Evening Star Newspaper, January 11, 1896, Page 19

_—_—o————— A FRENCH PRISON Said to Be the Worst Conducted in the World. ONE DAY WITHIN ITS WALLS Why the Prisoners Are in a Chronic State of Hunger. THE CONTRACTORS’ PROFIT Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, December 30, i805. HERE ARE SIX prisons in Paris be- sides the depot (the great central station, as it is called, al- though its service is raost complicated), the conclergerie (used as a smaller depot for the convenience of the courts of assizes and appeals), and the military prison, which is an estab- lishment quite apart. ‘These six prisons are Mazas, Sainte-Pelagie, Saint-Lazare, the Sante, and the Crande and the Little Roquette. Mazas was originally a prison established to make a trial of the solitary confinement system (known throughout Europe as the Philadelphia plan). This purpose ts now abandoned, and Mazas remains technically “a house of preventive detentioa.” Pre- ventive detention, in Francs, means the holding of an accused person for months before his trial—which may never come off. And Mazas Is no other than a modern fr- responsible Bastille to serve the present governors of France. It Is able to hold 1,260 detenus, each in a separate cell. ‘The prison of Sainte-Pelagie, with a ca- pacity for 650 prisoners, is supposed to re- ceive (a) journalists, condemned for politi- cal or other improper writings; (b) prisoners for debt (in cases where such imprison- ment still exists), for non-payment of fines and frauds on government monopolies; (c) THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 11, 1896-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. heating apparatus, even in the coldest win- ter; ms are undermanned and overworked; there is no attendant physi- cian—a doctor comes in for an hour a day; every library book has lost pages, the library itself only numbering 250 volumes; the compulsory education supposed to be laid down by law has been suppressed; and the sanitary conditions are those of a badly kept prison of the middle ages. Every one is hungry at the Grande Ro- quette—hungry while they work; hungry while they sleep. The clock has but to strike the hour of 3 p.m. and you shall see them tremble, starting to their feet, poor white-faced rogues. It is the dinner hour— Entrance to La Grande Roquette. the one meal of the day besides the soup. Now the newcomers merge into the general prison type. At the tail of the procession they march to the church. It is across a great square, open courtyard, and the wooden shoes which all must wear clang in @ resonant unison across the Belgian-block- laid waste. Into the church of God they clatter. The sacred edifice is filled with rickety, narrow tables, each witn a dozen round tin basins filled with lukewarm beans or other vegetable. The altar is hid- den by a canopy, removed on Sundays. They take their seats and tin basins In silence. ‘There is a moment's pause, and then begins the clatter of the wooden spoons. For each prisoner, for his sole outfit, is furnished with (a) a wooden spoon, (b).a rougt towel, and (c) a red bandana handkerchief. The food of this one meal varies. Some days it is a dish of beans—red beans. Other days it is rice, lentils or a generous mass of scraps. On Sundays only is a hunk of cold boiled meat thrown into the beany mess. Meat once a week. At this dinner the other food is WAITING ROOM. and prisoners of ordinary justice, condemn- na year. In S te- @ three classes are kept sep- with a separate regime for eac Lazare is exclusive- is a comparati the only It holds 450 pris- terms of less than <te is a prison for with a capacity of 450. And the y squette, technically “the depot of aned,” is put down in the guide di their transferrence to or to the penal ew Caledonia. as it is per- worst con in the atement of che life led in it may Deprived of Tebaeco. rs first day at the Grande Roquet lest day th his first purchase on his release, uufficient consolation. ins with the last cigarette. His e ends—with the first cigarette, is first For eve that the French prisoner feels th. lack of tobacco more acutely than the cold, the harsh treatment, the bad food. All these he may accustom limself to; but the dream of the fragrant narcotic vill po: him by @ay and night for months, and he will make excuses to talk at close quarters with the brutal gardien himself to gain a filthy whiff of caporal- stained breath. The new prisoners are heddled in an- ether bleak, dark prison room, inside the Grande Roquette. Hours pass’ waile they wait the convenience of bookkeepers and searchers. One by one they are called out, identified by cursory head-measurement, made to acknowledge that the account of the money found on them {Is correct, gearched, stripped and reclothed. Those having less than a month of prison to do are given liberty to continue en civil, all others must don prison clothes, shapeless, of rough brown stuff, to be taken in or let out for the individual by the prison sewing man. They are marched to a shower bath, then marched to the central work shop, alting for a Visit. where, to make a Roquette holiday, they are both shaved and clipped, this in the Presence of, 200 other prisoners. Those ing less than a month are again shown favor. They keep their hair. Here there is nothing of the completeness and smartness of an American pri 3 t ere the shaving is stove whose fire is = going out—is a leprous little hall, taintel with bad air and the accumulated filth of decade Two hundred prisoners are camped so closely together that they each other’s work. It is the mark Grand Roquette throughout. Eat in the Church, The Grand Roquette, of which the wowd has heard so much in connection with the present-day guillotine, is nothing but an old barracks iransformed in the most scrimpy Way into its modern use. It has not even a rain-protected promenade for the forced walks of the day; it has no dining room— the prisoners must eat in the church, be- side the altar; the sleeping cells have no bread. Each prisoner receives a heavy round loaf of black barley-and-rye in the morn- ing on leaving his cell door. If he eats It all up in the morning, there is nothing left for noon or night. Actually, each prisoner carries his loaf with him, never quitting it throughout the day, at work, at the lav- atory, in the promenades, at meal time and going to bed at night. For one must keep a little plece, at least, for night when you ke up hungry. ‘The Conirnctors’ Benefit. The cantine service of the prisons of Paris {s all In the same hands, and if it does not pay the contractors handsomely, it is a pity, for it is hard to imagine a more dishonorable business. (1.) The gov- ernment provides the prisons, pays the rders and clerks. (2.) A contractor agrees to feed the prisoners at his own charge in return for the privilege of proflt- ing by their labor. fore he jobs out their work, be mousetraps, cleaning ostrich '@ cheap books or what not. i therefore, earn their food, on the fece of things. But the law, which is benevolent even to the criminal, desires more than this for It says the prison- er shall be given in money a portion of what he earns. First convictions are to have half what they earn, the other half to go to their nutrition. Old offenders have three-tenths of what they earn. Further- more, the money thus due to the prisoner is to be divided, half to serve his needs for lit- tle luxuries while in jail, half to be saved up for him against the time of his release— in order that the state may not be obliged to give him help. Here is a drain on the contractor. The problem is to get back again the few cents a day forcibly paid to the prisoner. (4) Therefore the cantine. In theory it is a species of cheap prison restaurant, run without profit, destined to sweeten the ex- istence of the unfortunate and encourage him in well-doing» Practically—by the re- duction of the given rations to a less than life-supporting minimum, it becomes the prisoner's necessity for meat. In the book- binding department, which is the best paid, the most expert workmen can earn only eight cents a day. Of this he may spend four at a cantine. A veal stew costs six cents. You may believe it that the prisoners all work well at the Grand Roquette. By 3:30 p.m. the dinner is over, and the prisoners are promenading. The Grande Roquette is constructed in the style of all old infantry barracks—four narrow build- ings form a hollow square, which makes a vast interior drill court. The Grande Ro- quette is simply this, with the addition of a wall. In the drill court the prisoners are promenading, four hundred men with hands untied, armed with heavy wooden shoes, which are weapons in themselves, not to speak of the heavy files and other tools of the iron and brass-working ateliers. To guard them there are but four guardians and a brigadier. There are not twenty po- lice, guardians and soldiers in the whole establishment. economy. Every eye is on the clock, for the half hour to pass; for they are underfed and wish to get back to the warm work shop. Clang! clang the bell. They march in va- rious ranks into four doors. And the new prisoners at the tail are halted. The hours pars on, the lights are lit, and it is always work, work, work. The Long Nights. Seven p. m. sounds, with the order to stop work. The convicts leave regretfully in winter time, but joyfully in summer. Be- cause, in the astounding system of the Grande Roquette, the prisoner has not a moment for reading cr other self improve- ment except that gained in his cell. These cells are never lighted. At 7 o'clock in the northern climate of Paris it will still continue light enough to read for two hours and a half. In winter, on the other hand, it Is dark at 4 No difference is made on account of this at the Depot des Condamnes of Paris. It is now winter, and they go to bed in the dark, lying on their beds twelve hours out of each twenty-four. There is nothing else to do, because the cells are too small to walk about in, and it is too cold to sim- ply sit up and stare into the darkness. The building is so damp that it is the prac- tice tv make up one’s bed with the coarse sheets on the outside, as you can almost wring the water from them. Dampness trickles down the walls sufficiently to wet your hand. The more knowing resort to “making a boat of the bed,” which is real- ly a kind of bunk. They take out the slats each night, let the straw mattress down ii to a shallow bath-tub-like cavity, so protect- ing themselves from the wind that blows in gusts through the warped window wood The French are lovers of work, and managing to keep their two nar- = fer from falling off them in the nigi The hours strike, and the winter night crawls on. Habit causes the convicts to fall asleep by 8 or 9 o'clock, but on the other hand all seem to wake up near the hour of 3 a.m., by reason of the cold. Then there begins the nightly hubbub, of calls here and there, rude jests, cries, curses * * * If the men had this spirit all together in the daily promenade, it would be a bad sign for the wardens, and it would not be long before the Grande Roquette saw such another revolt as was witnessed in 1896. But with the day th prestige of authority returns. + Glad to See Daylight. The prisoners are unlocked from their cells at 7 a.m. They do not wash. The towels given to them for that purpose are found to be more conveniently used as mufflers. Congratulating each other on the return of day, the prisoners straggle in a weak-kneed rank past the bread distributor into the work shops. From 7 till 9 a.m. it is work— on bread and water. At 9 o’clock they take soup in the church. It is vegetable soup, the vegetables being thin slices of turnip, car- rots and onions, in small quantity, Actu- ally it is hot water fiavored and made greasy with a certain amount of fat. And then he- gins another promenade of half an hour. The prisoners are back in their work shops. At noon a halt of half an hour fs call- ed, for the eating of bread. Such cantine delicacies as the more fortunate possess are consumed at this hour as well. There is a stretching of backs and a hasty glancing at library books. Then it is work again till 3 p.m., with dinner—hbeans—and so the new- comer’s first day at the Grande Roquette is terminated. Every other day will be the same, be he there for three months or years. STERLING HEILIG. sae MYSTERY OF GEARS, Machines Too Highly Geared Are Often a Strain to Riders. From tke New York Times. ‘The comparative ratings of gears, as ex- pressed in the present manner, are @ sur- vival of the old high wheels, the diameters of which varied from thirty-six inches up- ward, and in comparing which riders de- scribed their mounts by the diameter of the driving wheel. 4 When the “safety,” as the present form of bicycles was then called, was first intro- duced, a common ground, by which the dis- tance covered by the machine in response to one revolution of the foot, became the universal measure. Thus, a safety “geared to fifty’’ equaled in point of progression a fifty-inch high wheel for one foot revolution. The gear of a bicycle is ascertained by dividing the number of sprockets on the rear hub by the sprockets on the driving crank, and multiplying the diameter of the rear wheel by the result. This result, multiplied by 3.1416, gives the distance traveled by one foot revolution in inches. The proportions of length of crank to ra- dius (half the diameter) of the imgginary wheel, expressed by the gear, express the leverage. In argument, I once made use of the ex- pression that a sixty-five gear with a six- and-a-half-inch crank was, other things be- ing equal, the mechanical equivalent of an eighty gear with eight-inch crank. These comparisons have since become the subject of much discussion in the cycling papers, but have become a sort of standard of com- parison. For the benefit of the novices and of those who have never given the subject any thought, I will briefly explain them: A six-and-a-half-inch pedal crank stands in relation to a sixty-five-inch gear (2% radius) as I to 5. Ergo, each one inch of foot travel causes five inches of progression. In the eight-inch crank and eighty gear the relation is the same. The difference be- tween the two is simply this, that a very tall man could use an eight-inch crank with proportionately the same effort as a small man could a six-and-a-half crank. In pedal cranks the same rule applies as in walking—the tall man, with the long, swinging stride, can use a long pedal crank, and a higher gear; the short man, with a short step, must use the short pedal crank and lower gear. On the part of practiced riders there is a tendency to higher gears. This tendency has its various causes. It has been said seriously that high gears are a great strain upon the frame of a bi- cycle. Per se, this is not the case. They do strain the rider at times, and they are only advisable for robust and practiced riders— and then only for the very best roads and in level countries. By high gears I mean those from eighty upward. As a whole, the question of size of gear to adopt seems to he more puzzling than which wheel to buy. The fact is, that there is no “best ge A gear suiting a certain per- son at a certain time is just the one he does not want the following day, because of any of several causes—hiils, sandy roads, wind, heat, or the fact that he is not at par that day. The idea! gear lies yet In the future—ideal things generally do. The best gear would be a variable one, so constructed that with- out any complica additional weight, or friction, it woulc any gear at any moment that the rider might want. It has not yet been made, and it will not be tor some time. +o+-—___—_. WEARING GLOVES. A Texan Explains Why the Prize Fight Did Not Come Om. From the Inter-Ocean. ‘They tell a rather good story on a mem- ber of the directory of the State Fair Asso- ciation of Dallas, Texas. On October 31 last, it will be remembered, the “fight that failed” at Hot Springs, Ark., was or! ally billed for Dallas. Just outside the fence which forms the fair grounds in that city the big amphitheater, almost com- pleted, reared its towering sides. The fair was on, but the attendance was very small. It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and the director was showing a friend over the place, when the following colloquy took lace: »Pirector—There it stands, just outside the fence, and if the governor and his puritani- cal legislators had not stopped that fight we would have had an attendance of 100,000 here today. Friend—Indeed! Director—Yes, sir; the calling together of the legislature in extra session and the passing of that anti-fight ill cost Dallas and the state of Texas at least $2,000,000, Friend—How is that? Director—Well, if Culberson had not in- terfered we would have had 50,000 strangers here to see the fights, and each of these would have spent on «h average $40 during their stay. There you are! Friend—That's too bad. Director—It's worse than that. Heigh-ho! It is useless, though, to try and educate people up to the niceties of a glove contest in a community where they don’t wear gloves! ss Proof of Insanity. From the Chicago Post. The attorney for the defense became im- pressive. é “Do you ask proof that my client is in- sane?” he asked, “Well, there is plenty of it. When he caine to engage my services he promised me $10,000 if I would take the case, und yet he hasn't a cent. Is that the act of the saae man?” “Did you know that when you took the case?” asked the attorney for the prosecu- tion. ‘ertainly.” Well, { can’t see that that helps him in any way, but it would make a gplendid plea for you, If you were on trial.” And the court so ruled. ———_-+e+ Agree to Differ. From the Erie (Pa.) Messenger. Old Greybeard—‘Tt's a pity to keep such a pretty bird in a cage.” Mrs. De Style—“Isn't it a shame? How pene, exquisitely lovely it would look on a hat!” The Professor (awakening)—“Is there any- body in this room?” “No, sir.” “Oh, I thought there was.” Falls asleep again.—Life. 19 STANTON IN PEACE His Confidential Clerk Tells of His Views, of: Reconstruction. sh ve LINCOLN'S ONLY ACTS ON THE SUBJECT War Departinght Orders in Regard to the Richmond Clergy. THE POLICK OF JOHNSON ase pgs, Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. “The honorablest pact of talk is to give the ot- casion, and again to moderate, and to pass—to change to somewhat else, for then a man leads the dance.”"—Bacon. It. was not Secretary Stanton’s aim to shine, but whether in war or in peace he led the dance. In my former chapters in The Star I have shown some of Mr. Stan- ten’s leadership in war. In this chapter I propose to show him at the critical mo- ment of peace,-as 4 leader in thé problem of reconstructing the southern governments which were shattered by the war. It is important to understard that the matter which challenged the attention and the wisdom cf the statesmen of the coun- try when the war was over was ‘the res- toration of the seceded states to the Union as one sovereign nation. In this work a great struggle between the executive and the legislative branckes of the govern- ment, for two yesrs, kept the nation in a convulsed condition. The people of the north, led by Mr. Stanton, held that re- construction could only be effected by the consent of the federal legislature, and that the seceded states were not entitled to rep- resentation in Congress, except under amended ccnstitutions, which had received the sanction of Congress. President Johnson’s plan was the op- pesite; that is, that the rebellion, having been put down, the states were all equally entitled to representation in Congress and without any change in the basis of representation under the new con- ditions. On this plan he undertook to restore the southern states to the Union, and he advised Congress when it met that he had done so. He held that the acts of secession were null and void; that the states in rebellion had never been out of the Union, and therefore were entitled to send Representatives to Congress. The north was demanding that the Presi- dent assemble Congress; that it was his imperative duty to invoke the wisdom of Congress in the problem of bringing back the dismembered states into the Union—the states the governments of which had been swept away by the whirlwind cf rebellion and were in ruins; the states in which the courts were outlawed, end within which millions of people were in a condition of anarchy. The wisest statesmanship should have quickly placed the interests of peace, and ali the vital, delicate and’ difficult ques- tions, requiring grave deliberation and in- volving the exercise of the highest govern- mental powers, fn the hands of Congress. But this mighty task President Johnson boldly undertook’ single- handed, and he directed the reorganization of these eleven states, so that their Representatives could be in Washington when Congress as- sembled—a perio? of six or seven months. The Gonflict Begins. All this was fone without intending to consult the paramount branch of the gov- ernment. When ,Congress met the bitter fight commenced. Seeing the inevitable con- flict, the southern Representatives did not come to Washington to claim their seats in Congress. They saw and felt the storm the President had raised. One of the strangest things is that the result could not have been foreseen from the beginning. Congress at once asserted its power to determine the form and the character of the governments of these states, and the basis of their representa- tion in Congress, and declared that no Senator or Representative should be ad- mitted into ‘eizter ‘branch of Congress from the states in rebéilion antil Congress should have determined in what manner such states should be entitled to such represen- tation, At this legislation the President be- came fierce ané fiery against Congress, and the conflict grew in intensity. What could have controlled President Johnson to have turned upon Congress and the party that elected him is one of the mysteries of that turbulent period. The President's fight turned with vengeance upon Secretary Stanton, and soon involved Gen. Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, and the whole army—all against the President. If there ever was a time in the history of this country when Congress should have been embled in extra session it was at the e of the war, Up to a certain time President Johnson and all his cabinet were in accord with Secretary Stanton, whose plan_ provided that the secejed states shculd have pro- visional governments to give order, to re- store business interests to the people, and to aid in re-establishing the constitutional relations of the states with the general government. In this harmonious relation it is a fact that all understeod that all the proceedings of the President and of these states were to be subject to the approval and final determination of Congress before any state would be admitted to representa- ticn. In a little while all this was changed. The President had determined upon a plan of his own, and the sounds of the thunder frcm the north rolled around the White House. The President became the leader of the seceded states, and Mr. Stanton became the leader of the federal government and its legislative power. In this bitter fight Ccngress won; it reversed and wiped out everything that was done by President Johnson and the states, but Mr. Stanton was sacrificed. Lincoln’s Richmond Experiment. The very day of the fall of Richmond President Lincoln went there and met and had a conference with a prominent citizen, which resulted in the following permit and crder which Mr. Lincoln gave Gen. Weitzel, then in command in that city: “It has been intimated to me that the gentlemen who have acted as the legis- lature of Virginia in support of the rebel- lion may now desire to assemble at Rich- mond and take measures to withdraw the Virginia troops and othe. support from re- sistance to the general government. If they attempt it, give them permission and protection until, if at all, they attempt some action hostile to the United States, in which case you will notify them, give them reasonable time to leave, and at the end of which time arrest any who remain. Allow Judge Campbell to see this, but do not make it public.” Acting upon this permit and a memoran- dum given him by the President, Judge Camptell called a committee of citizens to- gether for conference on the subject. Gen- eral Weitzel, under ‘what he conceived to be the authority of the President, published in the Richmondrpapers a call for the meet- ing of the Virginia legislature. In Judge Campbell's conference with the committee he advised them off the President's memo- randum to him.andof his suggestions as to the establishment of government for Vir- ginia and of the terms of settlement with the United States, that they were to deter- mine. In this; the governor and the lieu- tenant governor ofsthe state were to take part, and all the, ¢onditions and difficult problems of reconstruction were to be sub- mitted to such legislature. Two of the conditions of the President's permit were that the legislature should re- call ard disband the Virginia armies, and the authority of the United States should be restored over the whole state. Judge Campbell, finding that this task was too great for hi agement, at once wrote General iweltedb thet Richmond, being then under the mil control of the United States, and -the;’confederate government havirg made no provision for the possibility of its failure, its functionaries did not un- derstand how they could negotiate for the subversion or overthrow of their govern- tent; that the legislature could not with- draw their troops without consulting the president (Jefferson Davis) and the army. Judge Campbell proposed an armistice to allow him to advise with the legislature of Soutn Carolina and to obtain Rer participa- tion in the graye questions that would re- quire settlement at Richmond.% The Richmond Clergy. Of the President's conversations with Judge Campbell, and the latter's written statements to the committee and to Gen- eral Weitzel, Mr. Stanton had been fully advised by Assistant Secretary of War ch Dana, then at Richmond, and he saw in it endless trouble with the Virginia legisla- ture, at the moment when peace and quiet was so near. This was before the Presi- dent’s return. Coupled with this matter of the assembling of the Virginia legislature, Mr. Dana had advised the Secretary that General Weitzel had allowed the clergy of the Episcopal Church to omit the prayer for the President of the United States, at the suggcstion of Judge Campbell, as a matter of policy. That first Sunday after the fall of Richmond all the churches were filled, the ladies attending in great numbers, and the sermons were devout and not political. Mr. Stanton was hoping for an opportu- nity to deal with General Weitzel in the Virginia legislature matter, which was then absorbing all his thovghts, and he seized the occasion of the clergy’s indignity to the President of the United States. On that very Sunday night Mr. Stanton sent a tele- gram to General Weitzel that he was un- witling to believe that a general officer of the United States army, commanding at Richmond, would consent that_ service should be performed in the Episcopal churches that day without the usual prayer said in loyal churches of that denomination for the President of the United States, and called upon him for an immediate report of his action; and also of what took place be- tween him and Judge Campbell on the sub- ject, and commanded him to hold no further conference with Judge Campbell on any subject without authority to be given by the President or by the Secretary of War. The Secretary meant this to be a revoca- ! tion of the President's order given to Weit- zel to permit the Virginia legislature to as- semble. The Secretary directed that if Campbell had any communication to make, Weitzel must send them to the War De- partment for instructions. To this Weitzel advised the Secretary that he had had a holograph order from the President, by which he was compelled to hold conference with Judge Campbell on a certain subject, but did not tell the subject, and asked if he must stop such conferences. At the same time General Weitzel reported his action as to the clergy. Mr. Stanton’s Position. Mr. Stanton advised him that his expla- nation as to the clergy was not satisfactory, and that he was expected to require from all religious denominations in that city, in regard to their rituals and prayers, no less respect for the President of the United States than they practiced toward the rebel chief, Jefferson Davis, before he was driven from the capital. Mr. Stanton did not an- swer Weitzel’s question if he should dis- regard the President’s order in relation to Campbell. His peremptory decree had gone out. It was the omega of the business. The President went to Richmond to extend the olive branch of peace; to tell the people that he was ready to kill the fatted calf for them if they would only come home; he went there with a soul noble and lofty, full of goodness and of justice. Mr. Stanton, knowing this of his great chief, could not brook the contempt the clergy of the church of his own faith were ready to extend to the President for policy’s sake. He expected that they would at least be equal to the President in the Christian qualities which elevate man, which make him both noble and great. To him such insult to his chief was indefensible, and the conduct of his subordinate, as a party to it, roused in the Secretary a feeling that caused him to re- buke his subordinate and at the same time teach the clergy of his church, under whose ritual he worshiped, that the War Depart- ment expected of them proper respect for the President of the United States. The President having returned to Wash- ington, Mr. Stanton sought the assistance of Attorney General Speed, and together they went to the White House early on the morning of the 12th of April, 1865, to confer with the President about the assembling of the Virginia legislature. Soon after the President sent the telegfam to Weitzel be- fore referred to, asking if there was any sign of the rebel legislature coming together on the understanding of his letter and per- mit, and if there was such sign to inform him what it was, but if there was none then to withdraw the permit. In the afternoon of that day about 5 o’clcck the President came over to the War Department, and it was while sitting on the sofa in the Secretary’s room, looking south and toward my desk, that Mr. Stan- ton teld the President why he should not turn over the determination of such grave matters to the Virginia legislature. It was then that Mr, Stanton again urged his plea that the reorganization of the seceded states should be under federal authority. Stanton’s Appenl to Caesar. He told the President that the con- queror and not the conquered should con- trol the state in the matter which was vital for all time; that to place such powers in the Virginia legislature would be giving away the scepter of the conqueror; that it would be to transfer the results of the vic- of our arms from the field to the very atures which four years before said ive us war;” that it would put the goy- ernment in the hands of its enemies; that it would surely bring trouble with Con- gress; that the people would not sustain him; that it would disturb the harmony be- tween the executive and Congress; that re- construction would have to deal with the new condition of things, and among which would be a change in the basis of represen- tation, now that all the blacks were free; that it would have to deal with the debts of the federal and of the confederate go ernments; that in all this the uther 1 res would be in the ascendancy, the political power of the south in- cr ; that the fate of the emancipated millions would be ‘solely under the control of such legislatures; that the results of the war would go for nothing if those resuits were to be determined by the enemies of the government; that it would bebetter to have nothing to do with the rebel legisla- tires; .hat the Virginia legislature was dead, and could not again assemble at Richmond without permission of the gov- ernment, and to use such powers to give life to a dead legislature would bring end- less trouble to the government and to re- construction; that, in fact, it would defeat zeny -reconstruction,because Congress would not sanction any government that would be established by it; that, being once assem- bled, its deliberations could not be confined to any specific acts, and that to disperse it would produce another rebellion; that the Virginia legislature should be ignored even in the capacity of its members as citizens for any purpose, In pleading with the President, I can now see the Secretary, earnest and full of feel- ing, and the President listening in profound thought, saying not a word. The Secreta- ry’s manner was not that of attempting to rule the President, it was pursuasive; it was not his usual manner, it was argu- irentative; it was an appeal to intelligence and to judgment. It was an appeal to Caesar, On this occasion the President had ro story to illustrate his position or that of his Secretary. It was a solemn occasion, and upon that interview hung the destiny of reconstruction, the peace of Richmond and orderly government for the southern people. Mr. Stanton prevailed, and the President wrote and sent to Gen. Weitzel the follow- ing telegram, which was the last he ever wrote: President Lincoln's Last Telegram. “I have just seen Judge Campbell's let- ter to you of the 7th. He assumes, as ap- pears to me, that I have called the insur- gent legislature of Virginia together, as the rightful legislature of that state, to settle all differences with the United States. I have done no such thing. I spoke of them not as a legislature, but as ‘the gen- tlemen who have acted as the legislature of Virginia in support of the rebellion.’ 1 did this on purpose to exclude the assump- tion thate I was recognizing them as a rightful body. I dealt with them as men having power de facto to do a_ specific thing, to wit—to withdraw the Virginia troops and other support from resistance to the general government, for which, in the paper handed Judge Campbell, I prom- ised a specific equivalent, to wit—a remis- sion to the people of the state, except in certain cases, of the confiscation of their property. I meant this and no more. In- asmuch, however, as Judge Campbell mis- construes this, and is still pressing for an armistice, contrary to the explicit state- ment of the paper I gave him, and particu- larly as Gen. Grant has since captured the Virginia troops, so that giving a consid- eration for their withdrawal is no longer applicable, let my letter to you and the paper to Judge Campbell both be with- drawn or countermanded, and he be noti- fied of it. Do not allow them to assemble; but, if any have come, allow them safe re- turn to their homes.” : The history of this telegram is important to show Secretary Stanton’s leadership in the problem of reconstruction, and this history I shall give in a subsequent chapter in his own conversations. I think, how- ever, it would make this chapter more com- plete and satisfactory to know what were President Lincoln's last utterances on this great matter of reconstruction. The Last Public Address of Linenin. On the night of the 11th of April, 1865, at the upper window from the White House port-cochere, he said: “We meet this evening, not in sorrow, but in gladness of heart. The evacuation of Petersburg and Richmond, and the sur- render of the principal insurgent army, give hope of a righteous and speedy peace, whose joyous expression cannot be restrained. In the midst of this, however, He from whom all blessings flow must not be forgotten. Nor must those whose harder part give us the cause of rejoicing be overlooked. By these recent successes the reinavguration of the national authority—reconstruction— which had a large share of thougiit from the first, is pressed more clos:ly upon our attention. It is fraught with great difficulty. Unlike a case of war between independent nations, there is no authorized organ for us to treat with—no one man has authority to give up the rebellion for any other man. We must simply begin with and mold from disorganized ani discordant elements. Nor is it a small additional em- barrassment that we, the loyal people, dif- fer among ourselves as to the mode, man- ner and measure of reconstruction.” He spoke of his Louisiana plan of reor- ganization which had been in operation, and said that it contemplated no right to say when or whether members should be admit- ted to seats in Congress from such states. Referring to the question whether the se- ceded states were in the Union or out of it, he said it appeared to him that that ques- tion had not been, ror yet was, a practical- jy material one, and that any discussion of it, while it thus remains practically imma- terial, could have no effect other than the mischievous one of dividing our frien yet, whatever it may hereafter that question is bad as the basis of a cot troversy, and good for nothing at all, a merely pernicious abstraction. That it was agreed that the seceded states, so called, were out of their proper practical relation with the Union, and that the sole object of the government, civil and military, in re- gard to those states, was to again get them into that proper practical relation. He believed that tt was not only possi- ble, but, in fact, easieg to do this without deciding or even ccnsidering whether these states have ever bien out of the Union than with it. Finding themselves safely at home, it would be utterly immaterial whether they had ever been abroad. That all should join in doing the acts necessary to restoring the proper practical relatiqns between these states and the Union, and that each one could forever after inno- cently indulge his own opinion whether in doing the acts he brought the states from without the Union, or only gave them prop- er assistance, they never having been out of it. He said he was tonsidering that it might be his duty to make scme new an- rouncement to the people of the south, and that he would not fail to act when satis- fied that that action would be proper. Booth and Payne Present. This was the day after the President had returned from Richmond, and that night there was a great gathering of people in front of the White House, for the Presi- dent had promised to make this speech then. In the grounds among that crowd and directly in front of the window where the President was speaking were Booth and Payne, the assassins, and Booth at that time tried to persuade Payne to shoot the President while he was in the window. To which Payne said “I will take no such risk.” They walked together around the square, and Booth said to Payne: “That is the last speech he will ever make.”” At that time there was a great diversity of opinion among the 'carned men and states- men of the north on the question whether the states, which were in rebellion, under acts of secession by their legislatures, were in the Union or out of it. At the south, however, there was a unan- imity of opinion that admitied of no doubt. The people of those states were square on that question. They were out of the Union and fcr four years they fought and suffer- ed with heroic courage to maintain that position. It was revciution, and had they succeeded two independent nations would have been the result. It will be seon therefore that President Lincoln abandoned his plan of using the Virginia legislature or its members for any purpose; and that he denied making any effort or giving any permission that it might be used to settle all differences with the United States; that the President brushed aside the theory whether the se- ceded ctates were in or out of the Union; that it was immaterial, and could not gov- ern the question of recor.struction; that it would form no part in whatever plan he mignt propose to restore the seceded states to the Union. Had President Johnson adhered to this determination, as he did at first commence under the Serretary’s plan, the southern people woul] have been spared all the trou- ble their leader brought upon them after the war was over. If Mr. Stanton'’s services in saving this grand and mighty Unio of states were in- | dispensable, as history will show, it will also show that he rendered equally im- portant services in peace by his mastery of the colossal problem of reconstruction. At that time neither Presid: Lincoln, nor President Johnson, nor any member of the cabinet, but the Secretary of War, seemed to have any matured plan of what should be done to restore the southern people to self-government within the Union. Every day was incre 1g the longing of the peo- ple for peace and orderly government, and at the moment of t der of the con- federate General Raleigh, Mr. with his plan for peaceable government for the south. With his plan for peace he also I vocated turning over to the state: of the south all the iiroads a rolling stock property of the amounting to ions of dollars, the people in commercial inte: he opposed President Johnson's de: vindictive treatment of the leaders in re- bellion; and when he called a halt to the Richmond procecdings for reconstruction, he meant peace to the people of Richmond. A. E. H. JOHNSON, ——— BY WHAT RIGHT? rnment, to help The Disagreeably Outspoken People and Their Tyranny. From Harper's Bazar. We hear much of the divine right of kings, but it remains to be proved by what right, far from divine, some people make speeches to which others dare not give ut- terance? By what right does your neigh- ber criticise the management of your horse, your family, and even of yourself, when you never think of interfering with her affairs? Why should she tell you that your dress is too short, your hat unbecom- ing, your hair roughened by the wind, when you keep thoughts uncomplimentary to her personal appearance to yourself? Why should she be allowed to give vent, unchalleaged, to censure and impertinence, one-fifth of which, if uttered by yourself, would condemn you in the eyes of all your acquaintances as unmannerly and under- bred? And if your officious friend believes she has the right to say what she pleases, who gives it to her? Certainly not her lcng-suffering victim, who writhes under the sharp lash of the privileged tongue. Whatsoever right the disagreeably out- spoken woman has, and by whomsoever it has been bestowed, it is time that a Society for the Protection of Long-suffering Hu- manity deprived her of the “right,”-which is nothing less than a “wrong. Sebo ss oee Thenter Properties. From the Ne~ York Weekly. Jerseyman—“I see you're goin’ to play a piece called ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ ” ‘Theater manager—“Yes. Would you like to see it?” “No. I s'pose it's mostly moonlight and thunderstorms and sich. I know all about fheaters, but I thought maybe you might ‘want to buy some chickens.” “We have no farm scene in it.” “Oh! Well, they’re young and lively, an’ their wings ain’t clipped yet. You might use ‘em for mosquitoes.” -o2—___ A New Horseshoe. From the New York World. Nothing is so hard on a horse as an as- phalt pavement, and an inventive genius has produced to offset the evils thereof a rubber-cushioned horseshoe. It consists of a forged-stzel frame, pierced with slats, through and around which a rubber cush- ion is vulcanized to form a compact and sclid but elastic shoe, composed partly of rubber and partly of steel. The rubber takes the concussion of the foot on the pavement off the hoof, leg and shoulder of the horse. The rubber also pre- vents slipping on smooth pavements. —+e+____ A New Word. From Harper's Bazar. Bostonian—“It is a fortunate thing for the English language that these distressing accidents on the trolley roads occur in Brooklyn and Philadelphia, where the re- porters have ample time to write, instead of in your city.” ‘Because your reporters would refer to the victims as having been trolley- cuted.” RAILROADS. PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. Station corner of 6th and B streets, in effect Japuary 6, 1896, 40:30 A.M. PENNSYLVANIA LIMITED.—Paliman Sleeping," Dining, and Observation Cars risbirg to Chicago, innati, Indi: St. Louis, Cleveland and Toledo. ’ Buffet Car to Harrsourg. - 10:30 A.M.” PASI LINE.—Puliman Buffet Parlor Car to Harrisburg. ining Cars, Har- te SE so on, seems tara 3 P.M. a CAGO AND 4 _— Pullman Buffet Parlor cere a Peng Sleep- and Dining Cars, Harrisburg 10 St. Louie : So antl, Louisville a 210 PML. WESTERN EXP! —Pallman ing Car’ to Chien risburg wll Dining ‘Car 0 Chicago _ igeises 7:10 P.M SOUTH-WESTERN EXPRESS,—Puliman Sleeping and Dining Cai St. Louis, Sieep- ih Sh Harrisbarg to ‘Cincinos = S -M. PACIFIC EXPRESS. wie cae to Fitisiur. —Pullman Sleep- 7:50 A.M. for Kane, Canandaigua, Rochester and Ningara Falls daily, b 10:30 for Ware and Remove, For Will ' ie, Canandaigua, Rochester, Buf- aud Niagara Falls daily, Sleeping Car Wash- Fa. PHILADELPHIA, NEW YORK AND THR Wilmington) 6:40, "10:00" and 13S (Wining Car), 7:20, 9:00, 10:05 (Dining Car), 11:00 (Dining Var from Wilmington) A.M., 12:15, 3: 4:20, 6:40, 10:00 and 11:35 P.M.. For Phila hia only, F Express 7:0 A.M. week days. press, 12:15 week days, 2:01 and 5:40 P.M. Boston without change, 7:50 AM. daily, 'F week days, and 3:15 P.M. daily. For Baltimore, 6:25, 7:05, 7:20, 7:50, 9:00, 10:05, 10:30, 11:00 and 11:50 A-M.,'12:15, 2:01, 3:15, 3:40 (4:00 Limited), 4:30, 4:3 6:05, 6:40, 7:10, 10:00, 10:40, 1116 and P.M. On Sunday, 7:05, 7:20, '9:00, 10:30, 11:00 AM. 1: y at 10:10 shington, 7:05, 8.00, 9:10, 10: AM, 3 B: 8:28, ‘S00, 30" z: iorsd 11:08 'P. 5 10:23 210 :52 P.M. G at the where orders be left to destination from 3. R. WOOD, Ageat. Schedule in effect January 6, 1896. All trains arrive snd leave st Pennsylvania Paseenger Station. 8:00 A.M.. at (eign orage) for Danville. Connects . Gal except Sunday, and at Lynebburg with the Noi and Western datly, apd with C. & 0. Natural Bridge and se. 11:15 A.M.—Dally—The UNITED STATES FAST MAIL carries Pullman Buffet Sleepers New York avd Washington to Jacksonville, uniting at Char- lotte with Pullman Slee ta; Pall- New Orieans via Mont- man Sleeper New York to omery, connecting at Atlanta with Pullman leper’ for Birm!ny nd St. ~so1. BM—Locat tor Strasbung, “ally, except S for Charlottesville. 10:05 P.M.—Duily—New York and Florida Line, Limited, tion "Sk ‘Short Pullman rtment and Observa- leeping Cars, New York to St. Augustine; Pullman Drawing ‘Ioom Sleepers, New York to ‘Tampa and Angusta; Vestibuled Day Coach, Wash ington to St. Augustine, and Dining Car, Salisbury to St. Augustin 10:43 P.M.—Daily—WASHINGTON AND SOUTH. WESTERN VESTIBULED LIMITED, com; of Pullman Vestivuled Sleepers, Dining’ Cars and Ccaches. Pullman Sleepers New York to Asheville and Mot Springs, w York to Memphis via Birmingham, New York to New Grieans via At- Janta ‘and ‘Montgo Vertibuiea Day Coach Wash Southern Railway Duwirg Car Greensboro” to Montgomery. TRAINS KETWEEN WASHINGTON AND ROUND HILL leave Washington 9:01 A.M. daily and 4:45 P.M. daily, except Sunday, and ‘Sun- days only, for Round Hill; 4:22 F and 6:25 F Day Sanday, for Lecsburg, “ daiiy, for Herndon. Reterning arrive at Washington "8:28 A.M. and 3:00 P.M. daily from Round Hill, 7:08 A-M. daily, except Sunday, from Herndan, and 6:36 iy, except Sunday, trom Leesburg. git trains from the souil, arrive at Washing 2 AM. 0:45 A.M., 2:20 P.M. 4 9 janassas Division, 10:00 A. Ss . daily, exi 20 AM. daily from Coc lottesrille. ax, ‘Tickets, Slecping Car reservation and information furnished at offices, 511 and 1300 Pennsylvaula ave and at Pennsy vanis Railroad Passenger Star Feneral Superintendent. Trafic Mauager. K, Gon BALTIMORE AND OFIO RAILROAD. Echedale in effect December 1, 1895. Leave Washington from station corner of crs2y avenue and C st. Vestibvied Limited For Cincinnati, St. Lotis and Indianapolis, Vestl- buled Limited 2.45 p.m., Express i F rg and Cleveland, a.m. aud 8:40 p.m, For Le New 4 p.m. daily. wok days, 5:00, See 8:30, ct and 3 x11250 ptm. 10 and £:30 a.m., 12:15 and 4:28 m., p10. 00, *9:30, "11:30 am. 1:15, nd *5:30 p.m. ), 10:25 p.m, its, *6:00, 98:00 2: 7205, "9:40, ti “11:30 p.m. For Washington Sanction and s,20:005 99:30 a. 15 p.m. Express Talos, stopping Eiaigt Settoms coy, *5:20 pin. YAL BLUB LINE FOR’ NEW YORE AND PHILADELPHIA. P r AN trains filuminated with pintsch light. For Philadelphia, New York, Boston and East, week drys (7:00, Dining’ Car), $:00 (0: m., Dining Car), 11.50 (12:30, Dining Car), 32 Car),” 8:00 p.m. 2:01. oi , open at 10°00 o'cl a ay5 ing Car), (9:00 a.m., Dining Car), (1 Car, 8:60 6:06, Dining. Car, 8:00 (2:01 Sleeping Ca. for passengers 10:00 p.m). Buffet Parlor Cars on all day trains. For Auantic oy. 10:00 and 11:30 a.m., 12:30 p.m, Snodays, 4: 12: ra. “Except Sunday. only. xExpress trains. Baggage calied for rnd checked from hotels and residences by Union Transfer Co. on orders left at ticket offices, 619 Pennsylvania avenue northwest, New York avenue and iSth street and at x BR B. CAMPBELL, CHAS. 0. SCI ‘te Gen. Manager. Gen. Pass. Agt. CIMSAPEAKE AND OHIO RAILWAY. Schedule in effect November 17, 1895. Trcins jeave daily fram Union Station (B. and P.), 6th and B sts. ‘Through the grandest in America, with the hnadsomest and most” com solid train sere ice west from Washington. 2:% P.M. DAILY.—"Cininnatt and St. Lonte Special” —Solid Vestibuled, tric-lighted, Steam-heated Train. sleeping cats Washington to Cincinnatl, and St. Louts @ully. “Dining Car from Arrive Gincinnatt, 9:00 a.m.; Indianapetie, 11:36 a.m.: . 530 p.m: St. : Lexington, 11:10 a.m.; Louisville, 11:50 a.m. (ris Cincinnati, 11:10 P.M. DAILY.—The famous “F. F. V. Lim ited.” A’ solid Vestituled train, with Dining Car and Pullman Sleepers for Cincinnati, Lexington and Louisville without change. Pullman Sleeper Wash- ington to Virginia Hot Springs, without change, Wednesdays and Saturdays. Arrive Cincinnati, 52 6:00 pom. Louisville, 9:40 * ‘ Indianapolis Washington, Charlottesville, cipal Virginia points, “Dolinan locations end tickets st company's of fces, S13 snd "421 Pennsylvania avenue oo mois General Pasmnger Agett. UNDERTAKERS n19-3m Best of terms. Chapel for services, W. R. Speare, Undertaker & Embalmer, 940 F Street Northwest. Everything strictly Grst-cluss and op reasonable terms. Telepbone call 380. the most Jal-te COMMISSIONERS OF DEEDS. COMMISSIONER OF DEEDS AND NOTARY PUB. tes aud territoriws a Si‘EOLALTE” ‘Oilice (basement), 1321 W st. ce hours, myll-tt S. BUNDY, COMMISSIONER OF he Stat -s and Territories. w. (new Equity buildings.