ARGENTINE EDUCATION, HOSPITALS, AND ASYLUMS
If the different foreign elements contributed by the Latin peoples
fuse so readily into an Argentine race, it is none the less true that
Spanish metal bulks the heaviest in the ore. Language, literature,
history, give a bias from which none can escape. The ancient branch
transplanted to this youthful soil sends up its shoots towards another
heaven, but the original sap circulates unendingly in the living tree.
The Argentine is not, and firmly refuses to be, a Spanish colony. It
has successfully freed itself from the historic shackles--those of
theocracy, first of all--which have so disastrously tied and bound
the noble and lofty impulses of a people eminently fitted to perform
exalted tasks. And hence, notwithstanding a large alluvion from
Italy, symbolised by the monument to Garibaldi, notwithstanding the
growing influence of French culture, the atavism of blood preserves an
indelible imprint which will characterise the Argentine nation down to
its most distant posterity.
The visit of the Infanta Isabella on the occasion of the Centenary
Fêtes in honour of the independence was a happy thought on the part of
the Spanish Government. The Princess, escorted by M. Perez Caballero,
the present Spanish Ambassador in Paris, was everywhere received with
rapturous enthusiasm. It was easy to see that the struggles of the
past, now relegated to the annals of the dead, had left no bitterness
in the people's heart. There was universal pleasure at the graceful
action of the now reconciled parent in thus stretching a hand to the
son who, with impetuous ardour, had thrown off the yoke of dependence,
and the public found a subtle pleasure in showing that the chivalrous
courtesy which is part of the tradition of the race had lost none of
its flower in this American land. After the severe measures taken to
repress anarchical violence, a rumour spread that the life of the
President of the Republic was in danger. Perhaps there was nothing in
it. Unfortunately, it was one of those things that can only be verified
by experience. At all events, the Infanta Isabella chose to ignore the
danger. With the utmost simplicity, but also with the utmost courage,
she showed herself everywhere by the side of the Chief of the State,
and to the lasting credit of the Argentine reputation, everywhere she
was greeted with hearty applause.
Here, then, is a base, immutably Spanish through all the changes that
one can foresee, together with a fusion and perfect assimilation of
the Latin elements in the immense influx of European civilisation:
such is the first condition of Argentine evolution to be seen and
studied in the city of Buenos Ayres. To make the picture complete, we
must notice an important contribution of Indian blood that is very
marked everywhere. I shall return to this later. As for the national
character, since I am only jotting down a traveller's impressions,
and not attempting to present to my readers a didactic study, it is,
I think, better to allow its features to spring naturally from the
subject under consideration as we go along, rather than first to make
statements that I must next attempt to prove.
I have already mentioned the extreme kindness of Señor Guiraldès, the
City Lieutenant, who is for the Argentine capital what M. de Selves
is for Paris. Like our own Prefect, he is appointed by the President
of the Republic, and I may say that although there are inevitably
from time to time differences with the Municipal Council, the system
has given good results as applied to a place in which there are so
many conflicting elements. Señor and Señora Guiraldès, like all the
upper class of Argentine society, possess the most perfect European
culture, and they do the honours of their city with a charming grace
that delights the foreign visitor. Now that I am at a distance from
them, I consider that I may with propriety pay sincere homage to
their courtesy. Whenever I found I had a little time to spare I used
to telephone to Señor Guiraldès, who had once for all placed himself
at my disposal. He invariably replied by hastening to my door, and
together we consulted as to tours of inspection; it was agreed that
I should choose the institutions to be visited so that there might
be no suspicion of collusion. In this way I was enabled to visit all
the State or municipal establishments that interested me. When by
chance we found some evidence of official oversight, Señor Guiraldès's
satisfaction was boundless.
"At least," he cried, "you will not tell me that your call had been
announced beforehand."
Then, to check any inordinate vanity, I told him the tale of an
adventure that happened once to a certain Minister of the Interior who
visited the prison of Saint Lazare.
A ring at the bell.
"I want to see the Governor."
"He has gone up to town."
"Then I will see the chief clerk."
"He is away on leave."
"The chief warder?"
"He is laid up."
"Can I speak to the Sister Superior?"
"She has just gone out."
"Well, are any of the prisoners at home?"
The gaoler, smiling amiably: "I believe so."
Argentine officials, like their French brethren, are both fallible
and zealous, and while it was impossible that in so many visits
there should be no ground for criticism, yet I am anxious to declare
publicly how admirably kept were the schools, of whatever degree, the
hospitals, asylums, refuges, and prisons; they were not only adapted
to all the requirements of therapeutics, hygiene, and the canons of
modern European science, but they showed a genuine effort to do better
than the best. I should have been glad to have there some of those who
make a practice of disdaining these countries that started very long
after us, but that can already give us some salutary lessons through
institutions such as those I have named, which are here brought to a
pitch of perfection that is in many cases unknown with us.
My readers will not expect me to take them with me round all the
establishments that I visited with Señor Guiraldès. They would fill a
book, and I should need to dip into the innumerable volumes of reports
and notices which Argentine benevolence added to my personal luggage.
This, however, does not come within my subject.
None will be surprised that the schools attracted my attention first.
The School Question is too vast to be handled here in detail. But I
saw professional schools (_Écoles industrielles de la Nation_), and
primary schools that would be models in any land. All the arrangements
irreproachable, and the children scrupulously clean. Demonstration
lessons in abundance. Lessons on the land and its mineral, vegetable,
and animal productions, specimens of each being passed from hand to
hand, accompanied by explanations summarised in synoptic tables. A
lesson on the anatomy and physiology of the lungs was illustrated
by the breathing organs of an ox and a sheep (higher primary class
for young girls), which appeared to awaken great interest among the
scholars. Specimens in pasteboard coloured like life, showing the
different parts of the organism, allow these rudimentary demonstrations
to be carried fairly far.
The primary schools, under the management of the National Educational
Council, are free, and include the school material obligatory in theory
for children of from six to twelve years of age. But the population
of Buenos Ayres grows more rapidly than its schools. Hence the
inconvenient expedient has been adopted of dividing the pupils into
two categories, one attending school of a morning and the other of
an afternoon, with the result that one half the children are always
wandering about the streets while the others are drinking at the
fountain of knowledge. This is a system that has nothing to recommend
it. It is difficult to understand why the Argentine capital postpones
making a pecuniary sacrifice which is certainly not beyond its means,
and which is imperatively necessary. The criticism is the more
justifiable in that untold sums have been spent on certain buildings
which are veritable palaces, as, for example, the President Roca
School. About a hundred private, lay, or denominational schools, kept
for the most part by foreigners, take in the children who are crowded
out of the public schools. At Buenos Ayres, as in other parts of the
country, the number of pupils in this category is far too large. There
are provinces where the deficit of schools is such as to constitute a
real scandal in a civilised nation.[12]
I shall never forget the heart-broken tones of a child of ten whom I
met in the Pampas of the Buenos Ayres province and whom I questioned as
to his occupations.
"I want to go to school. Papa does not want me to."
The father was a Mexican. The eyes of the child thus condemned by
paternal stupidity to mental darkness were full of intelligence. How
much trouble we take to make the best of our land! How apathetic we are
when it is a question of developing the greatest force in the world,
that which sets in motion all the rest--human intelligence! Is it not
inconceivable that in France, after nearly half a century of labour,
we still find every year a large number of wholly illiterate men among
the conscripts called up to serve with the Flag? This state of affairs,
which is sad enough at home, would be reckoned a great success in the
_Campo_, where distances are such that the children have to go to the
primary schools on horseback, as I have elsewhere mentioned. But when a
school is within reach, the folly of parents must not be permitted to
debar their children from its advantages.
The municipal and State schools are entirely undenominational. This
rule obtains throughout the Argentine, where it is accepted without a
murmur. The numerous religious Orders have their own private schools
in virtue of the recognised principle of liberty of teaching. It might
surprise a European to see that the Catholic clergy of the Argentine
do not attempt to fight the undenominational character of the public
schools which elsewhere has aroused such violent hostility. To my mind
this cannot be explained by a want of religious fervour amongst priests
and monks in the Argentine. But circumstances which it would take too
long to explain have taught the Argentine clergy to make an _outward_
practice of toleration. If questioned on the subject, the Argentino
will reply: "Our clergy hold themselves aloof from politics."
And this seems to be the case. The religious world appears to be no
party to political differences. The social influence of the Roman
hierarchy is none the less powerful on what remains of the old colonial
aristocracy and (with few exceptions) on the women of the class known
as superior. Practically, the official relations of Church and State in
the Argentine approach very close to separation.
I shall say nothing of the secondary schools and colleges, of which
I saw but little. They are placed under the immediate control of the
Minister of Public Instruction. There are no resident students. This,
in the opinion of all, is the weakest spot in their educational scheme.
Amédée Jacques, one of the exiles of our December _coup d'état_,
introduced our classical curriculum into the Argentine, but it met with
no success. Since that time, here, as at home, there has been strife
between the partisans of the classic and those of modern, or even
technical, education. Great battles have been fought, and the only
result is that the cause of education has suffered from both parties.
The opening of a French _lycée_, which I have reason to believe will
shortly take place, may help to restore the classics to the position
which in my opinion they ought to hold in every civilised country.
In certain branches higher education has made great strides. Law and
Medicine in particular have a staff of eminent men in their colleges.
Any man who has made his mark in Europe is sure of a choice audience
there, drawn from both professors and students. I had the pleasure
of being present at the first of Enrico Ferri's lectures at the Law
schools. His subject was Social Justice. The powerful and glowing
eloquence of the orator was never displayed before a public better
prepared to profit by his lofty teaching on humanitarian equity.
It is not in vain that so many young Argentines have made their way to
the universities of France, Italy, and Germany. As soon as I set foot
in the hospitals here I had an impression that I was in the full stream
of European science, and that the Argentinos were determined to be
second to none in the perfection of their organisation.
I noticed an excellent bacteriological institute managed by a
compatriot of ours, M. Lignères, and some agricultural schools that are
turning out a competent body of men for the development of the Pampas.
The hospitals impressed us very favourably. The New Hospital for
Contagious Diseases, situated some kilometres from the centre of the
town, comprises a series of model buildings, all strictly isolated,
of which each is devoted to a special disease. At the Rivadavia
Hospital, for women only, the _Cobo_ wards (for pulmonary tuberculosis
and surgical operations) are particularly admirable. Everywhere the
latest improvements as regards the appliances for the patients,
the sterilising halls, and operating theatres, and also as regards
surgical appliances. Nothing has been overlooked that can increase the
efficaciousness of the hospital schools: amphitheatres for classes,
diagrams, specimens, etc. The laboratories are so luxurious that they
would make our own hospital students envious. It was here that Dr.
Pozzi, our eminent compatriot, performed in May, 1910, a series of
operations, every one of which proved successful; while his German
fellow-practitioner, whose scientific acquirements are unquestionable,
met with very different results. The same may be said of Dr. Doléris,
who held a course of demonstration lessons in Buenos Ayres, and whose
operations were also crowned with entire success. The Rivadavia
Hospital has a fine _annexe_ of supplementary work: consultations for
outpatients, electro- and radio-therapy, dispensary, etc. I must also
mention the sumptuous recreation-rooms for the use of convalescents,
and the gardens, exquisitely kept.
In the maternity wards (at Alvear as at Rivadavia) we find the
same care for ultra-modern comfort, combined with the strictest
cleanliness. I must not forget a very curious obstetrical museum with
diagrams, anatomical specimens, and a series of admirable preparations
exemplifying the different stages of gestation. A small cradle should
be noticed (a German invention, I believe), ingeniously attached to
the mother's bed and taken down with a single movement of the hand.
Very happy instance of simplification. Everywhere--in the design
of the buildings, in the fittings, laboratories, sterilising- and
operating-rooms--the influence and products of Germany were patent. On
the other hand, the French culture of doctors and surgeons, masters
and pupils, was easily discernible, and all were greatly indebted
to the classics of our Paris and Lyons Faculties. I could not see
the evidences of this in the hospital libraries without remembering
regretfully the churlish reception that is given in some of our
hospital schools to modest foreign _savants_.
At the same time, I will not conceal the fact that Protection of the
most extreme sort flourishes among the Argentine physicians, who are
very anxious to defend themselves against European competition. I was
told that there are no less than thirty-two examinations imposed on a
doctor from the Paris Faculty before he is permitted to write out the
simplest prescription for a _gaucho_ of the Pampas. We may be allowed
to find these measures highly exaggerated.
There is a splendid Asylum for Aged Men kept by French Sisters of
Charity in a condition of the daintiest cleanliness, and managed by
ladies of the city. The Argentinos claim that their women are very
zealous in all charitable works. Doubt was thrown recently in the
Chamber on this statement. I am not competent to judge.
One original institution--the Widows' Asylum--is a sort of settlement
composed of small apartments of one or two rooms, on a single floor.
In the courtyard opposite the gate is a small shed, in which is placed
a stove for open-air cooking, possible in this fortunate climate all
the year round. The rents are very low for widows having more than four
children.
The lunatic colony of Lujan, to which its founder and manager, Dr.
Cabred, has given the significant name of The Open Door, deserves
a more detailed description. It consists of an estate of six
hundred hectares on the Pacific Line seventy kilometres from Buenos
Ayres, and here twelve hundred patients are accommodated in twenty
villas--graceful _chalets_, surrounded by gardens and containing each
sixty patients. These villas are fitted up with everything necessary
for clinotherapy and balneotherapy, with fine recreation-rooms.
The colony is enclosed by a line of wire; not a wall, not a wooden
fence--everywhere unrestricted freedom and a wide, open horizon.
We have erected a monument in Paris to the memory of Pinel, in which he
is represented as breaking the chains which mediæval ignorance heaped
on the mad inmates of Bicêtre as late as 1793. But if you visit our
asylum of Sainte-Anne, you are tempted to ask in what this "modern"
establishment differs from an ordinary prison. I hasten to add that in
the other asylums of the Department of the Seine we are beginning to
develop the open-air treatment. Long ago the system of placing certain
patients out in the country amongst peasant families was planned and
adopted. The Open Door treats all mental patients, of whatever degree
of madness, on the plan known out here as "work performed in liberty."
In the confusion of cerebral phenomena the widest freedom is given
to the reflex action of unconscious or quasi-unconscious life. If
a patient has learnt a trade, he finds at once in The Open Door an
outlet for his energies, for it is with the labour of the lunatics
that the carpentering, masonry, scaffolding, etc., of these villas was
executed. Those who have no trade are given a technical education, and
often acquire great skill. The difficulty is to persuade the newcomer
to begin to work. If he refuses, he is left alone. "He is left to feel
dull." Then he is invited to take a walk, and once on the spot where
work is proceeding, he is offered a tool that he may do as the others
are doing.
"I have met with only one refusal," said Dr. Cabred. "One patient tried
calmly to prove to me that life was not worth the labour necessary to
preserve it. I must confess that he nearly convinced me, and I often
try to find the flaw in his reasoning, though never, as yet, with
success. It is a little hard when the apostle of lunatic labour is
brought to ask himself if the lunatic who refuses to work is not acting
on a better reasoned conviction than his more submissive companions. At
any rate, he is the only man in the colony who does nothing. He spends
his time reading the paper or dreaming, without saying a word. When I
go to see him he mocks at me, declaring that it is I who am the fool,
and, indeed, to support his laziness is not, perhaps, the action of a
sane man."
There is not a strait-waistcoat or a single appliance for restraint in
the whole colony. Excitement or attacks of violence all yield to the
bath, which is sometimes prolonged to twenty-four or thirty hours if
necessary.
Separate _chalets_ for the manager and his staff, for the water
reservoir, the machinery, laundry, dairy, kitchens, workshops, theatre,
chapel. Outside, agricultural labour in every form, from ploughing to
cattle rearing. Only the superintendents who direct the work are sane,
or supposed to be. In spite of this assurance it is not without alarm
that one watches madmen handling red-hot irons or tools as dangerous
for others as themselves. As may be supposed, they are not put to this
kind of work until they have been subjected to long trials.
Our visit to The Open Door lasted a whole day, and still we had
not seen everything. From first to last we were followed by a mad
photographer, who took his pictures at his own convenience and
reprimanded us severely for rising from lunch without first posing for
him. Four days later a series of photographs, representing the various
incidents of our day at The Open Door, was sent to me, bound in an
album--by a madman, of course, and sent by another madman to a person
mad enough to believe himself endowed with reason.
Need I add that we had been received to the strains of the
_Marseillaise_ and the National Argentine Hymn, performed by a mad
band, which, all through lunch, played the music of its repertoire!
Ever since, I have wondered why a certificate of madness is not
demanded from every candidate for admission to the Opera orchestra.
As for journalism, do you suppose that no room was found for it in
The Open Door? The excellent Dr. Cabred is not a man to make such
omissions. We were duly presented with a copy of the _Ecos de las
Mercedes_, a monthly paper, written and published by the madmen of
The Open Door, with the intention, perhaps, of making us believe that
other journals are the work of individuals in full possession of their
common-sense--prose and poetry; articles in Spanish, Italian, and
French; occasionally a slight carelessness in grammar and in sequence
of thought, but, on the whole, not wandering farther from their subject
than others.
Finally, to wind up the day's proceedings, we were treated to a
horserace ridden by lunatics. Sane beasts mounted by mad horsemen,
galloping wildly, by mutual consent, in a useless effort to reach
a perfectly vain end. Is not this the common spectacle offered by
humanity?
Meantime, one honest madman of mystic tendencies, decorated with about
a hundred medals, pursued us with religious works, from which he read
us extracts, accompanied by his blessing. I wondered whether this form
of exercise was included in Dr. Cabred's programme, since he claims to
make his lunatics perform all the acts of a sane community. A similar
scruple occurred to me at noon, when I was invited to take a seat at a
well-spread table.
"Is your cooking done by madmen?" I inquired, not without anxiety.
"We have made an exception in your favour," was the contrite reply.
And now another question arose to my lips.
"Since you have clearly proved that the mad are capable of performing
any kind of task, will you tell me why you give yourself the lie
by placing at the head of The Open Door a man who appears to me in
possession of all his faculties?"
"Yes; that is a weakness," replied the Doctor, laughing. "But, after
all, what proof have you that I am not literally fulfilling all my own
conditions? Did I not tell you that one of my patients, who may quite
possibly be the most enlightened of us all, pronounced me a raving
lunatic when I invited him to work? If he is right, then all is as it
should be at The Open Door."
I did not wish to vex the kindly doctor, who is the architect of
so admirable a monument, but there was still a doubt in my mind:
Was it possible to give the illusion of freedom to these madmen by
merely suppressing the walls? They offer no resistance when called to
co-operate in all kinds of open-air labour, and find, if not a cure, at
least relief from their malady in this simple treatment; but did they
really believe themselves free? I did not ask the question, for the
answer was given by an old French gardener, one of the inmates of The
Open Door, who, over-excited by our presence there, suddenly began to
rave.
"For twenty-five years," he shrieked, "you have kept me prisoner here!"
Here, then, was a man whose life was spent out of doors at the work
with which he had been familiar all his life, and, although no sign
of restraint was visible, he was conscious of imprisonment. It is
true that modern determinism has reduced what we call our "liberty"
to the rigorous fatality of an organism which leaves to us merely the
illusion of free will,[13] while imposing on us the impulse of some
superior energy that we are forced to obey. Oh, Madness! Oh, Wisdom!
Oh, vacillating sisters! is it indeed true that you wander hand in hand
through the world?
To whatever philosophic solution our own madness or reason may lead us,
let us hasten to conclude the subject by stating that The Open Door
is a model establishment, which, thanks to Dr. Cabred, enables the
Argentine to give the lead to older peoples. I will only add that it is
the rarest thing for a patient to escape (if I may use so unsuitable
a word), since the natural conditions of the surrounding Pampas would
render life therein impossible; and the lunatics on the way to recovery
who are given leave of absence to stay a few days with their friends
before being finally set at liberty invariably return punctually to the
colony. Who can tell if some lunatic, restored to reason, might not
secretly refuse to believe himself cured, and elect to pass the rest of
his days happily at work under the glorious sky amongst these peaceful
creatures, where the troubles and worries of the world, with the
eternal competition and conflict which are the scourge of our "sane"
existence, are unfelt and unknown? Such a case might lead Dr. Cabred
to put up a similar establishment for the wise.
From the lunatic asylum to the prison is not such a leap as some of
us may think. The asylum lifts out of the relative orderliness that
we have managed to establish in the conditions of civilised life all
those who, by lack of mental balance, might introduce unbearable
disorder. And might not this elemental definition be equally applied
to the one or the other class of unfortunates? I beg my reader not to
be alarmed at the fearful gravity of the problem. If it be true that
no philosopher has ever been able to find a solid foundation for the
right that man has assumed to "punish" his fellows for transgressing
his laws, at least all will readily admit that, notwithstanding some
obvious imperfections, society has attained to manifest superiority
over the state of barbarism in which brute force alone rules, and
that it is therefore inadmissible that those who would transgress the
general laws on which society has been based should be allowed to
destroy the fabric so laboriously built up.
In moving out of its path those who would live within its pale in
defiance of its laws, society but exercises its natural right.[14] The
real question open to dispute is rather the treatment to be meted out
to these rebels. In the primitive code of the _talion_ nothing was
more simple--an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth--thou hast killed;
I kill thee. Thou hast inflicted injuries; I in my turn shall injure
thee, and I expect to deter thee from future crimes by fear of the pain
in store for thee. Such "justice" has the double advantage of being
speedy and readily comprehended of a rudimentary intelligence as long
as the temptation has been resisted. But when evil instincts, that
none asks of Nature, have caused the fall of delinquents, the morbid
moral sense, more or less distorted, which urged them on to violent
deeds, makes them conscious solely of the violence of which they are
now the object, and drives them to take sinister revenge. Thus they
are prevented from exercising their calmer judgment, from which, by the
mere force of reaction, there might spring a desire and hope for a new
life within the pale of the established order of things.
And seeing it had been left for 1793--the epoch of a universal outburst
of fraternity, manifested first by the permanent institution of the
guillotine--to give us in Pinel a man of enough simple common-sense
to break the chains that bound the mad, is it unreasonable to think
that without freeing criminals (since not even at The Open Door are
the lunatics let loose upon the public) one might yet seek some system
of improvement and reformation to be applied in the establishments in
which we keep our prisoners? There will always be some incurables--that
is certain; but because incurables exist in every hospital and asylum,
ought we to argue therefrom that it is useless to fight against an evil
that is beyond human powers?
The reader may suppose that I should not have ventured to set down
these considerations of social philosophy without a good reason. The
principles I have thus summarised, at the risk of wearying those who
look only for amusement, are now held by every criminalist worthy the
name. But since this new conception makes its way very slowly with even
the best-intentioned of Governments, which are the more strongly imbued
with the prejudices of the masses in proportion as they are the more
impregnated with the democracy, and since the transformation of our
existing prisons would be very costly, we have as yet not got farther
than the inclusion of the words "reform" and "amendment" on programmes
that are very far from being put in execution.
Shall I give an example? It is evident that the time-sentence must
inevitably restore a prisoner sooner or later to society. Is not,
therefore, the public interest bound up in his returning with a good
chance of leading a regular life, and not falling back into the
disorder that was the cause of his temporary removal? And is not the
very first condition of this fresh start the possession of a trade with
sufficient skill therein to ensure some chance of success? If, then, we
can give technical instruction in our prisons, and at the same time
improve the intellectual and moral standard of the prisoner; and if, on
his discharge, we can place the man whom society has thus--temporarily
only--removed from its midst, in a position immediately to earn an
honest living, instead of throwing him on his own resources, to be
again confronted with the same temptations--would not society in this
way infinitely multiply the sum total of the probabilities that its
money and trouble would have the desired effect? I think, in theory,
this argument will be readily admitted. Unfortunately, the difficulty
is that it is much more economical to draw an immediate profit from
prison labour than to reverse the problem and spend more in order to
place an instrument of reform in the hands of the delinquent, with
always, of course, a risk of failure.
In the United States great progress has been made in this direction,
and if I appear to have gone a long way round to introduce my readers
to the Central (men's) Prison of Buenos Ayres, my excuse is that to
my mind the Argentine Republic has far surpassed all that has been
attempted hitherto in this department of work. And to say truth, I
feared that in bluntly and without comment giving a description of
what I have been permitted to see, I might jar the spirit of routine
that has taken hold of certain communities, notwithstanding their
revolutionary changes of appellation.
I shall say nothing of the material side of the place, which very much
resembles our own prisons. The prisoners are locked into their cells
at night, but by day they are told off into the different workshops
which are intended to perfect them in their own trades or give them
a new one. The wages question is placed on much the same basis as
with us, except that, the food being more abundant, the men are able
to put aside the greater part of what they earn. (The diet consists
principally of _perchero_--boiled beef--the staple article of food
amongst the masses.) Conversation is allowed, but only in a low voice,
and as long as work is not hindered thereby. Rations are distributed
in the cells by the prisoners themselves, who take their meals with
the door open, and frequently add a cigarette to the menu. There are
books in every cell, with the essentials of school stationery. There
are fourteen classes and fourteen masters. All the inmates attend the
adult classes, which include such subjects--in addition to the theory
of their own special technical work--as history, hygiene, morality, and
in each an examination is held at the end of the year.
Both Governor and masters testify to the general application of
the pupils. The land surveying class grows with special rapidity,
in view of the constant demand for surveyors in the Pampas. A vast
lecture-hall, which makes a theatre when required, is decorated with
drawings, casts, and charts by the hand of the pupils. Lectures are
given both by masters and prisoners when the latter are sufficiently
advanced, or when their former studies have qualified them for the
task. On one occasion M. Ferrero, who has, I believe, published an
account of his visit to the Central Prison of Buenos Ayres, was present
when a prisoner gave a lecture on prehistoric America.
"And the old offenders?" I asked as I went out.
"There are some," replied the Governor, "but not many. Our system
of re-education is powerfully backed up by the permanent offer of
work from all parts of the Pampas. Moreover, the greater number of
our crimes are what are called 'crimes of passion.' The Italian and
Spaniard are equally prompt with the knife. A large number of these men
have killed their man in a fit of furious excitement, but they will
be thought none the less of for their 'irritability' when they return
home. Our point of view is this: Every time a man commits an offence or
a crime, it becomes the duty of the community to begin, immediately,
the work of re-education. Probably in no country shall we ever do
all we might for the individual offender. But when one member of the
social corporation falls he must be made over again. This is what we
are trying to do, and I admit it is the greatest joy to us to see the
success of our efforts. I have seen most of the prisons of Europe. Did
you notice amongst our inmates that expression of the tracked beast
which you find on all your prisoners? No. Our inmates have one idea
only--to begin life again and to prepare, this time, for success. This
is the secret of that tranquil, confiding air of good children at
their task which you must have observed on so many faces; and this,
perhaps, takes the place of repentance, which is not given to all."
"And you are not afraid your comfortable building will prove an
attraction to people who are at a loss to know what to do with
themselves?"
"That has not happened so far. Such a fear--though I cannot believe you
are speaking seriously--shows you do not take into account the superior
attraction for every human creature of liberty."
With that I left, having learnt a very interesting lesson from the
Argentinos, whom so many Europeans are generously ready to teach.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] The census of 1909 showed that public instruction had since 1895,
the date of the last census, made great progress. In these ten years
the Argentine has opened 2000 new schools. In 1895, 30 per cent. of the
population were in the schools; in 1909, 59 per cent.
The Lainez Act enjoined on the National Educational Council the duty of
opening elementary schools, giving the minimum of instruction, wherever
they were needed.
In the census of 1909 every child from five to fourteen years was
made the subject of a separate card of psychophysical details
on the initiative of Dr. Horacio G. Pinero. This card contained
twenty-one questions: age, nationality, parentage, height, weight,
thoracic measurements, size of the head, weight of the body,
anomalies, deformities, stigmata, anterior diseases, sight, hearing,
objective perception, attention, memory, language and pronunciation,
affectionateness, excitability, temper.
[13] "If the idea of liberty be in itself a force, as Fouillée
maintains, that force would be scarcely less if some wise man should
one day demonstrate that it rested on illusion alone. This illusion
is too tenacious to be dispelled by reasoning. The most convinced of
determinists will still continue to use the words 'I will' and even 'I
ought' in his daily speech, and moreover will continue to think them
with what is the most powerful part of his mind--the unconscious and
non-reasoning part. It is just as impossible not to act like a free man
when one acts as it is not to reason like the determinist when one is
working at science" ("La Morale et la Science," by Henri Poincaré, _La
Revue_, June 1, 1910).
[14] "If some day morality were forced to accept determinism, would
it not perish in the effort to adapt itself thereto? So profound a
metaphysical revolution would doubtless have less influence on our
manners than might be thought. Penal repression is not of course in
question; what we now call crime and punishment would be known as
disease and prevention, but society would preserve intact its right
which is not to punish but simply to defend itself" (Henri Poincaré,
_loc. cit._).