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Show IN A BELGIAN PRISON.<br><br> Solitary imprisonment is in Belgium the unvarying rule for all convicted offenders who are mentally and physically sound. Short terms are endured in one or other of the many well planned, maisons d'arret throughout the country; but for the longer periods, varying from three and four to six, seven, eight, and even ten years, the Maison Centrale of Louvain is that set aside. Let us follow the condemned criminal into his living tomb. The steps taken on reception are much the same as elsewhere. His name is entered upon the books, he declares his religious belief, he hands over his private property, he is bathed, his hair and beard are cut close, he is clothed in the gray cloth prison dress, and conducted to the cell which will constitute his home for so many dreary years to come.<br><br> At first he is left to his own reflections; permission to work is only conceded when he himself petitions for it. This soon comes to pass, for a nervous feverish eagerness for employment is a marked characteristic in the solitary prisoner. It is even alleged that most of the suicides which have happened have been early on Monday morning, and following the long Sunday's idleness, which seemingly greatly aggravates depression of spirits. From the moment he has entered his cell he has been studied psychologically, by his custodians. Director, priest, school-master, contre-maitre, and trade instructor - all these have visited him, and have endeavored to become thoroughly acquainted with his character. These officials will now be his sole companions and friends. At intervals of every two months he will be permitted to converse with his relatives if they choose to visit him, but only in the parloir, or visiting cell, and in the presence of a warden. Intercourse with his comrade felons is absolutely denied him. When he issues from his cell, whether to shuffles over the smooth corridor in his list? slippers to his private box in the prison chapel, or to clatter down the passage in his wooden-soled sabots to the exercising yard, he invariably covers his head with his capuchon, or mask - a hideous contrivance in blue cotton with holes, through which his eyes glitter balefully. Communication by word or sign is rigorously forbidden, and is nearly impossible. At exercise each prisoner has a high-walled segment of a circle all to himself, one of several radiating from a common center, in, which stands a watchful warder. As the prisoner ranges slowly up and down it he might, but for the pipe he is smoking, be mistaken for some caged wild beast. Tobacco to smoke at exercise, or take as snuff in the cell, is one of the few luxuries greatly coveted and deeply appreciated at Louvain. Fresh air and exercise are limited to strict requirements; the rest of the day is passed by every prisoner in assiduous toil in his own private retreat. There is but little tendency to idleness or misconduct, yet "reports" are frequent, and for the slightest infraction of the rules. Absolute submission of will, the surrender of all volition, of all independence, is scrupulously exacted, but it is generally accomplished without the infliction of frequent punishments. Nor are these of a penal character; handcuffs, iron of all kinds, dark cells, straight jackets, have no place among Belgian disciplinary restraints. Reduction of diet, bread and water fare, the loss of privileges, of wages earned towards the purchase of better articles of food at the canteen - these are sufficient to keep Belgian prisoners well-behaved. Indeed, but for the one terrible infliction of continuous cellular separation, the rule is essentially mild. The warders are on friendly, almost familiar terms with their captives. "How goes it?" is the morning greeting. "Have you all you require? Do not hesitate to speak if we can do anything for you." The poor prisoner thus cheerily addressed will look up mournfully and merely shake his head. He cannot be very difficult to manage. All opposition, all obstinacy is pretty well crushed out of him. You enter the cell of a notorious malefactor, a quintuple murderer, one of whose victims was his own brother, whom he robbed, then poisoned, and you find a quiet, gentle creature, with shy manners and downcast eyes, who can hardly be prevailed upon to speak. The only life and movement seemingly left in him is in the nervous twitching of his hands - white, attenuated, but supple hands, which have dropped the needle he was so dexterously plying upon a pair of gray uniform overalls. This man has been about eight years in a cell. Next door is another, a soldier, an artillery man, who murdered his wife and cut her up into small pieces. He is equally quiet, but when spoken to will converse freely enough. He has been four years in this cell, and has apparently suffered no evil effects. Further on is another interesting case. A murderer who, having completed a long term of solitary imprisonment, was removed to Ghent, and permitted to associate with others like him, presently had a murderous affray with one of them, and killed his man. He was relegated again to separate confinement, and professes to prefer it greatly. He will tell you that he is now safe from the interference of others, that he can pray when he pleases, that if he is out of temper he cannot give his evil passions play, as he has done once too often already. He is very garrulous?, and in this, as in his feeble manner and somewhat wandering eye, betrays that he is perhaps a little weak in his mind. The impression is strengthened by the permission accorded him, seemingly, to amuse himself as best he can. He has a number of toys in his cell; clocks made of bits of cardboard, affixed to the wall near the window, and long pendulums which the wind turns. There is immense ingenuity displayed by prisoners in the construction of these childish playthings. One cell, occupied by a soldier who attempted to murder an officer of the Corps de Discipline to which he was attached, is full of them. The inventor and maker of these curious machines, a small, active man, who talks rapidly and vociferates much, is extremely proud of his show. These relaxations are harmless enough in themselves, but their concession proves that in some cases at least they are necessary. The prisoner thus humored may still be far from mental alienation, but he can hardly be considered of vigorous intellect. Whether he will still further deteriorate, in what number of cases idiocy or lunacy supervenes, are questions we naturally ask, and to which the Belgian authorities, by the production of well-authenticated figures can alone furnish the reply. - Harper's Weekly.<br><br> |