Why France Wants to Abolish Its
"LAND ofthe. LIVING DEAD
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the
fifth of a series of six articles deal
ing with the history of, and condi
tions in, the famous French penal
colony in Guiana.
• • *
„ PARIS.
MANDA and Roussenq—two of
the most famous convicts that
ever made prison history in
French Guiana—emerge from
the records as opposing examples of
what the French penal colony does to
its inmates, how the irrational dreams
of its founders work out in practice.
Since the government of Leon Blum
canceled last fall the regular annual
shipment of convicts from the shores of
France to fester in the criminal colony
just above the equator, it is possible
that society will soon cease to find cases
like these. If Blum’s successors de
cide to follow up this temporary halt
by laws (already prepared) abolishing
the “bagne,” the sort of thing that be-
Manda, sketched from a photograph
made while he was an attendant in
the prison hospital.
comes of men like Roussenq and Manda
may not happen any more in just the
same way.
Manda was baptized Joseph Pleigneur
shortly after he was born in the slaugh
terhouse district of Paris, La Villette, in
the year 1876. He was one of 13 chil
dren. But it was as Manda, at the end
of the century, that he became famous
throughout France as the typical Pari
sian “Apache”; and the story of his love
for the beautiful “Casque d’Or”—
Golden Helmet, as Emilie Elie was
called —rang with a brutal and sinister
shock throughout the land.
Manda was the Parisian “Apache" in
all his glory. His corduroy trousers
were baggier than anybody else’s. His
jersey flamed with brighter colors. The
“foulard” about his neck was the gayest
In any of the bals musettes he fre
quented. He was tough, too, and when
he danced, his cap hung more precari
ously over his ear than any rival’s.
It was no wonder that Casque d’Or
fell for him. She was a strapping girl,
17 years old.
three years, Manda and Casque
d’Or lived together happily. Then
Leca chiseled in. Leca was a counter
feiter. When Manda heard about It,
be laid for Leca one Saturday night
and caught him in a tobacco shop in
the rue du Chemin Vert. Leca fired.
The bullet missed, but : t called the po
lice, and Manda went to jail.
When he came out, he learned that
Casque d’Or had gone off with Leca.
The second meeting happened soon.
Again it was Manda who found Leca
While Leca and some pals were drink
ing in a bistro in the rue d’Avron. Both
fired. Leca fell, slightly wounded.
When his friends led him out of the
hospital where he had been bandaged
up, Manda was waiting. Leca’s friends
fired again.
Instead of escaping, Manda leaped
for the carriage and stabbed Leca twice
with a small knife. Neither wound was
fatal.
A jury found Manda worthy of life
imprisonment in the Guiana penal
colony.
Manda’s life in Guiana was a model.
Prison officials, a little startled at the
severity of the sentence which the
French jury had passed, made him a
hospital helper.
A visiting inspector, remembering the
famous case, blustered to find such a
hardened criminal in such a post, found
it scandalous that an Apache should be
in a position of trust. The commandant
of the colony replied: "Having nobody
but criminals here, I can’t waste my
time distinguishing between them.” The
matter was dropped.
/'\NCE again, Manda faced trouble.
That was when officials, searching
Manda’s quarters one day, found a book
of medicine among his possessions. "
“You’re mistaken,” said the doctor
when this book was shown to him.
“Manda didn’t steal it. He sent to
Paris for it and bought it with his own
money.”
It took 20 years for Manda to live
down officially the terror which the
Parisian Apaches had inspired in the
world, around 1900.
By a fluke, Manda had become almost
the most famous of them all, though
the crime for which he got life im
prisonment was, after all, a minor one.
But perseverance paid, and Manda
got his reward. It was the crudest,
the harshest reward that he or any
other well-behaved convict in Guiana
could ever hope to avoid.
He was freed.
“When you are a ‘lib ere’ —a freedman
—the real ' bagne" begins,” runs the old
adage of the criminals of Guiana.
For, because of the institution of
"doubling,” a man in the penal colony
is not really free when he has served
his time. He is merely abandoned by
the state. He must stay in Guiana still,
Manda was the Parisian “Apache”
In all his glory. He was tough, and
when he danced his cap hung more
precariously over his ear than any
rival’s.
and work out an equivalent amount of
time before he can return to France.
But he must work it out on his own.
Up to that moment, the state has fed
him, after a meager fashion, clothed
him, after a meager fashion, tried to
give him a little work, if he is well
enough to accomplish it. Now he is on
his own—an outcast, unable, generally,
to make an honest living; unable to rise
above the gutter. Since Manda had
been given life, he was stuck in Guiana
for life, free or convict.
Three months after getting his “free
dom” Manda went to jail for theft. Six
months.
Iml I m »
The punishment block in one of the
Guiana prisons where Roussenq
spent more than 10 years in solitary
confinement.
That meant to Manda that he would
eat for six months.
Pretty soon he was out again, trying
his hand at anything, dragging himself
through an existence of misery. In
1934, Manda was 58 years old. He died
shortly after.
TF Manda is the unhappy pattern of
the reward of virtue as a prisoner
in the French penal colony, Paul
Roussenq was the symbol of the re
verse.
Roussenq was an Incorrigible. They
spell such types with a capital I in the
bagne, because they are a definitely
market. Hand of human being. They
can’t be tamed, can’t be broken. They
sprint for the jungle, while a guard has
time to level his rifle and fire.
Such a man was Paul Rousenq, na
tive of the Midi, sentenced by a council
of war in Tunis to 20 years’ hard labor
for incendiarism and robbery. He was
the ace Incorrigible, the toughest, most
anti-social of the whole tough, anti
social lot.
Roussenq was a glutton for punish
ment. His record for misdemeanors
was enormous.
Altogether, in 14 years, Paul Rous
senq collected 3779 days of solitary con
finement. More than 10 years. It’s the
top.
When 14 years of useless punishment
had reduced Roussenq to mere skin
and bones, somebody in authority in
the penal colony had a brain-wave.
Applying the rules of very modern
psychology, they concluded that the
greatest pleasure in Paul Roussenq’*
life was being punished. He was a
pronounced specimen of masochism, to
use the psychiatric term. He loved to
suffer. The only way to punish Paul
Roussenq was—not to punish him!
It worked. Roussenq was a broken
man. A1 the penalties he had suffe 1
for many years, all the agonies of un
dernourishment and the black hole for
all that time had failed to alter’ hia
crazy hatred and defiance of society.
But kindness did.
NEXT WEEK: Imprisonment that
kills. The story of Alphonse Mourey,
the murderer with "charm” and a
charmed life.