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<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">i</span></p>

<h1>
<span class="antiqua">The History and<br />

Romance of<br />

Crime</span><br />

<span class="medium table">FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES<br />
TO THE PRESENT DAY</span><br />

<img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:a:arthur-griffiths-oriental-prisons-colophon.jpg" alt="" /><br />

<span class="large table">THE GROLIER SOCIETY<br />
<span class="small">LONDON</span></span>
</h1>

<p class="figcenter">
<img id="frontis" src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:a:arthur-griffiths-oriental-prisons-frontis.jpg" alt="" />
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">ii</span></p>

<p class="caption"><i>A Prison in Tangier</i>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">iii</span></p>

<p class="ph1">
<span class="antiqua">Oriental Prisons</span><br />

<span class="large table">PRISONS AND CRIME IN INDIA<br />
THE ANDAMAN ISLANDS<br />
BURMAH&mdash;CHINA&mdash;JAPAN&mdash;EGYPT<br />
TURKEY</span><br />

<span class="small"><i>by</i></span><br />

<span class="large table">MAJOR ARTHUR GRIFFITHS<br />
<span class="small"><i>Late Inspector of Prisons in Great Britain</i></span></span><br />

<span class="small table"><i>Author of<br />
“The Mysteries of Police and Crime<br />
Fifty Years of Public Service,” etc.</i></span><br />

<img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:a:arthur-griffiths-oriental-prisons-colophon.jpg" alt="" /><br />

<span class="small">THE GROLIER SOCIETY</span></p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">iv</span></p>

<p class="caption">
EDITION NATIONALE<br />
<span class="small">Limited to one thousand registered and numbered sets.</span><br />
NUMBER 234<br />
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">v</span></p>

<h2 id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</h2>

<p>It is as true of crime in the Orient as of other
habits, customs and beliefs of the East, that what
has descended from generation to generation and
become not only a tradition but an established fact,
is accepted as such by the people, who display only
a passive indifference to deeds of cruelty and violence.
Each country has its own peculiar classes
of hereditary criminals, and the influence of tradition
and long established custom has made the eradication
of such crimes a difficult matter.</p>

<p>Religion in the East has had a most notable influence
on crime. In India the Thugs or professional
stranglers were most devout and their criminal
acts were preceded by religious rites and ceremonies.
In China the peculiar forms of animism
pervading the religion of the people has greatly
influenced criminal practices. Murder veiled in obscurity
is frequently attributed to some one of the
legion of evil spirits who are supposed to be omnipresent;
and to satisfy and appease these demons
innocent persons are made to suffer. So great, too,
is the power of the spirit after death to cause good
or ill, that many stories are related of victims of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">vi</span>
injustice who have hanged themselves on their persecutors’
door-posts, thus converting their spirits
into wrathful ghosts to avenge them. The firm
belief in ghosts and their power of vengeance and
reward is a great restraint in the practice of infanticide,
as the souls of murdered infants may seek
vengeance and bring about serious calamity.</p>

<p>Oriental prison history is one long record of
savage punishments culminating in the death penalty,
aggravated by abominable tortures. The people
are of two classes, the oppressed and the oppressors,
and the last named have invented many
devices for legal persecution. In early China and
Japan, relentless and ferocious methods were in
force. One of the emperors of China invented a
new kind of punishment, described by Du Halde in
1738, at the instigation of a favourite wife. It was
a column of brass, twenty cubits high and eight in
diameter, hollow in the middle like Phalaris’s Bull,
with openings in three places for putting in fuel.
To this they fastened the criminals, and making
them embrace it with their arms and legs, lighted
a great fire in the inside; and thus roasted them
until they were reduced to ashes.</p>

<p>The first slaves in China were felons deprived of
their liberty. Later the very poor with their families
sold themselves to the rich. Although slavery
has never been largely prevalent owing to the patriarchal
nature of society, all modern writers agree
that it exists in a loathsome form to-day. Parents
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span>
sell their children and girls bring a higher price
than boys.</p>

<p>Who does not know of the peculiar sufferings
and wrongs inflicted for so many generations on
the gentle peasant in the proud land of the Pharaohs,
of whom it is said “that the dust which fills the
air about the Pyramids and the ruined temples is
that of their remote forefathers, who swarmed over
the land, working under the fiery sun and the sharp
scourge for successive races of task-masters&mdash;the
Ethiopian, the Persian, the Macedonian, the Roman,
the Arab, the Circassian and the Turk.”</p>

<p>During the reign of Ismail Pasha we hear of
150,000 men, women and children driven forth from
their villages with whips to perform work without
wages on the Khedive’s lands or in his factories.
It is a heartrending picture.</p>

<p>In earlier times the administration of the country
districts was in the hands of governors appointed
by the Pasha and charged by him with the collection
of taxes and the regulation of the corv&ecirc;&eacute;, or
system of enforced labour, at one time the universal
rule in Egypt. The present system established by
Great Britain is in striking contrast to past cruelties.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span>
<br />
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span></p>

<h2 id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2>

<table>
  <tr>
    <td class="small">CHAPTER</td>
    <td />
    <td class="tdr small">PAGE</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">I.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">Prison System in India</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">9</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">II.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">The Crime of Thuggee</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">42</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">III.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">Ceremonies of Thuggee</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">70</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">IV.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">Dacoity</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">82</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">V.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">Characteristic Crimes</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">124</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">VI.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">The Andaman Islands</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">148</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">VII.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">Prisons of Burmah</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">170</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">VIII.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">Crime in China</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">205</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">IX.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">Enlightened Methods of Japan</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">229</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">X.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">The Law in Egypt</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">243</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td class="tdr">XI.</td>
    <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">Turkish Prisons</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr">269</td>
  </tr>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span>
<br />
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span></p>

<h2>List of Illustrations</h2>

<table>
  <tr>
    <td><a href="#frontis"><span class="smcap">A Prison in Tangier</span></a></td>
    <td colspan="2"><i>Frontispiece</i></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><a href="#i124"><span class="smcap">Execution in India</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdr"><i>Page</i></td>
    <td class="tdr">124</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><a href="#i217"><span class="smcap">Chinese Punishment</span></a></td>
    <td class="tdc">“</td>
    <td class="tdr">217</td>
  </tr>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span></p>

<p class="ph1">PRISONS OF INDIA</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br />

<span class="medium">PRISON SYSTEM IN INDIA</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Lord Macaulay’s work&mdash;Commission appointed to look into
state of prisons&mdash;Appointment of an inspector-general of
gaols&mdash;Charge of district gaols given into the hands of
civil surgeons&mdash;Treatment of juvenile offenders in India&mdash;Prison
discipline&mdash;The employment of convict overseers&mdash;Caste&mdash;Ahmedabad
gaol&mdash;Prison industries&mdash;Alipore Gaol
in Calcutta&mdash;Ameer Khan, the Wahabee&mdash;Description of
the Montgomery gaol&mdash;The prison factory&mdash;Convict officials&mdash;The
gaol of Sirsah&mdash;A native gaol of Orissa.</p>

<p>The prison system in India developed gradually
under the British rule. At first but little attention
was paid to the subject of penal discipline, and the
places of detention were put in the charge of judicial
officers who had complete control of the criminals
in their districts. The judges and magistrates
had but little time to attend to the gaols; the administration
was chiefly in the hands of native
subordinates, and abuses of every kind prevailed,
as might have been expected.</p>

<p>The first important step toward prison reform
was initiated by Lord Macaulay when a member of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span>
the Indian Law Commission in 1835. He suggested
that a committee should be appointed to look
into the state of the prisons in India and to prepare
an improved plan of prison discipline. This suggestion
was readily acceded to by the governor-general,
Sir C. Metcalfe, and a committee composed
of fourteen able and distinguished men was selected
for the purpose. An extract from their report will
best show the existing state of the prisons at that
time, and runs as follows:</p>

<p>“In reviewing the treatment of prisoners in
Indian gaols, although on some points which we
have not failed to throw into a strong light the
humanity of it is doubtful, yet generally the care
that is taken of the physical condition of these unfortunate
men in the great essentials of cleanliness,
attention to the sick and the provision of food and
clothing, appears to us to be highly honourable to
the government of British India. When fair allowance
has been made for the climate of the country
and the habits of the people, we doubt whether
India will not bear a comparison even with England,
where for some years past more money and attention
has been expended to secure the health and
bodily comfort of prisoners than has ever been the
case in any other country of Europe.... It appears
to us that that which has elsewhere been
deemed the first step of prison reform has been
already taken in India. What after many years
was the first good effect of the labours of Howard
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span>
and Neild in England has already been achieved
here. There is no systematic carelessness as to the
circumstances of the prisoner, no niggardly disregard
of his natural wants; he is not left to starve
of cold or hunger or to live on the charity of individuals;
he is not left in filth and stench to sink
under disease without an attempt to cure him; he
is not able to bribe his gaoler in order to obtain the
necessaries which the law allows him. With us in
England, the second stage of prison reform seems
to be nearly the present state of prison discipline in
India. The physical condition of the prisoner has
been looked to, but nothing more, and the consequences
here as in England have been that a prison,
without being the less demoralising, is not a very
pleasant place of residence.... The proportion of
distinct civil gaols to all other gaols is very honourable
to the government. The mixture of the two
sexes in Indian prisons is unknown, and in general
the separation of tried and untried prisoners is at
least as complete in India as in other countries. We
allude to these things, not to give more credit to the
Indian government in these matters than it deserves,
but to show that although we have found much
fault and recommend many reforms, we do not
overlook the fact that much has been already done.”</p>

<p>The second stage in Indian prison reform was the
appointment of an inspector-general of gaols for
every province. This was first tried as an experiment
in the North-western Provinces after some
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span>
hesitation on the part of the government, and it was
proved conclusively by comparison with the statistics
of former years “that the prisoners were generally
more healthy, better lodged, fed and clothed,
that the gaol discipline had been much improved and
that the expenditure had been reduced” in those
prisons which had been placed under the supervision
of an inspector. Upon this evidence the government
decided to make the office a permanent one,
and it was finally established in 1850 in the North-western
Provinces and shortly afterward in the
Punjab, Bengal, Madras and Bombay.</p>

<p>The third important measure toward prison reform
in India was initiated in the North-western
Provinces. Until 1860, the management of the district
gaols had been in the hands of the magistrates
of the surrounding country, but it was found that
owing to the increased pressure of work in the administration
they were unable “to find time to regulate
the management, economy and discipline of the
local prison with the care and exactness which the
pecuniary interests of the government and the purposes
of civil administration demand.” Therefore
the civil surgeon, who had formerly had charge of
the medical department only of the local gaol, was
now given the entire management. This change
was finally sanctioned by the government in 1864,
after due trial which showed that there had been an
improved discipline and an improved economy in all
the gaols in which the experiment had been tried.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span>
In 1864 two other important reforms were introduced:
first,&mdash;that no central gaol (intended for all
prisoners sentenced to a term exceeding one year)
should be built to accommodate more than one thousand
persons; and second,&mdash;that the minimum
space allowed to each prisoner should be 9 feet by 6,
or 54 superficial feet, and 9 feet by 6 by 12, or 648
cubic feet.</p>

<p>Some of the many difficulties in the way of prison
reform besides those of finance are summed up in
Lord Auckland’s resolution upon the prison committee’s
report.</p>

<p>“Every reform of prison discipline is almost of
necessity attended at the outset with extraordinary
expense. To exchange the common herding together
of prisoners of all descriptions for careful
classification; to substitute a strict and useful industry
for idleness or for a light, ill-directed labour;
to provide that the life which is irksome shall not
also be unhealthy, and that the collection of the vicious
shall not be a school of vice,&mdash;are all objects
for the first approach of which large buildings must
be erected, machinery formed and establishments
contrived, and in the perfect attainment and maintenance
of which great disappointment has after every
effort and expense in many countries ensued. In
no country is it likely that greater difficulty will be
experienced than in this for the mere locality of the
prison; that which is healthy in one season may
become a pesthouse by a blast of fever or cholera,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span>
in another. For its form&mdash;the close yard which is
adapted for classification and is not unwholesome in
England, would be a sink of malaria in India. For
food, for labour and for consort there are habits and
an inveteracy of prejudice bearing upon health, opposing
the best management of prisons such as are
not to be encountered elsewhere, and superadded to
all this is the absence of fitting instruments for control
and management, while it is principally upon a
perfect tact and judgment and an unwearying zeal
that the success of every scheme of discipline has
been found to depend.”</p>

<p>The classification of the gaols in the North-western
Provinces and Oude is made according to the
number of persons they can hold, as follows: the
central prisons of the first, second, third and fourth
class; the district prisons, and the lock-ups. In the
central prisons, all prisoners sentenced to rigorous
imprisonment for any period exceeding six months
are confined; in the district prisons all prisoners
sentenced to terms not exceeding three months are
sent for every kind of crime, also civil prisoners and
prisoners committed for trial at the sessions court;
in the lock-ups all prisoners under trial before any
court are lodged.</p>

<p>There are no reformatories for juvenile offenders
in India. The government has so far considered
that there is no need for their establishment. This
conclusion has been arrived at by a comparison between
the state of civilisation in the European countries
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span>
which have adopted this plan of dealing with
juvenile criminals and that of India. In the former
there is a large class of vagrant, deserted and neglected
children, which is quite unknown in the latter
country. The following figures will serve to show
the truth of this assertion. In Ireland, in 1866, out
of a population of 6,000,000, there were 1,060 juveniles,
under sixteen years, committed to prison
for various offences; whereas in the whole of India,
with a population of more than 150,000,000, the
commitment of juveniles was about 2,000 in the
same year.</p>

<p>In the presidency of Bombay there is an institution
of very much the same nature as a reformatory,
called the David Sasson Industrial and Reformatory
Institution, which owes its origin to private
benevolence, but which now receives some support
from public resources. It is quite separate from
the gaols and under different management and control.</p>

<p>In the North-western Provinces “all boys and lads
under eighteen years of age, sentenced to periods
of imprisonment for three months, are transferred
as soon after sentence as possible to the nearest
central prison, where they are placed under a regular
system of education with training in industrial
labour; they are confined in separate cells at night
wherever there are a sufficient number of these for
their accommodation, which is the case at Meerut,
Agra and Gorruckpore, and at all prisons they attend
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span>
school and labour for fixed periods during the
day under directors specially employed for that purpose.
Boys, whether confined in separate cells or
association, are kept, day and night, entirely separate
from the adult prisoners.” In the Punjab there
is a reformatory in connection with the gaol of
Goordaspore to which boys sentenced to more than
six months’ confinement are sent. This reformatory
was first established in the Sealkote gaol in 1862,
but was subsequently removed to Goordaspore. The
warder in charge, the gaol officials, the inspectors
and the teacher approved by the educational department,
are the only adults allowed to enter this yard.
In the majority of district gaols there is a special
yard set aside for juvenile prisoners, and in those
gaols, where no such yard exists, when juvenile prisoners
are received they are placed in cells, or other
arrangements are made for separating them from
the rest of the prisoners at night, and during the
day they are made to work in a part of the yard by
themselves. In the Lahore central gaol there is a
separate yard for juveniles under a specially selected
warder.</p>

<p>Nearly every presidency and province of India
has its gaol code, drawn up under the sanction of
the Prison Acts. That of Bengal was compiled by
Frederic J. Mouat, M. D., and was introduced in
the year 1864. “It borrowed freely,” he says,
“from all the existing European and Indian rules
which seemed to me to be suited for introduction in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span>
lower Bengal, and contained some special provisions
based upon my personal experience, and study of
prison systems at home and abroad.... It defined
in considerable detail the duties, responsibilities and
powers of all classes of prison officers; contained
provisions for the classification and punishment of
all classes of offenders; their management in sickness
and in health; their food, clothing, work, instruction;
and, in fact, every detail of discipline
during their residence in gaol, their transfer from
one prison to another, their discharge, and in the
execution of capital sentences.” Since these rules
were framed a system of remission of sentence as
the reward for good conduct in gaol has been introduced,
based on the principle of what is known as
the Irish system.</p>

<p>One of the chief peculiarities of Indian prison
management is the employment of convicts in the
maintenance of discipline. From the earliest days,
prisoners were employed in the discharge of all the
menial duties of the gaols, cooking, washing,
cleansing, scavengering, husking rice, grinding
corn and the preparation of food. The difficulty of
obtaining trustworthy warders on the salaries allowed,
and the impossibility of preventing the introduction
of forbidden articles through their agency,
led to the trial in the gaol at Alipore of well-behaved,
long-term convicts as prison guards.
They were found to be more reliable than outsiders,
and to discharge their duties more efficiently. The
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span>
practice was adopted in other prisons, and when
conducted with care and discretion, worked so well
that the system has been extended throughout India.
Special provision for it has been made in all the gaol
codes. As a reward for good conduct and strict
obedience to prison rules, all convicts whose behaviour
has been exemplary throughout, and who
have completed the prescribed term of hard labour,
are eligible for the offices of convict warder, guard
and work-overseer. The number employed in these
offices can never exceed ten per cent. of the criminals
in custody. All such appointments are made
with great care and deliberation, and are subject to
the sanction of the head of the prison department,
by whom they are closely watched. They are liable
to forfeiture for serious misconduct or breach of
duty.</p>

<p>As a measure of economy in diminishing the
cost of guarding prisons, and as a means of reformation
in teaching self-respect and self-control, the
plan has been successful everywhere in India, contrary
to the usual experience of penal legislators.
The privilege is much prized, and few prisoners
who have held such offices have relapsed into crime,
while many have obtained positions of trust on the
completion of their sentences.</p>

<p>In the gaols of Bengal the privileges of caste are
respected in general, but no false plea of caste is
permitted to interfere with punishment. With care,
tact and such knowledge of the people committed to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span>
his charge as every officer in command of a prison
ought to possess, no great feeling of dissatisfaction
is likely to arise or to be created. But from the
jealousy with which all proceedings within the prisons
are watched by the outside population, and the
rapidity with which intelligence regarding them is
spread, it is evident that extreme care must continue
to be observed in the matter. While it is well known
that imprisonment with its enforced associations is
always attended with loss of caste, that, however,
is readily restored by the performance of slight
penances on release. It is instructive to find, on
tracing them throughout the country, how the same
castes, whatever differences of names they bear, are
most prone to the commission of the same classes
of crime.</p>

<p>Again, it is strange to discover that belief in
witchcraft and the existence of witch-finders is a
source of crime in the East at the present time.
Among the Kols, an aboriginal race in the south-west
of Bengal, each village is supposed to have a
tutelar divinity, generally an evil spirit to whom is
assigned all the sickness, epidemics, diseases and
misfortunes which occur in the village. To this
spirit certain lands are assigned, and the produce
of this land is used in propitiatory sacrifices. The
existence of this superstition is said to be a frequent
cause of murder and extortion. The Kols believe
in the powers of divination of “witch-finders,” who
are usually consulted when anything untoward occurs
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span>
in a village. This witch-finder, who often lives
at a distance, performs certain absurd ceremonials,
and pretends through them to discover who in the
village has caused the anger of the tutelar deity.
The person denounced is generally called upon to
pay handsomely for the evil caused, and usually
does so, but if he refuses he is frequently murdered,
and whether he pays or not, if the misfortune does
not cease he is driven from the village, if no worse
fate overtakes him. All this is done in the utmost
good faith, faith as absolute as that with which
witch-hunting was pursued by the puritans of Scotland
and America.</p>

<p>Sir Richard Temple, one of the most famous of
India’s recent proconsuls, passes an approving verdict
upon Indian prisons as they existed to the date
of his volume, “India in 1880.” He was of the
opinion that they were managed conscientiously and
as far as possible, with the means available, according
to accepted principles. They erred perhaps in
construction, and showed many shortcomings as regards
sanitation and disciplinary supervision, but an
earnest desire to improve them has animated the
Indian government and its officials. Native states,
a little tardily, perhaps, have followed suit, and
many possess prisons imitating some of the best
points of the British system. They long clung,
however, to the old barbarous methods of punishment,
such as short periods of detention with flogging,
various kinds of fining, compensation to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span>
the relatives of murdered men, and mutilation in
cases of grave robbery. A capital sentence was very
rarely inflicted.</p>

<p>Gradually public opinion in India awoke to the
belief that something more than mere penal detention
was needed for the treatment of prisoners.
Outdoor labour, chiefly employed hitherto, was
deemed injurious to health and demoralising to discipline,
entailing undue expense in staff and guards;
and so employment within the walls was substituted,
with organised industries and manufactures by hand
and with the help of machinery. The work done
includes the weaving of carpets, which have a certain
value and reputation, and much cotton and other
fibres are manufactured; and the prisoners work at
printing, lithography and other useful trades. The
rules for wearing irons and fetters have been revised,
and a consistent attempt has been made at
classification by separating the old habitual criminals
from the less hardened offenders. The system of
earning remission by industry and good conduct,
as practised in the British prisons, has been introduced
with good results. Sanitation and ventilation
have been much improved, so that mortality has
greatly diminished. Solitary confinement is enforced
as a means of discipline, but the cellular
separation of prisoners by night makes only slow
progress, and the association of all classes, good,
bad and indifferent has a generally injurious effect
upon prisoners.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span></p>

<p>According to Sir Richard Temple’s figures, there
were in his time more than two hundred prisons in
all India, exclusive of 386 lock-ups, and the daily
average of inmates was 118,500, of whom only
5,500 were females. The annual number of crimes
committed and charged was 880,000, and as more
than one person is often concerned, the number of
persons tried amounted to 970,000, of whom
550,000 were convicted, the balance being under
trial or discharged. The labours devolving upon
the police were obviously severe, and the prisons
were always full.</p>

<p>Among the leading Indian prisons of to-day, one
of the largest, the Ahmedabad gaol, was originally
a Mohammedan college and was converted to its
present purpose in 1820. Miss Mary Carpenter,
who visited it in 1868, describes the gaol as follows:
“It is a fine-looking building and near the citadel,
but not of course well adapted to its present purpose,
though the large space enclosed by the buildings
gives it great capabilities of improvement. The first
thing which struck us painfully was that the men
had irons on their legs. This barbaric custom,
which has long been exploded in our own country,
is here preserved and is indeed general in India in
consequence of the usual insecurity of the premises.
The prisoners were working in large open sheds
with little appearance of confinement. A number
were occupied in weaving strong cotton carpets
which appeared well calculated for wear. Others
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span>
were making towelling of various kinds, very strong
and good, from the cotton grown in the neighbourhood,
while others were manufacturing pretty little
cocoa mats and baskets. There was in general a
criminal look in the culprits; they were working
with good-will and appeared interested in their occupation,
as in an ordinary factory. Except the
chains, there was nothing of a penal description in
the scene around us; and although this cheerful
open place, with work at useful trades, might not
give the intended feeling of punishment, still it was
to be hoped that training these men to useful labour,
under good moral influences, must have a beneficial
influence on their future lives. On remarking this
to the superintendent, he informed me that the salutary
effect of the day’s work under proper supervision
was completely neutralised, or even worse,
by the corrupting influences of the night.</p>

<p>“There are four hundred prisoners in this gaol,
for whom the number of sleeping cells is totally inadequate
and three or four are consequently locked
up together in the dark for twelve hours. There is
no possibility during this period of preventing communication
of the most corrupting nature, both
moral and physical. No man convicted of a first
offence can enter this place&mdash;which ought to be
one of punishment and attempted reformation&mdash;without
the greatest probability of contamination
and gaining experience in evil from the adepts
in crime who are confined with him; no young
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span>
boy can enter without his fate being sealed for
life.</p>

<p>“Juvenile delinquents, casual offenders, hardened
thieves sentenced to a long term of imprisonment,
are all herded together without any possibility of
proper classification or separation. The condition
of the thirty-two whom I had seen at the court on
the day before was even worse than the others; they
were all penned up together without work. There
they had been for many months; and still they all
were without any attempt being made to give them
instruction, which might improve their moral and
intellectual condition. This state of things was not
owing to any neglect on the part of the superintendent,
a man of enlightened benevolence, who devoted
himself heart and soul to his work. The conditions
of this gaol are such that though able and willing
to remedy all these evils if authority and means were
given to him, under the existing circumstances he
is powerless. There is ample room on the premises
for him to construct separate cells for all the prisoners
with only the cost of material, but this is not
granted to him; he cannot therefore carry out the
printed regulations that the prisoners are not to be
made worse while in custody. The regulations
direct that the juveniles shall be separated from the
adults; this is now simply impossible. Rules are
made that the prisoners shall receive instruction, but
no salary is allowed for a schoolmaster; there is no
place appropriated for instruction and no time is
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span>
granted for schooling; there are ten hours for
labour, two hours are requisite for meals and rest
and during the remainder of the twenty-four hours
the prisoners are locked up. It is indeed permitted
by the regulations that some prisoners may be employed
as instructors but with the proviso that their
hours of labour shall not be abridged for the purpose.
Such instructors could not be expected to
exercise any good moral influence on the other prisoners;
yet to commence with these, if any educated
men were among them, might lead to some better
arrangement. The old college hall might possibly
be employed as a schoolroom for a couple of hours
after sunset; but light would then be required and
oil did not form a part of the authorised expenditure.
There were, then, obstacles to any kind of
instruction being imparted to the prisoners which
no amount of earnestness on the part of the officials
or the superintendent could surmount.</p>

<p>“On inquiring whether there were any females
in the gaol, we were conducted to a small separate
court where in a dismal ward there were some
miserable women employed in drudgery work.
There were no female attendants and indeed no
attempt appeared to be made to improve their
wretched condition. I felt grieved and shocked
that in any part of the British dominions women
who were rendered helpless by being deprived of
liberty, and thus fell under our special responsibility,
should be so utterly uncared for as to be left
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span>
under the superintendence of male warders and
without any means of improvement. In all these
observations I found that I had the full accordance
of the superintendent; who, so far from being annoyed
at the discovery of so many evils in this place,
only rejoiced that some one should add force to his
own representations by an independent testimony.
He stated that he understood it to be in contemplation
to build a large central gaol for the long-sentenced
prisoners; the removal of these from his
own gaol would of course remedy the overcrowding,
though it would not enable each prisoner to
have a separate cell. In the meantime the evils were
very great from a sanitary as well as from a moral
point of view. On one occasion more than a hundred
had died owing to a want of good sanitary
arrangements. Immediate attention to the condition
of this gaol appeared therefore necessary. Considering
this as a common gaol without long-sentenced
prisoners, the following points suggested
themselves as necessary to carry out the intentions
of government. First, a number of well-ventilated
sleeping cells should be constructed without delay,
so as to enable every prisoner to have a separate
cell for sleeping. Second, a trained and efficient
teacher should be engaged to carry out instruction;
arrangements should be made to provide a cheerful
and well-lighted schoolroom. Educated prisoners
may be employed as assistant teachers; these should
be specially trained and instructed by the headmaster
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span>
in their labour hours so as to provide as
efficient a staff as possible. Third, the mark system
and classification should be carried out. Fourth,
prisoners awaiting trial should be kept in separation,
but not under penal condition; the female department
should be completely remodelled under
female warders; all the advantages provided for the
men should be given to the women.”</p>

<p>Mr. Routledge, speaking of the Alipore Gaol in
Calcutta which he visited in 1878, says:&mdash;</p>

<p>“It contained 2,500 persons when I saw it, and
with a few exceptions, as in the case of those undergoing
punishment, all were employed in remunerative
labour. There were masons erecting buildings,
weavers making gunny-bag cloth of jute, a
factory of jute-spinners, lithographers, painters,
carpenters, blacksmiths and many other classes of
workmen, all engaged in task work. If they exceeded
the task a small sum was carried to their
credit to be paid to them on leaving gaol. An
amusing story was told of a shrewd Yorkshireman
who when sent out to “manage a jute mill” was
faced by the reality of some hundreds of criminals
not one of whom knew anything of the work. First
he despaired; then he hoped a little; finally he succeeded
and had a capital jute mill. Dr. Faucus, the
governor of the prison, told me that the men they
sent out with trades hardly ever had returned; and
there was an instance of a man whose time had expired
begging permission to remain a little longer
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span>
in gaol to more completely learn his trade. It was
to my view a humane and judicious system.</p>

<p>“Eighteen months later I visited the Presidency
Gaol in Calcutta, and the governor, Dr. Mackenzie,
kindly showed me the wonders of the place. We
saw in the yard, ‘a mild Bengalee,’ whom flogging,
short diet and even the dreaded solitary confinement
had failed to compel to work. ‘He is one of the
few prisoners who ever beat me,’ the governor said.
A hundred or so of the prisoners were breaking
stones; some were on the tread-mill, a frightful
punishment under such a sun; some were mat-making,
on very heavy looms. We came to a separate
cell, the inmate of which was a loose-jointed,
misshapen, weak-looking, thin-faced native man,
apparently about twenty-five years of age, though
he might, for anything one could judge, have been
any age from eighteen to forty. ‘That,’ said the
governor, ‘was one of the most daring and relentless
Dacoits we have ever had.’ In a cell a few yards
distant, there was a grave and venerable looking
old man who had attained the very highest grade
in a different profession&mdash;that of a forger. He
had been convicted in attempting to obtain money
from an officer&mdash;I think the head of the police&mdash;by
means of a letter purporting to be written by
Mr. Reilly, the well-known detective. The forgery
was perfect, and no one would have disputed the
letter but for one small mistake; the two initial
letters of Mr. Reilly’s Christian name were transposed.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span>
This interesting old gentleman when questioned
as to the amount of work he had done, put
his hands together and gravely confessed that it was
far short of the task. The governor spoke sternly
and threatened short diet. Evidently the old artist
was out of his vocation when attempting slow, patient
work. When the same question was put to
the Dacoit he pleaded pitifully, ‘Only four bags, but
I’ll do forty to-morrow.’ Forty was the number
required to be sewed per day.</p>

<p>“There were many wealthy natives among the
prisoners; and I was sorry to find a number of
English sailors and soldiers committed for deserting
regiments or ships. It was impossible to look
upon them as criminals. They were kept apart from
the other prisoners. Some of them were very fine
fellows, who probably never were in prison before
nor would be again. Another class was that of the
vagrants, termed ‘loafers.’ There were some very
respectable looking men among them, ‘turned away
from the railways,’ they said, or ‘brought from
Australia in charge of horses and then dismissed’&mdash;the
most prolific source of ‘loaferism’ in India.</p>

<p>“Six young native boys were separated from the
rest. They had their own yard and each a little
garden and a division of work. One was cook, another
housemaid, and so on. They were drawn up
in line and questioned, the cook first.</p>

<p>“‘What are you here for?’
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span></p>

<p>“‘Murder; I struck another boy on the head and
killed him.’</p>

<p>“‘And you?’</p>

<p>“‘Murder; I threw a child into a well.’</p>

<p>“The answers were given as if they had related
to common matters. We went no further in the
list. An Indian prison is marvellous for its mixture
of races. The Hindu cannot eat with the Mussulman.
To step inside a cookhouse is to defile it even
for prisoners. Yet even Brahmins, old offenders,
had been known to beg for the office of <i>mehtars</i>
(sweepers, lowest menials), so great was their dread
of the hard labour.</p>

<p>“What were called the ‘non-habituals’ were employed
as at Alipore and taught trades where necessary.
I noticed particularly an intelligent Chinaman
busy at the lathe. I said, ‘He never gave you
any trouble?’ ‘No; he was entrapped into a robbery,
caught and convicted, and he immediately
made the best of his position. He is a quiet, respectful,
intelligent man.’ He spoke English like
an Englishman. There were several Chinamen in
the prison and all of the same class. We came to
a long line of men, seated on the ground, engaged
in hand spinning; the fourth from one end was old
Ameer Khan, the Wahabee. He was a tall man,
I should say nearly seventy years of age, stout, with
flabby cheeks, a rather fine forehead and an extraordinarily
furtive eye.”</p>

<p>The trial of Ameer Khan, the Wahabee, caused
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span>
a great sensation in the Indian law courts in the year
1870. The Wahabees were a sect founded by a
young Arab pilgrim of Damascus, named Abd-el
Wahab, who endeavoured to reform the Mohammedan
faith by denouncing the corruptions that had
crept in and by calling upon Mussulmans to “return
to their primitive church with its simplicity of manners
and purity of morals.” The movement spread
into India, where it gained great success with the
Sunnis, themselves puritans, but it was fiercely
hated by the Mohammedans, who had deteriorated
greatly under the English rule, and there was great
danger of an insurrection. In 1858 Sir Sydney
Cotton had stormed the stronghold of the Wahabees
at Sittana and razed the villages of their allies to
the ground. In 1869 the government received information
that the Wahabees had issued a propaganda
from Sittana and Patna which was to be
spread throughout India, and again found it necessary
to take steps to suppress the Wahabees.
Among others, Ameer Khan, a Mussulman banker
and money lender of Calcutta, was suddenly arrested
in July, 1869, on no stated charge. He applied
for a writ of habeas corpus, but was refused.
He appealed to the Supreme Court, and then began
the famous trial which lasted six months. In December
Ameer Khan was released from Alipore
gaol, but he was immediately rearrested, as it had
been discovered that he had been apprehended by
a warrant about which there was some question.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span>
He was then tried before a civilian judge at Patna,
where the offences were alleged to have been committed,
and was sentenced to imprisonment for life.
He was found guilty of acting as agent and supplying
money for the Wahabee propaganda.</p>

<p>The religious tenets of the Wahabees are still
professed by many of the Arabs and are admitted
to be orthodox by the most learned of the <i>‘ulamas</i>
of Egypt. The Wahabees are merely reformers,
who believe all the fundamental points of El-Islam
and all the accessory doctrines of the Koran and the
“Traditions of the Prophets;” in short, their tenets
are those of the primitive Moslems. They disapprove
of gorgeous sepulchres and domes erected
over tombs; such they invariably destroy when in
power. They also condemn as idolaters those who
pay peculiar veneration to deceased saints; and even
declare all other Moslems to be heretics for the extravagant
respect which they pay to the prophet.
They forbid the wearing of silk, gold ornaments
and all costly apparel, and also the practice of smoking
tobacco. For the want of this last luxury they
console themselves in some degree by an immoderate
use of coffee. There are many learned men
among them, and they have collected many valuable
books, chiefly historical, from various parts of
Arabia and from Egypt.</p>

<p>The Montgomery gaol in the Punjab, one of the
largest in India, was recently visited by Captain
Buck of the Indian army, and his description of the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span>
details of prison life there is exceedingly interesting.</p>

<p>Attached to the gateway are not only the prison
offices, barracks for the warders and an armory,
but a queer looking room where well-behaved prisoners
may receive friends once in three months.
The room is divided by bars into three parts. In
the portion at one end the prisoner squats, his visitor
stays in the part at the other end and a gaoler or
assistant sits in the middle space, where he can make
sure that no smuggling goes on or that no attempts
at escape are made.</p>

<p>The prisoners become very clever and use all sorts
of devices to smuggle in coins, tobacco, opium and
other drugs and dice. They are allowed to wear
their own shoes, but these are examined very carefully,
for the soles are frequently found to be made
of tobacco, four-anna pieces and other things than
leather. “A common dodge,” says Captain Buck,
“among the prisoners for concealing coins and
other small things is to make a receptacle in the
throat by means of a leaden weight about the diameter
of a florin and half an inch thick; this is attached
to a string some six inches long, a knot in
the end being slipped between two teeth to prevent
it sliding down the throat. By holding the head in
a particular position for some time every day, ‘waggling’
the weight about, and from time to time
altering the length of the string, a pouch can be
formed in the throat suitable for holding as many
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span>
as fifteen rupees. The possessor of this strange
‘safe’ is able to put in and take out his treasure
with facility, but it is exceedingly difficult to make
a man disgorge the contents against his will, or even
to find out whether he possesses the pouch at all
without the use of the R&ouml;ntgen rays.”</p>

<p>The Montgomery gaol is as large as a small town,
and contains two great enclosures surrounded by
a high outside wall, three spaces at the back for
work shops, a separate yard for the female ward and
such other buildings as storehouses, pumping stations
and granaries. All of the buildings are constructed
of burnt brick, but the walls are made of
sun-dried brick and are kept in repair and plastered
by gaol labour. The menial work is performed by
the prisoners, and caste prejudices have been consulted
in apportioning this work to the different
classes of prisoners. The lower castes do scavengering
and general cleaning, while the dyer, washerman,
barber, tailor, blacksmith and weaver are all,
as far as possible, employed at their respective professions.
Other prisoners who have worked at
trades which the gaol does not afford are given
work in the factories.</p>

<p>The factories are the most interesting part of the
gaol at Montgomery. Carpets are made in many
beautiful patterns. A carpet over fifty feet wide
can be woven on the largest loom, and it is an interesting
sight to see a row of twenty-five men engaged
in pulling the threads from the many coloured
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span>
balls of wool above their heads, slipping them
into place and with a small curved knife cutting off
the ends, pressing down the stitches with a wooden
fork, and never making a mistake. The pattern is
read out by convicts stationed behind a loom, sometimes
from patterns, sometimes from books and
often from memory. To the uninitiated these instructions
are incomprehensible, for there is such
a confusion of sounds that it is difficult to distinguish
any one voice. The marvel of it is how each
man knows what colours to use and where. Somehow
or other, in spite of all the noise and confusion,
dust and glare, these lovely carpets are produced.
The ordinary woollen carpet costs from sixteen to
twenty-four shillings a square yard, according to
the number of stitches to the inch, but the prices
range higher for specially selected wool, while the
price of a silk carpet is almost a small fortune.</p>

<p>Another part of the factory contains the cloth
looms. The weavers rig up their looms in the same
manner as they would in their native villages, and
consequently the yard appears to be in considerable
disorder; “each weaver sits at his own little loom
with his legs in a hole in the ground and flashes the
spindle backwards and forwards, seldom wasting
his time for fear he may not finish his day’s job, and
thus lose marks or fail to gain any. One man, in
training, has to complete nine yards of the duster-cloth,
three-quarters of a yard wide, in a day; fifteen
yards of blanketing four feet, eight inches wide,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span>
is another task; while a man working on a carpet,
‘<i>munj</i>-mat,’ or cotton mat, has to work on a width
of two feet and complete four inches, twelve feet
and two feet respectively in one day.” If a prisoner
is able to do extra work he obtains marks and gains
some remission from his sentence.</p>

<p>The dormitories contain curious looking long
rooms with passages down the middle and on each
side rows of couches made of hard baked mud. The
prisoners are provided with blankets and mattresses
made of rice straw, and they can be fairly comfortable.
Even beds made out of such material have
been diverted to other uses by the ingenious inmates.
A convict is said to have made a pipe out
of his bed. By hollowing out a place near the head
of the bed and plastering it over, he made two holes,
one to hold the tobacco and ashes, and the other to
serve as a mouthpiece.</p>

<p>As an additional precautionary measure to prevent
plague from entering the gaol, every prisoner
who catches a rat and produces it alive is given a
reward of ten marks. This is a distinct gain toward
a shorter sentence, for twenty-four marks means
one day’s remission. It has been surmised, as the
rats are very numerous in the gaol in spite of wire
netting everywhere placed to keep them out, that
either the warders arrange to bring them in or the
prisoners maintain reserves for breeding purposes.</p>

<p>The cook-house is in the yard where the men
are paraded. Two meals are served daily, one at
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span>
7.30 <small>A. M.</small> and the other after 5 <small>P. M.</small>, but in addition
a little parched boiled <i>gram</i> is given to each
convict in the middle of the day, when there is a
short recess from work. Besides the large <i>chupattis</i>,
made of wheat and Indian corn, a few ounces of
<i>dal</i> are served in the morning, and vegetables with
condiments in the evening. All the vegetables and
condiments are produced by the convicts in the
large garden attached to the gaol.</p>

<p>It is said that no convict has ever gotten away
altogether, but that those who manage to escape
occasionally are always recaptured. As the gaol is
situated in a large desert, tracking the runaways is
comparatively easy. On one occasion, a man was
apparently missing at evening roll-call. For considerable
time his identity could not be ascertained,
but after a thorough search and re-checking, it was
remembered that a murderer had been hanged that
day, and the officials had failed to strike his name
from the roll.</p>

<p>The hospital is exceedingly clean and well kept.
The routine of the gaol generally runs smoothly,
and the character of the treatment and discipline in
this typical prison of India will bear comparison
with that in many institutions of a like kind at home
and abroad.</p>

<p>Some of the local gaols in India are worth a passing
mention. A good specimen was that of Sirsah
on the confines of the Bikaneer desert. Colonel
Hervey visited it and speaks of it as a model
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span>
gaol. He says, “Its lofty walls are shielded by a
covered way running round its top. It has an outer
and an inner ditch at the foot of the walls, and
upward-sloping towers at its four corners, resembling
the castles of a chess-board. The prisoners in
it were warmly clothed and looked sleek, and being
told off to healthful although hard labour, they ate
with eagerness their diet of curried meat, curried
<i>shorwah</i>, or soup, and wheaten cakes. This was
served out to them plentifully while I was there.
They sat down on the ground in lines without reference
to castes, and all promiscuously partook of the
food set before them. I was astonished at this, for
there is generally so much difficulty in the matter
of food, owing to caste prejudices.”</p>

<p>Another interesting native gaol is that of Orissa,
visited by Sir William Hunter in 1872. He says:
“It consisted of a courtyard with low thatched
sheds running round three sides and the guard-house
on the fourth. The shed roofs came so low
that a child might have jumped on to them and thus
got over the wall. When the guard turned out,
moreover, we found it to consist of two very old
men; and the Maharaja was rather displeased to
find that one of them had his matchlock under repair
at the blacksmith’s, while the other had left
his weapon in his own village, ten miles off, to protect
his family during his period of service at court.
Inside were sixty-nine prisoners, and I asked how
it came that they did not, under the circumstances,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span>
all jump over the wall? The question seemed to
strike the Maharaja as a particularly foolish one.
‘Where could they go?’ he said. ‘On the rare
occasion that a prisoner breaks gaol, it is only to pay
a visit to his family; and the villagers, as in duty
bound, return him within a few days.’ The truth
is that the family instinct is still so strong in the
tributary states that imprisonment, or even death
itself, seems infinitely preferable to running away
from kindred and home. There were no female
prisoners, and the Maharaja stated that crime
among women had not yet penetrated his country.</p>

<p>“I found the gang divided into two sections, each
of which had a shed to itself on the opposite sides
of the court, the shed of the third side being set
apart for cooking. The one shed was monopolised
by ten men whose light complexion declared them
to belong to the trading class and who lolled at
great ease and in good clothes in their prison house.
In the other shed the remaining fifty-nine were
crowded, packed as closely as sardines and with no
other clothing except a narrow strip round their
waist. On expressing my surprise at this unequal
treatment and asking whether the ten gentlemen
who took their ease were confined for lighter
crimes, the Maharaja explained: ‘On the contrary,
these ten men are the plagues of the state. They
consist of fraudulent shop-keepers who receive
stolen goods, and notorious bad characters who organise
robberies. The other fifty-nine are poor
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span>
Pans and other jungle people imprisoned for petty
theft, or as the tools of the ten prisoners on the
opposite side. But then the ten are respectable men
and of good caste, while the fifty-nine are mere
woodmen; and it is only proper to maintain God’s
distinction of caste.’ All the prisoners were in irons
except one, a lame man, whose fetters had been
struck off on the report of the native doctor. They
looked very fat and comfortable, as indeed they well
might considering that the sixty-nine prisoners have
an allowance of a hundred pounds of rice per diem,
with goat’s flesh once a fortnight, fish twice a
month, besides the little daily allowance of split
peas and spices to season their food. It did not
seem to have occurred to any of them to feel in the
least ashamed on account of being in gaol. One of
them had been imprisoned twice before, and on my
asking him what his trade was he explained that the
younger brothers of his family were husbandmen,
but that for his part he nourished his stomach by
thieving.”</p>

<p>No European country can show anything like the
immunity from crime which the worst district in
Orissa enjoys. In Balasor, the proportion of persons
in gaol is one to every 3,375 of the population,
or one female to every 121,278 of the population.
Puri district, however, the seat of the so-called
“abominations of Jagannath,” would blush to own
such an overwhelming criminal population. Including
both the central and the subdivisional gaols, the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span>
proportion is one criminal always in prison to every
six thousand of the population and one woman to
every hundred thousand.</p>

<p>The gaol is a great institution in Indian and
Burmese stations. Your <i>syce</i> breaks the shaft of
your dogcart; send it round to the gaol to be repaired.
New matting is wanted for the veranda;
you can get it in the gaol. You want a piece of
furniture; whether it be a wardrobe or a whist
table, you will find what you require in the gaol
workshop, and if there does not happen to be one
ready, you can order it to be made. They take a
longer time to do it than free artisans, but you can
depend upon sound material, good workmanship
and reasonable prices; so the gaol industries flourish
and the cost of supporting the criminal classes
falls with comparative lightness upon taxpayers.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br />

<span class="medium">THE CRIME OF THUGGEE</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Difficulties experienced in administering justice&mdash;Perjury
common&mdash;Native officers delight in torture&mdash;Various devices
used to extort evidence&mdash;Characteristics of the Indian
criminal&mdash;Crime hereditary&mdash;Thugs’ method of
strangling victims&mdash;Facilities afforded by the nature of
the country&mdash;The river Thugs&mdash;Suppression of Thuggee
gangs and their operations.</p>

<p>Crime in India does not differ essentially from
that prevalent elsewhere, although some forms are
indigenous to the country, engendered by special
physical and social conditions. As a rule, the people
of India are law abiding, orderly and sober in character,
but there is an inherent deceitfulness in them
that tends to interfere with the course of justice.
This is constantly seen in the untrustworthy evidence
so often given in court. Witnesses are either
reticent or too fluent; they will conceal facts or
over-colour them according as it serves their interests;
they can be bought, or intimidated, or easily
persuaded. It has been said of India that perjury
is the rule and not the exception; it is a country in
which no man desires to tell the simple truth or the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span>
whole truth, where exaggeration is perfectly natural
and mendacity revels in the incredible minuteness
with which false statements are made, so perfect
indeed as to cast discredit on them at once when
heard. Perjury has long been a flagrant evil
thwarting the administration of justice, and is still
frequent, although likely to decrease as social standards
improve. The people chafe at police investigation
which worries and irritates them and will
say almost anything if it will rid them of the attentions
of the officers of the law. “They would condone
even grievous wrongs,” says Sir Richard Temple,
“disavow the loss of property which they had
suffered, and withhold all assistance from their
neighbours in similar plights, rather than undergo
the trouble of attending at police offices and criminal
courts.” In the old days police methods for the
detection and proof of crime were often reprehensible.
Native officers were ever eager to make a
case complete and would go to any length in colouring
and creating evidence. An eminent judge in
India found great fault with the police who “would
never leave a case alone, but must always prepare
it and patch it up by teaching the witnesses to learn
their evidence beforehand and to say more than
they knew.” A village official would be so eager
to succeed when others had failed that he would
threaten and maltreat the witnesses till they invented
merely imaginery evidence. It was the frequent
custom to drug prisoners about to be charged
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span>
so that they could make no defence, and when evidence
was wanting, the witness was subjected to
actual torture until he promised to depose as required.</p>

<p>This use of torture, secret and unavowed, for the
purposes of the prosecution, prevailed until a recent
date. Disgusted English officers vainly sought to
check the pernicious practice, which was common
throughout India among all sects and classes,
though strictly forbidden by law. According to
one authority, “The poor practise torture on each
other, robbers on their victims; masters upon their
servants; zemindars on their ryots; schoolmasters
on their pupils; husbands on their wives and even
parents on their children.” “The very plays of the
populace,” says another, “excite the laughter of
many a rural audience by the exhibition of revenue
squeezed out of a defaulter, coin by coin, through
the appliance of familiar provocatives.” Some of
these as employed by the old police consisted of such
devices as filling the nose and ears of a prisoner with
cayenne pepper, checking the circulation of the blood
with tight ligaments, suspending a person head
downward in a well and sometimes immersing the
whole body in deep water until insensibility but not
actual drowning was caused.</p>

<p>Other processes are recounted by Dr. Cheevers.
Torture by heat consisted in applying to the naked
flesh a lighted torch, burning charcoal or red hot
tongs, or by pouring boiling oil into the ears or
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span>
nose. Torture by cold was inflicted by exposure of
the victim naked in the night air and constantly
sprinkling the body with freezing water. Other
methods were: suspension by the ears, wrists, feet,
hair or moustache, generally accompanied by severe
beating with rods, wet stinging nettles, bunches of
thorns, or cudgels of split bamboo; confinement in
a cell containing quicklime; rubbing the face on the
ground so that the nose was wounded, the lips torn
and the upper jaw fractured; fastening offensive
and gnawing insects under cover upon the skin;
sticking pins under the nails; beating the ankles
and other joints with a soft mallet. The bull’s hide
torture showed devilish ingenuity. The victim was
sewed up in a newly flayed skin and exposed to the
torrid sun. The outer covering contracted with the
heat, drawing the live flesh with it, and the poor
agonised creature died gradually of hunger, thirst
and putrifaction.</p>

<p>Milder tortures, as they were deemed, existed, in
which the punishment was more gradual but not
less acute. Roasting by exposure to sun or fire,
running up and down or “walking about,” a process
in which relays of policemen keep a culprit on
the move for hours and hours together, so that,
after a night’s unbroken promenade, the craving for
rest and sleep becomes intolerable, especially with
people accustomed to sleep for twelve or fourteen
hours at a stretch. The prolonged use of the stocks
was at one time very general in Bengal, sometimes
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span>
with the limbs enclosed in small apertures too tight
for them, or when the victim lay on his back with
his feet raised high in the air for a period of twenty-four
hours.</p>

<p>Indian criminal annals record many curious
forms of crime more or less peculiar to the country,
and it will be interesting to specify some of the
best known. Many are as old as the hills and are
directly traceable to the innate character and distinguishing
traits of the various races that people
the great peninsula of Hindustan. There is a
family likeness in the offences against morality and
the rules generally binding upon the community at
large, but some are encouraged and facilitated by
the condition and organisation of the daily life of the
people. Profound observers have penetrated to the
darker and deeper recesses of the criminal mind of
the native, both Hindu and Mussulman. Under the
often placid, timid, civil-spoken and seemingly
harmless native there lies a strange but potent combination
of sensuality, jealousy and vindictiveness,
backed by wild, ineradicable superstition, absolute
untruthfulness and ruthless disregard for the value
of human life. This is especially true of the Bengali,
whose character has been powerfully portrayed
by Lord Macaulay. A feeble, effeminate creature
of sedentary pursuits, with delicate limbs, and without
courage, independence or veracity, he is full of
tact, ready with large promises, smooth excuses,
elaborate tissues of circumstantial falsehood. With
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span>
all his softness, he is by no means placable in his
enmities or prone to pity, but is pertinacious in his
purposes and dominated only by the immediate
pressure of fear.</p>

<p>Custom has been largely the parent of crime in
India, and nowhere has heredity exercised greater
influence. A large proportion of offences in India
are committed by persons whose ancestors have
done the same for centuries. Strong belief in the
strength of family tradition and the potency of inherited
traits and tendencies have long filled the
Indian gaols. To these causes we must trace the
vitality of certain crimes; we find in them the explanation
of persistent gang-robberies, “Dacoity,”
the drugging and poisoning of travellers, the kidnapping
of children, the forgery, the forest frauds,
the infanticide and secret murders; the whole series
of offences against which is directed the penal code
of India, originated by Lord Macaulay and praised
by the highest experts, including Sir James
Stephen, as the best system of criminal law in the
world.</p>

<p>When England’s work in India is reviewed in
the time to come, full credit must be given to the
humane administration which sternly suppressed
the atrocious malpractices that so long afflicted the
land, such as “Suttee,” or the burning of widows
on the funeral pyre; the human sacrifices to the
bloodthirsty idol of Jagannath; “Thuggee,” that
vile organisation for secret murder which devastated
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span>
the entire continent and killed so many unsuspecting
victims. No more terrible and widespread
crime has obtained in any age or country. It was
fostered by the prevailing conditions in a vast extent
of territory, divided among many princes and
powers, each ruling independently and irresponsibly,
with many kinds of governments, and with their
hands one against the other, having no common interests,
no desire for combination, no united police,
no uniform action in the repression of determined
wrong-doing. Everything conspired to favour the
growth of these daring and unscrupulous land pirates.</p>

<p>There were no roads in those early days, no
public conveyances, no means of protection for travellers.
The longest journeys from one end of the
continent to the other were undertaken of necessity
on foot or on horseback; parties hitherto complete
strangers banded together for common security, and
mixed unreservedly with one another. The avenues
of communication were at best mere tracks barely
beaten down by the passage of wayfarers across
country and not always easily distinguished, so that
it was possible to wander into by-paths and get lost
among the forests, jungles, mountains and uncultivated
tracts where but few sparsely inhabited villages
were scattered. Direct encouragement was
thus afforded to freebooters and highwaymen to
make all travellers their prey, and many classes of
robbers existed and flourished. Of these the most
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span>
numerous, the most united, the most secret in their
horrible operations, the most dangerous and destructive
were the Thugs.</p>

<p>The origin of Thuggee, as it was commonly
called, is lost in fable and obscurity. Mr. James
Hutton, in his popular account of the Thugs, thinks
that they are of very ancient date and says they are
“reputed to have sprung from the Sagartii who
contributed eight thousand horse to the army of
Xerxes and are mentioned by Herodotus in his history.
These people led a pastoral life, were originally
of Persian descent and use the Persian language;
their dress is something betwixt a Persian
and a Pactyan; they have no offensive weapons,
either of iron or brass, except their daggers; their
principal dependence in action is on cords made of
twisted leather which they use in this manner.
When they engage an enemy they throw out this
cord having a noose at the extremity; if they entangle
in this either horse or man, they without
difficulty put them to death.” There is some reason
to believe that in later times the descendants of
these Sagartii accompanied one of the Mohammedan
invaders to India and settled in the neighbourhood
of Delhi. In the latter part of the seventeenth
century Thevenot speaks of a strange denomination
of robbers who infest the road between Delhi and
Agra and who use “a certain rope with a running
noose which they could cast with so much sleight
about a man’s neck when they are within reach of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span>
him, that they never fail; so that they strangle him
in a trice.” These robbers were divided into seven
principal classes or families from which the innumerable
smaller bands sprang.</p>

<p>Sir William Sleeman, a distinguished Indian official,
whose signal services in purging a large part
of India of this terrible scourge must ever be gratefully
remembered, has conjectured that the first
Thugs were to be found among the vagrant tribes
of Mohammedans who continued to plunder the
country long after its invasion by the Moguls and
Tartars. No historical mention is made of Thuggee
until the reign of Akbar, when many of its votaries
were seized and put to death. From that period
until 1810, although known to some of the native
princes, who alternately protected and persecuted
these criminals, it entirely escaped the observation
of the British rulers of India. But attention was
finally attracted to it by the strange disappearance
of sepoys, or native soldiers in the British service,
when moving about the country on furlough. In
1812 a British officer, Lieutenant Monsell, was murdered
by Thugs. A punitive expedition was immediately
sent against the village where the assassins
were known to reside, and the culprits, after some
show of resistance, were ultimately dispersed. No
doubt the fugitives took with them their traditions
and their homicidal principles into new lands where
they were probably unknown hitherto. As early as
1816 the veil of secrecy which had concealed the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span>
organisation was lifted, and a very complete and
accurate account of the ceremonies and practices of
the Thugs in southern India was published by Dr.
Sherwood in the <i>Literary Journal</i> of Madras. It
is supposed that the horrible story told was deemed
too monstrous for belief, and it is at least certain
that no active measures were undertaken to suppress
and root out the offenders.</p>

<p>At all times many hundreds of predatory castes
existed in India, chiefly among the marauding hill
and forest people, and some of them are still recorded
by name in the census papers. These people
lived openly by plunder, and were organised for
crime, and for determined gang-robbery and murder.
There was no established police in those days
equal to coping with these gangs, and the government
of the East India Company had recourse to
the savage criminal code of the Mohammedan law.
When Warren Hastings was governor-general, he
decreed that every convicted gang-robber should be
publicly executed in full view of his village, and that
all of the villagers should be fined. The miscreants
retaliated by incendiarism on a large scale. One
conflagration in Calcutta in 1780 burned fifteen
thousand houses, and some two thousand souls perished
in the flames. A special civil department was
created to deal with this wholesale crime, the character
of which is described in a state paper dated
1772. “The gang-robbers of Bengal,” it says, “are
not like the robbers in England, individuals driven
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span>
to such desperate courses by want or greed. They
are robbers by profession and even by birth. They
are formed into regular communities, and their
families subsist on the supplies they bring home to
them. These spoils come from great distances, and
peaceful villages three hundred miles up the Ganges
are supported by housebreaking in Calcutta.” Special
laws were passed to deal with the crime of
Dacoity or robbery in gangs to the number of five
or more.</p>

<p>By this time the word “Thuggee” was becoming
known and was applied to the practice of
“strangling dexterously performed by bands of professional
murderers disguised as pilgrims or travelling
mendicants.” These hereditary assassins
prided themselves on their descent and their evil
reputations, which inspired an amount of awe in
their fellow countrymen hardly distinguishable from
respect. “Yes, I am a strangler,” one of them
shamelessly told an English officer. “I and my
fathers before me have followed the business for
twenty generations.”</p>

<p>These Phansigars, or “stranglers,” were thus
designated from the Hindustani word <i>phansi</i>, “a
noose.” In the more northern parts of India these
murderers were called Thugs, from the Hindu word
<i>thagna</i>, “to deceive.” Europeans became aware of
the existence of this class of criminals with the conquest
of Seringapatam in 1799, when about a hundred
were apprehended in the vicinity of Bangalore.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span>
Little attention, however, was attracted to these
depredators for a long time; they carried on their
abominable practices under the protection of different
native rulers and local authorities, with whom
they shared their spoils. But we read that, with
the extension of British rule and the subjection of
the native rulers, active measures were set on foot
to suppress these professional murderers, who found
it necessary to engage ostensibly in agriculture or
some other harmless occupation so as to conceal
their real business. One characteristic of the Phansigars
was that they never committed a robbery unaccompanied
by murder, their practice being first to
strangle, then to rifle their victims. It was also
a principle with them to allow no one of a party,
however numerous, to escape, so that there might
be no witnesses of their proceedings; the only exceptions
to this were in the case of boys of very
tender age, whom they spared and adopted in order
to bring them up as Phansigars, and girls whom
they sometimes married. A gang of Phansigars
consisted of any number from ten to fifty men, or
even more, a large majority of whom were Mussulmans,
but Hindus were often associated with them,
and occasionally Brahmins.</p>

<p>In common with brigands of all nationalities, the
Thugs generally frequented districts abounding in
hills and fastnesses which afforded a secure retreat
in times of danger. Particular tracts were preferred
where they could murder their victims with the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span>
greatest security. They lurked by the way in the
extensive jungles which offered cover and concealment,
and where the soil was soft and easily turned
up for digging graves. The Thugs cherished pleasant
memories of these happy hunting grounds so
often associated with their successes. To reach the
scene of action they often performed long journeys
and were absent from home for many months at
a time. Their game was almost invariably travellers
whom they encountered on the road, or for
whom they frequently laid in wait outside towns
and villages at the ordinary resting places. Their
method was to send scouts into the town to find out
whether persons of property were likely to be setting
out on journeys and with what possessions.
Children were often employed in this way. Each
gang of Thugs was under a <i>jemadar</i>, or chief, who
directed their movements; they very seldom assumed
any disguise, but had the appearance of ordinary
travellers or traders. They generally put an end to
their victims in the same manner, that of strangling,
and it was the custom to assign three of them to perform
this deed. While moving along quietly, one
of the Thugs would suddenly throw a cloth around
the neck of the person doomed to death and retain
hold of one end of it while the other end would be
seized by the second accomplice; this was then
drawn tight, the two Phansigars pressing their victim’s
head forward, and at the same time the third
villain, in readiness behind the traveller, seized his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span>
legs, and he was thrown to the ground and despatched.
Meanwhile, other members of the gang
kept watch in advance and in the rear to prevent
interference; if they were disturbed during their
operation, a cloth was thrown over the victim, and
the company pretended that one of their comrades
had fallen sick by the roadside, and made great
lamentations. The bodies of the victims were carefully
buried so as to escape observation and leave no
clue for detection.</p>

<p>In the early part of the nineteenth century the
audacity and murderous activity of the Thugs increased
to such a fearful extent that the British
government was roused to serious consideration.
It could not remain indifferent to an evil of such
magnitude. Startling cases began to crop up and
disturb the equanimity of the official mind. One
of the first revelations was secured in 1814 by an
officer, Lieutenant Brown, when appointed to investigate
the circumstances of a murder in the northern
part of the province of Central India, at no great
distance from Jubbulpore, a city closely connected
with Thuggee from the subsequent trial and incarceration
of a large number of the ringleaders in the
Jubbulpore gaol. Mr. Brown, when engaged in his
inquiry at a village named Sujuna, on the road to
Hatta, heard a horrible story of a gang-robbery in
the neighbourhood. A party of two hundred Thugs
had encamped in a grove in the early morning of
the cold season of 1814, when seven men, well-armed
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span>
with swords and matchlocks, passed, conveying
treasure from a bank in Jubbulpore to its
correspondent in Banda. The treasure was ascertained
to be of the value of 4,500 rupees, and a
number of Thugs, well-mounted, gave chase. Coming
up with their prey at a distance of seven miles,
in a water course half a mile from Sujuna, they attacked
the treasure-bearers with their swords, contrary
to their common practice of strangling their
victims, the latter plan being possible only when the
objects of their desire were taken unawares. Moreover,
the robbers left the bodies where they lay, unburied
and exposed, which was also an unusual proceeding.
A passing traveller, who had seen the
murderers at work, was also put to death to prevent
his giving the alarm. As much rain fell that day,
none of the villagers approached the spot till the
following morning, when the bodies were discovered
and a large crowd came to gaze at them. Great
difficulty was experienced in bringing home the
crime to its perpetrators. This often happened in
such cases from the strong reluctance of people to
give evidence and appear in court for the purpose;
even the banker who had lost his cash hesitated to
come forward and prove his loss, and this was no
isolated case. Once before, the wood at Sujuna had
been the rendezvous of robbers, who had slaughtered
a party of treasure-bearers travelling between
Jubbulpore and Saugor. Sixteen were strangled,
but the seventeenth escaped with his life and running
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span>
into the town, gave the alarm. The native
rajah, at that time supreme, hurried to the spot, but
only came upon the bodies abandoned by the thieves,
who had made off with the treasure.</p>

<p>These depredations were greatly facilitated by
the prevailing practice of transmitting large
amounts of cash and valuables from place to place
by hand. Remittances were made in gold and silver
to save the rate of exchange, although an admirable
system of transfer by bank bills was almost universal
in India. Money carriers by profession were
to be met with in all parts of India, who were
trusted by merchants to convey to distant parts
enormous sums in cash and large parcels of jewels;
their fidelity, sagacity and poverty-stricken appearance,
natural or assumed, were relied upon as a sufficient
security, and it was attested by Sleeman that
although he had to investigate hundreds of cases in
which they had been murdered in the discharge of
their duty, he had never heard of one who betrayed
his trust. The sums secured by the Thugs, after
murdering these faithful but unfortunate servants,
were immense, and amounted in the few years between
1826 and 1830 to hundreds of thousands of
rupees. They could not escape their fate, being constantly
watched and spied upon, and were often
brought to light by customs officers in the native
states, from whom the lynx-eyed, keen-witted Thug
spies gained much information to assist in their
robberies.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span></p>

<p>The discovery of this extensive organisation for
murder was greatly aided by the fearful disclosures
made by some of the captured leaders. The most
noted of these informers was a certain Feringhea,
who is supposed to have been the original of the
character of Ameer Ali, the principal person and
narrator in Colonel Meadows-Taylor’s “Confessions
of a Thug.” He had fallen into the hands of
the famous Captain Sleeman, then the political agent
of the provinces bordering on the Nurbudda, by
whose untiring energy the whole system of Thuggee
as then practised was laid bare. Through his
efforts large gangs were apprehended which had
assembled in Rajputana to pursue their operations
in that country, and among the great numbers committed
to safe custody in the various gaols, especially
that of Jubbulpore, precise information was obtained
leading to the breaking up of the diabolical
conspiracy. It was then found that Thuggee was
actively practised throughout India. The circle,
which seemed at first centred about Jubbulpore,
gradually widened until it included the whole continent,
from the foot of the Himalayas to the waters
that wash Cape Comorin. From the Gulf of Cutch
to the tea plantations of Assam, every province was
implicated, and the revelations of the informers were
substantiated by the disinterment of the dead.</p>

<p>Sir William Sleeman has left a personal record
of his own achievements. “While I was in the civil
charge of the district of Nursingpoor, in the valley
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span>
of the Nurbudda, in the years 1822, 1823 and 1824,”
he tells us, “no ordinary robbery or theft could be
committed without my becoming acquainted with
it; nor was there a robber or a thief of the ordinary
kind in the district, with whose character I had not
become acquainted in the discharge of my duty as
magistrate; and if any man had then told me that
a gang of assassins by profession resided in the village
of Kundelee, not four hundred yards from my
court, and that the extensive groves of the village
of Mundesur, only one stage from me, on the road
to Saugor and Bhopaul, were one of the greatest
<i>beles</i>, or places of murder, in all India; and that
large gangs from Hindustan and the Dukhun used
to rendezvous in these groves, remain in them for
days together every year, and carry on their dreadful
trade along all the lines of road that pass by and
branch off from them, with the knowledge and connivance
of the two landholders by whose ancestors
these groves had been planted, I should have thought
him a fool or a madman; and yet nothing could
have been more true. The bodies of a hundred
travellers lie buried in and around the groves of
Mundesur; and a gang of assassins lived in and
about the village of Kundelee while I was magistrate
of the district, and extended their depredations
to the cities of Poona and Hyderabad.”</p>

<p>Similar to the preceding account, as showing the
daring character of the Thuggee operations, was the
fact that in the cantonment of Hingolee, the leader
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span>
of the Thugs of that district, Hurree Singh, was a
respectable merchant of the place, with whom Captain
Sleeman, in common with many other English
officers, had constant dealings. On one occasion
this man applied to the officer in civil charge of the
district, Captain Reynolds, for a pass to bring some
cloths from Bombay, which he knew were on their
way accompanied by their owner, a merchant of a
town not far from Hingolee. He murdered this
person, his attendants and cattle-drivers, brought
the merchandise up to Hingolee under the pass he
had obtained and sold it openly in the cantonment;
nor would this ever have been discovered had he not
confessed it after his apprehension, and gloried in
it as a good joke. Many persons were murdered in
the very bazaar of the cantonment, within one hundred
yards from the main guard, by Hurree Singh
and his gang, and were buried hardly five hundred
yards from the line of sentries. Captain Sleeman
was himself present at the opening of several of
these unblessed graves (each containing several
bodies), which were pointed out by the “approvers,”
one by one, in the coolest possible manner, to
those who were assembled, until the spectators were
sickened and gave up further search in disgust. The
place was the dry channel of a small water course,
communicating with the river, no broader or deeper
than a ditch; it was near the road to a neighbouring
village, and one of the main outlets from the cantonment
to the country.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span></p>

<p>Some of the operations in which Thugs were concerned,
and the nature of their proceedings, are of
especial interest. In the year 1827, Girdharee Thug
joined a gang of seven Thugs under Bukshee Jemadar
... and set forth on an expedition. The party
proceeded to Cawnpore where they were joined by
Runnooa Moonshee with nine Thug followers, so
that the gang amounted to eighteen Thugs, who all
went on to Pokraya. At this place they fell in with
two travellers going from Saugor to the Oude territory,
who were decoyed by Runnooa Moonshee,
and the next morning, having been escorted about
a couple of miles towards Cawnpore, they were
strangled by two Thugs, Oomeid and Davee Deen,
who buried the bodies in the bed of a stream. After
this the gang proceeded on the road leading to
Mynpooree, as far as Bewur, where they found a
Kayet on his way from Meerut to the eastward,
who was decoyed into joining the company of the
Thugs. After passing the night together, the traveller
was taken to a garden a short distance from the
village, where he was induced to sit down and was
then strangled, his body being thrown into a well.
They went on to Sultanpoor and Mynpooree, where
the number of the gang was increased to twenty-one
by three more Thugs who joined them. The gang
advanced on the same road as far as Kurkoodda in
the Meerut district, but meeting with no success in
their search for victims, they turned back toward
Malagurh, and on arriving there sent one of the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span>
gang as a scout into the town. He discovered two
travellers, a Brahmin and a Kuhar, who were proceeding
from Kurnal to the Oude territory, and
whom he persuaded to join the Thugs. Early the
following morning the Thugs escorted these travellers
about two miles beyond the village, where they
were strangled and their bodies buried. After this
affair the gang passed through Boolund Shuhur and
stopped to rest at a police station two miles from the
town. A Chuprassee from Meerut passed by on his
way to Cawnpore. The Thugs addressed him and
persuaded him to join their band, and they all went
to Koorja, where they rested for the night in a
caravansary. Long before daylight the gang, accompanied
by the traveller, proceeded on the road
to Muttra, and on the way one of the company
found an opportunity to strangle the Chuprassee.</p>

<p>The band next went to Secundra and while halting
there decoyed two Brahmins travelling from
Kurnaul toward Lucknow. Runnooa Moonshee
took them under his own protection, and the next
morning they were escorted in an easterly direction
and strangled. The bodies were thrown into a dry
well and the earth heaped over them. After this
murder, the gang went to Jullalabad, where they
rested in the caravansary; and finding that two
travellers, a Brahmin and a Rajpoot, had previously
put up in the same place, a Thug was deputed to
decoy them by inviting them to join the band; the
travellers agreed, and were put to death in the usual
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span>
manner and their bodies buried. In this way the expedition
proceeded for some weeks, the gang was
joined by other Thugs until it amounted to sixty in
number; then it separated into two parties, each
going in a different direction, but they joined forces
again at Allahabad and commenced operations in
the Cawnpore district. Twenty-seven of the Thugs
quitted the gang and returned to their homes; the
remainder went to Meetapore, where they met two
travellers on their way to Agra, whom they decoyed
into their company. Two more travellers
were also persuaded to join the gang, and besides
these four others were also inveigled, among them
two rich persons who were staying in the same inn;
the last named had engaged a carriage in which to
continue their journey, but the Thugs, anxious to
get into friendly relations, offered horses on more
favourable terms. The proprietors of the carriage,
enraged at this proposition, threatened to have the
Thugs arrested, but the matter was arranged amicably
and the travelling party, with their Thug attendants,
proceeded on their way. Their fate was
sealed, for on reaching a convenient spot in the
Mynpooree district they were strangled and their
bodies rifled. The alarm, however, was given soon
afterward, and all the robbers were taken up by
order of the British magistrate and lodged in gaol.
It was found that in the course of this one expedition
the Thugs had murdered fifty-two victims and
gained spoil to the value of 5,000 rupees.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span></p>

<p>The Thugs did not confine their operations to attacking
travellers on land. There were many gangs
who worked on the rivers and kept their boats on
the Nurbudda and Ganges, into which they decoyed
passengers when bent upon their destruction. They
resided chiefly in villages along the banks and kept
their boats at the principal ghats or points of passage,
as at Monghyr, Patna, Cawnpore and as far
up the river as Furuckabad. Their murders were
always perpetrated in the day time. A certain
number of them were employed as actual boatmen,
wearing the dress and doing the work; others acted
as decoys, having no connection seemingly, but arriving
at the banks as well-dressed travellers, merchants
or pilgrims bound for or returning from the
sacred places such as Benares or Allahabad. In the
meantime the <i>sothas</i> or “inveiglers” sent out by
the gang to bring in passengers, being well dressed
and respectable, would accost those they met upon
the road and invite them to join in the voyage by
river. The boats in waiting at the ghat were invariably
kept clean and looked inviting, with other
respectably dressed travellers awaiting the moment
of departure. Often enough it was at first pretended
to be inconvenient to take the newcomers on
board, the captain alleging that he was short of
room, but at last he would yield to the urgent request
of the <i>sothas</i>, and the trusting passengers
would be taken on board and accommodated below.
After departure the disguised Thugs on deck would
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span>
commence to sing and amuse themselves noisily
until a quiet spot was reached, when the signal was
given&mdash;the death-warrant in this case&mdash;by three
taps upon the deck above. The victims below were
forthwith strangled by the appointed stranglers, who
were in close attendance upon their prey. After
death had been inflicted the murderers proceeded to
break the spinal bones of their victims by placing
a knee in the back and pulling over the head and
shoulders; this was to prevent all possibility of recovery.
Then the bodies were stabbed through under
the armpits and thrown overboard, while the
boat made its way to the next ghat, where the “inveiglers”
were landed to repeat their operations
with others. No part of the booty was retained, lest
it might form a clue to detection, except the cash
found upon the dead or in their baggage. These
river Thugs often ran the risk of being captured,
but they were generally well known to the village
watchmen on the river side, whom they were ready
to bribe.</p>

<p>Their extraordinary audacity and the success
with which they murdered their victims is recorded
in the memorandum prepared in March, 1836, by
an officer, Captain Lowis, who did much to bring
them to justice. He speaks of repeated instances in
which ten or a dozen persons were put to death by
boats’ crews, hardly more numerous than their victims.
In one case seven men were murdered at one
and the same time by a crew of nine Thugs. The
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span>
victims were often men from the west country,
notoriously stronger and braver than the natives of
Bengal. Strange to say, the deadly business was
often completed in small boats, in which there
seemed too little room to move or plan the fell purpose
unperceived. Frequently the Thug boatmen
made friends with their victims, as in the case of
a boat laden with tobacco and hemp, when the captain
and crew persuaded their passengers to land
on a sand bank to cook and eat their dinner together.
After the meal, the Thug leader invited his
friends to join in a song of praise to the Hindu
divinity, and while it was being sung the Thugs
adroitly got behind their victims and strangled
them.</p>

<p>A shocking story was revealed in the trial of
three Bengalis who were arraigned at Berhampore
on suspicion of having committed Thuggee. It appeared
that one of them, Madhub by name, had arrived
at the Serai with a large sum of money in the
hollow of a joint of bamboo; two others, Gunga
Hurree Mitter and Kunhaye, quickly came upon the
scene in pursuit of the first whom they accused of
having stolen the money from their boat. Madhub
retorted that they were Thugs and wanted to murder
him. This squabble excited suspicion and ended
in the arrest of all three. Within a few days two
Bengali boats, full of suspicious characters and
laden with much money and property, were seized
between Monghyr and Patna and news came that
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span>
four travelling merchants had recently disappeared.
It was strongly suspected that these merchants had
been murdered and great efforts were made to obtain
a clue to the guilty parties. Gunga Hurree
Mitter, above mentioned, seemed willing to turn
approver, and although stoutly denying that he was
concerned in this particular crime he at length confessed
to complicity in many frightful murders as
a river Thug and admitted as many as fifty murders
between Moorshedabad and Barr, where the
boats had been seized. About this time another
very notorious Thug was arrested in the Burdwan
district who volunteered valuable information in exchange
for his life and confessed to being an accomplice
in the murder of the merchants.</p>

<p>Accounts of such affairs, as found in contemporary
records, might be multiplied indefinitely.
Colonel Sleeman’s report of the Thug depredations
for a year or two when they were most virulent&mdash;1836-37&mdash;fills
one large volume. On a map which
he made of a portion of the kingdom of Oude, showing
a territory one hundred miles wide from north
to south, and one hundred and seventy miles from
east to west, are marked an endless number of spots
between Lucknow, Cawnpore, Manickpur, Pertabgurh
and Fyzabad, all of them indicating <i>beles</i> or
scenes of murders perpetrated. These places were
pointed out by captured Thugs and “approvers”
who had been actively present and taken part in the
murders. There were some 274 <i>beles</i> in all, or one
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span>
for about every five miles; the fact was proved by
the continual disinterment of skulls and skeletons of
the often nameless victims. Each recorded great
atrocities and many wholesale murders. The number
of deaths for which each Thug miscreant was
personally responsible seems incredible. One man,
Buhran by name, killed 931 victims in forty years
of active Thuggee, and another, Futteh Khan, killed
508 persons in twenty years, making an average of
two monthly for each assassin.</p>

<p>When the British government was roused to the
determination to suppress Thuggee, nearly every
village was tainted with the system and no district
was without its resident gangs of Thugs, or free
from their depredations. The campaign once undertaken
was prosecuted with extraordinary vigour,
and the pursuit organised was so keen that very
rapid progress was made in putting down this terrible
scourge. Whole gangs were arrested, one after
the other; the ringleaders were quickly tried and
executed, or bought their lives at the price of informing
against and contributing to the capture of
their fellows. Difficulties often arose in securing
conviction. Fear kept witnesses from testifying;
bankers were reluctant to acknowledge their losses;
relations were loth to identify corpses; and the revelations
made by the approvers could not always be
corroborated. But the work of extermination never
slackened, and a few short years sufficed to put down
the seemingly hydra-headed evil. It is possible that
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span>
some more distant and inaccessible regions escaped,
such as the Concan or Malabar coast, to which the
gangs never penetrated; and gangs were not permanently
located in such districts as Khandeish and
Rohilcund; but they were visited by robbers from
other neighbourhoods, for a gang generally avoided
a district occupied by their own families and friends.
And the tide of murder swept unsparingly year after
year over the whole face of India from the Himalayan
mountains in the north, to the east, west and
south as far as the most remote limits of Madras.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br />

<span class="medium">CEREMONIES OF THUGGEE</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Murder a religious rite&mdash;Consulting the omens&mdash;The sacred
pickaxe or “kussee”&mdash;The “goor” or consecrated sugar&mdash;Certain
castes under the protection of the goddess
Bhowanee spared&mdash;Women seldom killed&mdash;Belief of
Thugs that the neglect of omens and murder of women
were the causes of arrest and downfall&mdash;The apprenticeship
of a young member to the practices of Thuggee.</p>

<p>When and how Thuggee began may not be definitely
known, but it is certain that its votaries
always attributed a divine origin to the practice.
They esteemed the wholesale taking of life to which
they were vowed a pious act, performed under the
immediate orders and protection of the Hindu goddess,
indifferently called Devee or Durga, Kali or
Bhowanee. Murder was in fact a religious rite, the
victim being a sacrifice to the deity. The strangler
was troubled with no remorse; on the contrary, he
gloried in his deed as the pious act of a devout worshipper.
He prepared his murders without misgiving,
perpetrated them without emotions of pity, and
looked back upon them with satisfaction, not regret.</p>

<p>The Thugs gave free vent to some of the worst
passions of perverse humanity; they were treacherous,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span>
underhanded, pitiless to those they deemed their
legitimate prey. But yet they were seldom guilty
of wanton cruelty; the pain they inflicted was only
that caused by depriving a human being of life. It
was a rule with them never to murder women, and
they generally spared infant children whom they
adopted, bringing them up in their traditions. Even
if a woman was doomed to suffer she was most
scrupulously preserved from insult beforehand,
either by act or word. In private life they were patterns
of domestic virtue, affectionate to their own
families, fond of their homes; well conducted, law
abiding subjects of the state that gave them shelter.</p>

<p>For two centuries at least Thuggee flourished
with rank luxuriance in India, a soil exactly suited
to its growth, fostered by the bigoted adherence to
its tenets and a firm faith in the rewards vouchsafed
to close observance of its rites and ceremonies. The
Thugs were noted formalists in the performance of
their dread business. When they went out to kill,
they were governed by the strictest rules of procedure,
and steadfastly believed that the breach of
any, even the smallest, would entail discomfiture and
misfortune. They gave the most unlimited credence
to superstitions, followed omens blindly and implicitly,
and undertook nothing without consulting
their pundits, or wise men versed in precedent and
traditionary lore. No Thug, Sleeman tells us, who
had been fully initiated in the mysteries, doubted
the inspiration of the pickaxe (the sacred emblem in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span>
the faith of Thuggee), when consecrated in due
form, or doubted that the omens sought and observed
were all-sufficient to guide them to their prey
or warn them from their danger. They were satisfied
that only by the neglect of these and the careless
worship rendered to the goddess could the suppression
of Thuggee have become possible to the
British government.</p>

<p>The most portentous omen was that invited from
the deity on the eve of a new expedition for gang-robbery.
When about to be undertaken, a chief
pundit was asked to name a day for departure and
the road to take. On the day suggested the <i>jemadar</i>,
or leader of the party, would start out holding
in his right hand the <i>lota</i>, a brass pot filled with
water suspended by a string from his mouth; in his
left hand he carried the sacred pickaxe and a clean
white handkerchief in which were several coins. He
proceeded a short distance along the road named by
the pundit and then paused to pray to the “great
goddess and universal mother” to vouchsafe some
signal that the proposed expedition met with her
approval. The best possible omen was the braying
of an ass and if it was heard on the left, followed
by a second bray on the right, it was believed that
the expedition would be an entire and lasting success
even if continued for years. The first, on the
left, is called the <i>pilhaoo</i>; the second, on the right,
the <i>thibaoo</i>. The terms are applied to the voices of
any animals, but by far the most effective is deemed
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span>
the braying of the ass, whose voice is equal to any
hundred birds and superior to that of any other
animal.</p>

<p>The initial ceremony, after the omen, proceeded
by the leader’s seating himself on the ground with
the <i>lota</i> before him. He remained thus seated for
seven hours while his followers brought him food
and made the necessary preparations for the journey.
If the <i>lota</i> should have fallen from his hand
terrible disaster might be anticipated and the <i>jemadar</i>
would inevitably die during the year. If any
one was heard weeping as they left the village, great
evil impended; the same threatened if they met a
corpse being carried out, or if they met an oil vendor,
a carpenter, a potter, a dancing master, a blind or
lame man, a <i>fakir</i> with a brown waist band or a
<i>jogi</i> with long ragged hair. A corpse from any
village but their own was a good omen. The call
of a jackal, of which there were three kinds, threatened
great evil, and if at work the gang instantly
quit the country leaving any victims marked down
for slaughter untouched. The call of the lizard was
a good omen, that of a wolf or a hare crossing the
path, bad, entailing an immediate halt and change
of route. If a dog was seen to shake his head operations
had to be suspended for three days.</p>

<p>In all Thug ceremonies the sacred pickaxe or
<i>kussee</i> played a great part. It was treated with the
utmost respect and was so holy that to be sworn
upon it meant an oath more binding than on Ganges
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span>
water, and perjury on the pickaxe would entail the
death of the foresworn within six days. The superstition
was that the perjurer would die horribly,
with his head turned round, his face toward his
back, and writhing in tortures till the end came.
The oath on the pickaxe was in use when the Thugs
filled the gaols and it was made upon a piece of cloth
fashioned in the shape of the <i>kussee</i>. A legend existed
that the <i>kussee</i> was the gift of the goddess
herself when she had been greatly incensed by the
contravention of one of her laws. At first the
Thugs did not trouble about the corpses of their
victims but blindly left them for Kali’s disposal.
One day a slave looked back and saw her throwing
them in the air, and in her rage the goddess condemned
her votaries to bury their bodies themselves,
digging the graves with the consecrated pickaxe.
It was to be made by some blacksmith in the presence
of the <i>jemadar</i>. The consecration follows a
long ceremony, including many washings in water,
sour milk and ardent spirits, and the pickaxe is first
used to smash a cocoanut, the kernel of which is
eaten by the assembled worshippers. The pickaxe
was entrusted to the safe keeping of the <i>jemadar</i>.</p>

<p>When on the road it was carried by the most
sober and careful man of the party. In camp he
buried it in a secure place with its point toward the
intended route, but they believed that when unearthed,
if another direction was better, the point
would be found supernaturally changed. It was at
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span>
one time the rule to throw the pickaxe down a well
at the nightly halt, and many witnesses declared that
it used to spring up spontaneously from the water
in the morning to come into the hand of its carrier
at his call. Several of the Thug prisoners in Jubbulpore
gaol assured Sir William Sleeman that this was
absolute fact, and went so far as to declare they had
seen it happen. The <i>kussee</i> was religiously worshipped
every seventh day.</p>

<p>Another important agent in the Thug religion was
the <i>goor</i> or consecrated sugar. It was an offering
to Bhowanee, made as a sacrifice of <i>tupounee</i>, to
celebrate the commission of any murder. An exact
amount of coarse sugar was purchased to the worth
of 1 rupee, 4 annas. A clean place was selected and
the sugar laid out on a sheet or blanket, on which
were also put the sacred pickaxe and a piece of
silver coin. The leader of the gang having taken
his seat on the blanket, surrounded by the most
notable stranglers, with the rest outside, made a
small hole in the ground for the <i>goor</i> and then
dedicated it saying, “Great goddess, who vouchsafed
1 lac and 62,000 rupees to Toora Naig and
Koduk Bunwaree in their need, so we pray thee
fulfil our desires.” (Toorah Naig was a celebrated
<i>jemadar</i> who, single-handed, with his servant,
Koduk Bunwaree, killed a man possessed of plunder,
and bringing it home, divided it honestly among
their assembled comrades as though they had all
been present at the murder.) The Thugs fervently
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span>
repeated the prayer and the <i>goor</i> was distributed,
first to those on the blanket, who ate in solemn
silence, and when they had finished, it was given
to the rest who were entitled by their rank to receive
it. No one but a man who had strangled his victim
was suffered to partake of the <i>goor</i>, which had a
miraculous effect; and the Thugs were persuaded
that if any human being tasted it he would take
forthwith to the trade. The Thug chief Feringhea
told Sir William Sleeman that the <i>goor</i> completely
changed a man’s nature, adding,&mdash;“It would
change the nature of a horse. Let anyone taste it
and he will be a Thug, though he know all the trades
and have all the wealth in the world. For my own
part I was well to do; my relations were rich and
I held high office myself in which I was sure of
promotion. Yet I was always miserable when absent
from my gang. While I was still a mere boy,
my father made me taste that fatal sugar, and if
I were to live a thousand years I should never be
able to follow any other trade.”</p>

<p>There was a hierarchy in the caste of Thuggee.
The first grade was the <i>kuboola</i>, or “tyro,” who
after initiation was first employed as scout, then as
grave-digger, <i>lughae</i>; next in rank was the <i>shumseea</i>,
whose duty it was to hold the hands and feet
of the victim when being strangled by the <i>bhurtote</i>,
who is of the highest grade in the organisation.
The initiation was made early; a Thug parent apprenticed
his son at thirteen or fourteen years. The
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span>
candidate having bathed and dressed in new clothes,
which had never been bleached, was led by his <i>guru</i>,
or spiritual director, into a room where the leaders
of the band were assembled seated on a white cloth;
the sacred pickaxe was placed in his right hand,
and raising his left on high, he repeated a fearful
oath dictated to him and sworn on the Koran, after
which he ate a small piece of the consecrated <i>goor</i>.
He pledged himself to be faithful, brave and secret,
to pursue to destruction every human being whom
chance or his own ingenuity threw into his power.
Only he was forbidden to kill the members of certain
castes, such as sweepers, oil-vendors, blacksmiths,
carpenters, professional musicians, any
maimed or leprous persons, the carriers of Ganges
water or any man travelling accompanied by a cow.
As a general rule women were spared, and many
cases are quoted of the misfortunes that overtook
those who disregarded this regulation. Feringhea
stated that his gang after killing many women had
no luck, and his family fell into great misfortune.
Sometimes when they encountered a rich old
woman, she was sacrificed, and even youth and
beauty did not always escape; but the consequences
were always the same. After the murder of the
woman Kalee Bebee, who was travelling with a
gold <i>chudur</i> for a sacred tomb, the perpetrators
were severely punished by fate. One got worms
in his body and died barking like a dog; others died
miserably in gaol or after crossing the black water
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span>
(transportation to Penang). The families concerned
became extinct. Thugs who had slain
women admitted that they deserved the worst evils
that could befall them.</p>

<p>The crime of killing women was sometimes aggravated
by the murder of their children. In the
case of the murder of Bunda Alee, Moonshee of
General Doveton commanding at Jhalna, his wife
and daughters were strangled. One of the Thugs
would have adopted the infant child and was carrying
it off, when a comrade pressed him to kill it
also lest they should be detected on crossing the
Nurbudda. Whereupon the miscreant threw the
living child on the heap of dead bodies in the open
grave, and the child was buried alive.</p>

<p>The apprenticeship to murder was gradual. The
young members saw and heard nothing of the first
affair after their initiation; they were ignorant of
the exact business, but grew to like the life as they
were mounted on ponies and received presents purchased
out of their share of the booty. On the second
expedition they began to suspect that murder
was committed, and on the third they witnessed the
actual deed. They accepted the horrible situation,
and were seldom much shocked. But in one case
told by Feringhea, a lad of fourteen, out for the first
time and mounted on a pony, was committed to the
charge of a young comrade, who was to keep him
in the rear out of sight and hearing of the affair
when the signal was given. Unfortunately, the boy
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span>
broke away and galloped up in time to witness the
scene; he heard the screams and saw them all
strangled. He fell off his pony and became delirious,
screaming and trembling violently if anyone
touched him or spoke to him. They sat by him
when the gang went on and vainly attempted to
pacify him, but he never recovered his senses and
died the same night. A somewhat similar case is
told by Sleeman of an affair near Shikarpore, where
the place selected for the murder was in an extensive
jungle by the river side, and a party of travellers
were strangled, all but two young boys who were
to be saved for adoption. One of them, when the
bodies were being thrown into a ditch covered with
earth and bushes, began to scream violently, and the
Thug who had intended to adopt him, finding it impossible
to pacify him, seized him by the legs and
dashed his brains out against a stone. The dead
boy was left where he lay and his body was found
by a fisherman, who gave the alarm which led to
the pursuit and arrest of the Thugs.</p>

<p>Colonel Meadows-Taylor in his “Confessions of
a Thug” graphically pictures the sufferings of his
hero after the first affair he witnessed. “Do what
I would,” the Thug confesses, “the murdered
father and son appeared before me; the old man’s
voice rung in my ears, and the son’s large eyes
seemed to be fixed on mine. I felt as though a
thousand <i>skitans</i> (devils) sat on my breast, and
sleep would not come to my eyes. It appeared so
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span>
cold-blooded, so unprovoked a deed, that I could not
reconcile myself in any way to having become even a
silent spectator of it.” Next day his father reasoned
with him, making him eat the <i>goor</i>, and explaining
that having put his hand to the work he must not
turn back. As soon as the <i>kuboola</i> has got over the
first feelings of disgust and his courage is equal to
the blood-thirsty business, he becomes the disciple
of some renowned and experienced member of the
gang, and instruction is given in strangling. He is
entrusted with the handkerchief, <i>roomal</i>, and taught
how to make the knot with a piece of silver inserted.
When he has fully learned the process, one
of the travellers at the next affair is entrusted to
him, and with a <i>shumseea</i> at hand to assist, he
regularly graduates as a <i>bhurtote</i> and is eligible to
become a leader of a gang of his own.</p>

<p>The stern resolve of the British government to
suppress Thuggee, and the energetic assistance of
the agents employed were no doubt the true cause
of its being stamped out. The neglect of omens, the
signs sent by Bhowanee to warn her votaries of
threatened dangers, and the murder of women and
persons of the protected castes, brought down upon
the Thugs, in their own opinion, their deserved
retribution. One leader of a gang was arrested with
seventeen others because, as they said, he persisted
in his purpose when a screaming hare had crossed
his path. They pleaded that an omen was an order,
and disobedience brought its own punishment. We
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span>
may accept such explanations for what they are
worth, and may assign to a more reasonable cause
the activity in the years between 1826 and 1840,
when no less than 3,689 Thugs were arrested and
tried. Of these a large number were hanged, transported
or imprisoned for life.  A few were acquitted
or died before sentence; a certain number became
approvers or informers, and no doubt a fatal blow
was struck at these horrid crimes which had been
so long fostered and supported by nearly all classes
in the community; landowners, native officers of
the courts, police and village authorities.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br />

<span class="medium">DACOITY</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Commission appointed in 1837 to consider means for the suppression
of Dacoity&mdash;Story of a daring attack upon government&mdash;Disguises
assumed by Dacoits&mdash;The Brinjaras&mdash;The
“Byragee” or religious devotee&mdash;Professional poisoners
and highway robbers&mdash;The datura&mdash;Its action and
employment&mdash;Hereditary descendants of Thugs&mdash;Predatory
tribes of criminal instinct&mdash;Some noted Dacoits&mdash;Female
leaders&mdash;Theft of government treasure in a British
garrison&mdash;A Dacoit’s revenge.</p>

<p>It has been asserted that although Thuggee has
been ostensibly stamped out in India, road murders
are still committed in considerable numbers by the
agency of poison administered to travellers, and that
this is the work of Bhowanee’s votaries carrying on
the old business, still impelled by their horrible religion.
This impression is believed to be erroneous.
There is no evidence that the gang-robbers who undoubtedly
use poison such as opium, arsenic, datura
and other drugs to stupefy or kill their victims, belong
to the fell organisation so long a scourge in
Indian society; or that the worship of Bhowanee,
observed with such murderous rites, still exists in
India. Nevertheless, the administration of poison
by professional robbers, who infested the main
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span>
roads and lurked in the vicinity of large towns, was
largely and for the most part mysteriously practised
until a comparatively recent date, if it is not indeed
still prevalent. It was one of the forms of Dacoity,
a crime akin to Thuggee, but without its religious
pretensions, and ever one of the most serious evils
combated by the British government. This widespread
plague throve and prospered by reason of
the fierceness and audacity of certain classes and the
timidity and submissiveness characteristic of others.
“In Bengal proper,” says Sir Richard Temple, “it
was a crime with an extensive organisation, having
professional ringleaders followed by gangs of enrolled
men.” It was repressed and to a great extent
broken up by the strong administrative machinery
of the British government, but the crime still crops
up in a milder form and is “one of the earliest
symptoms of impending scarcity, political excitement
or any social trouble.”</p>

<p>We may pause to examine some of the earlier
records of Dacoity. A commission to consider its
suppression was instituted in India in the year 1837.
Hitherto but little had been ascertained of the character
or methods employed by this class of criminal.
Although Dacoities were every day committed and
reported by the magistrates, it was thought that
these gangs resided for the most part between the
Ganges and Jumna rivers and in the kingdom of
Oude, but information regarding their habits and
location was vague and uncertain. Everyone talked
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span>
of Budhuk Dacoits and their daring robberies, but
no one knew who or what they were, whence they
came or how their system was organised. In the
course of this inquiry, the magistrate of the Gorruckpore
district, which borders on the kingdom of
Oude, informed the government that the Dacoits
were not inhabitants of any part of the British territories
but organised banditti from Oude, and that
to deal effectively with this crime was altogether
beyond the power of the magistrates of the district
and the local police. He instanced in proof of the
strength and daring of the Dacoits the details of
an attack made upon a party of government treasure-bearers
in 1822. This story was related long
afterward to an English official by one of the Dacoits
concerned in the affair and is given in his own
words as follows:</p>

<p>“About eighteen years ago Lutee Jemadar sent
a messenger to me to say that he should like to join
me in an expedition, and I went to him with Jugdeum
and Toke to settle preliminaries. The first
day was spent in feasting and nothing was settled
about business. On the following day he told me
that remittances of government treasure went every
month from Peprole to Gorruckpore, and if we were
prudent we might get some of it. It had, however,
become known that an escort of troopers and foot-soldiers
always accompanied these remittances and
unless the attack was in the nature of a surprise
some casualties were likely to occur. After exploring
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span>
the ground, it was seen that the way passed
through an extensive jungle, so thick that horsemen
could not safely leave the high road.” A point in
this jungle was selected for the attack and to facilitate
it strong ropes were fastened across the road
ahead, while other ropes were in readiness to block
it behind so soon as treasure and escort had passed
through. A gang of forty was collected for the
robbery, ten matchlock-men, ten swordsmen and
twenty-five spearmen, who proceeded to lie in ambush
awaiting news of the approach of their prey.
On the third morning it was near at hand, the ropes
ahead were fixed and a number of men posted,
armed with matchlocks loaded with shot, as the
Dacoits did not desire to take life. As soon as the
trap was laid and the time of retreat intercepted,
fire was opened from all sides. The escort was
thrown into confusion, the foot soldiers sought
refuge in the bush, the horsemen tried to escape by
jumping over the ropes, while the thieves broke in
upon the treasure and took possession of some
12,000 rupees.</p>

<p>Daring attacks of this kind by gangs drawn from
this great family of professional and hereditary
robbers were frequent in all parts of India. No
district between the Berhampootra, the Nurbudda,
the Sutlej and the Himalayas was free from them,
and no merchant or manufacturer could feel himself
secure for a single night from the depredations
of Budhuk Dacoits. In 1822, in the district of Nursingpoor
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span>
in the Nurbudda valley, in the dusk of
evening, a party of about thirty persons, apparently
armed with nothing but walking sticks in their
hands, passed the picket of Sepahees, who stood with
a native commissioned officer on the bank of a rivulet
separating the cantonments from the town of
Nursingpoor. On being challenged by the sentries,
they said they were cowherds who had been out with
their cattle which were following close behind.
They walked up the street, and having arrived in
front of the houses of the most wealthy merchants,
they set their torches in a blaze by a sudden blow
upon the pots containing combustibles; everybody
who ventured to move or to make the slightest noise
was stabbed; the houses were plundered, and in ten
minutes more the assailants fled with their booty,
leaving about twelve persons dead and wounded on
the ground. A magistrate close at hand despatched
large parties of foot and horse police in all directions,
but no one was seized nor was it discovered whence
the gang had come, or any particulars as to their
identities. This occurred in the month of February,
when marriage processions take place every day in
all large towns; the nights are long, and much
money is circulated in the purchase of cotton in all
cotton districts like that of Nursingpoor. There
was a large police guard within twenty paces of the
Dacoity on one side, and this picket of Sepahees
within a hundred paces on the other. Both saw the
blaze of the torches and heard the noise, but both
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span>
mistook it for a marriage procession, and the first
intimation given of the real character of the party
was by a little boy, who had crept along a ditch unobserved
by the Dacoits, and half dead with fright,
whispered to the officer commanding them that they
were robbers and had killed his father. Before the
officer could get his men ready, all were gone and
nothing more was heard of them until twenty years
later, when the perpetrators of the attack were detected
and brought to justice.</p>

<p>The Dacoits sometimes assumed disguises to hide
the real nature of their business. In 1818 a notorious
leader named Maheran with a gang of fifty
Budhuks, set out from Khyradee in the Oude Terai
under the disguise of bird catchers. They had with
them falcons, hawks of all kinds, well-trained, also
mynas, parrots and other varieties of speaking and
mocking birds. At Bareilly, in Oude, they were
joined by another small gang, and all proceeded in
pursuit of some treasure on its way from Benares
westward, carried by ponies under charge of twenty-four
<i>burkundazes</i>, “native watchmen,” and policemen.
They determined to attack the treasure party
at their halting place between Allahabad and Cawnpore.
A boat had been purchased to keep along the
bank of the river, ready to help the party across
after the attack, and by this the women and children
were all landed on the Oude side of the river opposite
the Serai. Maheran with two or three selected
men in disguise remained with the treasure until
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span>
they saw it safely lodged for the night, when he
returned to his gang to make arrangements for the
attack. Ladders, torches and handles for the spear-heads
and axes had been provided in the usual way,
and two hours after dark they scaled the wall of the
Serai. Meanwhile confederates within broke open
the gate from the inside and stood over it to prevent
interruption, while the rest attacked the escort and
secured the treasure. They killed six persons of
the guards, wounded seventeen and secured 70,000
rupees.</p>

<p>Maheran was captured in a later expedition and
hanged, but his widow Moneea took his place as
leader of the gang and shortly afterward fitted out
another expedition to Junnukpoor in the Nepal territory
several hundred miles to the east of their
bivouac, to intercept some treasure on its way to the
capital, Khatmandu. This expedition consisted of
eighty chosen men and seven women. After taking
the auspices they set out in small parties toward the
appointed place of rendezvous. On the way, one
of the parties, under a leader named Johuree, fell in
with fifteen bullocks laden with treasure under the
charge of eighty Gorkhas. The Dacoits, being in
disguise, managed to join the escort without exciting
suspicion and ascertained that they were carrying
a treasure to the value of 64,000 rupees from
the collector’s treasury in the plain to the capital.
Johuree ordered two of his men to continue with the
escort and went on himself with the rest to join the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span>
other leaders at the appointed place and to consult
with them. He found that only a part of the gang
had arrived and these thought it wiser to postpone
an attack until the rest came up, saying, “If we
succeed in taking the treasure, many of our friends
must be seized on suspicion and beaten into confessions
that may lead to the ruin of all, whereas if we
forbear this time we shall be all collected before
the next monthly remittance goes up, and we may
secure it with little hazard to our friends or to ourselves.”</p>

<p>Johuree urged that one bird in the hand was
worth two in the bush and at length prevailed upon
the others to accept his counsel. They mustered
fifty men and prepared to follow the treasure. The
two scouts continued with the treasure escort in the
disguise of pilgrims, and when they had seen it
safely lodged at a spot under the first range of hills
and had carefully reconnoitred the position, one of
them hastened to Johuree with his report. All now
set out and reached the village of Bughalee in the
evening. From this place Johuree went forward to
reconnoitre and found the treasure lodged in a fortified
place with a wall and ditch all around it. A
party of four or five hundred traders who carried
goods from the plains to the hills were encamped
on the edge of the ditch. After carefully surveying
the position, Johuree returned to his friends and
ordered that a couple of stout ladders twenty feet
long should be made out of wood cut in the forest.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span>
Advancing in silence, they placed these ladders and
got over the ditch and wall close to where the
treasure lay. It was about midnight, with a good
moon and clear sky, but still they thought it necessary
to light their torches, and under the blaze they
commenced the attack. The escort was taken by
surprise and made but a feeble resistance. The
gang took the whole amount of 64,000 rupees and
effected their retreat without losing a man. On
reaching a retired spot two or three miles from the
scene of action, they divided the spoil, but every man
had too much to admit of rapid travelling, so 17,000
rupees were buried at this place, and with the remaining
47,000 rupees the party moved on through
the forest. As soon as news of the loss of the treasure
reached the Nepal cantonments at Jalesar,
whence it had been despatched, every suspicious person
that could be found was seized. Two regiments
then stationed at Jalesar were despatched through
the forest to the westward to intercept the robbers,
and fell in with some of Johuree’s party, from whom
they recovered a portion of the treasure, while
Johuree got safely home with the rest.</p>

<p>The precision with which veterans remembered
and described Dacoities at which they had assisted
during their lives was often wonderful. One of the
leaders of the Oude Terai gangs named Lucke, when
arrested, described forty-nine Dacoities at which he
had been present during his career of twenty-five
years. The local authorities to whom his narratives
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span>
were sent endorsed his account of forty-one as having
been perpetrated precisely as he described them,
though many of them had taken place near Calcutta,
some four or five hundred miles from the bivouac
in Oude forest from which the gang had set out.</p>

<p>Reference has been made to the disguises assumed
by the Dacoits. The most suitable to the
locality in which they were about to work were as
a rule selected. Thus, north of the Jumna they became
carriers of Ganges, or holy water, because
men of that class were continually to be met with
on those roads. South of the Jumna they pretended
to be pilgrims journeying to some sacred
shrine, or relatives sadly conveying the bones of
the departed to the banks of the Ganges, or the
friends of a bridegroom sent to fetch and bring
home his bride. The r&ocirc;le of funeral mourners was
very popular because out of respect for their sorrowful
business they were treated with much deference
and subjected to no inconvenient inquiries as
to whence they came or whither they were going.
The bones they carried were commonly those of inferior
animals, wild or domestic; they were kept in
bags,&mdash;red for male bones, white for female,&mdash;and
at their halting places these bags were suspended
from the apex of a triangle formed by three
stout poles, to be used later as the handles for the
spear-heads concealed in their waistbands. Another
favourite disguise was that of the Brinjaras,
the traditional carriers of grain and salt, who travel
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span>
long distances conveying the grain to the sea coast
and returning with the salt. These Brinjaras were
a peculiar and distinct race, who were much employed
by the Duke of Wellington (when Sir Arthur
Wellesley) as food-carriers in his Indian campaigns.
Their appearance was distinctive and their
costume peculiar; of intelligent countenance and
strongly knit, wiry frames, they dressed&mdash;the
women especially&mdash;in fantastic parti-coloured
clothes; the women’s arms were completely encased
from shoulder to wrist in bracelets of bone or ivory;
they wore coins round their necks and curiously interwoven
in their hair, which gave a strange, flighty,
wild air to their always expressive and sometimes
good-looking faces. The Brinjaras strictly adhered
to certain customs; they did not intermarry,
and lived in no fixed abode, although they halted
often in the same encampment for some time; they
observed the stars and scrupulously followed omens;
they spoke the languages of most of the places they
visited, but had a peculiar dialect of their own.
They had no defined religion.</p>

<p>A good account of the Brinjaras is given by Reginald
Heber, Bishop of Calcutta, in his “Indian
Travels.” “We passed a large encampment of
‘Brinjaras,’” he writes, “or carriers of grain, a
singular wandering race, who pass their whole time
in transporting this article from one part of the
country to another, seldom on their own account,
but as agents for more wealthy dealers. They move
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span>
about in large bodies with their wives, children,
dogs and loaded bullocks. The men are all armed
as a protection against petty thieves. From the
sovereigns and armies of Hindustan they have no
apprehensions. Even contending armies allow them
to pass and repass safely, never taking their goods
without purchase, nor even preventing them, if they
choose, from victualling their enemy’s camp. Both
sides wisely agree to respect and encourage a branch
of industry, the interruption of which might be attended
with fatal consequences to both.”</p>

<p>The Brinjaras’ disguise not only served as a convenient
cloak for the Dacoits, but they sometimes
followed the nefarious business on their own account.
The larger number no doubt were fairly
honest and industrious people, but some succumbed
to the temptation of their roving life and the facilities
offered for criminal acts in their extensive wanderings,
taking to Dacoity and to the kidnapping
of children, a profitable business, especially of female
children for whom there was a ready sale.
General Charles Hervey, the famous Indian police
officer, had but a poor opinion of the Brinjaras,
whom he called formidable robbers. His account
of them is, however, interesting as supplementing
Bishop Heber’s. He came across them in large
numbers at the Sambhur Salt Lake not far from
Jeypore, which they visited from the most distant
regions, with immense droves of pack bullocks,
bringing grain and taking away salt. He says:
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span>
“Their animals may be seen tethered in hundreds
on the wide shores of the extensive lake, each <i>tanda</i>
or company of their sort being camped under a distinct
Naik, or headman, in the centre of the drove
appertaining to it, with their bullock packs or panniers
neatly collected in piles of hundreds in their
midst. In the daytime, when halted, their cattle are
taken out to pasture wherever pasture may be obtained,
tended by the fewest men, often mere lads,
and not infrequently by girls; at evening they are
driven home, when a piece of oil-cake is given to
each animal, called by name, and it is curious to
watch the process, how well each animal knows its
name and waits expectantly for its turn to be called.
At night the bullocks are tethered by means of a
rope passed round their front feet and entwined
with another rope fixed to the ground with strong
stakes. They are picketed in this manner with their
heads turned inwards, in a circle round the resting
place of their owners in their midst, and fires are
kept burning throughout the night to scare away
tigers or other beasts of prey. I have come upon
the encampments of these roving people, in the wildest
jungles, or threading their way with their long
straggling lines of laden cattle through the most
intricate ground, whether of rock, forest, sand-hills,
or marsh, and have been quite fascinated by the
strangeness of their manner and their quaint wild
ways.”</p>

<p>Another successful disguise made use of by the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span>
Dacoits in Central India was that of the garb and
appearance of Alkuramies, a peculiar class of pilgrims
who travelled in small parties accompanying
a high priest, who was represented as the leader of
the gang. “They had four or five tents, some of
white and some of dyed cloth, and two or three
pairs of <i>nakaras</i>, or ‘kettle drums,’ and trumpets,
with a great number of buffaloes, cows, goats, sheep
and ponies. Some were clothed, but the bodies of
the greater part were covered with nothing but
shoes and a small cloth waistband. Those who had
long hair went bareheaded and those who had nothing
but short hair wore a piece of cloth round the
head.” The pretended Alkuramies always took the
precaution of hiring the services of half a dozen
genuine Byragees or ascetics, whom they put forward
in difficult emergencies.</p>

<p>They are strange people, these Byragees, or religious
devotees, whether pretended or real. There are
many classes of them with various names: Jogis,
Sunyasis, Byragis, Aghunhotas, and mostly all incorrigible
rogues. When travelling in bands they
are stalwart naked fellows, strong-limbed and
sturdy, unpleasant to meet abroad despite their
sham sanctity. Their solicitation of alms is more
like a threat as they offer their begging bowls,
peremptorily demanding contributions. They do
not whine or fawn like ordinary beggars, but lift
their voices in execration when their appeals are not
readily met and with their naked slate-coloured
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span>
bodies raised to their full height, they cast dust into
the air to emphasise their maledictions. Whether
by alms or thefts, the mendicant leads an easy, lazy
life, his needs are well cared for by the charitable
who firmly believe they “acquire merit” by ministering
to them.</p>

<p>General Charles Hervey has given a graphic account
of a Byragee he came across at Thunjna on
the edge of Rajputana, whose lair or <i>mhut</i> was on
one of the hills above the town. It was “erected
nearly at the very top of it among several overhanging
rocks, and reached only by a long parapeted
causeway, all substantially constructed of solid
masonry, but not yet completed. The ascetic in possession
was in the usual nude condition, four square
inches of rag forming his entire personal apparel.
His body was covered with ashes, his head folded
round and round with his own braided hair like
a tall tiara, and his face and forehead plastered with
white symbolic daubs. Sleek he was, and in good
condition withal&mdash;not at all a starving mendicant,
whatever his penances; and he had a fat pony too,
in a well-littered shed close by his own comfortable
den, to get up to and scramble into which must
cause the good little beast some trouble. I asked
the man why thus disfigure himself? I was rebuked
for the impertinence by no reply, as, silently beholding
me, he squatted on his upraised hams on the
stone-built terrace of the lofty spot.... He had,
like most of his kind throughout India, wandered to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span>
many distant regions and sacred spots, famed from
olden times as places to be visited, whatever the
difficulties of the pilgrimage.... He had, indeed,
been a mighty traveller and persistent pilgrim, this
nude, besmeared gymnosophist, of small wants and
great energy, and the naked hermit became quite
attractive, rapt as he was, however unclothed and
unbeauteous, as he narrated his ‘painful marchings’
and the wondrous sights he had beheld and
bowed down to.</p>

<p>“Other equally devoted and fanatic individuals,
leading, like this man, eremitical lives in caves and
hovels in wild and unfrequented spots and inaccessible
places on crags or rocky eminences by side of
river or sea, or on temple-topped hill or difficult
mountain peak, held sacred as the abode of their
Devi and not to be profaned, may be met with, ...
but few so observant or so communicative and
friendly.... Many are their devices of evil-doing
when abroad; and here I confine the remark to
those who are not what they seem to be. Thugs,
poisoners and kidnappers are to be found among
Jogis. When visiting Dwarka many years ago, I
was loudly cursed by a Byragee for not readily
enough yielding to his demand for alms, and as I
put off from the shore, to give point to his execrations,
the angered fellow, stark and gray, seemed
a very blue devil, as, standing to his full height and
with both arms stretched upwards, he flung dust
into the air while uttering his direst maledictions.”
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span></p>

<p>Professional poisoning in carrying out highway
robbery was at one time spread over every portion
of the province of Bengal, and there is no doubt it
was equally prevalent in Bombay and Madras.
Murders were constantly committed along the road
upon unwary travellers who rashly joined company
with strangers deliberately purposing to kill and
rob them; and numbers of thefts were also perpetrated
by the administration of drugs to render their
victims insensible and at their mercy.</p>

<p>The crime was greatly aided by the facility with
which poison in some form or other could be obtained.
Many shopkeepers traded in poisons, selling
these goods openly and with the most reckless
indifference. Even when the law laid restrictions
on the sale of poisons, the evilly disposed could provide
himself from the roots of trees in the jungle,
garden or wayside, or they might be bought from
the numerous travelling quacks, and the local <i>hakims</i>
or “native doctors” were often not unwilling
to supply the noxious drugs. Moreover, in almost
every village some hag of evil repute, half-witch,
half-midwife, given to criminal practices and commonly
believed to be a professional poisoner, did a
systematic business in supplying drugs. Upon one
old woman, who was arrested near Sasseram in
1835, were found letters and credentials from numerous
members of the poisoning community at
large who dealt with her.</p>

<p>The drug most commonly used by the road poisoners
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span>
is produced from the datura plant, <i>stramonium</i>,
both the purple flowered and the white flowered,
and is prepared from the seeds or the leaves.
Its noxious effects were well known to the ancients.
In “Purchas: His Pilgrimage,” that most famous
series of seventeenth century travels, we read,
“They have (in India) an Herbe called Durroa
which causeth distraction without understanding
anything done in a man’s presence; sometimes it
maketh a man sleepe as if hee was dead for the
space of four and twenty hours and in much quantity
it killeth.” It is referred to in Burton’s “Anatomy
of Melancholy.” Garcias ab Horto makes
mention of “an herbe called daturah, which if it
be eaten, for twenty-four hours following takes
away all sense of grief, makes them incline to
laughter and mirth.” As an instrument in facilitating
theft and other criminal designs its properties
were widely recognised. In Bengal it was usually
given as an ingredient of sweetmeats, or mixed with
bread or coffee, sherbet, milk, <i>tari</i>, “native spirits,”
or introduced into tobacco. It was relied upon to
stupefy; not necessarily to kill, but to produce intoxication
or delirium, or profound lethargy resembling
coma, with dilated pupils but natural respiration.
Even when life is not seriously endangered,
the effects of the poison upon the person are
such that they seldom recover their bodily vigour.
One was still a cripple after a dose taken seven years
before; another continued unable to articulate and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span>
was like a man stricken with paralysis. Memory is
long impaired and often never recovered; idiocy
sometimes supervenes. The detection of the crime
is thus prevented. If death occurs, it may be attributed
to disease, suicide or wild beasts; if the
patient survives, he has no clear idea what has happened
to him.</p>

<p>The action of datura is generally an indication
that it has been administered. It is not only a powerful
narcotic, but there are quite unmistakably
characteristic symptoms. The patient, if not incapable
of movement, will perform the most fantastic
antics, will exhibit great excitement, ramble
in his talk, fly into a violent rage when questioned.
As it takes effect, the sufferer grows very thirsty,
and dry in the throat. There are three stages or
sets of symptoms observed: First, headache, dryness
of the mucous membrane, difficulty in walking,
languor, impairment of vision, with the pupils
greatly dilated; second, maniacal delirium, flushed
face, eyes glistening, violent perspiration from incessant
motion; third, insensibility, coma and possibly
collapse with fatal results. In the last condition
the sufferer becomes giddy, staggers, falls and
dies.</p>

<p>Some of the cases of poisoning by datura may
be quoted here to show the boldness with which
it was practised. One crime was committed in a
Jain temple near Bhagalpur in Bengal, where the
victims were the priest and two of his attendants.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span>
The latter were found one morning in a state of
mad intoxication, reeling about the ground, and the
priest was missing, but his body was picked up three
days afterward in a dry well. It was the work of
a gang of professional poisoners who had visited
the temple ostensibly to make an offering to the god
but in reality to murder the priest. One of them
bought sweetmeats which were doctored with powdered
datura-seed, and handed them over to the
priest for presentation. According to custom, he
ate some of the sweetmeats, giving a part also to
the two temple attendants. The poisoners waited
till the drug had taken effect and then attacked the
priest who was lying unconscious near the shrine;
one of them throttled him; a second sat heavily
upon his chest; a third held his hands, and a fourth
trampled him underfoot. The helpless victim soon
died in convulsions. The next act was to rifle the
secret treasury kept in an inner chamber, and the
plunder was stowed in sacks and carried away in
a cart. In the end by the aid of “approvers” seven
of the robbers were arrested. Three were sentenced
to death, and the others to transportation for life
to the Andaman Islands.</p>

<p>Numerous victims of the crime of road poisoning
were found among the Powindahs or Afghan traders
who travel down every year from above the
passes on the northwest frontier and who brought
their strings of camels laden with merchandise and
products of the soil, or drove a good business in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span>
horse-dealing. They sold cloth and shawls, condiments,
sun-dried fruits, sweetmeats, valuable furs,
long-haired Persian cats, strong, surefooted little
horses called <i>yaboos</i>. They visited all parts of India
as far as Cape Comorin, and when their goods
were sold, congregated at certain points for the
homeward journey, and with their wallets well-lined,
they were a likely prey for the poisoners. Although
shrewd bargainers, they are an unwary lot
not difficult to dupe and cajole. These “Cabulis,”
as they were styled, were at one time the constant
victims of datura poisoning in Bombay, where they
often collected to enjoy the proceeds of their trading
and purchase goods to carry home. Numbers
of them were admitted to the hospital suffering
from poison, the fatal effects of which they had
escaped, thanks to their robust constitutions.</p>

<p>Once at Patna, in Bengal, a horse-dealer from
Cabul, who had disposed of his stud profitably,
rashly made friends with a couple of rogues whom
he met by the way and who had so ingratiated themselves
with him as to be accepted as travelling companions.
On reaching Benares one of them, who
passed as the other’s servant, went on ahead to a
Serai to prepare food, which was ready on the arrival
of the party and of which the Afghan partook
with the others. All were seized with the usual
symptoms, and while insensible the horse-dealer was
robbed. Again, a party of five, travelling from Calcutta,
were beguiled on the way by an obliging
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span>
stranger whom they presently engaged to go out
and buy food for them in the bazaar and prepare
it for them. They left the Serai with him to continue
their journey by rail, but were found unconscious
on the way to the station, having been robbed
of their money and most of their apparel.</p>

<p>General Hervey quotes a curious instance of the
heredity of the criminal instinct which showed itself
in the descendants of the old Thugs settled at
Jubbulpore, in the days of the active pursuit of
these murderers by Sir William Sleeman. A generation
of young Thugs had grown up around the
School of Industry, a kind of reformatory for the
offspring of the captured criminals, and the careers
of some of these have been followed. Many of the
youths found employment with European gentlemen
as private servants, and in one particular instance
the inherited propensity was curiously illustrated.
A railway engineer, Mr. Upham, employed
in the construction of the Indian Peninsula Railway,
was stationed at Sleemanabad near Jubbulpore.
Returning home one evening, much fatigued after
a long tour of inspection, he lay down to rest on his
bed and from his tent, the curtain of which was
raised for ventilation, he saw two of his table servants&mdash;both
of them lads from the reformatory&mdash;engaged
in cooking his dinner. He presently noticed
that they squeezed into the pot on the fire certain
green pods they had plucked from a neighbouring
bush, and presuming they were herbs of some
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span>
sort added for flavour, he said nothing, but he was
curious and having little appetite he dined very
lightly, chiefly on rice and milk. He picked some
of the pods, however, and put them in his pocket,
where they remained till next day, when he became
ill and rode over to see the doctor. He fainted
when he reached the doctor’s office. Restoratives
being promptly applied, he so far recovered as to be
able to produce the pods which the doctor at once
pronounced to be of datura. Suspicion thus
aroused, the two servants were arrested and brought
to trial, when the head cook was convicted and sentenced
to six years’ imprisonment. This boy was
of the old Thug stock, and obviously the desire to
destroy human life was in his blood, brought out
by greed; for the object was, of course, to rob Mr.
Upham while he was unconscious.</p>

<p>They were apparently irreclaimable, these Thug
children. One boy was detained in prison until
grown up in the hope that he would prove well-conducted.
All his relations had been Thugs; his
father (who had been executed), his uncles, brothers
and forebears for several generations, and numbers
of them had suffered the extreme penalty. He
was cognisant of their misdeeds and the retribution
that overtook them, but his own inclinations lay the
same way, and no sooner was he at large than he
embraced the evil trade and was soon known as a
<i>jemadar</i> with an increasing reputation as a daring
leader of Dacoits. Eventually he was won over to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span>
the side of justice and did good service as an
“approver.”</p>

<p>A noted Thug poisoner of later days was a certain
Rora, the Meerasee&mdash;a class of hereditary
singers&mdash;who was long criminally active and in
the end was sentenced to transportation for nineteen
years on several counts. His favourite victims
were the drivers of bullock hackeries, which
with an accomplice he would hire, and after they
were taken several stages, he would become friendly
with the driver, offering food, drink or tobacco,
which was, of course, drugged and produced the
usual narcotic effects. When the driver fell off his
box insensible, they left him to lie there and made
off with the vehicle and its beasts, disposing of
them at the first chance. This process was repeated
with other carts and conveyances plying for hire,
and in all cases datura was the drug employed.
This Rora was arrested on one occasion, and having
to pass his own house got permission to go in; after
which he came out with a gift of poisoned sweetmeats
for his escort, and easily escaped when his
custodians yielded to the potency of the datura.</p>

<p>A form of highway robbery was the “Megphunnah
Thuggee,”&mdash;the poisoning of parents to remove
them and allow of the kidnapping of their deserted
children. The motive of this crime was to become
possessed of the jewels and ornaments worn by
the children, or to sell the latter at distant places or
to wanderers who would carry them to far-off countries
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span>
for questionable purposes. Brinjaras bought
male children to bring up in their trade, and
nomadic gipsies with travelling shows wanted females
to be reared to their performing business.
Thus a gang of Megphunnah thieves assembled for
a feast fell upon a family of Yats, father and
mother, with two girls and a boy, and having
strangled the parents in good old Thug fashion and
sold the children, repeated the process continually
as they wandered on. The gains were small, but
the murders were many and numbers were sold
into slavery of the worst sort.</p>

<p>Dacoity was practised on a large scale in many
districts by whole gangs under well-known leaders
with adherents or well-wishers and informants in
every village. At each religious festival in the
autumn, the band assembled at the summons of its
acknowledged chief in some deserted fort or temple,
and settled a plan for the coming season, when operations
were discussed; the names of the selected
victims, the nature of the expected booty, the
chances of resistance or the interference of the authorities.
New members were affiliated and sworn
in at these meetings and the work went on gaily by
the various parties till the approach of the monsoon,
when the whole band reassembled, divided the spoil
and went into winter quarters. One member of the
gang was always a goldsmith, who melted down the
ornaments acquired, while silks and clothes were
disposed of to friendly shopkeepers.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span></p>

<p>A long list might be drawn up of the predatory
peoples of India. “These criminal tribes,” says
Sleeman, “number hundreds of thousands of persons
and present a problem almost unknown in
European experience. The gipsies, who are largely
of Indian origin, are perhaps the only European example
of an hereditary criminal tribe. But they are
not sheltered and abetted by the landowners as their
brethren in India are.” Most prominent among
these peoples were the Meenas, or Meena Rhatores,
who were found chiefly in Rajputana, but who practised
their infamous trade in many parts of India.
The name Rhatore is synonymous with Rajput and
signifies “of royal race,” but the blue blood was
drawn from a family living by plunder and Dacoity.
They were settled in considerable numbers at Shajanpore
near Gurgaon, and lived outwardly respectable
lives, but their propensities were well known.
Although they went far afield to carry out their
robberies, they occupied substantial stone houses,
cultivated the soil and possessed large flocks and
herds with many swift camels, mostly hidden away
till the time arrived for an expedition to pilfer and
despoil. These Meenas were rich and prosperous
and wanted nothing but to be let alone; they habitually
lived well, ate flesh, drank much, wore fine raiment,
and their women disported many trinkets and
gorgeous clothes; their rejoicings and festivals
were celebrated with much feasting and revelry.
They followed no ostensible occupation; they hired
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span>
servants to till the ground, and their villages had
often a deserted appearance because most of the
men were absent on some raid. The remaining
few, wary and watchful, looked out for possible detection
and interference; the women, even when
drawing water at the well, were ready to give the
signal of alarm or send a word of warning to their
friends engaged in some illegal pursuit. The
Meenas hung closely together, and if any one was
by mischance arrested, he might count upon assistance
and upon funds raised by subscription to
provide bribes to secure his release, if in the
native states, or for the payment of fees for his
defence.</p>

<p>Another criminal class very formidable in their
time were the Moghyas, whose home was in Meywar
in and about the direction of Neemuch. They
were notorious for the wide range of their depredations,
and being of a treacherous character, they
inspired great dread in the regions they infested.
They did not confine themselves to their own country,
but spread far and wide, and their robberies
were so repeated that at one time the high road
between Indore and Gwalior was patrolled by parties
of irregular cavalry in support of the inefficient
local police. These Moghyas came from a common
stock of tribal thieves, such as the Budhuks and
Khunjurs, and were notable for their favourite custom
of taking service as village watchmen or <i>chowkeydars</i>,
a strange practice very general throughout
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span>
India and based upon the old idea of setting a thief
to catch a thief.</p>

<p>The Budhuks were professional Dacoits who always
murdered their victims; the Khunjurs were
wanderers who robbed in many widely separated
districts both in Madras and Bombay, and in times
far back in Jalna, Bolarum near Secunderabad, at
Bellary (Madras) and Sholapore. The Mooltani
robbers were assiduous in attacks on convoys of
cargoes of piece goods, opium and sugar. There
were also Bedowreahs, freebooters and desperados
of the North-western Provinces, Kaim Khanees,
camel postilions, who were also Dacoits, and Khaikarees
and Lambanees, much given to crime in the
Dharwan district and so determined in their misdeeds
that no severity short of perpetual banishment
had any effect on them. After a large capture, the
native magistrate sentenced every offender to have
his right hand chopped off. Yet they at once resumed
their depredations when set free and were
long recognised as members of the “lop-handed”
gang.</p>

<p>The Ooreahs, or men of Orissa, were poisoners
by descent, adepts at dissimulation and low cunning,
much given to the despoiling of unsuspecting females
of the oldest profession in the world, the
hereditary dancing girls who were brought up to
the business by their mothers. A troupe of these
girls were often maintained privately by rajahs and
wealthy natives, and for ceremonial purposes at
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span>
Hindu temples. Despite the taint of ill-repute attaching
to their trade, they were often modest in
manner and of refined tastes, very much like the
old Grecian “Het&aelig;r&aelig;”; but when living at large
in their public capacity, they were often the victims
of greedy miscreants who coveted their possessions,
their plentiful ornaments and jewelry, for many
were personally rich. The Ooreahs worked in
gangs and three of them visited the house of some
of these women in Dum-Dum and brought with
them a present of food, curry cooked by themselves
and drugged. This had the usual effect and ended
in a great robbery. Again, four Ooreahs took
lodgings with a woman in the Sham Bazaar, near
Calcutta, and established friendly relations, exchanging
sweetmeats. Those given by the Ooreahs
soon produced insensibility, and the poisoners
cleared out the place.</p>

<p>In 1869 information reached a gang of Dacoits
on the look-out for booty that a large consignment
of treasure had been received at Agra by railway
from Calcutta. It was to be transferred at Agra to
camel-back, to be forwarded to its destination at
Jeypore. The leader of the Dacoits and many
others were lurking around drawn by the scent of
rich prey on the skirts of the great Durbar then in
progress. They prudently resolved to delay attack
until the spoil was upon native territory, and it was
watched from stage to stage until the convoy had
entered a pass or hilly gorge one march from Jeypore.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span>
The party halted for the night to bivouac
in the bazaar of a place called Molumpoona, where
they were challenged by pretended revenue officers,
who were Meena Dacoits disguised, and accused of
trying to evade the transit dues. The real character
of the officials was soon made manifest when the
escort, who were soldiers or policemen, ran off, and
the plunder was secured. It consisted of a large
amount in rupees and silver in bricks, coral beads
and other valuables.</p>

<p>The audacity of these Dacoits reached to greater
heights. The royal mails were not safe from their
interference. By maintaining spies in the various
post-offices, news was always forthcoming of the
approaching despatch of a valuable prize by the
government mail carts or Dak runners from Agra
to the adjacent native states. Almost at the same
time as the last named robbery took place, a detachment
from the main gang stopped the mail cart and
seized its contents, carrying off a quantity of bullion
in British sovereigns. A second similar robbery
was also effected on the Ajmere frontier, in which
the post-office employee was wounded. These treasure
Dacoities were no doubt facilitated by the niggardliness
of the transmitters, who sought to save
the expense of hiring a special escort notwithstanding
the enormous amount at stake, as much as thirty
lacs of rupees, or &pound;300,000, having been passed at
times from Bombay to Indore.</p>

<p>On one occasion in 1864, a police confederate
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span>
gave notice of a consignment of treasure, 30,000
rupees, from Bombay, passing through Berar, which
was intercepted and attacked in a ravine near Mulkapore.
The mail cart arrived about dusk, when
the robbers fell upon it and the drivers, and the
small escort of four matchlock men fled. The bullion
was loaded quickly on camels, carried away
and buried in the jungle before the news of the
theft reached Mulkapore. A month later, when the
booty was about to be divided among the different
gangs engaged, they quarrelled fiercely over the
shares and one of the party stole away and brought
the police upon the scene. The treasure was thus
recovered and many important arrests were made.</p>

<p>This money had been forwarded up country to be
employed in the purchase of cotton at a time when
the great American War of Secession had paralysed
the cotton industry, and great enterprise was being
shown in obtaining the scarce commodity. This
“cotton hunger” extended to India, and the productive
cotton fields there were being despoiled to
meet the demand. Heavy remittances in cash were
in consequence constantly transmitted up country,
and the temptation was great to highway robbers.
It was the same with regard to opium, largely produced
in the province of Malwa. Not only was the
drug itself plundered in transit to Bombay, but
the purchase money of the goods was intercepted on
its way to pay the cultivators.</p>

<p>Many noted Dacoits rose into prominence when
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span>
the crime was most prevalent. One was Jowahirra
Durzee, a thief of the boldest type who wandered
through Central India planning and executing robberies.
There were thirteen such crimes to his
credit in the province of Berar and eight more
around Poona. He was a fine-looking man who
was caught by the Nizam of Hyderabad and sentenced
to be beheaded, but who escaped from gaol
with the connivance of the native guard. He renewed
his activity and made a great haul in Berar,
robbing a couple of country carts conveying cash to
the value of 66,000 rupees sent from Bombay for
the purchase of cotton. The thieves had only time
to bury their plunder and disperse, but returned a
month later to dig it up and divide it. After making
Poona the centre of operations, he was again arrested
and committed to the British lock-up at
Jalna, from which he was rescued by a daring comrade,
Kishen Sing, who forced an entrance into the
prison by climbing the wall and overpowering the
sentry.</p>

<p>Afterward Jowahirra, when retaken, described
what had occurred. Two steel clasp knives with file
blades had been conveyed from Bombay and smuggled
into the prison. With these the prisoners cut
through their leg-irons in six days, after which their
friends came and carried them off to where three
swift camels were waiting for them outside the
town. The Indian criminals are ingenious in dealing
with their fetters to compass escape. They are
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span>
independent of files. Thirty of the worst prisoners
confined in the central gaol of Agra contrived to cut
through their irons by means of threads manufactured
from their clothing and thickly coated with
pounded glass or emery powder. The threads were
first anointed with gum to which the powder adhered,
thus forming a sawing instrument equal to a
file. Jowahirra’s subsequent depredations were on
a large scale. He was often associated with the
notorious Dacoit Jeewun Sing, (of whom more directly),
and they controlled large numbers of tribal
thieves, Meenas and Rhatores and Rohillas, who
were at one time computed to amount to nearly
four hundred. Jowahirra was in due course tried
as a professional Dacoit and sentenced to fourteen
years’ transportation to the Andaman Islands.</p>

<p>Jeewun Sing was a native of Bikaneer and a
camel carrier who conveyed specie and other consignments
for the bankers of Berar, and as such he
enjoyed a reputation for honesty and fair dealing
in the delivery of goods entrusted to him. Yet he
was in collusion with Meena Dacoits who came
down from the country in quest of plunder, and
whom he harboured and hid in two temples near
Oomraotee until news came of treasure on the move.
Jeewun Sing, who had taken service with the
Mypore police for his personal safety, secretly directed
these gangs and was concerned in several
of the heaviest robberies, receiving always his share
of the proceeds,&mdash;a fourth or fifth. He did not
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span>
join personally in the work, but sent agents to represent
him. He was a general carrier, whose camels
travelled to Bombay, Indore, Jeypore, Jubbulpore,
and who was true to his employers as a cloak to his
proceedings against others. This police inspector,
so long the confederate of robbers, lived under a
cloud and his arrest was often strongly urged, but
he was spared through the protection of his police
superiors, and not a little on account of his usefulness
in securing the conviction of others. But this
double traitor, disloyal to his sect and the betrayer
of his confederates, was in the end dismissed from
the service.</p>

<p>Kishen Sing, the noted Rhatore leader of Dacoits
who rescued Jowahirra Durzee, was one of the
chief agents of this same Jeewun Sing. Kishen
Sing was informed against by his confederate,
Choutmull, for declining to submit to his demands
and was supposed to have died in custody at Aboo.
The story of this fictitious death so admirably illustrates
Eastern duplicity that it deserves mention.
Kishen Sing was a desperate character whose crimes
were many and atrocious. He murdered one of his
associates in a mail cart robbery; he attacked two
sepoys going on furlough, and in the fight which
ensued slew one while he himself was wounded;
and he was in the habit of disguising himself as
an officer in the Nizam’s cavalry in order to carry
out his robberies. One of his most daring deeds
was rifling a treasure convoy on the high-road between
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span>
Sholapore and Hyderabad. The money was
30,000 rupees in specie and some chests of bullion,
and was carried in the wagons of a transit agency
under escort of some Arab mercenaries. A fierce
conflict was fought, but the Dacoits got the best
of it and carried off the treasure. Later Kishen
Sing was arrested and laid by the heels at Mount
Aboo to await trial.</p>

<p>He was resolved to escape his fate of certain
transportation. First he tried to commit suicide
with a piece of glass, then he simulated madness and
at last took to malingering. He was seized with a
terrible hacking cough and grew visibly worse, so
that his release as incurable was all but recommended.
Then he apparently died. Leave was
sought from the local authorities to bury him and
not burn him as was the usual procedure with a
Hindu corpse. His body was handed over for interment
to four or five low caste men engaged by
an old and faithful follower of his who had taken
the garb of a mendicant and occupied a small hut
just outside the gaol gates. The undertakers were
in the secret, and they placed the living corpse in a
shallow grave face downward, covering it with
thorns and brushwood, on the top of which a thin
layer of earth was laid. The defunct made no move,
and after dark the faithful Gosaen, who had been
on the watch, came and dug up the “dead” Kishen
Sing. It was thus clearly proved that burial did
not mean death and that, provided a person is placed
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span>
faced downwards with no superincumbent weight
of earth, life may be safely prolonged for hours.
The escape of Kishen Sing was not realised until
he was discovered alive and well in his native village.
How he imposed upon the medical officer
whose duty it was to furnish a certificate of death
does not appear upon the record.</p>

<p>A curious feature in Indian Dacoity was that
gangs were led in more than one instance by female
<i>jemadars</i> or captains. One of the most notable was
a certain Tumbolin whose husband had met his
deserts in the Madras territory and had been executed.
After his death, his wife was installed in his
place by the universal acclaim of his followers, and
she fully justified her appointment. She became a
most capable chief, ably managed all the affairs of
the gang, sought out the needful information as to
the promise of spoil, the best methods of attack, and
settled every preliminary. She went with her men
to the point of action, but did not join personally
in the fray, leaving the actual command to a trusty
lieutenant, by name Himtya, chosen by herself, and
who became her right hand man.</p>

<p>One of the boldest operations ever attempted by
Dacoits was the attack made by Tumbolin’s gang
upon a military treasure in the heart of the military
cantonments of Sholapore. In quest of booty, she
had brought her party down in person from Central
India and had encamped at Nuldroog, about fifteen
miles from Sholapore, a wild spot within the territory
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span>
of the Nizam of Hyderabad. Accompanied by
her faithful Himtya and others, disguised as wandering
minstrels, she explored the neighbourhood
and penetrated the military quarter of Sholapore.
They sang their songs before the officers’ bungalows
and at last boldly entered the general’s garden in
which a sentry was posted. Over the hedge they
saw a sentry, and more to the purpose, saw that he
was in charge of the treasure chest of the military
force. Meanwhile Himtya had gone off independently
and had marked down as a hopeful prey the
house of a wealthy tobacconist and banker in the
town of Sholapore.</p>

<p>The two enterprises were discussed that night on
return to camp, and although the banker’s promised
to be the easiest job, an attack upon a military force
was the most audacious and, if successful, would
secure the largest prestige. It was decided to attempt
the latter enterprise, pausing for a day or two
in order to reconnoitre their ground, the best means
of approach, and the surest line of retreat if pursued.
The British garrison was large and consisted
of a native infantry and a troop of European horse
artillery. It was an important station where many
high officials resided, judge, collector and magistrate,
and a local gaol was established within the
fort. It was a hard nut to crack, but Tumbolin did
not despair. First removing their encampment to
some distance, the rendezvous was fixed on some
broken ground near the deposited treasure, which
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span>
was last seen by Himtya when being locked up in
the right hand compartment of the tumbril.</p>

<p>At nightfall the sepoy sentry guard retired into
their guard room, leaving a double sentry to guard
the treasure. Himtya’s first step was to secure the
guard by locking them into their quarters; then he
and his men crept up under cover of a tall cactus
hedge until they reached the tumbril, when two of
the Dacoits rushed simultaneously upon the two
sentries and speared them, while a third robber
broke off the padlock of the tumbril and laid open
the right compartment of the treasure chest. It
was empty, for the money had been transferred that
very day to the other side. By this time, the alarm
had been raised. The sentry in the general’s garden
adjoining opened fire, and some of the officers ran
up with shot-guns, by which one of the robbers was
wounded. The attack had failed and the tables
were turned. The bugles rang out with a general
call to arms and the baffled Dacoits hastily decamped.</p>

<p>Pursuit followed, but the robbers were fleet of
foot and arrived safely at their encampment, where
all was in readiness for flight, ponies were mounted,
Tumbolin astride on her favourite piebald, and they
galloped away through the night and the next day
until the party reached and crossed the Kistna, after
which they were beyond pursuit. Great commotion
had been caused in Sholapore. The troops stood to
their arms all night and patrols of cavalry scoured
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span>
the whole country round. The English general in
command reported that Sholapore had been attacked
by a numerous and well-organised banditti, but, as
a matter of fact, Tumbolin’s whole gang numbered
no more than sixteen persons.</p>

<p>Tumbolin long continued her depredations and
her success was great. Ten years after the attack
on Sholapore, her gang visited the city of Poona at
a moment when the chief of police was being married
and the entire force was in attendance upon
the marriage procession. Himtya seized the occasion
to break into the house of a rich Marwaree
merchant and rifle his strong room. The attack
was made with flaring torches and a great outcry
and succeeded, but two of the robbers were captured
as they fled through the town, one of them Himtya
himself. Tumbolin escaped and was, indeed, never
taken, although a large price was put upon her head.
She retired at length at a good old age to die peacefully
among her own people in the fastnesses of the
Oude Terai.</p>

<p>Grassia was a famous leader of Khunjur Dacoits
who had become an approver after capture. When
he died his widow, a woman of fine presence and
masculine gait, consecrated her children by a solemn
oath to their father’s profession. She seemed to
anticipate that the boys would be worth little at
the work, but relied upon her one girl to turn into
a capable leader such as Tumbolin. Grassia’s
daughter grew up into a fine woman, with no particular
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span>
good looks, but of imposing aspect. She
never married, bearing in mind her mother’s injunctions
to devote herself to the care of her brothers,
and to keep Tumbolin before her as a model for
imitation, and she no doubt led her gang with much
energy and success. In older times there were female
Thugs, women who accompanied their husbands
on expeditions, and one is mentioned by Sleeman
who was the <i>jemadar</i> of a gang of her own.</p>

<p>A horrible story of a Dacoit’s revenge is told by
Mr. Arthur Crawford. After an outbreak of the
Bheels in October, 1858, which was commenced by
one of their number, Bhagoji Naique, shooting the
superintendent of the police near Sinnur, the majority
of the Bheels took to Dacoity under the leadership
of Bhagoji. At this time an old Bheel named
Yesoo, a friend of Bhagoji’s, was living in the same
neighbourhood in a village which was a favourite
camping ground for Europeans on account of the
facilities it offered for sport. Yesoo was on very
friendly terms with the sportsmen and endeavoured
to dissuade Bhagoji from his traitorous designs, but
without success. After the murder of the police
official, Yesoo refused to join the rebels, and was
excused on account of his age and lameness and left
to live in peace in his village, Bhagoji little thinking
that all the while he was secretly supplying the English
with valuable information concerning the plans
and whereabouts of the Dacoits. When the disturbance
had been quelled and an amnesty proclaimed,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span>
one of Bhagoji’s most faithful adherents
returned to his home and settled down quietly in his
native village not far from Yesoo, who by this time
was well known to have been a government informer
and was very proud of the fact. This apparently
did not affect Hanmant, who tried to be on
good terms with the old man, and frequently visited
him, inviting him to bring his family over to his
(Hanmant’s) village. But Yesoo was wary and
kept the young man at arm’s length. Hanmant, finding
all attempts to lure the old man away from the
security of his own village in vain, conceived a diabolical
plot to bring about his revenge. “Taking
some fifteen or twenty of his own people and a few
more Bheels who had sworn to be revenged on
Yesoo, he repaired one night to Yesoo’s village,
silently surrounded the Bheel quarter, and then sent
one of his men to fire the village stackyard at the
other side of the village. Just as he anticipated,
the alarm was no sooner given than every male
Bheel in the ‘Warra’ (their quarters outside the
village proper), including Yesoo and his two sons,
went off at best speed to the fire, the women and
children collecting outside their huts to view the
blaze. In an instant the revengeful gang surrounded
the ‘Warra,’ and with his own hand Hanmant
cut down and horribly mutilated Yesoo’s two
wives and daughters, the other women were gagged
and bound, and then Hanmant and a select few,
armed with matchlocks, lay in ambush by the path
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span>
Yesoo and his sons must return by. Yesoo he shot
with the muzzle of his gun nearly touching his body,
and the sons and one Bheel who showed fight were
disposed of by his comrades; the other Bheels dispersed,
while Hanmant and his gang quietly returned
home. Suspicion, of course, immediately
fell upon Hanmant. One of his confederates
peached. Hanmant escaped into the jungle, but was
caught half-famished about a week afterward. Ultimately
he and two accomplices were executed at
the scene of the murder, Hanmant exulting up to
the last moment in the dreadful deed, which he had
been brooding over for nearly five years.”
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br />

<span class="medium">CHARACTERISTIC CRIMES</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Extended use of poison&mdash;Horrible stories&mdash;The Gaekwar of
Baroda charged with attempted poison of British resident,
Colonel Phayre&mdash;Diamond dust&mdash;Modern instances in
Bombay&mdash;Murders numerous&mdash;Police practices tending to
concealment of evidence&mdash;Decapitation&mdash;Strangulation&mdash;Stinging
to death&mdash;Crushing to death by an elephant&mdash;Leading
traits in Indian criminals&mdash;Frauds and forging&mdash;Story
of the Black Hole of Calcutta.</p>

<p>The crime of secret poisoning as a lethal agent
has ever largely prevailed among a timid and deceitful
people inclined to prefer treachery to open
violence. Under the Mussulman dynasty, assassination
by poison flourished exceedingly. It was
effective in removing a pestilent competitor or a too
ambitious minister, a jealous or untrustworthy wife
or a hateful husband. The action of poison was
often mysterious and its symptoms obscure in countries
where the light of medical knowledge burned
dimly, and when fatal might easily be attributed to
the noxious effect of the narcotics so largely indulged
in. The facility with which poison could
be administered is constantly indicated in the ancient
writings; the Shastras or sacred books of the

<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span>
Hindus, illustrating and explaining the Vedas, enlarge
upon the precautions that should be taken to
protect the life of the rajah or ruler from the subtle
attacks of those around him. The danger of death
by poisoning lurks commonly in the domestic relations;
a great crowd of servants fill the purlieus of
the palace, actively engaged in the preparation of
food and often at liberty to pass freely to and fro.
One Shastra lays down the necessary qualities of
a cook as skill, cleanliness, good character and even
temper so that neither greed nor revengeful feeling
should incite him or her to mix something poisonous
in the pot. Another goes further and enlarges
thus upon the methods of detecting the personal
characteristics of any one likely to give poison,&mdash;“He
does not answer questions, or only gives evasive
answers; he speaks nonsense; rubs the great
toe along the ground and shivers; his face is discoloured;
he rubs the roots of the hair with his fingers;
and he tries by every means to leave the
house.”</p>

<p class="caption"><i>Execution in India</i></p>

<blockquote>

<p>A common mode of execution in India, for which the
elephant is easily trained. In the early times of uprising or
rebellion, elephants were also used against the enemy, and
would make short work of piling up great pyramids of human
heads.</p></blockquote>

<div class="figcenter">
<img id="i124" src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:a:arthur-griffiths-oriental-prisons-i124.jpg" alt="" />
</div>

<p>Some horrible stories are preserved of the ruthless
administration of poison by the Mohammedan
sovereigns in India. Thus Tavernier, the French
traveller in the seventeenth century, says of the
great state prison of Gwalior that the emperor
Aurungzeb was so sensitive lest he should be stigmatised
as a cruel prince he never suffered any great
subject to survive long in prison; at the end of the
ninth or tenth day the captive was removed by
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span>
poison. No doubt Hyder Ali poisoned a number
of his English prisoners, and the inhuman murder
of General Mathews by Tippoo Sing is told by
James Bristowe, who suffered a long captivity under
the same merciless monarch. The general was poisoned
under the most abominable circumstances.
He was starving himself to death rather than partake
of the food issued to him, which he had discovered
contained poison. He studiously abstained
from food for several days until at length, tortured
by overmastering hunger, he devoured a plate of
poisoned victuals and expired a few hours later in
violent convulsions. Another officer, Captain Romley,
who saw himself constrained to swallow poison,
preferred to commit suicide by some other means.
Yet again, Lieutenant Fraser had poison forcibly
poured down his throat.</p>

<p>The traditions of the native states as to poisoning
were preserved in at least one till a late date in the
last century. In Baroda, a Rajput ruler, the Gaekwar
Mulhar Rao, was the centre of a nest of criminal
intrigue rivalling anything in the past, as great
a miscreant as any one in his depraved court and
more guilty than any of his subjects in the use of
his despotic power. Crime was the very breath of
his princely house; its members hated one another
with bitter animosity; assassination, largely by
secret poisoning, was the chief avenue to the throne,
but all kinds of flagitious means were employed to
secure succession; charges backed by elaborate perjury
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span>
were as often used to upset a rival aspirant, as
powdered arsenic or diamond dust to remove him
permanently to another sphere.</p>

<p>In the generation to which Mulhar Rao belonged,
violent deaths had constantly paved the way to the
throne. One of five sons reigned in 1847. Two of
his brothers died suddenly, and the prince himself
a few years later. He was succeeded by the fourth
brother, Khander Rao, whom the fifth, Mulhar Rao,
at once attempted to poison, but he was detected and
taken into custody. Then Khander Rao sought to
protect himself by appealing to sorcery and black
arts, and finding no certain security, consulted a
Brahmin who strongly recommended human sacrifices.
Whereupon Khander Rao selected thirty-five
prisoners in his gaol of Baroda, whom he ordered
for execution at the rate of five daily. Twenty-five
had suffered before the butchery ceased. Mulhar
Rao still lived, and recourse was had to simpler
methods; his cook was suborned and provided with
powdered arsenic, the most commonly tried drug,
but the poison failed in effect because, although the
noxious food was consumed, remedies were applied
in time.</p>

<p>False testimony was next adduced, and Mulhar
Rao was accused by perjured witnesses of plotting
to have his brother Khander Rao shot by a European
soldier, and on this flimsy pretence he was
closely confined in the prison of Cadra. He had
sympathisers and they soon felt the weight of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span>
Khander Rao’s hand. Four of them were seized,
accused of holding secret communication with the
prisoner, and sentenced to various forms of capital
punishment. One was hanged, another beheaded, a
third blown from the mouth of a gun and the fourth
was thrown under the feet of an elephant to be
trodden to death. Suddenly Khander Rao himself
died, not without suspicion of foul play, and Mulhar
Rao walked straight from the gaol to the throne,
where he was soon to emulate the misdeeds of his
predecessors.</p>

<p>The new Gaekwar had no claims upon the regard
of his subjects. Almost wholly uneducated and
with no mental gifts, he failed to inspire respect or
devotion. He was not without astuteness, but was
obstinate as a mule and fierce as a tiger. His person
was unattractive; he was undersized, of mean
appearance, with a coarse, swarthy complexion; he
squinted, and from his large sensual lips black teeth
protruded savagely. Unlike his brother Khander
Rao, he had no taste for field sports, and he had
converted the race course at Baroda into a carriage
drive for the ladies of his zenana.</p>

<p>Mulhar Rao’s private life was desperately evil.
In his early years he was often thought to be mad
on account of his passionate and ungovernable
temper. Even as a child he committed crimes, impelled
by fierce hatred and lust for revenge. His
youth was made up of poisonings and attempts to
poison. When he came to power he destroyed his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span>
enemies, real or fancied, wholesale. His gaolers
collected victims in a row, and one by one poison
was poured forcibly down their throats. One of
those he most cordially detested was offered poisonous
pills, and when he refused to swallow them he
was despatched in a more expeditious fashion by
being squeezed to death in a special machine. This
man’s chief crime was that he had been a creature
of Khander Rao’s.</p>

<p>The new Gaekwar’s victims were so numerous
that it was a current phrase in the city, “Has he
killed many to-day?” He spared no man in his
anger, no woman in his lust. Justice was bought
and sold, the claimant who had the longest purse
always won his case; public business was neglected;
the most unworthy were advanced; bribery and
corruption were the rule in every branch of administration.
The crown and finish to Mulhar Rao’s
offences was his alleged plot to poison the British
resident, Colonel Phayre.</p>

<p>There had long been distrust between the Gaekwar
and the representative of the British government,
whose profound disapproval of the prince’s
proceedings was soon made manifest. A more serious
difference arose when the Gaekwar insisted that
his infant son, born of his latest marriage, should
be recognised as the next heir to the throne. There
were grave doubts of the child’s legitimacy. His
mother, Luxmeebee, had been forcibly abducted
from another husband who was still alive at the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span>
time of its birth. Colonel Phayre refused to acknowledge
the child and Mulhar Rao vowed vengeance.
One of his first dastardly attempts was to
poison all the inmates of the residency by causing
a pound of arsenic to be mixed with the ice sent in
for daily consumption. This device failed, and the
next attack was aimed directly at the resident
through his own body servants.</p>

<p>Colonel Phayre was in the habit of drinking a
glass of sherbet every morning when he came home
from an early walk. It was awaiting him on the
hall table and was prepared with sugared water
and fresh pumelo juice. One day he swallowed
only a mouthful of this drink, disliking its taste,
and threw the rest out of the window, when he detected
a small amount of sediment in the bottom of
the glass. When analysed subsequently, this was
found to contain arsenic and diamond dust. Suspicion
was at once aroused, and the possession of
the powder charged with these ingredients was
traced to a <i>havildar</i> of the military guard of the
residency, who kept it concealed in his waist belt.
It was not believed that any subordinate and impecunious
person could have afforded to buy diamond
dust, and attention was at once diverted from the
<i>havildar</i> to the prince, whose bitter feeling toward
the resident was well known.</p>

<p>Evidence so damnatory against Mulhar Rao was
collected that the government of India attached his
person and decided to prosecute him. A special
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span>
court of inquiry was appointed, composed of three
English and three native commissioners, the first
three leading lights on the Indian bench, the second
three Maharajas of the highest rank. The Gaekwar
was permitted to engage counsel, and was defended
by one of the most eminent of British barristers at
that time, Sergeant Ballantine. The arraignment
of a reigning prince for the crime of murder by the
supreme power to whom he owed allegiance caused
a great sensation in India, and the issue of the protracted
trial was watched with great interest at
home. In the end the three English commissioners
were of opinion that the Gaekwar was guilty
through his paid agents of an attempt to poison
Colonel Phayre, and on the other hand, their three
native colleagues considered that the charge was not
proved. The result was much criticised and indeed
condemned, but the adverse finding was accepted
by the then viceroy, Lord Northbrook, who forthwith
deposed Mulhar Rao and deprived him and his
issue of all rights to the throne. The decision was
based upon “his notorious misconduct, his gross
misgovernment of the state and his evident incapacity
to carry into effect the necessary reforms,” the
chief of all being the reform of his own evil nature
and personal character.</p>

<p>Sergeant Ballantine dissented from the view
taken by the English commissioners and disapproved
of Lord Northbrook’s action. Following
the old legal axiom that the best course of an advocate
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span>
whose case is bad is to abuse the other side,
the learned counsel threw the blame chiefly upon
Colonel Phayre. “He (Colonel Phayre) was fussy,
meddlesome and thoroughly injudicious,” the sergeant
wrote in his memoirs. “There were two adverse
parties in the state, and instead of holding
himself aloof from both, he threw himself into that
opposed to the Gaekwar and was greedy to listen
to every accusation and complaint that with equal
eagerness was gossiped into his ears.” But these
last were by no means imaginary. Mulhar Rao’s
vile conduct was never in doubt, and it was clear
that he had tampered with the resident’s servants.</p>

<p>As regards the diamond dust which played a
somewhat exaggerated part in the affair, there is
nothing to substantiate the common belief that it
is a deadly poison, any more than ground glass,
which has an equally bad name. It is an old and
exploded superstition. The notorious “succession
powder” of the old Italian poisoners was supposed
to be diamond dust. Voltaire tells us that Henrietta,
Duchess of Orleans, died of acute irritant poisoning,
the poison being diamond powder mixed
with pounded sugar and strewn over strawberries.</p>

<p>It may be noted here that the abominable practice
of widow-burning seems to have originated as a
check upon the wife’s desire to get rid of her husband.
The practice dates back to the time of
Strabo, who gives the above origin for it. It was
so common, says Mr. William Methold, that a law
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span>
was passed insisting that the wives should accompany
their deceased husbands to the funeral pyre.
According to one authority, poisoning by wives
was so frequent that, in any one year, four men died
to every woman. Originating as a deterrent, the
burning of widows became in due course an act of
pious devotion, a deed of self-immolation acceptable
to their bloodthirsty gods. But the original reason
is often quoted in the ancient writings, and the remarks
of a traveller, Robert Coverte, may be quoted
in point. “The cause why this law was first made
was for that the women there were so fickle and inconstant
that upon any slight occasion of dislike or
spleen they would poison their husbands; whereas
now the establishing and executing of this law is
the cause that moveth the wife to love and cherish
her husband and wisheth not to survive him.” It is
very much to the credit of the old East India Company
that it sternly suppressed the practice of
<i>suttee</i> with the other iniquitous forms of wrong-doing,
such as Thuggee, sacrificial suicide, infanticide
and so forth. A crime so largely practised
through the ages by rulers and prominent personages
was likely to be generally imitated by commoner
people.</p>

<p>The general use of drugs to compass murder
which still commonly obtains is not a little due to the
facilities with which poisons may be procured, not
only from the unchecked sale, but because they may
be picked up, so to speak, on every hedge. Quoting
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span>
Dr. Cheevers, the varieties of poison used are very
limited and may be briefly described. The most
common are the preparations of arsenic, aconite,
nux vomica, opium, oleander, datura and ganja,
or Indian hemp. Many more drugs are, however,
procurable in Indian bazaars, and Dr. Cheevers has
compiled a list, more or less incomplete, of upwards
of ninety, including those already mentioned. Of
late years the large increase in dispensaries and the
wide importation of chemicals has led to poisoning
by sulphate of zinc, Prussic acid, strychnine, cyanide
of potassium, belladonna and chlorodyne.</p>

<p>Some remarkable cases of poisoning were brought
to light in Bombay a few years ago, chiefly through
the strenuous efforts of highly intelligent native detectives.
A diabolical plot to destroy a whole family,
of which four died and several were nearly
killed, was the so-called De Ga conspiracy in 1872.
An unknown messenger delivered two confectionery
cakes as a gift with the compliments of a near relation.
Fatal results ensued with all who partook of
the sweets. Suspicion at last fell upon a brother of
the De Ga family who hated his relations and who
accomplished the deed, assisted by an accomplice
and especially by his father who pretended to invoke
the aid of sorcery.</p>

<p>Twenty years later a family of five persons was
destroyed by one of the sons, Bachoo, a spendthrift
and gambler, who wished to expedite his inheritance.
Strychnine was the drug used, and it was
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span>
administered by the cook in the food he prepared.
Bachoo’s father was the first to succumb, and he
was quickly followed by the rest of the family.
When the strychnine was found in the exhumed
bodies, the police cleverly traced its purchase by
Bachoo from the druggists, and he and his confederate
were tried, convicted and hanged.</p>

<p>The quick-witted Hindu criminal soon adopted
the European method of securing ill-gotten gains
by the insurance and murder of unsuspecting victims.
Palmer of Rugeley and La Pommerais of
Paris had many imitators in the East. A poor
creature of weak intellect, Anacleto Duarte by
name, was done to death in this way by a friend
and patron who pandered to his vices and often lent
him small sums to be spent in drink. At last the
latter, who was a bailiff in one of the Bombay
courts, contrived that Duarte should be insured in
the Sun Life Office of Canada for the sum of 10,000
rupees. Fonseca, the bailiff, paid the premiums and
was named in the policy as the beneficiary to receive
the amount insured if it became payable. After
Duarte’s death the agent of the insurance company,
suspecting foul play, refused to hand over the
amount and the police were called in. It now appeared
that Fonseca and Duarte had visited a liquor
shop together; that when two glasses of rum were
served to them, Duarte complained that his had a
bitter taste, caused no doubt by the addition of a
pill which he had seen Fonseca put into his glass.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span>
When Duarte’s body was exhumed, the existence
of strychnine in the viscera was verified, and it was
shown that Fonseca had bought it ostensibly as a
poison for rats. Fonseca was found guilty and duly
hanged.</p>

<p>The criminal operations of the Dacoits who relied
upon datura have been already detailed. There
were also gangs in Bombay who made it their business
to arrange marriages for well-to-do men with
suitable spinsters of great attractions supposed to
belong to respectable families. After the marriage
the happy bridegroom found to his cost that he had
been deceived, and he woke up one fine morning
without his wife, who had fled with her accomplices,
carrying off all his jewels. In these cases datura
again had been the drug used. A company of poisoners
long flourished in the province Scinde. These
villains were in the habit of disguising themselves
as <i>fakirs</i> who visited people of known wealth and
offered them food in God’s name. It was generally
accepted and piously consumed with fatal results,
after which their houses were plundered. The impunity
with which this crime was everywhere perpetrated
was one of the greatest evils from which India
has suffered.</p>

<p>It is generally believed that many more brutal
murders are committed than are actually brought
to light. The police custom of dragging witnesses
from their houses for long periods encouraged those
dwelling in the neighbourhood of the crime to combine
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span>
in concealing the circumstances and, if possible,
the actual fact. It was the habit of the police at one
time to pounce down upon a suspected village, assemble
the residents, and harangue, browbeat and
threaten them with pains and penalties to extort unwilling
confessions. Worse still, these witnesses
were dragged great distances, a hundred or a hundred
and fifty miles, to appear before the courts to
give evidence. A great improvement has, however,
taken place in recent years. Good roads and railways
have greatly facilitated communication, the
magistracy is active and efficient and criminal sessions
are held monthly even in the most remote
districts.</p>

<p>Murder by violence was quite as common in
India as by poisoning and committed often by peculiar
and unconventional means. Various kinds of
weapons were employed. Among them were the
bludgeon and the club or <i>lathi</i>, the stout and weighty
bamboo staff which, when the thick end is bound
with iron, becomes a tremendous weapon of offence.
The head is most frequently assailed, and deadly
blows result in broken scalps or crushed-in skulls
with frightful injuries affecting also the heart, liver
and spleen. The club is made of hard wood and in
shape is not unlike an exaggerated rolling pin. In
one case a stone pestle was used to pound in the
victim’s head.</p>

<p>The favourite cutting weapon was the <i>tulwar</i>, or
curved sword, which could slash a person almost to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span>
pieces with clean-cut saucer-shaped wounds. The
<i>tulwar</i> has a sharp point, but was seldom used to
stab. The halberd had a crescent blade set in a
heavy wooden handle. A chopper could do terrible
mischief, the axe likewise, and the bill or hatchet
with a hooked point. Death could be given with a
spear head, arrow or dagger, the kris or the <i>aro</i>,
a three-pronged striking instrument like a trident.
Fatal wounds have been inflicted by a strip of split
bamboo long and sharp pointed.</p>

<p>Strangulation has been practised in other ways
than by throttling with the handkerchief. It was
the custom when killing children for their ornaments
to squeeze or compress the throat with the hands,
assisting the process with the pressure of the knee
or foot, and more violence was often employed than
was necessary to cause death. Sometimes one bamboo
stick was placed over the throat and another
under, so that the compression between became
fatal.</p>

<p>Suicide by hanging is common in India, and sometimes
murderers, having accomplished their purpose
by cruel blows, have been known to suspend their
victims by the neck to give the impression of self-destruction.
Murder by hanging is not unknown in
India. There are several cases on record where persons,
after being cruelly misused, were hanged while
still alive.</p>

<p>Homicide by exposing the victim to be bitten by
poisonous snakes was practised in the olden times
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span>
and was known to the penal code as a method of
inflicting capital punishment. “Witches were
crammed into a small chamber full of cobras, where
they first half died of fright and then quite died
of snake bites.” A Gentu prisoner in 1709, after
inconceivable torture in the scorching sun by day,
was cast by night into a dungeon with venomous
snakes to keep him company. It is mentioned in
history that Hannibal during a naval action with the
Romans launched earthen pots filled with snakes
into the enemy’s ships.</p>

<p>The high intelligence of the elephant enabled the
native to train it to become the executioner of
criminals in India. The great beast would obey the
orders of his <i>mahout</i>, whether to kill instantly by
the pressure of his foot or to protract the culprit’s
agony by breaking his bones one by one and leaving
him to die by inches. A parricide, bound, was fastened
by his heels with a small iron chain to the
hind leg of an elephant and dragged two miles
across country till all the flesh was worn from his
bones. At Baroda, in 1814, a slave who had murdered
his master was similarly made fast to the
right hind leg of an elephant, and at every step of
the beast it jerked the victim forward so that in a
few moments every limb was dislocated. He was
as much broken as on the wheel after being dragged
five hundred yards. The man, covered with mud,
still showed signs of life, and was suffering excruciating
tortures. In the end the elephant, as he had
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span>
been trained to do, placed his foot on the criminal’s
head and at once killed him.</p>

<p>The criminal records are full of the forgery of
banknotes, the coining of false money, of daring
robberies committed when houses are broken into,
bank premises invaded and iron safes are forced.
Sharpers and swindlers, rivalling the most astute in
Europe or America, have flourished and defied the
pursuit of the police. Some very notable manufacturers
of spurious currency notes have spread dismay
in financial circles. One of the most active and
successful was a certain Vancutta Chellummyab,
whose arrest in Madras in 1872 caused a great sensation
throughout India. A vast amount of false
Madras currency notes were in circulation in the
three presidencies, to the total face value, it was
said, of four lacs of rupees. The fraud was discovered
at Benares, when a pretended agent of a
Madras rajah paid for extensive purchases of jewelry
with spurious notes. The chief forger, Vancutta
Chellummyab, when finally arrested in Madras,
had notes in his possession concealed in an old
portmanteau to the value of upwards of two hundred
thousand rupees. A few years later Bombay
was the centre of operations, and a large quantity
of the most perfectly imitated notes were fabricated
and in circulation. Information was given by one
of the principals in the fraud to divert attention from
himself, and a descent made by the police secured
a quantity of tools and materials for engraving
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span>
counterfeit notes and coining bad Australian sovereigns.
There were dies, moulds and stamps and a
number of coins, foreign and native, manufactured
out of the baser metals.</p>

<p>One of the most expert forgers of any age or
country was a man named Govind Narayen Davira
of Bombay. He came of a family of forgers, the
son and grandson of forgers, and did a large business
in his nefarious art. A single scrap of handwriting
sufficed to enable him to fabricate a whole
document. He knew all about the action of chemicals
on paper and could erase all traces of original
writing to give a clean sheet for a fresh fraudulent
statement. He was known to have converted a
government promissory note of 5,000 rupees into
one of double the amount. His frauds extended
over a period of five or six years and were finally
exposed by the failure of an attempt to blackmail.</p>

<p>Davira was a popular person because he was liberal
to his poorer confederates. But he fell at last
into the hands of the police and was lodged in Poona
gaol. Here, being resolved to avoid trial, he compassed
self-destruction in a very reckless fashion.
A kerosene oil lamp was kept constantly burning in
his cell, rather rashly. He contrived to saturate his
clothing with the oil and then set fire to himself
with the result that he was practically burned alive.</p>

<p>One of the cleverest frauds was the forgery of
postage stamps in Bombay. A forged stamp came
into the possession of a London collector, by whom
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span>
the fact was reported to the postmaster-general in
Bombay. The forgery was the work of one of
Davira’s gang and was traced to a Brahmin, Shrida,
who had succeeded in producing an excellent imitation
with the clumsiest implements. He first printed
the stamp on a lithographer’s stone and then coloured
it so exactly that it deceived even experts.
Many hundreds of these stamps were seized when
Shrida was arrested.</p>

<p>The ingenuity of the cheats and swindlers in
planning their frauds was only equalled by the simplicity
of their victims. Over and over again the
revelation of hidden treasure was made to dupes,
who paid for the knowledge of the whereabouts of
the secret hoards, said to be the property of dead
rajahs, or the proceeds of great robberies which had
to be temporarily abandoned. Credulous fools were
imposed upon by fictitious <i>fakirs</i> claiming the alchemist’s
power to transmute the commoner metals
into gold and silver, or religious impostors played
upon their superstitious disciples to acquire a similar
power. There were at one time thirty-five different
gangs of swindlers who preyed upon goldsmiths,
pawnbrokers and money changers. One of these
confederacies was called the “golden gang,” the
members of which uttered false money or made
large purchases of jewelry for imaginary governors
and rajahs, for which they evaded payment, or
raised money upon sealed packets, the valuable contents
having been spirited away by sleight of hand.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span></p>

<p>Until the middle of the last century very extensive
frauds were practised by the misappropriation of
timber in the large forests of India. The natives
seemed to have believed in their prescriptive rights
to what was really the exclusive property of the
state. Thousands of people were engaged in cutting
down trees for firewood, when it was within
paying distance of removal by road or rail to some
neighbouring city. These depredations have now
been checked by the establishment of an effective,
well-organised forest department, the officers of
which control and supervise large tracts of timber,
cutting down when desirable and planting afresh to
ensure future supply. The reader will remember
Rudyard Kipling’s graphic account of the Indian
forest officer and his remarkable native assistant,
Mowgli, of the story, <i>In the Rukh</i>, in the volume
entitled, “Many Inventions.”</p>

<p>Housebreaking is among the minor crimes of
India which is especially troublesome. Earthen
walls and foundations facilitate the operations of
the thieves who are commonly known as “wall-piercers.”
These depredators are in the habit of
making a hole through the walls, driving a gallery,
in fact, into the interior of a house through which
they can wriggle into the strong room, generally
situated about the centre. As it is always understood
that the owner of the house may be on the
alert and in waiting to receive the thief, as a matter
of precaution he will either emerge feet foremost or
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span>
push before him an earthen vessel having something
of the shape of a man’s head to receive the first
blow of the <i>tulwar</i>, or other defensive weapon. The
Indian housebreaker is a slippery customer, difficult
to seize, for he is usually naked, and has carefully
oiled his person so as to easily slip through the
fingers of any one who lays hold of him.</p>

<p>I cannot bring this account of crime in India to
a close without mention of an atrocity which is unequalled
in the annals of human oppression.</p>

<p>What imprisonment may mean in the East, when
inflicted in defiance of the most elementary conditions
of health in a tropical climate, has been recorded
in letters of blood in the awful story of the
Black Hole of Calcutta. The miscreant responsible
for the crime was the Nabob of Bengal, Surajah
Dowlah, who had gained a fleeting triumph over the
early English settlers, and having captured Fort
William at the mouth of Hugli, and made all the
occupants prisoners, he turned them over to his
savage followers. For security they were incarcerated
in one small room or chamber some eighteen
feet square. The season was the height of summer;
the room was closed to the eastward and southward
by dead walls and to the northward by a wall and
door, so that no fresh air could enter save by two
small windows, strongly barred with iron. Into
this limited space 146 human beings were crammed,
already in a state of exhaustion by a long day spent
in fatiguing conflict, and several of them seriously
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span>
wounded. Piteous entreaties were made to the
guards on duty to diminish the numbers imprisoned
by removal elsewhere; large sums were offered as
the price of this boon, but with no effect. No step
could be taken without the permission of the Nabob,
who was asleep, and none dared wake him. After
vain attempts to break open the doors and fruitless
appeals to the mercy of the sleeping Nabob, “the
prisoners went mad with despair.” The rest of the
story can best be told in the words of one of the
masters of the English language, Lord Macaulay.
“They trampled each other down, fought for the
places at the windows, fought for the pittance of
water with which the cruel mercy of the murderers
mocked their agonies, raved, prayed, blasphemed,
implored the guards to fire among them. The gaolers
in the meantime held lights to the bars, and
shouted with laughter at the frantic struggles of
their victims. At length the tumult died away in
low gaspings and moanings. The day broke. The
Nabob had slept off his debauch, and permitted the
door to be opened. But it was some time before the
soldiers could make a lane for the survivors, by
piling up on each side the heaps of corpses on which
the burning climate had already begun to do its
loathsome work. When at length a passage was
made, twenty-three ghastly figures, such as their
own mothers would not have known, staggered one
by one out of the charnel house. A pit was instantly
dug. The dead bodies, a hundred and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span>
twenty-three in number, were flung into it promiscuously
and covered up.</p>

<p>“But these things which, after the lapse of more
than eighty years, cannot be told or read without
horror, awakened neither remorse nor pity in the
bosom of the savage Nabob. He inflicted no punishment
on the murderers. He showed no tenderness
to the survivors. Some of them, indeed, from
whom nothing was to be got, were suffered to depart;
but those from whom it was thought that anything
could be extorted were treated with execrable
cruelty. Holwell, unable to walk, was carried before
the tyrant, who reproached him, threatened him,
and sent him up the country in irons, together with
some other gentlemen who were suspected of knowing
more than they chose to tell about the treasures
of the Company. These persons, still bowed down
by the sufferings of that great agony, were lodged
in miserable sheds, and fed only with grain and
water, till at length the intercessions of the female
relations of the Nabob procured their release. One
Englishwoman had survived that night. She was
placed in the harem of the prince at Moorshedabad.”</p>

<p>It is told in history how the merciless Nabob was
eventually called to strict account. The English at
Madras vowed vengeance, and an expedition was
forthwith fitted out for the Hugli, small in numbers,
but full of undaunted spirit, and led by one
of the most famous of British soldiers, Lord Clive.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span>
The victory of Plassy, which consolidated the British
power in India, overthrew Surajah Dowlah, who
expiated the crime of the Black Hole when captured
and put to death by his successor Meer Jaffier.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br />

<span class="medium">THE ANDAMAN ISLANDS</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Revived as a penal settlement after the Indian Mutiny in
1857&mdash;Now holds some twelve thousand convicts&mdash;Port
Blair system established&mdash;Graduated treatment&mdash;Well-selected
marriages&mdash;Lapses from good order&mdash;Cases and
causes&mdash;Assassination of Lord Mayo&mdash;The aboriginal
Andamanese&mdash;The Tarawas&mdash;Escapes constantly effected
by Burmese prisoners&mdash;General results achieved&mdash;Development
by cultivation&mdash;Clearance of forests&mdash;Tea plantation&mdash;Numerous
exports&mdash;Deportation from the Straits
Settlements to Bombay&mdash;Ratnagiri gaol.</p>

<p>The Indian government long practised transportation
beyond the seas as a punishment for the most
determined criminals. The terrors of crossing the
“black water” were very potent to the native mind,
although the effect of the penalty as a deterrent was
never marked and the practice gradually fell into
desuetude. But it was revived in 1857 as a solution
of the difficulty in dealing with the great body of
rebels and mutineers in custody charged with participation
in the great Indian Mutiny, a special
commission was despatched to visit the Andaman
Islands and report upon their fitness for the establishment
of a great penal settlement. To the student
of penal science, the results achieved in the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span>
Indian Ocean, or more exactly, the Sea of Bengal,
must be extremely interesting. The system of
transportation has succeeded better there than anywhere
else, whether in the Australian colonies,
where it resulted in the creation of a great nation
at the cost of much human misery, or in the French
experiment in New Caledonia. Russia has also
tried transportation on a gigantic scale with the
most deplorable results in Siberia and on the island
of Saghalien.</p>

<p>The settlement on the Andamans, or more precisely
upon the northern and principal island, has
by this time accomplished a very distinct work in
penal colonisation. Many causes, natural and artificial,
have contributed to this gratifying result: a
fertile soil, a good, albeit tropical climate; an intelligent
administration, which has been backed up by
the willing efforts of convict labourers, alive generally
to their own benefit in making the best of the
system in practice. The force available for the cultivation
and development of the main island has
always been large.</p>

<p>It is an industrious, self-supporting and for the
most part peaceable population, where good order
and a quiet demeanour are enforced by stringent
discipline, although the inherent evil nature of so
many criminals cannot be invariably held in check,
and ghastly occurrences have from time to time
been recorded in almost every nook and corner of
Port Blair, the headquarters of the penal settlement.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span>
The Andaman convict has committed some heinous
offences; he is a murderer in some form or other,
deliberate, vindictive, or moved by sudden ungovernable
passion; he has been a highway robber or
persistent Dacoit; he has forged notes or securities
on a great scale. He has betrayed a serious trust,
has been a wrecker and desperado, and has more
than once deserved the extreme penalty of the law.
Beneath the surface the community is a seething
mass of depravity, of wickedness, generally latent,
but breaking out often in the most violent and
bloodthirsty excesses.</p>

<p>To have held the dangerous elements continually
in check, to have largely modified and counteracted
their evil tendencies, and to have returned the worst
characters to their homes cured and reformed is a
subject for congratulation by those who achieved
it, and some account of the system employed at the
Andamans is worth giving here. It is right, however,
to admit that this system is not entirely efficacious.
All are not amenable to better influences
and a certain small percentage remains incorrigible.
Some four per cent. of the total population have
shown themselves so desperately bad that it has been
deemed unsafe to suffer them to leave the precincts
of the gaol.</p>

<p>Every convict on first arrival is relegated to the
close confinement of the cellular prison by way of
breaking him in, and he is detained there under the
most irksome conditions for an unbroken period of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span>
six months. He remains in his cell all day and all
night, save for a brief space spent at exercise with
others, but in strict silence. His next step is to an
associated gaol where gang labour of a severe character
is enforced, and is imposed for a year and a
half. Then come three years of unremitting toil,
the exact counterpart of penal servitude as understood
in Great Britain&mdash;hard labour under supervision,
unpaid, unrewarded, but he is well fed, well
housed and cared for, and always closely guarded.
Five years have thus elapsed in a painfully monotonous
and irksome existence, after which his employment
is pleasanter and his personal capacity is
studied; the more intelligent are selected for positions
of trust and authority.</p>

<p>Comparative freedom comes at the end of ten
years, the convict gains his ticket-of-leave and is
called in local language a “self-supporter.” He has
done, more or less, with prison restraints; he lives
in some small village in a house of his own and
earns his living his own way; he farms; he keeps
cattle; he moves about freely unguarded and unwatched;
he sends home to the mainland for his
wife and children; or, if single, he may marry a
female convict in the same position as himself. His
condition is to a certain extent enviable. If industrious,
he may make and put by money, but still he
is tied and bound by regulation; he has no civil
rights, and is in the hands of a paternal authority
which prescribes his place of residence and will
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span>
suffer him to move to and fro within his village, if
well conducted, but he cannot leave the settlement
and he must not be idle under pain of the loss of
privileges and relegation to enforced labour. Existence
nevertheless is tolerable, and in this way he
completes ten or fifteen years more until at length
the time for absolute release arrives. In the earlier
period of this last stage he has received assistance
in the shape of free gifts of food and tools and a
roof to cover him, but his self-reliance is stimulated
by the obligation in later years to fend for himself
and accept all the public burdens of the community.
He must pay rent and taxes and all charges exacted
from the free population. All the disabilities are
equally imposed upon female convicts with permission
to marry or enter domestic service after five
years of conditional liberation.</p>

<p>We see in this system a consistent effort to encourage
self-help and self-restraint. Moral improvement
is its great aim; good conduct is encouraged;
retrogression, or lapse into wrong-doing,
is punished by the withdrawal of privileges and a
return to irksome restraint. On the other hand,
substantial reward is offered to those who have
made the best use of their ticket-of-leave, and the
old convict, purged of his original offence, emerges,
and, backed by the small capital he has saved, has
become an orderly and reputable member of society,
thoroughly reformed, broken to harness and reasonably
certain to continue in the straight road. He is
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span>
neither pauper nor gaol-bird; he is no unwelcome
burden on his relatives, no menace to public security,
but a source of strength rather than weakness to
the body politic. Penal exile has never before
achieved such excellent results. Steady industry,
as we have seen, is the general rule, and morality is
greatly encouraged. Convict marriages, such a
fruitful source of evil elsewhere, as in New Caledonia
and Saghalien, where they have fallen largely
into disuse, are preceded by so many precautions
that the bond when entered into is seldom broken.
The fitness of the contracting parties is personally
inquired into by the chief authority of the place
who must give his sanction or no marriage can take
place. Permission is refused in certain cases as
when a husband in India declines to divorce his convict
wife, or when the applicants are of bad character
or the male is an hereditary Dacoit, or when
there is a difference in caste. Great care is also
taken of the children when any are born. The
young are well cared for; primary education is
compulsory and technical instruction is free to all.
Thrift is steadily inculcated in the rising generation
and stimulated by the example of the elders. No
institution is more flourishing at Port Blair than
the savings bank, and the self-supporting convicts
are often considerable depositors from the economies
made in their allowance and the profits on
their labour. Sanitation receives the very best attention
in the islands, and both death and sick rate
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span>
are, for the East, exceptionally low. The public
health is seldom, if ever, affected by malignant epidemic
disease; cholera is a rare visitant, and small-pox
is constantly kept in check. There is an abundant
and most efficient medical staff, and the convicts
at large, as well as those actually in durance,
can count upon the official doctor’s unremitting care.</p>

<p>Although the general tone of the settlement is
excellent, and good order is preserved, there are
occasionally lapses among the convicts whose manners
and dispositions are by no means mild and submissive,
nor can their evil impulses be easily repressed,
or still less entirely stamped out. The convict
temper is irritable and breaks out often into
resistance to authority and bitter quarrels of one
with another which sometimes end in murderous
affrays. There is a seamy side to Port Blair which
is often shown in resistance to authority exercised,
as it mostly is, by fellow convicts advanced to positions
of trust; for some six per cent. of well-conducted
convicts are regularly employed as warders,
guards and overseers. This is in accordance with
the general practice in India, although entirely condemned
by modern penal science. Nevertheless,
mutiny and insubordination are uncommon on any
large scale, although vindictive feelings are aroused
and cherished at real or fancied injustice and oppression,
and in the annals of murders committed
one or two convict officials killed by comrades figure
annually.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span></p>

<p>The causes of murder in the Andamans hardly
differ from those inciting to it elsewhere. Murderous
passion is swiftly aroused among men with
savage, irritable tempers, quick to quarrel, quicker
still to strike; consuming thirst for revenge will
be slaked only in blood; and greed and covetousness
are easily awakened in people whose self-control
is weak. A small reason often suffices for the
infliction of death. A convict asked a village
woman to be allowed to husk his rice in her mortar
and killed her brutally with an axe when she refused.
An old Dacoit, who had been refused permission
to marry, killed a more fortunate rival to
whom the woman of his choice was given. Two
convicts, about to be granted tickets as self-supporters,
were eager to obtain sufficient funds to give
them a good start; they discovered that a convict,
who was a notorious miser, had a secret hoard, and
his fate was sealed. His body was picked up in a
running stream with his head broken in. A somewhat
similar case was that of a labouring convict
who was in possession of a sum of money lent by
a friend; he first was inveigled into a lonely spot
and there knocked down by a blow on the eye, after
which he was strangled. A convict employed as a
petty officer in hospital incurred the deadly enmity
of a patient for reporting him to the doctor, and
the patient gave vent to his hatred by killing his
enemy with a thrust of a pointed bamboo. The
same weapon was used by another convict who beat
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span>
out the brains of a petty officer for slapping him on
parade in the presence of a hundred men. One convict
had caught another hanging about the barrack
room bent upon thieving, and having expressed his
intention of denouncing him was murdered while
asleep on his bed. A convict warder supervising a
party of sail-makers had reason to find fault with
one of his charges for idling, and at the first opportunity,
before anyone had time to suspect or prevent
him, the labourer picked up a knife and stabbed the
overseer.</p>

<p>Any weapon would serve to give effect to the
homicidal frenzy; sometimes it was a rice pounder,
sometimes a wooden crutch, sometimes an axe for
cutting firewood, sometimes a heavy mallet used in
wool-teasing. The convicts were known to commit
the capital offence in order to draw down the death
penalty when they were tired of life from long
brooding over fancied unjust treatment. Sentence
of death by hanging was the invariable requital
of murder when clearly proved, and it was passed
by a sessions’ judge, subject to subsequent confirmation
by a court of reference. Lesser punishments
were sometimes imposed, such as prolonged transportation
or relegation to the chain gang, while
corporal punishment was ordered for lesser offences.</p>

<p>An atrocious murder which echoed through the
whole world was that of the viceroy of India, Lord
Mayo, who was killed by an Andaman convict in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span>
1872. The viceroy had visited Mount Harriet, a
finely wooded slope rising above Port Blair and
looking out over Viper Island with a glorious view
eastward, in order to judge of its suitability as a
sanatorium. He had just finished the descent.
“The ship’s bells had just rung seven; the launch
with steam up was whizzing at the jetty stairs; a
group of her seamen were chatting on the pier-end.
It was now quite dark, and the black line
of the jungle seemed to touch the water’s edge.
The viceroy’s party passed some large loose
stones to the left of the head of the pier, and advanced
along the jetty; two torchbearers in
front.” The viceroy, preceding the rest, stepped
quickly forward to descend the stairs to the launch.
The next moment the people in the rear heard a
noise, as of “the rush of some animal” from behind
the loose stones; one or two saw a hand raised
and a knife blade suddenly glisten in the torchlight.
The viceroy’s private secretary heard a thud, and instantly
turning round, found a man “fastened like
a tiger” on the back of Lord Mayo.</p>

<p>“In a second twelve men were on the assassin;
an English officer was pulling them off, and with
his sword-hilt keeping back the native guards, who
would have killed the assailant on the spot. The
torches had gone out; but the viceroy, who had
staggered over the pier-side, was dimly seen rising
up in the knee-deep water, and clearing the hair
off his brow with his hand as if recovering himself.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span>
His private secretary was instantly at his side in the
surf, helping him up the bank. ‘Burne,’ he said
quietly, ‘they’ve hit me.’ Then, in a louder voice,
which was heard on the pier, ‘It’s all right, I don’t
think I’m much hurt,’ or words to that effect. In
another minute he was sitting under the smoky
glare of the re-lit torches, on a rude native cart at
the side of the jetty, his legs hanging loosely down.
Then they lifted him bodily on to the cart, and saw
a great dark patch on the back of his light coat.
The blood came streaming out, and men tried to
staunch it with their handkerchiefs. For a moment
or two he sat up on the cart, then he fell heavily
backwards. ‘Lift up my head,’ he said faintly, and
said no more.”</p>

<p>The assassin, Sher Ali, was a very brave man
belonging to one of the Afridi tribes, who had done
excellent service to more than one commissioner at
Peshawar and distinguished himself as a soldier.
He was completely trusted by Colonel Reynolds
Taylor, one of the best of our Indian officers, when
at Peshawar, and was often in attendance on his
family; in fact, he was the confidential servant of
the house. This man, however, belonged to a society
in which tribal feuds were a hereditary custom.
Some such feud existed in his family and he was
called upon to take his part in exacting a bloody
vengeance for a quarrel. Had he committed the
murder on his own side of the frontier, no notice
could have been taken of it; and it would have been
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span>
esteemed a legitimate deed sanctioned by the religious
feelings and customs of the tribe; but his offence
was committed within British territory and
must be tried by British laws. He was convicted
and sentenced to transportation to the Andamans
instead of death, which he would greatly have preferred.
Continually brooding under a sense of
wrong, he took the first opportunity that offered for
murderous retaliation and found the death he desired,
on the gallows.</p>

<p>Attempts to escape from the islands were at
times frequent, encouraged by the easy access to the
sea and the facility with which boats could be seized.
But recaptures were also constantly made, and there
were other chances against the fugitives, especially
that of being run down by the aboriginal Andamanese.
The natives of these islands are savages of a
Nigrito race allied to the Papuans, but who, from
having had no connection with the outer world for
several centuries, have kept their blood absolutely
pure. They are of small stature, the males a little
under five feet in height, but finely made and well
proportioned. In colour they are a jet black, and
are among the darkest hued specimens of mankind.
They are inveterate smokers, men, women and
children, and are bright and intelligent, somewhat
childish, petulant and quick tempered, but merry
and light-hearted. They constitute a good unofficial
guard, and as they constantly prowl round the convict
settlements are a great deterrent to escape.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span>
Being well used to jungle life, they are very successful
trackers, who frequently bring back fugitives
dead or alive. If by chance the evading convicts
fall into the hands of the Jarawa tribe, their
fate is sealed. These Jarawas are and always have
been utterly irreclaimable; neither kindness nor
force has had any appreciable effect in overcoming
their unconquerable dislike to strangers, even of
their own blood belonging to other tribes. Armed
with bows and arrows, they show fight whenever
encountered, and when pressed and punishment is
attempted, they retire into the impenetrable jungle.
With the exception of these irreconcilables, the
Andamanese have been trained, like other wild animals,
by patience and kindness to treat us with entire
confidence and trust.</p>

<p>The strong yearning to escape torments more
especially the natives of Burmah, a large number
of whom are deported to the Andamans. They are
a semi-amphibious race, largely brought up to a
life on the water, expert boatmen and tireless swimmers.
Precise rules are in force at the Andamans
that only a limited number of Burmese may be
included in any one boat’s crew. More than half
the escapes by water were accomplished by Burmese,
who boldly ventured out into the open sea,
risking all its perils to win across to their dearly
loved native land. It is a curious fact that the
Burmese Dacoit, who would face the death penalty
with fortitude, has always dreaded imprisonment or
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span>
deportation with overmastering terror. One explanation
of this consuming dread is the not uncommon
fear of the unknown. Again, the treatment of
prisoners in Burmah under the native r&eacute;gime was
merciless; the most excruciating tortures were the
rule, and protracted life was worse than a thousand
deaths. Exile to the Andaman Islands was anticipated
with nameless apprehension. The case of a
famous Dacoit may be quoted in proof of this. He
had been long in custody; he awaited his trial with
patience and resignation, and he would have heard
a sentence of death unmoved, but he was quite
overcome when a short term of transportation to
the Andamans was passed upon him, although it
was accompanied by a promise of early conditional
liberation. When the time came for his departure,
he refused to move off with his escort, kicking and
even biting everyone within reach, and eventually he
had to be tied with ropes and carried along.</p>

<p>In this connection, Major E. C. Browne, in “The
Coming of the Great Queen,” tells the following:</p>

<p>“It was the same with other Dacoits who had
been taken red-handed. Two or three were shot,
others flogged and released and several were detained
for deportation. These were the gloomiest
of all and begged to be killed or released. One
fellow actually succeeded in evading his sentence.
He had got hold of a soldier’s boot-lace and with
this he strangled himself during the night. I should
scarcely have been able to credit this story if the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span>
witness of the dead man in the morning, with the
boot-lace drawn so tight that it had actually penetrated
the skin, had not been an officer of my own
regiment whose veracity was unimpeachable.”</p>

<p>The best general account of the results obtained
in the Andamans is found in the address to the
Society of Arts by Colonel Temple, sometime chief
commissioner to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.
The Andaman penal system “is the result of the
constant attention of the government which created
it, and is the outcome of the measures of practical
men, devised to meet the difficulties with which they
have found themselves face to face, and reduced to
order and rule by some of the keenest intellects that
have worked in India for many years past.” Repeatedly
tinkered and patched and recast and remodelled
though it has been, the Andaman system
is still inchoate, still on its trial, as it were. It could
not well be otherwise, for in dealing with the criminal
we are attempting to solve a mighty problem
as old as criminality itself.</p>

<p>From the best estimates at hand we may take it
that the permanent convict strength of the settlement
may be placed at about twelve thousand, of
whom about eight hundred are women, and the rule
is that only life convicts are sent from India and
life and long-term convicts from Burmah. The
people received, therefore, are the murderers who
have for some reason escaped the death penalty,
and the perpetrators of the more heinous offences
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span>
against person and property, the men of brutal violence,
the highwaymen, the robbers, the habitual
thieves and the receivers of stolen goods, the worst
of the swindlers, forgers, cheats, coiners and, in
fact, the most unrestrained temperaments of a continent.
These considerations show the scale of the
work and the nature of the task. Any one observing
the work of the English in the East may possibly
be struck with the idea that the reason for the
acknowledged capacity of the race for colonial enterprise
and the maintenance of empire is the ability
and the willingness of the average Englishman to
put his hand to any kind of work that may come his
way, without any special training, from framing
suitable laws and regulations and creating suitable
organisations to making roads and ditches, building
houses and clearing land and ploughing it. Here in
Port Blair, the officers entrusted with the creation
and organisation had no training for the work and
were without any special guidance and teaching, yet
they managed, with the worst possible material to
work upon, to create in little more than forty years,
upon primeval forest and swamp, situated in an enervating
and, until mastered, a deadly climate, a
community supporting itself in regard to many of
its complicated wants.</p>

<p>They began with the dense forests, the fetid
swamps and the pestilential coral banks of tropical
islands, and have made out of them many square
miles of grass and arable lands, supporting over
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span>
fifty villages besides convict stations. Miles upon
miles of swamp have been reclaimed, the coral
banks have been controlled and a place with regard
to which the words climate and pestilence were almost
synonymous has been turned into one favourably
spoken of as to its healthiness. The settlement
now grows its own vegetables, tea, coffee, cocoa,
tapioca and arrowroot, some of its ordinary food
grains and most of its fodder. It supplies itself
with the greater part of its animal food and all its
fuel and salt. In other lines of work, it makes its
own boats and provides from its own resources the
bulk of the materials for its buildings which are
constructed and erected locally. Among the materials
produced are all the timber, stone, bricks, lime
and mortar, and most of the iron and metal work
are made up there from raw material. In the matter
of convict clothing, all that is necessary to be purchased
elsewhere is the roughest of cotton hanks and
wool in the first raw condition, every other operation
being performed on the spot. It provides
much of its own leather.</p>

<p>In achieving the results, the officers have had
first to learn for themselves as best they could how
to turn out the work to hand and then to teach what
they had learned to the most unpromising pupils
that can be imagined for the work required of them
in Port Blair. And they have been hampered all
along by the necessities of convict discipline, by the
constant release of their men and their punishment
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span>
for misconduct. It is under such conditions that
the corps of artificers and other convicts have had
to be utilised. Nevertheless, the roads and drains,
the buildings and boats, the embankments and reservoirs,
are as good and durable as are the same
class of structures elsewhere. The manufacturers
are sufficient for their purpose, and there are among
the taught those who are now skilled in the use of
many kinds of machinery. Cultivation is generally
fair and some of it very good; the general sanitation
is literally second to none.</p>

<p>First of all the industries of the Andamans is that
of timber, and to accelerate and increase it a steam
tramway has been instituted and there are now
some fourteen miles of line connecting the forests
with the shores of Port Blair. As a further adjunct
steam saw-mills were erected in 1896 and a
forest department that employs from five to six
hundred men daily under its own officers, not only
supplies the settlement with all of its requirements
in timber from the local forests, but also exports
timber and forest produce to various places in India
and Europe. Of these latter exports, rattans and
gurjun oil are the chief; other natural products of
the islands are trepang, tortoise-shell and edible
birds’ nests, but they are collected only in small
quantities. The principal cultivations in which convicts
and ex-convicts are engaged are paddy, sugar
cane, Indian corn and turmeric; cocoanuts have
during the past thirty-five years been extensively
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span>
planted, and besides the agricultural products previously
mentioned, vegetables and fruits of various
kinds are grown. The larger industries in which
the penal community is engaged have already been
alluded to, but there are many minor employments,
the products from which also go toward making the
settlement self-supporting. Among these are to be
found the manufacture of all kinds of furniture,
cane chairs, baskets, many varieties of bamboo work
and ornamental woodcarving, woven articles from
serviettes to saddle-girths, and blankets, pottery,
rope and mats, silver, tin, brass and iron work,
shoes, rickshaws and carts, besides the production
of such materials as lime, bricks and tiles. Port
Blair is in communication three and often four times
a month with Calcutta, Madras and Rangoon by
the vessels of the Asiatic Steam Navigation Company.
The distances between the settlement and
the ports named are 796, 780 and 387 miles respectively.</p>

<p>The earliest penal settlement on the Andamans
was in the southern island, where it was founded on
the present site of Port Blair in 1792. It was
known as the “old harbour.” After three years
the establishment was moved to the present Port
Cornwallis on the northern island, but this proved
to be most unhealthy and it was closed, the convicts,
numbering some two hundred and seventy, being
removed to Penang, at the extremity of the Malay
Peninsula. In the early “fifties” the Straits Settlements
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span>
sometimes sent their long-term convicts
to Bombay, from where they were usually drafted
to such moist and congenial climates as Tannah and
Ratnagiri. By good behaviour they earned tickets-of-leave
to the hill stations, Mahabuleshwar and
Matheran, where they became the market-gardeners
of the place, many preferring to remain after their
time had expired, respected and respectable citizens,
often possessed of considerable wealth. At one
time the Ratnagiri gaol contained about three hundred
and sixty convicts; “at least two-thirds were
Chinamen and Malays from the Straits, great ruffians,
each with a record of piracy or murder, or
both combined. Many of them were heavily fettered
and carefully guarded by armed police when
at their ordinary work in the ‘laterite’ quarries,
for they were mostly powerful men;” the tools
they used were formidable weapons and as there
were known to be deadly feuds always present
among them, serious disturbances and outbreaks
were constantly dreaded. Nevertheless, misconduct
was exceedingly rare; breaches of gaol discipline
were much fewer among these desperadoes than
among the milder Hindus in the work-sheds within
the gaol. The fact having in due course created
much surprise, inquiries were instituted as to why
pirates and murderers, usually so insubordinate in
other places, were so well-conducted and quiet at
Ratnagiri.</p>

<p>The riddle was presently solved. “For some
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span>
years one Sheik Kassam had been gaoler. Belonging
to the fisherman class and possessed of very
little education, he had, nevertheless, worked his
way upward through the police by dint of honesty,
hard work and a certain shrewdness which had more
than once brought him to the front. At last,
toward the end of his service, the gaolership falling
vacant, he was, with everyone’s cordial approval,
nominated to the post.” With comparative rest and
improved pay, the old gentleman waxed fatter and
jollier and was esteemed one of the most genial
companions the country could produce. The cares
of state, and the responsibility of three hundred
murderous convicts, weighed lightly on Sheik Kassam.
He developed a remarkable talent or predilection
for gardening, almost from the first. “He
laid out the quarry beds, brought water down to
irrigate them, produced all the gaol required in the
way of green stuff, and made tapioca and arrowroot
by the ton. The better plot of land belonging to the
gaol lay between Sheik Kassam’s own official residence,
a tiny bungalow-fashioned dwelling, and a
walled courtyard near to the highroad. The sheik
had no difficulty in obtaining permission to erect a
high wall of rubble from the quarries along the
whole road frontage, so that, as he urged, the convicts
at work in the garden would not be gazed at
by passers-by, and that forbidden articles, such as
tobacco, sweetmeats, liquor, and the like, should not
be passed or even thrown over to them.”
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span></p>

<p>Presently this favourite slice of garden was safely
boxed in from the public view by an enclosure some
eight feet high, extending from the gaol itself round
to the gaoler’s house, the only entrance to it being
a little wicket-gate by the side of the sheik’s back-yard.</p>

<p>At last the head-superintendent of the Bombay
prison heard that Sheik Kassam’s disciplinary system
consisted in his bringing the most dangerous
of the Chinamen and Malays quietly into his back-yard
from the adjoining garden, and there regaling
them with plenty of sweetmeats, sugar, drink in
moderate quantity, and adding even the joys of female
society of a peculiar sort. If any one became
unruly or saucy, he was liable to get a dozen lashes,
but if they behaved decently they all had their little
festivals with regularity. After this discovery, poor
old Sheik Kassam’s character as a model gaoler was
gone; he was dismissed, but with a full pension
which he did not live long to enjoy.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br />

<span class="medium">PRISONS OF BURMAH</span></h2>

<p class="hang">British acquisition of Burmah&mdash;Quarrels with the king in
1824&mdash;His reprisals&mdash;British subjects seized and sent to
prison&mdash;Mr. Henry Gouger’s narrative&mdash;The “Death
Prison”&mdash;Gigantic stocks&mdash;Filthiness of prison&mdash;Tortures
inflicted&mdash;Barbarous trials&mdash;Horrible life&mdash;Rats
and vermin&mdash;Smallpox&mdash;Tobacco a valuable disinfectant&mdash;Another
“Black Hole”&mdash;Chained to a leper&mdash;Released
by the advance of British troops&mdash;Penal code of Burmah&mdash;Ordeals
and punishments&mdash;Treading to death by elephants&mdash;Dacoity
the last form of resistance to British rule&mdash;Prison
life&mdash;The Burmese gaol-bird&mdash;An outbreak.</p>

<p>The acquisition and annexation of Burmah by
Great Britain, first the lower province with three-fourths
of the seaboard, and then the entire kingdom,
were accomplished between 1824 and 1886, in
a little more than half a century, that is to say.
Until this took place the country was generally in
a state of anarchy, the king was a bloodthirsty despot,
and the state council was at his bidding no
better than a band of Dacoits who plundered the
people and murdered them wholesale. The ruling
powers were always anxious to pick a quarrel with
their powerful British neighbours, and were so unceasingly
aggressive that they brought on a war
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span>
in 1824, which ended in the capture of Rangoon and
the occupation of Pegu and Martaban with the cession
of the coast province of Aracan.</p>

<p>The outbreak of hostilities led to cruel retaliation
by the king of Burmah upon all Europeans who resided
in the country, whether as missionaries or
merchants engaged in trade. One of them, an Englishman,
Mr. Henry Gouger, was arrested as a spy
and arraigned before a court of justice with very
little hope of escaping with his life. He was fortunately
spared after suffering untold indignities and
many positive tortures. Eventually he published
his experiences, which remain to this day as a
graphic record of the Burmese prisons as they then
existed. He was first committed to the safe keeping
of the king’s body guard, and confined with his
feet in the stocks; then he was transferred to the
“death prison,” having been barbarously robbed
and deprived of his clothing. He was not entirely
stripped, but was led away with his arms tied behind
his back, bare-headed and bare-footed to the
<i>Let-ma-yoon</i>, the “antechamber of the tomb.”</p>

<p>Let me proceed now in the narrator’s own
words:&mdash;</p>

<p>“There are four common prisons in Ava, but one
of these only was appropriated to criminals likely
to suffer death. It derived its remarkably well-selected
name, <i>Let-ma-yoon</i>, literally interpreted,
‘Hand, shrink not,’ from the revolting scenes of
cruelty practised within its walls. This was the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span>
prison to which I was driven. My heart sank
within me as I entered the gate of the prison yard
which, as it closed behind me, seemed to shut me
out forever from all the interests and sympathies
of the world beyond it. I was now delivered over
to the wretches, seven or eight in number, who
guarded this gaol. They were all condemned malefactors,
whose lives had been spared on the condition
of their becoming executioners; the more hideous
the crime for which he had to suffer, the more
hardened the criminal, the fitter instrument he was
presumed to be for the profession he was henceforth
doomed to follow. To render escape without detection
impossible, the shape of a ring was indelibly tattooed
on each cheek, which gave rise to the name
they were commonly known by, <i>pahquet</i>, or ‘ring-cheeked,’
a term detested by themselves as one
of reproach and one we never dared to apply in addressing
them. The nature of his qualification for
the employment was written in a similar manner
across the breast. The chief of the gang was a lean,
wiry, hard-featured old man whom we taught ourselves
to address under the appellation <i>aphe</i>, ‘father,’
as did all his subordinates. Another bearing an appropriate
motto had murdered his brother and had
hidden his body piecemeal under his house. A third
was branded <i>thoo-kho</i>, ‘thief.’ This troop of
wretches were held in such detestation that the law
prohibited their entering any person’s house except
in execution of their office. It happened, soon after
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span>
I entered, that the exigencies of this brotherhood
were great from an increase of business, and no
brave malefactor (inhumanity was always styled
bravery here) being ready to strengthen the force,
a young man convicted of a petty offence was selected
to fill the vacancy. I beheld this poor youth
doomed to the most debasing ignominy for the
rest of his life by these fatal rings, his piteous cries
at the degradation he was undergoing being
drowned by the jeers and ridicule of the confederates.
They soon made him as much a child of the
devil as themselves.</p>

<p>“The ‘father’ of this interesting family received
me at the gate with a smile of welcome like the
grin of a tiger, and with the most disgusting imprecations
hurried me to a huge block of granite
embedded in the centre of the yard. I was made to
sit down and place my ankles on the block of stone
while three pairs of fetters were struck on with a
maul, a false blow of which would have maimed me
forever. But they were too expert for this, and it
was not a time to care for minor dangers. Thus
shackled, I was told, as if in derision, to walk to
the entrance of the prison-house not many yards
distant; but as the shortness of the chains barely
permitted me to advance the heel of one foot to the
toe of the other, it was only by shuffling a few inches
at a time that the task was accomplished. Practice,
however, soon made me more expert.</p>

<p>“It is not easy to give a correct idea of the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span>
prison which was destined to be my dwelling
place for the first year of my captivity. Although
it was between four and five o’clock on a bright
sunny afternoon, the rays of light only penetrated
through the chinks and cracks of the walls sufficiently
to disclose the utter wretchedness of all
within. Some time elapsed before I could clearly
distinguish the objects by which I was surrounded.
As my eyes gradually adapted themselves to the
dim light, I ascertained it to be a room about forty
feet long by thirty feet wide, the floor and sides
made of strong teak-wood planks, the former being
raised two feet from the earth on posts, which, according
to the usual style of Burmese architecture,
ran through the body of the building, and supported
the tiled roof as well as the rafters for the floor and
the planking of the walls. The height of the walls
from the floor was five or six feet, but the roof being
a sloping one, the centre might be double that
height. It had no window or aperture to admit
light or air except a closely woven bamboo wicket
used as a door, and this was always kept closed.
Fortunately, the builders had not expended much
labour on the walls, the planks of which here and
there were not very closely united, affording
through the chinks the only ventilation the apartment
possessed, if we except a hole near the roof
where, either by accident or design, nearly a foot
in length of decayed plank had been torn off. This
formed a safety-valve for the escape of foul air to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span>
a certain extent; and, but for this fortuitous circumstance,
it is difficult to see how life could have
been long sustained.</p>

<p>“The only articles of furniture the place contained
were these:&mdash;First and most prominent,
was a gigantic row of stocks similar in its construction
to that formerly used in England, dilapidated
specimens of which may still be seen in some of the
market places of our country towns. It was capable
of accommodating more than a dozen occupants.
Several smaller varieties of the same species lay
around, each holding by the leg a pair of hapless
victims consigned to its custody. These stocks were
heavy logs of timber bored with holes to admit the
feet and fitted with wooden pins to hold them fast.
In the centre of the apartment was placed a tripod
holding a large earthen cup filled with earth oil to
be used as a lamp during the night watches; and
lastly, a simple but suspicious looking piece of machinery,
whose painful uses it was my fate to test
before many hours had elapsed. It was merely a
long bamboo suspended from the roof by a rope at
each end and worked by blocks or pulleys to raise
or depress it at pleasure.</p>

<p>“The prison had never been washed, nor even
swept, since it was built. So I was told, and I have
no doubt it was true, for, besides the ocular proof
from its present condition, it is certain no attempt
was made to cleanse it during my subsequent tenancy
of eleven months. This gave a kind of fixedness
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span>
or permanency to the fetid odours, until the
very floors and walls were saturated with them.
Putrid remains of castaway animal and vegetable
stuff which needed no broom to make it ‘move on’&mdash;the
stale fumes from thousands of tobacco pipes&mdash;the
scattered ejections of the pulp and liquid
from their everlasting betel, and other nameless
abominations still more disgusting, which strewed
the floor&mdash;and if to this be added the exudation
from the bodies of a crowd of never-washed convicts,
encouraged by the thermometer at 100 degrees,
in a den almost without ventilation&mdash;is it
possible to say what it smelled like? As might have
been expected from such a state of things, the place
was teeming with creeping vermin to an extent that
very soon reconciled me to the plunder of the
greater portion of my dress.</p>

<p>“When night came on, the ‘father’ of the establishment,
entering, stalked towards our corner. The
meaning of the bamboo now became apparent. It
was passed between the legs of each individual and
when it had threaded our number, seven in all, a
man at each end hoisted it up by the blocks to a
height which allowed our shoulders to rest on the
ground while our feet depended from the iron rings
of the fetters. The adjustment of the height was
left to the judgment of our kind-hearted parent, who
stood by to see that it was not high enough to endanger
life nor low enough to exempt from pain.
Having settled this point to his satisfaction, the venerable
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span>
chief proceeded with a staff to count the number
of the captives, bestowing a smart rap on the
head to those he disliked, whom he made over to the
savage with a significant hint of what he might expect
if the agreed tally were not forthcoming when
the wicket opened the next morning. He then took
his leave, kindly wishing us a good night’s rest, for
the old wretch could be facetious; the young savage
trimmed his lamp, lighted his pipe, did the same act
of courtesy to all who wished to smoke, and the
anxious community, one by one, sought a short oblivion
to their griefs in sleep.</p>

<p>“In vain, however, did our little party court that
blessing; passing by the torment of thought, the
sufferings of the body alone were enough to prevent
it. I had youth on my side, and my slender frame
enabled me to bear the suspension better than my
fellow sufferers. The tobacco smoke was a mercy,
for it robbed the infliction of half its torment. A
year afterward, when we had to undergo a punishment
somewhat similar, though in a purer atmosphere,
we found the sting of the mosquitos, on the
soles of our undefended feet, ‘without the power
to scare away’ these venomous little insects, was
intolerable; whereas in this well-smoked apartment
a mosquito could not live. We were not aware at
the time what a happy exemption this was. What
a night was that on which we now entered! Death,
in its most appalling form, perhaps attended with
the agony of unknown tortures, was thought by all
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span>
to be our certain lot. Kewet-nee, who occupied the
next place on the bamboo, excited a horrible interest
by the relation of a variety of exquisite tortures
which he had known to be perpetrated under that
roof.</p>

<p>“The rays of the morning sun now began to
struggle through the chinks of the prison walls and
told us that day dawned, bringing life and happiness
to the world outside, but only the consciousness
of misery to all within. The prisoners being
counted and found to tally correctly with the reckoning
of overnight, symptoms of the routine of the
day began to attract attention. Our considerate
parent made his appearance and with his customary
grin lowered down the bamboo to within a foot of
the floor, to the great relief of our benumbed limbs
in which the blood slowly began again to circulate.
At eight o’clock the inmates were driven out in
gangs of ten or twelve at a time, to take the air for
five minutes, when they were huddled in again, to
make way for others; but no entreaty could secure
a repetition of the same favour that day, though a
bribe, which few could promise, might effect it.
Fresh air, the cheapest of all the gifts of Providence,
was a close monopoly in the hands of the
‘sons of the prison,’ who sold it at the highest price,
and with a niggard hand.</p>

<p>“After breakfast the business of trying the prisoners
began, and each was brought in turn before
the <i>myo-serai</i>, or assistant to the governor. The
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span>
first was a young man accused of being concerned
in the robbery of the house of a person of rank.
Whether the accusation was well founded or not I
had no means of judging except by the result; but
certainly the man had not the appearance of a robber.
As a matter of course, he denied the crime;
but denial was assumed to be obstinacy, and the
usual mode of overcoming obstinacy was by some
manner of torture. By order of the <i>myo-serai</i>,
therefore, he was made to sit upon a low stool, his
legs were bound together by a cord above the knees
and two poles inserted between them by the executioners,
one of whom took the command of each
pole, the ground forming the fulcrum. With these
the legs were forced upwards and downwards and
asunder, and underwent a peculiar kind of grinding,
inflicting more or less pain as the judge gave direction.
Every moment I expected to hear the thighbone
snap. The poor fellow sustained this torture
with loud cries but still with firmness until the
agony became so intense that he fainted. ‘The
tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.’ To restore
animation they resorted to cold water and shampooing.
Thus revived, he was again thrust back
into his den with menaces of fresh torture on the
morrow, as no confession had yet been wrung from
him. I may as well finish the revolting story at
once.</p>

<p>“True to his word, the <i>myo-serai</i> returned the
next day to renew his diabolical practices. This
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span>
time the culprit was tied by the wrists behind his
back, the rope which bound them being drawn by a
pulley just high enough to allow his toes to touch
the ground, and in this manner he was left until
he should become more reasonable. At length,
under the pressure of agonising pain, just in time
to save the dislocation of the shoulder, the criminal
made his confession and criminated two respectable
persons as accomplices. From what followed I
presume this was all that was wanted. The man
of justice had now two men in his toils who were
able to pay. The unfortunate man, who, when relieved
from the pain of the torture, acknowledged
he had accused innocent people, was returned to
gaol fearfully mangled and maimed; but instead
of meeting a felon’s fate, when time had been given
to fleece the two victims, he was released.</p>

<p>“Within the walls nothing worthy of notice occurred
until the hour of three in the afternoon. As
this hour approached, we noticed that the talking
and jesting of the community gradually died away.
All seemed to be under the influence of some powerful
restraint, until that fatal hour was announced
by the deep tones of a powerful gong suspended in
the palace yard, and a deathlike silence prevailed.
If a word was spoken it was in a whisper. It
seemed as though even breathing were suspended
under the control of a panic terror, too deep for expression,
which pervaded every bosom. We did not
long remain in ignorance of the cause. If any of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span>
the prisoners were to suffer death that day, the hour
of three was that at which they were taken out for
execution. The manner of it was the acme of
cold-blooded cruelty. The hour was scarcely told
by the gong when the wicket opened, and the hideous
figure of a spotted man appeared, who, without
uttering a word, walked straight to his victim now
for the first time probably made acquainted with
his doom. As many of these unfortunate people
knew no more than ourselves the fate that awaited
them, this mystery was terrible and agonising; each
one fearing, up to the last moment, that the stride
of the Spot might be directed his way. When the
culprit disappeared with his conductor and the
prison door closed behind them, those who remained
began again to breathe more freely; for another
day, at least, their lives were safe.</p>

<p>“It is not my intention to make this narrative a
chronicle of all the diabolical cruelties in this den
of abominations, but the first specimen which
greeted our eyes on the morrow may serve as a
fair sample of the practices which it was our fate
to behold almost daily. The routine was generally
this:&mdash;The magistrate takes his seat in the front
of the shed in which we occupy the background, as
though the spot had been selected for our convenience,
as spectators to behold an amusing exhibition.
A criminal is now summoned from the interior.
He hobbles out and squats down in terror before
the judge; the crime of which he is accused is
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span>
stated to him. He denies it; he is urged by various
motives to confess his guilt; perhaps he knows that
confession is only another word for execution;
therefore he still denies. The magistrate assumes
an air of indignation at his obstinacy and now begins
the work of his tormentor, the man with the
ringed cheek who has hitherto stood by waiting the
word of command. He has many means at his
disposal, but the one selected for the present instance
was a short iron maul. It would simply excite
disgust were I to enter into detail. Suffice it
to say that after writhing and rolling on the ground
and screaming with agony for nearly half an hour,
the unfortunate wretch was assisted to his den, a
mass of wounds and bruises pitiable to behold,
leaving his judge not a whit the wiser.</p>

<p>“By degrees we settled down into the habits of
the prison and were becoming familiar with such
scenes as I have recounted. We began also to speculate
on the length of time nature could hold out,
if we were left to test it. How long could we live
in such a plight without the use of water or other
means of cleanliness? Would habit reconcile us to
it as it apparently had done many of our fellow
prisoners? Some of them had lived there for years.
We gradually became acquainted with them and
with their crimes, real or imputed. There were
many cases in the calendar that were almost incredible
and showed that accident, caprice, superstition
and even carelessness occasioned their confinement.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span>
One grimy, half-starved old man had
been kept there three years and neither knew why
he was there nor who sent him. The crime of
another must have been that of a madman, or more
probably it was a false accusation, preferred to
gratify private revenge. He was said to have made
an image of the king and to have walked over it.
The mere imputation of practising necromancy
against the sacred person of the king was a fatal
charge. The poor fellow was taken from among
us at the hour of midnight and despatched by breaking
his spine. Why this singular method of slaughter
was resorted to, as well as the manner of carrying
it into execution, was as mysterious as the crime
itself; they were not at all particular as to the mode
of depriving their victims of life, but seemed to be
guided altogether by caprice.</p>

<p>“The plan of the prison yard shows that there
were a number of small cells used by the ringed
brotherhood, and the pleading of our amiable protectress
secured for us the liberty to occupy them. It
is true they were very small, the one I inhabited being
about five feet wide with just enough length to
lie down in; it was so low that I could not stand upright
except in the middle where the roof was highest;
but it was Elysium when compared with the suffocating
choke of the inner prison. Nor could it be
called altogether solitary confinement, for one of
our gaolers had a pretty daughter about sixteen
years old, who took a wonderful fancy to me and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span>
was a frequent visitor in my cell. She supplied me,
too, with an unspeakable luxury, water for ablution.
Oh, who can appreciate the gift but those
who have been long deprived of it? A scrap of
rag, moistened with some of the water given us to
drink, only served to smear the grime like a plaster
over our bodies. Now, once again I could call myself
comparatively clean. My cell had other advantages.
My eyes escaped many scenes of revolting
cruelty; my ears, many foul anathemas and gross
abuse; my lungs and olfactories, all sorts of abominations.
The chief loss was the society of my
friends. The rats, too, were numerous and troublesome
at first; but these, though a disgusting nuisance,
I managed to turn to account by the fancy
of the <i>pahquets</i> for their flesh. The Burmese hold
rats in about the same estimation as we do hares,
and sell them commonly in their markets for about
their own weight in lead. My cell, therefore, might
be regarded as a well-stocked preserve for game.
The burrows ran in all directions, and hardly a day
passed without my bagging a few heads of this
novel kind of game and handing them over to my
pretty visitor’s father, who willingly lent me his
spear for the purpose of destroying them. The
bait of a few grains of boiled rice at the entrance
of the burrows brought them out in shoals and gave
me the opportunity of spearing them. ‘What do
you expect will be your fate?’ said this pious Buddhist
as he once took the struggling vermin from
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span>
the spear, ‘when the time comes for me to serve
you as you are serving that creature?’ They all
looked forward to the pleasure of decapitating us,
and when in a mild humour would promise me as
a favour, to use their greatest skill so that I should
scarcely feel it. What a consoling thought!</p>

<p>“Shut up close in my little cell, I thought that
at all events my feelings would no longer be harrowed
with the sight of deeds of blood. To a certain
extent it was so; but even here there was no
abiding peace and quietness. One night as I was
vainly endeavouring to coax myself asleep, the
screams of an unfortunate wretch in the inner
prison fell upon my ear, and the door of my cell
being at the time unfastened and the prison wall
not more than three feet off, curiosity prompted me
to peep through a crack to see what fresh mischief
was on foot. Never shall I forget the foul assassination
I witnessed. The inmates were breathlessly
silent, evidently expecting some evil. The cries
proceeded from a young man who lay stretched on
the floor with his feet in the stocks. The lamp was
burning dimly, giving just enough light to show
the form of a grim <i>pahquet</i> striding toward his victim.
Without a word, he stamped several times on
the mouth of the youth with his heavy wooden shoes
with a force which must have broken his teeth and
jaws into fragments. From my hiding place, where
I stood trembling with terror, I heard the bones
crack and crash. Still the cries were not altogether
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span>
silenced, when the monster seized the club of the
savage, and with repeated blows on the body and
head pounded the poor sufferer to death. The
corpse was then taken from the stocks and buried
in the prison yard.</p>

<p>“Now news came of the defeat of the Burmese
troops in the field, and the governor wreaked his
vengeance on us. We were all hustled again from
our cells into the inner prison, to await any fresh
orders that might be issued from the palace. A
merciful Providence again averted the danger. For
a few days, probably a week, we were kept in the
old den of corruption, when time, as before, softened
down asperities, the rage of the governor and
of our keepers began to evaporate, and a little renewed
coaxing, backed by such insignificant bribes
as our people could yet afford to pay, regained for
us the favour of the cells in which we were once
more installed, and my war of extermination against
the rats recommenced.</p>

<p>“While we were passing this week in the inner
prison, a frightful event took place, which threatened
the immediate destruction of the whole community;
indeed, it is wonderful that the instinct of
self-preservation did not deter our parent of the
prison from executing his order. A woman was
brought in covered with the pustules of the small-pox.
Our doctor looked aghast and so did we all,
as well we might. It was a case quite beyond his
treatment, though it is strange the versatile doctor
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span>
did not undertake the cure. Even the Burmese
prisoners themselves expressed their astonishment,
but remonstrance was useless. The gaolers, however,
showed a little common sense by placing the
unfortunate creature in a clear spot by herself to
avoid contact with the other inmates of the prison,
with delicate threats of punishment if she moved
from it. We never heard what induced this barbarity,
but she was most likely suffering for the misconduct
of some relative in the war, and the authority
who sent her there could not have been aware
of the disease, for she had not been among us more
than twenty-four hours when she was again taken
away.</p>

<p>“But by what means was infection averted? Inoculation
or vaccination was unknown. Here were
about fifty persons living in the same confined room
without ventilation, and yet not one of them took
the disease. The fact seems almost miraculous, and
I should have doubted the nature of the malady had
it not been acknowledged and dreaded by everyone,
the natives as well as ourselves. I can only account
for our immunity by the free use of tobacco.</p>

<p>“After an engagement with the British troops,
many were taken prisoners and were brought to the
prison. Unfortunately, it so happened that one of
the freaks, already noticed as common to the gaolers,
had at this time consigned all our party to the
inner prison, and we beheld with horror about a
hundred of these men step one after another through
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span>
the wicket into our already well-filled prison, one of
the ringed fraternity remaining inside to see that
they were packed as close as possible. The floor was
literally paved with human beings, one touching
and almost overlapping the other on every side. It
soon became evident what must follow. Difficulty
in breathing, profuse perspiration and other disagreeables,
overcame the natural terror of their tormentors,
and the suffering multitude began to cry
aloud for air and water. The horrors of the notorious
‘black hole of Calcutta’ must have been re&euml;nacted
had the building been of brick, but the manner
of its construction, before explained, fortunately
prevented it. At length the clamour of the captives,
working probably on the fears of the gaolers themselves,
induced them to open the wicket door for the
night, some of their number keeping ward outside
as sentinels. By this means a general disaster was
avoided.</p>

<p>“This temporary influx of prisoners was the cause
of greater anxiety to me than to my companions
from a peculiar circumstance. The stock of fetters
in the establishment ran short, and to provide for
this unexpected demand our three pairs of fetters
were taken off for the night, one ring only being
left on the ankle, and by this we were chained one
to another, two by two, like hounds in couples, only
by the leg instead of the neck. Perhaps the reader
may think this was, at all events, a slight respite,
for which we ought to have been thankful. So it
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span>
was, to all except myself, for the luxury of being
able once more to stretch the legs apart was, no
doubt, a most grateful refreshment. But&mdash;my
flesh creeps when I think of it&mdash;I was chained to
a leper. My companion was an unfortunate Greek,
whose ankles had by this time broken out into unmistakable
open leprous sores, with which a few
inches of chain alone prevented contact, while at
the same time it kept me in terrible proximity. The
chain was kept at its full length all night, as may
be supposed, and sundry nervous jerkings from time
to time on my part to assure myself that it was so,
indicated the nature of my alarm to the poor man,
who was not unconscious of his malady, though he
would not openly admit it. He grew irritated at
my studied avoidance of him, and raised the question
himself only to deny it. This voluntary allusion
to it by himself, notwithstanding his denial,
only tended to confirm the fact. With what joy did
I submit myself the next day to the hands of my
worthy parent, while he again invested me with my
wonted complement of irons. With what anxiety,
too, did I watch for weeks, searching diligently my
ankles for the first symptoms of the contagion, fearing
I might unwittingly have rubbed against the
infected man and become inoculated with his loathsome
disease. Happily I escaped without accident.”</p>

<p>This horrible imprisonment was protracted into
the sultry months of March and April, and the
wretched sufferers were left throughout heavily
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span>
laden with five pairs of fetters in a gloomy filthy
dungeon, without air or light, or even water to wash
their fevered bodies, constantly associated with the
worst felons and sharing their dreadful expectation
to be taken out and executed. Finally, as the relieving
army approached, they were removed from
Ava further into the country, and the scene changed
for the better as regards personal treatment. The
prisoners had at least fresh air, freedom from vermin,
lighter chains, water to wash in, exercise in
the yard when their wounded feet were sufficiently
healed to allow them to walk, and as much comfort
as possible in a Burmese prison. But fresh
terrors were caused by the importation of a huge
lioness into the prison enclosure. It was confined
in a strong cage, but was kept in a state of constant
fury and grew more and more ferocious, being kept
continually without food. The luckless prisoners
began to believe that they were to be thrown as
a prey to the wild beast, but it grew visibly weaker
and weaker and presently died of starvation. The
reason for shutting up the lioness with the human
victims of the terrified king was never explained.
Meanwhile the British troops pressed on and threatened
shortly to capture the capital by storm. The
last and most terrible ordeal of all was now impending.
It was openly announced that the white prisoners
were to be sacrificed to save the king by being
buried alive before the broken and dispirited Burmese
army. But another decisive battle intervened,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span>
the prisoners were hastily released from gaol and
carried to Ava, whence they were borne by water
to meet the British flotilla on its way up stream,
and the painful captivity was at an end.</p>

<p>The penal code of old Burmah in the pre-English
days was primitive and of ancient origin, being
based largely upon the laws first promulgated by
Menu. Trial by ordeal was a very general rule,
and many forms were similar to those obtaining
in other parts of the world. One was to plunge
a finger wrapped in a thin palm leaf into molten
tin; again, accused and accuser were immersed
under water and the case was won by the party
who could remain the longest time below. Or two
candles made of equal portions of wax, carefully
weighed, were lighted by the two litigants, and the
one which burned longest was adjudged to have
won.</p>

<p>“In the Indies,” says one old authority, “when
one man accuses another of a crime punishable by
death, it is customary to ask the accused if he is
willing to go through trial by fire, and if he answers
in the affirmative, they heat a piece of iron
till it is red hot; then he is told to put his hand on
the hot iron, and his hand is afterward wrapped up
in a bay leaf, and if at the end of three days he has
suffered no hurt he is declared innocent and delivered
from the punishment which threatened him.
Sometimes they boil water in a cauldron till it is so
hot no one may approach it; then an iron ring is
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span>
thrown into it and the person accused is ordered
to thrust in his hand and bring up the ring, and if
he does so without injury he is declared innocent.
Sometimes an iron chain or ball is used instead of
the ring. Sometimes a vessel of oil is heated, and
a cocoanut is thrown in to test the temperature, and
if it cracks, then the suspected person may prove
his innocence by taking copper coins out of the boiling
oil.” Another ordeal was to take the accused
to the tomb of a Mohammedan saint and walk past,
having first loaded him with heavy fetters. If the
fetters fall off, he is declared to be clear. “I have
heard it said,” is the comment of one authority who
had little confidence in the good faith of the tribunal,
“that by some artful contrivance the fetters are so
applied as to fall off at a particular juncture.”</p>

<p>The rich expiated any offence by the payment of
a fine, while the impecunious suffered imprisonment,
stripes with a rattan, mutilation, endless slavery,
and in the extreme case, death. The sentence to
slavery extended to all a man’s belongings and to
his descendants forever. Capital punishment was
performed by decapitation, and a fiendish executioner
often prolonged the agony of the condemned
convict. To throw a victim to be devoured by wild
beasts or trodden to death by elephants was a practice
only surrendered in recent times. In the northern
provinces crucifixion was common, but the instrument
was not in the shape of an ordinary cross.
It was more like a double ladder consisting of three
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span>
upright bamboos crossed by three horizontal bars,
and upon these two more were laid in the shape of
a St. Andrew’s cross. Three scaffolds were commonly
erected on river banks or on sand banks in
the stream, and were constantly seen on the Irrawady.
Sometimes the culprit was killed before he
was affixed to the cross; sometimes he was tied up
and rendered helpless by a few spear thrusts, or disembowelled
by a sword cut across the stomach. In
any case, the body was left suspended until the flesh
was pecked off by vultures and the bones fell off by
decay. When the mouths of the Irrawady were
Burmese territory, the criminal was lashed to a tree
stump at low water and left to be drowned by the
incoming tide. The fishes, more voracious than the
vultures, were often more expeditious than the sea
and ate their prey alive. The tree, one of the undeveloped
growth in the mangrove swamps, was familiarly
known as the “stump of hell.”</p>

<p>Imprisonment, as we have seen from the previous
pages, was often worse than death. But there
might be some relaxation of durance. With money
a prisoner might appease his gaolers. He could by
payment secure release daily to go home, eat his
meals and pass his time in comfortable idleness, provided
he came punctually back at night and allowed
himself to be again incarcerated. Nevertheless, the
friendless and impecunious preferred to suffer a
public flogging, inflicted on the culprit at all the
street corners. Bribery and corruption, buying ease
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span>
from dishonest gaolers, speedily disappeared under
the British rule. An equable uniform system has
been adopted for all prisoners, and the demeanour
of even the worst is outwardly quiet. They are for
the most part irreclaimable gaol-birds, with all the
traits and characteristics of the congenital criminal.</p>

<p>The predatory instinct predominates in the character
of the Burman. He is consumed with a desire
to lay violent hands upon his neighbours’ goods
and possessions. He is a Dacoit, a thief and highwayman
by inheritance. One who knew Burmah
intimately was convinced that the evil propensity
was inborn in every Burmese child, and was stimulated
as he grew up by Dacoit stories. The example
of others who had taken to the business and become
famous for enterprising raids, was always before
the youth of every generation. It was no disgrace
to a young fellow to be concerned in a Dacoity attack
upon a neighbouring village, but very much
the reverse, and the most successful robbers were
generally treated with much consideration and respect.</p>

<p>A Dacoit band for the most part numbered five
or six; they were not all armed with firearms, but
they fired a few shots on making a descent to give
warning of their approach, and no resistance was
offered as they swooped down with loud shouts and
much waving of swords. Ransom was demanded
or the village, if deserted, was looted, and the Dacoits
fled before the outrage became known to the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span>
police. Then pursuit was organised, but was generally
fruitless. The Dacoits were close at hand, in
the very village, and might be easily seized, but no
one would give information, as that would be
deemed an unpardonable offence. To betray an
offender into the hands of justice is a sin against
religion much more than against morality. There
is the utmost difficulty, therefore, in tracing crime
in Burmah. British police officers were driven to
death in ceaseless efforts to catch Dacoits, hunting
them perpetually for months and months and seldom,
if ever, laying hands on a single offender.</p>

<p>Summary vengeance was meted out to “informers.”
On one occasion, a well-to-do villager in
Lower Burmah had assisted in the capture of a notorious
Dacoit. Some of the prisoner’s friends,
without waiting for the issue of the trial, visited
the traitor’s house and upbraided him with being
the cause of the Dacoit’s apprehension. “We mean
to punish you for this,” they said. “You shall be
burned alive; which do you prefer, that the fire
should be lighted here in your own house, or outside
the village?” His wife offered a thousand rupees
to buy him off, but it was sternly refused, and he
was forthwith put to death. In another instance, a
man who received a reward for securing the arrest
of a band was obliged to surrender the money to
other Dacoits, who called him to account, and to prevent
his repeating the offence, his head was cut off
and exhibited on a pole.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span></p>

<p>Dacoity, when the complete pacification of Burmah
was so long delayed, became the last form of
resistance of the people. The one time thieves were
promoted into rebels and insurgents. The Burmese
did not all accept British rule very willingly, and the
government resolved to finally crush opposition by
exterminating the dissidents under the name of
Dacoity. Many serious encounters, costly in human
life, were fought; many leaders of small bands long
evaded pursuit and gave much trouble. But vigorous
measures persistently carried out gradually put
down all opposition, and the most active Dacoits
ended on the gallows or found their way to prison
or to the penal settlements. A good picture has
been preserved of one prominent Dacoit who had
long ravaged the country and been guilty of many
crimes; and upon whom a sentence of penal servitude
for life was at length passed. “A small, spare,
thin-visaged man, whose features have nothing in
them that would bear out his character of a cruel
ruffian and leader of men ... yet such was the
power of his name that a sum large enough to be a
fortune to any three natives was offered to whoever
should kill or capture him, before his career was
checked.” Every gaol in Burmah has its complement
of such life convicts, reckless desperadoes, a
source of constant anxiety to those in charge of
them.</p>

<p>To follow this man on his reception and through
his treatment will give a good idea of prison life
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span>
in Burmah. His clothing was first issued to him; a
loin cloth of coarse brown stuff and a strip of sacking
to serve as his bed. His hair was close cut and
his head was as smooth as the palm of his hand, save
for one small tuft left on the crown; his name was
registered in the great book, and he was led to the
blacksmith’s shop, where his leg irons were riveted
on him, anklets in the form of a heavy ring to which
a connecting ring with two straight iron bars was
attached. At the same time a neck ring of iron as
thick as a lead pencil was welded on, with a plate
attached, nine inches by five, on which a paper recording
the personal description of the individual
was pasted. This was called the <i>thimbone</i>, and its
adoption became necessary through the frauds practised
by the convicts.</p>

<p>At one time every new arrival was given a tin
medal stamped with his number, which was hung
round his neck with a string. But it was found
that these records were frequently exchanged among
the prisoners. A prisoner sentenced to a long term
often assumed the identity of a short term convict,
who accepted the more irksome penalty for a money
consideration. At the present time, with the irremovable
<i>thimbone</i>, these exchanges are rendered impossible.
It is strange that such a simple process
of preserving identities is not enforced in Siberia,
where Russian convicts have long made a practice
of fraudulent exchanges.</p>

<p>“If there is a type of revolting human ugliness,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span>
it is the Burmese gaol-bird,” says the same authority,
“with his shaven head and the unmistakable
stamp of criminal on his vicious face. All convicts
seem to acquire that look of low, half-defiant cunning
from their associates, and a physiognomist
would not hesitate to describe nine-tenths of the
men before us as bad characters if he saw them in
any society. Many of this gang are Dacoits, and
their breasts, arms and necks are picture galleries
of tattooed devices, fondly cherished by the owners
as charms against death or capture. Some have
rows of unsightly warts, like large peas, upon the
breast and arms which mark the spots where the
charms have been inserted,&mdash;scraps of metal and
other substances inscribed with spells known only
to the wise men who deal in such things. One or
two natives of India are amongst the gang, and
these are conspicuous by the absence of the tattooing
universally found on the Burman’s thighs. A powerfully
built convict at the end of the rank, in addition
to the usual irons, has his ankle rings connected
by a single straight bar, so that he can only stand
with his feet twelve inches apart. ‘Look at that
fellow,’ says the superintendent; ‘he is in for five
years, and his time would have been up in three
months. A week ago he was down at the creek
with his gang working timber, and must needs try
to escape. He was up to his waist in water and
dived under a raft, coming to the surface a good
fifty yards down the stream. The guard never
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span>
missed him until a shout from another man drew
their attention, when they saw him swimming as
hard as he could go, irons and all, towards a patch
of jungle on the opposite side.’ Amongst a repulsive
horde this man would take first place without
competition. ‘Reckless scoundrel,’ is written on
every line of his scowling face, and such he undoubtedly
is. After the severe flogging his attempted
escape earned for him, he assaulted and bit
his guards and fellow prisoners, and the bar between
his anklets was the immediate result.</p>

<p>“Conspiracies to break out are not uncommon,
although they are seldom matured, owing to the
system of never allowing one batch of men to remain
together for more than a night or two in succession.
A determined attempt to ‘break gaol’ took
place in the great central prison at Rangoon a few
years ago, resulting in a stand-up fight between
warders and convicts. Some twenty ‘lifers’ confined
in a large stone cell, whose gate opened upon
their workyard, were the culprits. The hammers
and road metal which provided their daily labour
were kept in this yard, and the first aim of the convicts
was to obtain access to the shed where these
weapons lay. About midnight the attention of the
sentry was called to the illness of one of the occupants
of the cell by another man, who was apparently
the only wakeful member of the gang besides
the sham invalid. A Madrassee apothecary was
called to the grated window of the den, and obtained
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span>
sufficient information to enable him to prepare
some remedy. On his return with the potion,
seeing that all the convicts were sound asleep, he
did not attempt to give the medicine to the sick
man through the window, but against the rules
caused the guard to open the gate intending to take
it into the cell himself. The instant the gate was
opened, the slumbering convicts sprang to their feet,
rushed at the apothecary and knocked him down in
such a position that his recumbent form effectually
prevented the guard behind from closing it. They
quickly made their way into the workshed, and arming
themselves with hammers and stones, prepared
to resist the warders who had been attracted by the
noise and the shouts of a sentry on the wall. A
furious conflict now ensued between the warders,
big, muscular Punjabees armed with heavy cudgels,
and the convicts with their extemporised
weapons. The warders were reinforced until both
parties were fairly matched, and the rough and
tumble fight in the dark progressed amid extraordinary
confusion. The workyard was overlooked
by two huge wings of the gaol in which a large number
of prisoners were confined; these men, roused
to a frantic pitch of excitement by the uproar below,
dashed about their wards like caged animals with
screams and yells of encouragement to their fellows;
while the sentries in the watch towers on the main
wall kept up a desultory fire in the air to prove to
the convicts the impossibility of escaping, even if
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span>
they should succeed in scaling the high spiked iron
railing of their yard.</p>

<p>“The combatants fought hand-to-hand for some
time, neither side gaining any advantage, whilst
above the roar of human voices and the sickening
crash of heavy clubs on the convicts’ shaven skulls
the alarm bell clashed out warning that military
assistance from the distant barracks was required.
Warders had been summoned from all parts of the
gaol, and a general outbreak seemed imminent when
the appearance of the superintendent with a revolver
suddenly decided matters. Panic seized the
convicts; they dropped their weapons with one
accord and crowded back into the cell, leaving two
of their number dead in the yard. It would be impossible
to conceive a more ghastly sight than that
row of naked, trembling convicts as the warders
now ranged them in the vault-like den to be counted.
The dim light of oil-lanterns fell upon upturned
faces, before repulsive enough, but now positively
startling in their hideous disfigurement of dust and
clotting blood. Every man was streaming with
blood from wounds about the head, more or less
severe, for the convicts had fought with the desperation
of men to whom success meant liberty. They
were doomed to drag out their lives in that earthly
hell; a flogging was the worst that could happen
to them if their attempt failed, possible freedom the
reward if it succeeded. Who would not risk the
first for the slenderest chance of the second? They
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span>
took the risk and fate had gone against them. The
excitement was over, and they huddled together
against the wall of the cell in an agony of fear for
the consequences their night’s work would bring
upon them to-morrow, staring enviously at those
whose wounds necessitated their removal to hospital.
For them, at least, a few days’ reprieve was
certain before they suffered lash and punishment
drill.”
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span></p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span></p>

<p class="ph1">PRISONS OF CHINA</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br />

<span class="medium">CRIME IN CHINA</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Great cruelty in the administration of the law in China&mdash;Experience
of Lord Loch&mdash;Iron collar, chains and creeping
vermin&mdash;Earth maggot&mdash;The “Ling che,” a slow ignominious
death&mdash;Internal arrangement of prisons&mdash;Whole
families detained as hostages for fugitive offenders&mdash;Mortality
large; dead-house always full&mdash;Military
guard&mdash;Public flogging of thieves&mdash;The “Cangue” or
heavy wooden collar&mdash;Six classes of punishment&mdash;Method
of infliction&mdash;Chinese punishment in the seventeenth century&mdash;Some
cruel practices of to-day.</p>

<p>According to Chinese law, theoretically, no
prisoner is punished until he confesses his crime.
He is therefore proved guilty and then by torture
made to acknowledge the accuracy of the verdict.
The cruelty shown to witnesses as well as culprits
is a distinct blot on the administration of justice in
China. The penal code is ferocious, the punishments
inflicted are fiendishly cruel, and the prisons’
pig-stys in which torture is hardly more deadly
than the diseases engendered by the most abominable
neglect. The commonest notions of justice and
fair play are continually ignored. The story is told
of a wretched old man who had been detained years
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span>
in the filthy prison of Peking, dragging out a weary
existence in the company of criminals of the worst
description. According to his own account, he had
been living on his land with his wife and family.
One night he took out his gun to scare crows and
trespassers off his ripening crops, in the execution
of which innocent design he let off his weapon two
or three times. On the following day a man was
found murdered on the far confines of his land.
Immediately he was apprehended, not as one might
suppose, to give evidence or relate what he knew,
but to be made to confess that he himself was the
author of the crime. To extort this confession he
was cruelly and repeatedly tortured. “Of course,”
he said, “I shall never leave this prison alive, for
they will keep me here until, reduced to the last
extremity by torture, I confess myself guilty of a
crime of which I am entirely innocent, and when
I do confess they will cut off my head on the
strength of that confession.” This is founded on
unimpeachable fact, and the case is constantly recurring
under different forms. “In China it is not
the prosecution who prove a prisoner guilty, but the
prisoner who has to prove that he is not guilty.”
In this same prison of Peking a visitor once was
permitted to enter a chamber in which was a barred
cage eight feet by eight, and in it twenty-six human
beings were incarcerated, of whom six were dying
of gaol fever. He asked that they might be taken
out of the cage “in order that he might medically
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span>
examine and if possible relieve them. The gaoler
opened the door of the cage and seizing the six
by their pig-tails, or by any other portion of their
bodies that happened to present itself, dragged them
out one by one over the pavement into the courtyard
outside. No doubt several of these men were innocent
of the crimes imputed to them and were waiting
to be tortured into a confession of guilt.”</p>

<p>Few Europeans have experienced imprisonment
in China. One Englishman, Lord Loch, has given
an account of the sufferings he endured when
treacherously captured during the war of 1860.
“The discipline of the prison was not in itself very
strict and had it not been for the starvation, the pain
arising from the cramped position in which the
chains and ropes retained the arms and legs, with
the heavy drag of the iron collar on the bones of
the spine, and the creeping vermin that infested
every place, together with the occasional beatings
and tortures which the prisoners were from time to
time taken away for a few hours to endure, returning
with bleeding legs and bodies and so weak as to
be scarcely able to crawl, there was no very great
hardship to be endured.... There was a small
maggot which appears to infest all Chinese prisons:
the earth at a depth of a few inches swarms with
them; they are the scourge most dreaded by every
poor prisoner. Few enter a Chinese prison who
have not on their bodies or limbs some wounds,
either inflicted by blows to which they have been
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span>
subjected, or caused by the manner in which they
have been bound; the instinct of the insect to which
I allude appears to lead them direct to these wounds.
Bound and helpless, the poor wretch cannot save
himself from their approach, although he knows
full well that if they once succeed in reaching his
lacerated skin, there is the certainty of a fearful
lingering and agonising death before him.”</p>

<p>Punishment varies in cruelty and intensity with
the crime; for the murder of a father, mother, or
several people of one family the sentence is “ignominious
and slow death.” This method is known
as <i>ling che</i>, and the victim is attached to a post and
cut to pieces by slow degrees, the pieces being
thrown about among the crowd. This cruel death
was more than once publicly inflicted in Peking during
the year 1903. Some of the most horrible passages
in the <i>Peking Gazette</i> are those which announce
the infliction of this awful punishment on
madmen and idiots who in sudden outbreaks of
mania have committed parricide. For this offence
no infirmity is accepted, even as a palliation. A
culprit condemned to <i>ling che</i> is tied to a cross, and
while he is yet alive gashes are made by the executioner
on the fleshy parts of his body, varying in
number according to the disposition of the judge.
When this part of the sentence has been carried out,
a merciful blow severs the head from the body.
It is said that the executioner can be bribed to put
sufficient opium into the victim’s last meal to make
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span>
him practically unconscious, or even to inflict the
fatal stab in the heart at first, which should ordinarily
be the last. Common cases of capital punishment
are comparatively merciful, for the executioners
are so skilful that they generally sever the head
from the trunk with one swift blow. The Chinese
prefer death by strangulation to any other form,
because it enables the body to appear unmutilated
in the next world. This feeling has such a hold on
them that when four victims were decapitated in
Peking, their relatives instantly claimed the bodies
and sewed on the heads. The permission to do this
was regarded by them as a great privilege and a
mitigation of the sentence.</p>

<p>The prisons of China are made up of a certain
number of wards according to their class. Thus,
for example, the prisons of the respective counties
of Nam-hoi and Pun-yu in the province of Kwang-tung,
which are first-class county prisons, consist
(besides chambers in which prisoners on remand
are confined) of six large wards in each of which
are four large cells, making in all twenty-four cells.
The same arrangements may be said to prevail in
all county prisons. The walls of the various wards
abut one upon another and form a parallelogram.
Round the outer wall a paved pathway runs upon
which the gates of the various wards open. This
pathway is flanked by a large wall which constitutes
the boundary wall of the prison. The cells are of
considerable size. The four cells in each ward are
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span>
arranged two on a side so as to form the two sides
of a square, and they much resemble cattle sheds,
the front of each being enclosed in a strong palisading
of wood which extends from the ground to the
roof. They are paved with granite, and each is furnished
with a raised wooden platform on which the
prisoners sit by day and sleep by night. They are
polluted with vermin and filth of almost every kind,
and the prisoners seldom or never have an opportunity
afforded them of washing their bodies or
even dressing their hair, as water in Chinese prisons
is a scarce commodity and hair-combs are almost
unknown. The approach to the prison is a narrow
passage at the entrance of which there is an ordinary
sized door. Above this entrance door is
painted a tiger’s head with large staring eyes and
widely extended jaws. Upon entering, the visitor
finds an altar on which stands the figure of a tiger
hewn in granite. This image is regarded as the
tutelary deity of the prison gates. The turnkeys
worship it morning and evening, with the view of
propitiating it and securing its watchfulness, gaolers
in China being held responsible for the safe custody
of the miserable beings who are entrusted to their
care. At the base of the large wall which forms
the prison boundary there are several hovels&mdash;for
by no other name can they be designated&mdash;in some
of which all the female felons are lodged and in
others whole families who are held as witnesses by
the mandarins.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span></p>

<p>There is a law which admits of the seizure and
detention as hostages of entire families, any members
of which have broken the laws of the empire
and fled from justice. Such hostages are not liberated
until the offending relatives have been secured,
and consequently they are not unfrequently imprisoned
during a period of five, ten or twenty
years. Indeed, many of them pass the period of
their natural lives in captivity. Thus the mother or
aunt of Hung Sow-tsuen, the leader of the Taiping
rebellion, died after an imprisonment of several
years in the prison of the Nam-hoi magistrate at
Canton. The unoffending old woman grievously
felt this long detention for no crime or offence of
her own. Should the crime of the fugitive be a
very aggravated and serious one, such, for example,
as an attempt upon the life of the sovereign of the
empire, it is not unusual to put the immediate, although
perfectly innocent, relations of the offender
to death, while those who are not so nearly related
to him are sent into exile. In 1803 an attempt was
made to assassinate the emperor Ka-hing. The
assassin was no sooner apprehended than he was
sentenced to be put to death by torture; and his
sons who were young children were put to death by
strangling. The mortality in Chinese prisons is
very great. The bodies of all who die in prison are
thrown into the dead-house and remain there until
the necessary preliminaries, which are of a very
simple kind, have been arranged for their interment.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span>
In the prisons of Canton these receptacles may be
seen full of corpses and presenting the most revolting
and disgusting appearance. Some of the unhappy
victims have died from the effects of severe
and often repeated floggings. Others have fallen
victims to one or other of the various diseases which
such dens are only too well fitted to create and foster.
In the prison of Pun-yu there were on one
occasion in the dead-house five bodies, all with the
appearance of death from starvation&mdash;a form of
capital punishment which in China is frequently inflicted
upon kidnappers and other grave offenders.
Directly in front of the door of the dead-house and
at the base of the outer boundary wall of the prison
there is a small door of sufficient size to admit of
a corpse being passed through. The corpses of all
who die in prison are carried through this aperture
into the adjoining street for burial. It would be
paying too much reverence to the deceased prisoner
to allow the remains to be carried through the gates
of the <i>yamun</i> to which the prison is attached.</p>

<p>In point of appearance the unfortunate inmates
of Chinese prisons are perhaps of all men the most
abject and miserable. Their death-like countenances,
emaciated forms and long coarse black hair,
which, according to prison rules, they are not allowed
to shave, give them the appearance rather
of demons than of men, and strike the mind of the
beholder with impressions of gloom and sorrow that
are not easily forgotten. Prisoners in every ward
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span>
with one exception only wear fetters. The exception
is the prisoner who is supposed to be more respectable
and who conducts himself better than any
of his fellows in crime. He is allowed the full
freedom of his limbs and as a mark of confidence
and trust the privilege is conferred upon him of
acting as overseer and guardian of his comrades.
The dress worn by Chinese prisoners consists of a
coat and trousers of a coarse red fabric. On the
back of the coat is printed in large indelible characters
the name of the prison in which its wearer is
confined so that should he escape from durance he
would at once be recognised as a runaway or prison
breaker, and his recapture facilitated. Each prison
is presided over by a governor who has under him
a considerable number of turnkeys. Thus each large
prison in Canton has a governor, twenty-four turnkeys,
thirty-seven watchmen and fifteen spearmen.
In a barrack beyond the doors or gates of each
prison is a resident guard of soldiers. The turnkeys,
watchmen, spearmen, and so forth, become
the most casehardened and incorrigible of the criminals
from the great amount of misery which they
daily witness. The policemen who are attached to
the <i>yamun</i> are also men of vile character, and it is
unfortunately too common for them to share the
booty with the thief and hoodwink or deceive the
magistrate.</p>

<p>The governor of a Chinese prison purchases his
appointment from the local government. He receives
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span>
no salary from the state and is compelled,
therefore, to recoup himself by exacting money
from such relatives or friends of prisoners as are
in good circumstances and naturally anxious that
their unhappy friends should escape as far as possible
the sad deprivations and cruelties for which
Chinese prisons are so notorious. To each prison
a granary is attached in which rice of the cheapest
and coarsest kind is stored by the governor. This
rice is one of his perquisites, and he retails it to the
prisoners at a remunerative price. Vegetables and
firewood for culinary purposes, both of which are
daily offered for sale to the prisoners, are also supplied
by him. As the government daily allowance
to each prisoner does not exceed twenty-five <i>cash</i>,
the prisoners who are without friends are not often
able to buy even vegetables and firewood.</p>

<p>Besides the prison in which convicts are confined
there is also within the precincts of the <i>yamun</i> a
house of detention. This is neither so large nor
so strongly enclosed as the common gaol. Generally,
in such a house of detention there is a large
chamber which is set apart for the reception of
prisoners on remand, who have friends able and
willing to satisfy the demands of the governor. By
this arrangement such prisoners avoid the misery
of being shut up in the same ward with men of the
vilest character and often most loathsome condition,
covered with filth or suffering from various kinds
of cutaneous diseases. The arrangement is a great
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span>
advantage to the governor of the gaol and to all
prisoners who can afford to pay for it, but a great
disadvantage to other inmates. The space required
for the convenience of prisoners who have friends
to look after their wants leaves very little room indeed
for the reception of the great majority of the
poorer criminals, who are huddled together in a
common ward sometimes too crowded to allow its
occupants to lie down. In the city of Canton, on the
streets adjoining the <i>yamuns</i>, there are other houses
of detention, all densely crowded.</p>

<p>Imprisonment is not the only penalty inflicted;
cases of petty larceny are generally dealt with by
flogging. The culprit is handcuffed and with the
identical article which he stole, or one similar, suspended
from his neck, is marched through the
streets of the neighbourhood in which the theft was
committed. He is preceded by a man beating a
gong, and at each beat of the gong an officer who
walks behind gives him a severe blow with a double
rattan across the shoulders, exclaiming, “This is
the punishment due to a thief.” As the culprit has
to pass through three or four streets his punishment,
although regarded by the Chinese as a minor
one, is certainly not lacking in severity, and
is often accompanied by a considerable flow of
blood.</p>

<p>A thief who had stolen a watch from one of his
countrymen was flogged through the Honam suburb
of Canton, but the officer appointed to flog him
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span>
was very corpulent, and from his great earnestness
in the discharge of his duty became quite breathless
before the various streets along which the culprit
was sentenced to pass had been fully traversed.
The person from whom the watch had been stolen,
seeing that the thief might escape the full severity
of his penalty, snatched the double rattan from the
hand of the exhausted officer and applied it himself
most unmercifully to the thief’s back. Women who
are convicted of thieving are in some instances punished
in this way. Occasionally a long bamboo is
used in cases of petty larceny. When this is the
case, however, the culprit receives his flogging in
court in front of the tribunal. He is at once denuded
of his trousers and the number of blows
varies according to the nature of the larceny, from
ten to three hundred.</p>

<p>Mr. Henry Norman, who witnessed a most cruel
flogging in court, which left the prisoner in a pitiable
state, asserts that when a policeman was called
to suffer the same punishment, it was seen that he
had bound strips of wood on himself to catch the
full force of the bamboo. The prescribed number
of strokes were administered, but the fraud was
plainly apparent to the magistrate and all the spectators,
and the policeman, who was none the worse
for the flogging, went about his duties as usual
when the ordeal was over. Spectacles of this kind,
says the same authority, seem to be highly enjoyed
by a Chinese audience.</p>


<p class="caption"><i>Chinese Punishment</i></p>

<blockquote>

<p>The <i>cangue</i>, or square and heavy wooden collar, is one
of the modes by which petty offenders are punished in China.
The weight varies with the offence, and they are worn from
a fortnight to three months, during which time the <i>cangue</i>
is not removed by day or night. This device inflicts severe
punishment, preventing the culprit from assuming any position
of rest. The name of the prisoner and the nature of
his offence are written on the <i>cangue</i> in large letters, so that
“he who runs may read,” and he is often made to stand at
one of the principal gates or in some other conspicuous place
as an object of universal contempt.</p></blockquote>

<p class="figcenter">
<img id="i217" src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:a:arthur-griffiths-oriental-prisons-i217.jpg" alt="" />
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span></p>

<p>The <i>cangue</i>, or square, heavy wooden collar, is
another mode by which petty offenders in China are
punished. <i>Cangues</i> vary in weight, some being
considerably larger and heavier than others. The
period for which an offender is sentenced to wear
this collar varies from a fortnight to three months.
During the whole of this time the <i>cangue</i> is not removed
from the neck of the prisoner either by day
or by night. Its form prevents the wearer from
stretching himself on the ground at full length, and
to judge from the attenuated appearance of prisoners
who have undergone it, the punishment must be
terribly severe. The name of the lawbreaker and
the nature of his offence are written on the <i>cangue</i>
in large letters, “so that all the world may read.”
The authorities often make the victim stand from
sunrise to sunset at one of the principal gates or in
front of one of the chief temples or public halls of
the city, where he is regarded as an object of universal
scorn and contempt.</p>

<p>Another mode of punishing a criminal is that of
confining him in a cage. The cages are of different
forms, the worst being too short to allow the
occupants to place themselves in a recumbent position
and too low to admit of their standing. To
the top of one kind is attached a wooden collar or
<i>cangue</i> by which the neck of the criminal, which it
is made to fit, is firmly held. Another cage resembles
the former in all respects but one. The
difference consists in its being higher than its occupant,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span>
so that while his neck is held fast by the
wooden collar attached to the top of the cage, the
tips of his toes barely touch the floor. Indeed, the
floor, which is only a few inches from the ground,
is sometimes removed so that the prisoner may be
suspended by the neck. This punishment almost
invariably proves fatal. The victims are as a rule
thieves and robbers. They are often punished by
being bound to stones by means of long chains
passed round their necks. The stones are not large,
but sufficiently heavy to inconvenience them as they
walk to and from the prison to the entrance gates
of the <i>yamun</i>, in front of which they are daily exposed.
These stones are their inseparable companions
by night and by day throughout the whole
period of their incarceration. In some instances
they are bound to long bars of iron and are daily
exposed to the scorn of all passers by.</p>

<p>For capital and other offences of a serious nature
there are six classes of punishment. The first,
called <i>ling che</i>, has already been mentioned. It is
inflicted upon traitors, parricides, matricides, fratricides
and murderers of husbands, uncles and tutors.
The criminal is cut into either one hundred and
twenty, seventy-two, thirty-six or twenty-four
pieces. Should there be extenuating circumstances,
his body, as a mark of imperial clemency, is divided
into eight portions only. The punishment of
twenty-four cuts is inflicted as follows: the first and
second cuts remove the eyebrows; the third and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span>
fourth the shoulders; the fifth and sixth the breasts;
the seventh and eighth the parts between each hand
and elbow; the ninth and tenth the parts between
each elbow and shoulder; the eleventh and twelfth
the flesh of each thigh; the thirteenth and fourteenth
the calf of each leg; the fifteenth pierces the
heart; the sixteenth severs the head from the body;
the seventeenth and eighteenth cut off the hands;
the nineteenth and twentieth the arms; the twenty-first
and twenty-second the feet; the twenty-third
and twenty-fourth the legs. That of eight cuts is
inflicted as follows; the first and second cuts remove
the eyebrows; the third and fourth the shoulders;
the fifth and sixth the breasts; the seventh pierces
the heart; the eighth severs the head from the body.
A great many political offenders underwent executions
of the first class at Canton during the vice-royalty
of His Excellency, Yeh. On the fourteenth
day of December, 1864, the famous Hakka rebel
leader, Tai Chee-kwei by name, was put to death at
Canton in the same manner.</p>

<p>The second class of capital punishment, which is
called <i>chan</i> or decapitation, is the penalty due to
murderers, rebels, pirates, burglars, etc. Prisoners
who are sentenced to decapitation are kept in ignorance
of the hour fixed for their execution until the
preceding day. Occasionally they have only a few
hours’ and in some instances only a few minutes’
warning. When the time has arrived for making
the condemned man ready for execution, an officer
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span>
in full costume, carrying in his hand a board on
which is pasted a list of the names of the prisoners
who are that day to atone for their crimes, enters
the prison, and in the hearing of all the prisoners
assembled in the ward, reads aloud the list of the
condemned. Each prisoner whose name is called at
once answers to it, and he is then made to sit in a
basket to be carried once more into the presence of
a judge. As he is taken through the outer gate,
he is interrogated through an interpreter by an official
who acts on the occasion as the viceroy’s representative.</p>

<p>Mr. Henry Norman described in 1895 an execution
of fifteen offenders of this class which he had
witnessed. The condemned were carried into the
place of execution in flat baskets suspended from
bamboo poles, and literally dumped out, bound hand
and foot. A slip of paper was stuck in the queue
of each condemned man, which described the nature
of the crime. These were taken out and stacked
up by one of the executioners, and then the work
of severing the heads began, one of the executioners
holding the victim’s shoulders while the other used
the knife. All of those about to be beheaded witnessed
the decapitation of their comrades, and the
spectators yelled with delight and frenzy. When
the last head had been severed, the place was ankle-deep
in blood and the executioner, who used the
knife, was covered with it. The bodies were thrown
into a pond and the heads were put in earthenware
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span>
jars and stacked up with others surrounding this
potter’s field.</p>

<p>A third punishment is called <i>nam-kow</i>, or death
by strangulation. This is inflicted on kidnappers
and all thieves who with violence steal articles the
value of which amounts to five hundred dollars and
upward. The manner in which this form of capital
punishment is inflicted is as follows:&mdash;A cross is
erected in the centre of the execution ground, at the
foot of which a stone is placed, and upon this the
prisoner stands. His body is made fast to the perpendicular
beam of the cross by a band passing
round the waist, while his arms are bound to the
transverse beam. The executioner then places
round the neck of the prisoner a thin but strong
piece of twine, which he tightens to the utmost and
then ties in a firm knot round the upper part of the
perpendicular beam. Death by this cruel process
is very slow and is apparently attended with extreme
agony. The body remains on the cross during a
period of twenty-four hours, the sheriff before leaving
the execution ground taking care to attach his
seal to the knot of the twine which passes round
the neck of the malefactor.</p>

<p>The fourth class of punishment is called <i>man-kwan</i>,
or transportation for life. The criminals who
are thus punished are embezzlers, forgers, etc. The
places of banishment in the north of China and
Tartary are named respectively Hack-loong-kong,
Elee Ning-koo-tap and Oloo-muk-tsze. All convicts
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span>
from the midland and southern provinces are
sent to one or the other of these places, where the
unhappy men are employed in a great measure according
to their former circumstances of life.
Those who are of a robust nature and who have
been accustomed to agricultural pursuits are daily
occupied in reclaiming and cultivating waste lands.
Others, more especially those who have been sent
from the southern provinces, where the heat in summer
is almost tropical, are, in consequence of the
severity of the cold which prevails in northern latitudes,
made to work in government iron foundries.
The aged and those who have not been accustomed
to manual labour are daily employed in sweeping
the state temples and other public buildings.</p>

<p>The fifth class of punishment is termed <i>man-low</i>,
or transportation for ten or fifteen years. The criminals
of this class are petty burglars and persons
who harbour those who have broken the laws. Such
offenders are generally sent to the midland provinces
of the empire, where the arrangements for
convict labour are similar to those of the penal settlements
of the north. Convicts of this class who
are natives of the midland provinces are sent either
to the eastern, western or southern provinces of the
empire. The barbarous practice of tattooing the
cheeks is also resorted to with these prisoners. The
sixth class is called <i>man-tow</i>, or transportation for
three years. A punishment of this nature is the portion
of gamblers, salt smugglers, etc. A convict of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span>
this class is transported to one of the provinces immediately
bordering upon that of which he is a native
or in which his crime was committed.</p>

<p>Oppression by the ruling class was always rife in
China, and instances might be multiplied recording
the cruel misusage of inferiors by the mandarins.
One case in which ample vengeance was exacted by
the aggrieved victim may be quoted here. The story
is told by Lady Susan Townley in her “Chinese
Note Book.”</p>

<p>“A well-to-do farmer called Chiang-lo lived happily
on his estate with a pretty wife whom he loved,
until one day, as ill luck would have it, a rich Mandarin
passed that way, who, seeing the fair dame,
straightway desired her. Anxious to get rid of the
husband by fair means or foul, he trumped up a
charge against him, and the farmer was condemned
‘to be a slave to a soldier,’ which meant that he
would be marched in heavy chains from Peking to
the northern frontier of China, cruelly beaten at
every station (they occur about every eighteen
miles), and ill-treated at will by the soldier in charge
of him. This sentence is usually equivalent to
death, for few can survive the hardships of such a
journey, the fatigue, heat, cold, hunger and torture.
But our friend with hatred in his heart resolved to
live in order to be revenged upon his enemy. So
he bore all his sufferings with superhuman courage,
and finally arrived at his destination on the frontier,
where he was put to work in a mine.” After he
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span>
had been there about three years His Majesty
Kwang Hsu assumed the reins of government, and
accorded a general pardon to all criminals. Thus
in a night Chiang-lo recovered his freedom, and
without a moment’s hesitation set off to trudge back
to Peking. “This time there was hope in his heart
for he meant to kill his enemy and the wife who had
betrayed him. When he saw her again, however,
all his old love for her returned and though she
refused to go with him, and though he knew that
if he killed them both, Chinese law would account
him guiltless, whereas if he killed her lover and
spared her, he would be considered guilty of murder,
and would have to bear the penalty, he did not
hesitate one moment, but left her and went to find
her seducer.</p>

<p>“For days he tracked him about the town, waiting
for a favourable opportunity. At last it came,
as his rival passed him in the deep embrasure of the
Chien-men gate. Springing from his place of concealment
he challenged him to fight, but the coward
refused. Then Chiang-lo ... drew his knife and
repeatedly stabbed him in the heart. When he saw
his enemy lying dead at his feet, the apathy of despair
fell upon him. Wiping his knife on his sleeve
he bowed his head, and turning his steps to the nearest
police station calmly gave himself up. A few
weeks later he was beheaded.”</p>

<p>It is interesting to read that the prevailing
method of punishment in China in the seventeenth
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span>
century differed little from that in force at a very
recent date. In the memoirs of the Jesuit Louis le
Comte, published in 1698, he says: “They have
several ways of inflicting death. Mean and ignoble
persons have their heads cut off, for in China the
separation of the head from the body is disgraceful.
On the contrary, persons of quality are strangled,
which among them is a death of more credit....
Rebels and traitors are punished with the utmost
severity; that is, to speak as they do, they cut them
into ten thousand pieces. For after that the executioner
hath tied them to a post, he cuts off the skin
all round their forehead which he tears by force till
it hangs over their eyes, that they may not see the
torments they are to endure. Afterwards he cuts
their bodies in what places he thinks fit, and when
he is tired of this barbarous employment, he leaves
them to the tyranny of their enemies and the insults
of the mob.”</p>

<p>Cruelty, which is one of the strongest characteristics
of the Chinese nature, manifests itself not only
in the application of criminal law, but with a peculiar
callousness they delight to torture dumb animals
and enjoy witnessing the sufferings of children and
adults of their own race. A common practice of the
professional kidnapper is to blind a child after stealing
it, and then carry it away to another town and
sell it for a professional beggar. Infant life is still
being destroyed by parents in some districts of
China, and the abominable custom is difficult to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span>
eradicate, as the children are simply abandoned and
left to starve, and if the crime is discovered it is
difficult to prove deliberate murder.</p>

<p>Cases have been known of Chinese boatmen refusing
to rescue persons who had thrown themselves
overboard from a sinking craft and were drowning,
unless they agreed to pay an exorbitant sum
asked as the price of rescue. They have even been
known to look on passively while their fellow-countrymen
were struggling for life in the water, without
raising a hand to help them.</p>

<p>It is but natural to expect that in a country where
such occurrences are common, the punishments inflicted
on the really guilty should exceed anything
known in the practices of the enlightened nations of
to-day.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span></p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span></p>

<p class="ph1">PRISONS OF JAPAN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br />

<span class="medium">ENLIGHTENED METHODS OF JAPAN</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Enlightened Japan has striven to establish a perfect prison
system&mdash;New prisons&mdash;Deportation to the island of Yezo&mdash;Agricultural
labour and work in coal mines&mdash;Two
fine prisons in Tokio&mdash;Description by Mr. Norman&mdash;The
gallows&mdash;Training school for prison officials&mdash;Disciplinary
punishments and rewards.</p>

<p>Japan as an enlightened and progressive country
has made strenuous efforts to establish “as perfect
a prison system as possible; one which is in harmony
with the advancement of science and the results
of experience.” These reforms were commenced
in 1871 and were continued in various new
prisons at Tokio, Kobold, Kiogo and upon the island
of Yezo, all admirably organised and maintained.
This movement was hurried on by the great overcrowding
of the small provincial prisons on account
of the accumulation of long-term prisoners. No
proper discipline could be applied and there was
absolutely no room for short-term offenders. Most
of those sentenced to hard labour and deportation
are now sent to the penal settlement on the island
of Yezo, where they are employed both within the
prisons and at agriculture in the open air. Every
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span>
advantage is taken of the natural aptitudes of the
Japanese, and the inmates of gaols prove the most
expert and artistic workmen. The very worst criminals
are sent to the prison of Sorachi in the remote
island of Yezo, beyond Poronaibuto&mdash;a bleak, desolate
spot surrounded by the usual bamboo fence&mdash;which
holds about sixteen hundred convicts. They
are to be seen squatted on mats at work, each in
front of his own sleeping place, and on a shelf above
are his wadded bed-quilt, with a mosquito curtain
on top of each. The place is so isolated and surrounded
by such an impenetrable jungle that escapes
are out of the question. A little further on is the
prison of Poronai, in a delightful spot, where the
most extensive coal fields of Japan are located. A
small building houses some six hundred convicts
who work in the coal seams on the side of the hill.
“Hard labour indeed,” says Mr. Wingfield.
“Heavily chained, by light of a safety lamp the
wretched convicts were crouching in holes where
there was no room to raise the head or stretch the
limbs, and here they had to remain for eighteen
hours at a time.” Their sentences were for twelve
years, although remission might by good conduct
be secured after seven. Yet these luckless Japanese
bore their irksome lot with a light heart. “As we
were leaving Poronai at 5 <small>A. M.</small>,” says the same
observer, “we met a batch of miners marching to
face their ordeal and many after the eighteen hours
are completed have to be removed to hospital. They
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span>
were clanking their chains right merrily, talking
and laughing loudly, bandying quips and jokes.”</p>

<p>Japan is a land of rapid transition and nothing
has changed more completely in recent years than
Japanese prisons. Still there was some system, even
in ancient days. The sexes were kept apart, the
penalty of the log worn round the neck and fastened
to the ankle was not imposed upon the aged or
juvenile offender, nor upon dwarfs, invalids or
pregnant women. In the sixteenth century a prison
reformer arose who organised five new prisons in
Yeddo for five different classes of prisoners, comprising
females and persons of different conditions
of life. Proper prison officers were appointed, and
security was obtained without despising sanitary
needs. Still there must have been much mutual
contamination, owing to the indiscriminate herding
together, and the maintenance of internal order was
left to the prisoners who chose among themselves
a <i>nanoushi</i>, or head, with eleven assistants to control
the whole body. Flogging was inflicted and
handcuffs were universally worn. In 1790 a house
of correction was established on the island of Yshikavoy
in the Bay of Yeddo, to which were committed
all vagabonds or incorrigible prisoners whom
it was thought unsafe to set free lest they should
relapse into crime. The work on this island was
chiefly the manufacture of oil. In cases of escape
and recapture the fugitives were branded with a
certain tattoo mark on the left arm.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span></p>

<p>Even in the middle of the nineteenth century the
same brutal methods of torture prevailed as in
China (from where their bloody codes were mostly
borrowed), and there are preserved collections of
instruments of torture as diabolical as any known
to history. Crime, too, was not lacking in those
“isles of the blest,” and every species of moral filth
and corruption abounded, which was shown in its
true colours when the liberty of the press was
granted, in 1872-1874. The number of executions
and deaths in the native prisons at that time was
said to average three thousand per annum.</p>

<p>The chief prison of the empire, in Tokio, as described
by Mr. William M. Griffis, who visited it in
1875, was very different in its sanitary appointments
and general condition from the prisons of Tokio
to-day. A curious feature was a small roofed in
structure in the prison yard, with open sides, where
condemned men of rank were allowed to expiate
their crimes by plunging the dirk into their own
bodies, after which the executioner cut off their
heads. The head, laid on a tray, was then inspected
by an officer of justice. There were very few of
such executions after 1871. The ordinary criminal
was beheaded in the blood-pit, so-called, which was
a pit surrounded with a much stained and slashed
wooden curb, and kept covered by a sort of trap-door.
In the pit were mats, one above the other,
which had been soaked with the blood of many
criminals. “The faint odour that ascended,” says
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span>
Mr. Griffis, “was more horrible in the awful cloud
of associations which it called up than the mere
stench.” It was then April and twenty-five heads
had fallen there since the year began. The criminal
was led to the pit blindfolded and was beheaded
with an ordinary sword, sharp as a razor. Death
followed frequently on the day of sentence and
never later than the day after.</p>

<p>Tokio has now two prisons; the first and chief
is situated upon the island of Oshikawa at the south
of the city, and the second, the convict and female
prison of Ichigawa, is in the centre of the city. The
former is completely isolated, all communication
with the mainland being by police ferry, and can
accommodate two thousand men and boys, who are
serving terms of ten years or less. The prison of
Ichigawa usually contains fifteen hundred men and
about one hundred women, among whom are many
serving life sentences. Attached to the prison is
a convict farm, and it is here that capital punishment
is carried out. Otherwise the two prisons
resemble each other closely and a description of one
will answer for both, says Mr. Norman, who described
them in 1892, and gives the following account:</p>

<p>“The entrance is through a massive wooden gateway,
into a guard-room adjoining which are the
offices of the director and officials. The prison itself
consists of a score or more of detached one-story
buildings, all of wood and some of them
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span>
merely substantial sheds, under which the rougher
labour, like stone-breaking, is performed. The
dormitories are enormous wooden cages, the front
and part of the back formed of bars as thick as one’s
arm, before which again is a narrow covered passage,
where the warder on guard walks at night.
There is not a particle of furniture or a single article
of any kind upon the floor, which is polished till
it reflects your body like a mirror. No boot, of
course, ever touches it. The thick quilts, or <i>futon</i>,
which constitute everywhere the Japanese bed, are
all rolled up and stacked on a broad shelf running
round the room overhead. Each dormitory holds
ninety-six prisoners, and there is a long row of
them. The sanitary arrangements are situated in
a little addition at the back, and I was assured that
these had not been made pleasant for my inspection.
If not, I can only say that in this most important
respect a Japanese prison could not well be improved.
In fact, the whole dormitory, with its perfect
ventilation, its construction of solid, highly-polished
wood, in which there is no chance for vermin
to harbour, and its combined simplicity and security,
is an almost ideal prison structure. Of
course the fact that every Japanese, from the emperor
to the coolie, sleeps upon quilts spread out on
the floor, greatly simplifies the task of the prison
architect in Japan.</p>

<p>“On leaving the dormitories we passed a small,
isolated square erection, peaked and gabled like a
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span>
little temple. The door was solemnly unlocked and
flung back, and I was motioned to enter. It was
the punishment cell, another spotless wooden box,
well ventilated, but perfectly dark, and with walls
so thick as to render it practically silent. ‘How
many prisoners have been in it during the last
month?’ I asked. The director summoned the chief
warder, and repeated my question to him. ‘None
whatever,’ was the reply. ‘What other punishments
have you?’ ‘None whatever.’ ‘No flogging?’
When this question was translated the director
and the little group of officials all laughed
together at the bare idea. I could not help wondering
whether there was another prison in the world
with no method of punishment for two thousand
criminals except one dark cell, and that not used
for a month. And the recollection of the filthy and
suffocating sty used as a punishment cell in the city
prison of San Francisco came upon me like a nausea.”</p>

<p>In Japan a prison consists of two parts&mdash;dormitories
and workshops. There is nothing
whatever of cells or regulation prison buildings
properly speaking. It is a place of detention, of
reformation, and of profitable work. The visitors
found in the first workshop, to their great surprise,
a couple of hundred prisoners making machinery
and steam boilers. One warder, carrying only a
sword, was in charge of every fifteen men. The
prisoners were working on contract orders for private
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span>
firms, under the supervision of one skilled master
and one representative of the firm giving the
contract. They work nine hours a day, and are
dressed in cotton suits of a peculiar terra-cotta
colour. When the foreigners entered, the warder
on guard came to attention and cried, “Pay attention!”
Every one ceased work and bowed with his
forehead to the floor, remaining in that attitude
until a second order bade them rise. They were
making large brass and iron steam pumps, and the
workshop, with its buzz of machinery and its intelligent
labour, was much like a part of an arsenal
here or in Europe.</p>

<p>Another shop contained the wood-carvers, where
more than a hundred men, with blocks of wood between
their knees, were carving with keen interest
upon all sorts of things, from simple trays and bowls
to fragile and delicate long-legged storks. “I
bought,” says our author, “an admirably-carved
tobacco box, representing the God of Laughter being
dragged along by his cloak by six naked boys,
and afterward I asked some Japanese friends who
supposed I had picked it up at a curio-dealer’s, how
much it was worth. They guessed ten <i>yen</i>&mdash;thirty
shillings. I paid sixty-eight <i>sen</i> for it&mdash;less than
two shillings. It is a piece of work that would be
admired anywhere, and yet it was the work of a
common burglar who had made the acquaintance
of a carving tool and a prison at the same time.”</p>

<p>There were also paper-makers, weavers (who
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span>
were making the fabric for the prison clothing),
fan-makers, lantern-makers and workers in baskets,
mats, and nets. A printing shop, too, there was,
where the proof-reader was a criminal of more than
ordinary interest. He had been secretary of legation
in France and had absconded with a large sum,
leaving his shoes on the river bank to lead the authorities
to believe he had committed suicide, but
he had been arrested eventually in Germany with
his mistress.</p>

<p>In one of the shops jinrikishas were being made,
in another umbrellas were being carved elaborately
and in another every kind of pottery was being
turned out. To the amazement of the visitors, they
found sixty men, common thieves and burglars,
making the exquisite cloisonn&eacute; ware&mdash;“cutting by
eye-measurement only the tiny strips of copper to
make the outline of a bird’s beak or the shading of
his wing or the articulations of his toe, sticking
these upon the rounded surface of the copper vase,
filling up the interstices with pigment, coat upon
coat, and firing and filing and polishing it.” The
finished work was true and beautiful and it was difficult
to believe that these men knew nothing at all
about it before they were sentenced. It would be
hard to imagine teaching such a thing to the convicts
at Dartmoor or at Sing Sing. In the prison at
Tokio the convict is taught to do whatever is the
limit of his natural ability. If he cannot make cloisonn&eacute;,
he is assigned to the wood-carving department,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span>
or perhaps to make pottery. If he cannot do
these, he can possibly make fans or basket-work, or
set type or cast brass. And for those who cannot
reach so high a limit as these occupations there is
left the rice mill or stone-breaking, but of two
thousand men only thirty were unable to do any
other work but that of breaking stones.</p>

<p>Prisoners receive one-tenth of the sum their
handiwork earns. A curious custom is that every
adult prisoner is kept for an additional six months
after his sentence expires unless he is claimed by
friends in the meantime, and if he has not reached
adult age he is detained until that is attained. During
the added six months these prisoners wear blue
instead of the universal reddish garb.</p>

<p>“The women’s quarter at Ichigawa,” continues
Norman, “is separated from the men’s by a
high wooden fence and gateway guarded by
a sentinel, and consists of two or three dormitories
and one large comfortable workshop, where all are
employed together at labour let out by contract.
When I was there they were all hemming silk handkerchiefs,
each seated upon the matted floor before
a little table, and very neat they all looked, and very
pretty some of them, with their loose red gowns
and simply twisted hair. ‘Those are forgers,’ said
the officer, pointing to three of them; ‘I do not like
them to be so pretty.’ One of the women had a
young baby playing beside her, and another of them
as she glanced up at us showed a face entirely different
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span>
from the rest, pale, sad and refined, and I saw
that her hands were small and very white. It was
Hanai Ume, the once famous geisha of Tokio, famous
for her beauty, her <i>samisen</i>-playing, her dancing,
her pride, and most famous of all for her
<i>affaire d’amour</i>. Two years ago a man-servant
managed to make trouble between herself and her
lover, whom she expected to buy her out of the life
of a professional musician at anybody’s call, and
then offered to make peace again between them on
his own terms. So one night she called him out of
the house and stabbed him to death with a kitchen
knife. Now music is mute for her and song is
silent and love is left behind.</p>

<p>“To the gallows is an easy transition, as it is a
natural conclusion. In a secluded part of the
grounds at Ichigawa, there is a forbidding object
like a great black box, raised six feet from the earth
at the foot of a long incline cut in the grass. A
sloping walk of black boards leads into the box on
the left-hand side. The condemned criminal is led
up this and finds himself inside upon the drop. The
rope is adjusted and the cap fitted, and then at a
signal the bottom of the box falls back. Thus the
Japanese method is exactly the opposite of our own,
the official spectators, including a couple of privileged
reporters, being spared the ghastly details of
the toilette on the scaffold, and seeing nothing until
an unrecognisable corpse is suddenly flung out and
dangles before them.”
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span></p>

<p>The state of Japanese advancement in matters of
penology is shown by the fact that in Tokio a school
is maintained for the training of prison officials in
theory and practice, with an annual attendance of
from eighty to one hundred students. They are instructed
in the laws relating to prisons and prisoners,
in the general outline of the penal code, the
sanitary care of prisons, the treatment of criminal
patients, and kindred subjects.</p>

<p>The number of felons and misdemeanants is decreasing
annually, while there has been a slight increase,
on the other hand, in the number of contraveners.
There are three disciplinary punishments in
the prisons: first, solitary confinement in a windowed
cell; second, reduction of food supply; third,
solitary confinement in a dark room.</p>

<p>Medals are granted by the prison governors as
rewards to any prisoners who have worked diligently
and conducted themselves properly in prison,
but no medal can be awarded more than three times
to any one individual. Medallists enjoy certain
privileges and leniency of treatment, and pardons
are based on the medal system.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span></p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span></p>

<p class="ph1">PRISONS OF EGYPT</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br />

<span class="medium">THE LAW IN EGYPT</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Penal code in Egypt of Mohammedan origin and derived
from the Koran&mdash;The law of talion&mdash;Price of blood&mdash;Blood
feuds and blood revenge&mdash;The courbash freely used
to raise taxes&mdash;Old police in Cairo&mdash;Extensive reforms&mdash;Oppressive
governors&mdash;Tyrannical rule of Ismail Pasha&mdash;Protection
and security guaranteed to the fellaheen by
British occupation&mdash;Prison reform&mdash;Tourah near Cairo&mdash;Labour
at the quarries&mdash;Profitable workshops&mdash;Assiut
prison&mdash;Life at Tourah&mdash;Attempts to escape&mdash;Convicts
employed on the communication line in the Sudan campaign&mdash;Excellent
sanitation and good hospital arrangements.</p>

<p>The land of the Pharaohs has ever been governed
by the practices and influenced by the traditions of
the East. From the time of the Arab conquest,
Mohammedan law has generally prevailed, and the
old penal code was derived directly from the Koran.
Its provisions were most severe, but followed the
dictates of common sense and were never outrageously
cruel. The law of talion was generally enforced,
a life for a life, an eye for an eye, a tooth
for a tooth. Murder entailed the punishment of
death, but a fine might be paid to the family of the
deceased if they would accept it; this was only permitted
when the homicide was attended by palliating
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span>
circumstances. The price of blood varied. It
might be the value of a hundred camels; or if the
culprit was the possessor of gold, a sum equal to
&pound;500 was demanded, but if he possessed silver only,
the price asked was a sum equal to &pound;300. The accomplices
and accessories were also liable to death.
Compensation in the form of a fine is not now permitted.
A man who killed another in self-defence
or to defend his property from a depredator was exempt
from punishment. Unintentional homicide
might be expiated by a fine. The price of blood
was incumbent upon the whole tribe or family to
which the murderer belonged. A woman convicted
of a capital crime was generally drowned in the
Nile.</p>

<p>Blood-revenge was a common practice among the
Egyptian people. The victim’s relations claimed
the right to kill the perpetrator, and relationship was
widely extended, for the blood guiltiness included
the homicide, his father, grandfather, great-grandfather
and great-great-grandfather, and all these
were liable to retaliation from any of the relatives
of the deceased, who in times past, killed with their
own hands rather than appeal to the government,
and often did so with disgusting cruelty, even mangling
and insulting the corpse. Animosity frequently
survived even after retaliation had been accomplished,
and blood-revenge sometimes subsisted
between neighbouring villages for several years and
through many generations. Revengeful mutilation
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span>
was allowed by the law in varying degrees. Cutting
off the nose was equivalent to the whole price of
blood, or of any two members,&mdash;two arms, two
hands, or two legs; the removal of one was valued
at half the price of blood. The fine of a man for
maiming or wounding a woman was just half of
that inflicted for injuring a man, if free; if a slave
the fine was fixed according to the commercial value
of the slave. The whole price of blood was demanded
if the victim had been deprived of any of
his five senses or when he had been grievously
wounded or disfigured for life.</p>

<p>The Koran prescribed that for a first offence of
theft the thief’s right hand should be cut off, and
for a second, his left foot; for a third, the left hand;
and for a fourth, the right foot. Further offences
of this kind were punished by flogging, or beating
with the courbash&mdash;a whip of hippopotamus hide
hammered into a cylindrical form&mdash;or a stick upon
the soles of the feet. The bastinado, in fact, was
the familiar punishment of the East. Religious
offences, such as apostacy and blasphemy, were very
rigorously punished. In Cairo a person accused
of thefts, assaults and so forth used to be carried by
a soldier before the kadi, or chief magistrate of the
metropolitan police, and sent on trial before a court
of judicature, or if he denied his offence, or the evidence
seemed insufficient for conviction, although
good grounds for suspicion existed, he was bastinadoed
to extort confession. He generally admitted
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span>
his guilt with the common formula in the case of
theft, “the devil seduced me and I took it.” The
penalties inflicted less than death included hard
labour on the public works, digging canals and the
removal of rubbish or compulsory military service.</p>

<p>The modern traveller in Egypt will bear witness
to the admirable police system introduced under
British rule, and to the security afforded to life and
property in town and country by a well organised,
well conducted force. In former days, under the
Pashas, the whole administration of justice was
corrupt from the judge in his court to the police
armed with arbitrary powers of oppression. The
chief of police in Cairo was charged with the apprehension
of thieves and criminals and with his myrmidons
made constant rounds nightly through the
city. He was accompanied by the public executioner
and a torch-bearer who carried a curious light that
burned without flame unless waved through the air,
when it burst suddenly forth; the burning end was
sometimes hidden in a small pot or jar and when
exposed served the purpose of a dark lantern. The
smell of the burning torch often gave timely warning
to thieves to make off. The chief of the police
arrogated to himself arbitrary powers, and often
put a criminal to death when caught, even for offences
not deserving capital punishment. A curious
custom obtained in old Cairo; it was the rule for
the community of thieves to be controlled by and to
obey one of their number, who was constituted their
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span>
sheik and who was required by the authorities to
hunt up offenders and surrender them to justice.</p>

<p>In old times the administration of the country
districts was in the hands of governors appointed
by the Pasha and charged by him with the collection
of taxes and the regulation of the corvee, or system
of enforced or unremunerated labour, at one time
the universal rule in Egypt. The prompt and excessive
use of the stick or courbash was the stimulus
by which the contributions demanded were extorted,
and the sheik, or headman of a village, might be
severely bastinadoed when the sum demanded ran
short. Everything was taxed, particularly the land
and its products, wholly or in part, or they were
sometimes seized outright and sold at a fixed price,
but impounded to make good the debts of the cultivators
to the government. Taxes were also levied
in kind,&mdash;butter, honey, wax, wood, baskets of
palm leaves and grain. The government granaries
were kept full by the last named exaction and in this
regard an amazing story is told.</p>

<p>The governor of the district and town of Tanta,
when visiting the granary, saw two fellaheen resting
who had just deposited their tale of corn. One
had brought in 130 ardebbs (equivalent to five English
bushels) from a village at a distance, the other
only 60 ardebbs from some land adjoining the town.
The governor at once fell foul of the defaulter, and
utterly ignoring the townsman’s protest that his was
a daily and the countryman’s a weekly contribution,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span>
ordered the man of Tanta to be forthwith hanged.
The next day the governor paid a second visit to
the granary and saw a peasant delivering a large
quantity of corn. Being much pleased, he inquired
who the man was and heard that it was he who had
been summarily executed the day before and who
now produced 160 ardebbs of grain. “What, has
he risen from the dead?” cried the governor,
astounded. “No, Sir; I hanged him so that his
toes touched the ground; and when you were gone,
I untied the rope; you did not order me to kill
him,” replied his subordinate. “Aha,” answered
the governor, “hanging and killing are different
things. Next time I will say kill.”</p>

<p>“To relate all the oppressions which the peasantry
of Egypt endure,” says Mr. E. W. Lane, the
authority for the foregoing, “from the dishonesty
of the officials would require too much space in the
present work. It would be scarcely possible for
them to suffer more and live.” Yet a worse time
was approaching, when the notorious Ismail Pasha
became practically supreme ruler and used his unchecked
power for the complete enslavement of
Egypt. His methods of misgovernment, his robbery,
spoliation and cruel oppression are now matters
of history. This modern Sardanapalus, as he
has been aptly styled, lavishly wasted the wealth he
wrung out of his helpless subjects by the intolerable
rapacity of his ferocious tax gatherers. The fellaheen
were stripped to the skin to fill his coffers and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span>
feed the boundless extravagance of a vain and licentious
prince. His private property was enormous;
his estates and factories were valued at sixty
millions sterling; he owned forty-three palaces and
was building more when, in a few short years, he
had brought Egypt to the brink of ruin, and the
people starved at his door.</p>

<p>The people of Egypt not only paid taxes, but their
possessions were seized ruthlessly, their lands misappropriated,
their cattle and goods confiscated;
they were mere slaves whose right to work on their
own account was forfeited; and the whole population
was driven forth from their villages with whips,
hundreds of thousands of men, women and children,
under the iniquitous system of enforced labour, to
make roads through the Khedive’s estates, till the
cotton fields and build embankments to control the
distribution of the life-giving Nile. No escape from
these hardships was possible, no relief from this
most grievous Egyptian bondage. The arbitrary
despot backed his demands by a savage system of
punishments, and when the courbash was ineffectual,
he banished malcontents to the remote provinces of
central Africa, where, after a terrible journey, they
expiated their offences at Fazoglo or Fashoda.
Sometimes the highest officials were arrested and
despatched in chains, without any form of trial, and
were detained for years in this tropical Siberia. To
speak of the Nemesis that eventually overtook Ismail
and deprived him with ignominy of a power he
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span>
so shamefully misused is beyond the scope of this
work. But reference must be made in some detail
to the many merciful changes introduced into the
administration of justice under the British protectorate
that has succeeded to Egyptian rule.</p>

<p>In Egypt, at the present time, every son of the
soil is safe from arbitrary and illegal arrest; the
imposition of taxes is regulated strictly according to
law; there is no enforced labour,&mdash;the corvee has
been absolutely swept out of existence. Every
peaceably disposed citizen may live sheltered and
protected from outrage and in the undisturbed enjoyment
of his possessions, waxing rich by his own
exertion, safe from the attack or interference of
evil-doers. It was not always so, and the great
boons of personal security and humane, equitable
treatment now guaranteed to every soul in the land
have been only slowly acquired. Until 1844 the
Egyptian police was ineffective, the law was often
a dead letter, and the prisons were a disgrace to
humanity and civilisation. Before that date the
country was covered with zaptiehs, or small district
prisons, in which illegal punishment and every form
of cruelty were constantly practised. It was quite
easy for anyone in authority to consign a fellah to
custody. One of the first of the many salutary reforms
introduced by the new prison department established
under British predominance was an exact
registration of every individual received at the
prison gate, and the enforcement of the strict rule
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span>
that no one should be admitted without an order of
committal duly signed by some recognised judicial
authority. To-day, of course, any such outrage as
illegal imprisonment is out of the question. Another
form of oppression in the old days was the
unconscionable delay in bringing the accused to
trial. Hundreds were thus detained awaiting gaol
delivery for six or nine months, sometimes for one
or two years. At that time, too, there was no separation
of classes; the innocent were herded with the
guilty, children with grown men; only the females,
as might be expected in a Mohammedan country,
were kept apart, but their number then and since
has always been exceedingly few.</p>

<p>The first step taken by the new r&eacute;gime was to
concentrate prisoners in a certain number of selected
prisons, such as they were, but the best that could
be found. In these, twenty-one in number, strenuous
efforts were made to introduce order; cleanliness
was insisted upon and disinfectants were
largely used, while medical men were appointed at
each place, who attended daily to give medicine and
move the sick into hospital. The health of the
prisoners was so much improved that they constituted
one per cent. of the daily average of prisoners,
and this ratio has been maintained, so that in the
cholera epidemic in 1896 only a few convicts died.</p>

<p>A good prison system could only be introduced in
improved prisons, and the first created was the great
convict establishment at Tourah, a village about
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span>
eight miles above Cairo on the banks of the Nile and
at the foot of the great limestone quarries that have
supplied the city with its building material from the
earliest days. In 1885 the old military hospital at
Tourah was handed over to be converted into a
public works prison; a few of the wards were converted
into cells, and a draft of 250 convicts was
brought from the arsenal at Alexandria to occupy
them. These proved skilful workmen, as the fellaheen,
whether captive or free, invariably are, and
with the help of a few paid stone-masons they restored
the half-ruined upper story of the ancient
building and converted it into a satisfactory prison
to hold one hundred and fifty more inmates. The
four hundred steadfastly continued their labours and
to such good purpose, demolishing, removing, cleaning,
and constructing new roads and approaches,
that in May, 1886, an entirely new prison for five
hundred convicts was completed and occupied.
Many forms of industry were carried on with excellent
financial results, as will be seen from the following
details.</p>

<p>All the lime for buildings was burned in two
lime kilns constructed for the purpose; all the furniture
and woodwork, the tables, beds and doors
were made by convict carpenters; all the ironwork,
the bolts and bars for safe custody, the very leg-irons,
their own inalienable livery under the old
Egyptian prison code, were turned out by convict
blacksmiths; and hundreds of baskets for carrying
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span>
earth and stone have been manufactured. The industrial
labour at Tourah is now of many useful
kinds. New prison clothing, new boots (although
these usually indispensable articles are only issued
to a favoured few prisoners in Egypt), the baking
of bread and biscuit for home consumption, or to be
sent to out-stations, plate laying and engine fitting,
stone dressing for prison buildings, both at Tourah
and elsewhere,&mdash;all these are constantly in progress
at the Tourah prison. The money made in
the prison provides funds for many things necessary
for further development, such as tram lines,
locomotives, improved tools and machinery of all
kinds.</p>

<p>A visit to Tourah is both interesting and instructive.
The chief employment of the convicts is in
the quarries, a couple of miles from the prison, to
which the gangs proceed every morning at daylight
and where they remain every day of the week but
Friday, which is their Sabbath, until four o’clock
in the afternoon. There is no time wasted in marching
to and fro. The dinner, or midday meal, is
carried out to the quarries by the cooks, and after
it is eaten the convicts are allowed an hour’s rest
in such shade as can be found in the nearly blinding
heat of the dazzling white quarries. As this midday
siesta is the common hour for trains to pass on to
the neighbouring health resort of Helouan, casual
observers might think that rest and refreshment
formed a great part of the Egyptian convict’s daily
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span>
life. But that would be a grievous mistake. During
the hours of labour, ceaseless activity is the rule;
all around the picks resound upon the unyielding
stone; some are busy with the levers raising huge
blocks, stimulated by the sing-song, monotonous
chant, without which Arabs, like sailors, cannot
work with any effect. The burden of the song
varies, but it is generally an appeal for divine or
heavenly assistance, “Allahiteek!” “May God
give it,” the phrase used by the initiated to silence
the otherwise too importunate beggar, or
“Halimenu,” “Hali Elisa,” ending in an abrupt
“Hah!” or “Hop!” at the moment of supreme
effort.</p>

<p>A visitor of kindly disposition is not debarred
from encouraging effort by the gift of a few cigarettes
to the convicts. Tobacco is not forbidden in
the prisons of Egypt. It is issued to convicts in
the works prisons in small rations as a reward,
according to the governor’s judgment. The unconvicted
and civil prisoners undergoing merely detention
are at liberty to purchase it. I was the witness,
the cause indeed, of a curious and unwonted scene
in the small prison at Assiut when I inspected it in
1898. The sale of tobacco was in progress in the
prison yard, where all of the prisoners, a hundred
and more, were at exercise. An official stood behind
a small table on which lay the little screws of tobacco
for disposal, each for a few <i>milliems</i>, the
smallest of Egyptian coins, the fractional part of a
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span>
farthing. The eagerness with which the poor prisoners
eyed the precious weed excited my generosity,
and I bought up the whole table load, then and
there, for a couple of shillings. The prisoners
crowding around saw the deal and understood it.
Hardly had I put down the ten piastres when the
whole body “rushed” the table, overset it, threw
the screws of tobacco upon the ground, and all
hands pounced down on the scattered weed in one
great struggling, scrambling, combatant medley.
The tobacco was quite wasted, of course, and I have
no idea who got the money. The m&ecirc;l&eacute;e was so unmanageable
that it was necessary to call out the
guard to drive the prisoners back to their wards. I
was aghast at my indiscretion and ready to admit
that I should have known better.</p>

<p>The daily unremitting toil of Tourah must be
preferable to all but the incurably idle. Yet the terror
of “Tourah” is now universal up and down
Egypt. It is the great “bogey” of the daily life
among the lower classes, the threat held over the
fractious child or the misconducted donkey boy who
claims an exorbitant “bakshish.” To accuse any
decent fellah of having been in Tourah is the worst
sort of insult and at once indignantly denied. When
my own connection with the English prisons became
known, I was generally called the pasha of the English
Tourah, and my official position gained me very
marked respect among classes spoiled by many thousands
of annual tourists,&mdash;the greedy guides and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span>
donkey boys, the shameless vendors of sham curiosities,
the importunate beggars that infest hotel entrances,
swarm in the villages and make hideous the
landing stages up the Nile. An old hand will best
silence a persistent cry for alms or the wail of <i>miski</i>
(poverty stricken), of “Halas! finish father, finish
mother” (the ornate expression for an orphan),
by talking of the <i>caracol</i>, “police station,” and a
promise of “Tourah” to follow.</p>

<p>Life in Tourah must be hard. The monotonous
routine from daylight to sundown, the long nights
of thirteen or fourteen hours, from early evening to
morning, caged up with forty or fifty others tainted
with every vice and crime, must be a heavy burden
upon all but the absolutely debased. The evils of
association, of herding criminals together, left to
their own wicked devices, without supervision, were
present in the highest degree in Egyptian prisons.
At last, however, a move was made to provide separate
cells for a certain number, and a new prison of
1,200 cells was built by convict labour at Tourah
immediately opposite the new hospitals and at some
distance from the old prison. Much mischievous
conspiracy of the worst kind is prevented by keeping
individuals apart during the idle hours of the
night, for it was then that those concerted escapes
of large numbers were planned, which have occurred
more than once at Tourah, but have been generally
abortive, ending only in bloodshed; for the black
Sudanese, who form the convict guards, are expert
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span>
marksmen and surely account for a large part of the
fugitives.</p>

<p>There must be something very tempting to the
untutored mind&mdash;and many of these Tourah convicts
are half-wild creatures, Bedouins of the desert
or the lowest scum of the cities&mdash;in the seeming
freedom of their condition during so many hours
of the day. Liberty seems within easy reach. Not
a mile from the quarries are great overhanging
cliffs, honey-combed with caves, deep, cavernous recesses
affording secure hiding places, and it is for
these that the rush is made. In August of 1896
there was a serious attempt of this kind, and success
was achieved by some of the runaways. The
hour chosen was that of the break-off from labour,
when the gangs, surrounded by their guards, converge
on a central point, very much as may be seen
on any working-day at Portland or Dartmoor, and
thence march home in one compact body to the distant
prison. It is a curiously picturesque scene.
The convicts, mostly fine, stalwart men, their
ragged, dirty white robes flying in the wind and
their chains rattling, swing past, two by two, in
an almost endless procession. Below, the mighty
river, flowing between its belt of palm and narrow
fringe of green, shines like burnished silver under
the declining sun; beyond stretches the wide
desert to the foot of the Pyramids, those of Sakhara
at one end of the landscape, those of Cheops
at the other,&mdash;colossal monuments of enforced
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span>
labour very similar to that now surviving at Tourah.</p>

<p>Such was the moment chosen for a general stampede.
About sixty or seventy convicts agreed to cut
and run simultaneously, all toward the shelter of
the hills. A few were told off to try conclusions
with the armed guards, to wrest away the rifles and
thus secure both immunity from fire and the power
to use the weapon in self-defence. The attempt
appears to have been fairly successful at first. A
few rifles were seized, and the fugitives, turning on
their pursuers, made some pretty practice, during
which a few of the more fortunate got away. But
authority finally asserted itself. Many were shot
down; the rest were overtaken and immediately
surrendered. The absence of “grit,” so characteristic
of the race, showed itself at once, and these
poor wretches, who had been bold enough to make
the first rush under a hail of bullets, now squatted
down and with uplifted hands implored for mercy
or declared it was all a mistake. “Malesh, it does
not matter,” was their cry then. But they no doubt
found that it mattered a great deal when a few
days later Nemesis overtook them in the shape of
corporal punishment; for the lash, a cat of six tails,
is used in the Egyptian prisons as a last resort in
the maintenance of discipline and good order. It
is only inflicted, however, under proper safeguards
and by direct sentence of a high official. There is
no courbash now in the prisons, and no warder or
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span>
guard is permitted to raise his hand against a prisoner.
Tyranny and ill-usage are strictly forbidden.</p>

<p>Escapes have happened at other places. When
military operations were in progress on the frontier
leading to the revindication of the Sudan, an immense
amount of good work was done by large
detachments of convicts at stations high up the
river. There were rough and ready “Tourahs” at
Assuan, Wady Halfa, Korosko, Suakin, El Teb,
points of considerable importance in the service of
the campaign, where supplies were constantly being
landed, stored or sent forward to the front. The
Egyptian prison authorities very wisely and intelligently
utilised the labour at their disposal to assist
in unloading boats and in reshipping stores and railway
plant. Numbers of convicts were employed to
construct the railway ahead in the direction of Abu
Hamed by which the advance was presently made.
The Nile above Merawi flows through the most
difficult country in its whole course, the very “worst
water,” and no navigation in that length was possible
by steamers, little or none by small boats except
at high Nile and then only by haulage. It was
necessary, therefore, to complete the railway to Abu
Hamed, so that gunboats might be sent up in sections
over the line, to be put together above the
cataracts and then utilised in the final advance, for
the river is more or less open to Berber and on to
Khartum, and the success of the campaign was
greatly facilitated thereby.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span></p>

<p>Egyptian convicts did much good work of a superior
kind. Now and again a trained handicraftsman
was found who was willing to put forward his best
skill and there was always a smart man ready to
act as leader and foreman of the rest, as is very
much the case, indeed, with convicts all over the
world. One man in particular at Wady Halfa was
well known as a most industrious and intelligent
worker. He so gained the good-will of the British
officers that, not knowing his antecedents, many of
them strongly recommended him for release as a
reward for his usefulness. But the prison authorities
were unable to accede to this seemingly very
justifiable request. This best of prisoners (again
following experience elsewhere) was the worst of
criminals. He had committed no fewer than eight
murders, possibly not with malicious motives, or
he would hardly have escaped the gallows. The
death penalty is not, however, inflicted very frequently
in Egypt. In one case worth mentioning
as illustrating the almost comical side of Egyptian
justice, a man sentenced to death was held to serve
a short term of imprisonment for some minor offence
before he was considered ripe for execution.
When the short sentence was completed, he was incontinently
hanged.</p>

<p>At Assuan during war time hundreds of convicts
were engaged all day long under the windows
of the hotel. Their rattling chains were heard soon
after dawn mixed with their unmelodious sing-song
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span>
as described above. They could be seen constantly
and freely approached, as they clustered around the
great crane that raised the heaviest weights, locomotives,
tender, and boilers, from the boats moored
below, or as they passed along in single file backward
and forward between the beach and the railway
station or storehouses near-by. All were in
picturesque rags, except the military prisoners,
dressed in a startling uniform of bright orange; all
wore the inevitable leg-irons riveted on their spare,
shrunken brown ankles. It was the custom once,
as in the old French <i>bagnes</i>, to chain the Egyptian
convicts in couples, a long-term man newly arrived
being chained with one whose sentence had nearly
expired.</p>

<p>This practice has now been discontinued, and
each unfortunate bears his burden alone. Much ingenuity
is exercised to prevent the basils or anklets
from chafing the skin. The most effective method,
employed no doubt by the most affluent, was a
leather pad inserted within the iron ring; others
without resources, owning not a single <i>milliem</i> in
the world, used any filthy rags or scraps of sacking
they could beg or steal. Pads of this kind have been
worn from time immemorial by all prisoners and
captives; no doubt the galley slaves chained to the
oar in classical days invented them, and they were
known until quite lately in the French <i>bagnes</i> of
Rochefort and Toulon by the name of <i>patarasses</i>,
which the old hands manufactured and sold to the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span>
newcomers. Another old-fashioned device among
the Egyptian convicts is the short hook hanging
from a waistband, which catches up one link of
the irons, a simple necessity where the chain is of
such length that it drags inconveniently along the
ground.</p>

<p>The general use of fetters is not now approved by
civilised nations. But in Egypt they appear to be
nearly indispensable for safe custody. The removal
of the leg-irons from convicts has often encouraged
them to effect escape. Once sixteen of them at
Assuan were astute enough to sham illness. It was
during the cholera epidemic, and they knew enough
of the symptoms to counterfeit some of them cleverly.
The medical officer in charge was compassionate
and thought it cruel that his patients should
die in their chains, so he had them struck off.
Within a few hours the unshackled convicts gave
their guardians leg-bail, and escaped from the hospital
into the desert, and so down the river. These
very men afterward formed the nucleus of the band
of <i>harami</i>, the robbers and brigands who terrorised
the lower province for some months and were only
disposed of at last by summary action. The story
of the subsequent burning of the brigands at
Belianah became public property and was made the
occasion of one of those virulent attacks upon British
rule that often found voice under the unrestrained
license of the Egyptian press. These out-laws
were pursued and overtaken at last by the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span>
police in a house where they had barricaded themselves.
It was impossible to break in, and the assailants
therefore set fire to the thatched roof. The
robbers used this as their private arsenal, and the
fire soon ignited their cartridges with a terrific explosion
in which most of the defenders lost their
lives. This practice of concealing explosives in the
roof was not uncommon during the days of conflict
with the Mahdi. When the sheik of Derowi was
arrested on a charge of conveying contraband ammunition
into the Sudan, he contrived to send back
a message to his wife to make away with all damaging
evidence. She thought the safest way to
dispose of the gunpowder stored in the house was
by fire and at the same time she also disposed, very
effectually, of herself.</p>

<p>A striking feature at Tourah was the admirable
prison hospital, which would compare favourably
with the best in the world. It is a two-storied building
with lofty, well-ventilated wards, beds and bedding,
all in the most approved style; a well-stocked
dispensary and a fully qualified medical man in
daily attendance. The patients, unless too ill to rise,
sit up on their beds rather like poultry roosting, and
suffer from most of the ills to which humanity is
heir. The complaints most prevalent are eczema,
tuberculosis (the great scourge of the black prisoners
from the south), ophthalmia, and dysentery.
“Stone” is a malady very prevalent and showing
itself in the most aggravated form, due no doubt to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span>
the constant drinking of lime-affected water. I saw
calculi of almost colossal size, the result of some
recent operations, extracted by the prison surgeons,
whose skill is evidently remarkable.</p>

<p>Too much praise can hardly be accorded the
Egyptian prison administration for its prompt and
effective treatment of the cholera epidemic when it
appeared in Egypt in 1896. Although the mortality
was serious in the general population, the percentage
of deaths was relatively small in the prisons.
Out of a total of 7,954 prison inmates (this number
did not include the convicts at the seat of war or on
the Red Sea) there were only one hundred and sixteen
cases and seventy deaths. In six of the prisons
the disease did not appear; in others, although
situated in the heart of infected towns, and prisoners
were being constantly received from infected
districts, the cases were few. In Tourah, with a
total population of thirteen hundred and fifty, there
were but twenty-two; at Assiut, a new building
with good sanitation, only two; the average was
largest at Keneh, Mansourah and Assuan. Not a
single female prisoner was attacked; an immunity
attributed to the fact that the females in custody
receive regular prison diet, while the males, except
at Tourah and Ghizeh, are fed, often indifferently,
by their friends outside. These excellent results
were undoubtedly due to the strict isolation of the
inmates of any prison in which the cholera had appeared.
Whenever a case showed, the introduction
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span>
of food or clothing from outside was strictly forbidden,
and friends were not admitted when cholera
existed in the neighbourhood. Much credit was due
also to the unselfish devotion of the Egyptian medical
staff, who were unremitting in their care and of
whom two died of the disease at their posts.</p>

<p>It was officially stated in 1903 that such crimes
as robbery with violence, petty thefts and brigandage
had increased materially since 1899. The reason
given for this was the failure of the police
machinery to bring out the truth and the practice of
bribes which was everywhere prevalent. The corruption
of magistrates and the terrorism held over
witnesses make it exceedingly difficult to bring a
man to justice or obtain satisfactory convictions.
But we may well conclude that the prison system
as established in Egypt to-day is of the most modern
and satisfactory character.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span></p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span></p>

<p class="ph1">PRISONS OF TURKEY</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span></p>

<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br />

<span class="medium">TURKISH PRISONS</span></h2>

<p class="hang">Old castles used as prisons&mdash;The Castle of Europe&mdash;The
Seven Towers and the “Well of Blood”&mdash;The Seraglio
and the Bagnio&mdash;The Zaptie&mdash;Lack of prison discipline&mdash;Midhat
Pasha and the Constitution&mdash;His disgrace and
death&mdash;The Young Turk movement&mdash;Horrible massacres
at Adana&mdash;The provincial prisons all bad&mdash;Fetters and
other modes of torture&mdash;Little improvement under new
sultan.</p>

<p>There are few notable buildings in Turkey constructed
primarily as prisons. In fact there are few
buildings of any sort constructed for that purpose.
But every palace had, and one may almost say, still
has its prison chambers; and every fortress has its
dungeons, the tragedies of which are chiefly a matter
of conjecture. Few were present at the tortures,
and in a country where babbling is not always safe,
witnesses were likely to be discreet.</p>

<p>In and around Constantinople, if walls had only
tongues, strange and gruesome stories might be
told. On the Asiatic side of the Bosporus still stand
the ruins of a castle built by Bayezid I, known as
“the Thunderbolt” when the Ottoman princes were
the dread of Europe. Sigismund, King of Hungary,
had been defeated, and Constantinople was the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span>
next object of attack, though not to fall for a half
century. This castle was named “the Beautiful,”
but so many prisoners died there of torture and ill-treatment
that the name “Black Tower” took its
place in common speech.</p>

<p>Directly opposite, on the European side of the
Bosporus, is <i>Rumili Hissar</i>, or the Castle of Europe,
which Muhammad II, “the Conqueror,” built in
1452 when he finally reached out to transform the
headquarters of Eastern Christendom into the centre
of Islam. The castle was built upon the site of
the state prison of the Byzantine emperors, which
was destroyed to make room for it. The three towers
of the castle, and the walls thirty feet thick, still
stand. In the Tower of Oblivion which now has
as an incongruous neighbour, the Protestant institution,
Robert College, is a fiendish reminder of
days hardly yet gone. A smooth walled stone chute
reaches from the interior of the tower down into
the Bosporus. Into the mouth of this the hapless
victim, bound and gagged perhaps, with weights
attached to his feet, was placed. Down he shot
and bubbles marked for a few seconds the grave
beneath the waters.</p>

<p>The Conqueror built also the <i>Yedi Kuleh</i>, or the
“Seven Towers,” at the edge of the old city. This
imperial castle, like the Bastile or the Tower of
London, was also a state prison, though its glory
and its shame have both departed. The Janissaries
who guarded this castle used to bring thither the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span>
sultans whom they had dethroned either to allow
them to linger impotently or to cause them to lose
their heads. A cavern where torture was inflicted
and the rusty machines which tore muscles and
cracked joints, may still be seen. The dungeons in
which the prisoners lay are also shown. A small
open court was the place of execution and to this
day it is called the “place of heads” while a deep
chasm into which the heads were thrown is the
“well of blood.”</p>

<p>Several sultans, (the exact number is uncertain)
and innumerable officers of high degree have suffered
the extreme penalty here. It was here too
that foreign ambassadors were always imprisoned
in former days, when Turkey declared war against
the states they represented. The last confined here
was the French representative in 1798.</p>

<p>Another interesting survival of early days is the
Seraglio, the old palace of the sultans, and its subsidiary
buildings, scattered over a considerable area.
In the court of the treasury is the <i>Kafess</i>, or cage,
in which the imperial children were confined from
the time of Muhammad III, lest they should aspire
to the throne. Sometimes however the brothers
and sons of the reigning sultan were confined, each
in a separate pavilion on the grounds. A retinue
of women, pages and eunuchs was assigned to each
but the soldiers who guarded them were warned
to be strict. The present sultan was confined by
his brother Abdul Hamid within the grounds of the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span>
Yildiz Kiosk, where he had many liberties but was
a prisoner nevertheless. Absolutism breeds distrust
of all, no matter how closely connected by ties of
blood.</p>

<p>An interesting prison was the old Bagnio, once
the principal prison of Constantinople. The English
economist, N. W. Senior, describes it as it was
sixty years ago, in his “Journal.” It was simply
an open court at one end of which was a two-story
building. Each story was composed of one long
room divided into stalls by wooden partitions, the
whole, dark, unventilated and dirty beyond description.
Some turbulent prisoners were chained in
their stalls which they were not permitted to leave.</p>

<p>The chief interest lay in the court-yard, however,
which was the common meeting place. No rules
as to cleanliness or regularity of hours existed. No
one was compelled to work and the great majority
preferred to lounge in the sun. In the court were
coffee and tobacco shops, while sellers of sweetmeats
made their way through the crowds. Though
capital punishment was nominally inflicted, it was
never imposed unless there were eye witnesses of
the crime, and seldom then. So of the eight hundred
inmates of the Bagnio, six hundred were murderers,
some of them professionals. Nearly all wore
chains, some of which were heavy, and as several
prisoners were attached to one chain occasionally
conflicts arose as different members of the group
exhibited divergent desires.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span></p>

<p>Another visitor about the same time saw the
picturesque side. He mentions the robbers, chiefs
from Smyrna, stalking about the enclosure, the voluble
Greeks and Armenians, the secretive Jews,
and an Irishman or two, mingling with the stolid
Turks. Inmates were sipping coffee, smoking,
playing cards, disputing, fighting, while a furtive
pickpocket made his rounds. In a corner a fever
patient was stretched out oblivious to his surroundings,
though the clamour sometimes was deafening.
He goes on to say:</p>

<p>“Yet physically the wretches were not ill-treated;
they need not ever work unless they like. The
court is small and so is the two-storied stable where
they sleep upon the earth; but then these are men
who perhaps never got between sheets nor lay on
a bed in their lives. They may talk what they like,
and when they like. They have a Mosque, a Greek
chapel and a Roman Catholic chapel. They can
have coffee and tobacco, and if they work they are
supposed to be paid for it. There is no treadmill,
no crank, there are no solitary cells.”</p>

<p>The same observer describes the Zaptie or House
of Detention as it then existed, and though the
building as it exists to-day is improved, conditions
are not essentially different. Then there were two
communicating courts, where pickpockets, ordinary
thieves, participants in affrays, and even murderers
were confined. At night they were locked in rooms.
One of these sleeping rooms, eleven by seventeen
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span>
feet, was occupied at night by twelve men. In such
places prisoners were kept an indefinite time awaiting
trial, and perhaps then discharged without trial
and without explanation.</p>

<p>A large number of Turkish prisoners have been
confined either for conspiracy against the government,
or for daring to exhibit a certain amount of
independence. An officer apparently high in favour
to-day might be degraded on the next without warning.
An interesting case of this kind is the case
of Midhat Pasha, one of the best known men in
Turkey thirty or forty years ago.</p>

<p>He was one of the little group of Turks who
adopted European ideas after the Crimean war.
He was a friend of England as opposed to Russia
and the influence of the latter state was thrown
against him. He was one of the ministers by whom
the sultan, Abdul Aziz, was dethroned. This prince
soon afterward died, possibly by suicide, though
ugly rumours were heard. When Murad, the incompetent,
was also deposed Midhat had a hand
in the affair. On the accession of Abdul Hamid he
was again made Grand Vizier, and secured the promulgation
of the famous Turkish constitution of
1876, against the will of the sultan.</p>

<p>When Abdul Hamid felt himself firm in his seat
in 1877, he banished Midhat, but recalled him the
next year, and made him governor-general, first of
Syria and then of Smyrna. The constitution was
practically abrogated by this time. Then without
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span>
warning he was arrested in May, 1881, charged
with being concerned in the murder of Abdul Aziz.
He with others was quickly tried by a special court,
was found guilty and condemned to death.</p>

<p>The sentence was changed to imprisonment for
life, and the place of confinement was fixed at Ta&iuml;f,
in Arabia, a small place south of Mecca. There he
and his companions who had received similar sentence,
including a former Sheikh-ul-Islam, Hassan
Ha&iuml;roullah, were at first allowed the freedom of
the castle. Their servants bought and cooked their
food, and though the rude accommodations were
somewhat trying to the old men, conditions were
endurable.</p>

<p>A change in treatment was foreshadowed by a
change in gaolers. The privilege of buying food
was taken away, and they were expected to eat the
coarse fare of the common soldier. They were forbidden
to communicate with one another. For a
time the faithful servant was refused access to
Midhat’s person, though this order was afterward
revoked. Poison was discovered in the milk, and
in a pot of food. The servant was offered large
sums to poison him, but the faithful attendant only
redoubled his vigilance. Finally when hardship,
separation from family and friends, and dread of
the future, seemed unable to destroy his life more
primitive measures were taken. After enduring two
years of such treatment he was strangled one morning
while still in bed, together with two of his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span>
friends. Such was the dread inspired by the sultan,
that no one dared to inquire or to make public
his fate. A letter from his friend, the Sheikh-ul-Islam,
to the family of Midhat was, however, published
a few years ago and then the whole truth
became known.</p>

<p>The case of Midhat was not exceptional, except
for his prominence in European circles. The same
fate has overtaken many others. Fishermen in the
Bosporus, every now and then, pulled up a sack in
which a body was sewn, and those who reasoned
might remember that it had been announced that
a one time favourite at the Court had set out on a
journey to London or Paris, though somehow he
had mysteriously failed to arrive.</p>

<p>But though Midhat Pasha and others who struggled
to introduce Western institutions into the borders
of the East died their work lived. One by one,
those suspected of having advanced ideas were degraded.
A man might be Grand Vizier for a month
or a week, or even for a day, and then without warning,
be dismissed in disgrace. The suspicious sultan
trusted no one. He set brother to watch
brother, father to spy upon son, and then believed
none of them, though he always guarded himself
lest they might be telling the truth.</p>

<p>Paris received the larger number of those who
fled from the clutches of Abdul the Damned. In
the life of the French capital, some gave themselves
up to the manifold dissipations which that city offers
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span>
for her visitors. Others loosely organised,
worked and watched for that better day, when the
Turk should no longer be a byword among civilised
peoples. A newspaper edited by Ahmed Riza was
published and thousands of copies were smuggled
into the dominions. Hundreds of thousands of pamphlets
somehow passed the Turkish frontiers and
found readers, though their possession if discovered
meant imprisonment and degradation, but the
“Young Turks” were undismayed.</p>

<p>Into the harems the new ideas crept. One read
to the others during the long days, and the forbidden
books passed from hand to hand, and from
house to house. Women high in rank, the daughters
of court officials, carried messages. Where a
man seemed approachable on that side, some member
of his harem was converted, or else some
woman was placed in his way, even sold to him,
perhaps. Dozens of women sold into the harems
of prominent men went as apostles of the new faith.
Women deliberately sacrificed their reputations,
since free association with men, unless supposedly
lovers, would have aroused suspicion.</p>

<p>The army became infected, the officers first.
During 1907, the third army corps in Macedonia
became thoroughly permeated. Of course the cruel
autocrat knew something of all this, for his spies
were everywhere, but he misjudged the extent. He
had seen dissatisfaction and unrest before, and he
had crushed them by sudden blows. Perhaps he
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span>
was tired, and less acute than he had been twenty
years before. At any rate he waited too long before
taking vigorous action.</p>

<p>Early in 1908 he ordered the higher officers of
the army to quiet the unrest. A beloved officer
raised the standard of revolt in Macedonia, and the
soldiers refused to fire upon the rebels. The Committee
of Union and Progress, as the “Young
Turk” movement was called, assumed charge of the
revolt and demanded the restoration of the constitution,
which the sultan refused. Agents were sent
to enforce his commands, but they were forced to
flee for their lives, and officers not in sympathy
with the movement were threatened. Thoroughly
alarmed by the defection of the army, the cowardly
sultan pretended to yield and on July 24, 1908, the
constitution was restored.</p>

<p>Too much perhaps was expected of the Parliament.
The fanatical Moslem leaders spread rumours
of every sort, and the sultan’s agents were
everywhere active, distilling doubt and suspicion
into the soldiers and populace. In April, 1909, the
garrison at Constantinople rose, dispersed the Parliament,
and the wily sultan seemed again in control.
The army in Macedonia was still loyal to the
new ideas, and was promptly mobilised. Within
ten days Constantinople was again in control of
the Young Turks.</p>

<p>Abdul Hamid was evidently not to be trusted.
The die was cast. His deposition was voted by the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span>
reassembled Parliament, and his brother who had
long been a prisoner was placed on the throne,
though the Young Turks, warned by their mishap,
kept an effective veto on reaction in the form of
the army.</p>

<p>But the wily Abdul not only plotted to gain back
his authority in Europe, but his agents fanned the
flames of religious and racial hatred in Asia Minor.
The Armenians were once a great nation, and
though they have long been ground beneath the
heel of the oppressor, they still cherish the idea that
another great Christian nation will arise in Asia.
They saw hope in the new r&eacute;gime and began to
speak more freely, to exhibit pictures of their old
kings, and to buy arms.</p>

<p>The fierce Turks, Kurds, Arabs and Circassians
looked upon the presumption of the “Christian
dogs” with rage. Meanwhile agents of the Mohammedan
League were everywhere stirring passion
to fever heat, and on Tuesday, April 13, 1909,
the conflict began in Adana, though not until the
next day was the fighting general. For three days
the contest raged, when soldiers appeared and a
semblance of order was restored. Similar scenes
had taken place in Osmanieh, Hamedieh, while at
Tarsus the Armenians stood like sheep to be slain.</p>

<p>On Sunday, April 25th, the slaughter again broke
out at Adana. This time it was a massacre pure
and simple, for the few Armenians who owned
weapons had either fled, or else were almost without
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span>
ammunition. Men, women, children were indiscriminately
killed, houses were robbed and burned,
until hardly a Christian home was left standing.
Over the whole country fire and sword made a
waste of what had been the home of a prosperous
population. How many were killed can only be
estimated. Some say thirty thousand. No estimate
is less than half that number.</p>

<p>An investigation was set on foot by Parliament
after the instigator of the massacre had been sent
with eight of his wives to live a prisoner at Salonica.
The commission reported that it had hanged fifteen
persons&mdash;fifteen persons for slaying fifteen thousand.</p>

<p>Though much reduced during later years, the
Turkish empire still stretches over three continents
and the islands of the sea. Though penal conditions
around Constantinople are bad, where diverse races
and religions, far away from central control, must
live together, trouble constantly exists. The Turk
has always been weak in administration, and it is
in these provincial prisons that the chief horrors
are seen.</p>

<p>For administrative purposes Turkey is divided
into <i>vilayets</i>, which are subdivided into <i>sanjaks</i> or
<i>livas</i>, and these into <i>kazas</i>. Each division has its
prison. That of the last named corresponds roughly
to the county gaol of the United States. In it accused
persons awaiting trial and prisoners sentenced
to short terms are confined. Graver crimes
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span>
are punished by confinement in the prison of the
<i>sanjak</i> or the <i>vilayet</i>. For special crimes and
for certain kinds of political offences prisoners may
be sent to Rhodes, Sinope, Tripoli and other similar
points where old castles are usually the prisons.</p>

<p>There is no common form of prison. Generally
they are old ugly buildings, though in a few larger
towns new and elegant structures have taken their
place. In only one particular are they alike&mdash;they
are all dirty, and are generally damp and unhealthful,
because of slovenly attention and overcrowding.
The prisons are usually in charge of the <i>zaptiehs</i>,
though special officers, chosen for the purpose control
others. Where these <i>gardiens</i> have charge,
matters are usually less bad than in the general run.</p>

<p>Prisoners are expected to feed themselves. With
the exception of alcoholic beverages, friends or relatives
may send any articles of food, or the prisoner
may buy them from his own means. Even alcohol
is smuggled in by the connivance of the guards who
are always willing to accept a bribe. Tobacco of
course is considered a necessity. To the very poor
coarse bread is usually furnished, but the allowance
for this purpose is often embezzled by the officials,
and then the poor must live upon the charity of their
fellow prisoners.</p>

<p>The indiscriminate congregate system is still in
vogue as in the days of the Bagnio. A dozen, a
score, or more, are assigned to one room where they
live and sleep. Sanitary arrangements are usually
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span>
primitive, if not outrageously bad, and the atmosphere
is trying to a sensitive nose. There is no
prison costume. A prisoner wears what he likes,
eats what he likes, and spends his time as he likes,
within the limits of the prison. There is no pretence
of reform. The prisoners live idle, useless
lives. Though, according to law, a prisoner may
work if he desires, in fact, work is not encouraged
because of the disputes likely to arise over the sale
of his product, and hardly one per cent. is occupied.</p>

<p>Yet strange as it may appear at first glance, a
great number are perfectly content. Leisure, food,
tobacco are theirs and they wish little more. When
two-thirds of the sentence has been served, it is the
custom to release the tractable prisoners. Many
Turks however prefer life in prison to life outside,
and refuse to leave. It is a home where they are
free from care, exempt from taxes, and from military
service. They avoid thus all duties of citizenship
and live like parasites upon their relatives or
upon any property to which they have a claim.</p>

<p>Theoretically all forms of physical punishment
are forbidden, though in every ancient prison the
old fetters are preserved, rusted and stiff to be sure,
but still painful. Where differences of race and
religion between prisoner and keeper appear they
are undoubtedly often used to make harder the lot
of the “infidel” or of the suspected conspirator.
While all charges of ill usage and torture made by
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span>
Armenian, Jew, or Greek can not be sustained,
there is a foundation of truth.</p>

<p>Some of the handcuffs are of iron, while others
are simply heavy blocks of wood with two grooves
for the wrists. When the heavy blocks are nailed
together, the arms are held in a most uncomfortable
position, and the obstructed circulation may cause
intense pain. The Reverend G. Thoumaian, an
Armenian clergyman, tells of wearing these handcuffs
for fifteen hours on the journey from Marsovan
to Chorum, and for five days thereafter.</p>

<p>He and his companion also wore iron collars,
connected by chains, for twenty-five days while in
prison at Chorum. Fetters are also worn, connected
by chains, and where the guards are especially brutal
or the prisoners are hated for any reason the latter
may be chained to the wall by neck and feet, sometimes
so closely that the irons cut into the flesh.</p>

<p>As is the case in Spain the convict warder flourishes
in Turkey. To him is sometimes confided the
other forms of torture. A prisoner from whom a
confession is desired may be taken to a lonely cell
where the lash is plied until blood collects in a huge
blister under the skin. This is punctured and intense
pain results as the raw surface comes in contact
with the air. Worse tales than this are told&mdash;of
prisoners hanged by the feet from a beam during
the beating, of naked prisoners thrust into cold cells
and drenched with icy water, and even of the application
of hot irons.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span></p>

<p>Finally Mr. Thoumaian declares that to his own
personal knowledge a severe torture was applied to
an acquaintance of his, a young graduate of Anatolia
College. The young man’s head was shaved,
and on the bare skin in a sensitive spot was placed
a nutshell filled with vermin. As they began to
struggle and tore deeper and deeper into the sensitive
nerves, the torture was exquisite. Sometimes
prisoners to whom this test is applied lose all control
of themselves and confess to participation in
any plot no matter how incredible, caring only for
the removal of the horrible pain.</p>

<p>These accounts all deal with the last years of
Abdul Hamid’s reign, when the demand for “free
Armenia” was strong, when Macedonia was restless,
and when the loyalty of large part of the army
was suspected. Prisoners charged with ordinary
crimes lived much the same lives as the inmates of
the Bagnio sixty years before, except perhaps that
they were better fed in the later years. Since the
accession of the new sultan, vigilance has been relaxed
so far as politics are concerned. Whether the
leopard has really changed his spots, and the Turk
has become humane is a question that only the
future can settle.</p>
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