIENDS - - - - -PREFACE - - -Lest any one may charge me with extravagant optimism in regard to -convicts, or may think that to me every goose is a swan, I wish to say -that I have written only of the men--among hundreds of convicts--who -have most interested me; men whom I have known thoroughly and who never -attempted to deceive me. Every writer's vision of life and of humanity -is inevitably colored by his own personality, and I have pictured these -men as I saw them; but I have also endeavored, in using so much from -their letters, to leave the reader free to form his own opinion. -Doubtless the key to my own position is the fact that I always studied -these prisoners as men; and I tried not to obscure my vision by looking -at them through their crimes. In recalling conversations I have not -depended upon memory alone, as much of what was said in our interviews -was written out while still fresh in my mind. - -I have no wish to see our prisons abolished; but thousands of -individuals and millions of dollars have been sacrificed to wrong -methods of punishment; and if we aim to reform our criminals we must -first reform our methods of dealing with them, from the police court to -the penitentiary. - -WINIFRED LOUISE TAYLOR. - -_August 6, 1914._ - - - - -THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -I have often been asked: "How did you come to be interested in prisoners -in the first place?" - -It all came about simply and naturally. I think it was W. F. Robertson -who first made clear to me the truth that what we put into life is of -far more importance than what we get out of it. Later I learned that -life is very generous in its returns for what we put into it. - -In a quiet hour one day it happened that I realized that my life was out -of balance; that more than my share of things worth having were coming -to me, and that I was not passing them on; nor did I see any channel for -the passing on just at hand. - -The one thing that occurred to me was to offer my services as teacher in -a Sunday-school. Now, I chanced to be a member of an Episcopal church -and their Sunday-school was held at an hour inconvenient for my -attendance; however, in our neighborhood was a Methodist church, and as -I had little regard for dividing lines among Christians I offered my -services the next Sunday to this Methodist Sunday-school. My preference -was for a class of young girls, but I was assigned as teacher to a class -of ten young men, of ages ranging between eighteen and twenty years, and -having the reputation of decided inclination toward the pomps and the -vanities so alluring to youth. - -It was the season of revival meetings, and within a month every member -of my class was vibrating under the wave of religious excitement, and -each one in turn announced his "conversion." I hardly knew how to handle -the situation, for I was still in my twenties, and as an Episcopalian I -had never experienced these storm periods of religious enthusiasm. So -while the recent converts were rejoicing in the newly found grace, I was -considering six months later when a reaction might set in. - -Toward the close of the revival one of the class said to me: "I don't -know what we're going to do with our evenings when the prayer-meetings -are over, for there's no place open every evening to the men in this -town except the saloons." - -"We must make a place where you boys can go," was my reply. - -What the class proceeded to do, then and there, was to form a club and -attractively furnish a large, cheerful room, to which each member had a -pass-key; and to start a small circulating library, at one stroke -meeting their own need and beginning to work outward for the good of the -community. - -The first contribution toward this movement was from a Unitarian friend. -Later, Doctor Robert Collyer--then preaching in Chicago--and Doctor E. -E. Hale, of Boston, each gave a lecture for the benefit of our infant -library. Thus from the start we were untrammelled by sectarianism, and -in three months a library was founded destined to become the nucleus of -a flourishing public library, now established in a beautiful Carnegie -building, and extending its beneficent influence throughout the homes, -the schools, and the workshops of the city. - -Of course I was immensely interested in the class, and in the success of -their library venture, and as we had no money to pay for the services -of a regular librarian the boys volunteered their services for two -evenings in the week, while I took charge on Saturday afternoons. This -library was the doorway through which I entered the prison life. - -One Saturday a little boy came into the library and handed me the -charming Quaker love story, "Dorothy Fox," saying: "This book was taken -out by a man who is in jail, and he wants you to send him another book." - -Now, I had passed that county jail almost every day for years; its rough -stone walls and narrow barred windows were so familiar that they no -longer made any impression upon me; but it had not occurred to me that -inside those walls were human beings whose thoughts were as my thoughts, -and who might like a good story, even a refined story, as much as I did, -and that a man should pay money that he had stolen for three months' -subscription to a library seemed to me most incongruous. - -It transpired that the prisoner was a Scotch boy of nineteen, who, being -out of work, had stolen thirty-five dollars; taking small amounts as he -needed them. According to the law of the State the penalty for stealing -any amount under the value of fifteen dollars was a sentence to the -county jail, for a period usually of sixty days; while the theft of -fifteen dollars or more was a penitentiary offence, and the sentence -never for less than one year. I quote the statement of the case of this -Scotch boy as it was given me by a man who happened to be in the library -and who knew all the circumstances. - -"The boy was arrested on the charge of having taken ten dollars--all -they could prove against him; and he would have got off with a jail -sentence, but the fool made a clean breast of the matter, and now he has -to lie in jail for six months till court is in session, and then he will -be sent to the penitentiary on his own confession." - -Two questions arose in my mind: Was it only "the fool" who had made a -clean breast of the case? And if the boy was to go to prison on his own -confession, was it not an outrage that he should be kept in jail for six -months awaiting the formalities of the next session of the circuit -court? I did not then think of the taxpayers, forced to support this boy -in idleness for six months. - -That night I did not sleep very well; the Scotch boy was on my mind, all -the more vividly because my only brother was of the same age, and then, -too, the words, "I was in prison and ye visited me not," repeated -themselves with insistent persistence until I was forced to meet the -question, "Did these words really mean anything for to-day and now?" - -Next morning I asked my father if any one would be allowed to talk with -a prisoner in our jail. My father said: "Yes, but what would you have to -say to a prisoner?" "I could at least ask him what books he would like -from the library," I replied. But I could not bring my courage to the -point of going to the jail; it seemed a most formidable venture. Sunday, -Monday, and Tuesday passed, and still I held back; on Wednesday I was -driving with my brother, and when very near the jail the spring of the -carriage broke, and my brother told me that I would have to fill in time -somewhere until the break was repaired. I realized that the moment for -decision had come; and with a wildly beating heart I took the decisive -step, little dreaming when I entered the door of that jail that I was -committing myself to prison for life. - -But we all take life one day, one hour, at a time; and five minutes -later when my hand was clasped through the grated door, and two big -gray eyes were looking straight into mine, I had forgotten everything -else in my interest in the boy. I asked him why he told that he had -taken thirty-five dollars when accused only of having taken ten, and he -simply said: "Because when I realized that I had become a thief I wanted -to become an honest man and I thought that was the place to begin." - -Had I known anything of the law and its processes I should doubtless -have said: "Well, there's nothing for you to do now but to brace up and -meet your fate. There's nothing I can do to help you out of this -trouble." But in my fortunate ignorance of obstacles I said: "I'll see -what I can do to help you." I had only one thought--to save that young -man from the penitentiary and give him a fresh start in life. - -I began with the person nearest at hand, the sheriff's wife, and she -secured the sheriff as my first adviser; then I went to the wife of the -prosecuting attorney for the State, and she won her husband over to my -cause. One after another the legal difficulties were overcome, and this -was the way the matter was settled: I secured a good situation for Willy -in case of his release; Willy gave the man from whom he had taken the -money a note for the full amount payable in ninety days--the note signed -by my father and another responsible citizen; the case was given a -rehearing on the original charge of ten dollars, and Willy's sentence -was ten days in the county jail; and this fortunate settlement of the -affair was celebrated with a treat of oranges and peanuts for Willy and -his fellow prisoners. A good part of that ten days Willy spent in -reading aloud to the other men. Immediately after release he went to -work and before the expiration of the ninety days the note for -thirty-five dollars was paid in full. Now, this was the sensible, fair, -and human way of righting a wrong. Nevertheless, we had all joined hands -in "compounding a felony." - -With Willy's release I supposed my acquaintance with the jail was at an -end, but the boy had become interested in his companions in misery and -on his first visit to me he said: "If you could know what your visits -were to me you would never give up going to the jail as long as you -live." And then I gave him my promise. "Be to others what you have been -to me," has been the message given to me by more than one of these men. - -While a prisoner Willy had made no complaint of the condition of things -in the jail, but after paying the note of his indebtedness, he proceeded -to buy straw and ticking for mattresses, which were made and sent up to -the jail for the other prisoners, while I furthered his efforts to make -the existence of those men more endurable by contributing various -"exterminators" calculated to reduce the number of superfluous -inhabitants in the cells. - -At the time I supposed that Willy was an exception, morally, to the -usual material from which criminals are made. I do not think so now, -after twenty-five years of friendships with criminals; of study of the -men themselves and of the conditions and circumstances which led to -their being imprisoned. - -Willy's was a kindly nature, responsive, yielding readily to surrounding -influences, not so much lacking in honesty as in the power of -resistance. Had he been subjected to the disgrace, the humiliation, and -the associations of a term in the penitentiary, where the first -requirement of the discipline is non-resistance, he might easily have -slipped into the ranks of the "habitual" criminal, from which it is so -difficult to find an exit. I am not sure that Willy was never dishonest -again; but I am sure of his purpose to be honest; and the last that I -knew of him, after several years of correspondence, he was doing well, -running a cigar-stand and small circulating library in a Western town. - -From that beginning I continued my visits to the jail, usually going on -Sunday mornings when other visitors were not admitted. And on Sunday -mornings when the church-bells were calling, the prisoners seemed to -be--doubtless were--in a mood different from that of the week-days. -There's no doubt of the mission of the church-bells, ringing clear above -the tumult of the world, greeting us on Sunday mornings from the cradle -to the grave. - -I did not hold any religious services. I did not venture to prescribe -until I had found out what was the matter. It was almost always books -that opened the new acquaintances, for through the library I was able to -supply the prisoners with entertaining reading. They made their own -selections from our printed lists, and I was surprised to find these -selections averaging favorably with the choice of books among good -citizens of the same grade of education. There certainly was some -incongruity between the broken head, all bandages, the ragged apparel, -and the literary taste of the man who asked me for "something by George -Eliot or Thackeray." - -A short story read aloud was always a pleasure to the men behind the -bars; more than once I have been able to form correct conclusions as to -the guilt or the innocence of a prisoner by the expression of his face -when I was reading something that touched the deeper springs of human -nature. And my sense of humor stood me in good stead with these men; for -there's no freemasonry like that of the spontaneous smile that springs -from the heart; and after we had once smiled together we were no longer -strangers. - -One early incident among my jail experiences left a vivid impression -with me. A boy of some thirteen summers, accused of stealing, was -detained in jail several weeks awaiting trial, with the prospect of the -reform school later. In appearance he was attractive, and his youth -appealed to one's sympathy. Believing that he ought to be given a better -chance for the future than our reform schools then offered, I tried to -induce the sheriff to ask some farmer to take him in hand. The sheriff -demurred, saying that no farmer would want the boy in his family, as he -was a liar and very profane, and consequently I dropped the subject. - -In the jail at the same time was a man of forty or over who frankly told -me that he had been a criminal and a tramp since boyhood, that he had -thrown away all chances in life and lost all self-respect forever. I -took him at his own valuation and he really seemed about as hopeless a -case as I have ever encountered. One lovely June evening when I went -into the corridor of the jail to leave a book, this old criminal called -me beside his cell for a few words. - -"Don't let that boy go to the reform school," he began earnestly. "The -reform school is the very hotbed of crime for a boy like that. Save him -if you can. Save him from a life like mine. Put him on a farm. Get him -into the country, away from temptation." - -"But the sheriff tells me he is such a liar and swears so that no decent -people would keep him," I replied. - -"I'll break him of swearing," said the man impetuously, "and I'll try to -break him of lying. Can't he see what _I_ am? Can't he _see_ what he'll -come to if he doesn't brace up? I'm a living argument--a living example -of the folly and degradation of stealing and lying. I can't ever be -anything but what I am now, but there's hope for that boy if some one -will only give him a chance, and I want you to help him." - -The force of his appeal was not to be resisted, and I agreed to follow -his lead in an effort to save his fellow prisoner from destruction. As I -stood there in the twilight beside this man reaching out from the wreck -and ruin of his own life to lend a hand in the rescue of this boy, if -only the "good people" would do their part, I hoped that Saint Peter and -the Recording Angel were looking down. And as I said good night--with a -hand-clasp--I felt that I had touched a human soul. - -The man kept his word, the boy gave up swearing and braced up generally, -and I kept my part of the agreement; but I do not know if our combined -efforts had a lasting effect on the young culprit. - -As time passed many of these men were sent from the jail to the State -penitentiary, and often a wife or family was left in destitution; and -the destitution of a prisoner's wife means not only poverty but -heart-break, disgrace, and despair. Never shall I forget the first time -I saw the parting of a wife from her husband the morning he was taken to -prison. A sensitive, high-strung, fragile creature she was; and going -out in the bitter cold of December, carrying a heavy boy of eighteen -months and followed by an older girl, she seemed the very embodiment of -desolation. I have been told by those who do not know the poor that they -do not feel as we do, that their sensibilities are blunted, their -imagination torpid. Could we but know! Could we but know, we should not -be so insensate to their sufferings. It is we who are dull. To that -prisoner's wife that morning life was one quivering torture, with -absolutely no escape from agonizing thoughts. Her "home" to which I went -that afternoon was a cabin in which there was one fire, but scant food, -and no stock of clothing; the woman was ignorant of charitable societies -and shrinking from the shame of exposing her needs as a convict's wife. - -It is not difficult to make things happen in small towns when people -know each other and live within easy distances. In less time, really -less actual time than it would have taken to write a paper for the -Woman's Club on "The Problems of Poverty," this prisoner's wife was -relieved from immediate want. To tell her story to half a dozen -acquaintances who had children and superfluous clothing, to secure a -certain monthly help from the city, was a simple matter; and in a few -months the woman was taking in sewing--and doing good work--for a -reliable class of patrons. - -I have not found the poor ungrateful; twenty years afterward this woman -came to me in prosperity from another town, where she had been a -successful dressmaker, to express once more her gratitude for the -friendship given in her time of need. Almost without exception with my -prisoners and with their families I have found gratitude and loyalty -unbounded. - -When the men sent from the jail to the penitentiary had no family they -naturally wrote to me. Sometimes they learned to write while in jail or -after they reached the prison just for the pleasure of interchanging -letters with some one. All prison correspondence is censored by some -official; and as my letters soon revealed my disinterested relation to -the prisoners, the warden, R. W. McClaughrey, now of national fame, sent -me an invitation to spend several days as his guest, and thus to become -acquainted with the institution. - -It was a great experience, an overwhelming experience when first I -realized the meaning of prison life. I seemed to be taken right into the -heart of it at once. The monstrous unnaturalness of it all appalled me. -The great gangs of creatures in stripes moving in the lock-step like -huge serpents were all so unhuman. Their dumb silence--for even the eyes -of a prisoner must be dumb--was oppressive as a nightmare. The hopeless -misery of the men there for life; already entombed, however long the -years might stretch out before them, and the wild entreaty in the eyes -of those dying in the hospital--for the eyes of the dying break all -bonds--these things haunted my dreams long afterward. Later I learned -that even in prison there are lights among the shadows, and that sunny -hearts may still have their gleams of sunshine breaking through the -darkness of their fate; but my first impression was one of unmitigated -gloom. When I expressed something of this to the warden his response -was: "Yes, every life here represents a tragedy--a tragedy if the man is -guilty, and scarcely less a tragedy if he is innocent." - -As the guest of the warden I remained at the penitentiary for several -days and received a most cordial standing invitation to the institution, -with the privilege of talking with any prisoner without the presence of -an officer. The unspeakable luxury to those men of a visit without the -presence of a guard! Some of the men with whom I talked had been in -prison for ten years or more with never a visitor from the living world -and only an occasional letter. - -My visits to the penitentiary were never oftener than twice a year, and -I usually limited the list of my interviews to twenty-five. With -whatever store of cheerfulness and vitality I began these interviews, by -the time I had entered into the lives of that number of convicts I was -so submerged in the prison atmosphere, and the demand upon my sympathy -had been so exhausting, that I could give no more for the time. I found -that the shortest and the surest way for me to release myself from the -prison influence was to hear fine stirring music after a visit to the -penitentiary. But for years I kept my list up to twenty-five, making new -acquaintances as the men whom I knew were released. Prisoners whom I did -not know would write me requesting interviews, and the men whom I knew -often asked me to see their cell-mates, and I had a touch-and-go -acquaintance with a number of prisoners not on my lists. - -Thus my circle gradually widened to include hundreds of convicts and -ex-convicts of all grades, from university men to men who could not -read; however, it was the men who had no friends who always held the -first claim on my sympathy; and as the years went on I came more and -more in contact with the "habitual criminals," the hopeless cases, the -left-over and forgotten men; some of them beyond the pale of interest -even of the ordinary chaplain--for there are chaplains and chaplains, as -well as convicts and convicts. - -I suppose it was the very desolation of these men that caused their -quick response to any evidence of human interest. In their eagerness to -grasp the friendship of any one who remembered that they were still -men--not convicts only--these prisoners would often frankly tell the -stories of their lives; admitting guilt without attempt at extenuation. -No doubt it was an immense relief to them to make a clean breast of -their past to one who could understand and make allowance. - -This was not always so; some men lied to me and simply passed out of my -remembrance; but I early learned to suspend judgment, and when I saw -that a man was lying through the instinct of self-defence, because he -did not trust me, I gave him a chance to "size me up," and reassure -himself as to my trustworthiness. "Why, I just couldn't go on lying to -you after I saw that you were ready to believe in me," was the candid -admission of one who never lied to me again. - -Among these convicts I encountered some unmistakable degenerates. The -most optimistic humanitarian cannot deny that in all classes of life we -find instances of moral degeneracy. This fact has been clearly -demonstrated by sons of some of our multimillionaires. And human nature -does not seem to be able to stand the strain of extreme poverty any -better than it stands the plethora caused by excessive riches. The true -degenerate, however, is usually the result of causes too complicated or -remote to be clearly traced. But throughout my long experience with -convicts I have known not more than a dozen who seemed to me -black-hearted, deliberate criminals; and among these, as it happened, -but one was of criminal parentage. Crime is not a disease; but there's -no doubt that disease often leads to crime. Of the defective, the -feeble-minded, the half-insane, and the epileptic there are too many in -every prison; one is too many; but they can be counted by the hundreds -in our aggregate of prisons. Often warm-hearted, often with strong -religious tendencies, they are deficient in judgment or in moral -backbone. The screw loose somewhere in the mental or physical make-up of -these men makes the tragedies, the practically hopeless tragedies of -their lives; though there may never have been one hour when they were -criminal through deliberate intention. Then there are those whose crimes -are simply the result of circumstances, and of circumstances not of -their own making. Others are prisoners unjustly convicted, innocent of -any crime; but every convict is classed as a criminal, as is inevitable; -and under the Bertillon method of identification his very person is -indissolubly connected with the criminal records. Even in this twentieth -century, in so many directions an age of marvellous progress, there is a -menacing tendency among legislators to enlarge the borders of life -sentences--_not_ according to the number of crimes a man may have -committed, but according to the number of times a man has been convicted -in courts notoriously indifferent to justice; too often according to -the number of times the man has been "the victim of our penal -machinery." - -I well remember a man three times sent from my own county to the -penitentiary for thefts committed during the brain disturbance preceding -epileptic convulsions. On one occasion, between arrest and conviction, I -saw the man in an unconscious state and in such violent convulsions that -it was necessary to bind him to the iron bedstead on which he lay. I -knew but little of physiological psychology then; and no one connected -the outbreaks of theft with the outbreaks of epilepsy. And the man, -industrious and honest when well, was in consequence of epileptic mental -disturbance convicted of crime and sent to the penitentiary, and owing -to previous convictions from the same cause was classed as an "habitual -criminal." - -Like instances of injustice resulting from ignorance are constantly -occurring. In our large cities where "railroading" men to prison is -purely a matter of business, no consideration is given to the individual -accused, he is no longer a human being, he is simply "a case." A very -able and successful prosecuting attorney--success estimated by the -number of "cases" convicted--once said to me: "I have nothing to do with -the innocence of the man: _I'm here to convict_." - -By far the most brutal man whom I have ever personally encountered was a -modern prototype of the English judge, Lord George Jeffreys--a judge in -one of our large cities, who had held in his unholy hands the fate of -many an accused person. However, with this one exception, in my -experience with judges I have found them courteous, fair-minded, and -glad to assist me when convinced that a convict had not been accorded -justice. - -We find in the prisons the same human nature as in the churches; far -differently developed and manifested; but not so different after all, as -we should expect, remembering the contrast between the home influence, -the education, environment, and opportunity of the inmates of our -prisons with that of the representatives of our churches. In our prisons -we find cowardice, brutality, dishonesty, and selfishness. Are our -church memberships altogether free from these defects? Surely, -unquestionably, in our churches we do find the highest virtues: love, -courage, fortitude, tenderness, faithfulness, unselfishness. And in -every prison in this land these same virtues--love, tenderness, courage, -fortitude, faithfulness, unselfishness--are to be found; often hidden in -the silence of the heart, but living sparks of the divine life which is -our birthright. And yet between these prisons and the churches there has -long existed an almost impassable barrier of distrust, equally strong on -both sides. - -I once called with a friend upon the wife of a convict who, relating an -incident in which she had received great kindness from a certain lady -very prominent in church circles, said: "I was so surprised: I could not -understand her being so kind--_for she was a Christian_." "Why, there's -nothing strange in the kindness of a Christian," said my friend. "Miss -Taylor and I are both Christians." The prisoner's wife paused a moment, -then said, with slow emphasis: "_That is impossible_." - -We all have our standards and ideals, not by which we live but by which -we judge one another. This woman knew the sweat-shops and she knew that -Christian as well as Jew lived in luxury from the profits derived from -the labor of the sweat-shops, and of the underpaid shop-girls. To her -the great city churches meant oppression and selfishness, power and -wealth, arrayed against poverty and weakness, against fair pay and fair -play. Her own actual personal experience with some persons classed as -Christians had been bitter and cruel; thus her vision was warped and her -judgment misled. Much of the same feeling had prevailed through the -prisons; and I know that one reason why so many of "the incorrigibles" -gave me their confidence was owing to the word passed round among them: -"You can trust her; _she is no Christian_." - -This has a strange sound to us. But it does not sound strange at all -when we hear from the other side: "You can't trust that man--he's been a -convict." - -Through the genius, the energy, the spiritual enthusiasm of that -remarkable woman known among prisoners as "The Little Mother," the -barrier between the churches and the prisons is recently and for the -time giving way on the one side. The chaplains are taken for granted as -part of the prison equipment, and their preaching on Sunday as the work -for which they are paid. But "The Little Mother" comes from the outside, -literally giving her life to secure a chance for ex-convicts in this -world. She brings to the prisons a fresh interpretation of the -Christian religion, as help for the helpless, as a friend to the -friendless. In her they find at once their ideal of human goodness and a -lovely womanhood, and through her they are beginning to understand what -the Christian churches intend to stand for. But to undermine the barrier -on the side of society--to bring about a better understanding of the -individuals confined behind the walls which society still believes -necessary in self-protection--is, in the very nature of the case, a far -more difficult undertaking. Almost inaccessible to the outsider is the -heart of a convict, or the criminal's point of view of life. In fact -their hearts and their points of view differ according to their natures -and experiences. But to think of our prisoners in the mass--the thousand -or two thousand men cut off from the world and immured in each of our -great penitentiaries--is to think of them as the Inarticulate. The -repression of their lives has been fearful. All that was required of -them was to be part of the machinery of the prison system; to work, to -obey, to maintain discipline. Absolutely nothing was done to develop the -individual. The mental and psychic influence of the prison has been -indescribably stifling and deadening. Every instinctive impulse of -movement, the glance of the eye, the smile of understanding, the stretch -of weary muscles, the turning of the head, all must be guarded or -repressed. The whole tendency of prison discipline has been to detach -the individual from his fellow man; at all costs to prevent -communication between convicts; and to stifle all expression of -individuality except between cell-mates when the day's work was over. -And companionship of cell-mates is likely to pall when the same two men -are confined in a seven-by-four cell for three hundred and sixty-five -evenings in a year. Gradually but inevitably the mind dulls; mental -impressions lose their clear outlines and the faculties become -atrophied. I have seen this happen over and over again. - -When first the drama of prison life began to unfold before me I looked -for some prisoner to tell the story; he only could know what it really -meant. But the desire to forget, to shake off all association, even the -very thought of having been connected with convict life, has been the -instinctive aim of the average man seeking reinstatement in society. -Occasionally a human document from the pen of an ex-convict appeared in -print, but few of them were convincing. The writer's own consciousness -of having been a convict may have prevented him from striking out from -the shoulder, from speaking as man to man, or something in the mind of -the reader may have discounted the value of the statement coming from an -ex-convict; more likely than either the spirit was so gone out of the -man before his release that he had no heart or courage to grapple with -the subject; and he, too, shared the popular belief that prisons are -necessary--for others. - -It was the poet and the artist in Oscar Wilde that made it -possible--perhaps inevitable--for him to rend the veil that hides the -convict prison execution, and to etch the horror in all its blackness--a -scaffold silhouetted against the sky--in "The Ballad of Reading Gaol." -The picture is a masterpiece, and it is the naked truth; more effective -with the general reader than his "De Profundis," which is no less -remarkable as literature but is more exclusively an analysis of Oscar -Wilde's own spiritual development during his prison experience. The -Russian writer Dostoyevski, also with pen dipped in the tears and blood -of actual experience, has given scenes of Russian convict life so -terrible and intense that the mind of the reader recoils with horror, -scoring one more black mark against Russia and thanking God that in our -dealings with convicts we are not as these other men. But not long ago a -cry from the inside penetrated the walls of a Western prison in "Con -Sordini," a poem of remarkable power, written by a young poet-musician -who, held by the clutches of the law, was suffering an injustice which a -Russian would be slow to indorse. No doubt other gifted spirits will -have their messages. But in the mind of the public, genius seemed to -lift these men out of the convict into the literary class, and their -most human documents were too likely to be regarded only as -literature.[1] - -Genius is rare in all classes of life and my prison friends were of the -common clay. The rank and file of our convicts are almost as -inarticulate as dumb, driven cattle, many of them incapable of tracing -the steps by which they fell into crime or of analyzing the effects of -imprisonment. Some of them have not learned how to handle words and -find difficulty in expressing thoughts or feelings; especially is this -true of the ignorant foreigners. - -One of the men whom I knew, not a foreigner, but absolutely illiterate, -early fell into criminal life, and before he was twenty years old was -serving a sentence of life imprisonment. After a period of unspeakable -loneliness and mental misery he was allowed attendance at the prison -evening school. He told me that he could not sleep for joy and -excitement when first he realized that through printed and written words -he could come into communication with other minds, find companionship, -gain information, and come in touch with the great free world on the -outside.[2] - -As I look back through my twenty-five years of prison friendship it is -like looking through a long portrait-gallery, only the faces are living -faces and the lips unite in the one message: "We, too, are human beings -of like nature with yourselves." To me, however, each face brings its -own special message, for each one in turn has been my teacher in the -book of life. And now for their sakes I am going to break the seal of my -prison friendships, and to let some of these convicts open their hearts -to the world as they have been opened to me, and to give their vision of -human life; to draw the picture as they have seen it. Some of them bear -the brand of murderer, others belong to the class which the law -denominated as "incorrigible." I believe I had the reputation of knowing -the very worst men in the prison, "the old-timers." It could not have -been true that my friends were among the worst men there, for my prison -friendships, like all friendships, were founded upon mutual confidence; -and never once did one of these men betray my trust. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Recent periodicals have given many disclosures convincing to the -public from men who know only too well the cruel and barbarous -conditions of convict life. I have long held that no judge should be -authorized to sentence a man to prison until the judge knew by -experience what prison life really was. And now we are having authentic -reports from those in authority who have taken a voluntary experience of -convict life. - -[2] In 1913 an _Intra-Mural School_ was started in the Maryland -penitentiary, and the story of its effect on the minds and the conduct -of the thirty per cent of illiterate individuals in that prison is most -interesting. It unquestionably confirms my statement that the rank and -file of our convicts are inarticulate. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Not only did the prisoners whom I knew never betray my confidence, but -ex-convicts who knew of me through others sometimes came to me for -advice or assistance in getting work; and many an odd job about our -place was well done by these men, who never gave us cause to regret our -confidence in them. A stranger fresh out of jail applied to me one cold -December day just before the holidays. I was in the high tide of -preparations for Christmas, and to this young man I gladly intrusted the -all-day work of trimming the house with holly and evergreen under my -direction, and never was it done more effectively or with more of the -Christmas spirit. The man had a beautiful time and confided to my mother -his longing to have a home of his own. He left us at evening with a -heart warmed by the vision of a real home, and his pay supplemented by a -good warm overcoat. These men used to make all sorts of frank admissions -to me in discussing their difficulties. I remember one man saying: - -"I want to be an honest man; I don't like this kind of a life with all -its risks; I want to settle down, but I never can get a start. Now, if I -could just make a clean steal of one hundred dollars I could get some -decent clothes, pay in advance at a respectable boarding-house; then I -could get a job and I could keep it; but no one will give me work as I -am, and no one will trust me for board." And that was the hard fact. As -the man was leaving he asked: - -"Could you give me one or two newspapers?" As I handed him the papers he -explained: "You see, if a fellow sleeps on the bottom of a freight-car -these cold nights--as I am likely to do--it's not quite so cold and hard -with a newspaper under you, and if I button them under my coat it isn't -quite so cold out-of-doors." It was no wonder that the man wanted to -settle down. - -Several incidents of honor among thieves are recorded in the annals of -our household. One evening as we were starting for our usual drive my -mother exclaimed: "Stop a minute! There is Katy's sweetheart, and I want -to speak to him." - -Katy was our cook and her sweetheart was a stout, blond working man -closely resembling the one walking up our front driveway. My mother -stopped the man and gave him this bit of information: - -"The house is all open and any one could go in and help himself. I wish -you would ask Katy to lock the front door." The man bowed, and we drove -on. - -When we returned Katy reported that a strange man had come to the -kitchen door and told her that the mistress wished her to lock the front -door. She left the man while she did this and found him waiting when she -came back. Then he asked her for something to eat, stating that he was -just out of prison, and wished to see Miss ---- (mentioning my name). -The cook gave him a lunch and made an appointment for me to see him next -day. - -Katy did not resent the man's being taken for her Joe, for she noticed -the resemblance, but there was reproach in her tone as she added: "But -you know Joe always dresses up when he comes to see me." - -At the appointed hour the man came again, bringing me a message from an -acquaintance, a fellow convict who had been his cell-mate in prison. He -did not refer to the fact that had he chosen he might have taken -advantage of the information received from my mother, but no better -plan for a robbery could have been devised than the circumstance that -fell ready to his hand. - -But of all the ex-convicts employed at various times on our place the -one in whom the family took the greatest interest was George--his other -name does not matter because it was changed so often. - -One Sunday morning I found George the only prisoner in our county jail. -He was a thief awaiting trial at the next term of court several weeks -ahead. He had "shifty" eyes and a sceptical smile, was thin, unkempt, -and altogether unprepossessing; but I did not think so much of that as -of his loneliness. He was reserved concerning himself but seemed to have -some education and a taste for reading, so I supplied him with books -from the library and called on him once or twice a week; but I made slow -progress with acquaintance, and one day George said to me: - -"I understand perfectly why it is that you come to see me and bring me -things to read; _you think that you will gain a higher place in heaven -when you die_." In other words, George thought that I was using him as a -stepping-stone for my own advantage--his sceptical smile was not for -nothing. - -How I disarmed his suspicions I do not know; but in the weeks that -followed before he was taken to prison we came to know each other very -well. The prison life was hard on George, so hard that when I first saw -him in the convict stripes I did not know him, so emaciated had he -become; and I was startled when his smile disclosed his identity. -Clearly he would be fit for no honest work when released from prison. He -made no complaint--he did not need to, for his appearance told the story -only too well. George was an insignificant-looking man, only one of the -hundreds consigned to that place of punishment, and by mere chance had -been given work far beyond his strength. When I called the warden's -attention to George he was immediately transferred to lighter work, and -was in better condition when I saw him next time. - -And then we had some long and serious talks about his way of life, which -he invariably defended on the score that he would rather be "a downright -honest thief" than to get possession of other people's property under -cover of the law, or to grind the poor in order to pile up more money -than any one could honestly possess. George _thought_ that he really -believed all business men ready to take any unfair advantage of others -so long as their own safety was not endangered. - -With the expiration of this term in prison George's letters to me ceased -for a while, to be resumed later from a prison in another State where he -was working in the greenhouses and had become interested in the flowers. -That gave me my chance. - -In a fortunate hour I had encountered a little story by Edward Everett -Hale, "How Mr. Frye Would Have Preached It," and that story had formed -my ideal of loyalty to my prisoners when once they trusted me, and by -this time I had won the confidence of George. Accordingly, I wrote -George a Christmas letter making a direct appeal to his better -nature--for I knew it was there--and I asked him to come to me on his -release the following July, which he was glad to do. - -Now, my mother had always been sympathetic with my interest in -prisoners, and she dearly loved her flower garden, and had difficulty in -finding intelligent help in the care of her flowers. She knew that -George was just out of prison, and after introducing him as a man who -might help her with her roses I left them together. - -A few minutes later my mother came to me and reported: - -"I don't like the looks of your George: he looks like a thief." - -"Yes," I answered, "you know he has been a thief, and if you don't want -him I'll try and get another place for him." - -But the flowers were pulling at my mother's heart and she decided to -give George a trial. And what a good time they both had that summer! It -was beautiful to see the two together morning after morning, caring for -those precious flowers as if they were babies. My mother had great -charm, and George was devoted to her and proved an altogether -satisfactory gardener. Unquestionably the two months that George spent -with us were the happiest of his life. My mother at once forgot all her -misgivings as to his honesty and came to regard him as her special ally; -she well knew that he would do anything in his power to serve her. - -One afternoon my mother informed me that she was going driving with the -family that evening--she was always nervous about "leaving the house -alone"--and that the maids were going to be out, too; "but George is -going to stay in charge of the house, so everything will be all right -and I shall not worry," she said with all confidence. - -I smiled; but I had no misgiving, and sure enough we all went off, not -even locking up the silver; while George, provided with newspapers and -cigars, was left in charge. - -On our return, some two hours later, I noticed that George was unusually -serious and silent, and apparently didn't see any joke in the situation, -as he had on a former occasion when I sent him for something in a closet -where the family silver was in full view. He told me afterward that the -time of our absence covered the longest two hours of his life, and the -hardest to bear. - -My home is on the edge of the town in the midst of twelve acres with -many trees. "You had not more than gone," said George, "when I began to -think 'what if some one should come to rob the house and I could not -defend it. And they could _never know_ that I had not betrayed their -trust.'" - -George spent his Sundays under our trees, sometimes on guard in the -orchard, which rather amused him; and I generally gave him an hour of my -time, suggesting lines of work by which he could honestly earn his -living, and trying my best to raise his moral standards. But he -reserved his right to plan the general course of his life, or, as he -would have said, to follow his own line of business. He knew that his -work with us was but for the time, and he would never commit himself as -to his future. This was the way he stated his position: - -"I have no health; I like a comfortable place to sleep and good things -to eat; I like a good class of entertainments and good books, and to buy -magazines and send them to my friends in prison, and I like to help a -man when he is just out of prison. Now, you ask me to forego all this; -to work hard just to earn the barest living--for I could never earn big -wages; you ask me to deny myself everything I care for just for the sake -of a moral idea, when nobody in the world but you cares whether I go to -the devil or not, and I don't really believe in either God or devil. -Now, how many churchgoing men do you know who would give up a -money-making business and accept the barest poverty and loneliness just -for the sake of a moral idea?" And I wondered how many, indeed. - -However, for all his arguments in defence of his way of life, when the -time came to leave us better desires had taken root. My mother's taking -his honesty for granted had its effect, and seemed to commit him to an -effort in the right direction. We had fitted him out with respectable -clothing and he had earned money to last several weeks. My mother gave -him a letter of recommendation as gardener and he left us to seek -employment in the parks of a large city. - -But his appearance was against him and he had no luck in the first city -where he applied; the time of the year, too, was unfavorable; and before -his money had quite melted away he invested the remainder in a peddler's -outfit of needles and other domestic requisites. These he sold among the -wives of farmers, and in that way managed to keep body and soul together -for a time. Frequent letters kept me informed of his whereabouts, though -little was said of his hardships. - -One morning George appeared at our door seeming more dulled and -depressed than I had ever seen him. He stayed for an hour or more but -was not very communicative. It was evident, however, that he had found -the paths of honesty quite as hard as the way of the transgressor. As he -was leaving he said: - -"You may not believe me, but I walked all night in order to have this -visit with you. I was off the railroad and couldn't otherwise make -connections with this place in time to keep an appointment with a friend -this evening; and I wanted to see you." - -He hurried away then without giving me time for the inevitable surmise -that the "friend" whom he was to meet was an "old pal," and leaving me -to question whether I had another friend on earth who would walk all -night in order to see me. - -Only once again did I see George; he was looking more prosperous then, -and handed me a ten-dollar bill, saying: "At last I can return the money -you lent me; I wanted to long ago but couldn't." - -I did not remember having lent him the money, and so I told him. "But I -want you to take it anyway," he said. - -And then, brought face to face with the thief in the man, I replied: - -"I cannot take from you money that is not honestly yours." - -Flushing deeply he slowly placed the bill among some others, saying: -"All right, but I wanted you to take it because I knew that you would -make better use of it than I shall." Never had the actual dividing line -between honesty and dishonesty been brought home to George as at that -moment; I think for once he realized that right and wrong are white and -black, not gray. - -For some years after I had occasional notes from George; I answered them -if an address was given, but his was then a roving life. Always at -Christmas came a letter from him with the season's greetings to each -member of the family, and usually containing a line to the effect that -he was "still in the old business." When my sister was married, on my -mother's golden wedding-day, among the notes of congratulation to the -bride of fifty years before and the bride of the day was one from -George; and through good or ill report George never lost his place in -the regard of my mother. - -His last letter was written from an Eastern Catholic hospital where he -had been ill. Convalescent he then was "helping the sisters," and he -hoped that they might give him employment when he was well. Helpful I -knew he would be, and loyal to those who trusted him. I wrote him at -once but received no reply; and the chances are, as I always like to -think, that the last days of George were apart from criminal -associations, and that the better elements in his nature were in the -ascendant when the end came. - -I believe George was the only one of my prisoners who even made a bluff -in defence of the kind of life he had followed; and in his heart he knew -that it was all wrong. I do not defend him, but I do not forget that the -demoralization of the man, his lack of moral grip, was the logical -product of the schools of crime, the jails, and prisons in which so much -of his youth was passed. Yes, the life of George stands as a moral -failure; and yet as long as flowers bloom in that garden where he and my -mother spent so many pleasant hours helping the roses to blossom more -generously, so long will friendly memories cluster around the name of -George, and he certainly did his part well in the one opportunity that -life seems to have offered him. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -During the last twenty-five years there has been a general tendency to -draw sharp hard-and-fast dividing lines between the "corrigible" and the -"incorrigible" criminal. It has been assumed that a man only once -convicted of a crime may yet be amenable to reform, but that a second or -third conviction--convictions, not necessarily crimes--is proof that a -man is "incorrigible," that the criminal dye is set and the man should -therefore be permanently removed from society. This really does appear a -most sensible arrangement as we look down upon the upper side of the -proposition; to those who look up to it from below the appearance is -altogether different. - -A distinguished professor in a law school has said: "If any person shall -be a third time convicted of _any crime, no matter of what nature_, he -should be imprisoned at hard labor for life." At a National Prison -Congress in 1886 another eminent professor thus indorsed this sentiment: -"I believe there is but one cure for this great and growing evil, and -this is the imprisonment for life of the criminal once pronounced -'incorrigible.'" Later the governor of my own State told me that he -would consider no petition for shortening the sentence of an "habitual -criminal." Any leniency of attitude was stigmatized as "rose-water -sentiment." And the heart of the community hardened itself against any -plea for the twice-convicted man. What fate he was consigned to was not -their affair so long as he was safely locked up. - -In our eagerness for self-protection at any cost we lose sight of the -fact that the criminal problem is one of conditions quite as much as of -"cases." In our large cities, the great reservoirs of crime, we are but -reaping the harvest of centuries of evil in older civilizations, and in -our own civilization as well. - -So far we have been dealing with effects more than with causes. Indeed, -our dealings with lawbreakers, from the hour of arrest to the hour of -discharge from prison have served to increase rather than to diminish -the causes of crime. True enough it is that thousands of our fellow men -have found life one great quicksand of criminal and prison experience in -which cause and effect became in time inextricably tangled. - -And it sometimes happens that the twice-convicted man is in no way -responsible for his first conviction, as happened to James Hopkins, a -good boy reared in a New England family to a belief in God and respect -for our courts. He was earning his living honestly when he was arrested -on suspicion in Chicago and convicted of a burglary of which he knew -nothing. He knew nothing either of the wiles of the courts and depended -on his innocence as his defence. But the burglary was a daring one; some -one must be punished, no other culprit was captured, so Hopkins was sent -to one of our schools of crime supported by public taxation under the -name of penitentiaries. Pure homesickness simply overpowered the boy at -first. "Night after night I cried myself to sleep," he told me. His cell -happened to be on the top row where there was a window across the -corridor, and summer evenings he could look across out into a field so -like the field at home where he had played as a child. But the darkness -of the winter evening shut out every glimpse of anything associated with -home. He had not written his mother; he could not disgrace her with a -letter from a convict son. She had warned him of the dangers of the -city, but she had never dreamed of what those dangers really were. She -firmly believed that the courts were for the protection of the innocent, -and would she believe that a court of justice had sent an innocent man -to prison? He lost all faith in God and his heart hardened. Branded as a -criminal, a criminal he resolved to be; and when I met him twenty years -later he had a genuine criminal record as a scientific safe-blower. - -In spite of his criminal career some of the roots of the good New -England stock from which he was descended cropped out. With me he was -the gentleman pure and simple, discussing courts and prisons in a manner -as impersonal as my own; and he was a man of intelligence and an -interesting talker. I had come in touch with Hopkins because I was at -the time planning the future of his young cell-mate and I wanted the -advice of the older man, as well as his assistance in preparing the -younger to meet the responsibilities and temptations of freedom; and a -better assistant I could not have had. Concerning his own future Hopkins -maintained discreet reserve and unbroken silence as to his inner life. -He had deliberately stifled a Puritan conscience; but I doubt if it was -completely silenced, for while the lines in his face indicated nothing -criminal nor dissipated it was the face of a man in whom hope and -ambition were forever dead, a face of unutterable sadness.[3] - -I am free to admit that when I glance over the newspaper reports of -brutal outrages and horrible crimes my sympathy swings over wholly to -the injured party; I, too, feel as if no measure could be too severe for -the perpetrator of the crime. That there are human beings whose -confinement is demanded by public safety I do not question, but modern -scientific study is leading us to the conclusion that back of abnormal -crimes are abnormal physiological conditions or abnormal race -tendencies. And the "habitual criminal" is _not_ so designated because -of the nature of his crimes but because of the number of his infractions -of the law. - -I might have concurred with the opinions of the learned professors were -it not that just when legislation in my own State was giving no quarter -to second and third offenders I was being led into the midst of this -submerged tenth of our prison population, and my loyalty to their cause -has been unswerving ever since. - -"Have any of your 'habituals' permanently reformed?" I am asked. - -They certainly have, more of them than even my optimism expected and -under circumstances when I have been amazed that their moral -determination did not break. In my preconceived opinion, the most -hopeless case I ever assisted surprised me by settling down, under -favorable environment, into an honest, self-supporting citizen; and we -may rest assured that he is guarding his boys from all knowledge of -criminal life. - -After I came to understand how all the odds were against the penniless -one, scarred and crippled by repeated crimes and punishments, it was not -his past nor his future that interested me so deeply as _what was left -of the man_. I suppose I was always in search of that something which we -call the soul. And I sometimes found it where I least looked for -it--among the very dregs of convict life. - -John Bryan stands out in clear relief in this connection. How well I -remember my first meeting with this man, who was then more than forty -years old, in broken health, serving a twenty-year sentence which he -could not possibly survive. He had no family, received no letters, was -utterly an outcast. Crime had been his "profession."[4] His face was not -brutal, but it was hard, guarded in expression and seamed with lines. -The facts of his existence he accepted apparently without remorse, -certainly without hope. This was life as he had made it, yes--but also -as he had found it. His friends had been men of his own kind, and, -judged by a standard of his own, he had respected them, trusted them, -and been loyal to them. I knew this well for I sought his acquaintance -hoping to obtain information supposed to be the missing link in a chain -of evidence upon which the fate of another man depended. I assured Bryan -that I would absolutely guard the safety of the man whose address I -wanted, but Bryan was uncompromising in his refusal to give it to me, -saying only: "Jenkins is a friend of mine. You can't induce me to give -him away. You may be sincere enough in your promises, but it's too -risky. I don't know you; but if I did you couldn't get this information -out of me." Knowing that "honor among thieves" is no fiction I respected -his attitude. - -However, something in the man interested me, and moved to break in upon -the loneliness and desolation of his life I offered to send him -magazines and to answer any letters he might write me. Doubtless he -suspected some ulterior motive on my part, for in the few letters that -we exchanged I made little headway in acquaintance nor was a second -interview more satisfactory. Bryan was courteous--my prisoners were -always courteous to me--but it was evident that I stood for nothing in -his world. One day he wrote me that he did not care to continue our -correspondence, and did not desire another interview. Regretting only -that I had failed to touch a responsive chord in his nature I did not -pursue the acquaintance further. - -Some time afterward, when in the prison hospital, I noticed the name -"John Bryan" over the door of one of the cells. Before I had time to -think John Bryan stood in the door with outstretched hand and a smile -of warmest welcome, saying: - -"I am so glad to see you. Do come in and have a visit with me." - -"But I thought you wanted never to see me again," I answered. - -"It wasn't _you_ I wanted to shut out. It was the thought of the whole -dreadful outside world that lets us suffer so in here, and you were a -part of that world." - -In a flash I understood the world of meaning in his words and during the -next hour, in this our last meeting, the seed of our friendship grew and -blossomed like the plants of the Orient under the hand of the magician. -It evidently had not dawned on him before that I, too, knew his world, -that I could understand his feeling about it. - -For two years he had been an invalid and his world had now narrowed to -the "idle room," the hospital yard, and the hospital; his associates -incapacitated, sick or dying convicts; his only occupation waiting for -death. But he was given ample opportunity to study the character and the -fate of these sick and dying comrades. He made no allusion to his own -fate but told me how day after day his heart had been wrung with pity, -with "the agony of compassion" for these others. - -He knew of instances where innocent men were imprisoned on outrageously -severe and unjust sentences, of men whose health was ruined and whose -lives were blighted at the hands of the State for some trifling -violation of the law; of cases where the sin of the culprit was white in -comparison with the sin of the State in evils inflicted in the name of -justice. He counted it a lighter sin to rob a man of a watch than to rob -a man of his manhood or his health. It was, indeed, in bitterness of -spirit that he regarded the courts and the churches which stood for -justice and religion, yet allowed these wrongs to multiply. His point of -View of the prison problem was quite the opposite of theirs. - -Now, as I could have matched his score with cases of injustice, as my -heart, too, had been wrung with pity, when he realized that I believed -him and felt with him the last barrier between us was melted. - -There were at that time few persons in my world who felt as I did on the -prison question, but in this heart suddenly opened to me I found many of -my own thoughts and feelings reflected, and we stood as friends on the -common ground of sympathy for suffering humanity. - -Another surprise was awaiting me when I changed the subject by asking -Bryan what he was reading. It seemed that his starving heart had been -seeking sympathy and companionship in books. He had turned first to the -Greek philosophers, and in their philosophy and stoicism he seemed to -have found some strength for endurance; but it was in the great -religious teachers, those lovers of the poor, those pitiers of the -oppressed, Jesus Christ and Buddha, that he had found what he was really -seeking. He had been reading Renan's "Jesus," also Farrar's "Life of -Christ," as well as the New Testament. - -"Buddha was great and good and so were some of the other religious -teachers," he said, "but Jesus Christ is better than all the rest." And -with that Friend of the friendless I left him. - -Strange indeed it seemed how the criminal life appeared to have fallen -from him as a garment, and yet in our prison administration this man -stood as the very type of the "incorrigible." What his course of action -would have been had Bryan been given his freedom I should not care to -predict. Physically he was absolutely incapable of supporting himself -honestly, and he might have agreed with another who said to me: "Any man -of self-respect would rather steal than beg." There are those to whom no -bread is quite so bitter as the bread of charity. But I am certain that -the John Bryan who revealed himself to me in that last interview was the -_real_ man, the man who was going forward, apparently without fear, to -meet the judgment of his Maker. - -A noted preacher once said to me: "Oh, give up this prison business. -It's too hard on you, too wearing and depressing." And I replied: "Not -all the preachers in the land could teach me spiritually what these -convicts are teaching me, or give me such faith in the ultimate destiny -of the human soul." Perhaps my experience has been exceptional, but it -was the older criminals, the men who had sowed their wild oats and come -to their senses, who most deepened my faith in human nature. - -I am glad to quote in this connection the words of an experienced warden -of a large Eastern penitentiary, who says: "I have yet to find a case -where I believe that crime has been taught by older criminals to younger -ones. I believe, on the contrary, that the usual advice of the old -criminal to the boys is: 'See what crime has brought me to, and when you -get out of here behave yourselves.'" - -My whole study of "old-timers" verifies this statement; moreover, I am -inclined to believe that in very many instances the criminal impulses -exhaust themselves shortly after the period of adolescence, when the -fever of antagonism to all restraint has run its course, so to say; and -I believe the time is coming when this branch of the subject will be -scientifically studied. - -It is greatly to be regretted that the juvenile courts, now so efficient -in rescuing the young offender from the criminal ranks, had not begun -their work before the second or third offence had blotted hope from the -future of so many of the younger men in our penitentiaries; for the -indeterminate sentence under the board of pardons has done little to -mitigate the fate of those whose criminal records show previous -convictions. - -Hitherto we have been dealing with crimes. But the time is at hand when -we shall deal with men.[5] - -FOOTNOTES: - -[3] We instinctively visualize "confirmed criminals" with faces -corresponding to their crimes. But our prejudices are often misleading. -I once handed to a group of prison commissioners the newspaper picture -of a crew of a leading Eastern university. The crew were in striped -suits and were assumed to be convicts, with the aid of a little -suggestion. It was interesting to see the confidence of the -commissioners as they pronounced one face after another "the regular -criminal type." The fact is that with one or two exceptions my -"habituals," properly clothed, might have passed as church members, some -of them even as theological students. - -[4] I seldom heard the terms "habitual" or "incorrigible" used by men of -his class, but the "professionals" seemed to have a certain standing -with each other. - -[5] For full discussion of this matter the reader is referred to -"Individualism in Punishment," by M. Salielles, one of the most valuable -contributions yet made to the study of penology. Also Sir James Barr's -"The Aim and Scope of Eugenics" demands the recognition of the -_individual_ in the criminal. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Alfred Allen was one of my early acquaintances among prisoners, having -had the good fortune to receive his sentence on a second conviction -before the habitual-criminal act was in force in Illinois. Our -introduction happened in this way: in one of my interviews with a young -confidence man, who did not hesitate to state that he had always been -studying how to sell the imitation for the genuine, to get something for -nothing, my attention was diverted by his suddenly branching off into a -description of his cell-mate. - -"Alfred is the queerest sort of a chap," the man began. "He's a -professional burglar, and the most innocent fellow I ever knew; always -reading history and political economy, and just wild to get into the -library to work. He hasn't a relative that he knows and never has a -visit nor a letter, and I wish you'd ask to see him." - -On this introduction I promised to interview Alfred Allen the next -evening. The warden allowed me the privilege of evening interviews with -prisoners, the time limited only by the hour when every man must be in -his cell for the night. - -It was an unprecedented event for Alfred to be called out to see a -visitor, and he greeted me with a broad smile and two outstretched -hands. With that first hand-clasp we were friends, for the door of that -starved and eager heart was thrown generously open and all his soul was -in his big dark eyes. I understood instantly what the other man meant by -calling Alfred "innocent," for a more direct and guileless nature I have -never known. The boy, for he was not yet twenty-one, had so many things -to say. The flood-gates were open at last. I remember his suddenly -pausing, then exclaiming: "Why, how strange this is! Ten minutes ago I'd -never seen you, and now I feel as if I'd known you all my life." - -In reply to my inquiries he rapidly sketched the main events in his -history. Of Welsh parentage he had learned to read before he was five -years old, when his mother died. While yet a child he lost his father, -and when ten years old, a homeless waif, morally and physically -starving, in the struggle for existence he was a bootblack, newsboy, and -sometimes thief. "To get something to eat, clothes to cover me, and a -place to sleep was my only thought; these things I must have. Often in -the day I looked for a place where the sun had warmed the sidewalk -beside barrels, and I'd go there to sleep at night." - -At last, when about thirteen years old, he found a friendly, helping -hand. A man whose boots he had blacked several times, who doubtless -sized up Alfred as to ability, took the boy to his house, fed him well, -and clothed him comfortably. Very anxiously did the older man, who must -have _felt_ Alfred's intrinsic honesty, unfold to the boy the secret of -his calling and the source from which he garnered the money spent for -the comfort of the street waif. And Alfred had small scruple in -consenting to aid his protector by wriggling his supple young body -through small apertures into buildings which he had no right to enter. -And so he was drifted into the lucrative business of store burglary.[6] -After the strain and stress and desperate scramble for existence of the -lonely child, one can imagine how easily he embraced this new vocation. -It was a kind of life, too, which had its fascination for his -adventurous spirit; it even enabled him to indulge in what was to him -the greatest of luxuries, the luxury of giving. His own hardships had -made him keenly sensitive to the suffering of others. But Alfred was not -of the stuff from which successful criminals are made, for at eighteen -he was in prison for the second time and was classed with the -incorrigible. - -It was during this last imprisonment that thought and study had -developed his dominant trait of generosity into a broader altruism. He -now realized that he could serve humanity better than by stealing money -to give away. He was studying the conditions of the working and of the -criminal classes, the needs of the side of society from which he was an -outgrowth. The starting-point of this change was an Englishman's report -of a visit to this country as "A place where each lived for the good of -all." (?) "When I read that," said Alfred, "I stopped and asked myself: -'Have I been living for the good of all?' And I saw how I had been an -enemy to society, and that I must start again in the opposite -direction." It was not the cruelty of social conditions which he accused -for his past. His good Welsh conscience came bravely forward and -convicted him of his own share in social wrong-doing. "Now that I'm -going to be a good man," Alfred continued, "I suppose I must be a -Christian"--reversing the usual order of "conversion"--"and so I've been -studying religion also lately. I've been hard at work trying to -understand the Trinity." Alfred did not undertake things by halves. - -I advised him not to bother with theology, but to content himself with -the clear and simple working principles of Christianity, which would -really count for something in his future battle with life. - -When we touched upon books I was surprised to find this boy perfectly at -home with his Thackeray and his Scott, and far more deeply read in -history and political economy than I. He said that he had always read, -as a newsboy at news-stands, at mission reading-rooms, wherever he could -lay his hands on a book. He talked fluently, picturesquely, with -absolute freedom from self-consciousness. - -In Alfred's physiognomy--his photograph lies before me--there was no -trace of the so-called criminal type; his face was distinctively that of -the student, the thinker, the enthusiast. His fate seemed such a cruel -waste of a piece of humanity of fine fibre, with a brain that would have -made a brilliant record in any university. But the moral and physical -deprivations from which his boyhood suffered had wrought havoc with his -health and undermined his constitution. - -This November interview resulted immediately in a correspondence, -limited on Alfred's side to the rule allowing convicts to write but one -letter a month. On my part, the letters were more frequent, and -magazines for the Sundays were regularly sent. Alfred was a novice in -correspondence, probably not having written fifty letters in his life. I -was surprised at the high average of his spelling and the uniform -excellency of his handwriting. In order to make the most of the allotted -one leaf of foolscap paper he left no margins and soon evolved a small, -upright writing, clear and almost as fine as magazine type. - -In using Alfred's letters I wish I might impart to others the power to -read between the lines that was given me through my acquaintance with -the writer. I could hear the ring in his voice and often divine the -thought greater than the word. But in letting him speak for himself he -will at least have the advantage of coming directly in contact with the -mind of the reader. The first extracts are taken from one of his -earliest letters. - - - "MY DEAR FRIEND: - - "On coming back to my cell the day after Christmas, I saw a letter, - a magazine and a book lying on my bed. I knew from the handwriting - that they came from you. After looking at my present and reading - the sunshiny letter I tried to eat my dinner. But there was a lump - in my throat that would not let me eat, and before I knew what was - up I was crying over my dear friend's remembrance. I was once at a - Mission Christmas tree where I received a box of candy. But yours - was my first individual gift. It is said that the three most - beautiful words in the English language are Mother, Home and - Heaven. I have never known any of them. My first remembrance is of - being in a room with the dead body of my mother. All my life it - seems as if everybody I knew belonged to some one; they had mother, - brother, sister, some one. But I belonged to no one, and I never - could repress the longing in my heart to belong to somebody. I have - my God, but a human heart cannot help longing for human as well as - divine sympathy." - - -In a similar vein in another letter he writes: - -"I've sometimes wondered if I should have been a different boy if -circumstances in my childhood had been better. I have seen little but -misery in life. In prison and out it has been my fate to belong to the -class that gets pushed to the wall. I have walked the streets of Chicago -to keep myself from freezing to death. I have slept on the ground with -the rain pouring down upon me. For two years I did not know what bed -was, while more than once I have only broken the fast of two or three -days through the kindness of a gambler or a thief. This was before I had -taken to criminal life as a business.... Still when I think it over I -don't see how I could have kept in that criminal life. I remember the -man who taught me burglary as a fine art told me I would never make a -good burglar because I was too quick to feel for others." - -Only once again did Alfred refer to the bitter experiences of his -childhood and that was in a conversation. He had many other things to -write about, and his mind was filled with the present and the future. -Four years of evenings in a cell in a prison with a good library give -one a chance to read and think, although an ill-lighted, non-ventilated -four-by-seven cell, after a day of exhausting work, is not conducive to -intellectual activity. The godsend this prison library was to Alfred is -evident through his letters. - -"All my life," he writes, "I have had a burning desire to study and -educate myself, and I do not believe that a day has passed when I have -not gone a little higher. Some time ago I determined to read a chapter -in the new testament every night, though I expected it would be tedious. -But behold! The first thing I knew I was so interested that I was -reading four or five chapters every night. The Chaplain gave me a -splendid speller and I'm going to study hard until I know every word in -it." - -Proof that Alfred was a genuine book-lover runs through many of his -letters. He tells me: - -"Much as I hate this place if I could be transferred to the library from -the shop I should be the happiest boy in the State. I'd be willing to -stay an additional year in the prison. Twice when they needed an extra -man in the library they sent me. It was a joy just to handle the books -and to read their titles and I felt as if they knew that I loved -them.... Thank you for the _Scribner Magazine_. But the leaves were -uncut. I want all the help and friendship you can spare me. I am glad to -have any magazine you are through with. But you must not buy new ones -just for me. The _Eclectic_ and _Harpers_ were most welcome. _Man versus -the State_ was a splendid article, also, _Education as a Factor in -Prison Reform_, and Prof. Ely on the Railroad Problem. The magazines you -send will do yoeman service they are passed on to every man my cell-mate -or I know."[7] - -Alfred was devoted to the writings of John Draper and devoured -everything within his reach on sociology, especially everything relating -to the labor problems. He had theories of his own on many lines of -public welfare, but no taint of anarchy or class hatred distorts his -ideals of justice for all. He always advocates constructive rather than -destructive measures. - -Occasionally Alfred refers to the poets. He enjoys Oliver Wendell -Holmes, and Lowell is an especial favorite; while delighting in the -"Biglow Papers," he quotes with appreciation from Lowell's more serious -poetry. The companionship of Thackeray, Dickens, and Scott brightened -and mellowed many dark, hard hours for Alfred. "Sir Walter Scott's -novels broke my taste for trashy stuff," he writes. Naturally, Victor -Hugo's "Les Miserables" absorbed and thrilled him. "Shall I ever forget -Jean Valjean, the galley slave; or Cosette? While reading the story I -thought such a character as the Bishop impossible. I was mistaken." Of -Charles Reade he says: "One cannot help loving Reade. He has such a -dashing, rollicking style. And then he hardly ever wrote except to -denounce some wrong or sham." Even in fiction his preference follows the -trend of his burning love and pity for the desolate and oppressed. How -he would have worshipped Tolstoi! - -Complaint or criticism of the hardships of convict life forms small part -of the thirty letters written me by Alfred while in prison. He takes -this stand: "I ought not to complain because I brought this punishment -upon myself." "I am almost glad if anyone does wrong to me because I -feel that it helps balance my account for the wrongs I have done -others." Shall we never escape from that terrible idea of the moral -necessity of expiation, even at the cost of another? - -Nevertheless, Alfred feels the hardships he endures and knows how to -present them. And he is not "speaking for the gallery" but to his one -friend when he writes: - -"Try to imagine yourself working all day on a stool, not allowed to -stand even when your work can be better done that way. If you hear a -noise you must not look up. You are within two feet of a companion but -you must not speak. You sit on your stool all day long and work. Nothing -but work. Outside my mind was a pleasure to me, in here it is a torture. -It seems as if the minutes were hours, the hours days, the days -centuries. A man in prison is supposed to be a machine. So long as he -does ten hours' work a day--don't smile, don't talk, don't look up from -his work, does work enough to suit the contractors and does it well and -obeys the long number of unwritten rules he is all right. The trouble -with the convicts is that they can't get it out of their heads that they -are human beings and not machines. The present system may be good -statesmanship. It is bad Christianity. But I doubt if it is good -statesmanship to maintain a system that makes so many men kill -themselves, go crazy, or if they do get out of the Shadow alive go out -hating the State and their fellowmen. As a convict said to me, 'It's -funny that in this age of enlightenment they have not found out that to -brutalize a man will never reform him. I have not been led to reform by -prison life. It has made me more bitter at times than I thought I ever -could be. One cannot live in a prison without seeing and hearing things -to make one's blood boil....' - -"Times come to me here when it seems as if I could not stand the strain -any longer. Then again, even in this horrid old shop I have some very -happy times, thinking of your friendship and building castles in the -air. My favorite air castle is built on the hope that when my time is -out I can get into a printing office and in time work up to be an -editor. And perhaps do a little something to help the poor and to aid -the cause of progress. Shall I succeed in my dream? Do we ever realize -our ideals?" - - - "I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought - Till the cold stone warmed to his ardent heart; - Or if ever a painter with light and shade - The dream of his inmost heart portrayed." - - -"I did have doubts as to whether Spring was really here till the violets -came in your letter. Now I am no longer an unbeliever. I am afraid that -I love all beautiful things too much for my own comfort. If a convict -cares for beauty that sensitiveness can only give him pain while in -prison. I love music and at times I have feelings that it seems to me -can only be expressed through music; and I hope I shall be able to take -piano lessons some time." - -I discovered later that there was a strain of the old Welsh minstrel in -Alfred's blood, but small prospect there was at that time of his ever -realizing the hope of studying music. For all this while the boy was -steadily breaking down under the strain of convict life, the "nothing -but work" on a stool for ten hours a day on the shoe contract. Physical -exhaustion was evident in the handwriting of the shorter letters in -which he tells me of nature's revolt against the prison diet, and how -night after night he "dreams of things to eat." "I sometimes believe I -am really starving to death," he writes. But the trouble was not so much -the prison food as that the boy was ill. - -I went to see him at about this time and was startled by the gaunt and -famished face, the appeal of the hungry eyes that looked into mine. I -felt as if starvation had thrust its fangs into my own body, and all -through the night, whether dreaming or awake, that horror held me. -Fortunately: for well I knew there would be no rest for me until forces -were set in motion to bring about a change for the better in Alfred. - -In the general routine of prison life, if the prison doctor pronounces a -convict able to work the convict must either work or be punished until -he consents to work; or----? In the case of Alfred or in any case I -should not presume to assign individual responsibility, but as soon as -the case was laid before the warden Alfred was given change of work and -put on special diet with most favorable results as to health. - -Alfred's imprisonment lasted about two years after I first met him, this -break in health occurring in the second year. As the day of release drew -near his hopes flamed high, breaking into words in his last letter. - -"Next month I shall be a free man! Think of it! A free man. Free to do -everything that is right, free to walk where I please on God's green -earth, free to breathe the pure air, and _to help the cause of social -progress_ instead of retarding it as I have done." - -Now, I had in Chicago a Heaven-sent friend whose heart and hand were -always open to the needs of my prisoners, indeed to the needs of all -humanity. This friend was a Welsh preacher. He called upon me in Chicago -one November afternoon when I had just returned from a visit to the -penitentiary. I was tingling with interest in the Welsh prisoner whom I -had met for the first time the evening before. Sure of my listener's -sympathy I gave myself free rein in relating the impression that Alfred -made upon me. I felt as if I had clasped the hand of Providence -itself--and had I not?--when my friend said: - -"Your Welsh boy is a fellow countryman of mine. If you will send him to -me when released I think I can open a way for him." This prospect of a -good start in freedom was invaluable to Alfred, giving courage for -endurance and a moral incentive for the rest of his prison term. - -Every man when released from prison in my State is given a return ticket -to the place from which he was sent, ten dollars in cash, and a suit of -clothing. These suits are convict-made, and while not distinctive to the -ordinary observer, they are instantly recognizable to the police all -over the State. Half-worn suits I had no difficulty in obtaining through -my own circle of friends. So when Alfred's day of freedom came a good -outfit of business clothing was awaiting him and before evening no -outward trace of his convict experience remained. - -According to previous arrangement Alfred went directly to the Welsh -preacher. This minister was more than true to his promise, for he -entertained the boy at his own home over night, then sent him up to a -small school settlement in an adjoining State where employment and a -home for the winter had been secured, the employer knowing Alfred's -story. - -And there for the first time in his life Alfred had some of the right -good times that seem the natural birthright of youth in America. Here is -his own account: - -"I had a splendid time Thanksgiving. All the valley assembled in the -little chapel, every one bringing baskets of things to eat. There were -chickens, geese and the never-forgotten turkey, pies of every variety of -good things known to mortal man. In the evening we boys and girls filled -two sleighs full of ourselves and went for a sleigh-ride. You could have -heard our laughing and singing two miles off. We came back to the school -house where apples, nuts, and candy were passed round, and bed time -that night was twelve o'clock." - -It was not the good times that counted so much to Alfred as the chance -for education. He began school at once, and outside of school hours he -worked hard, not only for his board but picking up odd jobs in the -neighborhood by which he could earn money for personal expenses. He -carried in his vest pocket lists of words to be memorized while working, -and still wished "that one did not have to sleep but could study all -night." The moral influences were all healthful as could be. The people -among whom he lived were industrious, intelligent, and high-minded. -Among his studies that winter was a course in Shakespeare, and the whole -mental atmosphere was most stimulating. Within a few months a chance to -work in a printing-office was eagerly accepted and it really seemed as -if some of his dreams might come true. But while the waves on the -surface of life were sparkling, beneath was the perilous undertow of -disease. Symptoms of tuberculosis appeared, work in the printing-office -had to be abandoned after a few weeks, and Alfred's doctor advised him -to work his way toward the South before cold weather set in; as another -severe Northern winter would probably be fatal. After consultation with -his friends this course was decided upon; and, confident in the faith -that he could surely find transient work with farmers along the line, he -fared forth toward the South, little dreaming of the test of moral fibre -and good resolutions that lay before him. The child had sought refuge -from destitution in criminal life from which his soul had early -revolted; but the man was now to encounter the desperate struggle of -manhood for a foothold in honest living. - -For the first month all went fairly well, then began hard luck both in -small towns and the farming country. - -"The farmers have suffered two bad seasons; there seems to be no money, -and there's hardly a farm unmortgaged," he wrote me, and then: "When I -had used the last penny of my earnings I went without food for one day, -when hunger getting the best of me, I sold some of my things. After that -I got a weeks work and was two dollars ahead. I aimed for St. Louis, one -hundred miles away and walked the whole distance. What a walk it was! I -never passed a town without trying for work. The poverty through there -is amazing. I stuck to my determination not to beg. I must confess that -I never had greater temptation to go back to my old life; and I think if -I can conquer temptation as I did that day when I was _so_ hungry I need -have no fears for the future. - -"I reached St. Louis with five cents in my pocket. For three days I -walked the streets of the City trying to get work but without success. I -scanned the papers for advertisements of men wanted, but for every place -there were countless applicants. My heart hurt me as I walked the -streets to see men and women suffering for the bare necessaries of -existence. The third night I slept on the stone steps of a Baptist -Church. Then I answered an advertisement for an extra gang of men to be -shipped out to work on railroad construction somewhere in Arkansas. A -curious crew it was all through; half the men were tramps who had no -intention of working, several were well-dressed men who could find -nothing else to do, some were railroad men who had worked at nothing -else. When one of the brakesmen found where we were bound for he said, -'That place! You'll all be in the hospital or dead, in two months.' - -"The second evening we stopped at the little town where we now are. The -work is terrible, owing to the swamps and heat. Out of the twenty five -who started only eight are left. Yesterday I fainted overcome by the -heat, but if it kills me I shall stick to the work until I find -something better." - -The work did not kill Alfred, but malarial fever soon turned the -workmen's quarters into a sort of camp hospital where Alfred, while -unable to work, developed a talent for nursing those who were helpless. -His letters at this time were filled with accounts of sickness and the -needs of the sick. He had never asked me for money; it seemed to be -almost a point of honor among my prison friends _not_ to ask me for -money; but "if you could send me something to get lemons for some of the -boys who haven't a cent" was his one appeal; to which I gladly -responded. - -Better days were on the way, however. Cooler weather was at hand, and -during the winter Alfred found in a lumber mill regular employment, -interrupted occasionally by brief illnesses. On the whole, the next year -was one of prosperity. Life had resolved itself into the simple problem -of personal independence, and with a right good will Alfred took hold -of the proposition, determined to make himself valuable to his employer. -That he accomplished this I have evidence in a note of unqualified -recommendation from his employer. - -When the family with whom he had boarded for a year were about to leave -town he was offered the chance to buy their small cottage for two -hundred and fifty dollars, on monthly payments; and by securing a man -and his wife as tenants he was able to do this. - -"At last, I am in my own house," he writes me. "I went out on the piazza -to-day and looked over the valley with a feeling of pride that I was -under my own roof. I have reserved the pleasant front room for myself, -and I have spent three evenings putting up shelves and ornamenting them -and trying to make the room look pretty. I shall get some nice mouldings -down at the mill to make frames for the pictures you sent me. And I'm -going to have a little garden and raise some vegetables." - -But the agreeable sense of ownership of a home and pleasure in the -formation of social relations were invaded by haunting memories of the -past. The brighter possibilities opened to his fancy seemed but to -emphasize his sense of isolation. Outward conditions could not alter his -own personality or obliterate his experiences. It was a dark hour in -which he wrote: - -"How wretched it all is, this tangled web of my life with its suffering, -its sin and its retribution. It is with me still. I can see myself now -standing inside the door of my prison cell, looking up to the little -loop-hole of a window across the corridor, trying to catch a glimpse of -the blue heavens or of a star, longing for pure air and sunshine, -longing for freedom.... - -"Strong as is my love for woman, much as I long for someone to share my -life, I don't see how I can ever ask any woman to take into her life -half of that blackened and crime-stained page of my past. I must try to -find happiness in helping others." - -But nature was too much for Alfred. Not many months later he tells me -that he is going to be married and that his sweetheart, a young widow, -"is kind and motherly. When I told her all of my past she said, 'And so -you were afraid I would think the less of you? Not a bit. It only hurts -me to think of all you have been through.'" - -The happy letters following this marriage give evidence that the tie of -affection was strong between the two. Here we have a glimpse of the -early married days: - -"I have been making new steps to our house, putting fancy wood work on -the porch and preparing to paint both the inside and the outside of the -house next month."--Alfred was night-watch at the lumber mill.--"It is -four o'clock in the afternoon; I am writing by an open window where I -can look out and see my wife's flowers in the garden. I can look across -the valley to the ridge of trees beyond, while the breeze comes in -bringing the scent of the pines. Out in the kitchen I can hear my wife -singing as she makes some cake for our supper. But my old ambition to -own a printing office has not left me. I am still looking forward to -that." - -Just here I should like to say: "And they lived happy ever after." But -life is not a fairy-story; to many it seems but a crucible through which -the soul is passed. But the vicissitudes that followed in Alfred's few -remaining years were those of the common lot. In almost every letter -there were indications of failing health, causing frequent loss of time -in work. Three years after his marriage, in the joy of fatherhood, -Alfred writes me of the baby, of his cunning ways and general dearness; -and of what he did when arrayed in some little things I had sent him. -Then, when the child was a year old came an anxious letter telling of -Baby Alfred's illness, and then: - - - "MY DEAR FRIEND: - - "My baby is dead. He died last night. - - "ALFRED." - - -This tearing of the heart-strings was a new kind of suffering, more -acute than any caused by personal hardship. Wrapped in grief he writes -me: "To think of those words, 'My baby's grave.' I knew I loved him -dearly, but how dearly I did not know until he was taken away. It isn't -the same world since he died. Poor little dear! The day after he was -taken sick he looked up in my face and crowed to me and clapped his -little hands and called me 'da-da,' for the last time. Oh! my God! how -it hurts me. It seems at times as though my heart must break.... - -"Since the baby died night watching at the lumber mill has become -torture to me. In the long hours of the night my baby's face comes -before me with such vividness that it is anguish to think of it." - -The end of it all was not far off; from the long illness that followed -Alfred did not recover, though working when able to stand; the wife, -too, had an illness, and the need of earnings was imperative. Alfred -writes despairingly of his unfulfilled dreams, and adds: "I seem to have -succeeded only in reforming myself," but even in the last pencilled -scrawl he still clings to the hope of being able to work again. - -I can think of Alfred only as a good soldier through the battle of life. -As a child, fighting desperately for mere existence, defeated morally -for a brief period by defective social conditions; later depleted -physically through the inhumanity of the prison-contract system; then -drawing one long breath of happiness and freedom through the kindness of -the Welsh preacher; but only to plunge into battle with adverse economic -conditions; and all this time striving constantly against the most -relentless of foes, the disease which finally overcame him. His was, -indeed, a valiant spirit. - -Of those who may study this picture of Alfred's life will it be the -"habitual criminals" who will claim the likeness as their own, or will -the home-making, tender-hearted men and women feel the thrill of -kinship? - -Truly Alfred was one with all loving hearts who are striving upward, -whether in prison or in palace. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[6] Alfred never entered private houses. - -[7] Mrs. Burnett's charming little story, "Editha's Burglar," went the -rounds among the burglars in the prison till it was worn to shreds. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -An habitual criminal of the pronounced type was my friend Dick Mallory. -I have no remembrance of our first meeting, but he must have been thirty -years old at the time, was in the penitentiary for the third time, and -serving a fourteen-year sentence. Early in our acquaintance I asked him -to write for me a detailed account of his childhood and boyhood, the -environment and influences which had made him what he was, and also his -impression of the various reformatories and minor penal institutions of -which he had been an inmate. This he was allowed to do by special -permission, and the warden of the penitentiary gave his indorsement as -to the general reliability of his statements. The following brief sketch -of his youth is summarized from his own accounts. - -One cannot hold Dick Mallory as a victim of social conditions, neither -was he of criminal parentage. One of his grandfathers was a farmer, the -other a mechanic. His father was a working-man, his mother a -big-hearted woman, thoroughly kindly and to the last devoted to her son. -There must have been some constitutional lack of moral fibre in Dick, -who was the same wayward, unmanageable boy known to heart-broken mothers -in all classes of life. Impulsive, generous, with an overflowing -sociability of disposition, he won his way with convicts and guards in -the different penal institutions included in his varied experience. I -hate to put it into words, but Dick was undeniably a thief; and his -career as a thief began very early. When seven years of age he was sent -to a parish school, and there, he tells me, "A tough set of boys they -were, including myself. There I received my first lessons in stealing. -We would go through all the alley ways on our way to and from school, -and break into sheds and steal anything we could sell for a few cents, -using the money to get into cheap theatres." - -This early lawlessness led to more serious misdemeanors until the boy at -thirteen was sent to the reform school. This reform-school -experience--in the late seventies--afforded the best possible culture -for all the evil in his nature. This reform school was openly designated -a "hotbed of crime" for the State. Inevitably Dick left it a worse boy -than at his entrance. Another delinquency soon followed, for which he -was sent to jail for a month, the mother hoping that this would "teach -him a lesson." "It did. _But oh, what a lesson._ Oh! but it was a hard -place for a boy! There were from three to seven in each cell, some of -them boys younger than I, some hardened criminals. We were herded -together in idleness, learning only lessons in crime. In less than six -months I was there a second time. Then mother moved into another -neighborhood, but alas, for the change. That same locality has turned -out more thieves than any other portion of Chicago, that sin-begrimed -city. From the time I became acquainted in that neighborhood I was a -confirmed thief, and a constant object of suspicion to the police. - -"One evening I was arrested on general principles, taken into the police -station and paraded before the whole squad of the police, the captain -saying, 'This is the notorious Dick Mallory, take a good look at him, -and bring him in night or day, wherever you may find him.'" This -completed his enmity to law and order. - -Soon after followed an experience in the house of correction of which he -says: "This was my first time there and a miserable time it was. Sodom -and Gomorrah in their palmiest days could not hold a candle to it. You -know that by this time I was no spring chicken, but the place actually -made me sick; it was literally swarming with vermin, the men half -starved and half clad." This workhouse experience was repeated several -times and was regarded afterward as the lowest depth of moral -degradation of his whole career. "I did not try to obtain work in these -intervals of liberty, because I was arrested every time I was met by a -policeman who had seen me before." - -Thoroughly demoralized Dick Mallory sought the saloons, at first for the -sake of sociability, then for the stimulant which gave temporary zest to -life, until the habit of drinking was confirmed and led to more serious -crimes. - -Perhaps neither our modern juvenile courts nor our improved methods in -reform school and house of correction would have materially altered the -course of Dick Mallory's life, although a thorough course of manual -training might have turned his destructive tendencies into constructive -forces and the right teaching might have instilled into him some -principles of good citizenship. Be that as it may, the fact remained -that before this boy had reached his majority his imprisonment had -become a social necessity; he had become the very type against whom our -most severe legislation has been directed. - -But this was not the Dick Mallory whom I came to know so well ten years -later, and who was for two years or more my guide and director in some -of the best work I ever accomplished for prisoners. Strange to say, this -man, utterly irresponsible and lawless as he had heretofore been, was a -model prisoner. He fell into line at once, learned his trade on the shoe -contract rapidly, became an expert workman, earning something like sixty -dollars a year by extra work. He was cheerful, sensible, level-headed; -and settled down to convict life with the determination to make the best -of it, and the most of the opportunity to read and study evenings. The -normal man within him came into expression. His comparison between the -house of correction and the penitentiary was wholly in favor of the -latter. He recognized the necessity of a strict discipline for men like -himself; he appreciated the difficulties of the warden's position and -his criticisms of the institutions were confined mostly to the abuses -inherent in the contract system. Never coming into contact with the -sick or disabled, himself blessed with the irrepressible buoyancy of the -sons of Erin, physically capable of doing more than all the work -required of him, his point of view of convict life and prison -administration was at that time altogether different from that of John -Bryan. He plunged into correspondence with me with an ardor that never -flagged, covering every inch of the writing-paper allotted him, -treasuring every line of my letters, and re-reading them on the long -Sunday afternoons in his cell. For years he had made the most of the -prison libraries. His reading was mainly along scientific lines; Galton, -Draper, and Herbert Spencer he treasured especially. His favorite novel -was M. Linton's "Joshua Davidson," a striking modern paraphrase of the -life of Jesus. His good nature won him many small favors and privileges -from the prison guards, and the time that I knew him as a prisoner was -unquestionably the happiest period of his life. - -We always had some young prisoner on hand, whom we were trying to rescue -from criminal life. It was usually a cell-mate of Dick's with whom he -had become thoroughly acquainted. And on the outside was Dick's mother -always ready to help her boy set some other mother's boy on his feet. -Our first mutual experiment along this line was in the beginning -somewhat discouraging. The following extract from one of Dick's letters -speaks for itself, not only of our _protégé_, Harry, but of Dick's -attitude in this and similar cases. - -"My brother wrote me that Harry had burnt his foot and was unable to -work for a month, during which time a friend of mine paid his board. On -recovering he went back to work for a few days, drew his pay and left -the city, leaving my friend out of pocket. Now I would like to make this -loss good because I feel responsible for Harry. I have never lost -confidence in him; and what makes me feel worst of all is that I am -unable to let him know that I am not angry with him. I would give twenty -dollars this minute if I knew where a letter would reach him. - -"I have never directly tried to bring any man down to my own level, and -if I never succeed in elevating myself much above my present level I -would like to be the means of elevating others." However, Harry did not -prove altogether a lost venture and Dick was delighted to receive better -news of him later. - -We had better luck next time when Ned Triscom, a young cell-mate of -Dick's, was released. Dick had planned for this boy's future for weeks, -asking my assistance in securing a situation and arranging for an -evening school, the bills guaranteed by Dick. Our plans carried even -better than we hoped. Ned proved really the right sort, and when I -afterward met him in Chicago my impressions more than confirmed Dick's -favorable report. But Ned was Dick's _find_, and Dick must give his own -report. - -"I want to thank you for what you have done for my friend Ned. He has -written me every week since he left, and it does me good to know that he -is on the high road to success. As soon as you begin to receive news -from your friends who have met him you will hear things that will make -your heart glad. He is enthusiastic in his praise of Miss Jane Addams, -has spent some evenings at the Hull House, and goes often to see my -mother. He is doing remarkably well with his work and earned twenty-four -dollars last week. He has no relative nearer than an aunt, whom he will -visit in his vacation. I never asked him _anything about his past_, and -he never told me anything. I simply judged of him by what I saw of him. -I always thought him out of place here and now I wonder how he ever -happened to get here." - -I liked Dick for never having asked Ned anything about his past. Now -through Dick's interest in the boy Ned was placed at once in healthy -moral environment in Chicago, and he was really a very interesting and -promising young man with exceedingly good manners. He called on me one -evening in Chicago and seemed as good as anybody, with the right sort of -interests, and he kept in correspondence with me as long as I answered -his letters. - -Mrs. Mallory was as much interested in Dick's philanthropic experiments -as I was, and several men fresh from the penitentiary spent their first -days of freedom in the sunshine of her warm welcome and under the -shelter of her hospitable roof. Thus Dick Mallory, his mother, and I -formed a sort of first aid to the ex-convict society. - -Another of Mallory's protégés was Sam Ellis, whose criminal sowing of -wild oats appeared to be the expression of a nature with an insatiable -appetite for adventure. The adventure of lawlessness appealed to him as -a game, the very hazards involved luring him on, as "the red game of -war" has lured many a young man and the game of high finance has -ensnared many an older one. - -But Sam Ellis indulged in mental adventures also--in the game of making -fiction so convincing as to be accepted as fact, for Sam was born a -teller of stories. Perhaps I ought to have regarded Sam as a plain liar, -but I never could so regard him, for he frankly discussed this faculty -as he might have discussed any other talent; and he told me that he -found endless fascination in making others believe the pure fabrications -of his imagination. I always felt that as a writer of fiction he would -have found his true vocation and made a success. He had a feeling for -literature, too, and I think he has happily expressed what companions -books may be to a prisoner in the following extract from one of his -letters: - -"I have been fairly devouring Seneca, Montaigne, Saadi, Marcus Aurelius, -Rochefoucauld, Bacon, Sir Thomas More, Shelley, Schopenhauer, Clodd, -Clifford, Huxley, Spencer, Fiske, Emerson, Ignatius Donnelly, Bryan, B. -O. Flower, J. K. Hosmer, and a host of lesser lights." Of Emerson he -says: "We are friends. It was a great rise for me and a terrible -come-down for him. I've done nothing but read, think, talk, and dream -Emerson for two weeks, and familiarity only cements our friendship the -stronger. It must have taken some extraordinary high thinking to create -such pure and delightful things. He uplifts one into a higher atmosphere -and carries the thought along on broad and liberal lines. Instead of -making one look down into the gutter to see the reflection of the sky, -he has us look up into the sky itself." In hours of depression this man -sought the companionship of Marjorie Fleming. Truly he understood the -value of the old advice: "To divert thyself from a troublesome fancy -'tis but to run to thy bookes." And to think of that dear Pet Marjorie -winging her way through the century and across the sea to cheer and -brighten the very abode of gloom and despair! No desire had this man to -read detective stories--he lived them--his life out of prison was full -of excitement and escapade. When seasons of reflection came he turned to -something entirely different; and were not the forces working upward -within him as vital and active as the downward tendencies? - -However that may be, neither Dick Mallory nor I succeeded in getting any -firm grip on that mercurial being; but he never tried to impose on -either of us, was always responsive to my interest in him, and found a -chance to do me a good turn before he disappeared from my horizon in a -far western mining district where doubtless other adventures awaited -him. Dick Mallory always regarded Sam with warm affection, and his -clear-cut personality has left a vivid picture in my memory. - -I find that Dick Mallory was the centre from which radiated more of my -acquaintances in the prison than from any one other source. His mind was -always on the alert regarding the men around him, and he was always on -the lookout for means of helping them. In one of our interviews his -greeting to me was: - -"There are two Polish boys here that you must see; and you must do -something for them." - -"Not another prisoner will I get acquainted with, Dick," was my reply. -"I've more men on my list now than I can do justice to. I've not time -for another one." - -"It makes no difference whether you have time or not, these boys ought -to be out of here and there's nobody to get them out but you," said Dick -in a tone of finality. - -I saw instantly that not only was the fate of the Polish boys involved, -but my standing in the opinion of Mallory; for between us two was the -unspoken understanding that we could count on each other, and Dick knew -perfectly well that I could not fail him. Nothing in all my prison -experience so warms my heart as the thought of our Polish boys. Neither -of them was twenty years of age; they were working boys of good general -character, and yet they were serving a fifteen-year sentence imposed -because of some technicality in an ill-framed law. - -My interview with the younger of the boys was wholly satisfactory. I -found him frank and intelligent and ready to give me every point in his -case. But with the older one it was different; he listened in silence to -all my questions, refusing any reply. At last I said: "You must answer -my questions or I shall not be able to do anything for you." Then he -turned his great black velvet eyes upon me and said only: "You mean to -do me some harm?" What a comment on the boy's experience in Chicago -courts! He simply could not conceive of a stranger seeking him with any -but a harmful motive. And we made no further progress that time, but -when I came again there was welcome in the black velvet eyes, and with -the greeting, "I know now that you are my friend," he gave me his -statement and answered all my questions. - -Now it seemed impossible that such a severe sentence could have been -passed on those boys without some just cause. But I had faith in Dick -Mallory's judgment of them, and my own impressions were altogether -favorable; furthermore, my good friend the warden was convinced that -grave injustice had been done. - -It was two years before I had disentangled all the threads and -marshalled all my evidence and laid the case before the governor. The -governor looked the papers over carefully, and then said: - -"If I did all my work as thoroughly as this has been done I should not -be criticised as I am now. What would you like me to do for these boys?" - -Making one bold dash for what I wanted I answered: "I should like you to -give me two pardons that I can take to the boys to-morrow." - -The governor rang for his secretary, to whom he said: "Make out two -pardons for these Polish boys." And ten minutes later, with the two -pardons in my hand, I left the governor's office. And so it came to -pass that I was indebted to Dick Mallory for one of the very happiest -hours of my life. - -When I reached the prison next day the good news had preceded me. One of -the officers met me at the door and clasped both my hands in welcome, -saying: - -"There isn't an officer or a convict in this prison who will not rejoice -in the freedom of those boys, and every convict will know of it." - -As for the Polish boys themselves, the blond, a dear boy, was expecting -good news; but the black velvet eyes of the dark one were bewildered by -the unbelievable good fortune. I stood at the door and shook hands with -them as they entered into freedom, and afterward received letters from -both giving the details of their homecoming. And so the purpose of -Mallory was accomplished. - -These are but few of the many who owed a debt of gratitude to this man. -Only last year a man now dying in England, in one of his letters to me, -referred gratefully to assistance given him by Mallory on his release -from prison many years ago. Mallory's letters are all the record of a -helping hand. Through them all runs the silver thread of human -kindness, the traces of benefits conferred and efforts made on behalf of -others. - -And what of Dick Mallory's own life after his release from prison? He -had always lacked faith in himself and in his future, and now the -current of existence seemed set against him. He was thirty-two years old -and more than half his life had been spent in confinement, under -restraint. In his ambition to earn money for himself while working on -prison contracts, he had drawn too heavily on both physical and nervous -resources. In his own words: "I did not realize at all the physical -condition I was in. If I could only have gone to some place where I -could have recuperated under medical attention! But no! I only wanted to -get to work. _All I knew was work._" - -The hard times of '93 came on, a man had to take what work he could get, -and Mallory could not do the work that came in his way. His mother died -and the home was broken up. He again resorted to the sociability of the -saloon, and with the renewal of old associations and under the -influences of stimulants the reckless lawlessness of his boyhood again -broke out into some action that resulted in a term in another prison. - -The man was utterly crushed. His old criminal record was brought to -light and he found himself ensnared in the toils of his past. He was -bitterly humiliated--he was in no position to earn a penny, and no -channel for the generous impulses still strong within him was now open. -The old buoyancy of his nature still flickered occasionally from the -dying embers, but gradually darkened into a dull despair as far as his -own life was concerned. But his interest in others survived, and the -only favors he ever asked of me were on behalf of "the boys" whom he -could no longer help. He still wrote me freely and his letters tell -their own story: - -"At one time in our friendship I really believed that everything was -possible in my future. I never meant to deceive you-- And when I -realized my broken promises my heart broke too. I have never been the -same man since and can never be again. I cannot help looking on the dark -side for life has been so hard for me. Ah! it is a hard place when you -reach the stage where the future seems so hopeless as it does to me." - -And hopeless it truly was; imprisonment and dissipation had done their -work and his death came shortly after his release from this prison. -Since his life had proved a losing game it was far better that it should -end. But was not Robert Louis Stevenson right in his belief that all our -moral failures do not lessen the value of our good qualities and our -good deeds? The good that Mallory did was positive and enduring; and -surely his name should be written among those who loved their fellow -men. - -To me the very most cruel stroke in the fate of Dick Mallory was this: -that in the minds of many his history may seem to justify the severity -of legislation against habitual criminals. With all his efforts to save -others, himself he could not save--and well as he knew the injustice -resulting from life sentences for "habituals," the sum of his life -counted against clemency for this class. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Dick Mallory himself was given the maximum sentence of fourteen years -for larceny under the habitual-criminal act; and he did not resent the -sentence in his own case because he found life in the penitentiary on -the whole as satisfactory as it had been on the outside; and when I met -him he had become deeply interested in the other prisoners. But he -resented the fact that the "habitual act" was applied without -discrimination to any one convicted of a second offence. He was doing -some study on his own account of the individual men called "habituals." -I never understood how Dick Mallory contrived to know as much about -individual convicts as he did know; but he was a keen observer and -quick-witted, and the guards and foremen often gave him bits of -information. He admitted, however, that his real knowledge of the men -under the "habitual act" was meagre, and asked me to make some personal -observations. To this end he gave me a list of some half-dozen men whom -I promised to interview, and in this way began my acquaintance with -Peter Belden, an acquaintance destined to continue many years after Dick -Mallory had passed beyond the reach of earthly courts. - -Peter Belden was then a man something over thirty years of age, stunted -in growth, somewhat deaf, with his right arm paralyzed through some -accident in the prison shop. His hair, eyes, and complexion were much of -a color, but his good, strong features expressed intelligence. He wore -the convict stripes, which had the effect of blotting individuality -throughout the prison. - -Notwithstanding these physical disadvantages, a criminal record and a -lifetime of unfavorable environment, some inherent force and manliness -in his nature made itself felt. He took it for granted that I would not -question his sincerity, neither did I. He said nothing of his own -hardships, made no appeal to my sympathy, but discussed the -habitual-criminal act quite impersonally and intelligently; assuming at -once the attitude of one ready to assist me in any effort for the -benefit of the criminal class to which he belonged. - -But while he was talking about others I was thinking about him, and -when I inquired what I could do for him personally he asked me to obtain -the warden's permission to have a pencil and a writing-tablet in his -cell, as he liked to work at mathematical problems in his cell. This was -the only favor the man asked of me while he was in prison, and to this -day I do not know if he thought his fourteen-year sentence was unjust. -As he was quite friendless, and neither received nor wrote letters, he -was only too glad to correspond with me. I was surprised on receiving -his first letter to find his left-handed writing regular and clear, with -only an occasional slip in spelling or in correct English. - -Always interested in the origin and in the formative influences which -had resulted in the criminal life of these men, I asked Belden to write -for me the story of his youth; and I give it from his own letters, now -before me, in his own words as far as possible: - -"I have often thought that the opportunities of life have been pretty -hard with me, still I have tried always to make the best of it. I know -there are many who have fared worse than I, and in my pity towards them -I have managed to find the hard side of life easier than otherwise. - -"I was born on an island off the coast of England. My father and mother -were of Irish descent, but we all spoke both English and French, and I -was in school for four years before I was twelve. My studies were French -and English, history, grammar and spelling; but I put everything aside -for arithmetic and other branches of mathematics: as long as I can -remember I had a greedy taste for figures; I earned my school expenses -by doing odd jobs for a farmer, for we were very poor. My father was a -hard drinker and there were fourteen of us in the family. There were -days when we did not have but a meal or two, and some days when we had -nothing at all to eat." - -The boy's mother was ambitious for his education; she had relatives in -one of our western States, and when Peter was twelve years old he was -sent to this country with the understanding that he was to be kept in -school. - -"But instead of going to school as I had expected I was knocked and -kicked about here and everywhere. My cousin would say, 'It's schoolin' -ye want is it? I'll give ye schoolin',' and her schoolin' was always -given with a club or a kick. 'Learnin' and educatin'? It's too much of -thim ye have already; go out and mind the cow.'" - -The boy endured this life for several months, "dreading this cousin so -much that sometimes I'd stay out all night, sleeping in the near-by -woods." Then, in an hour of desperation, he decided to run away, and -after two or three temporary places where he worked for his board he -drifted into the lumber regions of Michigan. There his ambition for an -education was gratified in an unlooked-for and most curious fashion. - -During the seventies various rumors of immoral houses in connection with -these lumber regions were afloat, and later measures were taken which -effectually dispersed the inmates. One of these houses was kept by a -college graduate from the East, who had been educated for the ministry -but had deflected from the straight and narrow path into the business of -counterfeiting; in consequence he spent five years in prison and -afterward sought refuge from his past in the wilds of Michigan. - -Chance or fate led Peter Belden, a boy of thirteen, into the circle of -this man's dominion, where, strangely enough, the higher side of the -boy's nature found some chance of development. Peter was given -employment at this "Rossman's" as caretaker to the dogs and as -general-errand boy. The man, Rossman, studied the boy, and discovering -his passion for learning cemented a bond between them by the promise of -an equivalent to a course in college. - -It seemed, indeed, like falling into the lap of good fortune for Peter -to be clothed and fed and given a room of his own "with college books on -the shelves" open to his use at any time; "and there was, besides, a -trunk full of books--all kinds of scientific books." - -And here, to his heart's content, the boy revelled in the use of books. -Study was his recreation: and true to his word Rossman gave him daily -instruction, taking him through algebra, trigonometry, and the various -branches of higher mathematics, not omitting geography and history -and--_Bible Study_ every Sunday. Who can fathom the heights and depths, -the mysterious complexities of Rossman's nature? This is Peter's tribute -to the man: - -"I was with him for three years; I always thought he was very kind, not -only to me but to all the girls in the house and to every one." - -In this morally outlawed community Peter grew to be sixteen years old, -attracting to him by some magnetism in his own nature the best elements -in his unfavorable environment. And here the one romance in his life -occurred; on his part at least it seems to have been as idyllic as was -Paul's feeling for Virginia. The girl, young and pretty, was a voluntary -member of "Rossman's." She, too, had a history. Somewhat strictly reared -by her family, she had been placed in a convent school, where she found -the repression and restraint unbearable. In her reckless desire for -freedom, taking advantage of a chance to escape from the convent school, -she found refuge in the nearest city, and while there was induced to -join the Rossman group with no knowledge of the abyss into which she was -plunging. She was still a novice in this venture when she became -interested in Peter Belden, the young student. Together they worked at -problems in figures, their talk often wandering from the problems in -books to the problems of life, especially their own lives, until the day -came when Peter told her that he could not live without her. - -Then the two young things laid their plans to leave that community, be -honestly married, and to work out the problem of life together. -However, this was not to be--for death claimed the wayward girl and -closed the brief chapter of romance in Belden's life. And the man, near -sixty years old now, still keeps this bit of springtime in his heart, -and "May"--so aptly named--through the distillation of time and the -alchemy of memory appears to him now an angel of light, the one love of -his life. - -Other changes were now on the wing. "Rossman's" was no longer to be -tolerated, and the proprietor was obliged to disband his group and leave -that part of the country. It was then that the truly baleful influence -of Rossman asserted itself, blighting fatally the young life now bound -to him by ties of gratitude and habit, and even turning the development -of his mathematical gift into a curse. Forced to abandon the -disreputable business in which he had been engaged, Rossman opened a -gambling-house in Chicago, initiating Belden into all the ways that are -dark and all the artful dodges practised in these gambling-hells. Here -Belden's natural gift for calculation and combination of numbers, -reinforced by mathematical training, came into play. The fascination of -the game for its own sake has even crept into one of Belden's letters to -me, where several pages are devoted to proving how certain results can -be obtained by scientific manipulation of the cards. But again Rossman's -business fell under the ban of the law, and soon after, for some overt -act of dishonesty, Belden was sent to the penitentiary. - -A year later an ex-convict with power of resistance weakened by the -rigidity of prison discipline, with no trade, the ten dollars given by -the State invested in cheap outer clothing to replace the suit, -recognizable at a glance by the police, which the State then bestowed -upon the ex-convict, Belden returned to Chicago. Friendless, penniless, -accustomed to live by his wits, Belden was soon "in trouble" again, was -speedily convicted under the habitual-criminal act and given the maximum -sentence of fourteen years. Three years of this sentence Belden served -after the beginning of our acquaintance. He had met with the accident -resulting in the paralysis of his arm, and his outlook was hopeless and -dreary. However, after the loss of the use of his right hand he -immediately set to work learning to write with his left hand, and this -he speedily accomplished. The tablet granted by the warden at my request -was soon covered with abstruse mathematical problems; differential -calculus was of course meaningless to the guards, but a continuous -supply of tablets was allowed as a safe outlet for a mind considered -"cracked" on the subject of figures. Owing to his infirmities Belden's -prison tasks were light; his devotion to Warden McClaughrey, who treated -him with kindness, kept him obedient to prison rules, while his obliging -disposition won the friendly regard of fellow prisoners. And so the time -drifted by until his final release. This time he left the prison clad in -a well-fitting second-hand suit sent by a friend. Dick Mallory, who was -then a free man, welcomed him in Chicago, saw him on board the train for -another city in which I had arranged for his entrance into a "home," and -with hearty good will speeded his departure from criminal ranks. This -was in the year 1893; from that day forward Peter Belden has lived an -honest life. - -The inmates of the home, or the members of that family, as the sainted -woman who established and superintended the place considered these men, -were expected to contribute toward the expense of the home what it -actually cost to keep them. During the hard winters of 1894 and 1895 -able-bodied men by thousands were vainly seeking work and awaiting -their turn in the breadline at the end of a fruitless day, while Peter -Belden, with his right arm useless, by seizing every chance to earn -small amounts, and by strictest self-denial, contrived to meet the bare -needs of his life. Once or twice for a few days he could not do this, -but the superintendent of the home tided him over these breaks; and I -knew from her that Belden was unflagging in his effort to make his -expenses. That this was far from easy is shown by the following extract -from a letter written in the winter of 1895: - -"I am in pretty good health, thank you, but I have had a hard, hard -time. Do the very best I can I can't get ahead; yesterday I had to -borrow a dollar from the home. Still I am pegging away, day in and day -out, selling note paper. I have felt like giving up in despair many -times these last few months. A _something_, however, tells me to keep -on. You have kindly asked me if I needed clothing. Yes, thank you, I -need shoes and stockings and I haven't money to buy them. Now, dear -friend, don't spend any money in getting these things for me; I shall be -glad and thankful for anything that has been used before." - -As financial prosperity gradually returned, making the ends meet became -easier to Belden. Among his round of note-paper customers he established -friendly relations and was able to enlarge his stock of salable -articles, and he won the confidence of two large concerns that gave him -goods on the instalment plan. At this time the superintendent of the -home wrote me: - -"I am deeply interested in Peter Belden, for he has been a good, honest, -industrious man ever since he came to us. I want to tell you that your -kindly efforts are fully appreciated by him. He is earnestly working up -in a business way, and all who have anything to do with him as a man -have confidence in him." - -Belden's interests, too, began to widen and his frequent letters to me -at this time are like moving pictures, giving glimpses of interiors of -various homes and of contact with all sorts of people--a sympathetic -Jewish woman, a brilliant Catholic bishop, a fake magnetic healer and -spiritualistic fraud. He even approached the celebrated Dean Hole at the -conclusion of a lecture in order to secure the dean's autograph, which -he sent me; and he had interesting experiences with various other -characters. He was frequently drawn into religious discussions, but -firmly held his ground that creeds or lack of creeds were nothing to him -so long as one was good and helpful to others. This simple belief was -consistent with his course of action. Pity dwelt ever in his heart, and -I do not believe that he ever slighted a chance to give the helping -hand. He did not forget the prisoners left behind in the penitentiary -where he had been confined, sending them magazines and letters, and -messages through me. In one of his letters I find this brief incident, -so characteristic of the man as I have known him: - -"While I was canvassing to-day I saw a poor blind dog-- It was a very -pitiful sight. He would go here a little and there a little, moving -backward and forward. The poor thing did not know where he was, for he -was blind as could be, and not only blind but lame also. Something -struck me when I saw him; I said to myself, 'I am crippled but I might -be like this poor dog some day; who can tell? I certainly shall do what -I can for him.' - -"I could not take him home with me but I did the next best thing, for I -took him from the pack of boys who began chasing him and gave him to a -woman who was looking out of a window evidently interested and -sympathetic; she promised to care for him." - -In the hundreds of letters written me by Belden I do not find a line of -condemnation or even of harsh criticism of any one, although he shares -the prejudice common to men of his class against wealthy church-members. -Not that he was envious of their possessions, but, knowing too well the -cruelty and the moral danger of extreme poverty and ready to spend his -last dollar to relieve suffering, he simply could not conceive how it -was possible for a follower of Christ to accumulate wealth while -sweat-shops and child labor existed. - -At this period of Belden's life his knowledge of mathematics afforded -him great pleasure, and it brought him into prominence in the newspaper -columns given to mathematical puzzles, where "Mr. Belden" was quoted as -final authority. Numerous were the newspaper clippings enclosed in his -letters to me, and I have before me an autograph note to Belden from the -query editor of a prominent paper, in which he says: - -"Your solution of the problem is a most ingenious and mathematically -learned analysis of the question presented, and highly creditable to -your talent." - -This recognition of superiority in the realm of his natural gift and -passion was precious indeed to Belden, but he was extremely sensitive in -regard to his past and avoided contact and acquaintance with those who -might be curious about it. And to be known as an inmate of the home was -to be known as an ex-convict. - -This maimed, ex-convict life he must bear to the end: only outside of -that could he meet men as their equal; and so he guarded his incognito, -but not altogether successfully. - -Once he made the experiment of going to a neighboring city and trying to -make some commercial use of his mathematics, but he could not gain his -starting-point. He had no credentials as teacher, and while he might -have been valuable as an expert accountant his disadvantages were too -great to be overcome. - -More and more frequently as the years passed came allusions to loss of -time through illness. His faithful friend, the superintendent of the -home, had passed to her reward, and the home as Belden had known it was -a thing of the past. - -Life was becoming a losing game, a problem too hard to be solved, when -tubercular tendencies of long standing developed and Belden became a -charge on some branch of the anti-tuberculosis movement, where he spent -a summer out of doors. Here he frankly faced the fact of the disease -that was developing, and characteristically read all the medical works -on the subject that the camp afforded, determined to make a good fight -against the enemy. He seemed to find a sort of comfort in bringing -himself into companionship with certain men of genius who had fought the -same foe; he mentions Robert Louis Stevenson, Chopin, and Keats, and, -more hopefully, others who were finally victorious over the disease. - -With the approach of cold weather it was thought best to send Belden to -a warmer climate; arrangements were made accordingly, and he was given a -ticket to a far distant place where it was supposed he would have a -better chance of recovery. There for a time he rallied and grew -stronger, but only to face fresh hardships. He was physically incapable -of earning a living, and it was not long before he became a public -charge and was placed in an infirmary for old men; for more than fifty -years of poverty and struggle with fate had left the traces of a -lifetime on the worn-out body. But the "something" which he felt told -him to keep on through many hardships does not desert him now, and the -old spirit of determination to make the best of things holds out still. -His letters show much the same habit of observation as formerly; bits of -landscape gleam like pictures through some of his pages, and historical -associations in which I might be interested are gathered and reported. -His one most vital interest at present seems to be the production of -this book, as he firmly believes that no one else can "speak for the -prisoners" as the writer. - -It seems that even Death itself, "who breaks all chains and sets all -captives free," cannot be kind to Peter Belden, and delays coming, -through wearisome days and more wearisome nights. But at last, when the -dark curtain of life is lifted, we can but trust that a happier fortune -awaits him in a happier country. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -At the time of my first visit to the penitentiary of my own State the -warden surprised me by saying: "Among the very best men in the prison -are the 'life' men, the men here for murder." - -How true this was I could not then realize, but as in time I came to -know well so many of these men the words of the warden were fully -confirmed. - -The law classes the killing of one person by another under three heads: -murder in the first degree; murder in the second degree; and -manslaughter. The murder deliberately planned and executed constitutes -murder in the first degree; and for this, in many of our States, the -penalty is still capital punishment; otherwise, legal murder -deliberately planned and officially executed, the penalty duplicating -the offence in general outline. This is the popular conception of -fitting the punishment to the crime; and its continuance ignores the -obvious truth that, so long as the law justifies and sets the example of -taking life under given circumstances, so long will the individual -justify himself in taking life under circumstances which seem to him to -warrant doing so; the individual simply takes the law into his own -hands. War and the death penalty are the two most potent sources of -mental suggestion in the direction of murder. - -In every execution within the walls of a penitentiary the suggestion of -murder is sown broadcast among the other convicts, and is of especial -danger to those mentally unsound. As long as capital punishment is -upheld as necessary to the protection of society each State should have -its State executioner; and executions should take place at the State -capital in the presence of the governor and as many legislators as may -be in the city. In relegating to the penitentiary the ugly office of -Jack Ketch we escape the realization of what it all is--how revolting, -how barbarous--and we throw one more horror into the psychic atmosphere -of prison life. - -Several factors have combined to hold the death penalty so long on the -throne of justice. Evolution has not yet eliminated from the human being -the elementary savage instinct of bloodthirstiness, so frightfully -disclosed in the revolting rush of the populace eager to witness the -public executions perpetrated in France in the present century; public -executions in defiance of the established fact that men hitherto -harmless have gone from the sight of an execution impelled to kill some -equally harmless individual. - -Many good men and women, ignoring the practical effect of anything so -obscure as "suggestion," honestly believe that fear of the death penalty -has a restraining influence upon the criminal class. In those States and -countries which have had the courage to abolish the death penalty the -soundness of the "deterrent effect" theory is being tested; statistics -vary in different localities but the aggregate of general statistics -shows a decrease in murders following the abolition of the death -penalty. - -A silent partner in the support of capital punishment is the general -assumption that the murderer is a normal and a morally responsible human -being. Science is now leading us to a clearer understanding of the -relation between the moral and the physical in human nature, and we are -beginning to perceive that complex and far-reaching are the causes, the -undercurrents, the abnormal impulses which come to the surface in the -act of murder. Some years ago in England, upon the examination of the -brains of a successive number of men executed for murder, it was -ascertained that eighty-five per cent of those brains were organically -diseased. Granting that these men were criminally murderers, we must -grant also that they were mentally unsound, themselves victims of -disease before others became their victims. Where the moral -responsibility lies, the Creator alone can know; perhaps in a crowded -room of a foul tenement an overworked mother or a brutal father struck a -little boy on the head, and the little brain _went wrong_, some of those -infinitesimal brain-cells related to moral conduct were crushed, and -years afterward the effect of the cruel blow on the head of the -defenceless child culminated in the murderous blow from the hand of this -child grown to manhood. And back of the blow given the child stand the -saloon and the sweat-shop and the bitter poverty and want which can -change a human being into a brute. Saloons and sweat-shops flourish in -our midst, and cruel is the pressure of poverty, and terrible in their -results are the blows inflicted upon helpless children. When the State -vigorously sets to work to remove or ameliorate the social conditions -which cause crime there will be fewer lawless murderers to be legally -murdered. - -Time and again men innocent of the crime have been executed for murder. -Everything is against a man accused of murder. The simple accusation -antagonizes the public against the accused man. The press, which loves -to be sensational, joins in the prosecution, sometimes also the pulpit. -The tortures of the sweat-box are resorted to, that the accused may be -driven to convict himself before being tried; and one who has no money -may find himself convicted simply because he cannot prove his -innocence--although the law professes to hold a man innocent until his -guilt is proven. - -For years I was an advocate of the death penalty as a merciful -alternative to life imprisonment. Knowing that the certainty of -approaching death may effect spiritual awakening and bring to the -surface all that is best in a man; believing that death is the great -liberator and the gateway to higher things; knowing that a man -imprisoned for life may become mentally and spiritually deadened by the -hopelessness of his fate, or may become so intent on palliating, -excusing, or justifying his crime as to lose all sense of guilt, perhaps -eventually to believe himself a victim rather than a criminal; knowing -the unspeakable suffering of the man who abandons himself to remorse, -and knowing how often the "life man" becomes a prey to insanity, in -sheer pity for the prisoner I came to regard the death penalty as a -merciful means of escape from an incomparably worse fate. - -So far my point of view was taken only in relation to the prisoner for -life. Later, when I had studied the subject more broadly, in considering -the effect of the death penalty upon the community at large and as a -measure for the protection of society, I could not escape the conviction -that in the civilized world of to-day capital punishment is -indefensible. Christianity, humanity, sociology, medical science, -psychology, and statistics stand solid against the injustice and the -unwisdom of capital punishment. Public sentiment, the last bulwark of -the death penalty, is slowly but surely becoming enlightened, and the -final victory of humanitarianism is already assured. - -Throughout the United States the legal penalty for murder in the second -degree is imprisonment for life; then follows the crime called -manslaughter, when the act is committed in self-defence or under other -extenuating circumstances; the penalty for which is imprisonment for a -varying but limited term of years. Practically there is no definite line -dividing murder in the second degree from manslaughter. A clever expert -lawyer, whether on the side of prosecution or the defence, has little -difficulty in carrying his case over the border in the one direction or -the other. Money, and the social position of the accused, are important -factors in adjusting the delicate balance between murder in the second -degree and manslaughter. - -Various are the pathways that lead to the illegal taking of life; -terrible often the pressure brought to bear upon the man before the deed -is done. Deadly fear, the fear common to humanity, has been the force -that drove the hand of many a man to strike, stab, or shoot with fatal -effect; while anger, righteous or unrighteous, the momentary impulse of -intense emotional excitement to which we are all more or less liable, -has gathered its host of victims and caused the tragic ruin of -unnumbered men now wearing life away in our penitentiaries. - -And terribly true it is that some of the "life" men are among the best -in our prisons, the "life" men who are all indiscriminately called -murderers. That some of them were murderers at heart and a menace to the -community we cannot doubt; doubtless, also, some are innocent of any -crime; and there are others for whom it would be better for all -concerned if they were given liberty to-day. - -It seems to be assumed that a man unjustly imprisoned suffers more than -the one who knows that he has only himself to blame. Much depends upon -the nature of the man. Given two men of equally sound moral nature, -while the one with a clear conscience may suffer intensely, from the -sense of outrage and injustice, from the tearing of the heart-strings -and the injury to business relations, his mental agony can hardly equal -that of the man whose heart is eaten out with remorse. The best company -any prisoner can have is his own self-respect, the best asset of a -bankrupt life. I have been amazed to see for how much that counts in the -peace and hope, and the great power of patience which makes for health -and gives strength for endurance. - -I was deeply impressed with this fact in the case of one man. His name -was Gay Bowers, a name curiously inconsistent with his fate, and, "life -man" though he was, no one in that big prison ever associated him with -murder; no one who really looked into his face could have thought him a -criminal. It was the only face I ever saw, outside of a book, that -seemed chastened through sorrow; his gentle smile was like the faint -sunshine of an April day breaking through the mists; and there was about -the man an atmosphere of youth and springtime though he was near forty -when we first met; but it was the arrested youth of a man to whom life -seemed to have ended when he was but twenty-two. - -Gay was country born and bred, loved and early married a country girl, -and was known throughout the neighborhood as a hard-working, steady -young fellow. He lived in a village near the Mississippi River, and one -summer he went down to St. Louis on some business and returned by boat. -On the steamboat a stranger, a young man of near his age, made advances -toward acquaintance, and hearing his name exclaimed: - -"Gay Bowers! why my name is Ray Bowers, and I'm looking for work. I -guess I'll go to your town and we'll call each other cousins; perhaps we -are related." - -The stranger seemed very friendly and kept with Bowers when they reached -the home town; there Ray found work and seemed all right for a while. - -And here I must let Gay Bowers tell the rest of the story as he told it -to me, in his own words as nearly as I can remember them. I listened -intently to his low, quiet voice, but I seemed reading the story in his -eyes at the same time, for the absolutely convincing element was the way -in which Bowers was living it all over again as he unfolded the scene -with a certain thrill in his tones. I felt as if I was actually -witnessing the occurrence, so vividly was the picture in his mind -transferred to mine. - -"My wife and I had just moved into a new home that very day, we and our -little year-old girl, and Ray had helped us in the moving and stayed to -supper with us. After supper Ray said he must go, and asked me to go a -piece with him as he had something to say to me. - -"So I went along with him. Back of the house the road ran quite a way -through deep woods. We were in the middle of the woods when Ray stopped -and told me what he wanted of me. He told me that he had been a -horse-thief over in Missouri, that his picture was in 'the rogues' -gallery' in St. Louis over his own name, Jones; that it wasn't safe for -him to be in Missouri, where he was 'wanted' and that he had got on the -boat without any plans; but as soon as he saw me, a working, country -man, he thought he might as well hitch on to me and go to my place. But -he said he was tired of working; and farmer Smith had a fine pair of -horses which he could dispose of if I would take them out of the barn -into the next county. Ray wanted me to do this because of my good -reputation. Everybody knew me and I was safe from suspicion; and he said -we could make a lot of money for us both if I went into the business -with him. - -"All of a sudden I knew then that for some time I'd been _feeling_ that -Ray wasn't quite square. There had been some little things--of course I -said I wouldn't go in with him; and I don't know what else I said for I -was pretty mad to find out what kind of a man he was and how he had -fooled me. Perhaps I threatened to tell the police; anyway Ray said he -would kill me before I had a chance to give him away if I didn't go into -the deal with him, for then I wouldn't dare 'peach.' Still I refused. - -"And then"--here a look of absolute terror came into Bowers's -eyes--"then he suddenly struck me a terrible blow and I knew I was in a -fight for my life. He fought like the desperate man that he was. I -managed to reach down and pick up a stick and struck out: I never -thought of killing the man; it was just a blind fight to defend myself. - -"But he let go and fell. When he did not move I bent over him and felt -for his heart. I could not find it beating; but I could not believe he -was dead. I waited for some sign of life but there was none. I was -horror-struck and dazed; but I knew I could not leave him in the road -where he had fallen, so I dragged him a little way into the woods. There -I left him. - -"I hurried back home to tell my wife what had happened; but when I -opened the door my wife was sitting beside the cradle where the baby -was. Cynthy was tired and sleepy with her day's work, and everything -seemed so natural and peaceful I just couldn't tell her, and I couldn't -think, or anything. So I told her she'd better go to bed while I went -across the road to speak to her father. - -"It wasn't more than nine o'clock then, and I found her father sitting -alone smoking his pipe. He began to talk about his farm work. He didn't -notice anything queer about me and I was so dazed-like that it all began -to seem unreal to me. I tried once or twice to break into his talk and -tell him, but I couldn't put the horror into words--_I couldn't_. - -"Perhaps it wouldn't have made any difference if I had told him; anyway -I didn't. When the body was found next morning of course they came right -to our house with the story, for Ray had told folks that he was a -relation of mine. I told just what had happened but it didn't count for -anything--I was tried for murder and not given a chance to make any -statement. Because I was well thought of by my neighbors they didn't -give me the rope, but sent me here for life." - -Bowers had been sixteen years in prison when I first met him. He had -accepted his fate as an overwhelming misfortune, like blindness or -paralysis, but never for a moment had he lost his self-respect, and he -clung to his religion as the isle of refuge in his wrecked existence. - -"Mailed in the armor of a pure intent" which the degradations of convict -life could not penetrate, as the years passed he had achieved true -serenity of spirit, and that no doubt contributed to his apparently -unbroken health. His work was not on contract but in a shop where -prison supplies were made, canes for the officers, etc. One day Bowers -sent me a beautifully made cane, which I may be glad to use if I ever -live to have rheumatism. - -Bowers, like all life men, early laid his plans for a pardon and had a -lawyer draw up a petition; but the difficulty in the case was that there -wasn't a particle of evidence against the dead man excepting Bowers's -own word. But Bowers's mind was set on establishing the truth of his -statement regarding the character of the other man, and he saw only one -way of doing this. Ray had said that his real name was Jones, and his -photograph was in the rogues' gallery in St. Louis under the name of -Jones. Now, if there was such a photograph in St. Louis Bowers -determined to get it, and at last, after ten years, he obtained -possession of the photograph, with the help of a lawyer, and again he -looked upon the face of Ray, named Jones, with the record "horse-thief." -The proven character of Jones did not alter the fact that he had been -killed by Bowers; nor in that part of the country did it serve as a -reason for release of Bowers; and the years went on the same as before. - -Bowers's wife had not learned to write, but the baby, Carrie, grew into -a little girl and went to school, and she wrote regularly to her father, -who was very proud of her letters. When still a little girl she was -taken into a neighbor's family. After a time the neighbor's wife died -and Carrie not being equal to the work of the house her mother came to -help out--so said Carrie's letters. And Bowers, who still cherished the -home ties, was thankful that his wife and child were taken care of. -Every night he prayed for them and always he hoped for the day when he -could take them in his arms. - -His letters to me were few as he wrote regularly to his daughter; but -after he had been in prison eighteen years he wrote me the joyful news -that he would be released in a few weeks, for his lawyer had proven a -faithful friend. The letter was a very happy one written in December, -and the warden had allowed Bowers to tinker up some little gifts to be -sent to the wife and daughter. "They stand in a row before me as I am -writing, _and I think they are as beautiful as butterflies_," his letter -said. - -On his release Bowers, now a man past forty, had to begin life over -again. He had lost his place in his community, he had no money, but he -had hope and ambition, and as a good chance was offered him in the -penitentiary city he decided to take it and go right to work. He wrote -his daughter that he would arrange for her and her mother to come to -him, and there they would start a new home together. - -Little did he dream of the shock awaiting him when the answer to that -letter came, telling him that for several years his wife had been -married to the man who had given Carrie a home. Both the man and the -woman had supposed that when Bowers was sent to prison for life the wife -was divorced and free to marry. She was hopeless as to her husband's -release, and tired and discouraged with her struggle with poverty. Her -brief married life had come to seem only a memory of her youth, and she -was glad of the chance to be taken care of like other women, but a -feeling of tenderness and pity for the prisoner had caused her to -protect him from the knowledge of her inconstancy. - -The second husband felt that to Bowers must be left the decision as to -the adjustment of the tangled relationships, and Bowers wrote me that he -had decided that the second husband had the stronger claim, as he had -married the woman in good faith and made her happy; one thing he -insisted upon, however--that if the present arrangement were to -continue, his former wife must take her divorce from him and be legally -married to the other man. And this was done. - -To find himself another Enoch Arden was a hard blow to Bowers, but the -years of work and poverty must have wrought such changes in the girl -wife of long ago that she was lost to him forever; while the man who -came out of that prison after eighteen years of patient endurance and -the spiritual development that long acquaintance with grief sometimes -brings was a different being from the light-hearted young farmer's boy -that the girl had married. They must inevitably have become as strangers -to each other. - -With the daughter the situation was different. From childhood she had -faithfully written to an imaginary father whom she could not remember, -but with whom a real tie must have been formed through their letters; -and Carrie had now come to be near the age of the wife he had left. The -daughter was to come to him, and she must have found in the real father -something even finer than her imagination could have pictured. - -Gay Bowers had been a prisoner for those eighteen years, with never a -criminal thought or intention. As human courts go he was not the victim -of injustice nor could "society" be held in any way responsible. There -was no apparent relation between his environment or his character and -his tragic experience. It was like a Greek drama where Fate rules -inexorable, but this fate was borne with the spirit of a Christian -saint. What the future years held for him I do not know, since through -carelessness on my part our correspondence was not kept up. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -In another instance, with quite different threads, the hand of fate -seemed to have woven the destiny of the man, but I was slow in -perceiving that it was not merely the tragedy of the prison that was -unfolding before me but the wider drama of life itself. - -Generally speaking, among my prison acquaintance there was some -correspondence between the personality of the man and his history. The -prisoner who said frankly to me, "I always cheat a man when I can, -because I know he would cheat me if he had the chance: 'tis diamond cut -diamond," this man curiously but logically resembled a fox. And any one -could see at a glance that Gay Bowers was a man in whom was no guile. - -But no clew to the complex nature of Harry Hastings was to be found in -his appearance. We had exchanged a number of letters before we met. He -wrote intelligently with but an occasional slip in spelling, and seemed -to be a man of fair education. He was in prison for life on the charge -of having shot in the street a woman of the streets; the man claimed -innocence, but I never tried to unravel the case, as the principal -witness for the defence had left the city where the shooting occurred, -and there seemed to be no starting-point for an appeal for pardon. What -the boy wanted of me--he was but little past twenty--was a channel -through which he could reach the higher things of life. Passionate -aspiration ran through all his letters, aspiration toward the true, the -beautiful, and the good. He quoted Emerson and studied George -Eliot--Romola, the woman, he criticised for being blinded to Tito's -moral qualities by his superficial charms. He had a way of piercing to -the heart of things and finding beauty where many others would have -missed it. Music he loved above all else; and in music his memory was -haunted by "The Coulin"--a wild, despairing cry of downtrodden Ireland, -an air in which, some one has said, "Ireland gathered up her centuries -of oppression and flung it to the world in those heart-breaking -strains." It happened that I had never heard "The Coulin" except under -my own fingers, and it struck me as a curious bit of the boy's make-up -that this tragic music had become part of his mental endowment. He had -heard it but once, played by a German musician. Barring glimpses of the -world of music, the boy's life had been such as to exclude him from all -the finer associations of life. - -He had written me, in his second letter, that he was "coloured"; and he -had given this information as if he were confessing a crime more serious -even than murder. He really felt that he might be uncovering an -impassable chasm between us. Race prejudices are against my principles, -but I was taken aback when the writer of those interesting letters was -materialized in the person of the blackest little negro I ever saw. -"Black as the ace of spades," was my first thought. He had no father at -that time but was devoted to his mother, who was an illiterate colored -woman. As a growing boy he had gone to a horse-race and, fired with the -ambition to become a horse-jockey, had hung around the racing-stables -until his aptitude for the business attracted the horsemen. Harry was -agile and fearless and of light weight, and when at last his ambition -was attained he told me it was the proudest day of his life; and he felt -that he had achieved glory enough to satisfy any one when the horse he -rode as jockey won the race. - -The associations of the race-track formed the school of those plastic -years; and the thorn in the flesh was the nickname of "the little runt" -by which he was known among the men. The consciousness of his stunted -body and his black skin seemed seared upon his very heart, a living -horror from which there was no escape. This, far more than his fate as a -life prisoner, was the tragedy of his existence. Freedom he could hope -for; but only death could release him from his black body. He did not -despise the colored race; rather was he loyal to it; it was his -individual destiny, the fact that his life was incased in that stunted -black form that kept alive the sense of outrage. He hated to be known as -"the little runt." He hated his coal-black skin. - -Doubtless when free to mingle with colored people on the outside his -other faculties came into play, for he had the darky love of fun and -sense of humor; but the prison life cut him off from all that, and, the -surface of his nature being stifled, what dormant strains of white -ancestry might not have been aroused to activity? His skin was black, -indeed; but his features told the story of the blending with another -race. I could but feel that it was the mind of the white man that -suffered so in the body of the black--that in this prisoner the -aristocrat was chained to the slave. The love of literature, the thirst -for the higher things of life, had no connection with "Little Runt," the -ignorant horse-jockey. Was the man dying of homesickness for the lost -plane of life? - -The theosophist would tell us that Harry Hastings might have been a -reincarnation of some cruel slave-trader, merciless of the suffering he -inflicted upon his innocent victims; and possibilities of the stirring -of latent inherited memories are also suggested. Be that as it may, we -cannot solve the problem of that life in which two streams of being were -so clearly defined, where the blue blood was never merged in the black. - -Harry's handwriting was firm, clear-cut, and uniform. I lent to a friend -the most striking and characteristic of his letters, and I can give no -direct quotations from them, as they were not returned; but writing was -his most cherished resource, and he tells me that when answering my -letters he almost forgot that he was a prisoner. - -The terrible ordeal of life was mercifully short to Harry Hastings. When -I saw him last, in the prison hospital, a wasted bit of humanity fast -drifting toward the shores of the unknown, with dying breath he still -asserted his innocence; but he felt himself utterly vanquished by the -decree of an adverse fate. To the mystery of death was left the clearing -of the mystery of life. - -It was Hiram Johnson who taught me what a smothering, ghastly thing -prison life in America may be. One of the guards had said to me, "Hiram -Johnson is a life man who has been here for years. No one ever comes to -see him, and I think a visit would do him lots of good." The man who -appeared in answer to the summons was a short, thick-set fellow of -thirty-five or more, with eyes reddened and disabled by marble-dust from -the shop in which he had worked for years. He smiled when I greeted him, -but had absolutely nothing to say. I found that visit hard work; the man -utterly unresponsive; answering in the fewest words my commonplace -inquiries as to his health, the shop he worked in, and how long he had -been there. Six months after I saw him again with exactly the same -experience. He had nothing to say and suggested nothing for me to say. I -knew only that he expected to see me when I came to the prison, and -after making his acquaintance I could never disappoint one of those -desolate creatures whose one point of contact with the world was the -half-hour spent with me twice a year. - -When I had seen the man some half-dozen times, at the close of an -interview I said, in half-apology for my futile attempts to keep up -conversation: "I'm sorry that I haven't been more interesting to-day; I -wanted to give you something pleasant to think of." - -"It has meant a great deal to me," he answered. "You can't know what it -means to a man just to know that some one remembers he is alive. That -gives me something pleasant to think about when I get back to my cell." - -We had begun correspondence at the opening of our acquaintance, but -rarely was there a line in his earlier letters to which I could make -reply or comment. Mainly made up of quotations from the Old Testament, -scriptural imprecations upon enemies seemed to be his chief mental -resource. The man considered himself "religious," and had read very -little outside his Bible, which was little more intelligible to him than -the original Greek would have been; excepting where it dealt with -denunciations. - -In my replies to these letters I simply aimed to give the prisoner -glimpses of something outside, sometimes incidents of our own family -life, and always the assurance that I counted him among my prison -friends, that "there was some one who remembered that he was alive." It -was five or six years before I succeeded in extracting the short story -of his life, knowing only that he had killed some one. The moral fibre -of a man, and the sequence of events which resulted in the commission of -a crime have always interested me more than the one criminal act. One -day, in an unusually communicative mood, Johnson told me that as a child -he had lost both parents, that he grew up in western Missouri without -even learning to read, serving as chore-boy and farm-hand until he was -sixteen, when he joined the Southern forces in 1863, drifting into the -guerilla warfare. It was not through conviction but merely by chance -that he was fighting for rather than against the South; it was merely -the best job that offered itself and the killing of men was only a -matter of business. Afterward he thought a good deal about this guerilla -warfare as it related itself to his own fate, and he said to me: - -"I was paid for killing men, for shooting on sight men who had never -done me any harm. The more men I killed the better soldier they called -me. When the war was over I killed one more man. I had reason this time, -good reason. The man was my enemy and had threatened to kill me, and -that's why I shot him. But then they called me a murderer, and shut me -up for the rest of my life. I was just eighteen years old." - -Such was the brief story of Johnson's life; such the teaching of war. In -prison the man was taught to read; in chapel he was taught that prison -was not the worst fate for the murderer; that an avenging God had -prepared endless confinement in hell-fire for sinners like him unless -they repented and propitiated the wrath of the Ruler of the Universe. -And so, against the logic of his own mind, while religion apparently -justified war, he tried to discriminate between war and murder and to -repent of taking the one life which he really felt justified in taking; -he found a certain outlet for his warlike spirit or his elemental human -desire to fight, in arraying himself on God's side and against the -enemies of the Almighty. And no doubt he found a certain kind of -consolation in denouncing in scriptural language the enemies of the -Lord. - -But all this while in the depths of Johnson's nature something else was -working; a living heart was beating and the sluggish mind was seeking an -outlet. A gradual change took place in his letters; the handwriting grew -more legible, now and again gleams of the buried life broke through the -surface, revealing unexpected tenderness toward nature, the birds, and -the flowers. Genuine poetic feeling was expressed in his efforts to -respond to my friendship, as where he writes: - -"How happy would I be could I plant some thotte in the harte of my -friend that would give her pleasure for many a long day." And when -referring to some evidence of my remembrance of my prisoners, he said: -"We always love those littel for-gett-me-nottes that bloom in the harte -of our friends all the year round. Remember that we can love that which -is lovely." - -Dwelling on the loneliness of prison life and the value of even an -occasional letter, he writes: "The kind word cheares my lonely hours -with the feelings that some one thinks of me. _Human nature seems to -have been made that way._ There are many who would soon brake down and -die without this simpathy." - -Always was there the same incongruity between the spelling and a certain -dignity of diction, which I attributed to his familiarity with the -Psalms. His affinity with the more denunciatory Psalms is still -occasionally evident, as when he closes one letter with these sentences: -"One more of my enemies is dead. The hande of God is over them all. May -he gather them all to that country where the climate is warm and the -worm dieth not!" - -To me this was but the echo of fragments of Old Testament teaching. At -last came one letter in which the prisoner voiced his fate in sentences -firm and clear as a piece of sculpture. This is the letter exactly as it -was written: - - - "MY DEAR FRIEND: - - "I hope this may find you well. It has bin some time since I heard - from you and I feel that I should not trespass on you too offten. - You know that whether I write or not I shall in my thottes wander - to you and shall think I heare you saying some sweet chearing word - to incourage me, and it is such a pleasant thing, too. But you know - theas stripes are like bands of steel to keep one's mouth shut, and - the eye may not tell what the heart would say were the bondes - broken that keep the lippes shut. If one could hope and believe - that what the harte desired was true, then to think would be a - pleasure beyond anything else the world could give. But to be - contented here the soul in us must die. We must become stone - images. - - "Yourse truly, - "HIRAM JOHNSON." - - -Not for himself alone did this man speak. "To be contented here the soul -in us must die." "We must become stone images." From the deepest depths -of his own experience it was given to this unlettered convict to say for -all time the final word as to the fate of the "life man," up to the -present day. - -After this single outburst, if anything so restrained can be called an -outburst, Hiram Johnson subsided into much of his former immobility. -Like all "life men" he had begun his term in prison with the feeling -that it _must_ come to an end sometime. What little money he had was -given to a lawyer who drew up an application for shortening of the -sentence, the petition had been sent to the governor, and the papers, -duly filed, had long lain undisturbed in the governor's office. When I -first met Johnson he still cherished expectations that "something would -be done" in his case, but as years rolled by and nothing was done the -tides of hope ran low. Other men sentenced during the sixties received -pardons or commutations or had died, until at last "old Hiram Johnson" -arrived at the distinction of being the only man in that prison who had -served a fifty-year sentence. - -Now, a fifty-year sentence does not mean fifty years of actual time. In -different States the "good time" allowed a convict differs, this good -time meaning that by good behavior the length of imprisonment is -reduced. In the prison of which I am writing long sentences could be -shortened by nearly one-half: thus by twenty-nine years of good conduct -Johnson had served a legal sentence of fifty years. No other convict in -that prison had lived and kept his reason for twenty-nine years. Johnson -had become a figure familiar to every one in and about the place. Other -convicts came and went, but he remained; plodding along, never -complaining, never giving trouble, doing his full duty within its -circumscribed limits. Altogether he had a good record and the -authorities were friendly to him. - -Hitherto I had never asked executive clemency except in cases where it -was clear that the sentence had been unjust; and I had been careful to -keep my own record high in this respect, knowing that if I had the -reputation of being ready to intercede for any one who touched my -sympathies, I should lower my standing with the governors. But it seemed -to me that Johnson, by more than half his lifetime of good conduct in -prison had established a claim upon mercy, and earned the right to be -given another chance in freedom. - -I found the governor in a favorable state of mind, as in one of his late -visits to the penitentiary Johnson had been pointed out to him as the -only man who had ever served a fifty-year sentence. After looking over -the petition for pardon then on file and ascertaining that Johnson had -relatives to whom he could go, the governor decided to grant his -release. But as an unlooked-for pardon was likely to prove too much of a -shock to the prisoner the sentence was commuted to a period which would -release him in six weeks, and to me was intrusted the breaking of the -news to Johnson and the papers giving him freedom. We knew that it was -necessary for Johnson to be given time to enable his mind to grasp the -fact of coming release and to make very definite plans to be met at the -prison-gates by some one on whom he could depend, for the man of -forty-seven would find a different world from the one he left when a boy -of eighteen. It gives one a thrill to hold in one's hands the papers -that are to open the doors of liberty to a man imprisoned for life, and -it was with a glad heart that I took the next train for the -penitentiary. - -My interview with Johnson was undisturbed by any other presence, and he -greeted me with no premonition of the meaning of the roll of white paper -that I held. Very quietly our visit began; but when Johnson was quite at -his ease, I asked: "Has anything been done about your case since I saw -you last?" "Oh, no, nothing ever will be done for me! I've given up all -hope." - -"I had a talk with the governor about you yesterday, and he was willing -to help you. He gave me this paper which you and I will look over -together." I watched in vain for any look of interest in his face as I -said this. - -Slowly, aloud, I read the official words, Johnson's eyes following as I -read; but his realization of the meaning of the words came with -difficulty. When I had read the date of his release we both paused; as -the light broke into his mind, he said: - -"Then in January I shall be free"; another pause, while he tried to -grasp just what this would mean to him; and then, "I shall be free. Now -I can work and earn money to send you to help other poor fellows." That -was his uppermost thought during the rest of the interview. - -In the evening the Catholic chaplain, Father Cyriac, of beloved memory, -came to me with the request that I have another interview with Johnson, -saying: "The man is so distressed because in his overwhelming surprise -he forgot to thank you to-day." - -"He thanked me better than he knew," I replied. - -But of course I saw Johnson again the next day; and in this, our last -interview, he made a final desperate effort to tell me what his prison -life had been. "Behind me were stone walls, on each side of me were -stone walls, nothing before me but stone walls. And then you came and -brought hope into my life, and now you have brought freedom, and _I -cannot find words to thank you_." And dropping his head on his folded -arms the man burst into tears, his whole body shaken with sobs. I hope -that I made him realize that there was no need of words, that when deep -calleth unto deep the heart understands in silence. - -Only yesterday, turning to my writing-desk in search of something else, -I chanced across a copy of the letter I wrote to the governor after my -interview with Johnson, and as it is still warm with the feelings of -that never-to-be-forgotten experience, I insert it here: - -"I cannot complete my Thanksgiving Day until I have given you the -message of thanks entrusted to me by Hiram Johnson. At first he could -not realize that the long years of prison life were actually to be -ended. It was too bewildering, like a flood of light breaking upon one -who has long been blind. And when he began to grasp the meaning of your -gift the first thing he said to me was, 'Now I can work and earn money -to send you for some other poor fellow.' - -"Not one thought of self, only of the value of liberty as a means, at -last, to do something for others. How _hard_ he tried to find words to -express his gratitude. It made my heart ache for the long, long years of -repression that had made direct expression almost impossible; and in -that thankfulness, so far too deep for words, I read, too, the measure -of how terrible the imprisoned life had been. Thank heaven and a good -governor, it will soon be over! Hiram Johnson has a generous heart and -true, and he will be a good man. And it is beautiful to know that -spiritual life can grow and unfold even under the hardest conditions." - -What life meant to Johnson afterward I do not know; but I do know that -he found home and protection with relatives on a farm, and the letters -that he wrote me indicated that he took his place among them not as an -ex-convict so much as a man ready to work for his living and entitled to -respect. Being friendly he no doubt found friends; and though he was a -man near fifty, perhaps the long-buried spirit of youth came to life -again in the light of freedom. At all events, once more the blue skies -were above him and he drew again the blessed breath of liberty. Although -he never realized his dream of helping me to help others, I never -doubted the sincerity of his desire to do so. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Mr. William Ordway Partridge, in "Art for America," says to us: "Let us -learn to look upon every child face that comes before us as a possible -Shakespeare or Michael Angelo or Beethoven. The artistic world is -rejoicing over the discovery in Greece of some beautiful fragments of -sculpture hidden far beneath the _débris_ of centuries; shall we not -rejoice more richly when we are able to dig down beneath the surface of -the commonest child that comes to us from our great cities, and discover -and develop that faculty in him which is to make him fit to live in -usefulness with his fellow men? Seeking for these qualities in the child -we shall best conserve, as is done in physical nature, the highest type, -until we have raised all human life to a higher level." - -I hope that some day Mr. Partridge will write a plea for elementary art -classes in our prisons. For in every prison there are gifted men and -boys whose special talents might be so trained and developed as to -change the channel of their lives. What chances our prisons have with -these wards of the state, to discover and develop the individual powers -that might make their owners self-respecting and self-supporting men! - -We are doing this in our institutions for the feeble-minded and with -interesting results, but in our prisons the genius of a Michael Angelo -might be stifled--the musical gift of a Chopin doomed to eternal -silence. - -Mr. Partridge's belief in the latent possibilities in our common -children went to my heart, because I had known Anton Zabrinski; and yet -I can never think of Anton Zabrinski as a common child. - -The story of his life is brief; but his few years enclosed the circle of -childhood, youth, aspiration, hope, horror, tragedy, pain, and death; -and all the beautiful possibilities of his outward life were blighted. - -Anton's home was in the west side of Chicago, in that region where -successive unpronounceable names above doors and across windows assure -one that Poland is not lost but scattered. - -In back rooms in the third story of the house lived the Zabrinski -family, the father and mother with Anton and his sister two years -younger. The mother was terribly crippled from an accident in childhood, -and was practically a prisoner in her home. Anton, her only son, was the -idol of her heart. - -When scarcely more than a child Anton began work tailoring. He learned -rapidly, and when sixteen years old was so skilful a worker that he -earned twelve dollars a week. This energy and skill, accuracy of -perception and sureness of touch, gave evidence of a fine organization. -His was an elastic, joyous nature, but his growth was stunted, his whole -physique frail; sensitive and shy, he shrank with nervous timidity from -contact with the stronger, rougher, coarser-fibred boys of the -neighborhood. Naturally this served only to make Anton a more tempting -target for their jokes. - -Two of these boys in particular played upon his fears until they became -an actual terror in his existence; though the boys doubtless never -imagined the torture they were inflicting, nor dreamed that he really -believed they intended to injure him. It happened one evening that Anton -was going home alone from an entertainment, when these two boys suddenly -jumped out from some hiding-place and seized him, probably intending -only to frighten him. Frighten him they did, out of all bounds and -reason. In his frantic efforts to get away from them Anton opened his -pocket-knife and struck out blindly. But in this act of self-defence he -mortally wounded one of the boys. - -Anton Zabrinski did not go back to his mother that night; this gentle, -industrious boy, doing the work and earning the wages of a man, had -become, in the eye of the law, a murderer. I have written "in the eye of -the law"; a more accurate statement would be "in the eye of the court," -for under fair construction of the law this could only have been a case -of manslaughter; but---- - -I once asked one of Chicago's most eminent judges why in clear cases of -manslaughter so many times men were charged with murder and tried for -murder. The judge replied: "Because it is customary in bringing an -indictment to make the largest possible net in which to catch the -criminal." - -Anton Zabrinski had struck out with his knife in the mere animal -instinct of self-defence. The real moving force of evil in the tragedy -was the love of cruel sport actuating the larger boys--a passion leading -to innumerable crimes. Were the moral origin of many of our crimes laid -bare we should clearly see that the final act of violence was but a -result--the rebound of an evil force set in motion from an opposite -direction. It sometimes happens that it is the slayer who is the victim -of the slain. But to the dead, who have passed beyond the need of our -mercy, we are always merciful. - -Had an able lawyer defended Anton he never would have been convicted on -the charge of murder; but the family was poor, and, having had no -experience with the courts, ignorantly expected fairness and justice. -Anton was advised to plead guilty to the charge of murder, and was given -to understand that if he did so the sentence would be light. Throwing -himself upon "the mercy of the court," the boy pleaded "guilty." He was -informed that "the mercy of the court" would inflict the sentence of -imprisonment for life. It chanced that in the court-room another judge -was present whose sense of justice, as well as of mercy, was outraged by -this severity. Moved with compassion for the undefended victim he -protested against the impending sentence and induced the presiding judge -to reduce it to thirty years. Thirty years! A lifetime indeed to the -imagination of a boy of seventeen. The crippled mother, with her heart -torn asunder, was left in the little back room where she lived, while -Anton was taken to Joliet penitentiary. - -It did not seem so dreadful when first it came in sight--that great -gray-stone building, with its broad, hospitable entrance through the -warden house; but when the grated doors closed behind him with -relentless metallic clang, in that sound Anton realized the death-knell -of freedom and happiness. And later when, for the first night, the boy -found himself alone in a silent, "solitary"[8] cell, then came the -agonizing homesickness of a loving young heart torn from every natural -tie. Actually but two hours distant was home, the little back room -transfigured to a heaven through love and the yearning cry of his heart; -but the actual two hours had become thirty years of prison in the -future. The prison life itself was but a dumb, unshapen dread in his -imagination. And the unmeaning mystery and cruelty and horror of his -fate! Why, his whole life covered but seventeen years, of which memory -could recall not more than twelve; he knew they were years of -innocence, and then years of faithful work and honest aims until that -one night of horror, when frightened out of his senses he struck wildly -for dear life. And then he had become that awful thing, a murderer, and -yet without one thought of murder in his heart. If God knew or cared, -how could he have let it all happen? And now he must repent or he never -could be forgiven. And yet how could he repent, when he had meant to do -no wrong; when his own quivering agony was surging through heart and -mind and soul; when he was overwhelmed with the black irrevocableness of -it all, and the sense of the dark, untrodden future? One night like -that, it holds the sufferings of an ordinary lifetime. - -We who have reached our meridian know that life means trial and -disappointment, but to youth the bubble glows with prismatic color; and -to Anton it had all been blotted into blackness through one moment of -deadly fear. - -When young convicts are received at Joliet penitentiary it is customary -for the warden to give them some chance for life and for development -physically and mentally. They are usually given light work, either as -runners for the shops or helpers in the kitchens or dining-rooms, where -they have exercise, fresh air, and some variety in employment. Anton -came to the prison when there was a temporary change of wardens, and it -happened when he was taken from the "solitary" cell where he passed the -first night that he was put to work in the marble-shop, a hard place for -a full-grown man. He was given also a companion in his cell when -working-hours were over. - -As he became fully adjusted to prison life he learned a curious thing: -on the outside crime had been the exception, a criminal was looked upon -as one apart from the community; but in this strange, unnatural prison -world it was crime which formed the common basis of equality, the tie of -brotherhood. - -And again, the tragedy of his own fate, which had seemed to him to fill -the universe, lost its horrible immensity in his imagination as he came -to realize that every man wearing that convict suit bore in his heart -the wound or the scar of tragedy or of wrong inflicted or experienced. -He had believed that nothing could be so terrible as to be separated -from home and loved ones; but learned to wonder if it were not more -terrible never to have known loved ones or home. - -When his cell-mate estimated the "good time" allowance on a sentence of -thirty years, Anton found that by good behavior he could reduce this -sentence to seventeen years. That really meant something to live for. He -thought he should be almost an old man if he lived to be -thirty-three--something like poor old Peter Zowar who had been in prison -twenty-five years; but no prisoner had ever lived there thirty years; -and this reduction to seventeen years meant to Anton the difference -between life and death. Even the seventeen years' distance from home -began to be bridged when his sister Nina came to see him, bringing him -the oranges and bananas indelibly associated with the streets of -Chicago, or cakes made by his own mother's hands and baked in the oven -at home. - -Life in prison became more endurable, too, when he learned that -individual skill in every department of work was recognized, and that -sincerity and faithfulness counted for something even in a community of -criminals. Praise was rare, communication in words was limited to the -necessities of work; but in some indefinable way character was -recognized and a friendly attitude made itself felt and warmed the -heart; and the nature so sensitive to harshness was quick to perceive -and to respond to kindness. - -It is hard to be in prison when a boy, but the older convicts regard -these boys with compassion, touched by something in them akin to their -own lost youth, or perhaps to children of their own. Little Anton looked -no older and was no larger than the average boy of fourteen; and to the -older men he seemed a child. - -Human nature is human nature, and youth is youth in spite of bolts and -bars. The springtime of life was repressed in Anton, but it was working -silently within him, and silently there was unfolding a power not given -to all of us. His work in the marble-shop was readily learned, for the -apprenticeship at tailoring had trained his eye and hand, and steadfast -application had become habitual. As his ability was recognized -ornamental work on marble was assigned him. At first he followed the -patterns as did the ordinary workmen; these designs suggested to him -others; then he obtained permission to work out the beautiful lines that -seemed always waiting to form themselves under his hand, and the -patterns were finally set aside altogether. The art impulse within him -was astir and finding expression, and as time passed he was frankly -recognized as the best workman in the shop. - -He was homesick still, always homesick, but fresh interest had come -into his existence, for unawares the spirit of beauty had come to be the -companion of his working-hours. He did not recognize her. He had never -heard of art impulses. But he found solid human pleasure and took simple -boyish pride in the individuality and excellence of his work. - -The first year and the second year of his imprisonment passed: the days -dawning, darkening, and melting away, as like to one another as beads -upon a string, each one counted into the past at night as meaning one -day less of imprisonment. But toward the end of the second year the -hours began to drag interminably, and Anton's interest in his work -flagged. He became restless, the marble dust irritated his lungs, and a -cough, at first unnoticed, increased until it constantly annoyed him. -Then his rest at night was broken by pain in his side, and at last the -doctor ordered him to be removed from the marble-shop. It was a frail -body at best, and the confinement, the unremitting work, the total lack -of air and exercise had done their worst; and all resisting physical -power was undermined. - -No longer able to work, Anton was relegated to the "idle room." Under -the wise rule of recent wardens the idle room has happily become a thing -of the past, but for years it was a feature of the institution, owing -partly to limited hospital accommodations. By the prisoners generally -this idle room, called by them the "dreary room," was looked upon as the -half-way station between the shops and the grave. Most cheerless and -melancholy was this place where men too far gone in disease to work, men -worn out in body and broken in spirit, waited together day after day -until their maladies developed sufficiently for them to be considered -fit subjects for hospital care. Usually no reading-matter was allowed, -and free social intercourse was of course forbidden, although the -inmates occasionally indulged in the luxury of comparing diseases. Under -the strain of that deadening monotony courage failed, and to many a man -indifferent to his own fate the sight of the hopelessness of others was -heart-breaking. The influence of the idle room was not quite so -depressing when Anton came within its circle, for a light industry had -just been introduced there, and some of the inmates were employed. - -And at this time Anton was beginning to live in a day-dream. His -cell-mate, a young man serving a twenty years' sentence, was confidently -expecting a pardon; pardons became the constant theme of talk between -the two when the day was over, and Anton's faith in his own possible -release kindled and glowed with the brightening prospects of his friend. -Hope, that strange characteristic of tuberculosis, flamed the higher as -disease progressed; with the hectic flush there came into his eyes a -more brilliant light, and a stronger power to look beyond the prison to -dear liberty and home. Even the shadow of the idle room could not dim -the light of his imagination. No longer able to carve his fancies on -stone, he wove them into beautiful patterns for life in freedom. The -hope of a pardon is in the air in every prison. Anton wrote to his -family and talked with his sister about it, and though he made no -definite beginning every day his faith grew stronger. - -It was at this time that I met Anton. I was visiting at the -penitentiary, and during a conversation with a young English convict, a -semi-protégé of Mary Anderson, the actress, this young man said to me: -"I wish you knew my cell-mate." I replied that I already knew too many -men in that prison. "But if you would only see little Anton I know _you -would be mashed in a minute_," the Englishman confidently asserted. As -to that probability I was sceptical, but I was impressed by the -earnestness of the young man as he sketched the outline of Anton's story -and urged me to see him. I remember that he made a point of this: "The -boy is so happy thinking that he will get a pardon sometime, but he will -die here if somebody doesn't help him soon." To gratify the Englishman I -consented to see the happy boy who was in danger of dying. - -An attractive or interesting face is rare among the inmates of our -prisons. The striped convict suit, which our so-called Christian -civilization so long inflicted upon fellow men, in itself gave an air of -degradation,[9] and the repression of all animation tends to produce an -expression of almost uniform dulness. Notwithstanding his cell-mate's -enthusiasm I was thrilled with surprise, and something deeper than -surprise, when I saw Anton Zabrinski. The beauty of that young Polish -prisoner shone like a star above the degrading convict suit. It was the -face of a Raphael, with the broad brow and the large, luminous, -far-apart eyes of darkest blue, suggesting in their depths all the -beautiful repressed possibilities--eyes radiant with hope and with -childlike innocence and trust. My heart was instantly vibrant with -sympathy, and we were friends with the first hand-clasp. The artistic -temperament was as evident in the slender, highly developed hands as in -his face. - -At a glance I saw that his fate was sealed; but his spirit of hope was -irresistible and carried me on in its own current for the hour. Anton -was like a happy child, frankly and joyfully opening his heart to a -friend whom he seemed always to have known. That bright hour was -unclouded by any dark forebodings in regard to illness or an obdurate -governor. We talked of pardon and freedom and home and happiness. I did -not speak to him of repentance or preparation for death. I felt that -when the summons came to that guileless spirit it could only be a -summons to a fuller life. - -During our interview the son of the new warden came in, and I called his -attention to Anton. It was charming to see the cordial, friendly fashion -in which this young man[10] talked to the prisoner, asking where he -could be found and promising to do what he could for him, while Anton -felt that at last he was touching the hand of Providence. The new -authorities had not been there long enough to know many of the convicts -individually, but at dinner that day the warden's son interested his -father in Anton by recounting their conversation that morning. The -warden's always ready sympathy was touched. "Take the boy out of that -idle room," he said, "take him around the yard with you to see the dogs -and horses." This may not have been discipline, but it was delightfully -human--and humanizing. - -When I left the prison I was assured that I could depend upon the -warden's influence in furthering my purpose of realizing Anton's dream, -his faith and hope of pardon. The following Sunday in Chicago I found -the Zabrinski family, father, mother, and the young sister, in their -third-story back rooms. On the wall hung a framed photograph of Anton as -a little child. The mother did not speak very clear English, but she -managed to repeat, over and over again: "Anton was so good; always he -was such a good boy." The young sister, a tailoress, very trim in her -dark-blue Sunday gown, discussed intelligently ways and means of -obtaining her brother's release. - -Our plans worked smoothly, and a few weeks later, when all Chicago was -given over to the World's Fair, the desire of Anton's heart came true -and he was restored to home and freedom. Or, as the newspapers would -have put it: "Our anarchist governor let loose another murderer to prey -upon society." Poor little murderer! In all that great city there was no -child more helpless or harmless than he. - -The image of little Anton Zabrinski, as of the prison itself, grew faint -in my heart for the time, under the spell of the long enchanting summer -days and magical evenings at the White City. - -The interest and the beauty of that fusion of all times and all -countries was so absorbing and irresistible that I had stayed on and on -until one day in July when I braced myself for the wrench of departure -next morning. But the evening mail brought me letters from home and -among them one forwarded from Anton, entreating me to come and see him. -I had not counted on being remembered by Anton except as a milestone on -his path toward freedom--I might have counted on it, however, after my -many experiences of the gratitude of prisoners--but his longing to see -me was unmistakable; and as I had broken my word so many times about -going home that my reputation for unreliability in that direction could -not be lowered, I sent a final telegram of delay.--Oh, luxury of having -no character to lose! - -The next morning I took an early start for the home of the Zabrinskis. -In a little back yard--a mere patch of bare ground without the -possibility of a blade of grass, with no chance of even looking at the -sky unless one lay on one's back, with uniform surroundings of back -doors and back stairs--what a contrast to that dream of beauty at -Jackson Park!--here it was that I found Anton, listlessly sitting on a -bench with a little dog as companion. All hope and animation seemed to -have died out within him; even the lights in his deep-blue eyes had -given way to shadows; strength and courage had ebbed away, and he had -yielded at last to weariness and depression. He had left the prison, -indeed, but only to face death; he had come back to his home, only to be -carried away from it forever. Even his mother's loving care could not -stop that racking cough nor free him from pain. And how limited the -longed-for freedom proved! It had reached out from his home only to the -hospital dispensary. Weakness and poverty formed impassable barriers -beyond which he could not go. - -As I realized all this I resolved to give him the most lovely vision in -the world to think of and to dream of. "Anton," I said, "how would you -like to take a steamer and go on the lake with me to see the World's -Fair from the water?"--for him to attempt going on the grounds was not -to be thought of. - -For a moment he shrank from the effort of getting to the steamer, but -after considering it for a while in silence he announced: "When I make -up my mind that I will do a thing, I do it; I will go with you." Then we -unfolded our plan for adventure to the mother. Rather wild she thought -it, but our persuasive eloquence won the day and she consented, -insisting only that we should partake of refreshments before starting on -our expedition. With the connivance of a neighbor on the next floor Mrs. -Zabrinski obtained a delicious green-apple pie from a bakery near by and -served it for our delectation. - -I find that already the noble lines, with their beautiful lights and -shadows, in the Court of Honor of the White City are blending into an -indistinct memory; but the picture of Anton Zabrinski as he leaned back -in his chair on the steamer, breathing the delicious pure, fresh air, -sweeping his glance across the boundless plain of undulating blue, will -be with me forever. Here at last was freedom! And how eagerly the boy's -perishing being drank it in! - -There was everything going on around us to divert and amuse: crowds of -people, of course, and a noisy band of musicians; but it all made no -impression upon Anton. We two were practically alone with the infinite -sky and the far-stretching water. It was easy then for Anton to tell me -of his deeper thoughts, and to speak of the change that he knew was -coming soon. Life had been so hard, only fruitless effort and a losing -battle, and now he longed only for rest. He had felt the desire to give -expression to beautiful form, he had felt the stirring of undeveloped -creative power. We spoke of the future not as death but as the coming of -new life and as the opportunity for the fair unfolding of all the higher -possibilities of his nature--as freedom from all fetters. His faith, -simple but serious, rested upon his consciousness of having, in his -inmost soul, loved and sought the good. His outward life was hopelessly -wrecked; but he was going away from that, and it was his soul, his true -inner life, that would appear before God. It was all a mystery and he -was helpless, but he was not afraid. _He had forgiven life._ - -As we talked together the steamer neared the pier at Jackson Park. "And -now, Anton, you must go to the other side of the boat and see the -beautiful White City," I said. It was like alabaster in its clear -loveliness that radiant morning, and all alive with the lilting colors -of innumerable flags. It was Swedish day, and a most gorgeous procession -in national costume thronged the dock as our steamer approached, for we -had on board some important delegation. A dozen bands were playing and -the grand crash of sound and the brilliant massing of color thrilled me -to my fingertips. But Anton only looked at it for a moment with unseeing -eyes: it was too limited; it was the stir and sound and crowd of the -city. He turned again eagerly to the great sweep of sky and water; "You -don't know what this lake and this fresh air are to me," he said -quietly, and he looked no more toward the land until we had returned to -Van Buren Street. - -After we left the steamer Anton threw off the spell of the water. He -insisted on my taking a glass of soda with him from one of the fountains -on the dock; it was his turn to be entertainer now. I drank the soda and -live to tell the tale. By that time we had caught the bohemian spirit of -the World's Fair, Anton was revived and excited by the hour on the -water, and as we crossed over to Michigan Avenue the brilliant life of -the street attracted and charmed him, and I proposed walking slowly down -to the Auditorium Hotel. Every step of the way was a delight to Anton, -and when we reached the great hotel I waited in the ladies' -reception-room while Anton strolled through the entrances and office, -looking at the richly blended tones of the marbles and the decoration in -white and gold. I knew that it would be one more fresh and lovely memory -for him to carry back to the little rooms where the brief remnant of his -life was to be spent. - -At an adjoining flower-stand we found sweet peas for his mother. I saw -him safely on board the car that would take him to his home; then, with -a parting wave of his hand and a bright, happy smile of farewell, little -Anton Zabrinski passed out of my sight. - -Through the kindness of a friend I had the very great happiness of -sending Anton a pass, "For bearer and one," that gave him, with an -escort, the freedom of the World's Fair steamers for the summer--the -greatest possible boon to the boy, for even when too weak to go to the -steamer he could still cherish the expectation of that delight. - -Anton's strength failed rapidly. He wrote me one letter saying: "I can -die happy now that I am with my mother. I thank you a thousand times -over and over for your kind feeling towards me and the kind words in -your letters, and the charming rose you sent. I cannot write a long -letter on account of my pains through my whole chest. I can't turn -during the night from one side to another. Dear Friend, I don't like to -tell my misery and sorrows to persons, but I can't help telling you." - -Another letter soon followed, but not from Anton. It was the sister who -wrote: - - - "DEAR FRIEND: - - "With deep sorrow I inform you of my dear brother's death. He died - at four o'clock in the morning. He had a great desire to see you - before he died. We should be glad to see you at the funeral if - convenient Wednesday morning. - - "Pardon this poor letter - "from your loving friend - "MISS NINA ZABRINSKI." - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[8] These "solitary" cells in which a prisoner passed his first night -were in a detached building in which the punishment cells were located. -The solitude was absolute and terrible. - -[9] The striped convict suit was practically abolished at Joliet the -following year. - -[10] This young man, Edmund M. Allen, is now warden of this same prison, -and has so developed the humanizing methods of his father as to bring -Joliet penitentiary into the front rank of progressive prison reform. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -On a lovely evening some thirty years ago there was a jolly wedding at -the home of a young Irish girl in a Western city. Tom Evans, the groom, -a big-hearted, jovial fellow, was deeply in love with the girl of his -choice. He was earning good wages and he intended to take good care of -his wife. - -It was midnight, and the streets were flooded with brilliant moonlight -when Evans started to take his bride from her home to his, accompanied -on the way by Jim Maguire, Larry Flannigan, and Ned Foster, three of the -wedding guests. They were not carriage folks and were walking to the -street-car when Jim Maguire, who had not been averse to the exhilarating -liquids in hospitable circulation at the wedding feast, became unduly -hilarious and disported himself with song and dance along the -sidewalk--a diversion in which the others took no part. This hilarity -was summarily interrupted by a policeman, who attempted to arrest the -young man for disorderly conduct, a proceeding vigorously resisted by -Maguire. - -This was the beginning of an affray in which the policeman was killed, -and the whole party were arrested and taken into custody. As the -policeman was well known, one of the most popular men on the force, -naturally public indignation ran high and the feeling against his -slayers was bitter and violent. - -Tom Evans and Jim Maguire were held for murder, while Larry Flannigan, a -boy of seventeen, and Ned Foster, as participants in the affair, were -charged with manslaughter. The men were given fair trials--separate -trials, I believe--in different courts, but it was impossible to get at -the facts of the case, as there were no actual witnesses outside of -those directly affected by the outcome; while each lawyer for the -defence did his best to clear his own client from direct responsibility -for the death of the policeman, regardless of the deserts of the others -under accusation. - -And so it came to pass that Jim Maguire and Tom Evans were "sent up" for -life, while the bride of an hour returned to her father's house and in -the course of time became the bride of another. Larry Flannigan was -sentenced to fourteen years' imprisonment. Ned Foster, having served a -shorter sentence, was released previous to my acquaintance with the -others. - -Some five years later one of the prison officers interested in Jim -Maguire asked me to interview the man. Maguire was a tall, muscular -fellow, restive under confinement as a hound in leash; nervous, too, and -with abounding vitality ready at a moment's notice again to break out in -song and dance if only the chance were given. This very overcharge of -high animal spirits, excited by the wedding festivities, was the -starting-point of all the tragedy. No doubt, too, in his make-up there -were corresponding elements of recklessness and defiance. - -Our first interview was the beginning of an acquaintance resulting in an -interchange of letters; but it was not until a year afterward that in a -long conversation Maguire gave me an account of his part in the midnight -street encounter. Admitting disorderly conduct and resistance against -the officer, he claimed that it was resistance only and not a counter -attack; stating that the struggle between the two continued until the -officer had the upper hand and then continued beating him into -subjection so vigorously that Maguire called for help and was rescued -from the hands of the officer by "one of the other boys." He did not say -which one nor further implicate any one. - -"Ask the other boys," he said. "Larry didn't have anything to do with -the killing, but he saw the whole thing. Get Larry to tell the story," -he urged. - -And so I was introduced to Larry. He was altogether of another type from -Maguire. I hardly knew whether he wore the convict stripes or broadcloth -when I was looking into that face, so sunny, so kindly, so frank. After -all these years I can never think of Larry without a glow in my heart. -He alone, of all my prisoners, appeared to have no consciousness of -degradation, of being a convict; but met me simply and naturally as if -we had been introduced at a picnic. - -I told him of my interview with Jim Maguire and his immediate comment -was: "Jim ought not to be here; he resisted arrest but he did not kill -the officer; he's here for life and it's wrong, it's terrible. I hope -you will do something for Jim." - -"But what of yourself?" I asked; "you seem to have been outside of the -affair altogether. I think I'd better do something for you." - -"Oh, no!" he protested, "you can get one man out easier than two. I -want to see Jim out, and I don't want to stand in his way. You know I am -innocent, and all my friends believe me innocent, and I'm young and well -and can stand my sentence; it will be less than ten years with good time -off. My record is perfect and I shall get along all right. But Jim is -here for life." - -I felt as if I were dreaming. I knew it would be a simple matter to -obtain release for Larry, who had already been there six years, but no, -the boy would not consider that, would not even discuss it. His thought -was all for Jim, and he was unconscious of self-sacrifice. He simply set -aside what seemed to him the lesser good in order to secure the greater. - -"Did you ever make a full statement in court?" I asked. - -"No. We were only allowed to answer direct questions in the -examinations. None of us were given a chance to tell the straight -story." - -"So the straight story never came out at any of the trials?" - -"No." - -Thinking it high time that the facts of a case in which two men were -suffering imprisonment for life should be ascertained and put on record -somewhere, it then remained for me to interview Evans, and to see how -nearly the statements of the three men agreed, each given to me in -private six years after the occurrence of the event. - -Tom Evans--I see him now clearly as if it were but yesterday--a -thick-set, burly figure with an intelligent face of good lines and -strong character; a man of force who from his beginning as brakesman -might have worked his way up to superintending a railroad, had the plan -of his destiny been different. - -I told him frankly that I had asked to see him in the interest of the -other two, and that what I wanted first of all was to get the facts of -the case, for the tragedy was still a "case" to me. - -"And you want me to tell the story?" I felt the vibration of restrained -emotion in the man from the first as he pictured the drama enacted in -that midnight moonlight. - -"I had just been married and we were going to my home. The streets were -light as day. Jim was singing and dancing, when the policeman seized -him. I saw there was going to be a fight and I made up my mind to keep -out of it; for when I let my temper go it gets away with me. So I stood -back with my girl. Jim called for help but I stood back till I really -believed Jim might be killed. I couldn't stand by and see a friend -beaten to death, or take any chance of that. And so I broke into the -fight. I got hold of the policeman's club and began to beat the -policeman. I am a strong man and I can strike a powerful blow." - -Here Evans paused, and there was silence between us until he said with a -change of tone and expression: - -"It was Larry who came to the help of the policeman and got the club -away from me. It's Larry that ought to be out. Jim made the trouble and -I killed the policeman, but Larry is wholly innocent. He is the one I -want to see out." - -At last we were down to bed-rock; there was no doubt now of the facts -which the clumsy machinery of the courts had failed to reach. - -I assured Evans that I would gladly do what I could for Larry, and then -and there Evans and I joined hands to help "the other boys." I realized -something of the sacrifice involved when I asked Evans if he was willing -to make a sworn statement in the presence of the warden of the facts he -had given me. What a touchstone of the man's nature! But he was -following the lead of truth and justice and there was no turning back. - -We all felt that it was a serious transaction in the warden's office -next day when Evans came in and, after a little quiet conversation with -the warden, made and signed a statement to the effect that he, and he -only, struck the blows that killed the policeman, and with hand on the -Bible made oath to the truth of the statement, which was then signed, as -witnesses, by the warden and a notary. - -As Evans left the office the warden said to me: "Something ought to be -done for that man also when the other boys are out." - -I knew that in securing this confession I had committed myself to all -the necessary steps involved before the prison doors could be opened to -Maguire and Larry. And in my heart I was already pledged to befriend the -man who, with unflinching courage, had imperilled his own chances of -liberation in favor of the others; for I was now beginning to regard -Evans as the central figure in the tragedy. - -It is no brief nor simple matter to obtain the release of a man -convicted of murder by the court and sentenced to life imprisonment -unless one has political influence strong enough to override all -obstacles. Almost endless are the delays likely to occur and the details -to be worked out before one has in hand all the threads necessary to be -woven into the fabric of a petition for executive clemency. - -In order to come directly in touch with the families of Larry and -Maguire, and with the competent lawyer already enlisted in their service -and now in possession of the statement of Evans, I went to the city -where the crime was committed. The very saddest face that I had seen in -connection with this affair was the face of Maguire's widowed mother. -She was such a little woman, with spirit too crushed and broken by -poverty and the fate of her son to revive even at the hope of his -release. It was only the ghost of a smile with which she greeted me; but -when we parted her gratitude called down the blessings of all the saints -in the calendar to follow me all my days. - -Larry's people I found much the same sort as he, cheerful, generous, -bravely meeting their share of the hard luck that had befallen him, -apparently cherishing the treasure of his innocence more than resenting -the injustice, but most grateful for any assistance toward his -liberation. The lawyer who had interviewed Larry and Maguire at the -penitentiary expressed amazement at what he called "the unbelievable -unselfishness" of Larry. "I did not suppose it possible to find that -spirit anywhere, last of all in a prison," he said. Larry had consented -to be included on the petition drawn up for Maguire only when convinced -that it would not impair Maguire's chances. - -When I left the place the lines appeared to be well laid for the smooth -running of our plans. I do not now remember what prevented the -presentation of the petition for commutation of both sentences to -twelve[11] years; but more than a year passed before the opportune time -seemed to be at hand. - -During this interval Evans was by no means living always in -disinterested plans for the benefit of the others. The burden of his own -fate hung heavily over him and no one in the prison was more athirst for -freedom than he. In books from the prison library he found some -diversion, and when tired of fiction he turned to philosophy, seeking to -apply its reasoning to his own hard lot; again, he sought in the poets -some expression and interpretation of his own feelings. It was in the -ever welcome letters that he found most actual pleasure, but he -encountered difficulties in writing replies satisfactory to himself. In -a letter now before me he says: - -"I only wish that I could write as I feel, then indeed would you receive -a gem; but I can't, more's the pity. But I can peruse and cherish your -letters, and if I dare I would ask you to write oftener. Just think, the -idea strikes me that I am writing to an _authorous_, me that never could -spell a little bit. But the authorous is my friend, is she not, and will -overlook this my defect. I have done the best I could to write a nice -letter and I hope it will please you, but, in the words of Byron, - - - "'What is writ is writ: - Would it were worthier. But I am not now - That which I have been, and my visions flit - Less palpably before me, and the glow - Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering faint and low.' - - -"With the last line of your letter I close, 'write soon, will you not?'" - -Evans's letters to me were infrequent, as he kept in correspondence with -his lawyers, who encouraged him to hope that he would not spend all his -life behind the bars. Others, too, claimed his letters. He writes me: - -"I have a poor old mother who expects and always gets my Christmas -letters, but I resolved that you should have my first New Years letter, -so here it is, wishing you a happy new year and many of them. No doubt -you had many Christmas letters from here telling you of the time we had, -and a _jolly good time_ it was. It is awfully dark here in the cells to -day and I can hardly see the lines to write on. I hope you won't have as -much trouble in reading it." The handwriting in Evans's letters is -vigorous, clear, and open; a straightforward, manly hand, without frills -or flourishes. - -Just as I was leaving home for one of my semi-annual visits to the -penitentiary, I had information from their lawyer that the petition for -Maguire and Larry would be presented to the governor the following -month. Very much elated with the good news I was bringing I asked first -for an interview with Evans. He came in, evidently in very good spirits, -but as I proceeded to relate with enthusiasm what we had accomplished I -felt an increasing lack of response on the part of Evans and saw the -light fading from his face. - -"O Miss Taylor," he said at last, with such a note of pain in his voice, -"you know my lawyers have been working for me all this time. Of course I -told them of the statement I made in the warden's office, and then left -the case in their hands. One of them was here yesterday and has a -petition now ready asking that my sentence be reduced to fifteen years. -Now if the other petition goes in first----" - -There was no need to finish the sentence for the conflict of interests -was clear; and Evans was visibly unnerved. We talked together for a long -time. While unwilling to influence his decision I realized that, if his -petition should have first consideration and be granted, the value of -that confession, so important to the others, would be impaired, and the -chances of Maguire's release lessened; for the governors are wary in -accepting as evidence the confession of a man who has nothing to lose. -On the other hand, I had not the heart to quench the hopes that Evans's -lawyers had kindled. And in answer to his question, "What shall I do?" I -could only say: "That is for you to decide." - -At last Evans pulled himself together enough to say: "Well, I'm not -going back on the boys now. I didn't realize just how my lawyers' -efforts were going to affect them. I'm going to leave the matter in your -hands, for I know you will do what is right." And this he insisted on. - -"Whatever course may seem best to take now, Tom, after this I shall -never rest till I see you, too, out of prison," was my earnest -assurance. - -There had been such a spirit of fair play among these men that I next -laid the case before Maguire and Larry, and we three held a consultation -as to the best line of action. They, too, appreciated the generosity of -Evans and realized, far more than I could, what it might cost him. -Doubtless each one of the three felt the strong pull of self-interest; -but there was no faltering in their unanimous choice of a square deal -all around. One thing was clear, the necessity of bringing about an -understanding and concerted action between the lawyers whose present -intentions so seriously conflicted. The advice and moral support of the -warden had been invaluable to me, and he and I both felt, if the lawyers -could be induced to meet at the prison and consult not only with each -other but with their three clients, if they could only come in direct -touch with these convicts and realize that they were men who wanted to -do the right thing and the fair thing, that a petition could be drawn -placing Evans and Maguire on the same footing, and asking the same -reduction of sentence for both; while Larry in justice was entitled to a -full pardon. I still believe that if this course had been taken both -petitions would have been granted. But lawyers in general seem to have a -constitutional aversion to short cuts and simple measures, and Evans's -lawyers made no response to any overtures toward co-operation. - -At about this time occurred a change in the State administration, with -the consequent inevitable delay in the consideration of petitions for -executive clemency; as it was considered impolitic for the newly elected -governor to begin his career by hasty interference with the decision of -the courts, or too lenient an attitude toward convicts. - -Then ensued that period of suspense which seems fairly to corrode the -heart and nerves of the long-time convict. The spirit alternates between -the fever of hope and the chill of despair. Men pray then who never -prayed before. The days drag as they never dragged before; and when -evening comes the mind cannot occupy itself with books while across the -printed page the same questions are ever writing themselves: "Shall I -hear to-morrow?" "Will the governor grant or refuse my petition?" One -closes the book only to enter the restless and wearisome night, -breathing the dead air of the prison cell, listening to the tread of the -guard in the corridor. Small wonder would it be if in those midnight -hours Evans cursed the day in which he declared that he alone killed the -policeman; but neither in his letters to me nor in his conversation was -there ever an indication of regret for that action. The Catholic -chaplain of the prison was truly a good shepherd and comforter to his -flock, and it was real spiritual help and support that he gave to the -men. His advice at the confessional may have been the seed from which -sprung Evans's resolve to clear his own conscience and exonerate the -others when the opportunity came. - -Maguire never fluctuated in his confidence that freedom was on the way, -but he was consumed with impatience; Larry alone, who never sought -release, bided his time in serene cheerfulness. - -And the powers that be accepted Larry's sacrifice; for so long was the -delay in the governor's office that Maguire was released on the day on -which Larry's sentence expired. The world looked very bright to Jim -Maguire and Larry Flannigan as they passed out of the prison doors into -liberty together. Maguire took up life again in his old environment, not -very successfully, I have reason to think. But Larry made a fresh start -in a distant city, unhampered by the fact that he was an ex-convict. - -It was then that the deadly blight of prison life began to throw its -pall over Evans, and the long nervous strain to undermine his health. He -wrote me: - -"I am still working at the old job, and I can say with truth that my -antipathy to it increases each day. I am sick and tired of writing to -lawyers for the last two years, and it amounted to nothing. I will -gladly turn the case over to you if you can do anything with it." - -The event proved that these lawyers were interested in their case, but -politically they were in opposition to the governor and had no -influence; nor did I succeed better in making the matter crystallize. - -I had always found Evans animated and interested in whatever we were -talking about until one interview when he had been in prison about -thirteen years, all that time on prison contract work. The change in his -appearance was evident when he came into the room. He seated himself -listlessly, and my heart sank, for too well I knew that dull apathy to -which the long-time men succumb. Now, knowing with what glad -anticipation he had formerly looked forward to our interviews, I was -determined that the hour should not pass without leaving some pleasant -memory; but it was twenty minutes or more before the cloud in his eyes -lifted and the smile with which he had always greeted me appeared. His -whole manner changed as he said: "Why, Miss Taylor, I am just waking up, -beginning to realize that you are here. My mind is getting so dull that -nothing seems to make any impression any more." He was all animation for -the rest of the time, eagerly drinking in the joy of sympathetic -companionship.--What greater joy does life give? - -But I had taken the alarm, for clearly the man was breaking down, and I -urged the warden to give him a change of work. The warden said he had -tried to arrange that; but Evans was on contract work, one of the best -men in the shop, and the contractors were unwilling to give up so -profitable a workman--the evils of the contract system have much to -answer for. So Evans continued to work on the contract, and the prison -blight progressed and the man's vitality was steadily drained. When the -next winter came and _la grippe_ invaded the prison, the resisting power -of Evans was sapped; and when attacked by the disease he was relegated -to the prison hospital to recuperate. He did not recuperate; on the -contrary, various symptoms of general physical deterioration appeared -and it was evident that his working days on the prison contract were -over. - -A renewed attempt was now made to procure the release of Evans, as his -broken health furnished a reason for urgency toward immediate action on -the part of the governor, and this last attempt was successful. The good -news was sent to Evans that in a month he would be a free man, and I was -at the prison soon after the petition was granted. I knew that Evans was -in the hospital, but had not been informed of his critical condition -until the hospital physician told me that serious heart trouble had -developed, intensified by excitement over the certainty of release. - -No shadow of death was visible or was felt in this my last visit with -Evans, who was dressed and sitting up when I went in to see him. Never, -never have I seen any one so happy as was Evans that morning. With heart -overflowing with joy and with gratitude, his face was radiant with -delight. All the old animation was kindled again, and the voice, no -longer lifeless, was colored and warm with feeling. - -"I want to thank everybody," he said, "the governor, my lawyers, the -warden, and you. Everybody has been so good to me these last weeks. And -I shall be home for next Sunday. My sister is coming to take me to her -home, and she and my mother will take care of me until I'm able to work. -Sister writes me that mother can't sit still, but walks up and down the -room in her impatience to see me." - -We two friends, who had clasped hands in the darkness of his fate, were -together now when the dawn of his freedom was breaking, neither of us -realizing that it was to be the greater freedom of the Life Invisible. - -To us both, however, this hour was the beautiful culmination of our -years of friendship. I read the man's heart as if it were an open book -and it held only good will toward all the world. - -Something moved me to speak to him as I had never spoken to one of my -prisoners, to try and make him feel my appreciation of his courage, his -unselfishness, his faithfulness. I told him that I realized how he had -_lived out_ the qualities of the most heroic soldier. To give one's life -for one's country when the very air is charged with the spirit of -patriotism is a fine thing and worthy of the thrill of admiration which -it always excites. But liberty is dearer than life, and the prison -atmosphere gives little inspiration to knightly deeds. This man had -risen above himself into that higher region of moral victory. And so I -said what was in my heart, while something deeper than happiness came -into Evans's face. - -And then we said good-by, smiling into each other's eyes. This happened, -I think, on the last day but one of Evans's life. - -Afterward it was told in the prison that Evans died of joy at the -prospect of release. For him to be carried into the new life on this -high tide of happiness seemed to me a gift from heaven. For in the -thought of the prisoner freedom includes everything to be desired in -life. The joy of that anticipation had blinded Evans to the fact that -his health was ruined beyond repair. He was spared the realization that -the life of freedom, so fair to his imagination, could never truly be -his; for the prison-house of disease has bolts and bars which no human -hand can withdraw. - -But that mother! If she could have read only once again the light of his -love for her in the eyes of her son! But the sorrows of life fall alike -upon the just and the unjust. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[11] The good time allowed on a twelve years' sentence reduces it to -seven years and three months. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -The psychological side of convict life is intensely interesting, but in -studying brain processes, supposed to be mechanical, one's theories and -one's logical conclusions are likely to be baffled by a factor that will -not be harnessed to any set of theories; namely, that _something which -we call conscience_. We forget that the criminal is only a human being -who has committed a crime, and that back of the crime is the same human -nature common to us all. - -During the first years when I was in touch with prison life I had only -occasional glimpses of remorse for crimes committed. The minds of most -of the convicts seemed to dwell on the "extenuating circumstances" more -than on the criminal act, and the hardships of prison life were almost -ever present in their thoughts. I had nearly come to consider the -remorse pictured in literature and the drama as an unreal thing, when I -made the acquaintance of Ellis Shannon and found it: a monster that -gripped the human heart and held it as in a vise. Nemesis never -completed a work of retribution more fully than it was completed in the -life of Ellis Shannon. - -Shannon was born in an Eastern city, was a boy of more than average -ability, and there seemed no reason why he should have gone wrong; but -he early lost his father, his mother failed to control him, and when -about sixteen years of age he fell into bad company and was soon -launched in his criminal career. He broke off all connection with his -family, went West, and for ten years was successful in his line of -business--regular burglary. He was widely known among men of his calling -as "The Greek," and his "professional standing" was of the highest. The -first I ever heard of him was from one of my other prison friends, who -wrote me: "If you want to know about life in ---- prison, write to Ellis -Shannon, who is there now. You can depend absolutely on what he -says--and when one professional says that of another you know it means -something." I did not, however, avail myself of this introduction. - -Shannon's reputation for cool nerve was undisputed, and it was said that -he did not know what fear was. In order to keep a clear head and steady -hand he refrained from dissipation; he prided himself upon never -endangering the lives of those whose houses he entered, and despised the -bunglers who did not know their business well enough to avoid personal -encounter in their midnight raids. Unlike most men of his calling he -always used a candle on entering a building, and his associates often -told him that sometime that candle would get him into trouble. - -One night the house of a prominent and popular citizen was entered. -While the burglar was pursuing his nefarious work the citizen suddenly -seized him by the shoulders, pulling him backward. The burglar managed -to fire backward over his own head, the citizen's hold was relaxed, and -the burglar fled. The shot proved fatal; the only trace left by the -assailant was a candle dropped on the floor. - -A reward was offered for the capture and conviction of the murderer. -Circumstantial evidence connected with the candle led to the arrest of -George Brett, a young man of the same town, not of the criminal class. -The verdict in the case turned upon the identification of the piece of -candle found in the house with one procured by the accused the previous -day; and in the opinion of the court this identification was proven. -Brett admitted having obtained a piece of candle from that grocer on -that afternoon, but claimed that he had used it in a jack-o'-lantern -made for a child in the family.[12] Proof was insufficient to convict -the man of the actual crime, but this bit of evidence, with some other -less direct, was deemed sufficiently incriminating to warrant sending -Brett to prison for a term of years--seventeen, I think; and though the -convicted man always asserted his innocence his guilt was taken for -granted while six years slipped by. - -Ellis Shannon, in the meantime, had been arrested for burglary in -another State and had served a sentence in another penitentiary. He -seemed to have lost his nerve, and luck had turned against him. On his -release still another burglary resulted in a ten years' sentence, this -time to the same prison where Brett was paying the penalty of the crime -in which the candle had played so important a part. - -The two convicts happened to have cells in the same part of the prison, -and for the first time Ellis Shannon came face to face with George -Brett. A few days later Shannon requested an interview with the warden. -In the warden's office he announced that he was the man guilty of the -crime for which Brett was suffering, and that Brett had no part in it. -He drew a sketch of the house burglarized--not altogether correct--gave -a succinct account of the whole affair, and declared his readiness to go -into court, plead guilty to murder, and accept the sentence, even to the -death penalty. Action on this confession was promptly taken. Shannon was -sent into court and on his confession alone was sentenced to -imprisonment for life. - -Brett was overjoyed by this vindication and the expectation of immediate -release. But, no; the prosecuting parties were unconvinced by Shannon's -confession, which, in their opinion, did not dispose of the evidence -against Brett. - -It was a curious state of affairs, and one perhaps never paralleled, -that, while a man's unsupported statement was considered sufficient to -justify the imposing of a sentence to life imprisonment, this statement -counted for nothing as affecting the fate of the other man involved. And -there was never a trace of collusion between the two men, either at the -time of the crime or afterward. - -Shannon's story of the crime I shall give in his own terse language, -quoted from his confession published in the newspapers: - -"Up to the time of killing Mr. ---- I had never even wounded anybody. I -had very little regard for the rights of property, but to shoot a man -dead at night in his own house was a climax of villainy I had not -counted on. A professional thief is not so blood-thirsty a wretch as he -is thought to be.... I am setting up no defense for the crime of murder -or burglary--it is all horrible enough. It was a miserable combination -of circumstances that caused the shooting that night. I was not feeling -well and so went into the house with my overcoat on--something I had -never done before. It was buttoned to the throat. I had looked at Mr. ----- a moment before and he was asleep. I had then turned and taken down -his clothes. I had a candle in one hand and the clothes in the other. I -would have left in a second of time when suddenly, before I could turn, -Mr. ---- spoke. As quick as the word he had his arms thrown around me; -the candle went out and we were in the dark. - -"Now I could hardly remember afterwards how it all occurred. There was -no time to think. I was helpless as a baby in the position in which I -was held. There is no time for reflection in a struggle like this. He -was holding me and I was struggling to get away. I told him several -times to let go or I'd shoot. I was nearly crazy with excitement and it -was simply the animal instinct of self-preservation that caused me to -fire the shots. - -"I was so weak when I got outside that in running I fell down two or -three times. That night in Chicago I was in hopes the man was only -wounded, and in that case I had determined to quit the business. When I -read the account in the papers next morning all I can say is that, -although I was in the city and perfectly safe, with as little chance of -being discovered as if I were in another planet, I would have taken my -chances--whether it would have been five or twenty years for the -burglary--if it were only in my power to do the thing over again. I did -not much care what I did after this. I thought I could be no worse than -I was. - -"In a few months I was arrested and got five years for a burglary in -----. I read what I could of the trial from what papers I could get; and -for the first time I saw what a deadly web circumstances and the -conceit of human shrewdness can weave around an innocent man. - -"The trial went on. I did not open my mouth. I knew that if I said a -word and went into court fresh from the penitentiary I would certainly -be hanged, and I had not reached a point when I was ready to sacrifice -my life for a stranger. - -"In the feverish life I led in the short time out of prison I forgot all -about this, until I found myself here for ten years and then I thought: -there is a man in this prison doing hard work, eating coarse food, -deprived of everything that makes life worth having, and suffering for a -crime of which he knows as little as the dust that is yet to be created -to fill these miserable cells. I thought what a hell the place must be -to him. - -"No one has worked this confession out of me. I wish to implicate no -one, but myself. If you will not believe what I say now, and ---- stays -in prison, it is likely the truth will never be known. But if in the -future the man who was with me that night will come to the front, -whether I am alive or dead, you will find that what I have told you is -as true as the law of gravitation. I was never in the town of ---- -before that time or since. I did not know whom I had killed until I -read of it. I do not know ---- (Brett) or any of his friends. But I do -know that he is perfectly innocent of the crime he is in prison for. I -know it better than any one in the world because I committed the crime -myself." - -The position of Brett was not affected in the least by this confession, -though his family were doing all in their power to secure his release. -The case was considered most difficult of solution. The theory of -delusion on Shannon's part was advanced and was accepted by those who -believed Brett guilty, but received no credence among the convicts who -knew Shannon and the burglar associated with him at the time the crime -was committed. - -I had never sought the acquaintance of a "noted criminal" before, but -this case interested me and I asked to see Shannon. For the first time I -felt myself at a disadvantage in an interview with a convict. A sort of -aloofness seemed to form the very atmosphere of his personality, and -though he sat near me it was with face averted and downcast eyes; the -face seemed cut in marble, it was so pale and cold, with clear-cut, -regular features, suggesting a singular appropriateness in his being -known as "The Greek." - -I opened conversation with some reference to the newspaper reports; -Shannon listened courteously but with face averted and eyes downcast, -and then in low, level tones, but with a certain incisiveness, he -entered upon the motive which led to his confession, revealing to me -also his own point of view of the situation. Six years had passed since -the crime was committed, and all that time, he said, he had believed -that, if he could bring himself to confess, Brett would be cleared--that -during these six years the murder had become a thing of the past, -partially extenuated in his mind, on the ground of self-defence; but -when he found himself in the same prison with Brett, here was a result -of his crime, living, suffering; and in the depths of Shannon's own -conscience pleading for vindication and liberty. As a burden on his own -soul the murder might have been borne in silence between himself and his -Creator, but as a living curse on another it demanded confession. And -the desire to right that wrong swept through his being with -overmastering force. - -"I had always believed," he said, "that 'truth crushed to earth would -rise again,' and I was willing to give my life for truth; but I learned -that the word of a convict is nothing--truth in a convict counts for -nothing." - -The man had scarcely moved when he told me all this, and he sat like a -statue of despair when he relapsed into silence--still with downcast -eyes; I was absolutely convinced of the truth of what he had told me, of -the central truth of the whole affair, his guilt and his consciousness -of the innocence of the other man. That his impressions of some of the -details of the case might not square with known facts was of secondary -importance; to me the _internal evidence_ was convincing. Isn't there -something in the Bible to the effect that "spirit beareth witness unto -spirit"? At all events, _sometimes a woman knows_. - -I told Shannon that I believed in his truth, and I offered to send him -magazines and letters if he wished. Then he gave me one swift glance of -scrutiny, with eyes accustomed to reading people, thanked me, and added -as we parted: "If there were more people like you in this world there -wouldn't be so many like me." - -My belief in the truth of Shannon's statement was purely intuitive, but -in order to make it clear to my understanding as well I studied every -objection to its acceptance by those who believed Shannon to be the -victim of a delusion. His sincerity no one doubted. It was claimed that -Shannon had manifested no interest in the case previous to his arrival -in the prison where Brett was. On the way to this prison Shannon, in -attempting to escape from the sheriff, had received a blow on the back -of his head, which it was assumed might have affected his mind. Among my -convict acquaintances was a man who had worked in the shop beside -Shannon in another prison, at the time of Brett's trial for the crime, -and this man could have had no possible motive for incriminating -Shannon. He told me that during all the time of the trial, five years -previous to the blow on his head, Shannon was greatly disturbed, -impatient to get hold of newspapers which he had to borrow, and -apparently absorbed in studying the evidence against Brett, but saying -always, "They can't convict him." This convict went on to tell me that -after the case was decided against Brett Shannon seemed to lose his -nerve and all interest in life. This account tallies exactly with -Shannon's printed confession, in which he says: "I read what I could of -the trial in what papers I could get. I had not yet reached the point -where I was willing to sacrifice my life for a stranger." - -In his confession Shannon had spoken of his accomplice in that terrible -night's work as one who could come forward and substantiate his -statements. Four different convicts of my acquaintance knew who this man -was, but not one of them was able to put me in communication with him. -The man had utterly disappeared. But this bit of evidence as to his -knowledge of the crime I did collect--his whereabouts was known to at -least one other of my convict acquaintances till the day after Shannon's -confession was made public. That day my acquaintance received from -Shannon's accomplice _a paper with the confession marked_ and from that -day had lost all trace of him. The convict made this comment in defence -of the silence of the accomplice: - -"He wouldn't be such a fool as to come forward and incriminate himself -after Shannon's experience." - -Convicts in several States were aware of Shannon's fruitless effort to -right a wrong, and knew of the punishment brought upon himself by his -attempt. The outcome of the occurrence must have been regarded as a -warning to other convicts who might be prompted to honest confession in -behalf of another. - -At that time I had never seen George Brett, and not until later was I in -communication with his lawyers. But I was convinced that only from -convicts could evidence verifying Shannon's confession be gleaned. - -As far as I know, nothing more connected with that crime has ever come -to light. And even to-day there is doubtless a division of opinion among -those best informed. Finding there was nothing I could do in the matter, -my interest became centred in the study of the man Shannon. He was an -interesting study from the purely psychological side, still more so in -the gradual revelation of his real inner life. - -It is difficult to reconcile Shannon's life of action with his life of -thought, for he was a man of intellect, a student and a thinker. His use -of English was always correct. The range of his reading was wide, -including the best fiction, philosophy, science, and, more unusual, the -English essayists--Addison, Steele, and other contributors to _The -Spectator_. The true philosopher is shown in the following extract from -one of his letters to me: - -"I beg you not to think that I consider myself a martyr to the cause of -truth. That my statement was rejected takes nothing from the naked fact, -but simply proves the failure of conditions by which it was to be -established as such. It did not come within the rules of acceptance in -these things, consequently it was not accepted. This is a world of -method. Things should be in their place. People do not go to a -fish-monger for diamonds, nor to a prison for truth. I recognize the -incongruity of my position and submit to the inevitable." - -In explanation of his reception of my first call he writes: - -"I don't think that at first I quite understood the nature of your -call--it was so unexpected. If my meaning in what I said was obscure it -was because in thinking and brooding too much one becomes unable to talk -and gradually falls into a state where words seem unnatural. _And these -prison thoughts are terrible._ In their uselessness they are like -spiders building cobwebs in the brain, clouding it and clogging it -beyond repair. I try to use imagination as a drug to fill my mind with a -fanciful contentment that I can know in no other way. When I was a child -I used to dream and speculate in anticipation of the world that was -coming. Now I do the same, but for a different reason--to make me forget -the detestable period of fact that has intervened. - -"So when I am not reading or sleeping, and when my work may be -performed mechanically and with least mental exertion, I live away from -myself and surroundings as much as possible. I was in a condition -something like this at the time of your call. A dreamer dislikes at best -to be awakened and in a situation like mine it is especially trying. -While talking in this way I must beg pardon, for I did really appreciate -your visit and felt more human after it. I would not have you infer from -this that the slightest imagination entered into my story of that -unfortunate affair. I would it were so; but if it is a fact that I -exist, all that I related is just as true." - -His choice of Schopenhauer as a friend illustrates the homoeopathic -principle of like curing like. - -"Schopenhauer is an old friend and favorite of mine. Very often when I -am getting wretchedly blue and when everything as seen through my eyes -is wearing a most rascally tinge, I derive an immense amount of comfort -and consolation by thinking how much worse they have appeared to -Schopenhauer." In other words, the great pessimist served to produce a -healthy reaction. - -But this reaction was but for the hour. All through Shannon's letters -there runs a vein of the bitterest pessimism. He distrusted all forms of -religion and arraigns the prison chaplains in these words: - -"I have never met a class of men who appear to know less of the -spiritual nature or the wants of their flocks. It is strange to me that -men, who might so easily gather material for the finest practical -lessons, surrounded as they are by real life experiences and -illustrations by which they might well teach that _crime does not pay_ -either in coin or happiness, that they will ignore all this and rack -their brains to produce elaborate theological discourses founded upon -some sentence of a fisherman who existed two thousand years ago, to -paralyze and mystify a lot of poor plain horse thieves and burglars. -What prisoners are in need of is a man able to preach natural, every-day -common sense, with occasionally a little humor or an agreeable story or -incident to illustrate a moral. It seems to me if I were to turn -preacher I would try and study the simple character of the great master -as it is handed down to us." - -It strikes me that prison chaplains would do well to heed this convict -point of view of their preaching. - -I do not recall that Shannon ever made a criticism upon the -administration of the prison of which he was then an inmate, but he -gives free expression to his opinion of our general system of -imprisonment. He had been studying the reports of a prison congress -recently in session where various "reformatory measures" had been -discussed, or, to use his expression, "expatiated upon," and writes: - -"I wish to make a few remarks from personal observation upon this -subject of prison reform. I will admit, to begin with, that upon the -ground of protection to society, the next best thing to hanging a -criminal is to put him in prison, providing you keep him there; but if -you seek his reformation it is the worst thing you can do with him. -Convicts generally are not philosophers, neither are they men of pure -thought or deep religious feelings. They are not all sufficient to -themselves, and for this reason confinement never did, never can and -never will have a good effect upon them. - -"I have known hundreds of men, young and old, who have served time in -prison. I have known many of them to grow crafty in prison and upon -release to employ their peculiar talents in some other line of -business, safer but not less degrading to themselves; but I never knew -one to have been made a better man by _prison discipline_;--those who -reformed did so through other influences. - -"It may be a good prison or a bad one, with discipline lax or rigorous, -but the effect, though different, is never good: it never can be. Crime -is older than prisons. According to best accounts it began in the Garden -of Eden, but God--who knew human nature--instead of shutting up Adam and -Eve separately, drove them out into the world where they could exercise -their minds hustling for themselves. Since then there has been but one -system that reformed a man without killing him, namely, transportation. - -"This system, instead of leaving a bad man in prison, _to saturate -himself with his own poison_, sent him to a distant country, where under -new conditions, and with something to work and hope for, he could -harmlessly dissipate that poison among the wilds of nature. It may be no -other system is possible; that the world is getting too densely -populated to admit of transportation; or that society owes nothing to -one who has broken her laws. I write this, not as 'an Echo from a -Living Tomb,' but as plain common sense."[13] - -Personal pride, one of the very elements of the man's nature, kept him -from ever uttering a complaint of individual hardships; but the mere -fact of confinement, the lack of air, space, freedom of movement and -action, oppressed him as if the iron bars were actually pressing against -his spirit. His one aim was to find some Lethe in which he could drown -memory and consciousness of self. In all the years of his manhood there -seemed to have been no sunny spot in which memory could find a -resting-place. - -From first to last his misdirection of life had been such a frightful -blunder; even in its own line such a dismal failure. His boasted "fine -art" of burglary had landed him in the ranks of murderers. He had -despised cowardice and yet at the critical hour in the destiny of -another he had proven himself a coward. And when by complete -self-sacrifice he had sought to right the wrong the sacrifice had been -in vain. - -Understanding something of the world in which he lived, I suggested the -study of a new language as a mental occupation requiring concentration -on a line entirely disconnected from his past. He gladly adopted my -suggestion and began the study of German; but it was all in vain--he -could not escape from himself. - -He had managed to keep so brave a front in his letters that I was -unaware that the man was completely breaking down until the spring -morning when we had our last interview. - -There was in his face the unmistakable look of the man who is doomed--so -many of my prisoners died. His remorse was like a living thing that had -eaten into his life--a very wolf within his breast. He was no longer -impassive, but fairly writhing in mental agony. He did not seem to know -that he was dying; he certainly did not care. His one thought was for -Brett and the far-reaching, irreparable wrong that Brett had suffered -through him. When I said that I thought the fate of the innocent man in -prison was not so dreadful as that of the guilty man Shannon exclaimed: -"You are mistaken. I don't see how it is possible for a man unjustly -imprisoned to believe in any justice, human or divine, or in any God -above," and he continued with an impassioned appeal on behalf of -innocent prisoners which left a deep impression with me. In his own -being he seemed to be actually experiencing at once the fate of the -innocent victim of injustice and of the guilty man suffering just -punishment. He spoke of his intense spiritual loneliness, which human -sympathy was powerless to reach, and of how thankful he should be if he -could find light or hope in any religion; but he could not believe in -any God of truth or justice while Brett was left in prison. A soul more -completely desolate it is impossible to imagine. - -My next letter from Shannon was written from the hospital, and expresses -the expectation of being "all right again in a few days"; farther on in -the letter come these words: - -"I do believe in a future life. Without this hope and its consoling -influence life would scarcely be worth living. I believe that all the -men who have ever died, Atheists or whatever they professed to be, did -so with the hope more or less sustaining them, of awakening to a future -life. This hope is implanted by nature universally in the human breast -and it is not unlikely to suppose that it has some meaning." - -A few weeks later I received a line from the warden telling me of the -death of Ellis Shannon, and from the prison hospital was sent me a -little volume of translations from Socrates which had been Shannon's -companion in his last days. A slip of paper between the leaves marked -Socrates's reflections on death and immortality. The report of one of -the hospital nurses to me was: - -"Shannon had consumption, but he died of grief." It is not often that -one dies of a broken heart outside the pages of fiction and romance, but -medical authority assures us that it sometimes happens. - -Up to this time I had never seen George Brett, but after the death of -Shannon we had one long interview. What first struck me was the -remarkable similarity between the voices of Brett and Shannon, as -supposed identification of the voice of Brett with that of the burglar -had been accepted as evidence at the trial. My general impression of the -man was wholly favorable. He was depressed and discouraged, but -responsive, frank, and unstudied in all that he said. When he mentioned -the man shot in the burglary I watched him closely; his whole manner -brightened as he said: - -"Why, he was one of the best men in the world, a man that little -children loved. He was good to every one." - -"And you could never speak of that man as you are speaking now if you -had taken his life," was my inward comment. - -Brett's attitude toward Shannon was free from any shade of resentment, -but what most impressed me was that Shannon's belief that the unjust -conviction of Brett and his own fruitless effort to right the wrong must -make it impossible for Brett ever to believe in a just God--in other -words, that the most cruel injury to Brett was the spiritual injury. -This belief proved to be without foundation. George Brett had not been a -religious man, but in Shannon he saw that truth and honor were more than -life, stronger than the instinct of self-preservation; and he could -hardly escape from the belief that divine justice itself was the -impelling power back of the impulse prompting Shannon to confession. In -the strange action and interaction of one life upon another, in the -final summing up of the relation of these two men, it seemed to have -been given to Shannon to touch the deeper springs of spiritual life in -Brett, to reveal to him something of the eternal verities of existence. - -And truth crushed to earth did rise again; for not long after the death -of Shannon, in the eighth year of his imprisonment, George Brett was -pardoned, with the public statement that he had been convicted on -doubtful evidence and that the confession of Shannon had been accepted -in proof of his innocence. - -No adequate compensation can ever be made to one who has suffered unjust -imprisonment, but there are already indications of the dawn of a -to-morrow when the state, in common honesty, will feel bound to make at -least financial restitution to those who have been the victims of such -injustice. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[12] The crime was committed after the midnight of Hallowe'en. - -[13] This letter was written twenty-five years ago. The logic of -Shannon's argument is unquestionably sound. The futility of imprisonment -as a reformatory agent is now widely recognized. But better than -transportation is the system of conditional liberation of men after -conviction now receiving favorable consideration--even tentative -adoption--in many States. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -There is another chapter to my experience with prisoners; it is the -story of what they have done for me, for they have kept the balance of -give and take very even between us. I have an odd collection of -souvenirs and keepsakes, but, incongruous as the different articles are, -one thread connects them all; from the coarse, stubby pair of little -mittens suggesting the hand of a six-year-old country boy to the flask -of rare Venetian glass in the dull Oriental tones dear to the æsthetic -soul; from the hammock that swings under the maple-trees to the -diminutive heart in delicately veined onyx, designed to be worn as a -pendant. - -The mittens came from Jackson Currant, a friendly soul who unravelled -the one pair of mittens allowed him for the winter, contrived to possess -himself of a piece of wire from which he fashioned a hook, and evenings -in his cell crocheted for me a pair of mittens. Funny little things they -were, but a real gift, for this prisoner took from himself and gave to -me the one thing he had to give. - -Another gift which touched me came from an old Rocky Mountain -trapper--then a prisoner for life. His one most cherished possession was -a copy of "A Day in Athens with Socrates," sent him by the translator. -After keeping the precious book for three years and learning its -contents by heart, he sent it to me as a birthday gift and I found it -among other birthday presents one February morning. Then there is the -cherry box that holds my stationery, with E. A.'s initials carved in the -cover; E. A., who is reclaiming his future from all shadow of his past. -It was E. A. who introduced me to my Welsh boy, Alfred Allen, and it was -Alfred who opened my heart to all the street waifs in the universe. - -In many ways my life has been enriched by my prisoners. Most delightful -social affiliations, most stimulating intellectual influences, and some -of the warmest friendships of my life, by odd chains of circumstances -have developed from my prison interests. - -Almost any friend can give us material gifts--the gift of things--the -friend who widens our social relations or broadens our interests does -us far better service; but it is the rare friend who opens our -spiritual perception to whom we are most indebted. For through the ages -has been pursued the quest of some proof that man is a spiritual being, -some evidence that what we call the soul has its origin beyond the realm -of the material; the learning of all time has failed to satisfy this -quest; and the wealth of the world cannot purchase one fragment of such -proof. - -And yet it is to one of my prisoners that I owe the gift of an hour in -which the spirit of man seemed the one vital fact of his existence, the -one thing beyond the reach of death; and time has given priceless value -to that hour. - -I met James Wilson in the first years of my prison acquaintance, and it -was long before it occurred to me that under later legislation he would -have been classed as an habitual criminal. I have often wondered at the -power of his personality; it must have been purely the result of innate -qualities. He was brave, he was generous, he was loyalty itself; and his -sympathies were responsive as those of a woman. He would have been an -intrepid soldier, a venturesome explorer, a chivalrous knight; but in -the confusion of human life the boy was shoved to the wrong track and -having the momentum of youth and strong vitality he rushed recklessly -onward into the course of a Robin Hood; living in an age when those who -come into collision with the social forces of law and order are called -criminals, his career in that direction fortunately was of short -duration. - -Had Wilson not been arrested in his downward course he might never have -come into possession of the self whom I knew so well, that true self at -last so clearly victorious over adverse circumstances. In this sketch I -have not used Wilson's letters; they were so purely personal, so wholly -of his inner life, that to give them to the public seemed desecration. - -I can give but one glimpse of his childhood. When he was a very little -boy he sat on his father's knee and looked up into kind and loving gray -eyes. The father died, and the son remembered him always as kind and -loving. - -The loss of his father changed the course of Wilson's life. The mother -formed other ties; the boy was one too many, and left home altogether as -soon as he was old enough to shift for himself. He went honestly to -work, where so many boys along the Mississippi Valley are morally -ruined--on a river-boat. - -After a time things began to go wrong with him. I don't know whether -the injury was real or fancied, but the boy believed himself maliciously -injured; and in the blind passion following he left the river, taking -with him money that belonged to the man who had angered him. Wilson had -meant to square the score, to balance wrong with wrong; but his revenge -recoiled upon himself and at sixteen he was a thief and a fugitive. -Before the impetus of that moral movement was exhausted he was in the -penitentiary--"one of the most vigorous and fine-looking men in the -prison, tall and splendidly built," so said another prisoner who knew -him at that time. - -At the expiration of his three years' sentence Wilson began work in a -Saint Louis printing-office, opening, so he believed, a new chapter in -life. He was then twenty years of age. - -During that year all through the West--if the Mississippi region can -still be called West--there were serious labor troubles. Men were -discharged from every branch of employment where they could be spared; -and the day came when all the "new hands" in the printing-office where -Wilson worked were turned off. - -Wilson had saved something from his earnings, and while his money -lasted he lived honestly, seeking employment, but the money was gone -before he found employment. Outside the cities the country was overrun -with tramps; temptations to lawlessness were multiplied; starvation, -stealing, or begging seemed the only pathway open to many. None starved; -there was little choice between the other alternatives. Jails and -prisons were crowded with inmates, some of whom felt themselves -fortunate in being provided with food and shelter even at the cost of -liberty. "I have gone hungry so many days and slept on the ground so -many nights that the thought of a prison seems something like home," was -a remark made to me. "The world owes me a living" was a thought that -came in the form of temptation to many a man who could get no honest -work. - -After Wilson had been out of employment for two or three months there -occurred a great commotion near a small town within fifty miles of Saint -Louis. Stores had been broken into and property carried off, and a -desperate attempt was made to capture the burglars, who were supposed to -be in that vicinity. A man who had gone to a stream of water was -arrested and identified as belonging to the gang. He was ordered to -betray his accomplices; he refused absolutely. The reckless courage in -his nature once aroused, the "honor" observed among thieves was his -inevitable course. A rope was brought, and Wilson was taken to a tree -where the story of his life would doubtless have ended had not a shout -from others, who were still searching, proclaimed the discovery of the -retreat of his companions. Wilson and Davis, the two leaders, were -sentenced each to four years in the penitentiary. - -Defeated, dishonored, penniless, and friendless, Wilson found himself -again in prison; this time under the more than double disgrace of being -a "second-term" man, with consciousness of having deliberately made a -choice of crime. He was an avowed infidel, and his impetuous, unsubdued -nature was at war with life and the world. For two years he lived on in -this way; then his health began to fail under the strain of work and -confinement. - -With the loss of strength his heart grew harder and more desperate. One -day his old recklessness broke out in open revolt against prison -authority. He was punished by being sent to the "solitary," where the -temperature in summer is much lower than that of the shops where the -men work; he took cold, a hemorrhage of the lungs resulted, and he was -sent to the prison hospital. - -There, on a Sunday morning two months later, I first met Wilson. I think -it was the glance of the dark-gray eyes under long, sweeping black -lashes that first attracted me. But it was the expression of the face, -the quiet, dignified courtesy of manner, and the candid statement of his -history that made the deeper impression. Simply and briefly he gave me -the outlines of his past; and he spoke with deep, concentrated -bitterness of the crushing, terrible life in prison. His unspoken -loneliness--he had lost all trace of his mother--and his illness, almost -ignored but evident, appealed to my sympathy and prompted me to offer to -write to him. He thought it would be a pleasure to receive letters, but -assured me that he could write nothing worth reading in return. - -Long afterward I asked what induced him to reply to my questions so -frankly and sincerely. His answer was: "Because I knew if I lied to you, -it would make it harder for you to believe the next man you talked with, -who might tell you the truth." During all that Sunday afternoon and -evening Wilson remained in my thoughts, and the next -afternoon--Hallowe'en, as it happened--found me again at the hospital. I -stopped for a few moments at the bedside of a young prisoner who was -flushed with hectic fever and wildly rebellious over the thought of -dying in prison--he lived to die an honest man in freedom, in the dress -of a civilized being and not in the barbarous, zebra-like suit then worn -in the prison. I remained for a longer time beside the bed of a man who -was serving a sentence of imprisonment for life for a crime of which he -was innocent. After twelve years his innocence was proved; he was -released a crippled invalid, with no means of support except by hands -robbed of their power to work. The State makes no reparation for an -unspeakable wrong like this, far more cruel than death. - -When I turned to look for Wilson he was sitting apart from the other -men, with a vacant chair beside him. Joining him beside that west -window, flooded with the golden light of an autumn sunset, I took the -vacant seat intended for me; and the hour that followed so influenced -Wilson's future that he adopted that day--Hallowe'en--as his birthday. -He knew the year but not the month in which he was born. - -I have not the slightest recollection of what I said while we sat beside -the window. But even now I can see Wilson's face as he listened with -silent attention, not meeting my eyes. I think I spoke of his personal -responsibility for the life he had lived. I am certain that I said -nothing about swearing and that I asked no promises. - -But thoughts not in my mind were suggested to him. For when I ceased -speaking he raised his eyes, and looking at me intently he said: "I -can't promise to be a Christian; my life has been too bad for that; but -I want to promise you that I will give up swearing and try to have pure -thoughts. I can promise you that, because these things lie in my own -power; but there's too much wickedness between me and God for me ever to -be a Christian." - -His only possession was the kingdom of his thoughts; without reservation -it was offered to his friend, and with the sure understanding that she -would value it. - -It was a surprise when I received Wilson's first letter to see the -unformed writing and the uncertain spelling; but the spirit of the man -could be traced, even through the inadequate medium. In earnestness and -simplicity he was seeking to fulfil his promise, finding, as he -inevitably must, that he had committed himself to more than his promise. -It was not long before he wrote that he had begun a new life altogether -"for your sake and for my own." His "thoughts" gave him great trouble, -for the old channels were still open, and his cell-mate's mind was -steeped in wickedness. But he made the best of the situation, and -instead of seeking to ward off evil he took the higher course of sharing -his own better thoughts with his cell-mate, over whom he acquired a -strong influence. Steadfastly he sought to overcome evil with good. Very -slowly grew his confidence in himself; and his great anxiety seemed to -be lest I should think him better than he was. - -Like all persons with tuberculosis Wilson was sanguine of recovery; and -as he went back to work in one of the shops the day after I left, and -always wrote hopefully, I took it for granted that his health was -improving. - -Six months only passed before we met again, and I was wholly unprepared -for the startling change in Wilson's appearance. His cough and the -shortness of his breath were distressing. But the poor fellow was so -delighted to see me that he tried to set his own condition entirely -aside. - -We had a long talk in the twilight of that lovely May evening, and again -we were seated beside a window, through which the light and sounds of -spring came in. I learned then how hard life was for that dying man. He -was still subject to the strict discipline of the most strictly -disciplined prison in the country: compelled to rise at five in the -morning and go through the hurried but exact preparations for the day -required of well men. He was kept on the coarse prison fare, forced to -march breathlessly in the rapid lock-step of the gang of strong men with -whom he worked, and kept at work in the shop all through the long days. -The strain on nerve and will and physical strength was never relaxed. - -These things he told me, and they were all true; but he told me also -better things, not so hard for me to know. He gave me the history of his -moral struggles and victories. He told me of the "comfort" my letters -had been to him; his whole heart was opened to me in the faith that I -would understand and believe him. It was then that he told me he was -trying to live by some verses he had learned; and in answer to my -request, hesitatingly, and with breath shortened still more by -embarrassment, he repeated the lines: - - - "I stand upon the Mount of God, - With gladness in my soul, - I hear the storms in vale beneath-- - I hear the thunder roll. - - "But I am calm with Thee, my God, - Beneath these glorious skies, - And to the height on which I stand - No storm nor cloud can rise." - - -He was wholly unconscious that there was anything unusual in his -reaching up from the depths of sin, misery, and degradation to the -spiritual heights of eternal light. He rather reproached himself for -having left the valley of repentance, seeming to feel that he had -escaped mental suffering that was deserved; although he admitted: "The -night after you left me in October, when I went back to my cell, the -tears were just running down my face--if that could be called -repentance." - -At the close of our interview, as Wilson was going out, he passed -another prisoner on the way in to see me. - -"Do you know Wilson?" was Newton's greeting as he approached me. - -"Do _you_ know Wilson?" was my question in reply. - -Newton had taken offence at something in one of my letters and it was to -make peace with him that I had planned the interview, but all -misunderstanding evaporated completely in our common regret and anxiety -about Wilson; for my feeling was fully shared by this man who--well, he -_was_ pretty thoroughly hardened on all other subjects. But here the -chord of tenderness was touched; and all his hardness and resentment -melted in the relief of finding some one who felt as he did on the -subject nearest his heart. - -"I have worked beside Wilson in the shop for two years, and I have never -loved any man as I have grown to love him," he said. "And it has been so -terrible to see him dying by inches, and kept at work when he could -scarcely stand." The man spoke with strong emotion; the very depths of -his nature were stirred. He told me all about this friendship, which had -developed notwithstanding the fact that conversation between convicts -was supposed to be confined to necessary communication in relation to -work. Side by side they had worked in the shop, and as Wilson's -strength failed Newton managed to help him. Newton's praise and -affection really counted for something, as he was an embittered man with -small faith in human nature. He said that in all his life nothing had -been so hard as to see his friend sinking under his fate, while _he_ was -powerless to interfere. Newton and I had one comfort, however, in the -fact that Wilson's sentence was near the end. In justice to the -authorities of the prison where these men were confined I wish to state -that dying prisoners were usually sent to the hospital. Wilson's was an -exceptional case of hardship. - -Early in July Wilson was released from prison. When he reached Chicago -his evident weakness arrested the attention of a passer-by, who hired a -boy to carry his bundle and see him to his destination. He had -determined to try to support himself, believing that freedom would bring -increased strength; but he was too ill to work. The doctor whom he -consulted spoke encouragingly, but urged the necessity of rest and -Minnesota air. I therefore sent him a pass to Minneapolis, and the route -was by way of my own home. - -Life was hard on Wilson, but it gave him one day of happiness apart -from poverty or crime, when he felt himself a welcome guest in the home -of a friend. When his train arrived from Chicago I was at the station to -meet him, and before driving home we called on my physician that I might -know what to anticipate. The doctor commended the plan for the climate -of Minnesota, and spoke encouragingly to Wilson, but to me privately he -gave the fiat, "No hope." - -Wilson spent the rest of that day in the library of my home, and all the -afternoon he was smiling. My face reflected his smiles, but I could not -forget the shadow of death in the background. We talked of many things -that afternoon; the breadth and fairness of his opinions on prison -matters, the impersonal way in which he was able to consider the -subject, surprised me, for his individual experience had been -exceptionally severe. - -When weariness came into his eyes and his voice I suggested a little -music. The gayer music did not so much appeal to him, but I shall never -forget the man's delight in the sweet and restful cadences of -Mendelssohn. After a simple tea served Wilson in the library we took a -drive into the country, where the invalid enjoyed the lovely view of -hills and valleys wrapped in the glow of the summer sunset; and then I -left him for the night at a comfortable hotel. - -The next morning Wilson was radiantly happy, notwithstanding "a hard -night"; and it happened to be one of the days when summer does her best -to keep us in love with life. All the forenoon we spent under a great -maple-tree, with birds in the branches and blue sky overhead, Wilson -abandoning himself to the simple joy of living and resting. Wilson was a -fine-looking man in citizen's dress, his regular features refined and -spiritualized by illness. - -There were preparations to be made for Minnesota and the suit-case to be -repacked, and what value Wilson placed upon the various articles I -contributed! I think it was the cake of scented soap--clearly a -luxury--that pleased him most, but he was interested in every single -thing, and his heart was warmed by the cordial friendliness of my -mother, who added her own contribution to his future comfort. His one -regret was that he had nothing to give us in return. - -But time was on the wing, and the morning slipped by all too rapidly, as -the hours of red-letter days always do, and the afternoon brought the -parting at the train for Minneapolis. Wilson lingered beside me while -there was time, then looking gravely into my eyes, he said: "Good-by; I -hope that we shall meet again--_on this side_." A moment later the -moving train carried him away toward the north, which to him meant the -hope of health. - -Exhausted by the journey to Minneapolis, he at once applied for -admission to a Catholic hospital, and here I will let him speak for -himself, through the first letter that I received after he left me. - - - "DEAR FRIEND: - - "I am now in the hospital, and I am so sleepy when I try to write - that I asked one of the sisters to write for me. - - "I felt quite weak when I first came here, but now I take beef-tea, - and I feel so much stronger, I think I will be very much better by - the end of this month. - - "The Mother Superior is most kind and calls me her boy and thinks - she will soon have me quite well again. I have a fine room to - myself, and I feel most happy as I enjoy the beautiful fresh air - from the Mississippi River, which runs quite near me. - - "Dear friend, I wish you were here to enjoy a few days and see how - happy I am." - - -And scrawled below, in a feeble but familiar handwriting, were the -words: - -"I tried to write, but failed." - -Under the influence of the sisters Wilson was led back to the church -into which he had been baptized, and although he did not accept its -limitations he found great comfort in the sense of protection that it -gave him. Rest and nursing and the magical air of Minnesota effected -such an improvement in his health that before many weeks Wilson was -discharged from the hospital. - -After a short period of outdoor work, in which he tested his strength, -he went into a printing-office, where, for a month, he felt himself a -man among men. But it was an overambitious and unwise step--confinement -and close air of the office were more than he could endure, and with -great regret he gave up the situation. - -Winter was setting in and he found no work that he could do, and yet -thought himself too well to again seek admission to a hospital. The -outlook of life darkened, for there seemed to be no place for him -anywhere. He did not write to me during that time of uncertainty, and -one day, after having spent three nights in a railroad station, as a -last resort he asked to be sent to the county home and was received -there; after that he could not easily obtain admission to a hospital. - -Western county homes were at that time hard places; in some respects -existence there was harder than in the prison, where restraint and -discipline are in a measure a protection, securing a man undisturbed -possession of his inner life and thoughts, during working hours at -least. The ceaselessly intrusive life of the home, with the lack of -discipline and the unrestrained intercourse of inmates, with the -idleness and the dirt, is far more demoralizing; crime itself does not -sap self-respect like being an idle pauper among paupers. All this could -be read between the lines of Wilson's letters. - -And now a new dread was taking hold of him. All his hope and ambition -had centred in the desire to be good for this life. He had persistently -shut out the thought of death as the one thing that would prevent his -realizing this desire. Nature and youth clung passionately to life, and -all the strength of his will was nerved to resist the advance of -disease. But day by day the realization that life was slipping from him -forced itself deeper into his consciousness; even for the time -discouraging him morally. His high resolves seemed of no avail. It was -all of no use. He must die a pauper with no chance to regain his lost -manhood; life seemed indeed a hopeless failure. I had supplied Wilson -with paper and envelopes, stamped and addressed, that I might never fail -of hearing from him directly or through others; but there came an -interval of several weeks when I heard nothing, although writing -regularly. Perplexed, as well as anxious, in my determination to break -the silence at all hazards, I wrote a somewhat peremptory letter. The -answer came by return mail, but it was the keeper of the county home who -wrote that Wilson had written regularly and that he was very unhappy -over my last letter, adding: - -"He says that if this room was filled with money it would not tempt him -to neglect his best friend; and when I told him that this room was -pretty big and would hold a lot of money he said that didn't make any -difference." - -I could not be reconciled to Wilson's dying in that place, and when the -spring days came he was sent to Chicago, where his entrance to a -hospital had been arranged. It was an April afternoon when I found him -in one of the main wards of the hospital, a large room flooded with -sunshine and fresh air. Young women, charming in their nurses' uniform, -with skilled and gentle hands, were the ministering spirits there; the -presiding genius a beautiful Philadelphian whose gracious tranquillity -was in itself a heavenly benediction to the sick and suffering among -whom she lived. On a table beside Wilson's bed trailing arbutus was -filling the air with fragrance and telling the story of spring. - -Wilson was greatly altered; but his face was radiant in the gladness of -our meeting. For weeks previous he had not been able to write me of his -thoughts or feelings, and I do not know when the change came. But it was -clearly evident that, as death approached, he had turned to meet it; and -had found, as so many others have found, that death no longer seemed an -enemy and the end of all things, but a friend who was leading the way to -fuller life; he assumed that I understood all this; he would have found -it difficult to express it in words; but he had much to tell me of all -those around him, and wished to share with me the friendships he had -formed in the hospital; and I was interested in the way the _quality of -the man's nature_ had made itself felt among nurses and patients alike. - -One of the patients who had just been discharged came to the bedside to -bid him good-by; Wilson grasped his hand and in a few earnest words -reminded him of promises given in a previous conversation. With broken -voice the man renewed his promises, and left with his eyes full of -tears. He was unable to utter the good-by he had come to give. - -At the close of my visit Wilson insisted upon giving me the loveliest -cluster of his arbutus; while Miss Alden, the Philadelphian, sanctioned -with a smile his sharing of her gift with another. - -As Miss Alden went with me to the door she told me of her deep interest -in Wilson, and of the respect and affection he had won from all who had -come in contact with him. "The nurses consider it a pleasure to do -anything for one who asks so little and is so grateful," she said. -Though knowing that he had been in prison, Miss Alden was surprised to -learn that Wilson was not a man of education. His use of English, the -general tone of his thoughts and conversation, had classed him as a man -familiar with good literature and refined associations. She, too, had -felt in him a certain spiritual strength, and was touched by his loyalty -to me, which seemed never obscured by his gratitude to others. She -believed that only the strength of his desire to see me once again had -kept him in this world for the previous week. - -The next morning Wilson was visibly weaker; the animation caused by the -excitement of seeing me the day before was gone; but the spiritual peace -and strength which had come to him were the more evident. - -At his dictation I wrote a last message to Newton, and directions as to -the disposal of his clothing, to be given to patients whose needs he had -discovered. He expressed a wish to leave some little remembrances for -each of the nurses; there were six to whom he felt particularly -indebted. There was Miss Stevens, "who has been so very kind at night"; -every one had her special claim, and I promised that each should receive -some token of his gratitude. - -Afterward he spoke of the new life before him as naturally and easily as -he spoke of the hospital. He seemed already to have crossed the border -of the new life. His heart had found its home in God; there he could -give himself without reserve. Life and eternity were gladly offered to -the One in whom he had perfect trust. - -"Tell me," I said, "what is your thought of heaven, now that it is so -near? What do you expect?" - -How full of courage and trust and honesty was his answer! "I do not -expect happiness; at least not at once. God is too just for that, after -the life I have lived." Imprisonment, sickness, poverty, all the evils -that we most dread, had been endured for years, but counted for nothing -to him when weighed against his ruined life. But the thought of -suffering brought no fear. The justice of God was dearer to him than -personal happiness. I left that feeling undisturbed. He was nearer than -I to the light of the perfect day, and I could see that, unconsciously, -he had ceased to look to any one "on this side" for light. - -Wilson was sleeping when I saw him again, but the rapid change which had -taken place was apparent at a glance. When he opened his eyes and saw me -standing beside him he looked at me silently for a moment. With an -effort he gathered strength for what he evidently wished to say; and all -the gratitude and affection that he had never before attempted to -express to me directly were revealed in a few simple words. He would -have no good-by; the loss of the supreme friendship of his life formed -no part of his idea of death. Then he spoke of the larger life of -humanity for which he had learned to feel so deeply, and his final words -to me were: "Be to others what you have been to me. We are all brothers -and sisters." The last thought between us was not to be of an exclusive, -individual friendship, but of that universal tie which binds each to -all. - -Before midnight the earthly life had ended, peacefully and without fear. -The stem of Easter lilies that I carried to the hospital next day was -placed in the hands folded in the last sleep, and Wilson clasped in -death the symbol of new life and heavenly purity. - -Wilson was one of the men behind the bars; but it is as man among men -that I think of him; and his last words to me, "We are all brothers and -sisters," sum up the truth that inspires every effort the round world -over to answer the call of those who are desolate or oppressed--whether -the cry comes from little children in the mine, the workshop, or the -tenement, or from those who are in slavery, in hospital, or in prison. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -It was during the eighties and the nineties of the last century that I -was most closely in touch with prison life; and it was at that time that -the men whose stories I have told and from whose letters I have quoted -were behind the bars. For forty years or more there was no radical -change in methods of discipline in this prison, but material conditions -were somewhat improved, the stripes and the lock-step were abandoned, -and sanitation was bettered. - -This institution stood as one of the best in the country, and doubtless -it was above the average in most respects. While the convicts were under -rigid repressive regulations, the guards were under rules scarcely less -strict, no favoritism was allowed, no bribery tolerated, and the -successive administrations were thoroughly honorable. While the -different wardens conformed to accepted standards of discipline there -were many instances of individual kindness from members of the -administration, and no favor that I asked for a prisoner was ever -refused. - -But the twentieth century has brought a complete revolution in methods -of dealing with convicts. This radical revolution is overthrowing -century-old customs, and theories both ancient and modern. It has been -sprung upon us so suddenly that we have not yet grasped its full -meaning, but the causes leading up to it have been silently working -these many years. - -For ages the individuality of the human being has been merged in the -term criminal; the criminal had practically ceased to be a man, and was -classified only according to his offence; as murderer, thief, forger, -pickpocket, etc. During the nineteenth century there was a gradual -mitigation of the fate of the convict: laws became more flexible, -efforts were made to secure more uniformity in the length of sentence -imposed, many States discarded the lock-step and the striped clothing, -and the contract system was giving place to other employment of -convicts. While the older prisons were growing unspeakably worse through -decaying walls and increasing vermin, as new penitentiaries were built -more light, better ventilation, larger cells, and altogether better -sanitation were adopted. However, the Lombroso theory of a distinct -criminal type, stamped with pronounced physical characteristics, was -taught in all our universities and so generally accepted by the public -that the criminal was believed to be _a different kind of man_. - -The courts did a thriving business collecting all their fees and keeping -our prisons well filled, while the discipline of the convicts was left -to the prison officials, with practically no interference. Prison -congresses were held and there was much talk around and about the -criminal, but he was not regarded as a man with human feelings and human -rights; methods of management were discussed, but the inhuman -punishments sanctioned by some of these very wardens were never -mentioned in these discussions. "We are in charge; all's right in the -convict world," was the impression given the outsider who listened to -their addresses. - -Unquestionably many of these prison wardens were at heart humanitarians, -and gave to their prisons a distinctive atmosphere as the result of -their personal characteristics, but they were all the victims of -tradition as to dealing with convicts--tradition and precedent, the -established order of prison management. The inexperienced warden taking -charge naturally followed the beaten tracks; he studied the situation -from the point of view of his predecessor, and the position at best was -a difficult one; radical innovations could be made only with the -sanction of the prison commissioners, who seemed to be mainly interested -in the prison as a paying proposition; and pay it did under the -abominable contract system. - -And so the years went on with the main lines of prison discipline--the -daily lives of the convicts--practically unchanged. The convict was -merely a human machine to be worked a certain number of hours with no -incentive to good work beyond the fear of punishment. No thought was -given to fitting him for future citizenship. Every prison had its -punishment cells, some of them underground, most of them dark, where men -were confined for days on bread and water, usually shackled standing to -the iron door of the cell during working hours, and at night sleeping on -the stone floor unless a board was provided--the food a scant allowance -of bread and water. Punishment of this kind was inflicted for even -slight infractions of rules, while floggings, "water cures," and other -devilish methods were sometimes resorted to. In prisons of the better -grade the most rigidly repressive measures were enforced and all -natural human impulses were repressed. This was considered "excellent -discipline." - -Now, as to the results of those severe punishments and rigid repressive -methods: were the criminals reformed? Was society protected? What were -the fruits of our prisons and reformatories? I have before me reliable, -up-to-date statistics from a neighboring State as to the number of men -convicted of a second offence after serving one term in prison. The -general average shows that forty, out of every hundred men sent to -prison for the first time, on being released commit a second crime. This -percentage represents a fair average of the results of non-progressive -prison methods to-day. But while our prisons were practically at a -standstill and crime was on the increase the world was moving, new ideas -were in the very air, destined to be of no less importance in human -development than the mastery of electricity is proving in the material -world. - -There is an old proverb that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. -Some fifteen years ago the vital truth contained in this old saying -suddenly crystallized into the playground movement. More chance for -recreation, more variety in mental occupation, more fresh air and -sunshine, were strenuously demanded. Not only have playgrounds broken -out even in the midst of our crowded cities, but open-air schools have -sprung into existence in Europe and are gaining in favor in this country -where climate permits. Athletics in all forms have steadily gained in -popularity. Freedom for the body, exercise for every muscle, is not only -advocated by physicians but has become the fashion, until golf is now -the great American pastime, and the benefit of physical recreation is no -longer questioned. - -Even more far-reaching in eventual influence is the modern recognition -of the rights and claims of the individual. This awakening is so -widespread that it cannot be centralized in any personal leadership. It -is like the dawning of a great light upon the life of the twentieth -century in all civilized countries, and already it is affecting -existence in countless directions. - -In the army the common soldier is no longer regarded as merely a -shooting-machine, he is drilled and trained and schooled into -development as a man as well as a soldier. In the treatment of the -insane, physical restraint is gradually being relegated to the past; -the patient is regarded first of all as a human being, not merely as a -case. More and more the individual needs are studied and individual -talents brought into activity. In schools for the mentally defective the -very foundation of the methods and aims is to promote the development of -the individual, to draw out to the utmost whatever rudiments of ability -the child may possess and to keep the light turned steadily on the -normal rather than the abnormal in his nature. Physicians, -psychologists, and educators alike are realizing the importance of -adapting methods to the needs of the individual. - -Child-study--unfortunately, in many cases the study of text-books rather -than of the living child in the family, but child-study in some -form--prevails among the mothers of to-day. The gifted Madame -Montessori, from both the scientific and the humanitarian standpoint, is -emphasizing the importance of giving the child freedom for -self-expression. In the suffrage movement we have another evidence of -the same impulse toward recognition of individual rights. It comes to us -from every direction, even from the battle-field where the Red Cross -nurse sees neither friend nor foe, only a suffering man needing her -care. - -Here we have two great forces: nature's imperative demand for more -freedom for the body, more of God's sunshine and fresh air; and the -still more imperative demand from the spirit in man for recognition and -release. The two forces unite in the one demand, _Pro sanitate totius -hominis_--for the health of the whole man. - -Some thirty years ago Richard Dugdale, a large-hearted, large-brained -student of sociology, had the courage to state that the great blunder of -society in dealing with criminals began with shutting up so many of them -within our prisons, practically enslaving them to the state, depriving -them of all rewards for their labor and often throwing their families -upon public taxation for support; even in many cases making the -punishment fall more heavily upon innocent relatives than upon the -offenders themselves. He believed, however, that there would be a -residue of practically irreclaimable criminals whose permanent removal -from society was necessary, but that life for this class should be made -as nearly normal as possible. Richard Dugdale was a man of prophetic -insight, with a clear vision of the whole question of social -economics--social duties as well. Unfortunately, his death soon followed -the publication of his articles. But time is making his dreams come -true, and vindicating the soundness of his theories. Even during the -lifetime of this man spasmodic efforts were made in placing men on -probation after a first offence instead of sending them to prison. - -With the introduction of the juvenile courts early in the present -century this idea assumed practical form; and Judge Lindsey, of Denver, -gave such impetus to the movement to save young offenders from the -demoralizing influence of jails and miscalled reformatories that this -example has been followed in all directions, and thousands of boys have -been rescued from criminal life. "Save the boys and girls" appealed -directly to the masses, and this ounce of prevention was indorsed with -little opposition. - -But when the extension of the probation privilege to include adult -offenders--still further to reduce the prison population--was advocated -the public held back, fearing danger to society in allowing these older -lawbreakers to escape the legal penalties of their offences. However, -the current of progress was not to be stemmed, and adult probation has -been legalized in many States. The results have been satisfactory beyond -expectation, showing an average of less than five per cent of men -released on probation reverting to crime, against forty per cent of -reversions after a term in a non-progressive penitentiary. - -This adult probation law confers upon the judge not mandatory but -discretionary power, and the character of the judge plays a part not -less important than the character of the offender; the application of -the law is primarily a relation of man to man; the unjust judge will be -unjust still, the timid judge will avoid taking risks; in the very human -side in which lies the strength of this course lie also its limitations. - -Now the very foundation of the probation idea is the recognition of the -individual character of the offender and the circumstances leading to -the crime. But no sooner was the adult probation law in force than the -claim of the individual from another direction began to be recognized. -Curiously enough, in legal proceedings against criminals the injured -party had been entirely ignored--according to the old English precedent. -It was not the crime of man against man but the crime of man against the -state, the violation of a state law, that was punished. To the mind of -the criminal a crime against the state was but a vague and indefinite -abstraction, except in case of murder unlikely to cause remorse, or any -feeling of responsibility toward the person injured. If the injured -party were revengeful he had the satisfaction of knowing that the -criminal was punished; but the sending of the delinquent to prison -deprived him of all opportunity for reparation. - -An interesting thing begins to happen when the judge is given power to -put a man on probation. At last the injury to the individual is taken -into consideration. Here is an actual instance in point. - -"Five thousand dollars was embezzled from a Los Angeles theatre and -dissipated in high living by a man twenty-one years old. He confessed -and received this sentence from the judge: - -"'You shall stay at home nights. You shall remain within the limits of -this county. You shall not play billiards or pool, frequent cafés or -drink intoxicating liquors, and you shall go immediately to work and -keep at it till you pay back every dollar that you stole. Violate these -terms and you go to prison.'"[14] - -This practice of making restitution one of the conditions of probation -is spreading rapidly. Here we have a method hitherto unapproached of -securing all-round, common-sense justice, directly in line also with -sound social economics. Mr. Morrison Swift has well said of a term in -prison that "it breaks the current between the man and life, so that -when he emerges it is hard to form connections again. He has lost his -job, and too often health, nerve, and self-respect are impaired. These -obstacles to reformation are swept away when a man retains his -connection with the community by working in it like anybody else." - -Another factor in the scheme of probation is that it brings the -delinquent directly in touch with a friendly, guiding, and helping hand, -placing him at once under good influences; for it is the duty of the -probation officer to secure for his charge environment calculated to -foster reformation: he becomes indeed his brother's keeper. - -While modern ideas have thus been applied in the rescue of the -individual before he has become identified with criminal life, even more -marked has been the invasion of recent movements into the very -stronghold of the penitentiary itself. - -The twentieth century marks the beginning of the crusade against -tuberculosis. Physicians, philanthropists, and legislators combined -against the fearful ravages of this enemy to the very life of the -people. Generous appropriations were given by the state for the cure of -the disease and every effort was made to trace the sources of the evil. -And then it transpired that, while the state with her left hand was -establishing out-of-door colonies for the treatment of tuberculosis, -with her right hand she was maintaining laboratories for the culture of -the fatal germs, and industriously scattering the seeds in localities -where they would be most fruitful. In other words, the very walls of our -prisons had become beds of infection. Doctor J. B. Ransome, of New York -State, finds that from forty to sixty per cent of the deaths in all -prisons are from tuberculosis; at times the mortality has run as high as -eighty per cent. He tells us also that in the United States to-day there -are twenty thousand tubercular prisoners, most of whom will return to -the congested districts and stuffy tenements where the disease is most -rapidly and virulently spread.[15] - -He urges as of the utmost importance _that infected prisons be -destroyed_, and that convicts be given work in the open air when -possible; and that light, air, exercise, more nourishing food, and more -healthful conditions generally be substituted for the disease-breeding -conditions under which prisons have always existed. Thus, apart from all -humanitarian considerations, public health demands radical changes in -prisons and in the lives of the prisoners. - -The automobile, the autocrat of the present day, has little of the -missionary spirit; but it has made its imperious demand for good roads -all over the country, and legislation now authorizing convict labor on -State roads is not only responding to this demand but is partly solving -the vexed problem of the employment of convicts. - -How far the men responsible for the revolution in the management of -prisoners have studied these trends of the times I do not know. Most of -these men have doubtless builded better than they knew. All the winds of -progress, moving from every direction, seem to be concentrating in one -blast destined to crumble the walls of our prisons as the walls of -Jericho are said to have crumbled under the blast of the trumpets of the -hosts of the Lord. It may even be that the hosts of the Lord are back -of these winds of progress. - -The introduction of this reform movement required men of exceptional -force and ability, and in answer to this demand just such men are coming -to the front. The United States has already developed a remarkable line -of captains of industry, but not less remarkable men are taking this -humanitarian field to-day. - -The pioneer in revolutionizing prison-management was neither penologist -nor philanthropist. The first step was taken for purely practical ends. -It happened, when the twentieth century had just begun, that Mr. John -Cleghorne, a newly appointed warden of a Colorado penitentiary, found -that the State had provided neither cells nor workshops within the -prison for the number of convicts sentenced to hard labor. To meet this -exigency this warden decided to put a number of men to work outside the -walls, organizing a camp and putting the men, then in striped clothing, -on their honor not to escape. The experiment was altogether successful; -but so quietly carried on that it received little attention outside the -borders of its own State until the appointment of the next warden, -Thomas J. Tynan, who recognized the beginning of true reform in the -treatment of convicts and openly advocated the changes from humanitarian -motives. - -While to Colorado is given the precedence in this movement, a notable -feature is the nearly simultaneous expression of feeling and ideas -practically the same in widely separated localities, from the Pacific -coast to the Atlantic, and even on the shores of Panama. Naturally the -movement started in the West, in newer States less trammelled by -precedent than the older States, where traditions of prison discipline -had been handed down for two centuries; but the time was ripe for the -change and it has been brought about through men, some of them trained -penologists, others practical men of affairs, but all united in faith in -human nature and in the one aim of fitting the men under their -jurisdiction for self-supporting, law-abiding citizenship. - -Sceptics as to the effect on the prisoner of this liberalizing tendency -are silenced by the amazing response on the part of the convicts in -every prison where the honor system has been applied. This response is -unquestionable: a spirit of mutual confidence is displacing one of -suspicion and discouragement, and in supplanting the old antagonism to -prison authorities by a hearty sense of co-operation with them an -inestimable point in prison discipline is gained. We hear much these -days of the power of suggestion, and the suggestion, conscious and -unconscious, permeating the very atmosphere of these progressive prisons -is hopeful and helpful. - -Never before in the tragic history of prisons has a spiritual force been -applied to the control of prisoners; and yet with one consent the first -step taken by these progressive wardens is to place convicts on their -honor: not chains and shackles, not bolts and bars, no form of physical -restraint; but a force indefinable, impalpable, invisible, applied to -the spirit of these men. In bringing this force to bear on their charges -these wardens have indeed "hitched their wagon to a star." - -FOOTNOTES: - -[14] Morrison I. Swift, _Atlantic Monthly_, August, 1911. - -[15] _Atlantic Monthly_, August, 1911. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -And the time came, in 1913, when the wave of revolution in prison -methods struck the penitentiary which formed the background of the lives -pictured within these pages. Back of all my friendships with these men -had loomed the prison under the old methods, casting its dark shadow -across their lives. Many of them died within the walls; others came out -only to die in charity hospitals, or to take up the battle of life with -enfeebled health and enfeebled powers of resistance and endurance. -Almost as one man they had protected me from the realization of what -they endured in the punishment cells--from what the physical conditions -of prison life really were; but I knew far more than they thought I -did--as much as I could endure to know--and in our interviews we -understood that it was useless to discuss evils which I was powerless to -help; and then, too, I always tried to make those interviews oases in -the desert of their lives. But across my own heart also the shadow of -the prison lay all those years. Into the bright melody of a June -morning the sudden thought of the prison would crash with cruel discord; -at times everything most bright and beautiful would but the more sharply -accent the tragedy of prison life. Deep below the surface of my thought -there was always the consciousness of the prison; but, on the other -hand, this abiding consciousness made the ordinary trials and annoyances -inseparable from human life seem of little moment, passing clouds across -the sunlight of a more fortunate existence; and I was thankful that from -my own happy hours I could glean some ray of brightness to pour into -lives utterly desolate. So absolutely did I enter into the prison life -that even to-day it forms one of the most vivid chapters of my personal -experience. Accordingly, my point of view of the change in the prison -situation cannot be altogether that of the outsider. _I know_ what this -change means to the men within the walls; for in feeling, I too have -been a prisoner. - -A little paper lies before me, the first number of a new monthly -publication from behind the bars of the prison I know so well. In its -pages is mirrored a new dispensation--the new dispensation sweeping with -irresistible force from State to State. Too deep for words was the -thankfulness that filled my heart as I tried to realize that at last the -day had come when _prisoners were recognized as men_, and that this -blessed change had come to my own State. I knew it was on the way; I -knew that things were working in the right direction; I had even talked -with the new warden about some of these very changes; but here it was in -black and white, over the signatures of the warden, his deputy, two -chaplains, the prison doctor, and several representatives of the -prisoners themselves: all bearing witness to the new order of things; to -the facts already accomplished and to plans for the betterment of -existing conditions. Of the fifteen hundred convicts fifty have been for -several months employed on State roads under the supervision of two -unarmed guards. The fifty men were honor men and none have broken faith. -Two hundred more honor men will be sent out in the same way during the -summer of 1914. Another three hundred will work on the prison farm of -one thousand acres, erecting farm buildings and raising garden and farm -products for the prison and the stock, and gaining health for themselves -in a life practically free during working hours. - -To the men inside the prison walls the routine of daily life is wholly -altered. No longer do they eat in silence with downcast eyes; the table -is a meeting-place of human beings where talk flows naturally. No longer -is life one dull round from prison cell to shop, where talk and -movements of relaxation are forbidden; and back in silent march to -prison cell, with never a breath of fresh air except on the march to and -from the shops. This monotony is now broken by a recreation hour in the -open air every day, given in turn to companies of the men taken from the -workshops in which exchange of remarks is now allowed. In pleasant -weather this recreation is taken in games or other diversions involving -exercise. "Everything goes but fighting" is the liberal permission, and -recreation in cold weather takes the form of marching. - -From October to May, for five hours in the day, six days in the week, -school is in session in four separate rooms, the highest classes -covering the eighth grade of our public schools. Any prisoner may absent -himself from work one hour a day if desiring to attend the school, and -can pursue his studies in his cell evenings. Competent teachers are -found among the prisoners, and no guard is present during instruction -hours. Arrangements are now on foot for educational correspondence -connected with the State university. - -The time given to recreation and to education has not lessened the -output of the shops; on the contrary, the new spirit pervading the -prison has so energized the men, so awakened their ambition, that more -and better work is done in the shops than before. The grade of -"industrial efficiency" recently introduced serves as a further -incentive to skill and industry and will secure special recommendation -for efficiency when the men are free to take their own places in the -world. - -Nor is this all; for each prisoner as far as is practicable is assigned -work for which he is individually fitted. Men educated as physicians are -transferred from the shops to the staff of hospital assistants; honor -men qualified for positions where paid attendants have hitherto been -employed are transferred to these positions, thus reducing expenses. -Honor men having mechanical faculty are permitted during the evenings in -their cells to make articles, the sale of which gives them a little -money independently earned. Also in some of the prison shops the workers -are allowed a share in the profits. It is the warden's aim to utilize as -far as possible individual talent among his wards, to give every man -every possible chance to earn an honest living on his release; to make -the prison, as he puts it, "a school of citizenship." To every cell is -furnished a copy of the Constitution of the United States and of the -State in which the prison is located, with the laws affecting criminals. -Further instructions relating to American citizenship are given, and are -especially valuable to foreigners. - -But helpful as are all these changes in method, the real heart of the -change, the vital transforming quality is in the personal relation of -the warden to his wards. In conferences held in the prison chapel the -warden makes known his views and aims, speaking freely of prison -matters, endeavoring to inspire the men with high ideals of conduct and -to secure their intelligent and hearty co-operation for their present -and their future. Here it is also that the men are free to make known -their prison troubles, sure of the warden's sympathetic consideration of -means of adjustment. Heart and soul the warden is devoted to his work, -never losing sight of his ultimate aim of restoring to society -law-abiding citizens, but also feeling the daily need of these prisoners -for encouragement and for warm human sympathy. - -Mr. Fielding-Hall, after many years of practical experience with -criminals, reached the conclusion that humanity and compassion are -essential requisites in all attempts "to cure the disease of crime," and -the curative power of sympathy is old as the hills; it began with the -mother who first kissed the place to make it well; and from that day to -this the limit to the power of sympathy has never been compassed, when -sympathy is not allowed to evaporate as an emotion, but, hardened into a -motive, becomes a lever to raise the fallen. - -It is largely owing to the sympathy of the present warden that light and -air have come into the moral and mental atmosphere of this prison. In -the natures of the men qualities hitherto dormant and undiscovered have -come to the surface and are in the ascendant, aroused by the warden's -appeal to their manhood; and the warden's enthusiasm is the spark that -has touched the spirit of the subordinate officials and has fused into -unison the whole administration. And the warden is fortunate in the -combination of men working with him. His deputy, the disciplinarian of -the place, served for twenty-five years on the police force of Chicago, -a position directly antagonized to crime and yet affording exceptional -opportunity for the study of criminals. True to his colors as a -protector of society, he now feels that society is best protected -through the reclamation of those who have broken its laws; he believes -that the true disciplinarian is not the one who punishes most severely -but the one who trains his charges to join hands with him in the -maintenance of law and order within their little community; and he has -already reduced the punishment record for violation of rules to scarcely -more than one-tenth of former averages; and the shackling of men in the -punishment cells is abolished. - -The prison physician is an up-to-date man, fully in accord with the -views of the warden, and with admirable hospital equipment where -excellent surgical work is done when required. The two chaplains have a -missionary field of the highest opportunities, where a sympathetic -friendship for the prisoner during six days in the week becomes the -highway to their hearts on the seventh. - -The faces of the prisoners bear witness to the life-giving influences at -work among them; the downcast apathy has given place to an expression -of cheerful interest, and the prison pallor to a healthful color. And -the old prison buildings--the living tomb of hundreds of men--are -themselves now doomed. On the adjacent farm the prisoners will -eventually build new quarters, either one modern prison into which God's -sunlight and the free air of heaven will have access, or, better still, -a prison village, a community in detached buildings, after the plan -which has proven so satisfactory in other State institutions. - -And what of the women sent to prison in this State? For fifteen years -and more they have been housed in a separate institution. This has never -been a place of degradation. Every inmate has a light, well-ventilated, -outside room, supplied with simple furnishings and toilet conveniences; -white spreads cover the beds, and the home touch is evident in the -photographs and fancy-work so dear to the heart of woman. The prisoners -in their dress of blue-and-white check are neat and trim in appearance -as maids from Holland. They number but sixty-five, and conversation is -allowed. - -The women have a recreation playground for open-air exercise and an -assembly-room for evening entertainments. They are given industrial -training and elementary education; and though the discipline is firm the -life is kept normal as possible; and wilful violation of rules seldom -occurs. The present superintendent is a woman of exceptional -qualifications for the position--a woman of quick, responsive -sympathies, and wide experience, with fine executive ability. A -_thorough_ course in domestic science is fitting the women for domestic -service or future home-making, and some of them are skilled in fine -needle-work and embroidery. - -The lines in the old picture of prison life so deeply etched into my -consciousness are already fading; for while I know that in too many -States the awakening has not come, and the fate of the prisoner is still -a blot on our civilization, _the light has broken and the way is clear_. -Not only in my own State but to every State in the Union the death-knell -of the old penitentiary, with its noisome cells and dark dungeons, has -struck. The bloodless revolution of the reform movement is irresistible -simply because it is in line with human progress. - -Not until the present generation of criminals has passed away can -adequate results of the widespreading change in prison management be -expected; for a large percentage of our convicts to-day are the product -of crime-breeding jails, reformatories, and prisons. The "incorrigibles" -are all men who have been subjected to demoralizing and brutalizing -influences. In the blood-curdling outbreaks of gunmen and train-holdups -society is but reaping the harvest of evils it has allowed. Not until -police stations, jails, workhouses, reformatories, and prisons _are all -radically changed_ can any fair estimate be made of the value of the -recent humane methods. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -The basic principle of reform in those who prey upon society is the -changing of energies destructive into energies constructive. It is the -opening of fresh channels for human forces. Change of environment, the -breaking of every association connected with criminal pursuits, life in -the open in contrast with the tainted atmosphere of crowded tenements -and dance halls--all this has a healthful, liberating influence on the -mind; abnormal obsessions are relaxed, different brain-cells become -active, and the moral fibre of the man as well as his physical being -absorbs vital elements. That the laborer is entitled to a share in the -fruits of his labor is true the world over, and industry and efficiency -are stimulated by recognition of the relation of achievement to reward. - -Strict repressive discipline applied to organized enslavement of labor -is in direct violation of all these principles. The penal colony seems a -rational method of dealing with those whose permanent removal from our -midst is deemed necessary. Time and again have penal colonies given -satisfactory solution to the criminal problem. Virginia and Maryland -absorbed the human exports from English courts, and their descendants -joined in the building of a great nation; while the penal colony in -Australia resulted in a civilization of the first rank. While the -deportation of our criminals to-day may be neither practicable nor -desirable, the establishment of industrial penal communities in every -State, on a profit-sharing basis, is both practicable and desirable, and -would unquestionably result in the permanent reform of many who are now -a menace to public safety. - -Notwithstanding that progressive wardens are accomplishing all-important -changes in their domains, permanent reform work for convicts demands a -number of concessions in legislation. Until the contract system is -wholly and finally abolished in favor of the state-use system the power -of even the best warden will be limited. With the state-use system and -the prison farm the prisoners have a variety in opportunity of -industrial training almost as great as that offered on the outside. - -That the earnings of prisoners, beyond the cost of their maintenance, -should either be credited to the man himself or sent to the family -dependent upon him is but fair to the prisoner, and would relieve the -county from which he is sent from taxation toward the support of the -man's family. This is so obvious that it is now widely advocated for -both economic and humanitarian reasons, and in several States has -already been adopted. - -Another concession is of still greater importance, since its neglect has -been in direct violation not only of every principle of justice but of -common every-day honesty. This concession is the recognition of the duty -of the state to make what reparation is possible to the man who has -suffered imprisonment for a crime of which he was innocent. - -Years ago, during one of my visits to our penitentiary, a lawyer of wide -experience made the remark: "From what I know of court proceedings I -suppose twenty per cent of these convicts are innocent of the charge for -which they are here." I did not credit that statement, and afterward -repeated it to another lawyer, who said: "I should estimate the -percentage even higher." I did not believe that estimate either; nor do -I now believe it. But having worked up the cases and secured the pardons -of two innocent men, and having personally known two other men -imprisoned for crimes in which they took no part, I _know_ that innocent -men are sent to prison. Lawyers are prone to dispose of such instances -with the offhand remark, "Well, they might not have been guilty of that -particular act, but no doubt they had committed crimes for which they -escaped punishment." I have positive knowledge of only those four cases, -but in none of them was the convicted man from the criminal class. -Another remark which I have met is this: "Doubtless there are innocent -men in prison, but there are more guilty ones who escape," which reminds -one of Charles Lamb's admission: "Yes, I am often late to business in -the morning, but then I always go home early in the afternoon." -Plausible as the excuse sounds, it but aggravates the admission. - -It happened some years ago in my own State that a working man was -convicted of killing another. Henry Briggs asserted his innocence, but a -network of plausible evidence was drawn about him and he was sent to -prison for life. His widowed mother had faith in his innocence and paid -two thousand dollars to lawyers, who promised to secure her son's pardon -but accomplished nothing in that direction. Briggs had been in prison -some ten years when he told his story to me and I believed that he told -the truth. His home town was across the State from me, but I wrote the -ex-sheriff, who was supposed to know all about the case, that the -prisoner's mother would give another thousand dollars to him if he could -secure evidence of Henry's innocence and obtain his pardon. A long and -interesting correspondence followed, and at the end of two years -evidence of the man's innocence was secured and Henry Briggs was a free -man. In his last letter the sheriff wrote me: "To think that all these -twelve years that convicted man had been telling the absolute truth _and -it never occurred to any one to believe him_ until you heard his story." -But that ex-sheriff, who had collected his sheriff's fees and mileage -for taking an innocent man to prison--he was really indebted to the -prisoner for a neat little sum paid by the county--yet that sheriff had -no scruples in taking the thousand dollars from Mrs. Briggs for righting -a wrong which, he frankly admitted to me, he had taken part in -perpetrating. Now, in common honesty, in dollars and cents, the county -from which Henry was sent owed the Briggs mother and son at least ten -thousand dollars; instead of which the mother was left an impoverished -widow, while the son, with youth and health gone, had to begin life over -again. - -When men are maimed for life in a railroad accident the owners of the -road are obliged to pay a good round sum in compensation. The employer -is liable for damages when an employee is injured by defective -machinery; but to the victims of our penal machinery no compensation is -made by the state, at whose hands the outrage was committed. It is true -that the injured party is at liberty to bring suit against the -individual who charged him with the crime, but as the burned child -dreads the fire so the innocent man convicted of a crime dreads the -courts. - -But we are waking up to a sense of this most cruel robbery; the robbery -of a man's liberty, his earnings, his reputation, and too often his -health; and we are coming to see that compensation from the state, on -receiving convincing evidence of the man's innocence, is only the man's -just due--is even far less than fair play. - -To Wisconsin belongs the honor of taking the lead in this most -important reform, since in 1913 Wisconsin passed a law insuring -compensation in money from the State in every case where proof could be -furnished that one was not guilty of the crime for which he had suffered -imprisonment. A more just and righteous law was never passed. Money -alone can never compensate for unjust imprisonment, but the only -atonement possible is financial compensation and public vindication. - -The measures so far considered are all remedial; but while we have -recently made rapid progress in measures applied after men have been -sent to prison we have thought little of preventive measures. And just -here we face again the spirit of the times. - -All along the latter half of the nineteenth century men of -science--chemists, biologists, physicians--were studying preventive -measures to stem the tide of evil in the form of disease. Previously -medical science had been directed chiefly to battling with diseased -conditions already developed; but under the leadership of Pasteur and -Lord Lister the medical world was aroused to the fact that it was -possible to avert the terrible ravages of many of the diseases which -fifty years earlier had been accepted as visitations from Providence. -Henceforth "preventive measures" became watchwords among men devoting -themselves to the physical welfare of the race; and "preventive -measures" have also a most important relation to the moral welfare of -the community, and the way is opening for their application. - -For instance, the imprisonment of innocent men would be largely -prevented by the abolition of all fees in connection with arrests and -convictions. The system of rewards for arrests and convictions is -absolutely demoralizing to justice; for as long as the whole battalion -of men employed to protect the public have a direct financial interest -in the increase of crime it is unreasonable to expect decrease in the -number of men confined in our jails and prisons. An official inspector -of jails and police stations in my own State reports that she has -frequently had police officers admit to her that it was a great -temptation to arrest some poor devil, since the city paid fees for such -arrests; and she further states that in Chicago the entire basis of the -city penal administration is fees, and she adds: "What better inducement -could be offered to officials to penalize some unoffending stranger -looking for work?" All the evils arising from this abominable and -indefensible arrangement would be in a measure decreased by the simple -process of abolishing fees and increasing salaries. This has already -been done in some localities; and doubtless the coming generation will -wonder how the feeing system could ever have been adopted or tolerated. - -The most impregnable stronghold of inhumanity in dealing with persons -suspected of connection with crime is our police stations; especially is -this so in our larger cities. The police station and the feeing system -are the parent of one most barbarous custom; an evil most elusive, its -roots, like the roots of the vicious bindweed, so far underground, with -such complicated entanglement of relationships, as to be almost -ineradicable, involving in some instances State attorneys of good -standing, detectives, policemen, sheriffs--in fact, more or less -involving the whole force of agents supposed to be protectors of the -public. This abuse is called _the third degree_, or _the sweat-box_. - -A man is arrested, accused of a crime or of knowledge of a crime. Before -he is given any trial in any court unscrupulous means are resorted to -in order to extort an admission of crime or complicity in crime--or even -of knowledge connected with a crime. - -A physician who knew all the circumstances recently called my attention -to the case of a woman supposed to have some knowledge that might -implicate her husband in a burglary. The woman was an invalid. After -being kept for forty-eight hours without food or water, forced to walk -when she seemed likely to fall asleep from exhaustion, she was told that -her husband had deserted her, taken her child, and gone off with another -woman. She was by this time in a frantic condition, and when told that -her torture would cease with her admission of her husband's guilt, too -distracted to question his desertion of her, she gave false evidence -against her husband and was set free. - -The husband was in no way implicated in the crime, but the consequences -of the affair were disastrous to his business. He had never thought of -deserting his wife, but it was part of the scheme of the _third degree_ -to keep the husband and the lawyer whom he had engaged from seeing the -woman until the end sought was accomplished. - -A young lawyer told me of a most revolting _third degree_ scene -witnessed by him, and he told me the story as an instance of the -cleverness which devised a terrible nervous shock in order to throw a -supposedly guilty woman off her guard; the shock was enough to have -driven the woman raving insane. - -Whenever I have spoken of this subject to those familiar with -_sweat-box_ methods, the evil has been frankly admitted and -unhesitatingly condemned, but I hear always the same thing: "Yes, we -know that it is a terrible abuse, but we have not been able to prevent -it." It is simply a public crime that such a system should be tolerated -for one day. Mr. W. D. Howells has well said: "The law and order which -defy justice and humanity are merely organized anarchy." - -I have not hesitated to brand my own State with this _third-degree_ -evil, but I understand it is practised also in other States on the -pretext that the end justifies the means--but what if the end is the -life imprisonment of an innocent man? I have in mind a young man who was -subjected to four days of _sweat-box_ torture. At the end of that time, -when even death by hanging offered at least a respite from his -tormentors, he signed a statement, drawn up by those tormentors, to the -effect that he was guilty of murder. The boy was only eighteen, but was -sent to prison for life, though it now seems likely that he had nothing -to do with the crime. However, it is difficult to secure pardon for a -man sent to prison on his own confession; and there is just where the -injustice is blackest: it cuts from under a man's feet all substance in -a subsequent declaration of innocence, _for it stands on the records of -the case that he confessed his guilt_. - -There are of course many cases where the _third degree_ is not resorted -to; indeed, its use seems to be mainly confined to the cities where -police stations are a ring within a ring. In smaller towns after the -arrest is made the case usually comes to trial with no previous -unauthorized attempt to induce the prisoner to convict himself, and, if -the accused is a man of means who can employ an able lawyer, the trial -becomes a game between the opposing lawyers, and both sides have at -least a fair chance. Not so when the court appoints a lawyer for the -poor man. The prosecution then plays the game with loaded dice; for it -is the custom for the court to appoint the least experienced fledgling -in the profession. Los Angeles, Cal., has recently introduced an -admirable measure to secure a nearer approach to justice in the courts -for the poor man, by the appointment of a regular district attorney for -the defence of accused persons who are unable to pay for a competent -lawyer. This appointment of a public defender has been made solely with -the aim of securing justice for the poor and for the ignorant foreigner; -it is a most encouraging step in the right direction, and seems a -hopeful means of exterminating the _sweat-box_ system. - -We cannot hope to accomplish much with preventive measures until we -frankly face the causes of the evils we would reduce. That the saloon is -a prolific source of crime the records of all the courts unquestionably -prove; it is also one of the causes of the poverty which in its turn -becomes a cause of crime. The saloon is wholly in the hands of the -public, to be modified, controlled, or abolished according to the -dictates of the majority. This is not so easy as it sounds, but when we -realize that while the saloon-keeper reaps all the profits of his -business it is the taxpayer who is obliged to pay the expense of the -crimes resulting from that business, the question becomes one of public -economy as well as of public morals. The force which makes for social -evolution is bound to win in the long run, and the gradual elimination -of the saloon as it stands to-day is inevitable; and certain it is that -with the control of the saloon evil there will be a marked reduction in -the number of crimes committed. - -The criminal ranks receive annual reinforcement from a number of sources -now tolerated by a long-suffering public. We still have our army of -tramps, caused in part by defective management of county jails where men -are supported in enforced idleness at the expense of the working -community; the result also of unstable industrial conditions and far -greater competition, since women, by cutting wages, have so largely -taken possession of industrial fields. Constitutional restlessness and -aversion to steady work also cause men and boys to try the easy if -precarious tramp life; and in hard-luck times the slip into crime comes -almost as a matter of course. - -The trail of the banishment of the tramp evil has already been blazed -through Belgium, Holland, and Switzerland by the development of the farm -colony to which every tramp is rigidly sent. There he is subjected to an -industrial training involving recognition of individual ability, and -development along the lines to which he is best adapted. These farm -colonies are schools of industry where every man is obliged to work for -his living while there, and is fitted to earn a living when he leaves. -The results of these measures have been altogether satisfactory, and we -have but to adapt their methods to conditions in this country to -accomplish similar results. The elimination of the tramp is a necessary -safeguard to the community; and to the tramp himself it is rescue from -cumulative degradation. - -Mr. Fielding-Hall, an Englishman, at one time magistrate, later warden -of the largest prison in the world, and the most radical of -humanitarians, after years of exhaustive study of the causes of crime, -declares that society alone is responsible. He adds: "It is no use -saying that criminals are born, not made; they are made and they are -made by society." And it is true that in every community where human -beings are herded in foul tenements, herded in crowded, unsanitary -factories, or live their days underground in mines, we shall continue to -breed a class mentally, morally, and physically defective, some of whom -will inevitably be subject to criminal outbreaks. Poverty causes ill -health, and malnutrition saps the power of self-control. - -Medical science is even now telling us that there is probably no form of -criminal tendency unrelated to physiological defects: brain-cells -poisoned by disease; brain-cells defective either through heredity--as -in the offspring of the feeble-minded--or enfeebled through malnutrition -in childhood, the offspring of want; brains slightly out of balance; -and, more rarely, the criminal impulse developed as the result of direct -injury to the brain caused by a blow. Crimes are also committed under -temporary abnormal conditions such as "dual personality" or double -consciousness. In this diagnosis of crime we find ourselves next door to -a hospital; and this class of criminals does closely parallel what -alienists call "borderland cases," while the unscientific penologist has -carelessly classified them as "degenerates." Physicians tell us that -when Lombroso was studying "types," if he had invaded the charity -hospitals of large cities he would have found the same stunted, -undernourished, physically defective specimens of humanity that he -stigmatized as the "criminal type." - -Of two prisoners whom I knew well one was subject to slight attacks of -catalepsy, the other to epilepsy; each of these men had committed a -murder, and each said to me the same thing: "I had no reason to kill -that person and _I don't know why I did it_." Both these men were -religious and extremely conscientious; but when the "spells" came on -them they were irresponsible as a leaf blown by the wind; and while -passionately regretting their deeds of horror they seemed always to -regard the act as _something outside themselves_. - -None of us yet understand the interaction between the mental and -physical in the nature of man, but the fact of this interdependence is -clear; and while progressive prison wardens are sifting the human -material thrown into their hands, giving comparative freedom to "honor -men," and industrial training and elementary education to those within -the walls, they do not ignore the fact that there is a residue--they are -in all our prisons--a residue of men who cannot stand alone morally; -handicapped by causes for which they may not be responsible they cannot -hope to be "honor men" for they are moral invalids--often mental -invalids as well. That they should be kept under restraint goes without -saying. They need the control of a firm yet flexible hand, and they -should be under direct medical supervision; for back of their crimes may -be causes other than bad blood.[16] - -Improved factory laws, better housing of the poor, the enforcement of -regulations for public hygiene, the application of some of the saner -theories of eugenics, the work of district nurses, all these are on the -way to reduce the number of diseased or abnormal individuals who fall so -readily into crime. Already we have several recorded instances when a -blow on the head had caused uncontrollable criminal impulses, where -skilful brain surgery removed the pressure, and with the restoration of -the normal brain the nature of the individual recovered its moral -balance. Every large city should have its psychopathic detention -hospital in connection with its courts, to be resorted to in all cases -where there is doubt of the responsibility of any person accused of -crime, and every large penitentiary should have its psychopathic -department for men sent to prison from smaller towns. - -But when all is said and done, when the main sources of crime are -recognized and controlled, when sound sociology unites with Christianity -as the basis of management in every prison, when the "criminal type" of -Lombroso has been finally consigned to the limbo of exploded theories, -crime will still be with us, simply because human nature is human -nature; and whatever else human nature may be it _is_ a violent -explosive, whether we agree with Saint Paul as to "the old Adam" or -believe with the evolutionist that we are slowly emerging from the brute -and that the beast of prey still sleeps within us--not sleeping but -rampant in men and women allied in white-slave traffic and in those -responsible for the wholesale slaughter of mankind and the destruction -of property caused by war. Nothing short of the complete regeneration of -human nature can banish crime; and after we who call ourselves "society" -have done our best human nature will continue to break out in lawless -acts. As long as we have poverty in our midst desperate want will revolt -in desperate deeds, and poverty we shall have until the race has -reached a higher average of thrift and efficiency, and industrial -conditions are developed on a basis of fairness to all; and where there -is a weak link in the moral nature of a man undue pressure of -temptation, brought to bear on that link, will cause it to break, even -while in his heart the man may be hungering and thirsting for -righteousness. When the science of eugenics has given its helping hand -it will still be baffled by the appearance of the proverbial black sheep -in folds where heredity and environment logically should have produced -snowy fleece; and who among us dare assert that no infusion of bad blood -discolors his own tangled ancestry? - -All the evils of poverty, vice, and crime are but expressions of -imperfection of the human nature common to us all. The warp of the -fabric is the same, various as are the colors and tones, and the -strength of the threads of which the individual lives are woven. Whether -or not we realize it, all our efforts toward social reform indicate a -growing consciousness of the oneness of humanity. - -With all our imperfections, is not human nature sound at heart? Do we -not love that which seems to us good and hate the apparent evil? We do -not realize the insidious working of evil in ourselves; but when it is -revealed to us objectively, when it is thrown into relief by an outbreak -of evil deeds in others, our healthy instinctive impulse is to crush it. -Surely back of the religious and the legal persecutions has been the -desire to exterminate apparent evil; that desire is still with us but we -are learning better methods of handling it than to unleash the -bloodhounds of cruelty. We are beginning to understand that evil can be -conquered only by good. - -As the words of the Founder of Christianity first led me into my prison -experience, after all these years of study of the subject I find myself -coming out at the same door wherein I went, and believing that every -theory of social reform, including all the 'ologies, resolves itself in -the last analysis to a wise conformity to the Golden Rule. On the -fly-leaf of a little note-book which I carried when visiting the -penitentiary were pencilled these words: "The Christian religion is the -ministry of love and common sense," and I have lived to see the teaching -of Christianity forming the basis of prison reform, and science clasping -the hand of religion in this relation of man to man. Henceforth I shall -believe that _nothing is too good to be true_, not even the coming of -universal peace. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[16] The relation of the criminal to the defective and the insane had -been clear to me for many years, and I could not understand the -disregard of the courts to any fact so obvious to the student of the -three classes. But most valuable work in this line is now being done by -Dr. J. M. Hickson, of the psychological laboratory operated in -connection with the Chicago municipal court, and the results of his -tests of the mentality of young criminals are now commanding attention. -Dr. Hickson unhesitatingly declares the need of reform in our laws and -our courts. The existence of this psychopathic laboratory is largely due -to Judge Olson, of Chicago, a man of most advanced views on penology, -and a practical humanitarian. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Behind the Bars, by Winifred Louise Taylor - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS *** - -***** This file should be named 56112-8.txt or 56112-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/1/1/56112/ - -Produced by ellinora, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Man Behind the Bars - -Author: Winifred Louise Taylor - -Release Date: December 3, 2017 [EBook #56112] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS *** - - - - -Produced by ellinora, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> -A Table of Contents has been added.<br /></p></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<h1>THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS</h1> - -<p class="bold space-above">BY</p> - -<p class="bold">WINIFRED LOUISE TAYLOR</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">NEW YORK<br />CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br />1914</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1914, by</span><br /> - -CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br />———<br />Published October, 1914</p> - -<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">TO</p> - -<p class="center">MY PRISON FRIENDS</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE</h2> - -<p>Lest any one may charge me with extravagant optimism in regard to -convicts, or may think that to me every goose is a swan, I wish to say -that I have written only of the men—among hundreds of convicts—who -have most interested me; men whom I have known thoroughly and who never -attempted to deceive me. Every writer's vision of life and of humanity -is inevitably colored by his own personality, and I have pictured these -men as I saw them; but I have also endeavored, in using so much from -their letters, to leave the reader free to form his own opinion. -Doubtless the key to my own position is the fact that I always studied -these prisoners as men; and I tried not to obscure my vision by looking -at them through their crimes. In recalling conversations I have not -depended upon memory alone, as much of what was said in our interviews -was written out while still fresh in my mind.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p><p>I have no wish to see our prisons abolished; but thousands of -individuals and millions of dollars have been sacrificed to wrong -methods of punishment; and if we aim to reform our criminals we must -first reform our methods of dealing with them, from the police court to -the penitentiary.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Winifred Louise Taylor.</span></p> - -<p><i>August 6, 1914.</i></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CONTENTS</span></h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">PREFACE</td> - <td><a href="#Page_vii">vii</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER I</td> - <td><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER II</td> - <td><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER III</td> - <td><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER IV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER V</td> - <td><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER VI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER VII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER VIII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER IX</td> - <td><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER X</td> - <td><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XI</td> - <td><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XIII</td> - <td><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XIV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">CHAPTER XV</td> - <td><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS</p> - -<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p>I have often been asked: "How did you come to be interested in prisoners -in the first place?"</p> - -<p>It all came about simply and naturally. I think it was W. F. Robertson -who first made clear to me the truth that what we put into life is of -far more importance than what we get out of it. Later I learned that -life is very generous in its returns for what we put into it.</p> - -<p>In a quiet hour one day it happened that I realized that my life was out -of balance; that more than my share of things worth having were coming -to me, and that I was not passing them on; nor did I see any channel for -the passing on just at hand.</p> - -<p>The one thing that occurred to me was to offer my services as teacher in -a Sunday-school. Now, I chanced to be a member of an Episcopal church -and their Sunday-school was held at an hour <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>inconvenient for my -attendance; however, in our neighborhood was a Methodist church, and as -I had little regard for dividing lines among Christians I offered my -services the next Sunday to this Methodist Sunday-school. My preference -was for a class of young girls, but I was assigned as teacher to a class -of ten young men, of ages ranging between eighteen and twenty years, and -having the reputation of decided inclination toward the pomps and the -vanities so alluring to youth.</p> - -<p>It was the season of revival meetings, and within a month every member -of my class was vibrating under the wave of religious excitement, and -each one in turn announced his "conversion." I hardly knew how to handle -the situation, for I was still in my twenties, and as an Episcopalian I -had never experienced these storm periods of religious enthusiasm. So -while the recent converts were rejoicing in the newly found grace, I was -considering six months later when a reaction might set in.</p> - -<p>Toward the close of the revival one of the class said to me: "I don't -know what we're going to do with our evenings when the prayer-meetings -are over, for there's no place open every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> evening to the men in this -town except the saloons."</p> - -<p>"We must make a place where you boys can go," was my reply.</p> - -<p>What the class proceeded to do, then and there, was to form a club and -attractively furnish a large, cheerful room, to which each member had a -pass-key; and to start a small circulating library, at one stroke -meeting their own need and beginning to work outward for the good of the -community.</p> - -<p>The first contribution toward this movement was from a Unitarian friend. -Later, Doctor Robert Collyer—then preaching in Chicago—and Doctor E. -E. Hale, of Boston, each gave a lecture for the benefit of our infant -library. Thus from the start we were untrammelled by sectarianism, and -in three months a library was founded destined to become the nucleus of -a flourishing public library, now established in a beautiful Carnegie -building, and extending its beneficent influence throughout the homes, -the schools, and the workshops of the city.</p> - -<p>Of course I was immensely interested in the class, and in the success of -their library venture, and as we had no money to pay for the services<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> -of a regular librarian the boys volunteered their services for two -evenings in the week, while I took charge on Saturday afternoons. This -library was the doorway through which I entered the prison life.</p> - -<p>One Saturday a little boy came into the library and handed me the -charming Quaker love story, "Dorothy Fox," saying: "This book was taken -out by a man who is in jail, and he wants you to send him another book."</p> - -<p>Now, I had passed that county jail almost every day for years; its rough -stone walls and narrow barred windows were so familiar that they no -longer made any impression upon me; but it had not occurred to me that -inside those walls were human beings whose thoughts were as my thoughts, -and who might like a good story, even a refined story, as much as I did, -and that a man should pay money that he had stolen for three months' -subscription to a library seemed to me most incongruous.</p> - -<p>It transpired that the prisoner was a Scotch boy of nineteen, who, being -out of work, had stolen thirty-five dollars; taking small amounts as he -needed them. According to the law of the State the penalty for stealing -any amount under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> the value of fifteen dollars was a sentence to the -county jail, for a period usually of sixty days; while the theft of -fifteen dollars or more was a penitentiary offence, and the sentence -never for less than one year. I quote the statement of the case of this -Scotch boy as it was given me by a man who happened to be in the library -and who knew all the circumstances.</p> - -<p>"The boy was arrested on the charge of having taken ten dollars—all -they could prove against him; and he would have got off with a jail -sentence, but the fool made a clean breast of the matter, and now he has -to lie in jail for six months till court is in session, and then he will -be sent to the penitentiary on his own confession."</p> - -<p>Two questions arose in my mind: Was it only "the fool" who had made a -clean breast of the case? And if the boy was to go to prison on his own -confession, was it not an outrage that he should be kept in jail for six -months awaiting the formalities of the next session of the circuit -court? I did not then think of the taxpayers, forced to support this boy -in idleness for six months.</p> - -<p>That night I did not sleep very well; the Scotch boy was on my mind, all -the more vividly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>because my only brother was of the same age, and then, -too, the words, "I was in prison and ye visited me not," repeated -themselves with insistent persistence until I was forced to meet the -question, "Did these words really mean anything for to-day and now?"</p> - -<p>Next morning I asked my father if any one would be allowed to talk with -a prisoner in our jail. My father said: "Yes, but what would you have to -say to a prisoner?" "I could at least ask him what books he would like -from the library," I replied. But I could not bring my courage to the -point of going to the jail; it seemed a most formidable venture. Sunday, -Monday, and Tuesday passed, and still I held back; on Wednesday I was -driving with my brother, and when very near the jail the spring of the -carriage broke, and my brother told me that I would have to fill in time -somewhere until the break was repaired. I realized that the moment for -decision had come; and with a wildly beating heart I took the decisive -step, little dreaming when I entered the door of that jail that I was -committing myself to prison for life.</p> - -<p>But we all take life one day, one hour, at a time; and five minutes -later when my hand was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> clasped through the grated door, and two big -gray eyes were looking straight into mine, I had forgotten everything -else in my interest in the boy. I asked him why he told that he had -taken thirty-five dollars when accused only of having taken ten, and he -simply said: "Because when I realized that I had become a thief I wanted -to become an honest man and I thought that was the place to begin."</p> - -<p>Had I known anything of the law and its processes I should doubtless -have said: "Well, there's nothing for you to do now but to brace up and -meet your fate. There's nothing I can do to help you out of this -trouble." But in my fortunate ignorance of obstacles I said: "I'll see -what I can do to help you." I had only one thought—to save that young -man from the penitentiary and give him a fresh start in life.</p> - -<p>I began with the person nearest at hand, the sheriff's wife, and she -secured the sheriff as my first adviser; then I went to the wife of the -prosecuting attorney for the State, and she won her husband over to my -cause. One after another the legal difficulties were overcome, and this -was the way the matter was settled: I secured a good situation for Willy -in case of his release; Willy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> gave the man from whom he had taken the -money a note for the full amount payable in ninety days—the note signed -by my father and another responsible citizen; the case was given a -rehearing on the original charge of ten dollars, and Willy's sentence -was ten days in the county jail; and this fortunate settlement of the -affair was celebrated with a treat of oranges and peanuts for Willy and -his fellow prisoners. A good part of that ten days Willy spent in -reading aloud to the other men. Immediately after release he went to -work and before the expiration of the ninety days the note for -thirty-five dollars was paid in full. Now, this was the sensible, fair, -and human way of righting a wrong. Nevertheless, we had all joined hands -in "compounding a felony."</p> - -<p>With Willy's release I supposed my acquaintance with the jail was at an -end, but the boy had become interested in his companions in misery and -on his first visit to me he said: "If you could know what your visits -were to me you would never give up going to the jail as long as you -live." And then I gave him my promise. "Be to others what you have been -to me," has been the message given to me by more than one of these men.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p><p>While a prisoner Willy had made no complaint of the condition of things -in the jail, but after paying the note of his indebtedness, he proceeded -to buy straw and ticking for mattresses, which were made and sent up to -the jail for the other prisoners, while I furthered his efforts to make -the existence of those men more endurable by contributing various -"exterminators" calculated to reduce the number of superfluous -inhabitants in the cells.</p> - -<p>At the time I supposed that Willy was an exception, morally, to the -usual material from which criminals are made. I do not think so now, -after twenty-five years of friendships with criminals; of study of the -men themselves and of the conditions and circumstances which led to -their being imprisoned.</p> - -<p>Willy's was a kindly nature, responsive, yielding readily to surrounding -influences, not so much lacking in honesty as in the power of -resistance. Had he been subjected to the disgrace, the humiliation, and -the associations of a term in the penitentiary, where the first -requirement of the discipline is non-resistance, he might easily have -slipped into the ranks of the "habitual" criminal, from which it is so -difficult to find an exit. I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> not sure that Willy was never dishonest -again; but I am sure of his purpose to be honest; and the last that I -knew of him, after several years of correspondence, he was doing well, -running a cigar-stand and small circulating library in a Western town.</p> - -<p>From that beginning I continued my visits to the jail, usually going on -Sunday mornings when other visitors were not admitted. And on Sunday -mornings when the church-bells were calling, the prisoners seemed to -be—doubtless were—in a mood different from that of the week-days. -There's no doubt of the mission of the church-bells, ringing clear above -the tumult of the world, greeting us on Sunday mornings from the cradle -to the grave.</p> - -<p>I did not hold any religious services. I did not venture to prescribe -until I had found out what was the matter. It was almost always books -that opened the new acquaintances, for through the library I was able to -supply the prisoners with entertaining reading. They made their own -selections from our printed lists, and I was surprised to find these -selections averaging favorably with the choice of books among good -citizens of the same grade of education. There certainly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> was some -incongruity between the broken head, all bandages, the ragged apparel, -and the literary taste of the man who asked me for "something by George -Eliot or Thackeray."</p> - -<p>A short story read aloud was always a pleasure to the men behind the -bars; more than once I have been able to form correct conclusions as to -the guilt or the innocence of a prisoner by the expression of his face -when I was reading something that touched the deeper springs of human -nature. And my sense of humor stood me in good stead with these men; for -there's no freemasonry like that of the spontaneous smile that springs -from the heart; and after we had once smiled together we were no longer -strangers.</p> - -<p>One early incident among my jail experiences left a vivid impression -with me. A boy of some thirteen summers, accused of stealing, was -detained in jail several weeks awaiting trial, with the prospect of the -reform school later. In appearance he was attractive, and his youth -appealed to one's sympathy. Believing that he ought to be given a better -chance for the future than our reform schools then offered, I tried to -induce the sheriff to ask some farmer to take him in hand. The sheriff -demurred, saying that no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> farmer would want the boy in his family, as he -was a liar and very profane, and consequently I dropped the subject.</p> - -<p>In the jail at the same time was a man of forty or over who frankly told -me that he had been a criminal and a tramp since boyhood, that he had -thrown away all chances in life and lost all self-respect forever. I -took him at his own valuation and he really seemed about as hopeless a -case as I have ever encountered. One lovely June evening when I went -into the corridor of the jail to leave a book, this old criminal called -me beside his cell for a few words.</p> - -<p>"Don't let that boy go to the reform school," he began earnestly. "The -reform school is the very hotbed of crime for a boy like that. Save him -if you can. Save him from a life like mine. Put him on a farm. Get him -into the country, away from temptation."</p> - -<p>"But the sheriff tells me he is such a liar and swears so that no decent -people would keep him," I replied.</p> - -<p>"I'll break him of swearing," said the man impetuously, "and I'll try to -break him of lying. Can't he see what <i>I</i> am? Can't he <i>see</i> what he'll -come to if he doesn't brace up? I'm a living<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> argument—a living example -of the folly and degradation of stealing and lying. I can't ever be -anything but what I am now, but there's hope for that boy if some one -will only give him a chance, and I want you to help him."</p> - -<p>The force of his appeal was not to be resisted, and I agreed to follow -his lead in an effort to save his fellow prisoner from destruction. As I -stood there in the twilight beside this man reaching out from the wreck -and ruin of his own life to lend a hand in the rescue of this boy, if -only the "good people" would do their part, I hoped that Saint Peter and -the Recording Angel were looking down. And as I said good night—with a -hand-clasp—I felt that I had touched a human soul.</p> - -<p>The man kept his word, the boy gave up swearing and braced up generally, -and I kept my part of the agreement; but I do not know if our combined -efforts had a lasting effect on the young culprit.</p> - -<p>As time passed many of these men were sent from the jail to the State -penitentiary, and often a wife or family was left in destitution; and -the destitution of a prisoner's wife means not only poverty but -heart-break, disgrace, and despair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> Never shall I forget the first time -I saw the parting of a wife from her husband the morning he was taken to -prison. A sensitive, high-strung, fragile creature she was; and going -out in the bitter cold of December, carrying a heavy boy of eighteen -months and followed by an older girl, she seemed the very embodiment of -desolation. I have been told by those who do not know the poor that they -do not feel as we do, that their sensibilities are blunted, their -imagination torpid. Could we but know! Could we but know, we should not -be so insensate to their sufferings. It is we who are dull. To that -prisoner's wife that morning life was one quivering torture, with -absolutely no escape from agonizing thoughts. Her "home" to which I went -that afternoon was a cabin in which there was one fire, but scant food, -and no stock of clothing; the woman was ignorant of charitable societies -and shrinking from the shame of exposing her needs as a convict's wife.</p> - -<p>It is not difficult to make things happen in small towns when people -know each other and live within easy distances. In less time, really -less actual time than it would have taken to write a paper for the -Woman's Club on "The Problems<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> of Poverty," this prisoner's wife was -relieved from immediate want. To tell her story to half a dozen -acquaintances who had children and superfluous clothing, to secure a -certain monthly help from the city, was a simple matter; and in a few -months the woman was taking in sewing—and doing good work—for a -reliable class of patrons.</p> - -<p>I have not found the poor ungrateful; twenty years afterward this woman -came to me in prosperity from another town, where she had been a -successful dressmaker, to express once more her gratitude for the -friendship given in her time of need. Almost without exception with my -prisoners and with their families I have found gratitude and loyalty -unbounded.</p> - -<p>When the men sent from the jail to the penitentiary had no family they -naturally wrote to me. Sometimes they learned to write while in jail or -after they reached the prison just for the pleasure of interchanging -letters with some one. All prison correspondence is censored by some -official; and as my letters soon revealed my disinterested relation to -the prisoners, the warden, R. W. McClaughrey, now of national fame, sent -me an invitation to spend several days as his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> guest, and thus to become -acquainted with the institution.</p> - -<p>It was a great experience, an overwhelming experience when first I -realized the meaning of prison life. I seemed to be taken right into the -heart of it at once. The monstrous unnaturalness of it all appalled me. -The great gangs of creatures in stripes moving in the lock-step like -huge serpents were all so unhuman. Their dumb silence—for even the eyes -of a prisoner must be dumb—was oppressive as a nightmare. The hopeless -misery of the men there for life; already entombed, however long the -years might stretch out before them, and the wild entreaty in the eyes -of those dying in the hospital—for the eyes of the dying break all -bonds—these things haunted my dreams long afterward. Later I learned -that even in prison there are lights among the shadows, and that sunny -hearts may still have their gleams of sunshine breaking through the -darkness of their fate; but my first impression was one of unmitigated -gloom. When I expressed something of this to the warden his response -was: "Yes, every life here represents a tragedy—a tragedy if the man is -guilty, and scarcely less a tragedy if he is innocent."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>As the guest of the warden I remained at the penitentiary for several -days and received a most cordial standing invitation to the institution, -with the privilege of talking with any prisoner without the presence of -an officer. The unspeakable luxury to those men of a visit without the -presence of a guard! Some of the men with whom I talked had been in -prison for ten years or more with never a visitor from the living world -and only an occasional letter.</p> - -<p>My visits to the penitentiary were never oftener than twice a year, and -I usually limited the list of my interviews to twenty-five. With -whatever store of cheerfulness and vitality I began these interviews, by -the time I had entered into the lives of that number of convicts I was -so submerged in the prison atmosphere, and the demand upon my sympathy -had been so exhausting, that I could give no more for the time. I found -that the shortest and the surest way for me to release myself from the -prison influence was to hear fine stirring music after a visit to the -penitentiary. But for years I kept my list up to twenty-five, making new -acquaintances as the men whom I knew were released. Prisoners whom I did -not know would write me requesting interviews, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> the men whom I knew -often asked me to see their cell-mates, and I had a touch-and-go -acquaintance with a number of prisoners not on my lists.</p> - -<p>Thus my circle gradually widened to include hundreds of convicts and -ex-convicts of all grades, from university men to men who could not -read; however, it was the men who had no friends who always held the -first claim on my sympathy; and as the years went on I came more and -more in contact with the "habitual criminals," the hopeless cases, the -left-over and forgotten men; some of them beyond the pale of interest -even of the ordinary chaplain—for there are chaplains and chaplains, as -well as convicts and convicts.</p> - -<p>I suppose it was the very desolation of these men that caused their -quick response to any evidence of human interest. In their eagerness to -grasp the friendship of any one who remembered that they were still -men—not convicts only—these prisoners would often frankly tell the -stories of their lives; admitting guilt without attempt at extenuation. -No doubt it was an immense relief to them to make a clean breast of -their past to one who could understand and make allowance.</p> - -<p>This was not always so; some men lied to me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> and simply passed out of my -remembrance; but I early learned to suspend judgment, and when I saw -that a man was lying through the instinct of self-defence, because he -did not trust me, I gave him a chance to "size me up," and reassure -himself as to my trustworthiness. "Why, I just couldn't go on lying to -you after I saw that you were ready to believe in me," was the candid -admission of one who never lied to me again.</p> - -<p>Among these convicts I encountered some unmistakable degenerates. The -most optimistic humanitarian cannot deny that in all classes of life we -find instances of moral degeneracy. This fact has been clearly -demonstrated by sons of some of our multimillionaires. And human nature -does not seem to be able to stand the strain of extreme poverty any -better than it stands the plethora caused by excessive riches. The true -degenerate, however, is usually the result of causes too complicated or -remote to be clearly traced. But throughout my long experience with -convicts I have known not more than a dozen who seemed to me -black-hearted, deliberate criminals; and among these, as it happened, -but one was of criminal parentage. Crime is not a disease; but there's -no doubt that disease often<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> leads to crime. Of the defective, the -feeble-minded, the half-insane, and the epileptic there are too many in -every prison; one is too many; but they can be counted by the hundreds -in our aggregate of prisons. Often warm-hearted, often with strong -religious tendencies, they are deficient in judgment or in moral -backbone. The screw loose somewhere in the mental or physical make-up of -these men makes the tragedies, the practically hopeless tragedies of -their lives; though there may never have been one hour when they were -criminal through deliberate intention. Then there are those whose crimes -are simply the result of circumstances, and of circumstances not of -their own making. Others are prisoners unjustly convicted, innocent of -any crime; but every convict is classed as a criminal, as is inevitable; -and under the Bertillon method of identification his very person is -indissolubly connected with the criminal records. Even in this twentieth -century, in so many directions an age of marvellous progress, there is a -menacing tendency among legislators to enlarge the borders of life -sentences—<i>not</i> according to the number of crimes a man may have -committed, but according to the number of times a man has been convicted -in courts <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>notoriously indifferent to justice; too often according to -the number of times the man has been "the victim of our penal -machinery."</p> - -<p>I well remember a man three times sent from my own county to the -penitentiary for thefts committed during the brain disturbance preceding -epileptic convulsions. On one occasion, between arrest and conviction, I -saw the man in an unconscious state and in such violent convulsions that -it was necessary to bind him to the iron bedstead on which he lay. I -knew but little of physiological psychology then; and no one connected -the outbreaks of theft with the outbreaks of epilepsy. And the man, -industrious and honest when well, was in consequence of epileptic mental -disturbance convicted of crime and sent to the penitentiary, and owing -to previous convictions from the same cause was classed as an "habitual -criminal."</p> - -<p>Like instances of injustice resulting from ignorance are constantly -occurring. In our large cities where "railroading" men to prison is -purely a matter of business, no consideration is given to the individual -accused, he is no longer a human being, he is simply "a case." A very -able and successful prosecuting attorney—success <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>estimated by the -number of "cases" convicted—once said to me: "I have nothing to do with -the innocence of the man: <i>I'm here to convict</i>."</p> - -<p>By far the most brutal man whom I have ever personally encountered was a -modern prototype of the English judge, Lord George Jeffreys—a judge in -one of our large cities, who had held in his unholy hands the fate of -many an accused person. However, with this one exception, in my -experience with judges I have found them courteous, fair-minded, and -glad to assist me when convinced that a convict had not been accorded -justice.</p> - -<p>We find in the prisons the same human nature as in the churches; far -differently developed and manifested; but not so different after all, as -we should expect, remembering the contrast between the home influence, -the education, environment, and opportunity of the inmates of our -prisons with that of the representatives of our churches. In our prisons -we find cowardice, brutality, dishonesty, and selfishness. Are our -church memberships altogether free from these defects? Surely, -unquestionably, in our churches we do find the highest virtues: love, -courage, fortitude, tenderness, faithfulness, unselfishness. And in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> -every prison in this land these same virtues—love, tenderness, courage, -fortitude, faithfulness, unselfishness—are to be found; often hidden in -the silence of the heart, but living sparks of the divine life which is -our birthright. And yet between these prisons and the churches there has -long existed an almost impassable barrier of distrust, equally strong on -both sides.</p> - -<p>I once called with a friend upon the wife of a convict who, relating an -incident in which she had received great kindness from a certain lady -very prominent in church circles, said: "I was so surprised: I could not -understand her being so kind—<i>for she was a Christian</i>." "Why, there's -nothing strange in the kindness of a Christian," said my friend. "Miss -Taylor and I are both Christians." The prisoner's wife paused a moment, -then said, with slow emphasis: "<i>That is impossible</i>."</p> - -<p>We all have our standards and ideals, not by which we live but by which -we judge one another. This woman knew the sweat-shops and she knew that -Christian as well as Jew lived in luxury from the profits derived from -the labor of the sweat-shops, and of the underpaid shop-girls. To her -the great city churches meant oppression and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> selfishness, power and -wealth, arrayed against poverty and weakness, against fair pay and fair -play. Her own actual personal experience with some persons classed as -Christians had been bitter and cruel; thus her vision was warped and her -judgment misled. Much of the same feeling had prevailed through the -prisons; and I know that one reason why so many of "the incorrigibles" -gave me their confidence was owing to the word passed round among them: -"You can trust her; <i>she is no Christian</i>."</p> - -<p>This has a strange sound to us. But it does not sound strange at all -when we hear from the other side: "You can't trust that man—he's been a -convict."</p> - -<p>Through the genius, the energy, the spiritual enthusiasm of that -remarkable woman known among prisoners as "The Little Mother," the -barrier between the churches and the prisons is recently and for the -time giving way on the one side. The chaplains are taken for granted as -part of the prison equipment, and their preaching on Sunday as the work -for which they are paid. But "The Little Mother" comes from the outside, -literally giving her life to secure a chance for ex-convicts in this -world. She brings to the prisons<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> a fresh interpretation of the -Christian religion, as help for the helpless, as a friend to the -friendless. In her they find at once their ideal of human goodness and a -lovely womanhood, and through her they are beginning to understand what -the Christian churches intend to stand for. But to undermine the barrier -on the side of society—to bring about a better understanding of the -individuals confined behind the walls which society still believes -necessary in self-protection—is, in the very nature of the case, a far -more difficult undertaking. Almost inaccessible to the outsider is the -heart of a convict, or the criminal's point of view of life. In fact -their hearts and their points of view differ according to their natures -and experiences. But to think of our prisoners in the mass—the thousand -or two thousand men cut off from the world and immured in each of our -great penitentiaries—is to think of them as the Inarticulate. The -repression of their lives has been fearful. All that was required of -them was to be part of the machinery of the prison system; to work, to -obey, to maintain discipline. Absolutely nothing was done to develop the -individual. The mental and psychic influence of the prison has been -indescribably stifling and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> deadening. Every instinctive impulse of -movement, the glance of the eye, the smile of understanding, the stretch -of weary muscles, the turning of the head, all must be guarded or -repressed. The whole tendency of prison discipline has been to detach -the individual from his fellow man; at all costs to prevent -communication between convicts; and to stifle all expression of -individuality except between cell-mates when the day's work was over. -And companionship of cell-mates is likely to pall when the same two men -are confined in a seven-by-four cell for three hundred and sixty-five -evenings in a year. Gradually but inevitably the mind dulls; mental -impressions lose their clear outlines and the faculties become -atrophied. I have seen this happen over and over again.</p> - -<p>When first the drama of prison life began to unfold before me I looked -for some prisoner to tell the story; he only could know what it really -meant. But the desire to forget, to shake off all association, even the -very thought of having been connected with convict life, has been the -instinctive aim of the average man seeking reinstatement in society. -Occasionally a human document from the pen of an ex-convict appeared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> in -print, but few of them were convincing. The writer's own consciousness -of having been a convict may have prevented him from striking out from -the shoulder, from speaking as man to man, or something in the mind of -the reader may have discounted the value of the statement coming from an -ex-convict; more likely than either the spirit was so gone out of the -man before his release that he had no heart or courage to grapple with -the subject; and he, too, shared the popular belief that prisons are -necessary—for others.</p> - -<p>It was the poet and the artist in Oscar Wilde that made it -possible—perhaps inevitable—for him to rend the veil that hides the -convict prison execution, and to etch the horror in all its blackness—a -scaffold silhouetted against the sky—in "The Ballad of Reading Gaol." -The picture is a masterpiece, and it is the naked truth; more effective -with the general reader than his "De Profundis," which is no less -remarkable as literature but is more exclusively an analysis of Oscar -Wilde's own spiritual development during his prison experience. The -Russian writer Dostoyevski, also with pen dipped in the tears and blood -of actual experience, has given scenes of Russian convict life so -terrible and intense that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> the mind of the reader recoils with horror, -scoring one more black mark against Russia and thanking God that in our -dealings with convicts we are not as these other men. But not long ago a -cry from the inside penetrated the walls of a Western prison in "Con -Sordini," a poem of remarkable power, written by a young poet-musician -who, held by the clutches of the law, was suffering an injustice which a -Russian would be slow to indorse. No doubt other gifted spirits will -have their messages. But in the mind of the public, genius seemed to -lift these men out of the convict into the literary class, and their -most human documents were too likely to be regarded only as -literature.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>Genius is rare in all classes of life and my prison friends were of the -common clay. The rank and file of our convicts are almost as -inarticulate as dumb, driven cattle, many of them incapable of tracing -the steps by which they fell into crime or of analyzing the effects of -imprisonment. Some of them have not learned how to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> handle words and -find difficulty in expressing thoughts or feelings; especially is this -true of the ignorant foreigners.</p> - -<p>One of the men whom I knew, not a foreigner, but absolutely illiterate, -early fell into criminal life, and before he was twenty years old was -serving a sentence of life imprisonment. After a period of unspeakable -loneliness and mental misery he was allowed attendance at the prison -evening school. He told me that he could not sleep for joy and -excitement when first he realized that through printed and written words -he could come into communication with other minds, find companionship, -gain information, and come in touch with the great free world on the -outside.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>As I look back through my twenty-five years of prison friendship it is -like looking through a long portrait-gallery, only the faces are living -faces and the lips unite in the one message: "We, too, are human beings -of like nature with yourselves." To me, however, each face brings its -own special message, for each one in turn has been my teacher<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> in the -book of life. And now for their sakes I am going to break the seal of my -prison friendships, and to let some of these convicts open their hearts -to the world as they have been opened to me, and to give their vision of -human life; to draw the picture as they have seen it. Some of them bear -the brand of murderer, others belong to the class which the law -denominated as "incorrigible." I believe I had the reputation of knowing -the very worst men in the prison, "the old-timers." It could not have -been true that my friends were among the worst men there, for my prison -friendships, like all friendships, were founded upon mutual confidence; -and never once did one of these men betray my trust.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Recent periodicals have given many disclosures convincing -to the public from men who know only too well the cruel and barbarous -conditions of convict life. I have long held that no judge should be -authorized to sentence a man to prison until the judge knew by -experience what prison life really was. And now we are having authentic -reports from those in authority who have taken a voluntary experience of -convict life.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> In 1913 an <i>Intra-Mural School</i> was started in the Maryland -penitentiary, and the story of its effect on the minds and the conduct -of the thirty per cent of illiterate individuals in that prison is most -interesting. It unquestionably confirms my statement that the rank and -file of our convicts are inarticulate.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p>Not only did the prisoners whom I knew never betray my confidence, but -ex-convicts who knew of me through others sometimes came to me for -advice or assistance in getting work; and many an odd job about our -place was well done by these men, who never gave us cause to regret our -confidence in them. A stranger fresh out of jail applied to me one cold -December day just before the holidays. I was in the high tide of -preparations for Christmas, and to this young man I gladly intrusted the -all-day work of trimming the house with holly and evergreen under my -direction, and never was it done more effectively or with more of the -Christmas spirit. The man had a beautiful time and confided to my mother -his longing to have a home of his own. He left us at evening with a -heart warmed by the vision of a real home, and his pay supplemented by a -good warm overcoat. These men used to make all sorts of frank admissions -to me in discussing their difficulties. I remember one man saying:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>"I want to be an honest man; I don't like this kind of a life with all -its risks; I want to settle down, but I never can get a start. Now, if I -could just make a clean steal of one hundred dollars I could get some -decent clothes, pay in advance at a respectable boarding-house; then I -could get a job and I could keep it; but no one will give me work as I -am, and no one will trust me for board." And that was the hard fact. As -the man was leaving he asked:</p> - -<p>"Could you give me one or two newspapers?" As I handed him the papers he -explained: "You see, if a fellow sleeps on the bottom of a freight-car -these cold nights—as I am likely to do—it's not quite so cold and hard -with a newspaper under you, and if I button them under my coat it isn't -quite so cold out-of-doors." It was no wonder that the man wanted to -settle down.</p> - -<p>Several incidents of honor among thieves are recorded in the annals of -our household. One evening as we were starting for our usual drive my -mother exclaimed: "Stop a minute! There is Katy's sweetheart, and I want -to speak to him."</p> - -<p>Katy was our cook and her sweetheart was a stout, blond working man -closely resembling the one walking up our front driveway. My mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> -stopped the man and gave him this bit of information:</p> - -<p>"The house is all open and any one could go in and help himself. I wish -you would ask Katy to lock the front door." The man bowed, and we drove -on.</p> - -<p>When we returned Katy reported that a strange man had come to the -kitchen door and told her that the mistress wished her to lock the front -door. She left the man while she did this and found him waiting when she -came back. Then he asked her for something to eat, stating that he was -just out of prison, and wished to see Miss —— (mentioning my name). -The cook gave him a lunch and made an appointment for me to see him next -day.</p> - -<p>Katy did not resent the man's being taken for her Joe, for she noticed -the resemblance, but there was reproach in her tone as she added: "But -you know Joe always dresses up when he comes to see me."</p> - -<p>At the appointed hour the man came again, bringing me a message from an -acquaintance, a fellow convict who had been his cell-mate in prison. He -did not refer to the fact that had he chosen he might have taken -advantage of the information received from my mother, but no better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> -plan for a robbery could have been devised than the circumstance that -fell ready to his hand.</p> - -<p>But of all the ex-convicts employed at various times on our place the -one in whom the family took the greatest interest was George—his other -name does not matter because it was changed so often.</p> - -<p>One Sunday morning I found George the only prisoner in our county jail. -He was a thief awaiting trial at the next term of court several weeks -ahead. He had "shifty" eyes and a sceptical smile, was thin, unkempt, -and altogether unprepossessing; but I did not think so much of that as -of his loneliness. He was reserved concerning himself but seemed to have -some education and a taste for reading, so I supplied him with books -from the library and called on him once or twice a week; but I made slow -progress with acquaintance, and one day George said to me:</p> - -<p>"I understand perfectly why it is that you come to see me and bring me -things to read; <i>you think that you will gain a higher place in heaven -when you die</i>." In other words, George thought that I was using him as a -stepping-stone for my own advantage—his sceptical smile was not for -nothing.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p><p>How I disarmed his suspicions I do not know; but in the weeks that -followed before he was taken to prison we came to know each other very -well. The prison life was hard on George, so hard that when I first saw -him in the convict stripes I did not know him, so emaciated had he -become; and I was startled when his smile disclosed his identity. -Clearly he would be fit for no honest work when released from prison. He -made no complaint—he did not need to, for his appearance told the story -only too well. George was an insignificant-looking man, only one of the -hundreds consigned to that place of punishment, and by mere chance had -been given work far beyond his strength. When I called the warden's -attention to George he was immediately transferred to lighter work, and -was in better condition when I saw him next time.</p> - -<p>And then we had some long and serious talks about his way of life, which -he invariably defended on the score that he would rather be "a downright -honest thief" than to get possession of other people's property under -cover of the law, or to grind the poor in order to pile up more money -than any one could honestly possess. George <i>thought</i> that he really -believed all business men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> ready to take any unfair advantage of others -so long as their own safety was not endangered.</p> - -<p>With the expiration of this term in prison George's letters to me ceased -for a while, to be resumed later from a prison in another State where he -was working in the greenhouses and had become interested in the flowers. -That gave me my chance.</p> - -<p>In a fortunate hour I had encountered a little story by Edward Everett -Hale, "How Mr. Frye Would Have Preached It," and that story had formed -my ideal of loyalty to my prisoners when once they trusted me, and by -this time I had won the confidence of George. Accordingly, I wrote -George a Christmas letter making a direct appeal to his better -nature—for I knew it was there—and I asked him to come to me on his -release the following July, which he was glad to do.</p> - -<p>Now, my mother had always been sympathetic with my interest in -prisoners, and she dearly loved her flower garden, and had difficulty in -finding intelligent help in the care of her flowers. She knew that -George was just out of prison, and after introducing him as a man who -might help her with her roses I left them together.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p><p>A few minutes later my mother came to me and reported:</p> - -<p>"I don't like the looks of your George: he looks like a thief."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I answered, "you know he has been a thief, and if you don't want -him I'll try and get another place for him."</p> - -<p>But the flowers were pulling at my mother's heart and she decided to -give George a trial. And what a good time they both had that summer! It -was beautiful to see the two together morning after morning, caring for -those precious flowers as if they were babies. My mother had great -charm, and George was devoted to her and proved an altogether -satisfactory gardener. Unquestionably the two months that George spent -with us were the happiest of his life. My mother at once forgot all her -misgivings as to his honesty and came to regard him as her special ally; -she well knew that he would do anything in his power to serve her.</p> - -<p>One afternoon my mother informed me that she was going driving with the -family that evening—she was always nervous about "leaving the house -alone"—and that the maids were going to be out, too; "but George is -going to stay in charge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> of the house, so everything will be all right -and I shall not worry," she said with all confidence.</p> - -<p>I smiled; but I had no misgiving, and sure enough we all went off, not -even locking up the silver; while George, provided with newspapers and -cigars, was left in charge.</p> - -<p>On our return, some two hours later, I noticed that George was unusually -serious and silent, and apparently didn't see any joke in the situation, -as he had on a former occasion when I sent him for something in a closet -where the family silver was in full view. He told me afterward that the -time of our absence covered the longest two hours of his life, and the -hardest to bear.</p> - -<p>My home is on the edge of the town in the midst of twelve acres with -many trees. "You had not more than gone," said George, "when I began to -think 'what if some one should come to rob the house and I could not -defend it. And they could <i>never know</i> that I had not betrayed their -trust.'"</p> - -<p>George spent his Sundays under our trees, sometimes on guard in the -orchard, which rather amused him; and I generally gave him an hour of my -time, suggesting lines of work by which he could honestly earn his -living, and trying my best<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> to raise his moral standards. But he -reserved his right to plan the general course of his life, or, as he -would have said, to follow his own line of business. He knew that his -work with us was but for the time, and he would never commit himself as -to his future. This was the way he stated his position:</p> - -<p>"I have no health; I like a comfortable place to sleep and good things -to eat; I like a good class of entertainments and good books, and to buy -magazines and send them to my friends in prison, and I like to help a -man when he is just out of prison. Now, you ask me to forego all this; -to work hard just to earn the barest living—for I could never earn big -wages; you ask me to deny myself everything I care for just for the sake -of a moral idea, when nobody in the world but you cares whether I go to -the devil or not, and I don't really believe in either God or devil. -Now, how many churchgoing men do you know who would give up a -money-making business and accept the barest poverty and loneliness just -for the sake of a moral idea?" And I wondered how many, indeed.</p> - -<p>However, for all his arguments in defence of his way of life, when the -time came to leave us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> better desires had taken root. My mother's taking -his honesty for granted had its effect, and seemed to commit him to an -effort in the right direction. We had fitted him out with respectable -clothing and he had earned money to last several weeks. My mother gave -him a letter of recommendation as gardener and he left us to seek -employment in the parks of a large city.</p> - -<p>But his appearance was against him and he had no luck in the first city -where he applied; the time of the year, too, was unfavorable; and before -his money had quite melted away he invested the remainder in a peddler's -outfit of needles and other domestic requisites. These he sold among the -wives of farmers, and in that way managed to keep body and soul together -for a time. Frequent letters kept me informed of his whereabouts, though -little was said of his hardships.</p> - -<p>One morning George appeared at our door seeming more dulled and -depressed than I had ever seen him. He stayed for an hour or more but -was not very communicative. It was evident, however, that he had found -the paths of honesty quite as hard as the way of the transgressor. As he -was leaving he said:</p> - -<p>"You may not believe me, but I walked all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> night in order to have this -visit with you. I was off the railroad and couldn't otherwise make -connections with this place in time to keep an appointment with a friend -this evening; and I wanted to see you."</p> - -<p>He hurried away then without giving me time for the inevitable surmise -that the "friend" whom he was to meet was an "old pal," and leaving me -to question whether I had another friend on earth who would walk all -night in order to see me.</p> - -<p>Only once again did I see George; he was looking more prosperous then, -and handed me a ten-dollar bill, saying: "At last I can return the money -you lent me; I wanted to long ago but couldn't."</p> - -<p>I did not remember having lent him the money, and so I told him. "But I -want you to take it anyway," he said.</p> - -<p>And then, brought face to face with the thief in the man, I replied:</p> - -<p>"I cannot take from you money that is not honestly yours."</p> - -<p>Flushing deeply he slowly placed the bill among some others, saying: -"All right, but I wanted you to take it because I knew that you would -make better use of it than I shall." Never had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> the actual dividing line -between honesty and dishonesty been brought home to George as at that -moment; I think for once he realized that right and wrong are white and -black, not gray.</p> - -<p>For some years after I had occasional notes from George; I answered them -if an address was given, but his was then a roving life. Always at -Christmas came a letter from him with the season's greetings to each -member of the family, and usually containing a line to the effect that -he was "still in the old business." When my sister was married, on my -mother's golden wedding-day, among the notes of congratulation to the -bride of fifty years before and the bride of the day was one from -George; and through good or ill report George never lost his place in -the regard of my mother.</p> - -<p>His last letter was written from an Eastern Catholic hospital where he -had been ill. Convalescent he then was "helping the sisters," and he -hoped that they might give him employment when he was well. Helpful I -knew he would be, and loyal to those who trusted him. I wrote him at -once but received no reply; and the chances are, as I always like to -think, that the last days of George were apart from criminal -associations,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> and that the better elements in his nature were in the -ascendant when the end came.</p> - -<p>I believe George was the only one of my prisoners who even made a bluff -in defence of the kind of life he had followed; and in his heart he knew -that it was all wrong. I do not defend him, but I do not forget that the -demoralization of the man, his lack of moral grip, was the logical -product of the schools of crime, the jails, and prisons in which so much -of his youth was passed. Yes, the life of George stands as a moral -failure; and yet as long as flowers bloom in that garden where he and my -mother spent so many pleasant hours helping the roses to blossom more -generously, so long will friendly memories cluster around the name of -George, and he certainly did his part well in the one opportunity that -life seems to have offered him.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p>During the last twenty-five years there has been a general tendency to -draw sharp hard-and-fast dividing lines between the "corrigible" and the -"incorrigible" criminal. It has been assumed that a man only once -convicted of a crime may yet be amenable to reform, but that a second or -third conviction—convictions, not necessarily crimes—is proof that a -man is "incorrigible," that the criminal dye is set and the man should -therefore be permanently removed from society. This really does appear a -most sensible arrangement as we look down upon the upper side of the -proposition; to those who look up to it from below the appearance is -altogether different.</p> - -<p>A distinguished professor in a law school has said: "If any person shall -be a third time convicted of <i>any crime, no matter of what nature</i>, he -should be imprisoned at hard labor for life." At a National Prison -Congress in 1886 another eminent professor thus indorsed this sentiment: -"I believe there is but one cure for this great and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> growing evil, and -this is the imprisonment for life of the criminal once pronounced -'incorrigible.'" Later the governor of my own State told me that he -would consider no petition for shortening the sentence of an "habitual -criminal." Any leniency of attitude was stigmatized as "rose-water -sentiment." And the heart of the community hardened itself against any -plea for the twice-convicted man. What fate he was consigned to was not -their affair so long as he was safely locked up.</p> - -<p>In our eagerness for self-protection at any cost we lose sight of the -fact that the criminal problem is one of conditions quite as much as of -"cases." In our large cities, the great reservoirs of crime, we are but -reaping the harvest of centuries of evil in older civilizations, and in -our own civilization as well.</p> - -<p>So far we have been dealing with effects more than with causes. Indeed, -our dealings with lawbreakers, from the hour of arrest to the hour of -discharge from prison have served to increase rather than to diminish -the causes of crime. True enough it is that thousands of our fellow men -have found life one great quicksand of criminal and prison experience in -which cause and effect became in time inextricably tangled.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>And it sometimes happens that the twice-convicted man is in no way -responsible for his first conviction, as happened to James Hopkins, a -good boy reared in a New England family to a belief in God and respect -for our courts. He was earning his living honestly when he was arrested -on suspicion in Chicago and convicted of a burglary of which he knew -nothing. He knew nothing either of the wiles of the courts and depended -on his innocence as his defence. But the burglary was a daring one; some -one must be punished, no other culprit was captured, so Hopkins was sent -to one of our schools of crime supported by public taxation under the -name of penitentiaries. Pure homesickness simply overpowered the boy at -first. "Night after night I cried myself to sleep," he told me. His cell -happened to be on the top row where there was a window across the -corridor, and summer evenings he could look across out into a field so -like the field at home where he had played as a child. But the darkness -of the winter evening shut out every glimpse of anything associated with -home. He had not written his mother; he could not disgrace her with a -letter from a convict son. She had warned him of the dangers of the -city, but she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> had never dreamed of what those dangers really were. She -firmly believed that the courts were for the protection of the innocent, -and would she believe that a court of justice had sent an innocent man -to prison? He lost all faith in God and his heart hardened. Branded as a -criminal, a criminal he resolved to be; and when I met him twenty years -later he had a genuine criminal record as a scientific safe-blower.</p> - -<p>In spite of his criminal career some of the roots of the good New -England stock from which he was descended cropped out. With me he was -the gentleman pure and simple, discussing courts and prisons in a manner -as impersonal as my own; and he was a man of intelligence and an -interesting talker. I had come in touch with Hopkins because I was at -the time planning the future of his young cell-mate and I wanted the -advice of the older man, as well as his assistance in preparing the -younger to meet the responsibilities and temptations of freedom; and a -better assistant I could not have had. Concerning his own future Hopkins -maintained discreet reserve and unbroken silence as to his inner life. -He had deliberately stifled a Puritan conscience; but I doubt if it was -completely silenced, for while the lines in his face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> indicated nothing -criminal nor dissipated it was the face of a man in whom hope and -ambition were forever dead, a face of unutterable sadness.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>I am free to admit that when I glance over the newspaper reports of -brutal outrages and horrible crimes my sympathy swings over wholly to -the injured party; I, too, feel as if no measure could be too severe for -the perpetrator of the crime. That there are human beings whose -confinement is demanded by public safety I do not question, but modern -scientific study is leading us to the conclusion that back of abnormal -crimes are abnormal physiological conditions or abnormal race -tendencies. And the "habitual criminal" is <i>not</i> so designated because -of the nature of his crimes but because of the number of his infractions -of the law.</p> - -<p>I might have concurred with the opinions of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> learned professors were -it not that just when legislation in my own State was giving no quarter -to second and third offenders I was being led into the midst of this -submerged tenth of our prison population, and my loyalty to their cause -has been unswerving ever since.</p> - -<p>"Have any of your 'habituals' permanently reformed?" I am asked.</p> - -<p>They certainly have, more of them than even my optimism expected and -under circumstances when I have been amazed that their moral -determination did not break. In my preconceived opinion, the most -hopeless case I ever assisted surprised me by settling down, under -favorable environment, into an honest, self-supporting citizen; and we -may rest assured that he is guarding his boys from all knowledge of -criminal life.</p> - -<p>After I came to understand how all the odds were against the penniless -one, scarred and crippled by repeated crimes and punishments, it was not -his past nor his future that interested me so deeply as <i>what was left -of the man</i>. I suppose I was always in search of that something which we -call the soul. And I sometimes found it where I least looked for -it—among the very dregs of convict life.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>John Bryan stands out in clear relief in this connection. How well I -remember my first meeting with this man, who was then more than forty -years old, in broken health, serving a twenty-year sentence which he -could not possibly survive. He had no family, received no letters, was -utterly an outcast. Crime had been his "profession."<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> His face was not -brutal, but it was hard, guarded in expression and seamed with lines. -The facts of his existence he accepted apparently without remorse, -certainly without hope. This was life as he had made it, yes—but also -as he had found it. His friends had been men of his own kind, and, -judged by a standard of his own, he had respected them, trusted them, -and been loyal to them. I knew this well for I sought his acquaintance -hoping to obtain information supposed to be the missing link in a chain -of evidence upon which the fate of another man depended. I assured Bryan -that I would absolutely guard the safety of the man whose address I -wanted, but Bryan was uncompromising in his refusal to give it to me, -saying only: "Jenkins is a friend of mine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> You can't induce me to give -him away. You may be sincere enough in your promises, but it's too -risky. I don't know you; but if I did you couldn't get this information -out of me." Knowing that "honor among thieves" is no fiction I respected -his attitude.</p> - -<p>However, something in the man interested me, and moved to break in upon -the loneliness and desolation of his life I offered to send him -magazines and to answer any letters he might write me. Doubtless he -suspected some ulterior motive on my part, for in the few letters that -we exchanged I made little headway in acquaintance nor was a second -interview more satisfactory. Bryan was courteous—my prisoners were -always courteous to me—but it was evident that I stood for nothing in -his world. One day he wrote me that he did not care to continue our -correspondence, and did not desire another interview. Regretting only -that I had failed to touch a responsive chord in his nature I did not -pursue the acquaintance further.</p> - -<p>Some time afterward, when in the prison hospital, I noticed the name -"John Bryan" over the door of one of the cells. Before I had time to -think John Bryan stood in the door with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>outstretched hand and a smile -of warmest welcome, saying:</p> - -<p>"I am so glad to see you. Do come in and have a visit with me."</p> - -<p>"But I thought you wanted never to see me again," I answered.</p> - -<p>"It wasn't <i>you</i> I wanted to shut out. It was the thought of the whole -dreadful outside world that lets us suffer so in here, and you were a -part of that world."</p> - -<p>In a flash I understood the world of meaning in his words and during the -next hour, in this our last meeting, the seed of our friendship grew and -blossomed like the plants of the Orient under the hand of the magician. -It evidently had not dawned on him before that I, too, knew his world, -that I could understand his feeling about it.</p> - -<p>For two years he had been an invalid and his world had now narrowed to -the "idle room," the hospital yard, and the hospital; his associates -incapacitated, sick or dying convicts; his only occupation waiting for -death. But he was given ample opportunity to study the character and the -fate of these sick and dying comrades. He made no allusion to his own -fate but told me how day after day his heart had been wrung with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> pity, -with "the agony of compassion" for these others.</p> - -<p>He knew of instances where innocent men were imprisoned on outrageously -severe and unjust sentences, of men whose health was ruined and whose -lives were blighted at the hands of the State for some trifling -violation of the law; of cases where the sin of the culprit was white in -comparison with the sin of the State in evils inflicted in the name of -justice. He counted it a lighter sin to rob a man of a watch than to rob -a man of his manhood or his health. It was, indeed, in bitterness of -spirit that he regarded the courts and the churches which stood for -justice and religion, yet allowed these wrongs to multiply. His point of -View of the prison problem was quite the opposite of theirs.</p> - -<p>Now, as I could have matched his score with cases of injustice, as my -heart, too, had been wrung with pity, when he realized that I believed -him and felt with him the last barrier between us was melted.</p> - -<p>There were at that time few persons in my world who felt as I did on the -prison question, but in this heart suddenly opened to me I found many of -my own thoughts and feelings reflected,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> and we stood as friends on the -common ground of sympathy for suffering humanity.</p> - -<p>Another surprise was awaiting me when I changed the subject by asking -Bryan what he was reading. It seemed that his starving heart had been -seeking sympathy and companionship in books. He had turned first to the -Greek philosophers, and in their philosophy and stoicism he seemed to -have found some strength for endurance; but it was in the great -religious teachers, those lovers of the poor, those pitiers of the -oppressed, Jesus Christ and Buddha, that he had found what he was really -seeking. He had been reading Renan's "Jesus," also Farrar's "Life of -Christ," as well as the New Testament.</p> - -<p>"Buddha was great and good and so were some of the other religious -teachers," he said, "but Jesus Christ is better than all the rest." And -with that Friend of the friendless I left him.</p> - -<p>Strange indeed it seemed how the criminal life appeared to have fallen -from him as a garment, and yet in our prison administration this man -stood as the very type of the "incorrigible." What his course of action -would have been had Bryan been given his freedom I should not care to -predict. Physically he was absolutely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>incapable of supporting himself -honestly, and he might have agreed with another who said to me: "Any man -of self-respect would rather steal than beg." There are those to whom no -bread is quite so bitter as the bread of charity. But I am certain that -the John Bryan who revealed himself to me in that last interview was the -<i>real</i> man, the man who was going forward, apparently without fear, to -meet the judgment of his Maker.</p> - -<p>A noted preacher once said to me: "Oh, give up this prison business. -It's too hard on you, too wearing and depressing." And I replied: "Not -all the preachers in the land could teach me spiritually what these -convicts are teaching me, or give me such faith in the ultimate destiny -of the human soul." Perhaps my experience has been exceptional, but it -was the older criminals, the men who had sowed their wild oats and come -to their senses, who most deepened my faith in human nature.</p> - -<p>I am glad to quote in this connection the words of an experienced warden -of a large Eastern penitentiary, who says: "I have yet to find a case -where I believe that crime has been taught by older criminals to younger -ones. I believe, on the contrary, that the usual advice of the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -criminal to the boys is: 'See what crime has brought me to, and when you -get out of here behave yourselves.'"</p> - -<p>My whole study of "old-timers" verifies this statement; moreover, I am -inclined to believe that in very many instances the criminal impulses -exhaust themselves shortly after the period of adolescence, when the -fever of antagonism to all restraint has run its course, so to say; and -I believe the time is coming when this branch of the subject will be -scientifically studied.</p> - -<p>It is greatly to be regretted that the juvenile courts, now so efficient -in rescuing the young offender from the criminal ranks, had not begun -their work before the second or third offence had blotted hope from the -future of so many of the younger men in our penitentiaries; for the -indeterminate sentence under the board of pardons has done little to -mitigate the fate of those whose criminal records show previous -convictions.</p> - -<p>Hitherto we have been dealing with crimes. But the time is at hand when -we shall deal with men.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> We instinctively visualize "confirmed criminals" with faces -corresponding to their crimes. But our prejudices are often misleading. -I once handed to a group of prison commissioners the newspaper picture -of a crew of a leading Eastern university. The crew were in striped -suits and were assumed to be convicts, with the aid of a little -suggestion. It was interesting to see the confidence of the -commissioners as they pronounced one face after another "the regular -criminal type." The fact is that with one or two exceptions my -"habituals," properly clothed, might have passed as church members, some -of them even as theological students.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> I seldom heard the terms "habitual" or "incorrigible" used -by men of his class, but the "professionals" seemed to have a certain -standing with each other.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> For full discussion of this matter the reader is referred -to "Individualism in Punishment," by M. Salielles, one of the most -valuable contributions yet made to the study of penology. Also Sir James -Barr's "The Aim and Scope of Eugenics" demands the recognition of the -<i>individual</i> in the criminal.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p>Alfred Allen was one of my early acquaintances among prisoners, having -had the good fortune to receive his sentence on a second conviction -before the habitual-criminal act was in force in Illinois. Our -introduction happened in this way: in one of my interviews with a young -confidence man, who did not hesitate to state that he had always been -studying how to sell the imitation for the genuine, to get something for -nothing, my attention was diverted by his suddenly branching off into a -description of his cell-mate.</p> - -<p>"Alfred is the queerest sort of a chap," the man began. "He's a -professional burglar, and the most innocent fellow I ever knew; always -reading history and political economy, and just wild to get into the -library to work. He hasn't a relative that he knows and never has a -visit nor a letter, and I wish you'd ask to see him."</p> - -<p>On this introduction I promised to interview Alfred Allen the next -evening. The warden <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>allowed me the privilege of evening interviews with -prisoners, the time limited only by the hour when every man must be in -his cell for the night.</p> - -<p>It was an unprecedented event for Alfred to be called out to see a -visitor, and he greeted me with a broad smile and two outstretched -hands. With that first hand-clasp we were friends, for the door of that -starved and eager heart was thrown generously open and all his soul was -in his big dark eyes. I understood instantly what the other man meant by -calling Alfred "innocent," for a more direct and guileless nature I have -never known. The boy, for he was not yet twenty-one, had so many things -to say. The flood-gates were open at last. I remember his suddenly -pausing, then exclaiming: "Why, how strange this is! Ten minutes ago I'd -never seen you, and now I feel as if I'd known you all my life."</p> - -<p>In reply to my inquiries he rapidly sketched the main events in his -history. Of Welsh parentage he had learned to read before he was five -years old, when his mother died. While yet a child he lost his father, -and when ten years old, a homeless waif, morally and physically -starving, in the struggle for existence he was a bootblack, newsboy, and -sometimes thief. "To get something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> to eat, clothes to cover me, and a -place to sleep was my only thought; these things I must have. Often in -the day I looked for a place where the sun had warmed the sidewalk -beside barrels, and I'd go there to sleep at night."</p> - -<p>At last, when about thirteen years old, he found a friendly, helping -hand. A man whose boots he had blacked several times, who doubtless -sized up Alfred as to ability, took the boy to his house, fed him well, -and clothed him comfortably. Very anxiously did the older man, who must -have <i>felt</i> Alfred's intrinsic honesty, unfold to the boy the secret of -his calling and the source from which he garnered the money spent for -the comfort of the street waif. And Alfred had small scruple in -consenting to aid his protector by wriggling his supple young body -through small apertures into buildings which he had no right to enter. -And so he was drifted into the lucrative business of store burglary.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> -After the strain and stress and desperate scramble for existence of the -lonely child, one can imagine how easily he embraced this new vocation. -It was a kind of life, too, which had its fascination for his -adventurous spirit; it even enabled him to indulge in what was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> to him -the greatest of luxuries, the luxury of giving. His own hardships had -made him keenly sensitive to the suffering of others. But Alfred was not -of the stuff from which successful criminals are made, for at eighteen -he was in prison for the second time and was classed with the -incorrigible.</p> - -<p>It was during this last imprisonment that thought and study had -developed his dominant trait of generosity into a broader altruism. He -now realized that he could serve humanity better than by stealing money -to give away. He was studying the conditions of the working and of the -criminal classes, the needs of the side of society from which he was an -outgrowth. The starting-point of this change was an Englishman's report -of a visit to this country as "A place where each lived for the good of -all." (?) "When I read that," said Alfred, "I stopped and asked myself: -'Have I been living for the good of all?' And I saw how I had been an -enemy to society, and that I must start again in the opposite -direction." It was not the cruelty of social conditions which he accused -for his past. His good Welsh conscience came bravely forward and -convicted him of his own share in social wrong-doing. "Now that I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> -going to be a good man," Alfred continued, "I suppose I must be a -Christian"—reversing the usual order of "conversion"—"and so I've been -studying religion also lately. I've been hard at work trying to -understand the Trinity." Alfred did not undertake things by halves.</p> - -<p>I advised him not to bother with theology, but to content himself with -the clear and simple working principles of Christianity, which would -really count for something in his future battle with life.</p> - -<p>When we touched upon books I was surprised to find this boy perfectly at -home with his Thackeray and his Scott, and far more deeply read in -history and political economy than I. He said that he had always read, -as a newsboy at news-stands, at mission reading-rooms, wherever he could -lay his hands on a book. He talked fluently, picturesquely, with -absolute freedom from self-consciousness.</p> - -<p>In Alfred's physiognomy—his photograph lies before me—there was no -trace of the so-called criminal type; his face was distinctively that of -the student, the thinker, the enthusiast. His fate seemed such a cruel -waste of a piece of humanity of fine fibre, with a brain that would have -made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> a brilliant record in any university. But the moral and physical -deprivations from which his boyhood suffered had wrought havoc with his -health and undermined his constitution.</p> - -<p>This November interview resulted immediately in a correspondence, -limited on Alfred's side to the rule allowing convicts to write but one -letter a month. On my part, the letters were more frequent, and -magazines for the Sundays were regularly sent. Alfred was a novice in -correspondence, probably not having written fifty letters in his life. I -was surprised at the high average of his spelling and the uniform -excellency of his handwriting. In order to make the most of the allotted -one leaf of foolscap paper he left no margins and soon evolved a small, -upright writing, clear and almost as fine as magazine type.</p> - -<p>In using Alfred's letters I wish I might impart to others the power to -read between the lines that was given me through my acquaintance with -the writer. I could hear the ring in his voice and often divine the -thought greater than the word. But in letting him speak for himself he -will at least have the advantage of coming directly in contact with the -mind of the reader. The first extracts are taken from one of his -earliest letters.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Friend</span>:</p> - -<p>"On coming back to my cell the day after Christmas, I saw a letter, -a magazine and a book lying on my bed. I knew from the handwriting -that they came from you. After looking at my present and reading -the sunshiny letter I tried to eat my dinner. But there was a lump -in my throat that would not let me eat, and before I knew what was -up I was crying over my dear friend's remembrance. I was once at a -Mission Christmas tree where I received a box of candy. But yours -was my first individual gift. It is said that the three most -beautiful words in the English language are Mother, Home and -Heaven. I have never known any of them. My first remembrance is of -being in a room with the dead body of my mother. All my life it -seems as if everybody I knew belonged to some one; they had mother, -brother, sister, some one. But I belonged to no one, and I never -could repress the longing in my heart to belong to somebody. I have -my God, but a human heart cannot help longing for human as well as -divine sympathy."</p></blockquote> - -<p>In a similar vein in another letter he writes:</p> - -<p>"I've sometimes wondered if I should have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> been a different boy if -circumstances in my childhood had been better. I have seen little but -misery in life. In prison and out it has been my fate to belong to the -class that gets pushed to the wall. I have walked the streets of Chicago -to keep myself from freezing to death. I have slept on the ground with -the rain pouring down upon me. For two years I did not know what bed -was, while more than once I have only broken the fast of two or three -days through the kindness of a gambler or a thief. This was before I had -taken to criminal life as a business.... Still when I think it over I -don't see how I could have kept in that criminal life. I remember the -man who taught me burglary as a fine art told me I would never make a -good burglar because I was too quick to feel for others."</p> - -<p>Only once again did Alfred refer to the bitter experiences of his -childhood and that was in a conversation. He had many other things to -write about, and his mind was filled with the present and the future. -Four years of evenings in a cell in a prison with a good library give -one a chance to read and think, although an ill-lighted, non-ventilated -four-by-seven cell, after a day of exhausting work, is not conducive to -intellectual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> activity. The godsend this prison library was to Alfred is -evident through his letters.</p> - -<p>"All my life," he writes, "I have had a burning desire to study and -educate myself, and I do not believe that a day has passed when I have -not gone a little higher. Some time ago I determined to read a chapter -in the new testament every night, though I expected it would be tedious. -But behold! The first thing I knew I was so interested that I was -reading four or five chapters every night. The Chaplain gave me a -splendid speller and I'm going to study hard until I know every word in -it."</p> - -<p>Proof that Alfred was a genuine book-lover runs through many of his -letters. He tells me:</p> - -<p>"Much as I hate this place if I could be transferred to the library from -the shop I should be the happiest boy in the State. I'd be willing to -stay an additional year in the prison. Twice when they needed an extra -man in the library they sent me. It was a joy just to handle the books -and to read their titles and I felt as if they knew that I loved -them.... Thank you for the <i>Scribner Magazine</i>. But the leaves were -uncut. I want all the help and friendship you can spare me. I am glad to -have any magazine you are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> through with. But you must not buy new ones -just for me. The <i>Eclectic</i> and <i>Harpers</i> were most welcome. <i>Man versus -the State</i> was a splendid article, also, <i>Education as a Factor in -Prison Reform</i>, and Prof. Ely on the Railroad Problem. The magazines you -send will do yoeman service they are passed on to every man my cell-mate -or I know."<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<p>Alfred was devoted to the writings of John Draper and devoured -everything within his reach on sociology, especially everything relating -to the labor problems. He had theories of his own on many lines of -public welfare, but no taint of anarchy or class hatred distorts his -ideals of justice for all. He always advocates constructive rather than -destructive measures.</p> - -<p>Occasionally Alfred refers to the poets. He enjoys Oliver Wendell -Holmes, and Lowell is an especial favorite; while delighting in the -"Biglow Papers," he quotes with appreciation from Lowell's more serious -poetry. The companionship of Thackeray, Dickens, and Scott brightened -and mellowed many dark, hard hours for Alfred. "Sir Walter Scott's -novels broke my taste for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> trashy stuff," he writes. Naturally, Victor -Hugo's "Les Miserables" absorbed and thrilled him. "Shall I ever forget -Jean Valjean, the galley slave; or Cosette? While reading the story I -thought such a character as the Bishop impossible. I was mistaken." Of -Charles Reade he says: "One cannot help loving Reade. He has such a -dashing, rollicking style. And then he hardly ever wrote except to -denounce some wrong or sham." Even in fiction his preference follows the -trend of his burning love and pity for the desolate and oppressed. How -he would have worshipped Tolstoi!</p> - -<p>Complaint or criticism of the hardships of convict life forms small part -of the thirty letters written me by Alfred while in prison. He takes -this stand: "I ought not to complain because I brought this punishment -upon myself." "I am almost glad if anyone does wrong to me because I -feel that it helps balance my account for the wrongs I have done -others." Shall we never escape from that terrible idea of the moral -necessity of expiation, even at the cost of another?</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, Alfred feels the hardships he endures and knows how to -present them. And he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> is not "speaking for the gallery" but to his one -friend when he writes:</p> - -<p>"Try to imagine yourself working all day on a stool, not allowed to -stand even when your work can be better done that way. If you hear a -noise you must not look up. You are within two feet of a companion but -you must not speak. You sit on your stool all day long and work. Nothing -but work. Outside my mind was a pleasure to me, in here it is a torture. -It seems as if the minutes were hours, the hours days, the days -centuries. A man in prison is supposed to be a machine. So long as he -does ten hours' work a day—don't smile, don't talk, don't look up from -his work, does work enough to suit the contractors and does it well and -obeys the long number of unwritten rules he is all right. The trouble -with the convicts is that they can't get it out of their heads that they -are human beings and not machines. The present system may be good -statesmanship. It is bad Christianity. But I doubt if it is good -statesmanship to maintain a system that makes so many men kill -themselves, go crazy, or if they do get out of the Shadow alive go out -hating the State and their fellowmen. As a convict said to me, 'It's -funny that in this age<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> of enlightenment they have not found out that to -brutalize a man will never reform him. I have not been led to reform by -prison life. It has made me more bitter at times than I thought I ever -could be. One cannot live in a prison without seeing and hearing things -to make one's blood boil....'</p> - -<p>"Times come to me here when it seems as if I could not stand the strain -any longer. Then again, even in this horrid old shop I have some very -happy times, thinking of your friendship and building castles in the -air. My favorite air castle is built on the hope that when my time is -out I can get into a printing office and in time work up to be an -editor. And perhaps do a little something to help the poor and to aid -the cause of progress. Shall I succeed in my dream? Do we ever realize -our ideals?"</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought</div> -<div class="i1">Till the cold stone warmed to his ardent heart;</div> -<div>Or if ever a painter with light and shade</div> -<div class="i1">The dream of his inmost heart portrayed."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>"I did have doubts as to whether Spring was really here till the violets -came in your letter. Now I am no longer an unbeliever. I am afraid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> that -I love all beautiful things too much for my own comfort. If a convict -cares for beauty that sensitiveness can only give him pain while in -prison. I love music and at times I have feelings that it seems to me -can only be expressed through music; and I hope I shall be able to take -piano lessons some time."</p> - -<p>I discovered later that there was a strain of the old Welsh minstrel in -Alfred's blood, but small prospect there was at that time of his ever -realizing the hope of studying music. For all this while the boy was -steadily breaking down under the strain of convict life, the "nothing -but work" on a stool for ten hours a day on the shoe contract. Physical -exhaustion was evident in the handwriting of the shorter letters in -which he tells me of nature's revolt against the prison diet, and how -night after night he "dreams of things to eat." "I sometimes believe I -am really starving to death," he writes. But the trouble was not so much -the prison food as that the boy was ill.</p> - -<p>I went to see him at about this time and was startled by the gaunt and -famished face, the appeal of the hungry eyes that looked into mine. I -felt as if starvation had thrust its fangs into my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> own body, and all -through the night, whether dreaming or awake, that horror held me. -Fortunately: for well I knew there would be no rest for me until forces -were set in motion to bring about a change for the better in Alfred.</p> - -<p>In the general routine of prison life, if the prison doctor pronounces a -convict able to work the convict must either work or be punished until -he consents to work; or——? In the case of Alfred or in any case I -should not presume to assign individual responsibility, but as soon as -the case was laid before the warden Alfred was given change of work and -put on special diet with most favorable results as to health.</p> - -<p>Alfred's imprisonment lasted about two years after I first met him, this -break in health occurring in the second year. As the day of release drew -near his hopes flamed high, breaking into words in his last letter.</p> - -<p>"Next month I shall be a free man! Think of it! A free man. Free to do -everything that is right, free to walk where I please on God's green -earth, free to breathe the pure air, and <i>to help the cause of social -progress</i> instead of retarding it as I have done."</p> - -<p>Now, I had in Chicago a Heaven-sent friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> whose heart and hand were -always open to the needs of my prisoners, indeed to the needs of all -humanity. This friend was a Welsh preacher. He called upon me in Chicago -one November afternoon when I had just returned from a visit to the -penitentiary. I was tingling with interest in the Welsh prisoner whom I -had met for the first time the evening before. Sure of my listener's -sympathy I gave myself free rein in relating the impression that Alfred -made upon me. I felt as if I had clasped the hand of Providence -itself—and had I not?—when my friend said:</p> - -<p>"Your Welsh boy is a fellow countryman of mine. If you will send him to -me when released I think I can open a way for him." This prospect of a -good start in freedom was invaluable to Alfred, giving courage for -endurance and a moral incentive for the rest of his prison term.</p> - -<p>Every man when released from prison in my State is given a return ticket -to the place from which he was sent, ten dollars in cash, and a suit of -clothing. These suits are convict-made, and while not distinctive to the -ordinary observer, they are instantly recognizable to the police all -over the State. Half-worn suits I had no difficulty in obtaining through -my own circle of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> friends. So when Alfred's day of freedom came a good -outfit of business clothing was awaiting him and before evening no -outward trace of his convict experience remained.</p> - -<p>According to previous arrangement Alfred went directly to the Welsh -preacher. This minister was more than true to his promise, for he -entertained the boy at his own home over night, then sent him up to a -small school settlement in an adjoining State where employment and a -home for the winter had been secured, the employer knowing Alfred's -story.</p> - -<p>And there for the first time in his life Alfred had some of the right -good times that seem the natural birthright of youth in America. Here is -his own account:</p> - -<p>"I had a splendid time Thanksgiving. All the valley assembled in the -little chapel, every one bringing baskets of things to eat. There were -chickens, geese and the never-forgotten turkey, pies of every variety of -good things known to mortal man. In the evening we boys and girls filled -two sleighs full of ourselves and went for a sleigh-ride. You could have -heard our laughing and singing two miles off. We came back to the school -house where apples, nuts, and candy were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> passed round, and bed time -that night was twelve o'clock."</p> - -<p>It was not the good times that counted so much to Alfred as the chance -for education. He began school at once, and outside of school hours he -worked hard, not only for his board but picking up odd jobs in the -neighborhood by which he could earn money for personal expenses. He -carried in his vest pocket lists of words to be memorized while working, -and still wished "that one did not have to sleep but could study all -night." The moral influences were all healthful as could be. The people -among whom he lived were industrious, intelligent, and high-minded. -Among his studies that winter was a course in Shakespeare, and the whole -mental atmosphere was most stimulating. Within a few months a chance to -work in a printing-office was eagerly accepted and it really seemed as -if some of his dreams might come true. But while the waves on the -surface of life were sparkling, beneath was the perilous undertow of -disease. Symptoms of tuberculosis appeared, work in the printing-office -had to be abandoned after a few weeks, and Alfred's doctor advised him -to work his way toward the South before cold weather set in; as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> another -severe Northern winter would probably be fatal. After consultation with -his friends this course was decided upon; and, confident in the faith -that he could surely find transient work with farmers along the line, he -fared forth toward the South, little dreaming of the test of moral fibre -and good resolutions that lay before him. The child had sought refuge -from destitution in criminal life from which his soul had early -revolted; but the man was now to encounter the desperate struggle of -manhood for a foothold in honest living.</p> - -<p>For the first month all went fairly well, then began hard luck both in -small towns and the farming country.</p> - -<p>"The farmers have suffered two bad seasons; there seems to be no money, -and there's hardly a farm unmortgaged," he wrote me, and then: "When I -had used the last penny of my earnings I went without food for one day, -when hunger getting the best of me, I sold some of my things. After that -I got a weeks work and was two dollars ahead. I aimed for St. Louis, one -hundred miles away and walked the whole distance. What a walk it was! I -never passed a town without trying for work. The poverty through there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> -is amazing. I stuck to my determination not to beg. I must confess that -I never had greater temptation to go back to my old life; and I think if -I can conquer temptation as I did that day when I was <i>so</i> hungry I need -have no fears for the future.</p> - -<p>"I reached St. Louis with five cents in my pocket. For three days I -walked the streets of the City trying to get work but without success. I -scanned the papers for advertisements of men wanted, but for every place -there were countless applicants. My heart hurt me as I walked the -streets to see men and women suffering for the bare necessaries of -existence. The third night I slept on the stone steps of a Baptist -Church. Then I answered an advertisement for an extra gang of men to be -shipped out to work on railroad construction somewhere in Arkansas. A -curious crew it was all through; half the men were tramps who had no -intention of working, several were well-dressed men who could find -nothing else to do, some were railroad men who had worked at nothing -else. When one of the brakesmen found where we were bound for he said, -'That place! You'll all be in the hospital or dead, in two months.'</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>"The second evening we stopped at the little town where we now are. The -work is terrible, owing to the swamps and heat. Out of the twenty five -who started only eight are left. Yesterday I fainted overcome by the -heat, but if it kills me I shall stick to the work until I find -something better."</p> - -<p>The work did not kill Alfred, but malarial fever soon turned the -workmen's quarters into a sort of camp hospital where Alfred, while -unable to work, developed a talent for nursing those who were helpless. -His letters at this time were filled with accounts of sickness and the -needs of the sick. He had never asked me for money; it seemed to be -almost a point of honor among my prison friends <i>not</i> to ask me for -money; but "if you could send me something to get lemons for some of the -boys who haven't a cent" was his one appeal; to which I gladly -responded.</p> - -<p>Better days were on the way, however. Cooler weather was at hand, and -during the winter Alfred found in a lumber mill regular employment, -interrupted occasionally by brief illnesses. On the whole, the next year -was one of prosperity. Life had resolved itself into the simple problem -of personal independence, and with a right good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> will Alfred took hold -of the proposition, determined to make himself valuable to his employer. -That he accomplished this I have evidence in a note of unqualified -recommendation from his employer.</p> - -<p>When the family with whom he had boarded for a year were about to leave -town he was offered the chance to buy their small cottage for two -hundred and fifty dollars, on monthly payments; and by securing a man -and his wife as tenants he was able to do this.</p> - -<p>"At last, I am in my own house," he writes me. "I went out on the piazza -to-day and looked over the valley with a feeling of pride that I was -under my own roof. I have reserved the pleasant front room for myself, -and I have spent three evenings putting up shelves and ornamenting them -and trying to make the room look pretty. I shall get some nice mouldings -down at the mill to make frames for the pictures you sent me. And I'm -going to have a little garden and raise some vegetables."</p> - -<p>But the agreeable sense of ownership of a home and pleasure in the -formation of social relations were invaded by haunting memories of the -past. The brighter possibilities opened to his fancy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> seemed but to -emphasize his sense of isolation. Outward conditions could not alter his -own personality or obliterate his experiences. It was a dark hour in -which he wrote:</p> - -<p>"How wretched it all is, this tangled web of my life with its suffering, -its sin and its retribution. It is with me still. I can see myself now -standing inside the door of my prison cell, looking up to the little -loop-hole of a window across the corridor, trying to catch a glimpse of -the blue heavens or of a star, longing for pure air and sunshine, -longing for freedom....</p> - -<p>"Strong as is my love for woman, much as I long for someone to share my -life, I don't see how I can ever ask any woman to take into her life -half of that blackened and crime-stained page of my past. I must try to -find happiness in helping others."</p> - -<p>But nature was too much for Alfred. Not many months later he tells me -that he is going to be married and that his sweetheart, a young widow, -"is kind and motherly. When I told her all of my past she said, 'And so -you were afraid I would think the less of you? Not a bit. It only hurts -me to think of all you have been through.'"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p><p>The happy letters following this marriage give evidence that the tie of -affection was strong between the two. Here we have a glimpse of the -early married days:</p> - -<p>"I have been making new steps to our house, putting fancy wood work on -the porch and preparing to paint both the inside and the outside of the -house next month."—Alfred was night-watch at the lumber mill.—"It is -four o'clock in the afternoon; I am writing by an open window where I -can look out and see my wife's flowers in the garden. I can look across -the valley to the ridge of trees beyond, while the breeze comes in -bringing the scent of the pines. Out in the kitchen I can hear my wife -singing as she makes some cake for our supper. But my old ambition to -own a printing office has not left me. I am still looking forward to -that."</p> - -<p>Just here I should like to say: "And they lived happy ever after." But -life is not a fairy-story; to many it seems but a crucible through which -the soul is passed. But the vicissitudes that followed in Alfred's few -remaining years were those of the common lot. In almost every letter -there were indications of failing health, causing frequent loss of time -in work. Three years after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> his marriage, in the joy of fatherhood, -Alfred writes me of the baby, of his cunning ways and general dearness; -and of what he did when arrayed in some little things I had sent him. -Then, when the child was a year old came an anxious letter telling of -Baby Alfred's illness, and then:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Friend</span>:</p> - -<p>"My baby is dead. He died last night.</p> - -<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Alfred.</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This tearing of the heart-strings was a new kind of suffering, more -acute than any caused by personal hardship. Wrapped in grief he writes -me: "To think of those words, 'My baby's grave.' I knew I loved him -dearly, but how dearly I did not know until he was taken away. It isn't -the same world since he died. Poor little dear! The day after he was -taken sick he looked up in my face and crowed to me and clapped his -little hands and called me 'da-da,' for the last time. Oh! my God! how -it hurts me. It seems at times as though my heart must break....</p> - -<p>"Since the baby died night watching at the lumber mill has become -torture to me. In the long hours of the night my baby's face comes -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>before me with such vividness that it is anguish to think of it."</p> - -<p>The end of it all was not far off; from the long illness that followed -Alfred did not recover, though working when able to stand; the wife, -too, had an illness, and the need of earnings was imperative. Alfred -writes despairingly of his unfulfilled dreams, and adds: "I seem to have -succeeded only in reforming myself," but even in the last pencilled -scrawl he still clings to the hope of being able to work again.</p> - -<p>I can think of Alfred only as a good soldier through the battle of life. -As a child, fighting desperately for mere existence, defeated morally -for a brief period by defective social conditions; later depleted -physically through the inhumanity of the prison-contract system; then -drawing one long breath of happiness and freedom through the kindness of -the Welsh preacher; but only to plunge into battle with adverse economic -conditions; and all this time striving constantly against the most -relentless of foes, the disease which finally overcame him. His was, -indeed, a valiant spirit.</p> - -<p>Of those who may study this picture of Alfred's life will it be the -"habitual criminals" who will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> claim the likeness as their own, or will -the home-making, tender-hearted men and women feel the thrill of -kinship?</p> - -<p>Truly Alfred was one with all loving hearts who are striving upward, -whether in prison or in palace.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Alfred never entered private houses.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Mrs. Burnett's charming little story, "Editha's Burglar," -went the rounds among the burglars in the prison till it was worn to -shreds.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p>An habitual criminal of the pronounced type was my friend Dick Mallory. -I have no remembrance of our first meeting, but he must have been thirty -years old at the time, was in the penitentiary for the third time, and -serving a fourteen-year sentence. Early in our acquaintance I asked him -to write for me a detailed account of his childhood and boyhood, the -environment and influences which had made him what he was, and also his -impression of the various reformatories and minor penal institutions of -which he had been an inmate. This he was allowed to do by special -permission, and the warden of the penitentiary gave his indorsement as -to the general reliability of his statements. The following brief sketch -of his youth is summarized from his own accounts.</p> - -<p>One cannot hold Dick Mallory as a victim of social conditions, neither -was he of criminal parentage. One of his grandfathers was a farmer, the -other a mechanic. His father was a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>working-man, his mother a -big-hearted woman, thoroughly kindly and to the last devoted to her son. -There must have been some constitutional lack of moral fibre in Dick, -who was the same wayward, unmanageable boy known to heart-broken mothers -in all classes of life. Impulsive, generous, with an overflowing -sociability of disposition, he won his way with convicts and guards in -the different penal institutions included in his varied experience. I -hate to put it into words, but Dick was undeniably a thief; and his -career as a thief began very early. When seven years of age he was sent -to a parish school, and there, he tells me, "A tough set of boys they -were, including myself. There I received my first lessons in stealing. -We would go through all the alley ways on our way to and from school, -and break into sheds and steal anything we could sell for a few cents, -using the money to get into cheap theatres."</p> - -<p>This early lawlessness led to more serious misdemeanors until the boy at -thirteen was sent to the reform school. This reform-school -experience—in the late seventies—afforded the best possible culture -for all the evil in his nature. This reform school was openly designated -a "hotbed of crime" for the State. Inevitably<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> Dick left it a worse boy -than at his entrance. Another delinquency soon followed, for which he -was sent to jail for a month, the mother hoping that this would "teach -him a lesson." "It did. <i>But oh, what a lesson.</i> Oh! but it was a hard -place for a boy! There were from three to seven in each cell, some of -them boys younger than I, some hardened criminals. We were herded -together in idleness, learning only lessons in crime. In less than six -months I was there a second time. Then mother moved into another -neighborhood, but alas, for the change. That same locality has turned -out more thieves than any other portion of Chicago, that sin-begrimed -city. From the time I became acquainted in that neighborhood I was a -confirmed thief, and a constant object of suspicion to the police.</p> - -<p>"One evening I was arrested on general principles, taken into the police -station and paraded before the whole squad of the police, the captain -saying, 'This is the notorious Dick Mallory, take a good look at him, -and bring him in night or day, wherever you may find him.'" This -completed his enmity to law and order.</p> - -<p>Soon after followed an experience in the house of correction of which he -says: "This was my first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> time there and a miserable time it was. Sodom -and Gomorrah in their palmiest days could not hold a candle to it. You -know that by this time I was no spring chicken, but the place actually -made me sick; it was literally swarming with vermin, the men half -starved and half clad." This workhouse experience was repeated several -times and was regarded afterward as the lowest depth of moral -degradation of his whole career. "I did not try to obtain work in these -intervals of liberty, because I was arrested every time I was met by a -policeman who had seen me before."</p> - -<p>Thoroughly demoralized Dick Mallory sought the saloons, at first for the -sake of sociability, then for the stimulant which gave temporary zest to -life, until the habit of drinking was confirmed and led to more serious -crimes.</p> - -<p>Perhaps neither our modern juvenile courts nor our improved methods in -reform school and house of correction would have materially altered the -course of Dick Mallory's life, although a thorough course of manual -training might have turned his destructive tendencies into constructive -forces and the right teaching might have instilled into him some -principles of good citizenship. Be that as it may, the fact remained -that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> before this boy had reached his majority his imprisonment had -become a social necessity; he had become the very type against whom our -most severe legislation has been directed.</p> - -<p>But this was not the Dick Mallory whom I came to know so well ten years -later, and who was for two years or more my guide and director in some -of the best work I ever accomplished for prisoners. Strange to say, this -man, utterly irresponsible and lawless as he had heretofore been, was a -model prisoner. He fell into line at once, learned his trade on the shoe -contract rapidly, became an expert workman, earning something like sixty -dollars a year by extra work. He was cheerful, sensible, level-headed; -and settled down to convict life with the determination to make the best -of it, and the most of the opportunity to read and study evenings. The -normal man within him came into expression. His comparison between the -house of correction and the penitentiary was wholly in favor of the -latter. He recognized the necessity of a strict discipline for men like -himself; he appreciated the difficulties of the warden's position and -his criticisms of the institutions were confined mostly to the abuses -inherent in the contract system. Never coming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> into contact with the -sick or disabled, himself blessed with the irrepressible buoyancy of the -sons of Erin, physically capable of doing more than all the work -required of him, his point of view of convict life and prison -administration was at that time altogether different from that of John -Bryan. He plunged into correspondence with me with an ardor that never -flagged, covering every inch of the writing-paper allotted him, -treasuring every line of my letters, and re-reading them on the long -Sunday afternoons in his cell. For years he had made the most of the -prison libraries. His reading was mainly along scientific lines; Galton, -Draper, and Herbert Spencer he treasured especially. His favorite novel -was M. Linton's "Joshua Davidson," a striking modern paraphrase of the -life of Jesus. His good nature won him many small favors and privileges -from the prison guards, and the time that I knew him as a prisoner was -unquestionably the happiest period of his life.</p> - -<p>We always had some young prisoner on hand, whom we were trying to rescue -from criminal life. It was usually a cell-mate of Dick's with whom he -had become thoroughly acquainted. And on the outside was Dick's mother -always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> ready to help her boy set some other mother's boy on his feet. -Our first mutual experiment along this line was in the beginning -somewhat discouraging. The following extract from one of Dick's letters -speaks for itself, not only of our <i>protégé</i>, Harry, but of Dick's -attitude in this and similar cases.</p> - -<p>"My brother wrote me that Harry had burnt his foot and was unable to -work for a month, during which time a friend of mine paid his board. On -recovering he went back to work for a few days, drew his pay and left -the city, leaving my friend out of pocket. Now I would like to make this -loss good because I feel responsible for Harry. I have never lost -confidence in him; and what makes me feel worst of all is that I am -unable to let him know that I am not angry with him. I would give twenty -dollars this minute if I knew where a letter would reach him.</p> - -<p>"I have never directly tried to bring any man down to my own level, and -if I never succeed in elevating myself much above my present level I -would like to be the means of elevating others." However, Harry did not -prove altogether a lost venture and Dick was delighted to receive better -news of him later.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>We had better luck next time when Ned Triscom, a young cell-mate of -Dick's, was released. Dick had planned for this boy's future for weeks, -asking my assistance in securing a situation and arranging for an -evening school, the bills guaranteed by Dick. Our plans carried even -better than we hoped. Ned proved really the right sort, and when I -afterward met him in Chicago my impressions more than confirmed Dick's -favorable report. But Ned was Dick's <i>find</i>, and Dick must give his own -report.</p> - -<p>"I want to thank you for what you have done for my friend Ned. He has -written me every week since he left, and it does me good to know that he -is on the high road to success. As soon as you begin to receive news -from your friends who have met him you will hear things that will make -your heart glad. He is enthusiastic in his praise of Miss Jane Addams, -has spent some evenings at the Hull House, and goes often to see my -mother. He is doing remarkably well with his work and earned twenty-four -dollars last week. He has no relative nearer than an aunt, whom he will -visit in his vacation. I never asked him <i>anything about his past</i>, and -he never told me anything. I simply judged of him by what I saw of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> him. -I always thought him out of place here and now I wonder how he ever -happened to get here."</p> - -<p>I liked Dick for never having asked Ned anything about his past. Now -through Dick's interest in the boy Ned was placed at once in healthy -moral environment in Chicago, and he was really a very interesting and -promising young man with exceedingly good manners. He called on me one -evening in Chicago and seemed as good as anybody, with the right sort of -interests, and he kept in correspondence with me as long as I answered -his letters.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Mallory was as much interested in Dick's philanthropic experiments -as I was, and several men fresh from the penitentiary spent their first -days of freedom in the sunshine of her warm welcome and under the -shelter of her hospitable roof. Thus Dick Mallory, his mother, and I -formed a sort of first aid to the ex-convict society.</p> - -<p>Another of Mallory's protégés was Sam Ellis, whose criminal sowing of -wild oats appeared to be the expression of a nature with an insatiable -appetite for adventure. The adventure of lawlessness appealed to him as -a game, the very hazards involved luring him on, as "the red game<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> of -war" has lured many a young man and the game of high finance has -ensnared many an older one.</p> - -<p>But Sam Ellis indulged in mental adventures also—in the game of making -fiction so convincing as to be accepted as fact, for Sam was born a -teller of stories. Perhaps I ought to have regarded Sam as a plain liar, -but I never could so regard him, for he frankly discussed this faculty -as he might have discussed any other talent; and he told me that he -found endless fascination in making others believe the pure fabrications -of his imagination. I always felt that as a writer of fiction he would -have found his true vocation and made a success. He had a feeling for -literature, too, and I think he has happily expressed what companions -books may be to a prisoner in the following extract from one of his -letters:</p> - -<p>"I have been fairly devouring Seneca, Montaigne, Saadi, Marcus Aurelius, -Rochefoucauld, Bacon, Sir Thomas More, Shelley, Schopenhauer, Clodd, -Clifford, Huxley, Spencer, Fiske, Emerson, Ignatius Donnelly, Bryan, B. -O. Flower, J. K. Hosmer, and a host of lesser lights." Of Emerson he -says: "We are friends. It was a great rise for me and a terrible -come-down for him. I've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> done nothing but read, think, talk, and dream -Emerson for two weeks, and familiarity only cements our friendship the -stronger. It must have taken some extraordinary high thinking to create -such pure and delightful things. He uplifts one into a higher atmosphere -and carries the thought along on broad and liberal lines. Instead of -making one look down into the gutter to see the reflection of the sky, -he has us look up into the sky itself." In hours of depression this man -sought the companionship of Marjorie Fleming. Truly he understood the -value of the old advice: "To divert thyself from a troublesome fancy -'tis but to run to thy bookes." And to think of that dear Pet Marjorie -winging her way through the century and across the sea to cheer and -brighten the very abode of gloom and despair! No desire had this man to -read detective stories—he lived them—his life out of prison was full -of excitement and escapade. When seasons of reflection came he turned to -something entirely different; and were not the forces working upward -within him as vital and active as the downward tendencies?</p> - -<p>However that may be, neither Dick Mallory nor I succeeded in getting any -firm grip on that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> mercurial being; but he never tried to impose on -either of us, was always responsive to my interest in him, and found a -chance to do me a good turn before he disappeared from my horizon in a -far western mining district where doubtless other adventures awaited -him. Dick Mallory always regarded Sam with warm affection, and his -clear-cut personality has left a vivid picture in my memory.</p> - -<p>I find that Dick Mallory was the centre from which radiated more of my -acquaintances in the prison than from any one other source. His mind was -always on the alert regarding the men around him, and he was always on -the lookout for means of helping them. In one of our interviews his -greeting to me was:</p> - -<p>"There are two Polish boys here that you must see; and you must do -something for them."</p> - -<p>"Not another prisoner will I get acquainted with, Dick," was my reply. -"I've more men on my list now than I can do justice to. I've not time -for another one."</p> - -<p>"It makes no difference whether you have time or not, these boys ought -to be out of here and there's nobody to get them out but you," said Dick -in a tone of finality.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>I saw instantly that not only was the fate of the Polish boys involved, -but my standing in the opinion of Mallory; for between us two was the -unspoken understanding that we could count on each other, and Dick knew -perfectly well that I could not fail him. Nothing in all my prison -experience so warms my heart as the thought of our Polish boys. Neither -of them was twenty years of age; they were working boys of good general -character, and yet they were serving a fifteen-year sentence imposed -because of some technicality in an ill-framed law.</p> - -<p>My interview with the younger of the boys was wholly satisfactory. I -found him frank and intelligent and ready to give me every point in his -case. But with the older one it was different; he listened in silence to -all my questions, refusing any reply. At last I said: "You must answer -my questions or I shall not be able to do anything for you." Then he -turned his great black velvet eyes upon me and said only: "You mean to -do me some harm?" What a comment on the boy's experience in Chicago -courts! He simply could not conceive of a stranger seeking him with any -but a harmful motive. And we made no further progress that time, but -when I came again there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> was welcome in the black velvet eyes, and with -the greeting, "I know now that you are my friend," he gave me his -statement and answered all my questions.</p> - -<p>Now it seemed impossible that such a severe sentence could have been -passed on those boys without some just cause. But I had faith in Dick -Mallory's judgment of them, and my own impressions were altogether -favorable; furthermore, my good friend the warden was convinced that -grave injustice had been done.</p> - -<p>It was two years before I had disentangled all the threads and -marshalled all my evidence and laid the case before the governor. The -governor looked the papers over carefully, and then said:</p> - -<p>"If I did all my work as thoroughly as this has been done I should not -be criticised as I am now. What would you like me to do for these boys?"</p> - -<p>Making one bold dash for what I wanted I answered: "I should like you to -give me two pardons that I can take to the boys to-morrow."</p> - -<p>The governor rang for his secretary, to whom he said: "Make out two -pardons for these Polish boys." And ten minutes later, with the two -pardons in my hand, I left the governor's office.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> And so it came to -pass that I was indebted to Dick Mallory for one of the very happiest -hours of my life.</p> - -<p>When I reached the prison next day the good news had preceded me. One of -the officers met me at the door and clasped both my hands in welcome, -saying:</p> - -<p>"There isn't an officer or a convict in this prison who will not rejoice -in the freedom of those boys, and every convict will know of it."</p> - -<p>As for the Polish boys themselves, the blond, a dear boy, was expecting -good news; but the black velvet eyes of the dark one were bewildered by -the unbelievable good fortune. I stood at the door and shook hands with -them as they entered into freedom, and afterward received letters from -both giving the details of their homecoming. And so the purpose of -Mallory was accomplished.</p> - -<p>These are but few of the many who owed a debt of gratitude to this man. -Only last year a man now dying in England, in one of his letters to me, -referred gratefully to assistance given him by Mallory on his release -from prison many years ago. Mallory's letters are all the record of a -helping hand. Through them all runs the silver<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> thread of human -kindness, the traces of benefits conferred and efforts made on behalf of -others.</p> - -<p>And what of Dick Mallory's own life after his release from prison? He -had always lacked faith in himself and in his future, and now the -current of existence seemed set against him. He was thirty-two years old -and more than half his life had been spent in confinement, under -restraint. In his ambition to earn money for himself while working on -prison contracts, he had drawn too heavily on both physical and nervous -resources. In his own words: "I did not realize at all the physical -condition I was in. If I could only have gone to some place where I -could have recuperated under medical attention! But no! I only wanted to -get to work. <i>All I knew was work.</i>"</p> - -<p>The hard times of '93 came on, a man had to take what work he could get, -and Mallory could not do the work that came in his way. His mother died -and the home was broken up. He again resorted to the sociability of the -saloon, and with the renewal of old associations and under the -influences of stimulants the reckless lawlessness of his boyhood again -broke out into some action that resulted in a term in another prison.</p> - -<p>The man was utterly crushed. His old criminal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> record was brought to -light and he found himself ensnared in the toils of his past. He was -bitterly humiliated—he was in no position to earn a penny, and no -channel for the generous impulses still strong within him was now open. -The old buoyancy of his nature still flickered occasionally from the -dying embers, but gradually darkened into a dull despair as far as his -own life was concerned. But his interest in others survived, and the -only favors he ever asked of me were on behalf of "the boys" whom he -could no longer help. He still wrote me freely and his letters tell -their own story:</p> - -<p>"At one time in our friendship I really believed that everything was -possible in my future. I never meant to deceive you— And when I -realized my broken promises my heart broke too. I have never been the -same man since and can never be again. I cannot help looking on the dark -side for life has been so hard for me. Ah! it is a hard place when you -reach the stage where the future seems so hopeless as it does to me."</p> - -<p>And hopeless it truly was; imprisonment and dissipation had done their -work and his death came shortly after his release from this prison.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> -Since his life had proved a losing game it was far better that it should -end. But was not Robert Louis Stevenson right in his belief that all our -moral failures do not lessen the value of our good qualities and our -good deeds? The good that Mallory did was positive and enduring; and -surely his name should be written among those who loved their fellow -men.</p> - -<p>To me the very most cruel stroke in the fate of Dick Mallory was this: -that in the minds of many his history may seem to justify the severity -of legislation against habitual criminals. With all his efforts to save -others, himself he could not save—and well as he knew the injustice -resulting from life sentences for "habituals," the sum of his life -counted against clemency for this class.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p>Dick Mallory himself was given the maximum sentence of fourteen years -for larceny under the habitual-criminal act; and he did not resent the -sentence in his own case because he found life in the penitentiary on -the whole as satisfactory as it had been on the outside; and when I met -him he had become deeply interested in the other prisoners. But he -resented the fact that the "habitual act" was applied without -discrimination to any one convicted of a second offence. He was doing -some study on his own account of the individual men called "habituals." -I never understood how Dick Mallory contrived to know as much about -individual convicts as he did know; but he was a keen observer and -quick-witted, and the guards and foremen often gave him bits of -information. He admitted, however, that his real knowledge of the men -under the "habitual act" was meagre, and asked me to make some personal -observations. To this end he gave me a list of some half-dozen men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> whom -I promised to interview, and in this way began my acquaintance with -Peter Belden, an acquaintance destined to continue many years after Dick -Mallory had passed beyond the reach of earthly courts.</p> - -<p>Peter Belden was then a man something over thirty years of age, stunted -in growth, somewhat deaf, with his right arm paralyzed through some -accident in the prison shop. His hair, eyes, and complexion were much of -a color, but his good, strong features expressed intelligence. He wore -the convict stripes, which had the effect of blotting individuality -throughout the prison.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding these physical disadvantages, a criminal record and a -lifetime of unfavorable environment, some inherent force and manliness -in his nature made itself felt. He took it for granted that I would not -question his sincerity, neither did I. He said nothing of his own -hardships, made no appeal to my sympathy, but discussed the -habitual-criminal act quite impersonally and intelligently; assuming at -once the attitude of one ready to assist me in any effort for the -benefit of the criminal class to which he belonged.</p> - -<p>But while he was talking about others I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> thinking about him, and -when I inquired what I could do for him personally he asked me to obtain -the warden's permission to have a pencil and a writing-tablet in his -cell, as he liked to work at mathematical problems in his cell. This was -the only favor the man asked of me while he was in prison, and to this -day I do not know if he thought his fourteen-year sentence was unjust. -As he was quite friendless, and neither received nor wrote letters, he -was only too glad to correspond with me. I was surprised on receiving -his first letter to find his left-handed writing regular and clear, with -only an occasional slip in spelling or in correct English.</p> - -<p>Always interested in the origin and in the formative influences which -had resulted in the criminal life of these men, I asked Belden to write -for me the story of his youth; and I give it from his own letters, now -before me, in his own words as far as possible:</p> - -<p>"I have often thought that the opportunities of life have been pretty -hard with me, still I have tried always to make the best of it. I know -there are many who have fared worse than I, and in my pity towards them -I have managed to find the hard side of life easier than otherwise.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p><p>"I was born on an island off the coast of England. My father and mother -were of Irish descent, but we all spoke both English and French, and I -was in school for four years before I was twelve. My studies were French -and English, history, grammar and spelling; but I put everything aside -for arithmetic and other branches of mathematics: as long as I can -remember I had a greedy taste for figures; I earned my school expenses -by doing odd jobs for a farmer, for we were very poor. My father was a -hard drinker and there were fourteen of us in the family. There were -days when we did not have but a meal or two, and some days when we had -nothing at all to eat."</p> - -<p>The boy's mother was ambitious for his education; she had relatives in -one of our western States, and when Peter was twelve years old he was -sent to this country with the understanding that he was to be kept in -school.</p> - -<p>"But instead of going to school as I had expected I was knocked and -kicked about here and everywhere. My cousin would say, 'It's schoolin' -ye want is it? I'll give ye schoolin',' and her schoolin' was always -given with a club or a kick. 'Learnin' and educatin'? It's too much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> of -thim ye have already; go out and mind the cow.'"</p> - -<p>The boy endured this life for several months, "dreading this cousin so -much that sometimes I'd stay out all night, sleeping in the near-by -woods." Then, in an hour of desperation, he decided to run away, and -after two or three temporary places where he worked for his board he -drifted into the lumber regions of Michigan. There his ambition for an -education was gratified in an unlooked-for and most curious fashion.</p> - -<p>During the seventies various rumors of immoral houses in connection with -these lumber regions were afloat, and later measures were taken which -effectually dispersed the inmates. One of these houses was kept by a -college graduate from the East, who had been educated for the ministry -but had deflected from the straight and narrow path into the business of -counterfeiting; in consequence he spent five years in prison and -afterward sought refuge from his past in the wilds of Michigan.</p> - -<p>Chance or fate led Peter Belden, a boy of thirteen, into the circle of -this man's dominion, where, strangely enough, the higher side of the -boy's nature found some chance of development. Peter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> was given -employment at this "Rossman's" as caretaker to the dogs and as -general-errand boy. The man, Rossman, studied the boy, and discovering -his passion for learning cemented a bond between them by the promise of -an equivalent to a course in college.</p> - -<p>It seemed, indeed, like falling into the lap of good fortune for Peter -to be clothed and fed and given a room of his own "with college books on -the shelves" open to his use at any time; "and there was, besides, a -trunk full of books—all kinds of scientific books."</p> - -<p>And here, to his heart's content, the boy revelled in the use of books. -Study was his recreation: and true to his word Rossman gave him daily -instruction, taking him through algebra, trigonometry, and the various -branches of higher mathematics, not omitting geography and history -and—<i>Bible Study</i> every Sunday. Who can fathom the heights and depths, -the mysterious complexities of Rossman's nature? This is Peter's tribute -to the man:</p> - -<p>"I was with him for three years; I always thought he was very kind, not -only to me but to all the girls in the house and to every one."</p> - -<p>In this morally outlawed community Peter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> grew to be sixteen years old, -attracting to him by some magnetism in his own nature the best elements -in his unfavorable environment. And here the one romance in his life -occurred; on his part at least it seems to have been as idyllic as was -Paul's feeling for Virginia. The girl, young and pretty, was a voluntary -member of "Rossman's." She, too, had a history. Somewhat strictly reared -by her family, she had been placed in a convent school, where she found -the repression and restraint unbearable. In her reckless desire for -freedom, taking advantage of a chance to escape from the convent school, -she found refuge in the nearest city, and while there was induced to -join the Rossman group with no knowledge of the abyss into which she was -plunging. She was still a novice in this venture when she became -interested in Peter Belden, the young student. Together they worked at -problems in figures, their talk often wandering from the problems in -books to the problems of life, especially their own lives, until the day -came when Peter told her that he could not live without her.</p> - -<p>Then the two young things laid their plans to leave that community, be -honestly married, and to work out the problem of life together. -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>However, this was not to be—for death claimed the wayward girl and -closed the brief chapter of romance in Belden's life. And the man, near -sixty years old now, still keeps this bit of springtime in his heart, -and "May"—so aptly named—through the distillation of time and the -alchemy of memory appears to him now an angel of light, the one love of -his life.</p> - -<p>Other changes were now on the wing. "Rossman's" was no longer to be -tolerated, and the proprietor was obliged to disband his group and leave -that part of the country. It was then that the truly baleful influence -of Rossman asserted itself, blighting fatally the young life now bound -to him by ties of gratitude and habit, and even turning the development -of his mathematical gift into a curse. Forced to abandon the -disreputable business in which he had been engaged, Rossman opened a -gambling-house in Chicago, initiating Belden into all the ways that are -dark and all the artful dodges practised in these gambling-hells. Here -Belden's natural gift for calculation and combination of numbers, -reinforced by mathematical training, came into play. The fascination of -the game for its own sake has even crept into one of Belden's letters to -me, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> several pages are devoted to proving how certain results can -be obtained by scientific manipulation of the cards. But again Rossman's -business fell under the ban of the law, and soon after, for some overt -act of dishonesty, Belden was sent to the penitentiary.</p> - -<p>A year later an ex-convict with power of resistance weakened by the -rigidity of prison discipline, with no trade, the ten dollars given by -the State invested in cheap outer clothing to replace the suit, -recognizable at a glance by the police, which the State then bestowed -upon the ex-convict, Belden returned to Chicago. Friendless, penniless, -accustomed to live by his wits, Belden was soon "in trouble" again, was -speedily convicted under the habitual-criminal act and given the maximum -sentence of fourteen years. Three years of this sentence Belden served -after the beginning of our acquaintance. He had met with the accident -resulting in the paralysis of his arm, and his outlook was hopeless and -dreary. However, after the loss of the use of his right hand he -immediately set to work learning to write with his left hand, and this -he speedily accomplished. The tablet granted by the warden at my request -was soon covered with abstruse mathematical <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>problems; differential -calculus was of course meaningless to the guards, but a continuous -supply of tablets was allowed as a safe outlet for a mind considered -"cracked" on the subject of figures. Owing to his infirmities Belden's -prison tasks were light; his devotion to Warden McClaughrey, who treated -him with kindness, kept him obedient to prison rules, while his obliging -disposition won the friendly regard of fellow prisoners. And so the time -drifted by until his final release. This time he left the prison clad in -a well-fitting second-hand suit sent by a friend. Dick Mallory, who was -then a free man, welcomed him in Chicago, saw him on board the train for -another city in which I had arranged for his entrance into a "home," and -with hearty good will speeded his departure from criminal ranks. This -was in the year 1893; from that day forward Peter Belden has lived an -honest life.</p> - -<p>The inmates of the home, or the members of that family, as the sainted -woman who established and superintended the place considered these men, -were expected to contribute toward the expense of the home what it -actually cost to keep them. During the hard winters of 1894 and 1895 -able-bodied men by thousands were vainly seeking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> work and awaiting -their turn in the breadline at the end of a fruitless day, while Peter -Belden, with his right arm useless, by seizing every chance to earn -small amounts, and by strictest self-denial, contrived to meet the bare -needs of his life. Once or twice for a few days he could not do this, -but the superintendent of the home tided him over these breaks; and I -knew from her that Belden was unflagging in his effort to make his -expenses. That this was far from easy is shown by the following extract -from a letter written in the winter of 1895:</p> - -<p>"I am in pretty good health, thank you, but I have had a hard, hard -time. Do the very best I can I can't get ahead; yesterday I had to -borrow a dollar from the home. Still I am pegging away, day in and day -out, selling note paper. I have felt like giving up in despair many -times these last few months. A <i>something</i>, however, tells me to keep -on. You have kindly asked me if I needed clothing. Yes, thank you, I -need shoes and stockings and I haven't money to buy them. Now, dear -friend, don't spend any money in getting these things for me; I shall be -glad and thankful for anything that has been used before."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p><p>As financial prosperity gradually returned, making the ends meet became -easier to Belden. Among his round of note-paper customers he established -friendly relations and was able to enlarge his stock of salable -articles, and he won the confidence of two large concerns that gave him -goods on the instalment plan. At this time the superintendent of the -home wrote me:</p> - -<p>"I am deeply interested in Peter Belden, for he has been a good, honest, -industrious man ever since he came to us. I want to tell you that your -kindly efforts are fully appreciated by him. He is earnestly working up -in a business way, and all who have anything to do with him as a man -have confidence in him."</p> - -<p>Belden's interests, too, began to widen and his frequent letters to me -at this time are like moving pictures, giving glimpses of interiors of -various homes and of contact with all sorts of people—a sympathetic -Jewish woman, a brilliant Catholic bishop, a fake magnetic healer and -spiritualistic fraud. He even approached the celebrated Dean Hole at the -conclusion of a lecture in order to secure the dean's autograph, which -he sent me; and he had interesting experiences with various other -characters. He was frequently drawn into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> religious discussions, but -firmly held his ground that creeds or lack of creeds were nothing to him -so long as one was good and helpful to others. This simple belief was -consistent with his course of action. Pity dwelt ever in his heart, and -I do not believe that he ever slighted a chance to give the helping -hand. He did not forget the prisoners left behind in the penitentiary -where he had been confined, sending them magazines and letters, and -messages through me. In one of his letters I find this brief incident, -so characteristic of the man as I have known him:</p> - -<p>"While I was canvassing to-day I saw a poor blind dog— It was a very -pitiful sight. He would go here a little and there a little, moving -backward and forward. The poor thing did not know where he was, for he -was blind as could be, and not only blind but lame also. Something -struck me when I saw him; I said to myself, 'I am crippled but I might -be like this poor dog some day; who can tell? I certainly shall do what -I can for him.'</p> - -<p>"I could not take him home with me but I did the next best thing, for I -took him from the pack of boys who began chasing him and gave him to a -woman who was looking out of a window<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> evidently interested and -sympathetic; she promised to care for him."</p> - -<p>In the hundreds of letters written me by Belden I do not find a line of -condemnation or even of harsh criticism of any one, although he shares -the prejudice common to men of his class against wealthy church-members. -Not that he was envious of their possessions, but, knowing too well the -cruelty and the moral danger of extreme poverty and ready to spend his -last dollar to relieve suffering, he simply could not conceive how it -was possible for a follower of Christ to accumulate wealth while -sweat-shops and child labor existed.</p> - -<p>At this period of Belden's life his knowledge of mathematics afforded -him great pleasure, and it brought him into prominence in the newspaper -columns given to mathematical puzzles, where "Mr. Belden" was quoted as -final authority. Numerous were the newspaper clippings enclosed in his -letters to me, and I have before me an autograph note to Belden from the -query editor of a prominent paper, in which he says:</p> - -<p>"Your solution of the problem is a most ingenious and mathematically -learned analysis of the question presented, and highly creditable to -your talent."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>This recognition of superiority in the realm of his natural gift and -passion was precious indeed to Belden, but he was extremely sensitive in -regard to his past and avoided contact and acquaintance with those who -might be curious about it. And to be known as an inmate of the home was -to be known as an ex-convict.</p> - -<p>This maimed, ex-convict life he must bear to the end: only outside of -that could he meet men as their equal; and so he guarded his incognito, -but not altogether successfully.</p> - -<p>Once he made the experiment of going to a neighboring city and trying to -make some commercial use of his mathematics, but he could not gain his -starting-point. He had no credentials as teacher, and while he might -have been valuable as an expert accountant his disadvantages were too -great to be overcome.</p> - -<p>More and more frequently as the years passed came allusions to loss of -time through illness. His faithful friend, the superintendent of the -home, had passed to her reward, and the home as Belden had known it was -a thing of the past.</p> - -<p>Life was becoming a losing game, a problem too hard to be solved, when -tubercular tendencies of long standing developed and Belden became a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> -charge on some branch of the anti-tuberculosis movement, where he spent -a summer out of doors. Here he frankly faced the fact of the disease -that was developing, and characteristically read all the medical works -on the subject that the camp afforded, determined to make a good fight -against the enemy. He seemed to find a sort of comfort in bringing -himself into companionship with certain men of genius who had fought the -same foe; he mentions Robert Louis Stevenson, Chopin, and Keats, and, -more hopefully, others who were finally victorious over the disease.</p> - -<p>With the approach of cold weather it was thought best to send Belden to -a warmer climate; arrangements were made accordingly, and he was given a -ticket to a far distant place where it was supposed he would have a -better chance of recovery. There for a time he rallied and grew -stronger, but only to face fresh hardships. He was physically incapable -of earning a living, and it was not long before he became a public -charge and was placed in an infirmary for old men; for more than fifty -years of poverty and struggle with fate had left the traces of a -lifetime on the worn-out body. But the "something" which he felt told -him to keep on through many hardships<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> does not desert him now, and the -old spirit of determination to make the best of things holds out still. -His letters show much the same habit of observation as formerly; bits of -landscape gleam like pictures through some of his pages, and historical -associations in which I might be interested are gathered and reported. -His one most vital interest at present seems to be the production of -this book, as he firmly believes that no one else can "speak for the -prisoners" as the writer.</p> - -<p>It seems that even Death itself, "who breaks all chains and sets all -captives free," cannot be kind to Peter Belden, and delays coming, -through wearisome days and more wearisome nights. But at last, when the -dark curtain of life is lifted, we can but trust that a happier fortune -awaits him in a happier country.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p>At the time of my first visit to the penitentiary of my own State the -warden surprised me by saying: "Among the very best men in the prison -are the 'life' men, the men here for murder."</p> - -<p>How true this was I could not then realize, but as in time I came to -know well so many of these men the words of the warden were fully -confirmed.</p> - -<p>The law classes the killing of one person by another under three heads: -murder in the first degree; murder in the second degree; and -manslaughter. The murder deliberately planned and executed constitutes -murder in the first degree; and for this, in many of our States, the -penalty is still capital punishment; otherwise, legal murder -deliberately planned and officially executed, the penalty duplicating -the offence in general outline. This is the popular conception of -fitting the punishment to the crime; and its continuance ignores the -obvious truth that, so long as the law justifies and sets the example of -taking life under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> given circumstances, so long will the individual -justify himself in taking life under circumstances which seem to him to -warrant doing so; the individual simply takes the law into his own -hands. War and the death penalty are the two most potent sources of -mental suggestion in the direction of murder.</p> - -<p>In every execution within the walls of a penitentiary the suggestion of -murder is sown broadcast among the other convicts, and is of especial -danger to those mentally unsound. As long as capital punishment is -upheld as necessary to the protection of society each State should have -its State executioner; and executions should take place at the State -capital in the presence of the governor and as many legislators as may -be in the city. In relegating to the penitentiary the ugly office of -Jack Ketch we escape the realization of what it all is—how revolting, -how barbarous—and we throw one more horror into the psychic atmosphere -of prison life.</p> - -<p>Several factors have combined to hold the death penalty so long on the -throne of justice. Evolution has not yet eliminated from the human being -the elementary savage instinct of bloodthirstiness, so frightfully -disclosed in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>revolting rush of the populace eager to witness the -public executions perpetrated in France in the present century; public -executions in defiance of the established fact that men hitherto -harmless have gone from the sight of an execution impelled to kill some -equally harmless individual.</p> - -<p>Many good men and women, ignoring the practical effect of anything so -obscure as "suggestion," honestly believe that fear of the death penalty -has a restraining influence upon the criminal class. In those States and -countries which have had the courage to abolish the death penalty the -soundness of the "deterrent effect" theory is being tested; statistics -vary in different localities but the aggregate of general statistics -shows a decrease in murders following the abolition of the death -penalty.</p> - -<p>A silent partner in the support of capital punishment is the general -assumption that the murderer is a normal and a morally responsible human -being. Science is now leading us to a clearer understanding of the -relation between the moral and the physical in human nature, and we are -beginning to perceive that complex and far-reaching are the causes, the -undercurrents, the abnormal impulses which come to the surface<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> in the -act of murder. Some years ago in England, upon the examination of the -brains of a successive number of men executed for murder, it was -ascertained that eighty-five per cent of those brains were organically -diseased. Granting that these men were criminally murderers, we must -grant also that they were mentally unsound, themselves victims of -disease before others became their victims. Where the moral -responsibility lies, the Creator alone can know; perhaps in a crowded -room of a foul tenement an overworked mother or a brutal father struck a -little boy on the head, and the little brain <i>went wrong</i>, some of those -infinitesimal brain-cells related to moral conduct were crushed, and -years afterward the effect of the cruel blow on the head of the -defenceless child culminated in the murderous blow from the hand of this -child grown to manhood. And back of the blow given the child stand the -saloon and the sweat-shop and the bitter poverty and want which can -change a human being into a brute. Saloons and sweat-shops flourish in -our midst, and cruel is the pressure of poverty, and terrible in their -results are the blows inflicted upon helpless children. When the State -vigorously sets to work to remove or ameliorate the social conditions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> -which cause crime there will be fewer lawless murderers to be legally -murdered.</p> - -<p>Time and again men innocent of the crime have been executed for murder. -Everything is against a man accused of murder. The simple accusation -antagonizes the public against the accused man. The press, which loves -to be sensational, joins in the prosecution, sometimes also the pulpit. -The tortures of the sweat-box are resorted to, that the accused may be -driven to convict himself before being tried; and one who has no money -may find himself convicted simply because he cannot prove his -innocence—although the law professes to hold a man innocent until his -guilt is proven.</p> - -<p>For years I was an advocate of the death penalty as a merciful -alternative to life imprisonment. Knowing that the certainty of -approaching death may effect spiritual awakening and bring to the -surface all that is best in a man; believing that death is the great -liberator and the gateway to higher things; knowing that a man -imprisoned for life may become mentally and spiritually deadened by the -hopelessness of his fate, or may become so intent on palliating, -excusing, or justifying his crime as to lose all sense of guilt, perhaps -eventually to believe himself a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> victim rather than a criminal; knowing -the unspeakable suffering of the man who abandons himself to remorse, -and knowing how often the "life man" becomes a prey to insanity, in -sheer pity for the prisoner I came to regard the death penalty as a -merciful means of escape from an incomparably worse fate.</p> - -<p>So far my point of view was taken only in relation to the prisoner for -life. Later, when I had studied the subject more broadly, in considering -the effect of the death penalty upon the community at large and as a -measure for the protection of society, I could not escape the conviction -that in the civilized world of to-day capital punishment is -indefensible. Christianity, humanity, sociology, medical science, -psychology, and statistics stand solid against the injustice and the -unwisdom of capital punishment. Public sentiment, the last bulwark of -the death penalty, is slowly but surely becoming enlightened, and the -final victory of humanitarianism is already assured.</p> - -<p>Throughout the United States the legal penalty for murder in the second -degree is imprisonment for life; then follows the crime called -manslaughter, when the act is committed in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>self-defence or under other -extenuating circumstances; the penalty for which is imprisonment for a -varying but limited term of years. Practically there is no definite line -dividing murder in the second degree from manslaughter. A clever expert -lawyer, whether on the side of prosecution or the defence, has little -difficulty in carrying his case over the border in the one direction or -the other. Money, and the social position of the accused, are important -factors in adjusting the delicate balance between murder in the second -degree and manslaughter.</p> - -<p>Various are the pathways that lead to the illegal taking of life; -terrible often the pressure brought to bear upon the man before the deed -is done. Deadly fear, the fear common to humanity, has been the force -that drove the hand of many a man to strike, stab, or shoot with fatal -effect; while anger, righteous or unrighteous, the momentary impulse of -intense emotional excitement to which we are all more or less liable, -has gathered its host of victims and caused the tragic ruin of -unnumbered men now wearing life away in our penitentiaries.</p> - -<p>And terribly true it is that some of the "life" men are among the best -in our prisons, the "life"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> men who are all indiscriminately called -murderers. That some of them were murderers at heart and a menace to the -community we cannot doubt; doubtless, also, some are innocent of any -crime; and there are others for whom it would be better for all -concerned if they were given liberty to-day.</p> - -<p>It seems to be assumed that a man unjustly imprisoned suffers more than -the one who knows that he has only himself to blame. Much depends upon -the nature of the man. Given two men of equally sound moral nature, -while the one with a clear conscience may suffer intensely, from the -sense of outrage and injustice, from the tearing of the heart-strings -and the injury to business relations, his mental agony can hardly equal -that of the man whose heart is eaten out with remorse. The best company -any prisoner can have is his own self-respect, the best asset of a -bankrupt life. I have been amazed to see for how much that counts in the -peace and hope, and the great power of patience which makes for health -and gives strength for endurance.</p> - -<p>I was deeply impressed with this fact in the case of one man. His name -was Gay Bowers, a name curiously inconsistent with his fate, and, "life -man" though he was, no one in that big<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> prison ever associated him with -murder; no one who really looked into his face could have thought him a -criminal. It was the only face I ever saw, outside of a book, that -seemed chastened through sorrow; his gentle smile was like the faint -sunshine of an April day breaking through the mists; and there was about -the man an atmosphere of youth and springtime though he was near forty -when we first met; but it was the arrested youth of a man to whom life -seemed to have ended when he was but twenty-two.</p> - -<p>Gay was country born and bred, loved and early married a country girl, -and was known throughout the neighborhood as a hard-working, steady -young fellow. He lived in a village near the Mississippi River, and one -summer he went down to St. Louis on some business and returned by boat. -On the steamboat a stranger, a young man of near his age, made advances -toward acquaintance, and hearing his name exclaimed:</p> - -<p>"Gay Bowers! why my name is Ray Bowers, and I'm looking for work. I -guess I'll go to your town and we'll call each other cousins; perhaps we -are related."</p> - -<p>The stranger seemed very friendly and kept with Bowers when they reached -the home town;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> there Ray found work and seemed all right for a while.</p> - -<p>And here I must let Gay Bowers tell the rest of the story as he told it -to me, in his own words as nearly as I can remember them. I listened -intently to his low, quiet voice, but I seemed reading the story in his -eyes at the same time, for the absolutely convincing element was the way -in which Bowers was living it all over again as he unfolded the scene -with a certain thrill in his tones. I felt as if I was actually -witnessing the occurrence, so vividly was the picture in his mind -transferred to mine.</p> - -<p>"My wife and I had just moved into a new home that very day, we and our -little year-old girl, and Ray had helped us in the moving and stayed to -supper with us. After supper Ray said he must go, and asked me to go a -piece with him as he had something to say to me.</p> - -<p>"So I went along with him. Back of the house the road ran quite a way -through deep woods. We were in the middle of the woods when Ray stopped -and told me what he wanted of me. He told me that he had been a -horse-thief over in Missouri, that his picture was in 'the rogues' -gallery' in St. Louis over his own name, Jones;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> that it wasn't safe for -him to be in Missouri, where he was 'wanted' and that he had got on the -boat without any plans; but as soon as he saw me, a working, country -man, he thought he might as well hitch on to me and go to my place. But -he said he was tired of working; and farmer Smith had a fine pair of -horses which he could dispose of if I would take them out of the barn -into the next county. Ray wanted me to do this because of my good -reputation. Everybody knew me and I was safe from suspicion; and he said -we could make a lot of money for us both if I went into the business -with him.</p> - -<p>"All of a sudden I knew then that for some time I'd been <i>feeling</i> that -Ray wasn't quite square. There had been some little things—of course I -said I wouldn't go in with him; and I don't know what else I said for I -was pretty mad to find out what kind of a man he was and how he had -fooled me. Perhaps I threatened to tell the police; anyway Ray said he -would kill me before I had a chance to give him away if I didn't go into -the deal with him, for then I wouldn't dare 'peach.' Still I refused.</p> - -<p>"And then"—here a look of absolute terror came into Bowers's -eyes—"then he suddenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> struck me a terrible blow and I knew I was in a -fight for my life. He fought like the desperate man that he was. I -managed to reach down and pick up a stick and struck out: I never -thought of killing the man; it was just a blind fight to defend myself.</p> - -<p>"But he let go and fell. When he did not move I bent over him and felt -for his heart. I could not find it beating; but I could not believe he -was dead. I waited for some sign of life but there was none. I was -horror-struck and dazed; but I knew I could not leave him in the road -where he had fallen, so I dragged him a little way into the woods. There -I left him.</p> - -<p>"I hurried back home to tell my wife what had happened; but when I -opened the door my wife was sitting beside the cradle where the baby -was. Cynthy was tired and sleepy with her day's work, and everything -seemed so natural and peaceful I just couldn't tell her, and I couldn't -think, or anything. So I told her she'd better go to bed while I went -across the road to speak to her father.</p> - -<p>"It wasn't more than nine o'clock then, and I found her father sitting -alone smoking his pipe. He began to talk about his farm work. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> didn't -notice anything queer about me and I was so dazed-like that it all began -to seem unreal to me. I tried once or twice to break into his talk and -tell him, but I couldn't put the horror into words—<i>I couldn't</i>.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it wouldn't have made any difference if I had told him; anyway -I didn't. When the body was found next morning of course they came right -to our house with the story, for Ray had told folks that he was a -relation of mine. I told just what had happened but it didn't count for -anything—I was tried for murder and not given a chance to make any -statement. Because I was well thought of by my neighbors they didn't -give me the rope, but sent me here for life."</p> - -<p>Bowers had been sixteen years in prison when I first met him. He had -accepted his fate as an overwhelming misfortune, like blindness or -paralysis, but never for a moment had he lost his self-respect, and he -clung to his religion as the isle of refuge in his wrecked existence.</p> - -<p>"Mailed in the armor of a pure intent" which the degradations of convict -life could not penetrate, as the years passed he had achieved true -serenity of spirit, and that no doubt contributed to his apparently -unbroken health. His work was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> not on contract but in a shop where -prison supplies were made, canes for the officers, etc. One day Bowers -sent me a beautifully made cane, which I may be glad to use if I ever -live to have rheumatism.</p> - -<p>Bowers, like all life men, early laid his plans for a pardon and had a -lawyer draw up a petition; but the difficulty in the case was that there -wasn't a particle of evidence against the dead man excepting Bowers's -own word. But Bowers's mind was set on establishing the truth of his -statement regarding the character of the other man, and he saw only one -way of doing this. Ray had said that his real name was Jones, and his -photograph was in the rogues' gallery in St. Louis under the name of -Jones. Now, if there was such a photograph in St. Louis Bowers -determined to get it, and at last, after ten years, he obtained -possession of the photograph, with the help of a lawyer, and again he -looked upon the face of Ray, named Jones, with the record "horse-thief." -The proven character of Jones did not alter the fact that he had been -killed by Bowers; nor in that part of the country did it serve as a -reason for release of Bowers; and the years went on the same as before.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p><p>Bowers's wife had not learned to write, but the baby, Carrie, grew into -a little girl and went to school, and she wrote regularly to her father, -who was very proud of her letters. When still a little girl she was -taken into a neighbor's family. After a time the neighbor's wife died -and Carrie not being equal to the work of the house her mother came to -help out—so said Carrie's letters. And Bowers, who still cherished the -home ties, was thankful that his wife and child were taken care of. -Every night he prayed for them and always he hoped for the day when he -could take them in his arms.</p> - -<p>His letters to me were few as he wrote regularly to his daughter; but -after he had been in prison eighteen years he wrote me the joyful news -that he would be released in a few weeks, for his lawyer had proven a -faithful friend. The letter was a very happy one written in December, -and the warden had allowed Bowers to tinker up some little gifts to be -sent to the wife and daughter. "They stand in a row before me as I am -writing, <i>and I think they are as beautiful as butterflies</i>," his letter said.</p> - -<p>On his release Bowers, now a man past forty, had to begin life over -again. He had lost his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> place in his community, he had no money, but he -had hope and ambition, and as a good chance was offered him in the -penitentiary city he decided to take it and go right to work. He wrote -his daughter that he would arrange for her and her mother to come to -him, and there they would start a new home together.</p> - -<p>Little did he dream of the shock awaiting him when the answer to that -letter came, telling him that for several years his wife had been -married to the man who had given Carrie a home. Both the man and the -woman had supposed that when Bowers was sent to prison for life the wife -was divorced and free to marry. She was hopeless as to her husband's -release, and tired and discouraged with her struggle with poverty. Her -brief married life had come to seem only a memory of her youth, and she -was glad of the chance to be taken care of like other women, but a -feeling of tenderness and pity for the prisoner had caused her to -protect him from the knowledge of her inconstancy.</p> - -<p>The second husband felt that to Bowers must be left the decision as to -the adjustment of the tangled relationships, and Bowers wrote me that he -had decided that the second husband had the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> stronger claim, as he had -married the woman in good faith and made her happy; one thing he -insisted upon, however—that if the present arrangement were to -continue, his former wife must take her divorce from him and be legally -married to the other man. And this was done.</p> - -<p>To find himself another Enoch Arden was a hard blow to Bowers, but the -years of work and poverty must have wrought such changes in the girl -wife of long ago that she was lost to him forever; while the man who -came out of that prison after eighteen years of patient endurance and -the spiritual development that long acquaintance with grief sometimes -brings was a different being from the light-hearted young farmer's boy -that the girl had married. They must inevitably have become as strangers -to each other.</p> - -<p>With the daughter the situation was different. From childhood she had -faithfully written to an imaginary father whom she could not remember, -but with whom a real tie must have been formed through their letters; -and Carrie had now come to be near the age of the wife he had left. The -daughter was to come to him, and she must have found in the real father -something even finer than her imagination could have pictured.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p><p>Gay Bowers had been a prisoner for those eighteen years, with never a -criminal thought or intention. As human courts go he was not the victim -of injustice nor could "society" be held in any way responsible. There -was no apparent relation between his environment or his character and -his tragic experience. It was like a Greek drama where Fate rules -inexorable, but this fate was borne with the spirit of a Christian -saint. What the future years held for him I do not know, since through -carelessness on my part our correspondence was not kept up.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> - -<p>In another instance, with quite different threads, the hand of fate -seemed to have woven the destiny of the man, but I was slow in -perceiving that it was not merely the tragedy of the prison that was -unfolding before me but the wider drama of life itself.</p> - -<p>Generally speaking, among my prison acquaintance there was some -correspondence between the personality of the man and his history. The -prisoner who said frankly to me, "I always cheat a man when I can, -because I know he would cheat me if he had the chance: 'tis diamond cut -diamond," this man curiously but logically resembled a fox. And any one -could see at a glance that Gay Bowers was a man in whom was no guile.</p> - -<p>But no clew to the complex nature of Harry Hastings was to be found in -his appearance. We had exchanged a number of letters before we met. He -wrote intelligently with but an occasional slip in spelling, and seemed -to be a man of fair education. He was in prison for life on the charge -of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> having shot in the street a woman of the streets; the man claimed -innocence, but I never tried to unravel the case, as the principal -witness for the defence had left the city where the shooting occurred, -and there seemed to be no starting-point for an appeal for pardon. What -the boy wanted of me—he was but little past twenty—was a channel -through which he could reach the higher things of life. Passionate -aspiration ran through all his letters, aspiration toward the true, the -beautiful, and the good. He quoted Emerson and studied George -Eliot—Romola, the woman, he criticised for being blinded to Tito's -moral qualities by his superficial charms. He had a way of piercing to -the heart of things and finding beauty where many others would have -missed it. Music he loved above all else; and in music his memory was -haunted by "The Coulin"—a wild, despairing cry of downtrodden Ireland, -an air in which, some one has said, "Ireland gathered up her centuries -of oppression and flung it to the world in those heart-breaking -strains." It happened that I had never heard "The Coulin" except under -my own fingers, and it struck me as a curious bit of the boy's make-up -that this tragic music had become part of his mental endowment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> He had -heard it but once, played by a German musician. Barring glimpses of the -world of music, the boy's life had been such as to exclude him from all -the finer associations of life.</p> - -<p>He had written me, in his second letter, that he was "coloured"; and he -had given this information as if he were confessing a crime more serious -even than murder. He really felt that he might be uncovering an -impassable chasm between us. Race prejudices are against my principles, -but I was taken aback when the writer of those interesting letters was -materialized in the person of the blackest little negro I ever saw. -"Black as the ace of spades," was my first thought. He had no father at -that time but was devoted to his mother, who was an illiterate colored -woman. As a growing boy he had gone to a horse-race and, fired with the -ambition to become a horse-jockey, had hung around the racing-stables -until his aptitude for the business attracted the horsemen. Harry was -agile and fearless and of light weight, and when at last his ambition -was attained he told me it was the proudest day of his life; and he felt -that he had achieved glory enough to satisfy any one when the horse he -rode as jockey won the race.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p><p>The associations of the race-track formed the school of those plastic -years; and the thorn in the flesh was the nickname of "the little runt" -by which he was known among the men. The consciousness of his stunted -body and his black skin seemed seared upon his very heart, a living -horror from which there was no escape. This, far more than his fate as a -life prisoner, was the tragedy of his existence. Freedom he could hope -for; but only death could release him from his black body. He did not -despise the colored race; rather was he loyal to it; it was his -individual destiny, the fact that his life was incased in that stunted -black form that kept alive the sense of outrage. He hated to be known as -"the little runt." He hated his coal-black skin.</p> - -<p>Doubtless when free to mingle with colored people on the outside his -other faculties came into play, for he had the darky love of fun and -sense of humor; but the prison life cut him off from all that, and, the -surface of his nature being stifled, what dormant strains of white -ancestry might not have been aroused to activity? His skin was black, -indeed; but his features told the story of the blending with another -race. I could but feel that it was the mind of the white man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> that -suffered so in the body of the black—that in this prisoner the -aristocrat was chained to the slave. The love of literature, the thirst -for the higher things of life, had no connection with "Little Runt," the -ignorant horse-jockey. Was the man dying of homesickness for the lost -plane of life?</p> - -<p>The theosophist would tell us that Harry Hastings might have been a -reincarnation of some cruel slave-trader, merciless of the suffering he -inflicted upon his innocent victims; and possibilities of the stirring -of latent inherited memories are also suggested. Be that as it may, we -cannot solve the problem of that life in which two streams of being were -so clearly defined, where the blue blood was never merged in the black.</p> - -<p>Harry's handwriting was firm, clear-cut, and uniform. I lent to a friend -the most striking and characteristic of his letters, and I can give no -direct quotations from them, as they were not returned; but writing was -his most cherished resource, and he tells me that when answering my -letters he almost forgot that he was a prisoner.</p> - -<p>The terrible ordeal of life was mercifully short to Harry Hastings. When -I saw him last, in the prison hospital, a wasted bit of humanity fast<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> -drifting toward the shores of the unknown, with dying breath he still -asserted his innocence; but he felt himself utterly vanquished by the -decree of an adverse fate. To the mystery of death was left the clearing -of the mystery of life.</p> - -<p>It was Hiram Johnson who taught me what a smothering, ghastly thing -prison life in America may be. One of the guards had said to me, "Hiram -Johnson is a life man who has been here for years. No one ever comes to -see him, and I think a visit would do him lots of good." The man who -appeared in answer to the summons was a short, thick-set fellow of -thirty-five or more, with eyes reddened and disabled by marble-dust from -the shop in which he had worked for years. He smiled when I greeted him, -but had absolutely nothing to say. I found that visit hard work; the man -utterly unresponsive; answering in the fewest words my commonplace -inquiries as to his health, the shop he worked in, and how long he had -been there. Six months after I saw him again with exactly the same -experience. He had nothing to say and suggested nothing for me to say. I -knew only that he expected to see me when I came to the prison, and -after making his acquaintance I could never disappoint one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> those -desolate creatures whose one point of contact with the world was the -half-hour spent with me twice a year.</p> - -<p>When I had seen the man some half-dozen times, at the close of an -interview I said, in half-apology for my futile attempts to keep up -conversation: "I'm sorry that I haven't been more interesting to-day; I -wanted to give you something pleasant to think of."</p> - -<p>"It has meant a great deal to me," he answered. "You can't know what it -means to a man just to know that some one remembers he is alive. That -gives me something pleasant to think about when I get back to my cell."</p> - -<p>We had begun correspondence at the opening of our acquaintance, but -rarely was there a line in his earlier letters to which I could make -reply or comment. Mainly made up of quotations from the Old Testament, -scriptural imprecations upon enemies seemed to be his chief mental -resource. The man considered himself "religious," and had read very -little outside his Bible, which was little more intelligible to him than -the original Greek would have been; excepting where it dealt with -denunciations.</p> - -<p>In my replies to these letters I simply aimed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> give the prisoner -glimpses of something outside, sometimes incidents of our own family -life, and always the assurance that I counted him among my prison -friends, that "there was some one who remembered that he was alive." It -was five or six years before I succeeded in extracting the short story -of his life, knowing only that he had killed some one. The moral fibre -of a man, and the sequence of events which resulted in the commission of -a crime have always interested me more than the one criminal act. One -day, in an unusually communicative mood, Johnson told me that as a child -he had lost both parents, that he grew up in western Missouri without -even learning to read, serving as chore-boy and farm-hand until he was -sixteen, when he joined the Southern forces in 1863, drifting into the -guerilla warfare. It was not through conviction but merely by chance -that he was fighting for rather than against the South; it was merely -the best job that offered itself and the killing of men was only a -matter of business. Afterward he thought a good deal about this guerilla -warfare as it related itself to his own fate, and he said to me:</p> - -<p>"I was paid for killing men, for shooting on sight men who had never -done me any harm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> The more men I killed the better soldier they called -me. When the war was over I killed one more man. I had reason this time, -good reason. The man was my enemy and had threatened to kill me, and -that's why I shot him. But then they called me a murderer, and shut me -up for the rest of my life. I was just eighteen years old."</p> - -<p>Such was the brief story of Johnson's life; such the teaching of war. In -prison the man was taught to read; in chapel he was taught that prison -was not the worst fate for the murderer; that an avenging God had -prepared endless confinement in hell-fire for sinners like him unless -they repented and propitiated the wrath of the Ruler of the Universe. -And so, against the logic of his own mind, while religion apparently -justified war, he tried to discriminate between war and murder and to -repent of taking the one life which he really felt justified in taking; -he found a certain outlet for his warlike spirit or his elemental human -desire to fight, in arraying himself on God's side and against the -enemies of the Almighty. And no doubt he found a certain kind of -consolation in denouncing in scriptural language the enemies of the -Lord.</p> - -<p>But all this while in the depths of Johnson's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> nature something else was -working; a living heart was beating and the sluggish mind was seeking an -outlet. A gradual change took place in his letters; the handwriting grew -more legible, now and again gleams of the buried life broke through the -surface, revealing unexpected tenderness toward nature, the birds, and -the flowers. Genuine poetic feeling was expressed in his efforts to -respond to my friendship, as where he writes:</p> - -<p>"How happy would I be could I plant some thotte in the harte of my -friend that would give her pleasure for many a long day." And when -referring to some evidence of my remembrance of my prisoners, he said: -"We always love those littel for-gett-me-nottes that bloom in the harte -of our friends all the year round. Remember that we can love that which -is lovely."</p> - -<p>Dwelling on the loneliness of prison life and the value of even an -occasional letter, he writes: "The kind word cheares my lonely hours -with the feelings that some one thinks of me. <i>Human nature seems to -have been made that way.</i> There are many who would soon brake down and -die without this simpathy."</p> - -<p>Always was there the same incongruity between the spelling and a certain -dignity of diction, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> I attributed to his familiarity with the -Psalms. His affinity with the more denunciatory Psalms is still -occasionally evident, as when he closes one letter with these sentences: -"One more of my enemies is dead. The hande of God is over them all. May -he gather them all to that country where the climate is warm and the -worm dieth not!"</p> - -<p>To me this was but the echo of fragments of Old Testament teaching. At -last came one letter in which the prisoner voiced his fate in sentences -firm and clear as a piece of sculpture. This is the letter exactly as it -was written:</p> - - -<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Friend</span>:</p> - -<p>"I hope this may find you well. It has bin some time since I heard -from you and I feel that I should not trespass on you too offten. -You know that whether I write or not I shall in my thottes wander -to you and shall think I heare you saying some sweet chearing word -to incourage me, and it is such a pleasant thing, too. But you know -theas stripes are like bands of steel to keep one's mouth shut, and -the eye may not tell what the heart would say were the bondes -broken that keep the lippes shut. If one could hope and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>believe -that what the harte desired was true, then to think would be a -pleasure beyond anything else the world could give. But to be -contented here the soul in us must die. We must become stone -images.</p> - -<p class="right">"Yourse truly,<span class="s6"> </span><br /> -"<span class="smcap">Hiram Johnson</span>."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Not for himself alone did this man speak. "To be contented here the soul -in us must die." "We must become stone images." From the deepest depths -of his own experience it was given to this unlettered convict to say for -all time the final word as to the fate of the "life man," up to the -present day.</p> - -<p>After this single outburst, if anything so restrained can be called an -outburst, Hiram Johnson subsided into much of his former immobility. -Like all "life men" he had begun his term in prison with the feeling -that it <i>must</i> come to an end sometime. What little money he had was -given to a lawyer who drew up an application for shortening of the -sentence, the petition had been sent to the governor, and the papers, -duly filed, had long lain undisturbed in the governor's office. When I -first met Johnson he still cherished expectations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> that "something would -be done" in his case, but as years rolled by and nothing was done the -tides of hope ran low. Other men sentenced during the sixties received -pardons or commutations or had died, until at last "old Hiram Johnson" -arrived at the distinction of being the only man in that prison who had -served a fifty-year sentence.</p> - -<p>Now, a fifty-year sentence does not mean fifty years of actual time. In -different States the "good time" allowed a convict differs, this good -time meaning that by good behavior the length of imprisonment is -reduced. In the prison of which I am writing long sentences could be -shortened by nearly one-half: thus by twenty-nine years of good conduct -Johnson had served a legal sentence of fifty years. No other convict in -that prison had lived and kept his reason for twenty-nine years. Johnson -had become a figure familiar to every one in and about the place. Other -convicts came and went, but he remained; plodding along, never -complaining, never giving trouble, doing his full duty within its -circumscribed limits. Altogether he had a good record and the -authorities were friendly to him.</p> - -<p>Hitherto I had never asked executive clemency<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> except in cases where it -was clear that the sentence had been unjust; and I had been careful to -keep my own record high in this respect, knowing that if I had the -reputation of being ready to intercede for any one who touched my -sympathies, I should lower my standing with the governors. But it seemed -to me that Johnson, by more than half his lifetime of good conduct in -prison had established a claim upon mercy, and earned the right to be -given another chance in freedom.</p> - -<p>I found the governor in a favorable state of mind, as in one of his late -visits to the penitentiary Johnson had been pointed out to him as the -only man who had ever served a fifty-year sentence. After looking over -the petition for pardon then on file and ascertaining that Johnson had -relatives to whom he could go, the governor decided to grant his -release. But as an unlooked-for pardon was likely to prove too much of a -shock to the prisoner the sentence was commuted to a period which would -release him in six weeks, and to me was intrusted the breaking of the -news to Johnson and the papers giving him freedom. We knew that it was -necessary for Johnson to be given time to enable his mind to grasp the -fact<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> of coming release and to make very definite plans to be met at the -prison-gates by some one on whom he could depend, for the man of -forty-seven would find a different world from the one he left when a boy -of eighteen. It gives one a thrill to hold in one's hands the papers -that are to open the doors of liberty to a man imprisoned for life, and -it was with a glad heart that I took the next train for the -penitentiary.</p> - -<p>My interview with Johnson was undisturbed by any other presence, and he -greeted me with no premonition of the meaning of the roll of white paper -that I held. Very quietly our visit began; but when Johnson was quite at -his ease, I asked: "Has anything been done about your case since I saw -you last?" "Oh, no, nothing ever will be done for me! I've given up all -hope."</p> - -<p>"I had a talk with the governor about you yesterday, and he was willing -to help you. He gave me this paper which you and I will look over -together." I watched in vain for any look of interest in his face as I -said this.</p> - -<p>Slowly, aloud, I read the official words, Johnson's eyes following as I -read; but his realization of the meaning of the words came with -difficulty. When I had read the date of his release<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> we both paused; as -the light broke into his mind, he said:</p> - -<p>"Then in January I shall be free"; another pause, while he tried to -grasp just what this would mean to him; and then, "I shall be free. Now -I can work and earn money to send you to help other poor fellows." That -was his uppermost thought during the rest of the interview.</p> - -<p>In the evening the Catholic chaplain, Father Cyriac, of beloved memory, -came to me with the request that I have another interview with Johnson, -saying: "The man is so distressed because in his overwhelming surprise -he forgot to thank you to-day."</p> - -<p>"He thanked me better than he knew," I replied.</p> - -<p>But of course I saw Johnson again the next day; and in this, our last -interview, he made a final desperate effort to tell me what his prison -life had been. "Behind me were stone walls, on each side of me were -stone walls, nothing before me but stone walls. And then you came and -brought hope into my life, and now you have brought freedom, and <i>I -cannot find words to thank you</i>." And dropping his head on his folded -arms the man burst into tears, his whole body shaken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> with sobs. I hope -that I made him realize that there was no need of words, that when deep -calleth unto deep the heart understands in silence.</p> - -<p>Only yesterday, turning to my writing-desk in search of something else, -I chanced across a copy of the letter I wrote to the governor after my -interview with Johnson, and as it is still warm with the feelings of -that never-to-be-forgotten experience, I insert it here:</p> - -<p>"I cannot complete my Thanksgiving Day until I have given you the -message of thanks entrusted to me by Hiram Johnson. At first he could -not realize that the long years of prison life were actually to be -ended. It was too bewildering, like a flood of light breaking upon one -who has long been blind. And when he began to grasp the meaning of your -gift the first thing he said to me was, 'Now I can work and earn money -to send you for some other poor fellow.'</p> - -<p>"Not one thought of self, only of the value of liberty as a means, at -last, to do something for others. How <i>hard</i> he tried to find words to -express his gratitude. It made my heart ache for the long, long years of -repression that had made direct expression almost impossible; and in -that thankfulness, so far too deep for words, I read,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> too, the measure -of how terrible the imprisoned life had been. Thank heaven and a good -governor, it will soon be over! Hiram Johnson has a generous heart and -true, and he will be a good man. And it is beautiful to know that -spiritual life can grow and unfold even under the hardest conditions."</p> - -<p>What life meant to Johnson afterward I do not know; but I do know that -he found home and protection with relatives on a farm, and the letters -that he wrote me indicated that he took his place among them not as an -ex-convict so much as a man ready to work for his living and entitled to -respect. Being friendly he no doubt found friends; and though he was a -man near fifty, perhaps the long-buried spirit of youth came to life -again in the light of freedom. At all events, once more the blue skies -were above him and he drew again the blessed breath of liberty. Although -he never realized his dream of helping me to help others, I never -doubted the sincerity of his desire to do so.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> - -<p>Mr. William Ordway Partridge, in "Art for America," says to us: "Let us -learn to look upon every child face that comes before us as a possible -Shakespeare or Michael Angelo or Beethoven. The artistic world is -rejoicing over the discovery in Greece of some beautiful fragments of -sculpture hidden far beneath the <i>débris</i> of centuries; shall we not -rejoice more richly when we are able to dig down beneath the surface of -the commonest child that comes to us from our great cities, and discover -and develop that faculty in him which is to make him fit to live in -usefulness with his fellow men? Seeking for these qualities in the child -we shall best conserve, as is done in physical nature, the highest type, -until we have raised all human life to a higher level."</p> - -<p>I hope that some day Mr. Partridge will write a plea for elementary art -classes in our prisons. For in every prison there are gifted men and -boys whose special talents might be so trained and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>developed as to -change the channel of their lives. What chances our prisons have with -these wards of the state, to discover and develop the individual powers -that might make their owners self-respecting and self-supporting men!</p> - -<p>We are doing this in our institutions for the feeble-minded and with -interesting results, but in our prisons the genius of a Michael Angelo -might be stifled—the musical gift of a Chopin doomed to eternal -silence.</p> - -<p>Mr. Partridge's belief in the latent possibilities in our common -children went to my heart, because I had known Anton Zabrinski; and yet -I can never think of Anton Zabrinski as a common child.</p> - -<p>The story of his life is brief; but his few years enclosed the circle of -childhood, youth, aspiration, hope, horror, tragedy, pain, and death; -and all the beautiful possibilities of his outward life were blighted.</p> - -<p>Anton's home was in the west side of Chicago, in that region where -successive unpronounceable names above doors and across windows assure -one that Poland is not lost but scattered.</p> - -<p>In back rooms in the third story of the house lived the Zabrinski -family, the father and mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> with Anton and his sister two years -younger. The mother was terribly crippled from an accident in childhood, -and was practically a prisoner in her home. Anton, her only son, was the -idol of her heart.</p> - -<p>When scarcely more than a child Anton began work tailoring. He learned -rapidly, and when sixteen years old was so skilful a worker that he -earned twelve dollars a week. This energy and skill, accuracy of -perception and sureness of touch, gave evidence of a fine organization. -His was an elastic, joyous nature, but his growth was stunted, his whole -physique frail; sensitive and shy, he shrank with nervous timidity from -contact with the stronger, rougher, coarser-fibred boys of the -neighborhood. Naturally this served only to make Anton a more tempting -target for their jokes.</p> - -<p>Two of these boys in particular played upon his fears until they became -an actual terror in his existence; though the boys doubtless never -imagined the torture they were inflicting, nor dreamed that he really -believed they intended to injure him. It happened one evening that Anton -was going home alone from an entertainment, when these two boys suddenly -jumped out from some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> hiding-place and seized him, probably intending -only to frighten him. Frighten him they did, out of all bounds and -reason. In his frantic efforts to get away from them Anton opened his -pocket-knife and struck out blindly. But in this act of self-defence he -mortally wounded one of the boys.</p> - -<p>Anton Zabrinski did not go back to his mother that night; this gentle, -industrious boy, doing the work and earning the wages of a man, had -become, in the eye of the law, a murderer. I have written "in the eye of -the law"; a more accurate statement would be "in the eye of the court," -for under fair construction of the law this could only have been a case -of manslaughter; but——</p> - -<p>I once asked one of Chicago's most eminent judges why in clear cases of -manslaughter so many times men were charged with murder and tried for -murder. The judge replied: "Because it is customary in bringing an -indictment to make the largest possible net in which to catch the -criminal."</p> - -<p>Anton Zabrinski had struck out with his knife in the mere animal -instinct of self-defence. The real moving force of evil in the tragedy -was the love of cruel sport actuating the larger boys—a passion leading -to innumerable crimes. Were the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> moral origin of many of our crimes laid -bare we should clearly see that the final act of violence was but a -result—the rebound of an evil force set in motion from an opposite -direction. It sometimes happens that it is the slayer who is the victim -of the slain. But to the dead, who have passed beyond the need of our -mercy, we are always merciful.</p> - -<p>Had an able lawyer defended Anton he never would have been convicted on -the charge of murder; but the family was poor, and, having had no -experience with the courts, ignorantly expected fairness and justice. -Anton was advised to plead guilty to the charge of murder, and was given -to understand that if he did so the sentence would be light. Throwing -himself upon "the mercy of the court," the boy pleaded "guilty." He was -informed that "the mercy of the court" would inflict the sentence of -imprisonment for life. It chanced that in the court-room another judge -was present whose sense of justice, as well as of mercy, was outraged by -this severity. Moved with compassion for the undefended victim he -protested against the impending sentence and induced the presiding judge -to reduce it to thirty years. Thirty years! A lifetime indeed to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> -imagination of a boy of seventeen. The crippled mother, with her heart -torn asunder, was left in the little back room where she lived, while -Anton was taken to Joliet penitentiary.</p> - -<p>It did not seem so dreadful when first it came in sight—that great -gray-stone building, with its broad, hospitable entrance through the -warden house; but when the grated doors closed behind him with -relentless metallic clang, in that sound Anton realized the death-knell -of freedom and happiness. And later when, for the first night, the boy -found himself alone in a silent, "solitary"<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> cell, then came the -agonizing homesickness of a loving young heart torn from every natural -tie. Actually but two hours distant was home, the little back room -transfigured to a heaven through love and the yearning cry of his heart; -but the actual two hours had become thirty years of prison in the -future. The prison life itself was but a dumb, unshapen dread in his -imagination. And the unmeaning mystery and cruelty and horror of his -fate! Why, his whole life covered but seventeen years, of which memory -could recall not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> more than twelve; he knew they were years of -innocence, and then years of faithful work and honest aims until that -one night of horror, when frightened out of his senses he struck wildly -for dear life. And then he had become that awful thing, a murderer, and -yet without one thought of murder in his heart. If God knew or cared, -how could he have let it all happen? And now he must repent or he never -could be forgiven. And yet how could he repent, when he had meant to do -no wrong; when his own quivering agony was surging through heart and -mind and soul; when he was overwhelmed with the black irrevocableness of -it all, and the sense of the dark, untrodden future? One night like -that, it holds the sufferings of an ordinary lifetime.</p> - -<p>We who have reached our meridian know that life means trial and -disappointment, but to youth the bubble glows with prismatic color; and -to Anton it had all been blotted into blackness through one moment of -deadly fear.</p> - -<p>When young convicts are received at Joliet penitentiary it is customary -for the warden to give them some chance for life and for development -physically and mentally. They are usually given light work, either as -runners for the shops<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> or helpers in the kitchens or dining-rooms, where -they have exercise, fresh air, and some variety in employment. Anton -came to the prison when there was a temporary change of wardens, and it -happened when he was taken from the "solitary" cell where he passed the -first night that he was put to work in the marble-shop, a hard place for -a full-grown man. He was given also a companion in his cell when -working-hours were over.</p> - -<p>As he became fully adjusted to prison life he learned a curious thing: -on the outside crime had been the exception, a criminal was looked upon -as one apart from the community; but in this strange, unnatural prison -world it was crime which formed the common basis of equality, the tie of -brotherhood.</p> - -<p>And again, the tragedy of his own fate, which had seemed to him to fill -the universe, lost its horrible immensity in his imagination as he came -to realize that every man wearing that convict suit bore in his heart -the wound or the scar of tragedy or of wrong inflicted or experienced. -He had believed that nothing could be so terrible as to be separated -from home and loved ones; but learned to wonder if it were not more -terrible never to have known loved ones or home.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>When his cell-mate estimated the "good time" allowance on a sentence of -thirty years, Anton found that by good behavior he could reduce this -sentence to seventeen years. That really meant something to live for. He -thought he should be almost an old man if he lived to be -thirty-three—something like poor old Peter Zowar who had been in prison -twenty-five years; but no prisoner had ever lived there thirty years; -and this reduction to seventeen years meant to Anton the difference -between life and death. Even the seventeen years' distance from home -began to be bridged when his sister Nina came to see him, bringing him -the oranges and bananas indelibly associated with the streets of -Chicago, or cakes made by his own mother's hands and baked in the oven -at home.</p> - -<p>Life in prison became more endurable, too, when he learned that -individual skill in every department of work was recognized, and that -sincerity and faithfulness counted for something even in a community of -criminals. Praise was rare, communication in words was limited to the -necessities of work; but in some indefinable way character was -recognized and a friendly attitude made itself felt and warmed the -heart; and the nature so sensitive to harshness was quick to perceive -and to respond to kindness.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>It is hard to be in prison when a boy, but the older convicts regard -these boys with compassion, touched by something in them akin to their -own lost youth, or perhaps to children of their own. Little Anton looked -no older and was no larger than the average boy of fourteen; and to the -older men he seemed a child.</p> - -<p>Human nature is human nature, and youth is youth in spite of bolts and -bars. The springtime of life was repressed in Anton, but it was working -silently within him, and silently there was unfolding a power not given -to all of us. His work in the marble-shop was readily learned, for the -apprenticeship at tailoring had trained his eye and hand, and steadfast -application had become habitual. As his ability was recognized -ornamental work on marble was assigned him. At first he followed the -patterns as did the ordinary workmen; these designs suggested to him -others; then he obtained permission to work out the beautiful lines that -seemed always waiting to form themselves under his hand, and the -patterns were finally set aside altogether. The art impulse within him -was astir and finding expression, and as time passed he was frankly -recognized as the best workman in the shop.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>He was homesick still, always homesick, but fresh interest had come -into his existence, for unawares the spirit of beauty had come to be the -companion of his working-hours. He did not recognize her. He had never -heard of art impulses. But he found solid human pleasure and took simple -boyish pride in the individuality and excellence of his work.</p> - -<p>The first year and the second year of his imprisonment passed: the days -dawning, darkening, and melting away, as like to one another as beads -upon a string, each one counted into the past at night as meaning one -day less of imprisonment. But toward the end of the second year the -hours began to drag interminably, and Anton's interest in his work -flagged. He became restless, the marble dust irritated his lungs, and a -cough, at first unnoticed, increased until it constantly annoyed him. -Then his rest at night was broken by pain in his side, and at last the -doctor ordered him to be removed from the marble-shop. It was a frail -body at best, and the confinement, the unremitting work, the total lack -of air and exercise had done their worst; and all resisting physical -power was undermined.</p> - -<p>No longer able to work, Anton was relegated to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> the "idle room." Under -the wise rule of recent wardens the idle room has happily become a thing -of the past, but for years it was a feature of the institution, owing -partly to limited hospital accommodations. By the prisoners generally -this idle room, called by them the "dreary room," was looked upon as the -half-way station between the shops and the grave. Most cheerless and -melancholy was this place where men too far gone in disease to work, men -worn out in body and broken in spirit, waited together day after day -until their maladies developed sufficiently for them to be considered -fit subjects for hospital care. Usually no reading-matter was allowed, -and free social intercourse was of course forbidden, although the -inmates occasionally indulged in the luxury of comparing diseases. Under -the strain of that deadening monotony courage failed, and to many a man -indifferent to his own fate the sight of the hopelessness of others was -heart-breaking. The influence of the idle room was not quite so -depressing when Anton came within its circle, for a light industry had -just been introduced there, and some of the inmates were employed.</p> - -<p>And at this time Anton was beginning to live in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> a day-dream. His -cell-mate, a young man serving a twenty years' sentence, was confidently -expecting a pardon; pardons became the constant theme of talk between -the two when the day was over, and Anton's faith in his own possible -release kindled and glowed with the brightening prospects of his friend. -Hope, that strange characteristic of tuberculosis, flamed the higher as -disease progressed; with the hectic flush there came into his eyes a -more brilliant light, and a stronger power to look beyond the prison to -dear liberty and home. Even the shadow of the idle room could not dim -the light of his imagination. No longer able to carve his fancies on -stone, he wove them into beautiful patterns for life in freedom. The -hope of a pardon is in the air in every prison. Anton wrote to his -family and talked with his sister about it, and though he made no -definite beginning every day his faith grew stronger.</p> - -<p>It was at this time that I met Anton. I was visiting at the -penitentiary, and during a conversation with a young English convict, a -semi-protégé of Mary Anderson, the actress, this young man said to me: -"I wish you knew my cell-mate." I replied that I already knew too many -men in that prison. "But if you would only see little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> Anton I know <i>you -would be mashed in a minute</i>," the Englishman confidently asserted. As -to that probability I was sceptical, but I was impressed by the -earnestness of the young man as he sketched the outline of Anton's story -and urged me to see him. I remember that he made a point of this: "The -boy is so happy thinking that he will get a pardon sometime, but he will -die here if somebody doesn't help him soon." To gratify the Englishman I -consented to see the happy boy who was in danger of dying.</p> - -<p>An attractive or interesting face is rare among the inmates of our -prisons. The striped convict suit, which our so-called Christian -civilization so long inflicted upon fellow men, in itself gave an air of -degradation,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> and the repression of all animation tends to produce an -expression of almost uniform dulness. Notwithstanding his cell-mate's -enthusiasm I was thrilled with surprise, and something deeper than -surprise, when I saw Anton Zabrinski. The beauty of that young Polish -prisoner shone like a star above the degrading convict suit. It was the -face of a Raphael, with the broad brow and the large, luminous, -far-apart eyes of darkest blue, suggesting in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> depths all the -beautiful repressed possibilities—eyes radiant with hope and with -childlike innocence and trust. My heart was instantly vibrant with -sympathy, and we were friends with the first hand-clasp. The artistic -temperament was as evident in the slender, highly developed hands as in -his face.</p> - -<p>At a glance I saw that his fate was sealed; but his spirit of hope was -irresistible and carried me on in its own current for the hour. Anton -was like a happy child, frankly and joyfully opening his heart to a -friend whom he seemed always to have known. That bright hour was -unclouded by any dark forebodings in regard to illness or an obdurate -governor. We talked of pardon and freedom and home and happiness. I did -not speak to him of repentance or preparation for death. I felt that -when the summons came to that guileless spirit it could only be a -summons to a fuller life.</p> - -<p>During our interview the son of the new warden came in, and I called his -attention to Anton. It was charming to see the cordial, friendly fashion -in which this young man<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> talked to the prisoner,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> asking where he -could be found and promising to do what he could for him, while Anton -felt that at last he was touching the hand of Providence. The new -authorities had not been there long enough to know many of the convicts -individually, but at dinner that day the warden's son interested his -father in Anton by recounting their conversation that morning. The -warden's always ready sympathy was touched. "Take the boy out of that -idle room," he said, "take him around the yard with you to see the dogs -and horses." This may not have been discipline, but it was delightfully -human—and humanizing.</p> - -<p>When I left the prison I was assured that I could depend upon the -warden's influence in furthering my purpose of realizing Anton's dream, -his faith and hope of pardon. The following Sunday in Chicago I found -the Zabrinski family, father, mother, and the young sister, in their -third-story back rooms. On the wall hung a framed photograph of Anton as -a little child. The mother did not speak very clear English, but she -managed to repeat, over and over again: "Anton was so good; always he -was such a good boy." The young sister, a tailoress, very trim in her -dark-blue Sunday gown, discussed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>intelligently ways and means of -obtaining her brother's release.</p> - -<p>Our plans worked smoothly, and a few weeks later, when all Chicago was -given over to the World's Fair, the desire of Anton's heart came true -and he was restored to home and freedom. Or, as the newspapers would -have put it: "Our anarchist governor let loose another murderer to prey -upon society." Poor little murderer! In all that great city there was no -child more helpless or harmless than he.</p> - -<p>The image of little Anton Zabrinski, as of the prison itself, grew faint -in my heart for the time, under the spell of the long enchanting summer -days and magical evenings at the White City.</p> - -<p>The interest and the beauty of that fusion of all times and all -countries was so absorbing and irresistible that I had stayed on and on -until one day in July when I braced myself for the wrench of departure -next morning. But the evening mail brought me letters from home and -among them one forwarded from Anton, entreating me to come and see him. -I had not counted on being remembered by Anton except as a milestone on -his path toward freedom—I might have counted on it, however, after my -many <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>experiences of the gratitude of prisoners—but his longing to see -me was unmistakable; and as I had broken my word so many times about -going home that my reputation for unreliability in that direction could -not be lowered, I sent a final telegram of delay.—Oh, luxury of having -no character to lose!</p> - -<p>The next morning I took an early start for the home of the Zabrinskis. -In a little back yard—a mere patch of bare ground without the -possibility of a blade of grass, with no chance of even looking at the -sky unless one lay on one's back, with uniform surroundings of back -doors and back stairs—what a contrast to that dream of beauty at -Jackson Park!—here it was that I found Anton, listlessly sitting on a -bench with a little dog as companion. All hope and animation seemed to -have died out within him; even the lights in his deep-blue eyes had -given way to shadows; strength and courage had ebbed away, and he had -yielded at last to weariness and depression. He had left the prison, -indeed, but only to face death; he had come back to his home, only to be -carried away from it forever. Even his mother's loving care could not -stop that racking cough nor free him from pain. And how limited the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> -longed-for freedom proved! It had reached out from his home only to the -hospital dispensary. Weakness and poverty formed impassable barriers -beyond which he could not go.</p> - -<p>As I realized all this I resolved to give him the most lovely vision in -the world to think of and to dream of. "Anton," I said, "how would you -like to take a steamer and go on the lake with me to see the World's -Fair from the water?"—for him to attempt going on the grounds was not -to be thought of.</p> - -<p>For a moment he shrank from the effort of getting to the steamer, but -after considering it for a while in silence he announced: "When I make -up my mind that I will do a thing, I do it; I will go with you." Then we -unfolded our plan for adventure to the mother. Rather wild she thought -it, but our persuasive eloquence won the day and she consented, -insisting only that we should partake of refreshments before starting on -our expedition. With the connivance of a neighbor on the next floor Mrs. -Zabrinski obtained a delicious green-apple pie from a bakery near by and -served it for our delectation.</p> - -<p>I find that already the noble lines, with their beautiful lights and -shadows, in the Court of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> Honor of the White City are blending into an -indistinct memory; but the picture of Anton Zabrinski as he leaned back -in his chair on the steamer, breathing the delicious pure, fresh air, -sweeping his glance across the boundless plain of undulating blue, will -be with me forever. Here at last was freedom! And how eagerly the boy's -perishing being drank it in!</p> - -<p>There was everything going on around us to divert and amuse: crowds of -people, of course, and a noisy band of musicians; but it all made no -impression upon Anton. We two were practically alone with the infinite -sky and the far-stretching water. It was easy then for Anton to tell me -of his deeper thoughts, and to speak of the change that he knew was -coming soon. Life had been so hard, only fruitless effort and a losing -battle, and now he longed only for rest. He had felt the desire to give -expression to beautiful form, he had felt the stirring of undeveloped -creative power. We spoke of the future not as death but as the coming of -new life and as the opportunity for the fair unfolding of all the higher -possibilities of his nature—as freedom from all fetters. His faith, -simple but serious, rested upon his consciousness of having, in his -inmost soul, loved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> and sought the good. His outward life was hopelessly -wrecked; but he was going away from that, and it was his soul, his true -inner life, that would appear before God. It was all a mystery and he -was helpless, but he was not afraid. <i>He had forgiven life.</i></p> - -<p>As we talked together the steamer neared the pier at Jackson Park. "And -now, Anton, you must go to the other side of the boat and see the -beautiful White City," I said. It was like alabaster in its clear -loveliness that radiant morning, and all alive with the lilting colors -of innumerable flags. It was Swedish day, and a most gorgeous procession -in national costume thronged the dock as our steamer approached, for we -had on board some important delegation. A dozen bands were playing and -the grand crash of sound and the brilliant massing of color thrilled me -to my fingertips. But Anton only looked at it for a moment with unseeing -eyes: it was too limited; it was the stir and sound and crowd of the -city. He turned again eagerly to the great sweep of sky and water; "You -don't know what this lake and this fresh air are to me," he said -quietly, and he looked no more toward the land until we had returned to -Van Buren Street.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>After we left the steamer Anton threw off the spell of the water. He -insisted on my taking a glass of soda with him from one of the fountains -on the dock; it was his turn to be entertainer now. I drank the soda and -live to tell the tale. By that time we had caught the bohemian spirit of -the World's Fair, Anton was revived and excited by the hour on the -water, and as we crossed over to Michigan Avenue the brilliant life of -the street attracted and charmed him, and I proposed walking slowly down -to the Auditorium Hotel. Every step of the way was a delight to Anton, -and when we reached the great hotel I waited in the ladies' -reception-room while Anton strolled through the entrances and office, -looking at the richly blended tones of the marbles and the decoration in -white and gold. I knew that it would be one more fresh and lovely memory -for him to carry back to the little rooms where the brief remnant of his -life was to be spent.</p> - -<p>At an adjoining flower-stand we found sweet peas for his mother. I saw -him safely on board the car that would take him to his home; then, with -a parting wave of his hand and a bright, happy smile of farewell, little -Anton Zabrinski passed out of my sight.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p>Through the kindness of a friend I had the very great happiness of -sending Anton a pass, "For bearer and one," that gave him, with an -escort, the freedom of the World's Fair steamers for the summer—the -greatest possible boon to the boy, for even when too weak to go to the -steamer he could still cherish the expectation of that delight.</p> - -<p>Anton's strength failed rapidly. He wrote me one letter saying: "I can -die happy now that I am with my mother. I thank you a thousand times -over and over for your kind feeling towards me and the kind words in -your letters, and the charming rose you sent. I cannot write a long -letter on account of my pains through my whole chest. I can't turn -during the night from one side to another. Dear Friend, I don't like to -tell my misery and sorrows to persons, but I can't help telling you."</p> - -<p>Another letter soon followed, but not from Anton. It was the sister who -wrote:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>:</p> - -<p>"With deep sorrow I inform you of my dear brother's death. He died -at four o'clock in the morning. He had a great desire to see you -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>before he died. We should be glad to see you at the funeral if -convenient Wednesday morning.</p> - -<p class="right">"Pardon this poor letter<span class="s6"> </span><br /> -"from your loving friend<span class="s3"> </span><br /> -"<span class="smcap">Miss Nina Zabrinski</span>."</p></blockquote> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> These "solitary" cells in which a prisoner passed his first -night were in a detached building in which the punishment cells were -located. The solitude was absolute and terrible.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The striped convict suit was practically abolished at -Joliet the following year.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> This young man, Edmund M. Allen, is now warden of this -same prison, and has so developed the humanizing methods of his father -as to bring Joliet penitentiary into the front rank of progressive -prison reform.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> - -<p>On a lovely evening some thirty years ago there was a jolly wedding at -the home of a young Irish girl in a Western city. Tom Evans, the groom, -a big-hearted, jovial fellow, was deeply in love with the girl of his -choice. He was earning good wages and he intended to take good care of -his wife.</p> - -<p>It was midnight, and the streets were flooded with brilliant moonlight -when Evans started to take his bride from her home to his, accompanied -on the way by Jim Maguire, Larry Flannigan, and Ned Foster, three of the -wedding guests. They were not carriage folks and were walking to the -street-car when Jim Maguire, who had not been averse to the exhilarating -liquids in hospitable circulation at the wedding feast, became unduly -hilarious and disported himself with song and dance along the -sidewalk—a diversion in which the others took no part. This hilarity -was summarily interrupted by a policeman, who attempted to arrest the -young man for disorderly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> conduct, a proceeding vigorously resisted by -Maguire.</p> - -<p>This was the beginning of an affray in which the policeman was killed, -and the whole party were arrested and taken into custody. As the -policeman was well known, one of the most popular men on the force, -naturally public indignation ran high and the feeling against his -slayers was bitter and violent.</p> - -<p>Tom Evans and Jim Maguire were held for murder, while Larry Flannigan, a -boy of seventeen, and Ned Foster, as participants in the affair, were -charged with manslaughter. The men were given fair trials—separate -trials, I believe—in different courts, but it was impossible to get at -the facts of the case, as there were no actual witnesses outside of -those directly affected by the outcome; while each lawyer for the -defence did his best to clear his own client from direct responsibility -for the death of the policeman, regardless of the deserts of the others -under accusation.</p> - -<p>And so it came to pass that Jim Maguire and Tom Evans were "sent up" for -life, while the bride of an hour returned to her father's house and in -the course of time became the bride of another. Larry Flannigan was -sentenced to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> fourteen years' imprisonment. Ned Foster, having served a -shorter sentence, was released previous to my acquaintance with the -others.</p> - -<p>Some five years later one of the prison officers interested in Jim -Maguire asked me to interview the man. Maguire was a tall, muscular -fellow, restive under confinement as a hound in leash; nervous, too, and -with abounding vitality ready at a moment's notice again to break out in -song and dance if only the chance were given. This very overcharge of -high animal spirits, excited by the wedding festivities, was the -starting-point of all the tragedy. No doubt, too, in his make-up there -were corresponding elements of recklessness and defiance.</p> - -<p>Our first interview was the beginning of an acquaintance resulting in an -interchange of letters; but it was not until a year afterward that in a -long conversation Maguire gave me an account of his part in the midnight -street encounter. Admitting disorderly conduct and resistance against -the officer, he claimed that it was resistance only and not a counter -attack; stating that the struggle between the two continued until the -officer had the upper hand and then continued beating him into -subjection so vigorously that Maguire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> called for help and was rescued -from the hands of the officer by "one of the other boys." He did not say -which one nor further implicate any one.</p> - -<p>"Ask the other boys," he said. "Larry didn't have anything to do with -the killing, but he saw the whole thing. Get Larry to tell the story," -he urged.</p> - -<p>And so I was introduced to Larry. He was altogether of another type from -Maguire. I hardly knew whether he wore the convict stripes or broadcloth -when I was looking into that face, so sunny, so kindly, so frank. After -all these years I can never think of Larry without a glow in my heart. -He alone, of all my prisoners, appeared to have no consciousness of -degradation, of being a convict; but met me simply and naturally as if -we had been introduced at a picnic.</p> - -<p>I told him of my interview with Jim Maguire and his immediate comment -was: "Jim ought not to be here; he resisted arrest but he did not kill -the officer; he's here for life and it's wrong, it's terrible. I hope -you will do something for Jim."</p> - -<p>"But what of yourself?" I asked; "you seem to have been outside of the -affair altogether. I think I'd better do something for you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no!" he protested, "you can get one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> man out easier than two. I -want to see Jim out, and I don't want to stand in his way. You know I am -innocent, and all my friends believe me innocent, and I'm young and well -and can stand my sentence; it will be less than ten years with good time -off. My record is perfect and I shall get along all right. But Jim is -here for life."</p> - -<p>I felt as if I were dreaming. I knew it would be a simple matter to -obtain release for Larry, who had already been there six years, but no, -the boy would not consider that, would not even discuss it. His thought -was all for Jim, and he was unconscious of self-sacrifice. He simply set -aside what seemed to him the lesser good in order to secure the greater.</p> - -<p>"Did you ever make a full statement in court?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"No. We were only allowed to answer direct questions in the -examinations. None of us were given a chance to tell the straight -story."</p> - -<p>"So the straight story never came out at any of the trials?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>Thinking it high time that the facts of a case in which two men were -suffering imprisonment for life should be ascertained and put on record -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>somewhere, it then remained for me to interview Evans, and to see how -nearly the statements of the three men agreed, each given to me in -private six years after the occurrence of the event.</p> - -<p>Tom Evans—I see him now clearly as if it were but yesterday—a -thick-set, burly figure with an intelligent face of good lines and -strong character; a man of force who from his beginning as brakesman -might have worked his way up to superintending a railroad, had the plan -of his destiny been different.</p> - -<p>I told him frankly that I had asked to see him in the interest of the -other two, and that what I wanted first of all was to get the facts of -the case, for the tragedy was still a "case" to me.</p> - -<p>"And you want me to tell the story?" I felt the vibration of restrained -emotion in the man from the first as he pictured the drama enacted in -that midnight moonlight.</p> - -<p>"I had just been married and we were going to my home. The streets were -light as day. Jim was singing and dancing, when the policeman seized -him. I saw there was going to be a fight and I made up my mind to keep -out of it; for when I let my temper go it gets away with me. So I stood -back with my girl. Jim called for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> help but I stood back till I really -believed Jim might be killed. I couldn't stand by and see a friend -beaten to death, or take any chance of that. And so I broke into the -fight. I got hold of the policeman's club and began to beat the -policeman. I am a strong man and I can strike a powerful blow."</p> - -<p>Here Evans paused, and there was silence between us until he said with a -change of tone and expression:</p> - -<p>"It was Larry who came to the help of the policeman and got the club -away from me. It's Larry that ought to be out. Jim made the trouble and -I killed the policeman, but Larry is wholly innocent. He is the one I -want to see out."</p> - -<p>At last we were down to bed-rock; there was no doubt now of the facts -which the clumsy machinery of the courts had failed to reach.</p> - -<p>I assured Evans that I would gladly do what I could for Larry, and then -and there Evans and I joined hands to help "the other boys." I realized -something of the sacrifice involved when I asked Evans if he was willing -to make a sworn statement in the presence of the warden of the facts he -had given me. What a touchstone of the man's nature! But he was -following the lead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> of truth and justice and there was no turning back.</p> - -<p>We all felt that it was a serious transaction in the warden's office -next day when Evans came in and, after a little quiet conversation with -the warden, made and signed a statement to the effect that he, and he -only, struck the blows that killed the policeman, and with hand on the -Bible made oath to the truth of the statement, which was then signed, as -witnesses, by the warden and a notary.</p> - -<p>As Evans left the office the warden said to me: "Something ought to be -done for that man also when the other boys are out."</p> - -<p>I knew that in securing this confession I had committed myself to all -the necessary steps involved before the prison doors could be opened to -Maguire and Larry. And in my heart I was already pledged to befriend the -man who, with unflinching courage, had imperilled his own chances of -liberation in favor of the others; for I was now beginning to regard -Evans as the central figure in the tragedy.</p> - -<p>It is no brief nor simple matter to obtain the release of a man -convicted of murder by the court and sentenced to life imprisonment -unless one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> has political influence strong enough to override all -obstacles. Almost endless are the delays likely to occur and the details -to be worked out before one has in hand all the threads necessary to be -woven into the fabric of a petition for executive clemency.</p> - -<p>In order to come directly in touch with the families of Larry and -Maguire, and with the competent lawyer already enlisted in their service -and now in possession of the statement of Evans, I went to the city -where the crime was committed. The very saddest face that I had seen in -connection with this affair was the face of Maguire's widowed mother. -She was such a little woman, with spirit too crushed and broken by -poverty and the fate of her son to revive even at the hope of his -release. It was only the ghost of a smile with which she greeted me; but -when we parted her gratitude called down the blessings of all the saints -in the calendar to follow me all my days.</p> - -<p>Larry's people I found much the same sort as he, cheerful, generous, -bravely meeting their share of the hard luck that had befallen him, -apparently cherishing the treasure of his innocence more than resenting -the injustice, but most grateful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> for any assistance toward his -liberation. The lawyer who had interviewed Larry and Maguire at the -penitentiary expressed amazement at what he called "the unbelievable -unselfishness" of Larry. "I did not suppose it possible to find that -spirit anywhere, last of all in a prison," he said. Larry had consented -to be included on the petition drawn up for Maguire only when convinced -that it would not impair Maguire's chances.</p> - -<p>When I left the place the lines appeared to be well laid for the smooth -running of our plans. I do not now remember what prevented the -presentation of the petition for commutation of both sentences to -twelve<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> years; but more than a year passed before the opportune time -seemed to be at hand.</p> - -<p>During this interval Evans was by no means living always in -disinterested plans for the benefit of the others. The burden of his own -fate hung heavily over him and no one in the prison was more athirst for -freedom than he. In books from the prison library he found some -diversion, and when tired of fiction he turned to philosophy, seeking to -apply its reasoning to his own hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> lot; again, he sought in the poets -some expression and interpretation of his own feelings. It was in the -ever welcome letters that he found most actual pleasure, but he -encountered difficulties in writing replies satisfactory to himself. In -a letter now before me he says:</p> - -<p>"I only wish that I could write as I feel, then indeed would you receive -a gem; but I can't, more's the pity. But I can peruse and cherish your -letters, and if I dare I would ask you to write oftener. Just think, the -idea strikes me that I am writing to an <i>authorous</i>, me that never could -spell a little bit. But the authorous is my friend, is she not, and will -overlook this my defect. I have done the best I could to write a nice -letter and I hope it will please you, but, in the words of Byron,</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div class="i10">"'What is writ is writ:</div> -<div>Would it were worthier. But I am not now</div> -<div>That which I have been, and my visions flit</div> -<div>Less palpably before me, and the glow</div> -<div>Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering faint and low.'</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>"With the last line of your letter I close, 'write soon, will you not?'"</p> - -<p>Evans's letters to me were infrequent, as he kept in correspondence with -his lawyers, who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>encouraged him to hope that he would not spend all his -life behind the bars. Others, too, claimed his letters. He writes me:</p> - -<p>"I have a poor old mother who expects and always gets my Christmas -letters, but I resolved that you should have my first New Years letter, -so here it is, wishing you a happy new year and many of them. No doubt -you had many Christmas letters from here telling you of the time we had, -and a <i>jolly good time</i> it was. It is awfully dark here in the cells to -day and I can hardly see the lines to write on. I hope you won't have as -much trouble in reading it." The handwriting in Evans's letters is -vigorous, clear, and open; a straightforward, manly hand, without frills -or flourishes.</p> - -<p>Just as I was leaving home for one of my semi-annual visits to the -penitentiary, I had information from their lawyer that the petition for -Maguire and Larry would be presented to the governor the following -month. Very much elated with the good news I was bringing I asked first -for an interview with Evans. He came in, evidently in very good spirits, -but as I proceeded to relate with enthusiasm what we had accomplished I -felt an increasing lack of response on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> the part of Evans and saw the -light fading from his face.</p> - -<p>"O Miss Taylor," he said at last, with such a note of pain in his voice, -"you know my lawyers have been working for me all this time. Of course I -told them of the statement I made in the warden's office, and then left -the case in their hands. One of them was here yesterday and has a -petition now ready asking that my sentence be reduced to fifteen years. -Now if the other petition goes in first——"</p> - -<p>There was no need to finish the sentence for the conflict of interests -was clear; and Evans was visibly unnerved. We talked together for a long -time. While unwilling to influence his decision I realized that, if his -petition should have first consideration and be granted, the value of -that confession, so important to the others, would be impaired, and the -chances of Maguire's release lessened; for the governors are wary in -accepting as evidence the confession of a man who has nothing to lose. -On the other hand, I had not the heart to quench the hopes that Evans's -lawyers had kindled. And in answer to his question, "What shall I do?" I -could only say: "That is for you to decide."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>At last Evans pulled himself together enough to say: "Well, I'm not -going back on the boys now. I didn't realize just how my lawyers' -efforts were going to affect them. I'm going to leave the matter in your -hands, for I know you will do what is right." And this he insisted on.</p> - -<p>"Whatever course may seem best to take now, Tom, after this I shall -never rest till I see you, too, out of prison," was my earnest -assurance.</p> - -<p>There had been such a spirit of fair play among these men that I next -laid the case before Maguire and Larry, and we three held a consultation -as to the best line of action. They, too, appreciated the generosity of -Evans and realized, far more than I could, what it might cost him. -Doubtless each one of the three felt the strong pull of self-interest; -but there was no faltering in their unanimous choice of a square deal -all around. One thing was clear, the necessity of bringing about an -understanding and concerted action between the lawyers whose present -intentions so seriously conflicted. The advice and moral support of the -warden had been invaluable to me, and he and I both felt, if the lawyers -could be induced to meet at the prison and consult not only with each -other but with their three clients,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> if they could only come in direct -touch with these convicts and realize that they were men who wanted to -do the right thing and the fair thing, that a petition could be drawn -placing Evans and Maguire on the same footing, and asking the same -reduction of sentence for both; while Larry in justice was entitled to a -full pardon. I still believe that if this course had been taken both -petitions would have been granted. But lawyers in general seem to have a -constitutional aversion to short cuts and simple measures, and Evans's -lawyers made no response to any overtures toward co-operation.</p> - -<p>At about this time occurred a change in the State administration, with -the consequent inevitable delay in the consideration of petitions for -executive clemency; as it was considered impolitic for the newly elected -governor to begin his career by hasty interference with the decision of -the courts, or too lenient an attitude toward convicts.</p> - -<p>Then ensued that period of suspense which seems fairly to corrode the -heart and nerves of the long-time convict. The spirit alternates between -the fever of hope and the chill of despair. Men pray then who never -prayed before. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> days drag as they never dragged before; and when -evening comes the mind cannot occupy itself with books while across the -printed page the same questions are ever writing themselves: "Shall I -hear to-morrow?" "Will the governor grant or refuse my petition?" One -closes the book only to enter the restless and wearisome night, -breathing the dead air of the prison cell, listening to the tread of the -guard in the corridor. Small wonder would it be if in those midnight -hours Evans cursed the day in which he declared that he alone killed the -policeman; but neither in his letters to me nor in his conversation was -there ever an indication of regret for that action. The Catholic -chaplain of the prison was truly a good shepherd and comforter to his -flock, and it was real spiritual help and support that he gave to the -men. His advice at the confessional may have been the seed from which -sprung Evans's resolve to clear his own conscience and exonerate the -others when the opportunity came.</p> - -<p>Maguire never fluctuated in his confidence that freedom was on the way, -but he was consumed with impatience; Larry alone, who never sought -release, bided his time in serene cheerfulness.</p> - -<p>And the powers that be accepted Larry's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>sacrifice; for so long was the -delay in the governor's office that Maguire was released on the day on -which Larry's sentence expired. The world looked very bright to Jim -Maguire and Larry Flannigan as they passed out of the prison doors into -liberty together. Maguire took up life again in his old environment, not -very successfully, I have reason to think. But Larry made a fresh start -in a distant city, unhampered by the fact that he was an ex-convict.</p> - -<p>It was then that the deadly blight of prison life began to throw its -pall over Evans, and the long nervous strain to undermine his health. He -wrote me:</p> - -<p>"I am still working at the old job, and I can say with truth that my -antipathy to it increases each day. I am sick and tired of writing to -lawyers for the last two years, and it amounted to nothing. I will -gladly turn the case over to you if you can do anything with it."</p> - -<p>The event proved that these lawyers were interested in their case, but -politically they were in opposition to the governor and had no -influence; nor did I succeed better in making the matter crystallize.</p> - -<p>I had always found Evans animated and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>interested in whatever we were -talking about until one interview when he had been in prison about -thirteen years, all that time on prison contract work. The change in his -appearance was evident when he came into the room. He seated himself -listlessly, and my heart sank, for too well I knew that dull apathy to -which the long-time men succumb. Now, knowing with what glad -anticipation he had formerly looked forward to our interviews, I was -determined that the hour should not pass without leaving some pleasant -memory; but it was twenty minutes or more before the cloud in his eyes -lifted and the smile with which he had always greeted me appeared. His -whole manner changed as he said: "Why, Miss Taylor, I am just waking up, -beginning to realize that you are here. My mind is getting so dull that -nothing seems to make any impression any more." He was all animation for -the rest of the time, eagerly drinking in the joy of sympathetic -companionship.—What greater joy does life give?</p> - -<p>But I had taken the alarm, for clearly the man was breaking down, and I -urged the warden to give him a change of work. The warden said he had -tried to arrange that; but Evans was on contract work, one of the best -men in the shop, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> the contractors were unwilling to give up so -profitable a workman—the evils of the contract system have much to -answer for. So Evans continued to work on the contract, and the prison -blight progressed and the man's vitality was steadily drained. When the -next winter came and <i>la grippe</i> invaded the prison, the resisting power -of Evans was sapped; and when attacked by the disease he was relegated -to the prison hospital to recuperate. He did not recuperate; on the -contrary, various symptoms of general physical deterioration appeared -and it was evident that his working days on the prison contract were -over.</p> - -<p>A renewed attempt was now made to procure the release of Evans, as his -broken health furnished a reason for urgency toward immediate action on -the part of the governor, and this last attempt was successful. The good -news was sent to Evans that in a month he would be a free man, and I was -at the prison soon after the petition was granted. I knew that Evans was -in the hospital, but had not been informed of his critical condition -until the hospital physician told me that serious heart trouble had -developed, intensified by excitement over the certainty of release.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p><p>No shadow of death was visible or was felt in this my last visit with -Evans, who was dressed and sitting up when I went in to see him. Never, -never have I seen any one so happy as was Evans that morning. With heart -overflowing with joy and with gratitude, his face was radiant with -delight. All the old animation was kindled again, and the voice, no -longer lifeless, was colored and warm with feeling.</p> - -<p>"I want to thank everybody," he said, "the governor, my lawyers, the -warden, and you. Everybody has been so good to me these last weeks. And -I shall be home for next Sunday. My sister is coming to take me to her -home, and she and my mother will take care of me until I'm able to work. -Sister writes me that mother can't sit still, but walks up and down the -room in her impatience to see me."</p> - -<p>We two friends, who had clasped hands in the darkness of his fate, were -together now when the dawn of his freedom was breaking, neither of us -realizing that it was to be the greater freedom of the Life Invisible.</p> - -<p>To us both, however, this hour was the beautiful culmination of our -years of friendship. I read the man's heart as if it were an open book -and it held only good will toward all the world.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p><p>Something moved me to speak to him as I had never spoken to one of my -prisoners, to try and make him feel my appreciation of his courage, his -unselfishness, his faithfulness. I told him that I realized how he had -<i>lived out</i> the qualities of the most heroic soldier. To give one's life -for one's country when the very air is charged with the spirit of -patriotism is a fine thing and worthy of the thrill of admiration which -it always excites. But liberty is dearer than life, and the prison -atmosphere gives little inspiration to knightly deeds. This man had -risen above himself into that higher region of moral victory. And so I -said what was in my heart, while something deeper than happiness came -into Evans's face.</p> - -<p>And then we said good-by, smiling into each other's eyes. This happened, -I think, on the last day but one of Evans's life.</p> - -<p>Afterward it was told in the prison that Evans died of joy at the -prospect of release. For him to be carried into the new life on this -high tide of happiness seemed to me a gift from heaven. For in the -thought of the prisoner freedom includes everything to be desired in -life. The joy of that anticipation had blinded Evans to the fact that -his health was ruined beyond repair. He was spared the realization that -the life of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> freedom, so fair to his imagination, could never truly be -his; for the prison-house of disease has bolts and bars which no human -hand can withdraw.</p> - -<p>But that mother! If she could have read only once again the light of his -love for her in the eyes of her son! But the sorrows of life fall alike -upon the just and the unjust.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> The good time allowed on a twelve years' sentence reduces -it to seven years and three months.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> - -<p>The psychological side of convict life is intensely interesting, but in -studying brain processes, supposed to be mechanical, one's theories and -one's logical conclusions are likely to be baffled by a factor that will -not be harnessed to any set of theories; namely, that <i>something which -we call conscience</i>. We forget that the criminal is only a human being -who has committed a crime, and that back of the crime is the same human -nature common to us all.</p> - -<p>During the first years when I was in touch with prison life I had only -occasional glimpses of remorse for crimes committed. The minds of most -of the convicts seemed to dwell on the "extenuating circumstances" more -than on the criminal act, and the hardships of prison life were almost -ever present in their thoughts. I had nearly come to consider the -remorse pictured in literature and the drama as an unreal thing, when I -made the acquaintance of Ellis Shannon and found it: a monster that -gripped the human heart and held<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> it as in a vise. Nemesis never -completed a work of retribution more fully than it was completed in the -life of Ellis Shannon.</p> - -<p>Shannon was born in an Eastern city, was a boy of more than average -ability, and there seemed no reason why he should have gone wrong; but -he early lost his father, his mother failed to control him, and when -about sixteen years of age he fell into bad company and was soon -launched in his criminal career. He broke off all connection with his -family, went West, and for ten years was successful in his line of -business—regular burglary. He was widely known among men of his calling -as "The Greek," and his "professional standing" was of the highest. The -first I ever heard of him was from one of my other prison friends, who -wrote me: "If you want to know about life in —— prison, write to Ellis -Shannon, who is there now. You can depend absolutely on what he -says—and when one professional says that of another you know it means -something." I did not, however, avail myself of this introduction.</p> - -<p>Shannon's reputation for cool nerve was undisputed, and it was said that -he did not know what fear was. In order to keep a clear head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> and steady -hand he refrained from dissipation; he prided himself upon never -endangering the lives of those whose houses he entered, and despised the -bunglers who did not know their business well enough to avoid personal -encounter in their midnight raids. Unlike most men of his calling he -always used a candle on entering a building, and his associates often -told him that sometime that candle would get him into trouble.</p> - -<p>One night the house of a prominent and popular citizen was entered. -While the burglar was pursuing his nefarious work the citizen suddenly -seized him by the shoulders, pulling him backward. The burglar managed -to fire backward over his own head, the citizen's hold was relaxed, and -the burglar fled. The shot proved fatal; the only trace left by the -assailant was a candle dropped on the floor.</p> - -<p>A reward was offered for the capture and conviction of the murderer. -Circumstantial evidence connected with the candle led to the arrest of -George Brett, a young man of the same town, not of the criminal class. -The verdict in the case turned upon the identification of the piece of -candle found in the house with one procured by the accused the previous -day; and in the opinion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> of the court this identification was proven. -Brett admitted having obtained a piece of candle from that grocer on -that afternoon, but claimed that he had used it in a jack-o'-lantern -made for a child in the family.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> Proof was insufficient to convict -the man of the actual crime, but this bit of evidence, with some other -less direct, was deemed sufficiently incriminating to warrant sending -Brett to prison for a term of years—seventeen, I think; and though the -convicted man always asserted his innocence his guilt was taken for -granted while six years slipped by.</p> - -<p>Ellis Shannon, in the meantime, had been arrested for burglary in -another State and had served a sentence in another penitentiary. He -seemed to have lost his nerve, and luck had turned against him. On his -release still another burglary resulted in a ten years' sentence, this -time to the same prison where Brett was paying the penalty of the crime -in which the candle had played so important a part.</p> - -<p>The two convicts happened to have cells in the same part of the prison, -and for the first time Ellis Shannon came face to face with George -Brett. A few days later Shannon requested an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> interview with the warden. -In the warden's office he announced that he was the man guilty of the -crime for which Brett was suffering, and that Brett had no part in it. -He drew a sketch of the house burglarized—not altogether correct—gave -a succinct account of the whole affair, and declared his readiness to go -into court, plead guilty to murder, and accept the sentence, even to the -death penalty. Action on this confession was promptly taken. Shannon was -sent into court and on his confession alone was sentenced to -imprisonment for life.</p> - -<p>Brett was overjoyed by this vindication and the expectation of immediate -release. But, no; the prosecuting parties were unconvinced by Shannon's -confession, which, in their opinion, did not dispose of the evidence -against Brett.</p> - -<p>It was a curious state of affairs, and one perhaps never paralleled, -that, while a man's unsupported statement was considered sufficient to -justify the imposing of a sentence to life imprisonment, this statement -counted for nothing as affecting the fate of the other man involved. And -there was never a trace of collusion between the two men, either at the -time of the crime or afterward.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>Shannon's story of the crime I shall give in his own terse language, -quoted from his confession published in the newspapers:</p> - -<p>"Up to the time of killing Mr. —— I had never even wounded anybody. I -had very little regard for the rights of property, but to shoot a man -dead at night in his own house was a climax of villainy I had not -counted on. A professional thief is not so blood-thirsty a wretch as he -is thought to be.... I am setting up no defense for the crime of murder -or burglary—it is all horrible enough. It was a miserable combination -of circumstances that caused the shooting that night. I was not feeling -well and so went into the house with my overcoat on—something I had -never done before. It was buttoned to the throat. I had looked at Mr. -—— a moment before and he was asleep. I had then turned and taken down -his clothes. I had a candle in one hand and the clothes in the other. I -would have left in a second of time when suddenly, before I could turn, -Mr. —— spoke. As quick as the word he had his arms thrown around me; -the candle went out and we were in the dark.</p> - -<p>"Now I could hardly remember afterwards how it all occurred. There was -no time to think. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> was helpless as a baby in the position in which I -was held. There is no time for reflection in a struggle like this. He -was holding me and I was struggling to get away. I told him several -times to let go or I'd shoot. I was nearly crazy with excitement and it -was simply the animal instinct of self-preservation that caused me to -fire the shots.</p> - -<p>"I was so weak when I got outside that in running I fell down two or -three times. That night in Chicago I was in hopes the man was only -wounded, and in that case I had determined to quit the business. When I -read the account in the papers next morning all I can say is that, -although I was in the city and perfectly safe, with as little chance of -being discovered as if I were in another planet, I would have taken my -chances—whether it would have been five or twenty years for the -burglary—if it were only in my power to do the thing over again. I did -not much care what I did after this. I thought I could be no worse than -I was.</p> - -<p>"In a few months I was arrested and got five years for a burglary in -——. I read what I could of the trial from what papers I could get; and -for the first time I saw what a deadly web<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> circumstances and the -conceit of human shrewdness can weave around an innocent man.</p> - -<p>"The trial went on. I did not open my mouth. I knew that if I said a -word and went into court fresh from the penitentiary I would certainly -be hanged, and I had not reached a point when I was ready to sacrifice -my life for a stranger.</p> - -<p>"In the feverish life I led in the short time out of prison I forgot all -about this, until I found myself here for ten years and then I thought: -there is a man in this prison doing hard work, eating coarse food, -deprived of everything that makes life worth having, and suffering for a -crime of which he knows as little as the dust that is yet to be created -to fill these miserable cells. I thought what a hell the place must be -to him.</p> - -<p>"No one has worked this confession out of me. I wish to implicate no -one, but myself. If you will not believe what I say now, and —— stays -in prison, it is likely the truth will never be known. But if in the -future the man who was with me that night will come to the front, -whether I am alive or dead, you will find that what I have told you is -as true as the law of gravitation. I was never in the town of —— -before that time or since. I did not know whom I had killed until I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> -read of it. I do not know —— (Brett) or any of his friends. But I do -know that he is perfectly innocent of the crime he is in prison for. I -know it better than any one in the world because I committed the crime -myself."</p> - -<p>The position of Brett was not affected in the least by this confession, -though his family were doing all in their power to secure his release. -The case was considered most difficult of solution. The theory of -delusion on Shannon's part was advanced and was accepted by those who -believed Brett guilty, but received no credence among the convicts who -knew Shannon and the burglar associated with him at the time the crime -was committed.</p> - -<p>I had never sought the acquaintance of a "noted criminal" before, but -this case interested me and I asked to see Shannon. For the first time I -felt myself at a disadvantage in an interview with a convict. A sort of -aloofness seemed to form the very atmosphere of his personality, and -though he sat near me it was with face averted and downcast eyes; the -face seemed cut in marble, it was so pale and cold, with clear-cut, -regular features, suggesting a singular appropriateness in his being -known as "The Greek."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>I opened conversation with some reference to the newspaper reports; -Shannon listened courteously but with face averted and eyes downcast, -and then in low, level tones, but with a certain incisiveness, he -entered upon the motive which led to his confession, revealing to me -also his own point of view of the situation. Six years had passed since -the crime was committed, and all that time, he said, he had believed -that, if he could bring himself to confess, Brett would be cleared—that -during these six years the murder had become a thing of the past, -partially extenuated in his mind, on the ground of self-defence; but -when he found himself in the same prison with Brett, here was a result -of his crime, living, suffering; and in the depths of Shannon's own -conscience pleading for vindication and liberty. As a burden on his own -soul the murder might have been borne in silence between himself and his -Creator, but as a living curse on another it demanded confession. And -the desire to right that wrong swept through his being with -overmastering force.</p> - -<p>"I had always believed," he said, "that 'truth crushed to earth would -rise again,' and I was willing to give my life for truth; but I learned -that the word of a convict is nothing—truth in a convict counts for -nothing."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p><p>The man had scarcely moved when he told me all this, and he sat like a -statue of despair when he relapsed into silence—still with downcast -eyes; I was absolutely convinced of the truth of what he had told me, of -the central truth of the whole affair, his guilt and his consciousness -of the innocence of the other man. That his impressions of some of the -details of the case might not square with known facts was of secondary -importance; to me the <i>internal evidence</i> was convincing. Isn't there -something in the Bible to the effect that "spirit beareth witness unto -spirit"? At all events, <i>sometimes a woman knows</i>.</p> - -<p>I told Shannon that I believed in his truth, and I offered to send him -magazines and letters if he wished. Then he gave me one swift glance of -scrutiny, with eyes accustomed to reading people, thanked me, and added -as we parted: "If there were more people like you in this world there -wouldn't be so many like me."</p> - -<p>My belief in the truth of Shannon's statement was purely intuitive, but -in order to make it clear to my understanding as well I studied every -objection to its acceptance by those who believed Shannon to be the -victim of a delusion. His sincerity no one doubted. It was claimed that -Shannon had manifested no interest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> in the case previous to his arrival -in the prison where Brett was. On the way to this prison Shannon, in -attempting to escape from the sheriff, had received a blow on the back -of his head, which it was assumed might have affected his mind. Among my -convict acquaintances was a man who had worked in the shop beside -Shannon in another prison, at the time of Brett's trial for the crime, -and this man could have had no possible motive for incriminating -Shannon. He told me that during all the time of the trial, five years -previous to the blow on his head, Shannon was greatly disturbed, -impatient to get hold of newspapers which he had to borrow, and -apparently absorbed in studying the evidence against Brett, but saying -always, "They can't convict him." This convict went on to tell me that -after the case was decided against Brett Shannon seemed to lose his -nerve and all interest in life. This account tallies exactly with -Shannon's printed confession, in which he says: "I read what I could of -the trial in what papers I could get. I had not yet reached the point -where I was willing to sacrifice my life for a stranger."</p> - -<p>In his confession Shannon had spoken of his accomplice in that terrible -night's work as one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> who could come forward and substantiate his -statements. Four different convicts of my acquaintance knew who this man -was, but not one of them was able to put me in communication with him. -The man had utterly disappeared. But this bit of evidence as to his -knowledge of the crime I did collect—his whereabouts was known to at -least one other of my convict acquaintances till the day after Shannon's -confession was made public. That day my acquaintance received from -Shannon's accomplice <i>a paper with the confession marked</i> and from that -day had lost all trace of him. The convict made this comment in defence -of the silence of the accomplice:</p> - -<p>"He wouldn't be such a fool as to come forward and incriminate himself -after Shannon's experience."</p> - -<p>Convicts in several States were aware of Shannon's fruitless effort to -right a wrong, and knew of the punishment brought upon himself by his -attempt. The outcome of the occurrence must have been regarded as a -warning to other convicts who might be prompted to honest confession in -behalf of another.</p> - -<p>At that time I had never seen George Brett, and not until later was I in -communication with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> his lawyers. But I was convinced that only from -convicts could evidence verifying Shannon's confession be gleaned.</p> - -<p>As far as I know, nothing more connected with that crime has ever come -to light. And even to-day there is doubtless a division of opinion among -those best informed. Finding there was nothing I could do in the matter, -my interest became centred in the study of the man Shannon. He was an -interesting study from the purely psychological side, still more so in -the gradual revelation of his real inner life.</p> - -<p>It is difficult to reconcile Shannon's life of action with his life of -thought, for he was a man of intellect, a student and a thinker. His use -of English was always correct. The range of his reading was wide, -including the best fiction, philosophy, science, and, more unusual, the -English essayists—Addison, Steele, and other contributors to <i>The -Spectator</i>. The true philosopher is shown in the following extract from -one of his letters to me:</p> - -<p>"I beg you not to think that I consider myself a martyr to the cause of -truth. That my statement was rejected takes nothing from the naked fact, -but simply proves the failure of conditions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> by which it was to be -established as such. It did not come within the rules of acceptance in -these things, consequently it was not accepted. This is a world of -method. Things should be in their place. People do not go to a -fish-monger for diamonds, nor to a prison for truth. I recognize the -incongruity of my position and submit to the inevitable."</p> - -<p>In explanation of his reception of my first call he writes:</p> - -<p>"I don't think that at first I quite understood the nature of your -call—it was so unexpected. If my meaning in what I said was obscure it -was because in thinking and brooding too much one becomes unable to talk -and gradually falls into a state where words seem unnatural. <i>And these -prison thoughts are terrible.</i> In their uselessness they are like -spiders building cobwebs in the brain, clouding it and clogging it -beyond repair. I try to use imagination as a drug to fill my mind with a -fanciful contentment that I can know in no other way. When I was a child -I used to dream and speculate in anticipation of the world that was -coming. Now I do the same, but for a different reason—to make me forget -the detestable period of fact that has intervened.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p><p>"So when I am not reading or sleeping, and when my work may be -performed mechanically and with least mental exertion, I live away from -myself and surroundings as much as possible. I was in a condition -something like this at the time of your call. A dreamer dislikes at best -to be awakened and in a situation like mine it is especially trying. -While talking in this way I must beg pardon, for I did really appreciate -your visit and felt more human after it. I would not have you infer from -this that the slightest imagination entered into my story of that -unfortunate affair. I would it were so; but if it is a fact that I -exist, all that I related is just as true."</p> - -<p>His choice of Schopenhauer as a friend illustrates the homœopathic -principle of like curing like.</p> - -<p>"Schopenhauer is an old friend and favorite of mine. Very often when I -am getting wretchedly blue and when everything as seen through my eyes -is wearing a most rascally tinge, I derive an immense amount of comfort -and consolation by thinking how much worse they have appeared to -Schopenhauer." In other words, the great pessimist served to produce a -healthy reaction.</p> - -<p>But this reaction was but for the hour. All<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> through Shannon's letters -there runs a vein of the bitterest pessimism. He distrusted all forms of -religion and arraigns the prison chaplains in these words:</p> - -<p>"I have never met a class of men who appear to know less of the -spiritual nature or the wants of their flocks. It is strange to me that -men, who might so easily gather material for the finest practical -lessons, surrounded as they are by real life experiences and -illustrations by which they might well teach that <i>crime does not pay</i> -either in coin or happiness, that they will ignore all this and rack -their brains to produce elaborate theological discourses founded upon -some sentence of a fisherman who existed two thousand years ago, to -paralyze and mystify a lot of poor plain horse thieves and burglars. -What prisoners are in need of is a man able to preach natural, every-day -common sense, with occasionally a little humor or an agreeable story or -incident to illustrate a moral. It seems to me if I were to turn -preacher I would try and study the simple character of the great master -as it is handed down to us."</p> - -<p>It strikes me that prison chaplains would do well to heed this convict -point of view of their preaching.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>I do not recall that Shannon ever made a criticism upon the -administration of the prison of which he was then an inmate, but he -gives free expression to his opinion of our general system of -imprisonment. He had been studying the reports of a prison congress -recently in session where various "reformatory measures" had been -discussed, or, to use his expression, "expatiated upon," and writes:</p> - -<p>"I wish to make a few remarks from personal observation upon this -subject of prison reform. I will admit, to begin with, that upon the -ground of protection to society, the next best thing to hanging a -criminal is to put him in prison, providing you keep him there; but if -you seek his reformation it is the worst thing you can do with him. -Convicts generally are not philosophers, neither are they men of pure -thought or deep religious feelings. They are not all sufficient to -themselves, and for this reason confinement never did, never can and -never will have a good effect upon them.</p> - -<p>"I have known hundreds of men, young and old, who have served time in -prison. I have known many of them to grow crafty in prison and upon -release to employ their peculiar talents in some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> other line of -business, safer but not less degrading to themselves; but I never knew -one to have been made a better man by <i>prison discipline</i>;—those who -reformed did so through other influences.</p> - -<p>"It may be a good prison or a bad one, with discipline lax or rigorous, -but the effect, though different, is never good: it never can be. Crime -is older than prisons. According to best accounts it began in the Garden -of Eden, but God—who knew human nature—instead of shutting up Adam and -Eve separately, drove them out into the world where they could exercise -their minds hustling for themselves. Since then there has been but one -system that reformed a man without killing him, namely, transportation.</p> - -<p>"This system, instead of leaving a bad man in prison, <i>to saturate -himself with his own poison</i>, sent him to a distant country, where under -new conditions, and with something to work and hope for, he could -harmlessly dissipate that poison among the wilds of nature. It may be no -other system is possible; that the world is getting too densely -populated to admit of transportation; or that society owes nothing to -one who has broken her laws. I write this, not as 'an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> Echo from a -Living Tomb,' but as plain common sense."<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p> - -<p>Personal pride, one of the very elements of the man's nature, kept him -from ever uttering a complaint of individual hardships; but the mere -fact of confinement, the lack of air, space, freedom of movement and -action, oppressed him as if the iron bars were actually pressing against -his spirit. His one aim was to find some Lethe in which he could drown -memory and consciousness of self. In all the years of his manhood there -seemed to have been no sunny spot in which memory could find a -resting-place.</p> - -<p>From first to last his misdirection of life had been such a frightful -blunder; even in its own line such a dismal failure. His boasted "fine -art" of burglary had landed him in the ranks of murderers. He had -despised cowardice and yet at the critical hour in the destiny of -another he had proven himself a coward. And when by complete -self-sacrifice he had sought to right the wrong the sacrifice had been -in vain.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>Understanding something of the world in which he lived, I suggested the -study of a new language as a mental occupation requiring concentration -on a line entirely disconnected from his past. He gladly adopted my -suggestion and began the study of German; but it was all in vain—he -could not escape from himself.</p> - -<p>He had managed to keep so brave a front in his letters that I was -unaware that the man was completely breaking down until the spring -morning when we had our last interview.</p> - -<p>There was in his face the unmistakable look of the man who is doomed—so -many of my prisoners died. His remorse was like a living thing that had -eaten into his life—a very wolf within his breast. He was no longer -impassive, but fairly writhing in mental agony. He did not seem to know -that he was dying; he certainly did not care. His one thought was for -Brett and the far-reaching, irreparable wrong that Brett had suffered -through him. When I said that I thought the fate of the innocent man in -prison was not so dreadful as that of the guilty man Shannon exclaimed: -"You are mistaken. I don't see how it is possible for a man unjustly -imprisoned to believe in any justice, human or divine, or in any God -above,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> and he continued with an impassioned appeal on behalf of -innocent prisoners which left a deep impression with me. In his own -being he seemed to be actually experiencing at once the fate of the -innocent victim of injustice and of the guilty man suffering just -punishment. He spoke of his intense spiritual loneliness, which human -sympathy was powerless to reach, and of how thankful he should be if he -could find light or hope in any religion; but he could not believe in -any God of truth or justice while Brett was left in prison. A soul more -completely desolate it is impossible to imagine.</p> - -<p>My next letter from Shannon was written from the hospital, and expresses -the expectation of being "all right again in a few days"; farther on in -the letter come these words:</p> - -<p>"I do believe in a future life. Without this hope and its consoling -influence life would scarcely be worth living. I believe that all the -men who have ever died, Atheists or whatever they professed to be, did -so with the hope more or less sustaining them, of awakening to a future -life. This hope is implanted by nature universally in the human breast -and it is not unlikely to suppose that it has some meaning."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>A few weeks later I received a line from the warden telling me of the -death of Ellis Shannon, and from the prison hospital was sent me a -little volume of translations from Socrates which had been Shannon's -companion in his last days. A slip of paper between the leaves marked -Socrates's reflections on death and immortality. The report of one of -the hospital nurses to me was:</p> - -<p>"Shannon had consumption, but he died of grief." It is not often that -one dies of a broken heart outside the pages of fiction and romance, but -medical authority assures us that it sometimes happens.</p> - -<p>Up to this time I had never seen George Brett, but after the death of -Shannon we had one long interview. What first struck me was the -remarkable similarity between the voices of Brett and Shannon, as -supposed identification of the voice of Brett with that of the burglar -had been accepted as evidence at the trial. My general impression of the -man was wholly favorable. He was depressed and discouraged, but -responsive, frank, and unstudied in all that he said. When he mentioned -the man shot in the burglary I watched him closely; his whole manner -brightened as he said:</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>"Why, he was one of the best men in the world, a man that little -children loved. He was good to every one."</p> - -<p>"And you could never speak of that man as you are speaking now if you -had taken his life," was my inward comment.</p> - -<p>Brett's attitude toward Shannon was free from any shade of resentment, -but what most impressed me was that Shannon's belief that the unjust -conviction of Brett and his own fruitless effort to right the wrong must -make it impossible for Brett ever to believe in a just God—in other -words, that the most cruel injury to Brett was the spiritual injury. -This belief proved to be without foundation. George Brett had not been a -religious man, but in Shannon he saw that truth and honor were more than -life, stronger than the instinct of self-preservation; and he could -hardly escape from the belief that divine justice itself was the -impelling power back of the impulse prompting Shannon to confession. In -the strange action and interaction of one life upon another, in the -final summing up of the relation of these two men, it seemed to have -been given to Shannon to touch the deeper springs of spiritual life in -Brett, to reveal to him something of the eternal verities of existence.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><p>And truth crushed to earth did rise again; for not long after the death -of Shannon, in the eighth year of his imprisonment, George Brett was -pardoned, with the public statement that he had been convicted on -doubtful evidence and that the confession of Shannon had been accepted -in proof of his innocence.</p> - -<p>No adequate compensation can ever be made to one who has suffered unjust -imprisonment, but there are already indications of the dawn of a -to-morrow when the state, in common honesty, will feel bound to make at -least financial restitution to those who have been the victims of such -injustice.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> The crime was committed after the midnight of Hallowe'en.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> This letter was written twenty-five years ago. The logic -of Shannon's argument is unquestionably sound. The futility of -imprisonment as a reformatory agent is now widely recognized. But better -than transportation is the system of conditional liberation of men after -conviction now receiving favorable consideration—even tentative -adoption—in many States.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> - -<p>There is another chapter to my experience with prisoners; it is the -story of what they have done for me, for they have kept the balance of -give and take very even between us. I have an odd collection of -souvenirs and keepsakes, but, incongruous as the different articles are, -one thread connects them all; from the coarse, stubby pair of little -mittens suggesting the hand of a six-year-old country boy to the flask -of rare Venetian glass in the dull Oriental tones dear to the æsthetic -soul; from the hammock that swings under the maple-trees to the -diminutive heart in delicately veined onyx, designed to be worn as a -pendant.</p> - -<p>The mittens came from Jackson Currant, a friendly soul who unravelled -the one pair of mittens allowed him for the winter, contrived to possess -himself of a piece of wire from which he fashioned a hook, and evenings -in his cell crocheted for me a pair of mittens. Funny little things they -were, but a real gift, for this prisoner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> took from himself and gave to -me the one thing he had to give.</p> - -<p>Another gift which touched me came from an old Rocky Mountain -trapper—then a prisoner for life. His one most cherished possession was -a copy of "A Day in Athens with Socrates," sent him by the translator. -After keeping the precious book for three years and learning its -contents by heart, he sent it to me as a birthday gift and I found it -among other birthday presents one February morning. Then there is the -cherry box that holds my stationery, with E. A.'s initials carved in the -cover; E. A., who is reclaiming his future from all shadow of his past. -It was E. A. who introduced me to my Welsh boy, Alfred Allen, and it was -Alfred who opened my heart to all the street waifs in the universe.</p> - -<p>In many ways my life has been enriched by my prisoners. Most delightful -social affiliations, most stimulating intellectual influences, and some -of the warmest friendships of my life, by odd chains of circumstances -have developed from my prison interests.</p> - -<p>Almost any friend can give us material gifts—the gift of things—the -friend who widens our social relations or broadens our interests does -us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> far better service; but it is the rare friend who opens our -spiritual perception to whom we are most indebted. For through the ages -has been pursued the quest of some proof that man is a spiritual being, -some evidence that what we call the soul has its origin beyond the realm -of the material; the learning of all time has failed to satisfy this -quest; and the wealth of the world cannot purchase one fragment of such -proof.</p> - -<p>And yet it is to one of my prisoners that I owe the gift of an hour in -which the spirit of man seemed the one vital fact of his existence, the -one thing beyond the reach of death; and time has given priceless value -to that hour.</p> - -<p>I met James Wilson in the first years of my prison acquaintance, and it -was long before it occurred to me that under later legislation he would -have been classed as an habitual criminal. I have often wondered at the -power of his personality; it must have been purely the result of innate -qualities. He was brave, he was generous, he was loyalty itself; and his -sympathies were responsive as those of a woman. He would have been an -intrepid soldier, a venturesome explorer, a chivalrous knight; but in -the confusion of human life the boy was shoved to the wrong track and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> -having the momentum of youth and strong vitality he rushed recklessly -onward into the course of a Robin Hood; living in an age when those who -come into collision with the social forces of law and order are called -criminals, his career in that direction fortunately was of short -duration.</p> - -<p>Had Wilson not been arrested in his downward course he might never have -come into possession of the self whom I knew so well, that true self at -last so clearly victorious over adverse circumstances. In this sketch I -have not used Wilson's letters; they were so purely personal, so wholly -of his inner life, that to give them to the public seemed desecration.</p> - -<p>I can give but one glimpse of his childhood. When he was a very little -boy he sat on his father's knee and looked up into kind and loving gray -eyes. The father died, and the son remembered him always as kind and -loving.</p> - -<p>The loss of his father changed the course of Wilson's life. The mother -formed other ties; the boy was one too many, and left home altogether as -soon as he was old enough to shift for himself. He went honestly to -work, where so many boys along the Mississippi Valley are morally -ruined—on a river-boat.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>After a time things began to go wrong with him. I don't know whether -the injury was real or fancied, but the boy believed himself maliciously -injured; and in the blind passion following he left the river, taking -with him money that belonged to the man who had angered him. Wilson had -meant to square the score, to balance wrong with wrong; but his revenge -recoiled upon himself and at sixteen he was a thief and a fugitive. -Before the impetus of that moral movement was exhausted he was in the -penitentiary—"one of the most vigorous and fine-looking men in the -prison, tall and splendidly built," so said another prisoner who knew -him at that time.</p> - -<p>At the expiration of his three years' sentence Wilson began work in a -Saint Louis printing-office, opening, so he believed, a new chapter in -life. He was then twenty years of age.</p> - -<p>During that year all through the West—if the Mississippi region can -still be called West—there were serious labor troubles. Men were -discharged from every branch of employment where they could be spared; -and the day came when all the "new hands" in the printing-office where -Wilson worked were turned off.</p> - -<p>Wilson had saved something from his earnings,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> and while his money -lasted he lived honestly, seeking employment, but the money was gone -before he found employment. Outside the cities the country was overrun -with tramps; temptations to lawlessness were multiplied; starvation, -stealing, or begging seemed the only pathway open to many. None starved; -there was little choice between the other alternatives. Jails and -prisons were crowded with inmates, some of whom felt themselves -fortunate in being provided with food and shelter even at the cost of -liberty. "I have gone hungry so many days and slept on the ground so -many nights that the thought of a prison seems something like home," was -a remark made to me. "The world owes me a living" was a thought that -came in the form of temptation to many a man who could get no honest -work.</p> - -<p>After Wilson had been out of employment for two or three months there -occurred a great commotion near a small town within fifty miles of Saint -Louis. Stores had been broken into and property carried off, and a -desperate attempt was made to capture the burglars, who were supposed to -be in that vicinity. A man who had gone to a stream of water was -arrested and identified as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>belonging to the gang. He was ordered to -betray his accomplices; he refused absolutely. The reckless courage in -his nature once aroused, the "honor" observed among thieves was his -inevitable course. A rope was brought, and Wilson was taken to a tree -where the story of his life would doubtless have ended had not a shout -from others, who were still searching, proclaimed the discovery of the -retreat of his companions. Wilson and Davis, the two leaders, were -sentenced each to four years in the penitentiary.</p> - -<p>Defeated, dishonored, penniless, and friendless, Wilson found himself -again in prison; this time under the more than double disgrace of being -a "second-term" man, with consciousness of having deliberately made a -choice of crime. He was an avowed infidel, and his impetuous, unsubdued -nature was at war with life and the world. For two years he lived on in -this way; then his health began to fail under the strain of work and -confinement.</p> - -<p>With the loss of strength his heart grew harder and more desperate. One -day his old recklessness broke out in open revolt against prison -authority. He was punished by being sent to the "solitary," where the -temperature in summer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> is much lower than that of the shops where the -men work; he took cold, a hemorrhage of the lungs resulted, and he was -sent to the prison hospital.</p> - -<p>There, on a Sunday morning two months later, I first met Wilson. I think -it was the glance of the dark-gray eyes under long, sweeping black -lashes that first attracted me. But it was the expression of the face, -the quiet, dignified courtesy of manner, and the candid statement of his -history that made the deeper impression. Simply and briefly he gave me -the outlines of his past; and he spoke with deep, concentrated -bitterness of the crushing, terrible life in prison. His unspoken -loneliness—he had lost all trace of his mother—and his illness, almost -ignored but evident, appealed to my sympathy and prompted me to offer to -write to him. He thought it would be a pleasure to receive letters, but -assured me that he could write nothing worth reading in return.</p> - -<p>Long afterward I asked what induced him to reply to my questions so -frankly and sincerely. His answer was: "Because I knew if I lied to you, -it would make it harder for you to believe the next man you talked with, -who might tell you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> the truth." During all that Sunday afternoon and -evening Wilson remained in my thoughts, and the next -afternoon—Hallowe'en, as it happened—found me again at the hospital. I -stopped for a few moments at the bedside of a young prisoner who was -flushed with hectic fever and wildly rebellious over the thought of -dying in prison—he lived to die an honest man in freedom, in the dress -of a civilized being and not in the barbarous, zebra-like suit then worn -in the prison. I remained for a longer time beside the bed of a man who -was serving a sentence of imprisonment for life for a crime of which he -was innocent. After twelve years his innocence was proved; he was -released a crippled invalid, with no means of support except by hands -robbed of their power to work. The State makes no reparation for an -unspeakable wrong like this, far more cruel than death.</p> - -<p>When I turned to look for Wilson he was sitting apart from the other -men, with a vacant chair beside him. Joining him beside that west -window, flooded with the golden light of an autumn sunset, I took the -vacant seat intended for me; and the hour that followed so influenced -Wilson's future that he adopted that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> day—Hallowe'en—as his birthday. -He knew the year but not the month in which he was born.</p> - -<p>I have not the slightest recollection of what I said while we sat beside -the window. But even now I can see Wilson's face as he listened with -silent attention, not meeting my eyes. I think I spoke of his personal -responsibility for the life he had lived. I am certain that I said -nothing about swearing and that I asked no promises.</p> - -<p>But thoughts not in my mind were suggested to him. For when I ceased -speaking he raised his eyes, and looking at me intently he said: "I -can't promise to be a Christian; my life has been too bad for that; but -I want to promise you that I will give up swearing and try to have pure -thoughts. I can promise you that, because these things lie in my own -power; but there's too much wickedness between me and God for me ever to -be a Christian."</p> - -<p>His only possession was the kingdom of his thoughts; without reservation -it was offered to his friend, and with the sure understanding that she -would value it.</p> - -<p>It was a surprise when I received Wilson's first letter to see the -unformed writing and the uncertain spelling; but the spirit of the man -could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> be traced, even through the inadequate medium. In earnestness and -simplicity he was seeking to fulfil his promise, finding, as he -inevitably must, that he had committed himself to more than his promise. -It was not long before he wrote that he had begun a new life altogether -"for your sake and for my own." His "thoughts" gave him great trouble, -for the old channels were still open, and his cell-mate's mind was -steeped in wickedness. But he made the best of the situation, and -instead of seeking to ward off evil he took the higher course of sharing -his own better thoughts with his cell-mate, over whom he acquired a -strong influence. Steadfastly he sought to overcome evil with good. Very -slowly grew his confidence in himself; and his great anxiety seemed to -be lest I should think him better than he was.</p> - -<p>Like all persons with tuberculosis Wilson was sanguine of recovery; and -as he went back to work in one of the shops the day after I left, and -always wrote hopefully, I took it for granted that his health was -improving.</p> - -<p>Six months only passed before we met again, and I was wholly unprepared -for the startling change in Wilson's appearance. His cough and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> the -shortness of his breath were distressing. But the poor fellow was so -delighted to see me that he tried to set his own condition entirely -aside.</p> - -<p>We had a long talk in the twilight of that lovely May evening, and again -we were seated beside a window, through which the light and sounds of -spring came in. I learned then how hard life was for that dying man. He -was still subject to the strict discipline of the most strictly -disciplined prison in the country: compelled to rise at five in the -morning and go through the hurried but exact preparations for the day -required of well men. He was kept on the coarse prison fare, forced to -march breathlessly in the rapid lock-step of the gang of strong men with -whom he worked, and kept at work in the shop all through the long days. -The strain on nerve and will and physical strength was never relaxed.</p> - -<p>These things he told me, and they were all true; but he told me also -better things, not so hard for me to know. He gave me the history of his -moral struggles and victories. He told me of the "comfort" my letters -had been to him; his whole heart was opened to me in the faith that I -would understand and believe him. It was then that he told me he was -trying to live by some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> verses he had learned; and in answer to my -request, hesitatingly, and with breath shortened still more by -embarrassment, he repeated the lines:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"I stand upon the Mount of God,</div> -<div class="i1">With gladness in my soul,</div> -<div>I hear the storms in vale beneath—</div> -<div class="i1">I hear the thunder roll.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"But I am calm with Thee, my God,</div> -<div class="i1">Beneath these glorious skies,</div> -<div>And to the height on which I stand</div> -<div class="i1">No storm nor cloud can rise."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>He was wholly unconscious that there was anything unusual in his -reaching up from the depths of sin, misery, and degradation to the -spiritual heights of eternal light. He rather reproached himself for -having left the valley of repentance, seeming to feel that he had -escaped mental suffering that was deserved; although he admitted: "The -night after you left me in October, when I went back to my cell, the -tears were just running down my face—if that could be called -repentance."</p> - -<p>At the close of our interview, as Wilson was going out, he passed -another prisoner on the way in to see me.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p><p>"Do you know Wilson?" was Newton's greeting as he approached me.</p> - -<p>"Do <i>you</i> know Wilson?" was my question in reply.</p> - -<p>Newton had taken offence at something in one of my letters and it was to -make peace with him that I had planned the interview, but all -misunderstanding evaporated completely in our common regret and anxiety -about Wilson; for my feeling was fully shared by this man who—well, he -<i>was</i> pretty thoroughly hardened on all other subjects. But here the -chord of tenderness was touched; and all his hardness and resentment -melted in the relief of finding some one who felt as he did on the -subject nearest his heart.</p> - -<p>"I have worked beside Wilson in the shop for two years, and I have never -loved any man as I have grown to love him," he said. "And it has been so -terrible to see him dying by inches, and kept at work when he could -scarcely stand." The man spoke with strong emotion; the very depths of -his nature were stirred. He told me all about this friendship, which had -developed notwithstanding the fact that conversation between convicts -was supposed to be confined to necessary communication in relation to -work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> Side by side they had worked in the shop, and as Wilson's -strength failed Newton managed to help him. Newton's praise and -affection really counted for something, as he was an embittered man with -small faith in human nature. He said that in all his life nothing had -been so hard as to see his friend sinking under his fate, while <i>he</i> was -powerless to interfere. Newton and I had one comfort, however, in the -fact that Wilson's sentence was near the end. In justice to the -authorities of the prison where these men were confined I wish to state -that dying prisoners were usually sent to the hospital. Wilson's was an -exceptional case of hardship.</p> - -<p>Early in July Wilson was released from prison. When he reached Chicago -his evident weakness arrested the attention of a passer-by, who hired a -boy to carry his bundle and see him to his destination. He had -determined to try to support himself, believing that freedom would bring -increased strength; but he was too ill to work. The doctor whom he -consulted spoke encouragingly, but urged the necessity of rest and -Minnesota air. I therefore sent him a pass to Minneapolis, and the route -was by way of my own home.</p> - -<p>Life was hard on Wilson, but it gave him one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> day of happiness apart -from poverty or crime, when he felt himself a welcome guest in the home -of a friend. When his train arrived from Chicago I was at the station to -meet him, and before driving home we called on my physician that I might -know what to anticipate. The doctor commended the plan for the climate -of Minnesota, and spoke encouragingly to Wilson, but to me privately he -gave the fiat, "No hope."</p> - -<p>Wilson spent the rest of that day in the library of my home, and all the -afternoon he was smiling. My face reflected his smiles, but I could not -forget the shadow of death in the background. We talked of many things -that afternoon; the breadth and fairness of his opinions on prison -matters, the impersonal way in which he was able to consider the -subject, surprised me, for his individual experience had been -exceptionally severe.</p> - -<p>When weariness came into his eyes and his voice I suggested a little -music. The gayer music did not so much appeal to him, but I shall never -forget the man's delight in the sweet and restful cadences of -Mendelssohn. After a simple tea served Wilson in the library we took a -drive into the country, where the invalid enjoyed the lovely view of -hills and valleys wrapped in the glow of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> the summer sunset; and then I -left him for the night at a comfortable hotel.</p> - -<p>The next morning Wilson was radiantly happy, notwithstanding "a hard -night"; and it happened to be one of the days when summer does her best -to keep us in love with life. All the forenoon we spent under a great -maple-tree, with birds in the branches and blue sky overhead, Wilson -abandoning himself to the simple joy of living and resting. Wilson was a -fine-looking man in citizen's dress, his regular features refined and -spiritualized by illness.</p> - -<p>There were preparations to be made for Minnesota and the suit-case to be -repacked, and what value Wilson placed upon the various articles I -contributed! I think it was the cake of scented soap—clearly a -luxury—that pleased him most, but he was interested in every single -thing, and his heart was warmed by the cordial friendliness of my -mother, who added her own contribution to his future comfort. His one -regret was that he had nothing to give us in return.</p> - -<p>But time was on the wing, and the morning slipped by all too rapidly, as -the hours of red-letter days always do, and the afternoon brought the -parting at the train for Minneapolis. Wilson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> lingered beside me while -there was time, then looking gravely into my eyes, he said: "Good-by; I -hope that we shall meet again—<i>on this side</i>." A moment later the -moving train carried him away toward the north, which to him meant the -hope of health.</p> - -<p>Exhausted by the journey to Minneapolis, he at once applied for -admission to a Catholic hospital, and here I will let him speak for -himself, through the first letter that I received after he left me.</p> - -<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>:</p> - -<p>"I am now in the hospital, and I am so sleepy when I try to write -that I asked one of the sisters to write for me.</p> - -<p>"I felt quite weak when I first came here, but now I take beef-tea, -and I feel so much stronger, I think I will be very much better by -the end of this month.</p> - -<p>"The Mother Superior is most kind and calls me her boy and thinks -she will soon have me quite well again. I have a fine room to -myself, and I feel most happy as I enjoy the beautiful fresh air -from the Mississippi River, which runs quite near me.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>"Dear friend, I wish you were here to enjoy a few days and see how -happy I am."</p></blockquote> - -<p>And scrawled below, in a feeble but familiar handwriting, were the -words:</p> - -<p>"I tried to write, but failed."</p> - -<p>Under the influence of the sisters Wilson was led back to the church -into which he had been baptized, and although he did not accept its -limitations he found great comfort in the sense of protection that it -gave him. Rest and nursing and the magical air of Minnesota effected -such an improvement in his health that before many weeks Wilson was -discharged from the hospital.</p> - -<p>After a short period of outdoor work, in which he tested his strength, -he went into a printing-office, where, for a month, he felt himself a -man among men. But it was an overambitious and unwise step—confinement -and close air of the office were more than he could endure, and with -great regret he gave up the situation.</p> - -<p>Winter was setting in and he found no work that he could do, and yet -thought himself too well to again seek admission to a hospital. The -outlook of life darkened, for there seemed to be no place for him -anywhere. He did not write to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> me during that time of uncertainty, and -one day, after having spent three nights in a railroad station, as a -last resort he asked to be sent to the county home and was received -there; after that he could not easily obtain admission to a hospital.</p> - -<p>Western county homes were at that time hard places; in some respects -existence there was harder than in the prison, where restraint and -discipline are in a measure a protection, securing a man undisturbed -possession of his inner life and thoughts, during working hours at -least. The ceaselessly intrusive life of the home, with the lack of -discipline and the unrestrained intercourse of inmates, with the -idleness and the dirt, is far more demoralizing; crime itself does not -sap self-respect like being an idle pauper among paupers. All this could -be read between the lines of Wilson's letters.</p> - -<p>And now a new dread was taking hold of him. All his hope and ambition -had centred in the desire to be good for this life. He had persistently -shut out the thought of death as the one thing that would prevent his -realizing this desire. Nature and youth clung passionately to life, and -all the strength of his will was nerved to resist the advance of -disease. But day by day the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>realization that life was slipping from him -forced itself deeper into his consciousness; even for the time -discouraging him morally. His high resolves seemed of no avail. It was -all of no use. He must die a pauper with no chance to regain his lost -manhood; life seemed indeed a hopeless failure. I had supplied Wilson -with paper and envelopes, stamped and addressed, that I might never fail -of hearing from him directly or through others; but there came an -interval of several weeks when I heard nothing, although writing -regularly. Perplexed, as well as anxious, in my determination to break -the silence at all hazards, I wrote a somewhat peremptory letter. The -answer came by return mail, but it was the keeper of the county home who -wrote that Wilson had written regularly and that he was very unhappy -over my last letter, adding:</p> - -<p>"He says that if this room was filled with money it would not tempt him -to neglect his best friend; and when I told him that this room was -pretty big and would hold a lot of money he said that didn't make any -difference."</p> - -<p>I could not be reconciled to Wilson's dying in that place, and when the -spring days came he was sent to Chicago, where his entrance to a -hospital<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> had been arranged. It was an April afternoon when I found him -in one of the main wards of the hospital, a large room flooded with -sunshine and fresh air. Young women, charming in their nurses' uniform, -with skilled and gentle hands, were the ministering spirits there; the -presiding genius a beautiful Philadelphian whose gracious tranquillity -was in itself a heavenly benediction to the sick and suffering among -whom she lived. On a table beside Wilson's bed trailing arbutus was -filling the air with fragrance and telling the story of spring.</p> - -<p>Wilson was greatly altered; but his face was radiant in the gladness of -our meeting. For weeks previous he had not been able to write me of his -thoughts or feelings, and I do not know when the change came. But it was -clearly evident that, as death approached, he had turned to meet it; and -had found, as so many others have found, that death no longer seemed an -enemy and the end of all things, but a friend who was leading the way to -fuller life; he assumed that I understood all this; he would have found -it difficult to express it in words; but he had much to tell me of all -those around him, and wished to share with me the friendships he had -formed in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> the hospital; and I was interested in the way the <i>quality of -the man's nature</i> had made itself felt among nurses and patients alike.</p> - -<p>One of the patients who had just been discharged came to the bedside to -bid him good-by; Wilson grasped his hand and in a few earnest words -reminded him of promises given in a previous conversation. With broken -voice the man renewed his promises, and left with his eyes full of -tears. He was unable to utter the good-by he had come to give.</p> - -<p>At the close of my visit Wilson insisted upon giving me the loveliest -cluster of his arbutus; while Miss Alden, the Philadelphian, sanctioned -with a smile his sharing of her gift with another.</p> - -<p>As Miss Alden went with me to the door she told me of her deep interest -in Wilson, and of the respect and affection he had won from all who had -come in contact with him. "The nurses consider it a pleasure to do -anything for one who asks so little and is so grateful," she said. -Though knowing that he had been in prison, Miss Alden was surprised to -learn that Wilson was not a man of education. His use of English, the -general tone of his thoughts and conversation, had classed him as a man -familiar with good literature and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>refined associations. She, too, had -felt in him a certain spiritual strength, and was touched by his loyalty -to me, which seemed never obscured by his gratitude to others. She -believed that only the strength of his desire to see me once again had -kept him in this world for the previous week.</p> - -<p>The next morning Wilson was visibly weaker; the animation caused by the -excitement of seeing me the day before was gone; but the spiritual peace -and strength which had come to him were the more evident.</p> - -<p>At his dictation I wrote a last message to Newton, and directions as to -the disposal of his clothing, to be given to patients whose needs he had -discovered. He expressed a wish to leave some little remembrances for -each of the nurses; there were six to whom he felt particularly -indebted. There was Miss Stevens, "who has been so very kind at night"; -every one had her special claim, and I promised that each should receive -some token of his gratitude.</p> - -<p>Afterward he spoke of the new life before him as naturally and easily as -he spoke of the hospital. He seemed already to have crossed the border -of the new life. His heart had found its home in God; there he could -give himself without reserve.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> Life and eternity were gladly offered to -the One in whom he had perfect trust.</p> - -<p>"Tell me," I said, "what is your thought of heaven, now that it is so -near? What do you expect?"</p> - -<p>How full of courage and trust and honesty was his answer! "I do not -expect happiness; at least not at once. God is too just for that, after -the life I have lived." Imprisonment, sickness, poverty, all the evils -that we most dread, had been endured for years, but counted for nothing -to him when weighed against his ruined life. But the thought of -suffering brought no fear. The justice of God was dearer to him than -personal happiness. I left that feeling undisturbed. He was nearer than -I to the light of the perfect day, and I could see that, unconsciously, -he had ceased to look to any one "on this side" for light.</p> - -<p>Wilson was sleeping when I saw him again, but the rapid change which had -taken place was apparent at a glance. When he opened his eyes and saw me -standing beside him he looked at me silently for a moment. With an -effort he gathered strength for what he evidently wished to say; and all -the gratitude and affection that he had never before attempted to -express to me directly were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> revealed in a few simple words. He would -have no good-by; the loss of the supreme friendship of his life formed -no part of his idea of death. Then he spoke of the larger life of -humanity for which he had learned to feel so deeply, and his final words -to me were: "Be to others what you have been to me. We are all brothers -and sisters." The last thought between us was not to be of an exclusive, -individual friendship, but of that universal tie which binds each to -all.</p> - -<p>Before midnight the earthly life had ended, peacefully and without fear. -The stem of Easter lilies that I carried to the hospital next day was -placed in the hands folded in the last sleep, and Wilson clasped in -death the symbol of new life and heavenly purity.</p> - -<p>Wilson was one of the men behind the bars; but it is as man among men -that I think of him; and his last words to me, "We are all brothers and -sisters," sum up the truth that inspires every effort the round world -over to answer the call of those who are desolate or oppressed—whether -the cry comes from little children in the mine, the workshop, or the -tenement, or from those who are in slavery, in hospital, or in prison.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> - -<p>It was during the eighties and the nineties of the last century that I -was most closely in touch with prison life; and it was at that time that -the men whose stories I have told and from whose letters I have quoted -were behind the bars. For forty years or more there was no radical -change in methods of discipline in this prison, but material conditions -were somewhat improved, the stripes and the lock-step were abandoned, -and sanitation was bettered.</p> - -<p>This institution stood as one of the best in the country, and doubtless -it was above the average in most respects. While the convicts were under -rigid repressive regulations, the guards were under rules scarcely less -strict, no favoritism was allowed, no bribery tolerated, and the -successive administrations were thoroughly honorable. While the -different wardens conformed to accepted standards of discipline there -were many instances of individual kindness from members of the -administration, and no favor that I asked for a prisoner was ever -refused.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>But the twentieth century has brought a complete revolution in methods -of dealing with convicts. This radical revolution is overthrowing -century-old customs, and theories both ancient and modern. It has been -sprung upon us so suddenly that we have not yet grasped its full -meaning, but the causes leading up to it have been silently working -these many years.</p> - -<p>For ages the individuality of the human being has been merged in the -term criminal; the criminal had practically ceased to be a man, and was -classified only according to his offence; as murderer, thief, forger, -pickpocket, etc. During the nineteenth century there was a gradual -mitigation of the fate of the convict: laws became more flexible, -efforts were made to secure more uniformity in the length of sentence -imposed, many States discarded the lock-step and the striped clothing, -and the contract system was giving place to other employment of -convicts. While the older prisons were growing unspeakably worse through -decaying walls and increasing vermin, as new penitentiaries were built -more light, better ventilation, larger cells, and altogether better -sanitation were adopted. However, the Lombroso theory of a distinct -criminal type,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> stamped with pronounced physical characteristics, was -taught in all our universities and so generally accepted by the public -that the criminal was believed to be <i>a different kind of man</i>.</p> - -<p>The courts did a thriving business collecting all their fees and keeping -our prisons well filled, while the discipline of the convicts was left -to the prison officials, with practically no interference. Prison -congresses were held and there was much talk around and about the -criminal, but he was not regarded as a man with human feelings and human -rights; methods of management were discussed, but the inhuman -punishments sanctioned by some of these very wardens were never -mentioned in these discussions. "We are in charge; all's right in the -convict world," was the impression given the outsider who listened to -their addresses.</p> - -<p>Unquestionably many of these prison wardens were at heart humanitarians, -and gave to their prisons a distinctive atmosphere as the result of -their personal characteristics, but they were all the victims of -tradition as to dealing with convicts—tradition and precedent, the -established order of prison management. The inexperienced warden taking -charge naturally followed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> beaten tracks; he studied the situation -from the point of view of his predecessor, and the position at best was -a difficult one; radical innovations could be made only with the -sanction of the prison commissioners, who seemed to be mainly interested -in the prison as a paying proposition; and pay it did under the -abominable contract system.</p> - -<p>And so the years went on with the main lines of prison discipline—the -daily lives of the convicts—practically unchanged. The convict was -merely a human machine to be worked a certain number of hours with no -incentive to good work beyond the fear of punishment. No thought was -given to fitting him for future citizenship. Every prison had its -punishment cells, some of them underground, most of them dark, where men -were confined for days on bread and water, usually shackled standing to -the iron door of the cell during working hours, and at night sleeping on -the stone floor unless a board was provided—the food a scant allowance -of bread and water. Punishment of this kind was inflicted for even -slight infractions of rules, while floggings, "water cures," and other -devilish methods were sometimes resorted to. In prisons of the better -grade<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> the most rigidly repressive measures were enforced and all -natural human impulses were repressed. This was considered "excellent -discipline."</p> - -<p>Now, as to the results of those severe punishments and rigid repressive -methods: were the criminals reformed? Was society protected? What were -the fruits of our prisons and reformatories? I have before me reliable, -up-to-date statistics from a neighboring State as to the number of men -convicted of a second offence after serving one term in prison. The -general average shows that forty, out of every hundred men sent to -prison for the first time, on being released commit a second crime. This -percentage represents a fair average of the results of non-progressive -prison methods to-day. But while our prisons were practically at a -standstill and crime was on the increase the world was moving, new ideas -were in the very air, destined to be of no less importance in human -development than the mastery of electricity is proving in the material -world.</p> - -<p>There is an old proverb that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. -Some fifteen years ago the vital truth contained in this old saying -suddenly crystallized into the playground <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>movement. More chance for -recreation, more variety in mental occupation, more fresh air and -sunshine, were strenuously demanded. Not only have playgrounds broken -out even in the midst of our crowded cities, but open-air schools have -sprung into existence in Europe and are gaining in favor in this country -where climate permits. Athletics in all forms have steadily gained in -popularity. Freedom for the body, exercise for every muscle, is not only -advocated by physicians but has become the fashion, until golf is now -the great American pastime, and the benefit of physical recreation is no -longer questioned.</p> - -<p>Even more far-reaching in eventual influence is the modern recognition -of the rights and claims of the individual. This awakening is so -widespread that it cannot be centralized in any personal leadership. It -is like the dawning of a great light upon the life of the twentieth -century in all civilized countries, and already it is affecting -existence in countless directions.</p> - -<p>In the army the common soldier is no longer regarded as merely a -shooting-machine, he is drilled and trained and schooled into -development as a man as well as a soldier. In the treatment of the -insane, physical restraint is gradually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> being relegated to the past; -the patient is regarded first of all as a human being, not merely as a -case. More and more the individual needs are studied and individual -talents brought into activity. In schools for the mentally defective the -very foundation of the methods and aims is to promote the development of -the individual, to draw out to the utmost whatever rudiments of ability -the child may possess and to keep the light turned steadily on the -normal rather than the abnormal in his nature. Physicians, -psychologists, and educators alike are realizing the importance of -adapting methods to the needs of the individual.</p> - -<p>Child-study—unfortunately, in many cases the study of text-books rather -than of the living child in the family, but child-study in some -form—prevails among the mothers of to-day. The gifted Madame -Montessori, from both the scientific and the humanitarian standpoint, is -emphasizing the importance of giving the child freedom for -self-expression. In the suffrage movement we have another evidence of -the same impulse toward recognition of individual rights. It comes to us -from every direction, even from the battle-field where the Red Cross -nurse sees neither friend nor foe, only a suffering man needing her -care.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>Here we have two great forces: nature's imperative demand for more -freedom for the body, more of God's sunshine and fresh air; and the -still more imperative demand from the spirit in man for recognition and -release. The two forces unite in the one demand, <i>Pro sanitate totius -hominis</i>—for the health of the whole man.</p> - -<p>Some thirty years ago Richard Dugdale, a large-hearted, large-brained -student of sociology, had the courage to state that the great blunder of -society in dealing with criminals began with shutting up so many of them -within our prisons, practically enslaving them to the state, depriving -them of all rewards for their labor and often throwing their families -upon public taxation for support; even in many cases making the -punishment fall more heavily upon innocent relatives than upon the -offenders themselves. He believed, however, that there would be a -residue of practically irreclaimable criminals whose permanent removal -from society was necessary, but that life for this class should be made -as nearly normal as possible. Richard Dugdale was a man of prophetic -insight, with a clear vision of the whole question of social -economics—social duties as well. Unfortunately, his death soon followed -the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>publication of his articles. But time is making his dreams come -true, and vindicating the soundness of his theories. Even during the -lifetime of this man spasmodic efforts were made in placing men on -probation after a first offence instead of sending them to prison.</p> - -<p>With the introduction of the juvenile courts early in the present -century this idea assumed practical form; and Judge Lindsey, of Denver, -gave such impetus to the movement to save young offenders from the -demoralizing influence of jails and miscalled reformatories that this -example has been followed in all directions, and thousands of boys have -been rescued from criminal life. "Save the boys and girls" appealed -directly to the masses, and this ounce of prevention was indorsed with -little opposition.</p> - -<p>But when the extension of the probation privilege to include adult -offenders—still further to reduce the prison population—was advocated -the public held back, fearing danger to society in allowing these older -lawbreakers to escape the legal penalties of their offences. However, -the current of progress was not to be stemmed, and adult probation has -been legalized in many States. The results have been satisfactory beyond -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>expectation, showing an average of less than five per cent of men -released on probation reverting to crime, against forty per cent of -reversions after a term in a non-progressive penitentiary.</p> - -<p>This adult probation law confers upon the judge not mandatory but -discretionary power, and the character of the judge plays a part not -less important than the character of the offender; the application of -the law is primarily a relation of man to man; the unjust judge will be -unjust still, the timid judge will avoid taking risks; in the very human -side in which lies the strength of this course lie also its limitations.</p> - -<p>Now the very foundation of the probation idea is the recognition of the -individual character of the offender and the circumstances leading to -the crime. But no sooner was the adult probation law in force than the -claim of the individual from another direction began to be recognized. -Curiously enough, in legal proceedings against criminals the injured -party had been entirely ignored—according to the old English precedent. -It was not the crime of man against man but the crime of man against the -state, the violation of a state law, that was punished. To the mind of -the criminal a crime against the state was but a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> vague and indefinite -abstraction, except in case of murder unlikely to cause remorse, or any -feeling of responsibility toward the person injured. If the injured -party were revengeful he had the satisfaction of knowing that the -criminal was punished; but the sending of the delinquent to prison -deprived him of all opportunity for reparation.</p> - -<p>An interesting thing begins to happen when the judge is given power to -put a man on probation. At last the injury to the individual is taken -into consideration. Here is an actual instance in point.</p> - -<p>"Five thousand dollars was embezzled from a Los Angeles theatre and -dissipated in high living by a man twenty-one years old. He confessed -and received this sentence from the judge:</p> - -<p>"'You shall stay at home nights. You shall remain within the limits of -this county. You shall not play billiards or pool, frequent cafés or -drink intoxicating liquors, and you shall go immediately to work and -keep at it till you pay back every dollar that you stole. Violate these -terms and you go to prison.'"<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<p>This practice of making restitution one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> conditions of probation -is spreading rapidly. Here we have a method hitherto unapproached of -securing all-round, common-sense justice, directly in line also with -sound social economics. Mr. Morrison Swift has well said of a term in -prison that "it breaks the current between the man and life, so that -when he emerges it is hard to form connections again. He has lost his -job, and too often health, nerve, and self-respect are impaired. These -obstacles to reformation are swept away when a man retains his -connection with the community by working in it like anybody else."</p> - -<p>Another factor in the scheme of probation is that it brings the -delinquent directly in touch with a friendly, guiding, and helping hand, -placing him at once under good influences; for it is the duty of the -probation officer to secure for his charge environment calculated to -foster reformation: he becomes indeed his brother's keeper.</p> - -<p>While modern ideas have thus been applied in the rescue of the -individual before he has become identified with criminal life, even more -marked has been the invasion of recent movements into the very -stronghold of the penitentiary itself.</p> - -<p>The twentieth century marks the beginning of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> the crusade against -tuberculosis. Physicians, philanthropists, and legislators combined -against the fearful ravages of this enemy to the very life of the -people. Generous appropriations were given by the state for the cure of -the disease and every effort was made to trace the sources of the evil. -And then it transpired that, while the state with her left hand was -establishing out-of-door colonies for the treatment of tuberculosis, -with her right hand she was maintaining laboratories for the culture of -the fatal germs, and industriously scattering the seeds in localities -where they would be most fruitful. In other words, the very walls of our -prisons had become beds of infection. Doctor J. B. Ransome, of New York -State, finds that from forty to sixty per cent of the deaths in all -prisons are from tuberculosis; at times the mortality has run as high as -eighty per cent. He tells us also that in the United States to-day there -are twenty thousand tubercular prisoners, most of whom will return to -the congested districts and stuffy tenements where the disease is most -rapidly and virulently spread.<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p>He urges as of the utmost importance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> <i>that infected prisons be -destroyed</i>, and that convicts be given work in the open air when -possible; and that light, air, exercise, more nourishing food, and more -healthful conditions generally be substituted for the disease-breeding -conditions under which prisons have always existed. Thus, apart from all -humanitarian considerations, public health demands radical changes in -prisons and in the lives of the prisoners.</p> - -<p>The automobile, the autocrat of the present day, has little of the -missionary spirit; but it has made its imperious demand for good roads -all over the country, and legislation now authorizing convict labor on -State roads is not only responding to this demand but is partly solving -the vexed problem of the employment of convicts.</p> - -<p>How far the men responsible for the revolution in the management of -prisoners have studied these trends of the times I do not know. Most of -these men have doubtless builded better than they knew. All the winds of -progress, moving from every direction, seem to be concentrating in one -blast destined to crumble the walls of our prisons as the walls of -Jericho are said to have crumbled under the blast of the trumpets of the -hosts of the Lord. It may even be that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> the hosts of the Lord are back -of these winds of progress.</p> - -<p>The introduction of this reform movement required men of exceptional -force and ability, and in answer to this demand just such men are coming -to the front. The United States has already developed a remarkable line -of captains of industry, but not less remarkable men are taking this -humanitarian field to-day.</p> - -<p>The pioneer in revolutionizing prison-management was neither penologist -nor philanthropist. The first step was taken for purely practical ends. -It happened, when the twentieth century had just begun, that Mr. John -Cleghorne, a newly appointed warden of a Colorado penitentiary, found -that the State had provided neither cells nor workshops within the -prison for the number of convicts sentenced to hard labor. To meet this -exigency this warden decided to put a number of men to work outside the -walls, organizing a camp and putting the men, then in striped clothing, -on their honor not to escape. The experiment was altogether successful; -but so quietly carried on that it received little attention outside the -borders of its own State until the appointment of the next warden, -Thomas J. Tynan, who recognized the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> beginning of true reform in the -treatment of convicts and openly advocated the changes from humanitarian -motives.</p> - -<p>While to Colorado is given the precedence in this movement, a notable -feature is the nearly simultaneous expression of feeling and ideas -practically the same in widely separated localities, from the Pacific -coast to the Atlantic, and even on the shores of Panama. Naturally the -movement started in the West, in newer States less trammelled by -precedent than the older States, where traditions of prison discipline -had been handed down for two centuries; but the time was ripe for the -change and it has been brought about through men, some of them trained -penologists, others practical men of affairs, but all united in faith in -human nature and in the one aim of fitting the men under their -jurisdiction for self-supporting, law-abiding citizenship.</p> - -<p>Sceptics as to the effect on the prisoner of this liberalizing tendency -are silenced by the amazing response on the part of the convicts in -every prison where the honor system has been applied. This response is -unquestionable: a spirit of mutual confidence is displacing one of -suspicion and discouragement, and in supplanting the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> antagonism to -prison authorities by a hearty sense of co-operation with them an -inestimable point in prison discipline is gained. We hear much these -days of the power of suggestion, and the suggestion, conscious and -unconscious, permeating the very atmosphere of these progressive prisons -is hopeful and helpful.</p> - -<p>Never before in the tragic history of prisons has a spiritual force been -applied to the control of prisoners; and yet with one consent the first -step taken by these progressive wardens is to place convicts on their -honor: not chains and shackles, not bolts and bars, no form of physical -restraint; but a force indefinable, impalpable, invisible, applied to -the spirit of these men. In bringing this force to bear on their charges -these wardens have indeed "hitched their wagon to a star."</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Morrison I. Swift, <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, August, 1911.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, August, 1911.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> - -<p>And the time came, in 1913, when the wave of revolution in prison -methods struck the penitentiary which formed the background of the lives -pictured within these pages. Back of all my friendships with these men -had loomed the prison under the old methods, casting its dark shadow -across their lives. Many of them died within the walls; others came out -only to die in charity hospitals, or to take up the battle of life with -enfeebled health and enfeebled powers of resistance and endurance. -Almost as one man they had protected me from the realization of what -they endured in the punishment cells—from what the physical conditions -of prison life really were; but I knew far more than they thought I -did—as much as I could endure to know—and in our interviews we -understood that it was useless to discuss evils which I was powerless to -help; and then, too, I always tried to make those interviews oases in -the desert of their lives. But across my own heart also the shadow of -the prison lay all those years. Into the bright melody of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> June -morning the sudden thought of the prison would crash with cruel discord; -at times everything most bright and beautiful would but the more sharply -accent the tragedy of prison life. Deep below the surface of my thought -there was always the consciousness of the prison; but, on the other -hand, this abiding consciousness made the ordinary trials and annoyances -inseparable from human life seem of little moment, passing clouds across -the sunlight of a more fortunate existence; and I was thankful that from -my own happy hours I could glean some ray of brightness to pour into -lives utterly desolate. So absolutely did I enter into the prison life -that even to-day it forms one of the most vivid chapters of my personal -experience. Accordingly, my point of view of the change in the prison -situation cannot be altogether that of the outsider. <i>I know</i> what this -change means to the men within the walls; for in feeling, I too have -been a prisoner.</p> - -<p>A little paper lies before me, the first number of a new monthly -publication from behind the bars of the prison I know so well. In its -pages is mirrored a new dispensation—the new dispensation sweeping with -irresistible force from State to State. Too deep for words was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> -thankfulness that filled my heart as I tried to realize that at last the -day had come when <i>prisoners were recognized as men</i>, and that this -blessed change had come to my own State. I knew it was on the way; I -knew that things were working in the right direction; I had even talked -with the new warden about some of these very changes; but here it was in -black and white, over the signatures of the warden, his deputy, two -chaplains, the prison doctor, and several representatives of the -prisoners themselves: all bearing witness to the new order of things; to -the facts already accomplished and to plans for the betterment of -existing conditions. Of the fifteen hundred convicts fifty have been for -several months employed on State roads under the supervision of two -unarmed guards. The fifty men were honor men and none have broken faith. -Two hundred more honor men will be sent out in the same way during the -summer of 1914. Another three hundred will work on the prison farm of -one thousand acres, erecting farm buildings and raising garden and farm -products for the prison and the stock, and gaining health for themselves -in a life practically free during working hours.</p> - -<p>To the men inside the prison walls the routine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> of daily life is wholly -altered. No longer do they eat in silence with downcast eyes; the table -is a meeting-place of human beings where talk flows naturally. No longer -is life one dull round from prison cell to shop, where talk and -movements of relaxation are forbidden; and back in silent march to -prison cell, with never a breath of fresh air except on the march to and -from the shops. This monotony is now broken by a recreation hour in the -open air every day, given in turn to companies of the men taken from the -workshops in which exchange of remarks is now allowed. In pleasant -weather this recreation is taken in games or other diversions involving -exercise. "Everything goes but fighting" is the liberal permission, and -recreation in cold weather takes the form of marching.</p> - -<p>From October to May, for five hours in the day, six days in the week, -school is in session in four separate rooms, the highest classes -covering the eighth grade of our public schools. Any prisoner may absent -himself from work one hour a day if desiring to attend the school, and -can pursue his studies in his cell evenings. Competent teachers are -found among the prisoners, and no guard is present during instruction -hours. Arrangements<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> are now on foot for educational correspondence -connected with the State university.</p> - -<p>The time given to recreation and to education has not lessened the -output of the shops; on the contrary, the new spirit pervading the -prison has so energized the men, so awakened their ambition, that more -and better work is done in the shops than before. The grade of -"industrial efficiency" recently introduced serves as a further -incentive to skill and industry and will secure special recommendation -for efficiency when the men are free to take their own places in the -world.</p> - -<p>Nor is this all; for each prisoner as far as is practicable is assigned -work for which he is individually fitted. Men educated as physicians are -transferred from the shops to the staff of hospital assistants; honor -men qualified for positions where paid attendants have hitherto been -employed are transferred to these positions, thus reducing expenses. -Honor men having mechanical faculty are permitted during the evenings in -their cells to make articles, the sale of which gives them a little -money independently earned. Also in some of the prison shops the workers -are allowed a share in the profits. It is the warden's aim to utilize as -far as possible individual talent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> among his wards, to give every man -every possible chance to earn an honest living on his release; to make -the prison, as he puts it, "a school of citizenship." To every cell is -furnished a copy of the Constitution of the United States and of the -State in which the prison is located, with the laws affecting criminals. -Further instructions relating to American citizenship are given, and are -especially valuable to foreigners.</p> - -<p>But helpful as are all these changes in method, the real heart of the -change, the vital transforming quality is in the personal relation of -the warden to his wards. In conferences held in the prison chapel the -warden makes known his views and aims, speaking freely of prison -matters, endeavoring to inspire the men with high ideals of conduct and -to secure their intelligent and hearty co-operation for their present -and their future. Here it is also that the men are free to make known -their prison troubles, sure of the warden's sympathetic consideration of -means of adjustment. Heart and soul the warden is devoted to his work, -never losing sight of his ultimate aim of restoring to society -law-abiding citizens, but also feeling the daily need of these prisoners -for encouragement and for warm human sympathy.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Fielding-Hall, after many years of practical experience with -criminals, reached the conclusion that humanity and compassion are -essential requisites in all attempts "to cure the disease of crime," and -the curative power of sympathy is old as the hills; it began with the -mother who first kissed the place to make it well; and from that day to -this the limit to the power of sympathy has never been compassed, when -sympathy is not allowed to evaporate as an emotion, but, hardened into a -motive, becomes a lever to raise the fallen.</p> - -<p>It is largely owing to the sympathy of the present warden that light and -air have come into the moral and mental atmosphere of this prison. In -the natures of the men qualities hitherto dormant and undiscovered have -come to the surface and are in the ascendant, aroused by the warden's -appeal to their manhood; and the warden's enthusiasm is the spark that -has touched the spirit of the subordinate officials and has fused into -unison the whole administration. And the warden is fortunate in the -combination of men working with him. His deputy, the disciplinarian of -the place, served for twenty-five years on the police force of Chicago, -a position<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> directly antagonized to crime and yet affording exceptional -opportunity for the study of criminals. True to his colors as a -protector of society, he now feels that society is best protected -through the reclamation of those who have broken its laws; he believes -that the true disciplinarian is not the one who punishes most severely -but the one who trains his charges to join hands with him in the -maintenance of law and order within their little community; and he has -already reduced the punishment record for violation of rules to scarcely -more than one-tenth of former averages; and the shackling of men in the -punishment cells is abolished.</p> - -<p>The prison physician is an up-to-date man, fully in accord with the -views of the warden, and with admirable hospital equipment where -excellent surgical work is done when required. The two chaplains have a -missionary field of the highest opportunities, where a sympathetic -friendship for the prisoner during six days in the week becomes the -highway to their hearts on the seventh.</p> - -<p>The faces of the prisoners bear witness to the life-giving influences at -work among them; the downcast apathy has given place to an expression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> -of cheerful interest, and the prison pallor to a healthful color. And -the old prison buildings—the living tomb of hundreds of men—are -themselves now doomed. On the adjacent farm the prisoners will -eventually build new quarters, either one modern prison into which God's -sunlight and the free air of heaven will have access, or, better still, -a prison village, a community in detached buildings, after the plan -which has proven so satisfactory in other State institutions.</p> - -<p>And what of the women sent to prison in this State? For fifteen years -and more they have been housed in a separate institution. This has never -been a place of degradation. Every inmate has a light, well-ventilated, -outside room, supplied with simple furnishings and toilet conveniences; -white spreads cover the beds, and the home touch is evident in the -photographs and fancy-work so dear to the heart of woman. The prisoners -in their dress of blue-and-white check are neat and trim in appearance -as maids from Holland. They number but sixty-five, and conversation is -allowed.</p> - -<p>The women have a recreation playground for open-air exercise and an -assembly-room for evening entertainments. They are given industrial<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> -training and elementary education; and though the discipline is firm the -life is kept normal as possible; and wilful violation of rules seldom -occurs. The present superintendent is a woman of exceptional -qualifications for the position—a woman of quick, responsive -sympathies, and wide experience, with fine executive ability. A -<i>thorough</i> course in domestic science is fitting the women for domestic -service or future home-making, and some of them are skilled in fine -needle-work and embroidery.</p> - -<p>The lines in the old picture of prison life so deeply etched into my -consciousness are already fading; for while I know that in too many -States the awakening has not come, and the fate of the prisoner is still -a blot on our civilization, <i>the light has broken and the way is clear</i>. -Not only in my own State but to every State in the Union the death-knell -of the old penitentiary, with its noisome cells and dark dungeons, has -struck. The bloodless revolution of the reform movement is irresistible -simply because it is in line with human progress.</p> - -<p>Not until the present generation of criminals has passed away can -adequate results of the widespreading change in prison management be -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>expected; for a large percentage of our convicts to-day are the product -of crime-breeding jails, reformatories, and prisons. The "incorrigibles" -are all men who have been subjected to demoralizing and brutalizing -influences. In the blood-curdling outbreaks of gunmen and train-holdups -society is but reaping the harvest of evils it has allowed. Not until -police stations, jails, workhouses, reformatories, and prisons <i>are all -radically changed</i> can any fair estimate be made of the value of the -recent humane methods.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> - -<p>The basic principle of reform in those who prey upon society is the -changing of energies destructive into energies constructive. It is the -opening of fresh channels for human forces. Change of environment, the -breaking of every association connected with criminal pursuits, life in -the open in contrast with the tainted atmosphere of crowded tenements -and dance halls—all this has a healthful, liberating influence on the -mind; abnormal obsessions are relaxed, different brain-cells become -active, and the moral fibre of the man as well as his physical being -absorbs vital elements. That the laborer is entitled to a share in the -fruits of his labor is true the world over, and industry and efficiency -are stimulated by recognition of the relation of achievement to reward.</p> - -<p>Strict repressive discipline applied to organized enslavement of labor -is in direct violation of all these principles. The penal colony seems a -rational method of dealing with those whose <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>permanent removal from our -midst is deemed necessary. Time and again have penal colonies given -satisfactory solution to the criminal problem. Virginia and Maryland -absorbed the human exports from English courts, and their descendants -joined in the building of a great nation; while the penal colony in -Australia resulted in a civilization of the first rank. While the -deportation of our criminals to-day may be neither practicable nor -desirable, the establishment of industrial penal communities in every -State, on a profit-sharing basis, is both practicable and desirable, and -would unquestionably result in the permanent reform of many who are now -a menace to public safety.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding that progressive wardens are accomplishing all-important -changes in their domains, permanent reform work for convicts demands a -number of concessions in legislation. Until the contract system is -wholly and finally abolished in favor of the state-use system the power -of even the best warden will be limited. With the state-use system and -the prison farm the prisoners have a variety in opportunity of -industrial training almost as great as that offered on the outside.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p><p>That the earnings of prisoners, beyond the cost of their maintenance, -should either be credited to the man himself or sent to the family -dependent upon him is but fair to the prisoner, and would relieve the -county from which he is sent from taxation toward the support of the -man's family. This is so obvious that it is now widely advocated for -both economic and humanitarian reasons, and in several States has -already been adopted.</p> - -<p>Another concession is of still greater importance, since its neglect has -been in direct violation not only of every principle of justice but of -common every-day honesty. This concession is the recognition of the duty -of the state to make what reparation is possible to the man who has -suffered imprisonment for a crime of which he was innocent.</p> - -<p>Years ago, during one of my visits to our penitentiary, a lawyer of wide -experience made the remark: "From what I know of court proceedings I -suppose twenty per cent of these convicts are innocent of the charge for -which they are here." I did not credit that statement, and afterward -repeated it to another lawyer, who said: "I should estimate the -percentage even higher."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> I did not believe that estimate either; nor do -I now believe it. But having worked up the cases and secured the pardons -of two innocent men, and having personally known two other men -imprisoned for crimes in which they took no part, I <i>know</i> that innocent -men are sent to prison. Lawyers are prone to dispose of such instances -with the offhand remark, "Well, they might not have been guilty of that -particular act, but no doubt they had committed crimes for which they -escaped punishment." I have positive knowledge of only those four cases, -but in none of them was the convicted man from the criminal class. -Another remark which I have met is this: "Doubtless there are innocent -men in prison, but there are more guilty ones who escape," which reminds -one of Charles Lamb's admission: "Yes, I am often late to business in -the morning, but then I always go home early in the afternoon." -Plausible as the excuse sounds, it but aggravates the admission.</p> - -<p>It happened some years ago in my own State that a working man was -convicted of killing another. Henry Briggs asserted his innocence, but a -network of plausible evidence was drawn about him and he was sent to -prison for life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> His widowed mother had faith in his innocence and paid -two thousand dollars to lawyers, who promised to secure her son's pardon -but accomplished nothing in that direction. Briggs had been in prison -some ten years when he told his story to me and I believed that he told -the truth. His home town was across the State from me, but I wrote the -ex-sheriff, who was supposed to know all about the case, that the -prisoner's mother would give another thousand dollars to him if he could -secure evidence of Henry's innocence and obtain his pardon. A long and -interesting correspondence followed, and at the end of two years -evidence of the man's innocence was secured and Henry Briggs was a free -man. In his last letter the sheriff wrote me: "To think that all these -twelve years that convicted man had been telling the absolute truth <i>and -it never occurred to any one to believe him</i> until you heard his story." -But that ex-sheriff, who had collected his sheriff's fees and mileage -for taking an innocent man to prison—he was really indebted to the -prisoner for a neat little sum paid by the county—yet that sheriff had -no scruples in taking the thousand dollars from Mrs. Briggs for righting -a wrong which, he frankly admitted to me, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> had taken part in -perpetrating. Now, in common honesty, in dollars and cents, the county -from which Henry was sent owed the Briggs mother and son at least ten -thousand dollars; instead of which the mother was left an impoverished -widow, while the son, with youth and health gone, had to begin life over -again.</p> - -<p>When men are maimed for life in a railroad accident the owners of the -road are obliged to pay a good round sum in compensation. The employer -is liable for damages when an employee is injured by defective -machinery; but to the victims of our penal machinery no compensation is -made by the state, at whose hands the outrage was committed. It is true -that the injured party is at liberty to bring suit against the -individual who charged him with the crime, but as the burned child -dreads the fire so the innocent man convicted of a crime dreads the -courts.</p> - -<p>But we are waking up to a sense of this most cruel robbery; the robbery -of a man's liberty, his earnings, his reputation, and too often his -health; and we are coming to see that compensation from the state, on -receiving convincing evidence of the man's innocence, is only the man's -just due—is even far less than fair play.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p><p>To Wisconsin belongs the honor of taking the lead in this most -important reform, since in 1913 Wisconsin passed a law insuring -compensation in money from the State in every case where proof could be -furnished that one was not guilty of the crime for which he had suffered -imprisonment. A more just and righteous law was never passed. Money -alone can never compensate for unjust imprisonment, but the only -atonement possible is financial compensation and public vindication.</p> - -<p>The measures so far considered are all remedial; but while we have -recently made rapid progress in measures applied after men have been -sent to prison we have thought little of preventive measures. And just -here we face again the spirit of the times.</p> - -<p>All along the latter half of the nineteenth century men of -science—chemists, biologists, physicians—were studying preventive -measures to stem the tide of evil in the form of disease. Previously -medical science had been directed chiefly to battling with diseased -conditions already developed; but under the leadership of Pasteur and -Lord Lister the medical world was aroused to the fact that it was -possible to avert the terrible ravages<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> of many of the diseases which -fifty years earlier had been accepted as visitations from Providence. -Henceforth "preventive measures" became watchwords among men devoting -themselves to the physical welfare of the race; and "preventive -measures" have also a most important relation to the moral welfare of -the community, and the way is opening for their application.</p> - -<p>For instance, the imprisonment of innocent men would be largely -prevented by the abolition of all fees in connection with arrests and -convictions. The system of rewards for arrests and convictions is -absolutely demoralizing to justice; for as long as the whole battalion -of men employed to protect the public have a direct financial interest -in the increase of crime it is unreasonable to expect decrease in the -number of men confined in our jails and prisons. An official inspector -of jails and police stations in my own State reports that she has -frequently had police officers admit to her that it was a great -temptation to arrest some poor devil, since the city paid fees for such -arrests; and she further states that in Chicago the entire basis of the -city penal administration is fees, and she adds: "What better inducement -could be offered to officials to penalize some unoffending<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> stranger -looking for work?" All the evils arising from this abominable and -indefensible arrangement would be in a measure decreased by the simple -process of abolishing fees and increasing salaries. This has already -been done in some localities; and doubtless the coming generation will -wonder how the feeing system could ever have been adopted or tolerated.</p> - -<p>The most impregnable stronghold of inhumanity in dealing with persons -suspected of connection with crime is our police stations; especially is -this so in our larger cities. The police station and the feeing system -are the parent of one most barbarous custom; an evil most elusive, its -roots, like the roots of the vicious bindweed, so far underground, with -such complicated entanglement of relationships, as to be almost -ineradicable, involving in some instances State attorneys of good -standing, detectives, policemen, sheriffs—in fact, more or less -involving the whole force of agents supposed to be protectors of the -public. This abuse is called <i>the third degree</i>, or <i>the sweat-box</i>.</p> - -<p>A man is arrested, accused of a crime or of knowledge of a crime. Before -he is given any trial in any court unscrupulous means are resorted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> to -in order to extort an admission of crime or complicity in crime—or even -of knowledge connected with a crime.</p> - -<p>A physician who knew all the circumstances recently called my attention -to the case of a woman supposed to have some knowledge that might -implicate her husband in a burglary. The woman was an invalid. After -being kept for forty-eight hours without food or water, forced to walk -when she seemed likely to fall asleep from exhaustion, she was told that -her husband had deserted her, taken her child, and gone off with another -woman. She was by this time in a frantic condition, and when told that -her torture would cease with her admission of her husband's guilt, too -distracted to question his desertion of her, she gave false evidence -against her husband and was set free.</p> - -<p>The husband was in no way implicated in the crime, but the consequences -of the affair were disastrous to his business. He had never thought of -deserting his wife, but it was part of the scheme of the <i>third degree</i> -to keep the husband and the lawyer whom he had engaged from seeing the -woman until the end sought was accomplished.</p> - -<p>A young lawyer told me of a most revolting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> <i>third degree</i> scene -witnessed by him, and he told me the story as an instance of the -cleverness which devised a terrible nervous shock in order to throw a -supposedly guilty woman off her guard; the shock was enough to have -driven the woman raving insane.</p> - -<p>Whenever I have spoken of this subject to those familiar with -<i>sweat-box</i> methods, the evil has been frankly admitted and -unhesitatingly condemned, but I hear always the same thing: "Yes, we -know that it is a terrible abuse, but we have not been able to prevent -it." It is simply a public crime that such a system should be tolerated -for one day. Mr. W. D. Howells has well said: "The law and order which -defy justice and humanity are merely organized anarchy."</p> - -<p>I have not hesitated to brand my own State with this <i>third-degree</i> -evil, but I understand it is practised also in other States on the -pretext that the end justifies the means—but what if the end is the -life imprisonment of an innocent man? I have in mind a young man who was -subjected to four days of <i>sweat-box</i> torture. At the end of that time, -when even death by hanging offered at least a respite from his -tormentors, he signed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> a statement, drawn up by those tormentors, to the -effect that he was guilty of murder. The boy was only eighteen, but was -sent to prison for life, though it now seems likely that he had nothing -to do with the crime. However, it is difficult to secure pardon for a -man sent to prison on his own confession; and there is just where the -injustice is blackest: it cuts from under a man's feet all substance in -a subsequent declaration of innocence, <i>for it stands on the records of -the case that he confessed his guilt</i>.</p> - -<p>There are of course many cases where the <i>third degree</i> is not resorted -to; indeed, its use seems to be mainly confined to the cities where -police stations are a ring within a ring. In smaller towns after the -arrest is made the case usually comes to trial with no previous -unauthorized attempt to induce the prisoner to convict himself, and, if -the accused is a man of means who can employ an able lawyer, the trial -becomes a game between the opposing lawyers, and both sides have at -least a fair chance. Not so when the court appoints a lawyer for the -poor man. The prosecution then plays the game with loaded dice; for it -is the custom for the court to appoint the least experienced fledgling -in the profession.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> Los Angeles, Cal., has recently introduced an -admirable measure to secure a nearer approach to justice in the courts -for the poor man, by the appointment of a regular district attorney for -the defence of accused persons who are unable to pay for a competent -lawyer. This appointment of a public defender has been made solely with -the aim of securing justice for the poor and for the ignorant foreigner; -it is a most encouraging step in the right direction, and seems a -hopeful means of exterminating the <i>sweat-box</i> system.</p> - -<p>We cannot hope to accomplish much with preventive measures until we -frankly face the causes of the evils we would reduce. That the saloon is -a prolific source of crime the records of all the courts unquestionably -prove; it is also one of the causes of the poverty which in its turn -becomes a cause of crime. The saloon is wholly in the hands of the -public, to be modified, controlled, or abolished according to the -dictates of the majority. This is not so easy as it sounds, but when we -realize that while the saloon-keeper reaps all the profits of his -business it is the taxpayer who is obliged to pay the expense of the -crimes resulting from that business, the question becomes one of public -economy as well as of public<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> morals. The force which makes for social -evolution is bound to win in the long run, and the gradual elimination -of the saloon as it stands to-day is inevitable; and certain it is that -with the control of the saloon evil there will be a marked reduction in -the number of crimes committed.</p> - -<p>The criminal ranks receive annual reinforcement from a number of sources -now tolerated by a long-suffering public. We still have our army of -tramps, caused in part by defective management of county jails where men -are supported in enforced idleness at the expense of the working -community; the result also of unstable industrial conditions and far -greater competition, since women, by cutting wages, have so largely -taken possession of industrial fields. Constitutional restlessness and -aversion to steady work also cause men and boys to try the easy if -precarious tramp life; and in hard-luck times the slip into crime comes -almost as a matter of course.</p> - -<p>The trail of the banishment of the tramp evil has already been blazed -through Belgium, Holland, and Switzerland by the development of the farm -colony to which every tramp is rigidly sent. There he is subjected to an -industrial training<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> involving recognition of individual ability, and -development along the lines to which he is best adapted. These farm -colonies are schools of industry where every man is obliged to work for -his living while there, and is fitted to earn a living when he leaves. -The results of these measures have been altogether satisfactory, and we -have but to adapt their methods to conditions in this country to -accomplish similar results. The elimination of the tramp is a necessary -safeguard to the community; and to the tramp himself it is rescue from -cumulative degradation.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fielding-Hall, an Englishman, at one time magistrate, later warden -of the largest prison in the world, and the most radical of -humanitarians, after years of exhaustive study of the causes of crime, -declares that society alone is responsible. He adds: "It is no use -saying that criminals are born, not made; they are made and they are -made by society." And it is true that in every community where human -beings are herded in foul tenements, herded in crowded, unsanitary -factories, or live their days underground in mines, we shall continue to -breed a class mentally, morally, and physically defective, some of whom -will inevitably be subject to criminal outbreaks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> Poverty causes ill -health, and malnutrition saps the power of self-control.</p> - -<p>Medical science is even now telling us that there is probably no form of -criminal tendency unrelated to physiological defects: brain-cells -poisoned by disease; brain-cells defective either through heredity—as -in the offspring of the feeble-minded—or enfeebled through malnutrition -in childhood, the offspring of want; brains slightly out of balance; -and, more rarely, the criminal impulse developed as the result of direct -injury to the brain caused by a blow. Crimes are also committed under -temporary abnormal conditions such as "dual personality" or double -consciousness. In this diagnosis of crime we find ourselves next door to -a hospital; and this class of criminals does closely parallel what -alienists call "borderland cases," while the unscientific penologist has -carelessly classified them as "degenerates." Physicians tell us that -when Lombroso was studying "types," if he had invaded the charity -hospitals of large cities he would have found the same stunted, -undernourished, physically defective specimens of humanity that he -stigmatized as the "criminal type."</p> - -<p>Of two prisoners whom I knew well one was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> subject to slight attacks of -catalepsy, the other to epilepsy; each of these men had committed a -murder, and each said to me the same thing: "I had no reason to kill -that person and <i>I don't know why I did it</i>." Both these men were -religious and extremely conscientious; but when the "spells" came on -them they were irresponsible as a leaf blown by the wind; and while -passionately regretting their deeds of horror they seemed always to -regard the act as <i>something outside themselves</i>.</p> - -<p>None of us yet understand the interaction between the mental and -physical in the nature of man, but the fact of this interdependence is -clear; and while progressive prison wardens are sifting the human -material thrown into their hands, giving comparative freedom to "honor -men," and industrial training and elementary education to those within -the walls, they do not ignore the fact that there is a residue—they are -in all our prisons—a residue of men who cannot stand alone morally; -handicapped by causes for which they may not be responsible they cannot -hope to be "honor men" for they are moral invalids—often mental -invalids as well. That they should be kept under restraint goes without -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>saying. They need the control of a firm yet flexible hand, and they -should be under direct medical supervision; for back of their crimes may -be causes other than bad blood.<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>Improved factory laws, better housing of the poor, the enforcement of -regulations for public hygiene, the application of some of the saner -theories of eugenics, the work of district nurses, all these are on the -way to reduce the number of diseased or abnormal individuals who fall so -readily into crime. Already we have several recorded instances when a -blow on the head had caused uncontrollable criminal impulses, where -skilful brain surgery removed the pressure, and with the restoration of -the normal brain the nature of the individual recovered its moral -balance. Every large city should have its psychopathic detention -hospital in connection with its courts, to be resorted to in all cases -where there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> is doubt of the responsibility of any person accused of -crime, and every large penitentiary should have its psychopathic -department for men sent to prison from smaller towns.</p> - -<p>But when all is said and done, when the main sources of crime are -recognized and controlled, when sound sociology unites with Christianity -as the basis of management in every prison, when the "criminal type" of -Lombroso has been finally consigned to the limbo of exploded theories, -crime will still be with us, simply because human nature is human -nature; and whatever else human nature may be it <i>is</i> a violent -explosive, whether we agree with Saint Paul as to "the old Adam" or -believe with the evolutionist that we are slowly emerging from the brute -and that the beast of prey still sleeps within us—not sleeping but -rampant in men and women allied in white-slave traffic and in those -responsible for the wholesale slaughter of mankind and the destruction -of property caused by war. Nothing short of the complete regeneration of -human nature can banish crime; and after we who call ourselves "society" -have done our best human nature will continue to break out in lawless -acts. As long as we have poverty in our midst desperate want will revolt -in desperate deeds, and poverty we shall have until the race<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> has -reached a higher average of thrift and efficiency, and industrial -conditions are developed on a basis of fairness to all; and where there -is a weak link in the moral nature of a man undue pressure of -temptation, brought to bear on that link, will cause it to break, even -while in his heart the man may be hungering and thirsting for -righteousness. When the science of eugenics has given its helping hand -it will still be baffled by the appearance of the proverbial black sheep -in folds where heredity and environment logically should have produced -snowy fleece; and who among us dare assert that no infusion of bad blood -discolors his own tangled ancestry?</p> - -<p>All the evils of poverty, vice, and crime are but expressions of -imperfection of the human nature common to us all. The warp of the -fabric is the same, various as are the colors and tones, and the -strength of the threads of which the individual lives are woven. Whether -or not we realize it, all our efforts toward social reform indicate a -growing consciousness of the oneness of humanity.</p> - -<p>With all our imperfections, is not human nature sound at heart? Do we -not love that which seems to us good and hate the apparent evil? We do -not realize the insidious working of evil in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>ourselves; but when it is -revealed to us objectively, when it is thrown into relief by an outbreak -of evil deeds in others, our healthy instinctive impulse is to crush it. -Surely back of the religious and the legal persecutions has been the -desire to exterminate apparent evil; that desire is still with us but we -are learning better methods of handling it than to unleash the -bloodhounds of cruelty. We are beginning to understand that evil can be -conquered only by good.</p> - -<p>As the words of the Founder of Christianity first led me into my prison -experience, after all these years of study of the subject I find myself -coming out at the same door wherein I went, and believing that every -theory of social reform, including all the 'ologies, resolves itself in -the last analysis to a wise conformity to the Golden Rule. On the -fly-leaf of a little note-book which I carried when visiting the -penitentiary were pencilled these words: "The Christian religion is the -ministry of love and common sense," and I have lived to see the teaching -of Christianity forming the basis of prison reform, and science clasping -the hand of religion in this relation of man to man. Henceforth I shall -believe that <i>nothing is too good to be true</i>, not even the coming of -universal peace.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> The relation of the criminal to the defective and the -insane had been clear to me for many years, and I could not understand -the disregard of the courts to any fact so obvious to the student of the -three classes. But most valuable work in this line is now being done by -Dr. J. M. Hickson, of the psychological laboratory operated in -connection with the Chicago municipal court, and the results of his -tests of the mentality of young criminals are now commanding attention. -Dr. Hickson unhesitatingly declares the need of reform in our laws and -our courts. The existence of this psychopathic laboratory is largely due -to Judge Olson, of Chicago, a man of most advanced views on penology, -and a practical humanitarian.</p></div></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Behind the Bars, by Winifred Louise Taylor - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS *** - -***** This file should be named 56112-h.htm or 56112-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/1/1/56112/ - -Produced by ellinora, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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