Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 51065-h.htm or 51065-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/51065/pg51065-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/51065/51065-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/historyromanceof08grif
THE HISTORY AND ROMANCE OF CRIME FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES
TO THE PRESENT DAY
[Illustration]
The Grolier Society
London
[Illustration: _Heidelberg_]
GERMAN AND AUSTRIAN PRISONS
Prisons of Prussia, Bavaria,
Saxony and Austria-Hungary
The Fortresses Of
Magdeburg And Spielberg
by
MAJOR ARTHUR GRIFFITHS
Late Inspector of Prisons in Great Britain
Author of
“The Mysteries of Police and Crime
“Fifty Years of Public Service,” etc.
[Illustration]
The Grolier Society
Edition Nationale
Limited to one thousand registered and numbered sets.
Number 307
INTRODUCTION
Interest in penal matters in Germany and in Austria-Hungary centres
rather in the nature and number of persons who commit crimes than
the methods pursued in bringing them to justice or the places in
which penalties have been imposed. The character and extent of crimes
committed from time to time, attracts us more generally than the
prisons designed and established for their punishment. This is the
more marked because such prisons have not achieved any remarkable
prominence or notoriety. They have been for the most part the ordinary
institutions used for detention, repression and correction, more noted
for the offenders they have held than their own imposing appearance,
architectural pretensions, or the changes they have introduced in the
administration of justice. Only in more recent years, since so-called
penitentiary science has come to the front and the comparative value
of prison systems has been much discussed, have certain institutions
prominence in Germany and become known as model prisons.
These have been erected in various capitals of the empire, to give
effect to new principles in force in the administration of justice.
Among such places we may specify a few, such as Bruchsal in Baden; the
Moabit prison in Berlin; the prison at Zwickau in Saxony; the prisons
of Munich and Nürnberg in Bavaria and of Heilbronn in Württemberg. To
these may be added the prisons of Stein on the Danube, of Marburg on
the Drave, and of Pankraz Nusle near Prague in Austria-Hungary. Many
others might be mentioned which have played an important part in the
development of penitentiary institutions.
The conflict of opinions as to prison treatment has raged continuously
and as yet no uniform plan has been adopted for the whole German
Empire. Each of the constituent states of the great aggregate body
has maintained its independence in penal matters and the right to
determine for itself the best method of punishing crime. At one time,
after 1846, the theory of complete isolation was accepted in all German
states, although the means to carry it into effect were not universally
adopted. Reports from the United States had deeply impressed the
authorities with the merits of solitary confinement, among others the
well known Professor Mittermaier, one of the most notable judicial
authorities of his time. But reaction came with another no less eminent
expert, Von Holtzendorff, whose works on prison administration are
still held in great esteem. After visiting Ireland, he was won over
to the seeming advantages of the progressive system, the gradual
change from complete isolation to comparative freedom, and he strongly
favoured the policy of cellular imprisonment. His proposals laid hold
of the practical German mind, and to-day the scheme of continuous
isolation finds little support; it left its mark, however, in several
prisons which will be referred to in the following pages.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION 5
I. PRINCIPAL PRISONS 13
II. FRIEDRICH VON DER TRENCK AT MAGDEBURG 41
III. NOTORIOUS POISONERS 81
IV. THREE CELEBRATED CASES 106
V. CLEVER IMPOSTORS AND SWINDLERS 137
VI. TYPICAL MURDERERS 173
VII. THE STORY OF A VAGRANT 201
VIII. SOME REMARKABLE PRISONERS 224
IX. SILVIO PELLICO AT SPIELBERG 249
X. BRIGANDAGE AND CRIME IN AUSTRIA-HUNGARY 273
List of Illustrations
HEIDELBERG _Frontispiece_
FRIEDRICH VON DER TRENCK, IN HIS CELL IN
THE STAR FORT _Page_ 52
SILVIO PELLICO AT SPIELBERG “ 256
GERMAN AND AUSTRIAN PRISONS
CHAPTER I
PRINCIPAL PRISONS
The Bruchsal in Baden--The Moabit in Berlin, the prison
Stein--Penal methods in force--Adoption of solitary confinement
not universally accepted--Bruchsal opened in 1848--Penal
methods employed--The annex where prisoners are kept in
association--The Protestant brotherhood and their work in
the Moabit prison--Munich--The work of Obermaier--Bavarian
penal code--Capital Punishment--Long Trials--Case of
Riembauer--Hans Leuss’ account of Celle and his imprisonment
there--Flogging--The “bed of lathes”--Zwickau in Saxony--Humane
treatment in force--Heilbronn--Prison reform in Austrian and
Hungarian prisons--Three new prisons erected in Austria-Hungary.
The cellular prison at Bruchsal in the grand-duchy of Baden was
commenced in 1841 and opened on October 10, 1848. It stands at the
northeast of the town of Bruchsal, on the highway to Heidelberg, in a
pleasant part of the country, enjoying a mild and healthy situation.
Hills rise in the background, while in front stretches the plain of
the Rhine, with its rich fields and wealthy villages. Immediately
adjoining the prison are two larger and two smaller buildings
containing official abodes for the superior and lower officers of the
penitentiary. The main building is a stately edifice, on an elevated
site, and the entire group is surrounded by a wall. This wall, of
considerable thickness and height, is a regular octagon, flanked by
turrets at the angles, which serve above as sentry boxes for the
military posts and below as dark cells. The soldiers who guard the
penitentiary walk about on the wall, which is four hundred feet long
and encloses a plot of ground of more than seven acres.
The discipline imposed at Bruchsal is very severe in character and
it has been found that the rule of isolation cannot be persisted in
for much more than four years. Only nine per cent. of the prisoners
could support so long a term; and the director has reported that after
three years of cellular confinement the muscular fibres become so
weakened that it is almost impossible to expect hard work from those
subjected to it. Bruchsal has an annex or auxiliary establishment
where association is the rule for certain prisoners: First, those who
have undergone six years of cellular confinement, unless they elect
to remain in the cell; second, those who are above seventy years
of age; third, those whose bodily or mental health unfits them for
separation. Industrial and other education go hand in hand at Bruchsal;
the earnings of the inmates at many various trades are substantial and
the prisoners value the teaching of the schoolmaster. The trades are
various, to avoid interference with private labour. The contract system
is not employed, but the prison authorities manufacture goods on their
own account. All needful attention is paid in the Bruchsal prisons,
whether cellular or associated, to hygiene, diet, clothing, bedding and
so forth.
In Prussia, long before the establishment of Bruchsal, the method of
solitary confinement found many advocates, and, beginning in 1846,
several large, separate cell prisons were built. The first, the Moabit,
which was organised by Dr. Wichern, the famous creator of the Hamburg
Raue Haus, is a cellular prison on the “wheel” or radiating plan, with
four wings and 508 cells in all. An interesting feature of the Moabit
is its management by a Protestant brotherhood, that of the Raue Haus,
or Hamburg reformatory, whose members are regularly trained for this
useful work on lines laid down by Dr. Wichern. All the brothers do
not devote themselves to prison management, however, but are sent as
required to various fields of labour.
At Moabit it soon became evident that the separate system was not
suitable, and that secret intercourse among the convicts was not
preventable. The doors of the cells were therefore left open during
working hours, and a number of convicts worked in company. In church,
during exercise, and in school no isolation took place, but silence was
always enforced. On the whole, the Prussian authorities were not in
favour of prolonged isolation. As to the general result, it has been
thought that the cellular system lessened the number of reconvictions,
but that the experience had no lasting effect upon hardened or habitual
criminals. On the other hand, first offenders, or those who had been
tempted by opportunity or carried away by passion, were believed to
have been returned to society changed and reformed after a period of
cellular confinement. Progress continued to be made, although the
introduction of a new system of criminal procedure in 1849 led to such
an increase in the number of sentences that much overcrowding of the
prisons followed. Attention was in consequence directed rather toward
providing further accommodation than to experiments in treatment.
Such reforms as were urgent, including the separation of the sexes
in different buildings, were accomplished, while the building of new
prisons went steadily on and the fine specimens of the Stadtvogtei in
Berlin, the cellular prisons at Ratibor in Silesia and Rendsburg in
Schleswig-Holstein, a cellular police prison at Altona and similar
institutions in other provinces, showed that improvement did not tarry
by the way in Prussia.
Bavaria made the most marked progress, which was worthy of the country
that produced the famous Herr Obermaier, and the great state prison of
Munich is still worked upon the lines he introduced in 1843, although
cellular confinement, which he did not favour, has been to some extent
installed. Obermaier was one of those rare characters, another
Montesinos, who left his mark on prison administration. He was a man
of the same indomitable will and commanding personal influence, who
could work wonders with prisoners and change their natures entirely.
When he assumed charge, the prison of Munich contained some six or
seven hundred prisoners in the worst state of insubordination. They
defied all discipline, although the harshest and most severe had been
tried. They were chained together and to each chain so heavy a weight
was attached that even the strongest found a difficulty in dragging
it along. Soldiers, a hundred of them, were on duty all through the
prison, at the gates, around the walls, in the passages, inside the
work-shops and dormitories; at night, as an additional precaution,
a pack of from twenty to thirty large and savage bloodhounds roamed
at large through the yards. Obermaier called the place “a perfect
pandemonium, comprising within the limits of a few acres, the worst
men, the most slavish vices, and the most heartless tyranny.” By
degrees he relaxed the severity of the discipline, lightened the chains
and sent away the soldiers and the dogs.
The prisoners became humanised and in return for the confidence placed
in them, grew well-behaved. They managed themselves, and public
opinion among them checked flagrant misconduct, all yielding ready
obedience to those of their fellows who were appointed overseers.
If a prisoner was inclined to break a rule, the warning, _es ist
verboten_, was sufficient to deter him. The most satisfactory industry
prevailed, and the prisoners became self-supporting, making their own
clothes, building their own walls, forging their own fetters, and
more especially manufacturing useful articles which found ready sale.
In these employments they earned good wages, part of which was given
to them on discharge. Nor was the conquest thus achieved over these
turbulent spirits merely evanescent, disappearing after release. It was
proved, “on irrefutable evidence,” that about five-sixths of those sent
out from the Munich prison returned to society improved and that the
percentage of relapse was exceedingly small.
Bavaria has four cellular prisons in all; one at Nürnberg and three
others intended to serve the district courts of justice and filled
mostly with prisoners not yet tried. Other prisons are conducted on
the collective system. Many of them are ancient convents and castles,
little suited for the purpose to which they have been converted. Crime
is very prevalent, owing to a generally low standard of morality,
the neglect of education and the rough manners and customs of the
population. The peasants in many parts of the country are in the habit
of carrying long stiletto-like knives at public houses and dancing
places, and murderous conflicts, after nasty quarrels, when grave
injuries are inflicted, are very common.
The penal code of Bavaria, compiled chiefly by Anselm von Feuerbach,
a distinguished criminal jurist, was adopted by the government in
1813, and became the basis of criminal legislation for all the German
states. In Bavaria the peculiar merits and defects of this code
were strongly accentuated. The laws are severe and the punishment
merciless, but blood is never shed until the most minute pains have
been taken to secure proof of guilt. Circumstantial evidence is never
held sufficient to justify the extreme penalty, and sentence of death
cannot be passed unless the culprit has confessed his crime.[1] Two
witnesses are deemed sufficient when they testify to facts seen with
their own eyes, and the statement of one witness is accepted only
as half proof. By far the most important evidence is that given by
the prisoner himself. He is questioned by the examining judge in the
presence of the notary only, who is employed to take down his replies.
The judge seeks to elicit a full statement by suggesting that ample
confession may soften punishment. An attempt is made to entrap the
prisoner into untruthfulness by asking him if he knows the real reason
of his arrest, and if he affects ignorance or gives a false answer he
is gravely admonished and warned that lying will prejudice his case.
All the questions put to him are aimed to mislead him and obtain
unwary admissions inconsistent with innocence. If the prisoner has
replied truthfully, he is closely cross-examined on his own story,
which is twisted and inverted until he is confused into contradicting
and committing himself.
[1] This practice of requiring confession in capital cases doubtless
had its origin in the influence of the Church and the doctrine of the
confession as necessary to absolution.
All this time he is kept in the dark as to the exact nature of the
accusation laid to his charge, and it is illegal for him to seek
enlightenment. He is not furnished with a copy of his own evidence or
of that of the witnesses for or against him. Pitfalls are laid for him
by his unexpected confrontation with an accomplice. If he obstinately
refuses to speak, he is sentenced to bread and water. If it is a murder
charge, he is brought face to face with the bleeding corpse, or it may
be that the decaying remains are exhibited to him. The most curious
feature in the proceedings is their prolixity.
Criminal trials in Bavaria have lasted for years. The reports in one
leading case, that of the priest-murderer Riembauer, filled forty-two
folio volumes. The most minute and searching investigation was made of
the secret motives and inmost feelings of the accused, as well as his
open actions. Feuerbach has written an account of remarkable crimes and
lengthy trials in Germany, and among others tells the story of Francis
Riembauer. He was a parish priest whose first worldly venture was the
purchase of a farm near the village of Lauterbach between Ratisbon
and Landshut, where he lived with the former owners, a widow, Mrs.
Frauenknecht, and her two daughters, Magdalena and Catherine. All were
esteemed by their neighbours. Riembauer passed for a model of apostolic
zeal and charity. Though the son of humble parents, he had a fine
person and was an eloquent preacher. In 1808, after passing with great
distinction the examination for ecclesiastical preferment, he obtained
the benefice of Priel, sold the farm and moved with the Frauenknecht
family to his new parsonage.
Soon after the change, the mother and the elder daughter Magdalena
died. Riembauer then endeavoured to persuade Catherine, the remaining
daughter, to continue to live with him as his housekeeper in her
sister’s place. She refused, however, and left him to take a position
as a domestic in another family. It was noted that for some time
afterward she was subject to periods of great gloom and depression.
Finally she confided to a friend, and then confessed to a priest, that
she was the possessor of a dreadful secret: that Riembauer had murdered
a woman; that she and her mother and sister had witnessed the deed; and
that he had also appropriated the entire fortune of her family. The
priest to whom she confessed counselled silence, but wrote Riembauer
in an attempt to bring about the restoration of the fortune, with no
result.
Catherine was bright and clever and she was not satisfied to let the
matter rest there, but laid the whole story before the tribunal of
Landshut. She was then seventeen years old, but as the Bavarian law
would not allow her to be sworn until she was eighteen, it was not
until the following year, 1814, that her deposition was taken. She
testified that several years before a woman had called at their house
to see Riembauer, who was then absent. A few months later the woman
returned, and at that time the priest took her up to his room. She had
not been there long when the sound of crying reached the family below.
They hastened up-stairs and heard Riembauer say, “My girl; repent your
sins, for you must die.” And on looking through the keyhole, they
were horrified to behold the man bending over the woman in the act of
choking her.
When Riembauer came out, he told them that this woman had borne him a
child and had asked him for money, threatening to denounce him to his
ecclesiastical superiors if he refused, and that he had killed her.
Catherine’s mother and sister threatened to reveal his secret but were
prevailed upon to keep silence out of respect for his office, and soon
after both died very suddenly and under suspicious circumstances.
Riembauer was arrested as a result of Catherine’s accusation, and gave
his own version of the murder, acknowledging that he knew the woman
whom he said he had promised a position as cook, but stating that Mrs.
Frauenknecht and her daughter Magdalena had committed the crime. He
knew nothing, of course, at that time of the deposition against him.
During a period of three years, examination followed examination. He
was confronted with the skull of his victim, and every possible method
was tried to shake his testimony, but it was not until October, 1817,
that Riembauer, broken physically and mentally, confessed to having
murdered Anna Eichstaedter. His confession contained the statement of a
remarkable “code of honour” which he professed to follow. “My honour,
my position,” he said, “my powers of being useful, all that I valued in
the world, was at stake. I often reflected on the principle laid down
by my old tutor, Father Benedict Sattler, in his ‘Ethica Christiana’
... ‘that it is lawful to deprive another of life, if that be the only
means of preserving one’s own honour and reputation. For honour is
more valuable than life; and if it is lawful to protect one’s life by
destroying an assailant, it must obviously be lawful to use similar
means to protect one’s honour.’”
On the 1st of August, 1818, he was declared guilty of murder and
sentenced to indefinite imprisonment in a fortress. The regular
punishment for murder was death, but in this case the learned jurist
Feuerbach admitted that had the court not accepted Riembauer’s
confession, he could not have been convicted, because the evidence,
though strong, was purely circumstantial. It was proved that the woman
had visited him; that an umbrella marked with her initials was in his
possession; that she had been buried under a shed on his farm, and that
the floor of his room was stained with blood and showed the result
of efforts to remove the stains with a plane; yet the court held that
evidence was lacking as to marks on the body for sufficient proof of
the actual manner of death.
The use of physical torture was abandoned in 1806, and then only
with a strong protest from judges of the old school, who parted with
great reluctance with so simple and expeditious a method of obtaining
evidence.
Curiously enough, the accused persons in the Bavarian courts were
generally moved to confess. Many reasons for this are given. Some few
confessed from remorse, others could not beat off the pertinacious
interrogatories of the judge, not a few were anxious to end the long
period of acute anxiety and suspense, and many were exasperated beyond
measure by the strict discipline and compulsory silence enforced in
Bavarian prisons. Rather than be condemned to perpetual silence, the
accused would speak out even to his own undoing.
Capital punishment was legal in Bavaria and was inflicted by
decapitation with a sword, or breaking on the wheel from the feet
upwards. But where conviction rested on circumstantial evidence only,
or assumed guilt was not borne out by actual confession, imprisonment
for life in chains was substituted, and it was a terrible penalty. The
sentence annihilated civil existence; it was moral if not physical
death. The culprit lost all rights as a husband, father or citizen; he
was deprived of property, freedom and honour; nothing remained but
bare life passed in slavery and chains. There was no recovery even
if error were proved. He did not get back what he had lost, and if
his wife married again he could not recover his property. It was not
capital punishment, but it was death in life.
In the progressive national development of Prussia, as wars were waged
and fresh territory acquired, prison reform obtained attention. In
Hesse-Cassel, prisons were in a very backward state and many were
condemned as unfit for habitation. In Hanover alone conditions were
more satisfactory. The journalist Hans Leuss served a term of three
years’ imprisonment in 1894 in one of the chief prisons, that of
Celle-on-the-Aller, which he graphically describes in his autobiography.
“It lies on the river bank. The front looks toward the avenue which
in Celle forms the approach to the station. The external aspect of
the terrible house is not unpleasing; neither does the appearance of
the inside give the most distant conception of the conditions under
which the prisoners live, nor of their situation, so that visitors are
rather favourably impressed than otherwise. On arrival we were led into
the vestibule of the building and drawn up in line, while an official
cross-examined us. Until noon, one formality after another had to be
gone through. We were first taken to the bathroom where, after being
plunged into hot water, we had to sit on the edge of the bath while
the barber shaved us. I shook so with cold that he had to let me return
to the water while he finished his operations, and we dressed standing
on a cold floor in our prison gaol. We next went before the governor
and other officials, and then partially stripped again and had to cross
a cold passage to the doctor’s room, who in my case found both lungs
affected. I have always ascribed to the hardships endured on that first
day in Celle the severe chest complaint from which I suffered during my
imprisonment, and the effects of which I still feel.
“These disagreeable preliminaries over, a cell was allotted to me. I
was put under a warder who was the most hated by the prisoners, the
most trusted by the authorities. He had a diminutive body, a large
and powerful hand, a bitter and suspicious countenance. He made my
life a burden and yet I pitied him. The deep lines of care on his face
convinced me he was wretched and made me sorry for him in my heart.
We were twenty-four prisoners in the middle ‘cell passage’ as the
‘station’ was officially called. All conversation was prohibited to
us. I was set to cane chairs. The prison diet was poor and the lack of
fat contained in it reduced me to a state of complete emaciation. I
learned nothing of my surroundings. The first person who spoke a kind
word to me was a humane warder who encouraged me, although this was not
necessary as my courage always triumphed over every hardship; yet it
did me good and I was gratified by the man’s kind intention in assuring
me he had seen several educated men endure long times of punishment
without being broken down.
“One day the door opened and a man entered whose appearance filled
me with surprise. He was a giant of spare build with a long dark
beard, delicately modelled, sympathetic hands and the countenance of
a real saint. He resembled neither a clergyman nor a fanatic, but was
evidently of a nature as gentle as his mind was vigorous. A man whose
outward semblance was unforgettable, how much more his soul, which
stands as clear in my recollection as does his tall stature. This was
the prison chaplain. The advantage of becoming acquainted with this
representative of the noblest form of humanity would alone suffice
to compensate me for the terrible sufferings I endured in the course
of those few years. Parson Haase has lived nearly a century as the
confidant of the sufferers in prison. His powerful but healthy mind
was ever impressed with the infinite misery around him. He became
a friend of the prisoners, gave them his confidence and received
theirs. I owe this man more than I can say. After him, and thanks to
him, the most humanising influence in the gaol was the library, which
became a priceless boon. This chaplain was a liberal-minded man who
did not limit his choice to books of devotion when making the yearly
additions, but he provided the prisoners with works to amuse as
well as improve, selected after careful consideration of the varied
tastes and requirements of their readers. With books of travel and
adventure were scientific manuals and works of still higher pretensions
to suit the better educated, and which helped them to escape from
mental breakdown and served to counteract the deteriorating effects of
cellular incarceration. The chaplain’s assistant-librarian at Celle was
an ex-murderer who had killed an intimate friend, a bookseller, whom he
robbed. It was a senseless crime, the discovery of which was certain,
and its cause was never explained.
“Religious exercises were strictly observed at Celle. The chapel was
constructed on the well-known plan of providing separate boxes like
lairs for each individual. All turned towards the altar which was
adorned with a copy of Guido’s crucifixion. The services were given
well and on a regular date there was a church ‘visitation day’ when
a high dignitary preached a stirring discourse, with no other effect
than that of starting a controversy among his prison congregation as
to whether his cross was of gold or silver. Other subjects formed the
staple conversation. One was always deeply interesting, the news that
corporal punishment had been ordered and that a prisoner was to be
strapped to the block.”
Hans Leuss animadverts strongly upon the discipline at Celle and
quotes several cases from official reports in which much cruelty was
exercised. One was of a man well advanced in years, who suffered from
misdirected acquisitiveness and frequently found himself in gaol, where
he constantly misconducted himself and was punished by long committals
to the dark cell. In the end his health gave way, but the trouble was
not diagnosed and he was very harshly treated. One morning he declared
he was unable to leave his bed, but he was nevertheless dragged up
and into the exercising yard where he was unable to walk and fell to
the ground. The governor, believing the illness was feigned, would
have flogged him but was reluctant to order corporal punishment for so
old a man, and had him put into the straight-jacket. Then the doctor
interposed, being in grave doubt as to his mental condition, and took
him into the hospital for observation, and he died that same afternoon,
of senile decay. It is horrible to think that the coercion of this poor
old creature was carried so far that he was nearly flogged, and that he
was actually confined in a straight-jacket so short a time before his
death.
Another prisoner in Celle was adjudged to be feigning insanity and
subjected to very harsh treatment; to douches and the jacket by the
order of the medical officer. He was suffering really from religious
mania, which took the form of exaggerated reverence for holy things;
he raved of them all night, abused Dr. Martin Luther and perpetually
asked to be flogged until he died for the glory of the faith. He
constantly sought to enter into disputation with the chaplain upon
whom he greatly imposed. No one thought he was mad, and his punishment
continued unceasingly until one night he hanged himself.
A third case of medical shortsightedness is reported from Celle, where
an habitual criminal, with a long record of crimes and punishments,
came under a new sentence for robbery. He was ill and would eat
nothing, and the doctor prescribed a blister. He did not mind, declared
he could not work and went for days without food. The doctor thought it
was catarrh of the stomach and decided that the man was quite fit for
light labour, but the governor only admonished him as he seemed really
weak from want of nourishment. Still the medical reports were against
him, and he was charged again with malingering, which took him for five
days to the dark cell. He did not improve, however, although it was
presently admitted that he was out of health and he was taken at last
into hospital, the doctor having diagnosed the disease as hemorrhage of
the kidneys. He rapidly grew worse, ice and port wine were ordered, but
not very regularly given to him. Within six weeks of his first arrival
he suddenly died. The post mortem examination revealed an advanced
cancer in the liver.
The practice of flogging was long retained in Prussian prisons, and is
still employed as a disciplinary measure. The prisoner was strapped
over a block by his hands and feet and the implement used was a stick,
the buttock piece of an ox, a leather whip or a rod with which the
prescribed number of strokes were laid on. A stalwart flagellator
usually acted as executioner, and the strokes were regulated by the
clock--one a minute. This punishment was in former times administered
in the most terribly cruel manner and permanent injuries to the spine
often resulted. A choice selection of whips of various sizes and
description may be seen in the strong room of Prussian prisons, most
of them of hard cutting leather unevenly plaited. Hans Leuss asserts
that at Celle prisoners detected in the manufacture of false coins were
always flogged severely.
The power of inflicting the lash is vested in the hands of the
governors of prisons and superior authorities. The former can order up
to thirty, the latter up to sixty stripes. The assent of the higher
prison officials to the governor’s decree is required, but is a pure
formality. It is little likely that the sanction of a majority of the
subordinates would ever be refused to the governor. The administration
of a prison is bureaucratic, and the governor is nearly always a
military officer and thoroughly imbued with the importance of his very
responsible position, which gives him power over hundreds of human
beings. The subordinate officials are usually selected from the ranks
of non-commissioned officers. Both the chaplain and the doctor may and
do raise objections to the governor’s orders. The doctor can enforce
his objection on the ground of health if he believes the man to be
punished is not a fit subject, but for this reason only. Any other
excuse he may offer is liable to be disregarded by his colleagues; if
the majority of the superior officials are not with him, the governor
can still have the punishment carried out. As a matter of fact, their
consultation only occupies a few minutes and is a pure formality,
the governor alone deciding. Up to 1902 the infliction of corporal
punishment was not at all rare.
Herr Krohne, a privy councillor and member of the prison board in the
Prussian Home Office, has described the hideous administration of the
punishment of flogging in his hand-book of prison law. Herr Krohne is
an opponent of flogging and of the “bed of lathes,” another form of
punishment practised in German prisons, which he rightly considers a
survival of barbarism. This last named punishment of the bed of lathes,
_lattenarrest_, consists of solitary confinement in a room, of which
the floor is laid with three cornered lathes or boards with pointed
side uppermost--in Saxony the walls also used to be lined with these
lathes--the culprit being stripped to his linen shirt, his underwear
and stockings. After a time he suffers pitifully; he can neither stand
nor lie down, cannot rest night or day and his body becomes gradually
covered with welts in stripes.
In the five years from 1894 to 1898, in all of the prisons of Prussia
taken together, there were 281 inflictions, and during the same period
the bed of lathes was ordered 176 times and in some cases for female
prisoners. The first curtailment was in the reign of King Frederick
William III, and in 1868 it was altogether abolished for women,
although not without violent protest from some prison governors who
were much opposed to the reform. It was further reduced in 1879 and
might only be administered in correction of the most serious offences,
as a rule after a previous offence. It has of late fallen into
disrepute and was rarely employed in the Moabit, the Gross Strehlitz or
Cologne prisons and the bed of lathes has almost disappeared. It was
generally adjudged as the punishment for attempted escape and inflicted
after the recapture of a fugitive.
Among the German States, Saxony has held a rather exceptional
position. A system of classification of prisoners was introduced by a
minister named Lindeman as far back as 1840, and ten years later the
penitentiary of Zwickau was opened, in which reformation was pursued
by individual treatment on humane and careful lines, with education
and industrial employment. The dietaries were ample and must be said
to have erred on the side of over-indulgence, in that Saxon prisoners
had at one time a choice among ninety different dishes for dinner and
twenty-eight for breakfast and supper. The discipline enforced was
generally mild. Corporal punishment was allowed by the rules and also
the bed of lathes, but neither of them has been applied for many years
past. Industry was encouraged by the hope of reward, pleasanter labour,
and remission of a part of the sentence in the form of leave of absence
or conditional release. Many excellent prisons exist similar to Zwickau
above mentioned, such as Waldheim, Hubertusburg and others. All of
them are kept up to a high standard and improvements are constantly in
progress. Separation by night is the general rule while dangerous or
incorrigible convicts are completely isolated.
In the Kingdom of Württemberg the cellular plan of prison construction
was adopted in 1865 and the first building, that of Heilbronn, was
occupied in 1872. Other places of durance are mostly on the collective
system as at Stuttgart, Ludwigsburg and Gotteszell, but means of
isolation and separation by night is practised generally. Discipline
is firm but not harsh, and corporal punishment is excluded from the
penalties for misconduct. Deterrence is held to be the primary object
of imprisonment, but moral reformation is not overlooked.
A few words may be inserted here as to penal institutions in other
German states. Thus in the grand-duchy of Hesse the principle of
herding the prisoners together prevails, although efforts have been
made to introduce the isolated cell system. The chief prisons are
the “Marienschloss” and those in Darmstadt and Mainz. The national
penal institution of Dreibergen serves both of the grand-duchies of
Mecklenburg as their chief prison. Peculiar interest attaches to it in
view of the almost forgotten fact that here a sort of transition stage
was instituted for convicts with long sentences who were during the
latter part of their term removed from the isolation cells and sent out
to such work as was calculated to develop their physical powers.
In the history of prison management, Oldenburg earned an excellent
reputation through the remarkable individuality of Hoyer, for years
the director of the house of correction at Vechta. He advocated
cell isolation until the latter years of his life, when he declared
himself in favour of the Irish system. His plan of forming settlements
for convict labour on waste lands was discontinued, as the results
were unfavourable, and a modified form of solitary confinement was
reinstated. A portion of the Thuringian states was under Prussian and
Saxon jurisdiction with regard to their prison system. The rest formed
a combination among themselves for the building of prisons to be used
by them in common. The principal one was in Ichtershausen.
The improvement of penal institutions was undertaken by Austria in
the early forties and a special commission was appointed to examine
into the merits of various systems recommended, with the result that
solitary confinement was recognised as the most suitable form of
punishment for all prisoners awaiting trial and for those sentenced
for a year or less. But before this could be put into practice in the
new prisons, the political situation changed and the projected reforms
were delayed. The old system was not changed, but efforts were made to
provide further accommodation to meet the great increase in the number
of sentences. Much energy was devoted to the work and considerable
outlay, which produced prisons large enough to contain thirteen
thousand inmates. The entire prison administration was entrusted to
religious orders and even prisons for male offenders were placed
under the superintendence of nuns, a cardinal error resulting in much
mischief. Under the minister of justice, in 1865, reforms were again
instituted; he assumed the supreme control, and prison management was
made to conform to the spirit of the then prevailing liberal views. The
system of imprisonment hitherto in force throughout Austria remained
untouched for the time being. Among other reforms, corporal punishment
and chains were abolished.
In 1868 the penal institutions of Garsten and Karthaus came under
government inspection, the contracts with the religious orders ceased,
and in 1870 all male prisons were put under direct state control. A new
male prison for three hundred inmates was opened at Laibach in Carniola
and another at Wisnicz to accommodate four hundred. In April, 1872,
the system of solitary confinement was partially introduced, but the
progressive principle of prison treatment was kept steadily in view.
After a period of cellular confinement, prisoners lived and laboured
in association, care being taken to separate the worst from the less
hardened offenders. Juveniles were segregated and, of course, the
women, the whole number falling into three principal divisions,--the
first offenders, the possibly curable and the hopeless, habitual
criminals.
A prominent feature in the modern administration of these institutions
has been the employment of prisoners approaching the time of their
release in a state of semi-liberty, at a distance from any permanently
established prison. The first experiment was made in 1886, when a party
was sent to improve the bed of a river in Upper Carinthia. They went
from the Laibach prison and were followed by reinforcements in the
following year. Similar public works were undertaken in 1888-9 in Upper
Carniola, Carinthia, Upper Styria and Galicia, for the construction
of canals and roads and the opening up of rivers. In some cases the
prisoners took with them a portable shed-barrack, in others they built
huts in the neighbourhood of their works. The labour performed was
cheap and effective, the discipline maintained excellent, and the
prisoners are said to have much benefited, morally and physically,
by the trust reposed in them and by the healthfulness of their daily
occupations. The building of the reformatory at Aszod was undertaken
by convicts, a number of whom, to the great alarm of the villagers,
arrived on the newly bought lands, where they lodged in huts without
bolts or bars. Their conduct, however, was exemplary. It has been
claimed, not without reason, that this method of employing prisoners
has been most successful.
A large operation was undertaken in the district of Pest-Pilis-Solt,
where the torrential river Galga does considerable damage at flood
time. Owing to the demands of harvest and agricultural works, free
labour was not to be had in the summer, when alone the river was low
enough to admit of interference, and the local authorities having two
large prisons within easy access sought for a concession of prison
labour. It was granted, and two sets of prisoners commenced at either
end of the river valley. These were specially selected men; they
encamped at the places where they were busy, being supplied with canvas
tents by the military authorities; they ministered to their own needs
and cooked their own food, which was brought in the raw state from the
neighbouring prison. Excellent results followed their employment for
three consecutive years. Not only was a work of great public utility
completed, but the prisoners conducted themselves in the most exemplary
manner. Although they were held under no restraint in the midst of a
free population, there was not a single attempt at escape during the
entire three years; there was no misconduct, and discipline was easily
maintained by the mere threat of relegation to the prison. The prison
administration has in consequence decided that it is now unnecessary
to construct special intermediate prisons; places where men, as in the
old Irish farm of Lusk, might be suffered to go half free while proving
their fitness for complete liberty.
Three new prisons were built in Austria-Hungary during the latter years
of the nineteenth century, all of them imposing edifices. One of these
is at Marburg on the Drave and holds eight hundred prisoners, partly
in cells, partly in association; another is at Stanislau in Galicia
for the same number, which has but few cells, as separate confinement
is not suited to the agricultural classes constituting the inmates of
the prison. The farm land and gardens surrounding are extensive and the
work done is mainly agricultural. A third prison is at Pankraz Nusle
near Prague and stands on a height behind the celebrated Wyschehrad.
The prison can accommodate one thousand inmates and has replaced the
old building at St. Wenzel. A portion of the building at Marburg was
carried out by convicts. Till these new prisons were built, that at
Pilsen was considered the best in Austria. Another at Stein on the
Danube, between Linz and Vienna, holds about one thousand prisoners
sentenced to a year and upwards, and is organised on a very sound and
intelligent basis. The discipline at Stein, according to the reports
of competent visitors, is very creditable. It is claimed for it that
the daily average on the punishment list is only nine and that there
has not been a sign of a mutiny in sixteen years. Corporal punishment
does not exist, but the methods by which order is maintained seem harsh
and afford another proof that the abolition of the lash calls for
other penalties which are physically more injurious and morally quite
as debasing. A writer in the _Times_ in 1886 gives a description of a
prisoner whom he saw who had been sentenced to a month in a punishment
cell for destroying materials entrusted to him for manufacture. He
was to spend twelve days in darkness on bread and water; twelve days
absolutely fasting, with only water to drink; to have no work, to sleep
on a plank bed, and for four whole days was to wear a chain and shot
on his ankles. Finally, for the last eighteen hours of his punishment
he was to be “short-chained”--a torture which consists in “strapping
up one foot at right angles to the knee of the other leg, so that the
prisoner cannot stand but can only sit in a posture which after a few
minutes becomes intolerably fatiguing, and then acutely painful.”
Strait-waistcoats are also used for the refractory, and a very
effective but cruel gag,--an iron hoop with a brass knob like a door
handle. The knob is forced into the mouth and the hoop passed over and
locked behind the head.