Why France Wants to Abolish Its
"LAND ofthe. LIVING DEAD '
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the third
of a series of six articles dealing with
the history of, and conditions in, the
famous French penal colony in Gui
ana. The series is especially timely in
view of present
efforts to abolish the colony.
By Morris Gilbert
PARIS.
TWENTY-SEVEN miles out to sea
from the town of Cayenne, the
capital of French Guiana, lies a
small semi-barren rock. It is one
of three islands in a meager cluster
which goes by the name of “The Is
lands of Safety." It is called Devil’s Is
land. It is perhaps the most famous is
land of its size in the world, because
of an atrocity which commenced there
41 years ago and continued for four
years.
“Devil’s Island” is the small island on
which Captain—later Colonel—Alfred
Dreyfus was held by France in solitary
confinement, and tortured, on a charge
of treason which was unfounded and of
which he was later acquitted.
Today, Premier Leon Blum has let it
be know'n that he wants to abolish the
whole penal settlement to which French
criminals are deported. He has halted
the usual shipment of human vermin
from the port of St. Martin-de-Re for
French Guiana and presented a law
wiping out this form of punishment, be
t
Benjamin Ullmo (right), the naval
•slicer who sold official secrets and
was sentenced to Devil’s Island, re
turning to France after being par
doned. With him is Mile. Madeleine
Foirer, a nurse, who aided him in
getting a pardon.
fore the French Chamber.
There can be no doubt that Blum, in
taking steps to abolish this stain, is
motivated by memories of the days
when he was in the van of the fight to
free Dreyfus.
The memory, in the mind of a loyal
defender of a gallant cause, is no doubt
poignant. Leon Blum’s youth was
framed by the famous “Affaire,” his
political career grew directly out of it
That was because he met Jean Jaures
through the Dreyfus case, became his
collaborator in journalism, and on
Jaures’ assassination, at the outbreak of
the World War, assumed his mantle as
leader of the French Socialist party.
Capt Alfred Dreyfus, 30 years old,
well-to-do Jewish officer in the French
•mny, first set foot on Devil’s Island on
March 15, 1895. He left it June 9, 1899.
He arrived in degradation.
IN October of the previous year he
had been accused of the most
grievous crime a soldier can commit:
treason. He was charged with having
terved Germany as • spy.
The accusation, as has since been es
tablished, was a bold effort on the part
PIC
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Dreyfus used to go to the rocky shore and sit by the shark-infested water
for hours, peering to the east as if he could see far-off France, his wife
and children.
of certain French officers to shield a
certain Esterhazy, an officer of mixed
Hungarian and French blood, the actual
culprit. The trial itself was a travesty
of justice, conviction being based on
forged papers not connected with the
original accusation, not known to the
defense but secretly confided to the
military judges. Dreyfus was convicted,
publicly dishonored, and exiled to Dev-<.
il’s Island.
He was transported thither in an open
cage, subject first to the rigor of the
North Atlantic in mid-winter, later to
the heat of the tropics. Nobody spoke
to him. He spoke to nobody.
On the day he stepped ashore on the
little barren volcanic island, separated
from its larger neighbor, Royal Island,
by a racing channel, a life of almost
unique persecution began.
The regime was one of silence. The
guards who watefeod him day and night
spoke not. He was enjoined to speak to
no one.
He lived in a shack five yards square,
with barred windows, which had been
specially built to receive him. It con
sisted of a single room with a little al
cove where, perpetually, a guard
equipped with side arms watched.
He was allowed ordinary prison ra
tions, but was obliged to cook the food
himself. He took care of himself, too,
as far as housekeeping and washing
were concerned. At first he was al
lowed no books, no pen, or paper, or
pcnciL
r pHIS was all illegal. By the law under
A which be was convicted his wife
and children should have been allowed
to accompany him. They were never al
lowed to do so.
His daily ration was brought to him
at 10 a. m. Each morning he went to
cut wood. He drew water. He washed
his clothes, his tableware, which he had
been obliged to improvise from tins.
Presently he was allowed writing ma
terial and began to keep a diary. Each
page of his paper had previously been
numbered and initialed by the commis
sioner in charge. Eventually, his let
ters, pitifully brave and simple—like
Alfred Dreyfus himself—were allowed
to go forth, and he received mail from
his wife and a few relatives and friends
after it had been censored.
He had moments of great physical
weakness. The baking sun, the rain, the
humidity of that terrible climate; the
lack of proper food, the agony of not
knowing anything of his fate, of not
understanding how his conviction could
have come about, all these factors made
it almost miraculous that Alfred Drey
fus did not go crazy, or simply die.
It is recorded how his guards would
see him go to the shark-infested, dis
mal shore, facing the sun and France.
He would sit there for hours peering
into the east, as if he could see that land
4000 miles away where his wife, his in
fant son and daughter, his brother, his
life were.
Worse was in store for Alfred Drey
fus. A certain ambitious young man
bearing the ironical name of The Good
—Lebon—became Minister for Colonies
The Affaire Dreyfus was beginning to
make a stir in France. A few army
officers, notably the brilliant and hon
orable Picquart, not only suspected but
knew the truth.
A Welsh daily newspaper printed a
false report that Dreyfus had escaped.
This was highly implausible and was
Dreyfus at his first trial, at which he
was convicted of selling military se
crets to Germany and was sentenced
to Devil's Island.
quickly checked on by cable. Never
theless the good Lebon considered this
the moment to curry favor with his su
periors. He cabled orders for Dreyfus
to be guarded doubly, to be surrounded
by a double palisade, and to be shackled
to his bed at night.
CO, in the early autumn of 1896 began
the torture of the “double buckle.”
Two ring-bolts were fastened to either
side of Dreyfus’ bed at the position of
his ankles. A bar, one end of which
was hinged to a bolt, the other capable
of being fastened with a padlock, was
placed between them. Two shackles to
fit around his ankles were added. Each
night Dreyfus was pinned to this ar
rangement from nightfall until 5 a. m.
Meanwhile a double palisade was
built around his cell. The view of the
sea, which had been at first a night
mare, later his only solace, was shut off.
He was allowed an hour’s walk a day,
within his barriers. It was like walk
ing in a treadmill. An armed guard
paced by his side.
His lot was made worse by the ar
rival of a certain Deniel as governor of
the islands. This man’s name has come
down through French records as an in
quisitor, a sadist, and a truckler to his
superiors. It is chronicled that he de
tained Dreyfus’ mail for months, had
letters from Dreyfus’ wife copied by
ignorant and careless hands, held up the
prisoner’s rations, and otherwise made
life as much of a hell for his victim as
possible.
On June 9, 1899, Alfred Dreyfus
quitted Devil’s Island. He was going
home for a retrial. Eventually, after
many more sufferings, he was restored
to rank and society.
During Dreyfus’ imprisonment, the
eyes of the world had been focused on
that little rocky shore of Devil’s Island.
After his departure it was to lie empty
for years. But presently it was occu
pied again, this time by the unfortunate
Lieut. Benjamin Ullmo, naval officer,
also a Jew, who stupidly sought to sell
naval secrets because of the avarice of
a beautiful girl.
Came the World War. Devil's Island
was crammed. The old shanty of Cap
tain Dreyfus—the island, by the way,
had originally been used as a leper
colony—was surrounded by a dozen
more. There were two men to a cabin
those days.
Now it is languishing again. The
shark l ?, once so tame because of the
food they gleaned there, are pampered
no longer.
NEXT WEEK: The wooing of “La
Belle’’ and the legend of Dr. Bougras.