Chapter XLIV: Love's Daring

Castle on the Ohio,
Aug. 18, 1902.

MY DEAR CAROLUS:

You know the saying, "Der eine hat den Beutel, der andere das
Geld." I find it a difficult problem to keep in touch with my
correspondents. I have the leisure, but theirs is the advantage
of the paper supply. Thus runs the world. But you, a most
faithful correspondent, have been neglected a long while.
Therefore this unexpected _sub rosa_ chance is for you.

My dear boy, whatever your experiences since you left me, don't
fashion your philosophy in the image of disappointment. All life
is a multiplied pain; its highest expressions, love and
friendship, are sources of the most heart-breaking sorrow. That
has been my experience; no doubt, yours also. And you are aware
that here, under prison conditions, the disappointments, the
grief and anguish, are so much more acute, more bitter and
lasting. What then? Shall one seal his emotions, or barricade
his heart? Ah, if it were possible, it would be wiser, some
claim. But remember, dear Carl, mere wisdom is a barren life.

I think it a natural reaction against your prison existence that
you feel the need of self-indulgence. But it is a temporary
phase, I hope. You want to live and enjoy, you say. But surely
you are mistaken to believe that the time is past when we
cheerfully sacrificed all to the needs of the cause. The first
flush of emotional enthusiasm may have paled, but in its place
there is the deeper and more lasting conviction that permeates
one's whole being. There come moments when one asks himself the
justification of his existence, the meaning of his life. No
torment is more excruciating and overwhelming than the failure
to find an answer. You will discover it neither in physical
indulgence nor in coldly intellectual pleasure. Something more
substantial is needed. In this regard, life outside does not
differ so very much from prison existence. The narrower your
horizon--the more absorbed you are in your immediate
environment, and dependent upon it--the sooner you decay,
morally and mentally. You can, in a measure, escape the
sordidness of life only by living for something higher.

Perhaps that is the secret of my survival. Wider interests have
given me strength. And other phases there are. From your own
experience you know what sustaining satisfaction is found in
prison in the constant fight for the feeling of human dignity,
because of the constant attempt to strangle your sense of
self-respect. I have seen prisoners offer most desperate
resistance in defence of their manhood. On my part it has been a
continuous struggle. Do you remember the last time I was in the
dungeon? It was on the occasion of Comrade Kropotkin's presence
in this country, during his last lecture tour. The old Warden
was here then; he informed me that I would not be permitted to
see our Grand Old Man. I had a tilt with him, but I did not
succeed in procuring a visiting card. A few days later I
received a letter from Peter. On the envelope, under my name,
was marked, "Political prisoner." The Warden was furious. "We
have no political prisoners in a free country," he thundered,
tearing up the envelope. "But you have political grafters," I
retorted. We argued the matter heatedly, and I demanded the
envelope. The Warden insisted that I apologize. Of course I
refused, and I had to spend three days in the dungeon.

There have been many changes since then. Your coming to
Pittsburgh last year, and the threat to expose this place (they
knew you had the facts) helped to bring matters to a point. They
assigned me to a range, and I am still holding the position. The
new Warden is treating me more decently. He "wants no trouble
with me," he told me. But he has proved a great disappointment.
He started in with promising reforms, but gradually he has
fallen into the old ways. In some respects his regime is even
worse than the previous one. He has introduced a system of
"economy" which barely affords us sufficient food. The dungeon
and basket, which he had at first abolished, are in operation
again, and the discipline is daily becoming more drastic. The
result is more brutality and clubbings, more fights and cutting
affairs, and general discontent. The new management cannot plead
ignorance, for the last 4th of July the men gave a demonstration
of the effects of humane treatment. The Warden had assembled
the inmates in the chapel, promising to let them pass the day in
the yard, on condition of good behavior. The Inspectors and the
old guards advised against it, arguing the "great risk" of such
a proceeding. But the Major decided to try the experiment. He
put the men on their honor, and turned them loose in the yard.
He was not disappointed; the day passed beautifully, without the
least mishap; there was not even a single report. We began to
breathe easier, when presently the whole system was reversed. It
was partly due to the influence of the old officers upon the
Warden; and the latter completely lost his head when a trusty
made his escape from the hospital. It seems to have terrorized
the Warden into abandoning all reforms. He has also been
censured by the Inspectors because of the reduced profits from
the industries. Now the tasks have been increased, and even the
sick and consumptives are forced to work. The labor bodies of
the State have been protesting in vain. How miserably weak is
the Giant of Toil, because unconscious of his strength!

The men are groaning, and wishing Old Sandy back. In short,
things are just as they were during your time. Men and Wardens
may come and go, but the system prevails. More and more I am
persuaded of the great truth: given authority and the
opportunity for exploitation, the results will be essentially
the same, no matter what particular set of men, or of
"principles," happens to be in the saddle.

Fortunately I am on the "home run." I'm glad you felt that the
failure of my application to the Superior Court would not
depress me. I built no castles upon it. Yet I am glad it has
been tried. It was well to demonstrate once more that neither
lower courts, pardon boards, nor higher tribunals, are
interested in doing justice. My lawyers had such a strong case,
from the legal standpoint, that the State Pardon Board resorted
to every possible trick to avoid the presentation of it. And now
the Superior Court thought it the better part of wisdom to
ignore the argument that I am being illegally detained. They
simply refused the application, with a few meaningless phrases
that entirely evade the question at issue.

Well, to hell with them. I have "2 an' a stump" (stump, 11
months) and I feel the courage of perseverance. But I hope that
the next legislature will not repeal the new commutation law.
There is considerable talk of it, for the politicians are angry
that their efforts in behalf of the wealthy U. S. grafters in
the Eastern Penitentiary failed. They begrudge the "common"
prisoner the increased allowance of good time. However, I shall
"make" it. Of course, you understand that both French leave and
Dutch act are out of the question now. I have decided to
stay--till I can _walk_ through the gates.

In reference to French leave, have you read about the Biddle
affair? I think it was the most remarkable attempt in the
history of the country. Think of the wife of the Jail Warden
helping prisoners to escape! The boys here were simply wild with
joy. Every one hoped they would make good their escape, and old
Sammy told me he prayed they shouldn't be caught. But all the
bloodhounds of the law were unchained; the Biddle boys got no
chance at all.

The story is this. The brothers Biddle, Jack and Ed, and Walter
Dorman, while in the act of robbing a store, killed a man. It
was Dorman who fired the shot, but he turned State's evidence.
The State rewards treachery. Dorman escaped the noose, but the
two brothers were sentenced to die. As is customary, they were
visited in the jail by the "gospel ladies," among them the wife
of the Warden. You probably remember him--Soffel; he was Deputy
Warden when we were in the jail, and a rat he was, too. Well, Ed
was a good-looking man, with soft manners, and so forth. Mrs.
Soffel fell in love with him. It was mutual, I believe. Now
witness the heroism a woman is capable of, when she loves. Mrs.
Soffel determined to save the two brothers; I understand they
promised her to quit their criminal life. Every day she would
visit the condemned men, to console them. Pretending to read the
gospel, she would stand close to the doors, to give them an
opportunity to saw through the bars. She supplied them with
revolvers, and they agreed to escape together. Of course, she
could not go back to her husband, for she loved Ed, loved him
well enough never even to see her children again. The night for
the escape was set. The brothers intended to separate
immediately after the break, subsequently to meet together with
Mrs. Soffel. But the latter insisted on going with them. Ed
begged her not to. He knew that it was sheer suicide for all of
them. But she persisted, and Ed acquiesced, fully realizing that
it would prove fatal. Don't you think it showed a noble trait in
the boy? He did not want her to think that he was deserting her.
The escape from the jail was made successfully; they even had
several hours' start. But snow had fallen, and it was easy to
trace two men and a woman in a sleigh. The brutality of the
man-hunters is past belief. When the detectives came upon the
boys, they fired their Winchesters into the two brothers. Even
when the wounded were stretched on the ground, bleeding and
helpless, a detective emptied his revolver into Ed, killing him.
Jack died later, and Mrs. Soffel was placed in jail. You can
imagine the savage fury of the respectable mob. Mrs. Soffel was
denounced by her husband, and all the good Christian women cried
"Unclean!" and clamored for the punishment of their unfortunate
sister. She is now here, serving two years for aiding in the
escape. I caught a glimpse of her when she came in. She has a
sympathetic face, that bears signs of deep suffering; she must
have gone through a terrible ordeal. Think of the struggle
before she decided upon the desperate step; then the days and
weeks of anxiety, as the boys were sawing the bars and preparing
for the last chance! I should appreciate the love of a woman
whose affection is stronger than the iron fetters of convention.
In some ways this woman reminds me of the Girl--the type that
possesses the courage and strength to rise above all
considerations for the sake of the man or the cause held dear.
How little the world understands the vital forces of life!

A.