M. V. de Fereal: Mystéres de l’ Inquisition et d'autres Sociétes

Secrétes del’ Espagne. Paris, 1846.
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(5) Naples
Camorra—started by convicts, 1820—overran Kingdom of Naples—Deve- loped a political Ring, 1860—Garibaldian complicity—Dazio scandal— Attempted repression—Zenith in 1880—Viterbo trial—Organisation— Novitiate—Ceremonies—Duels—Substitutes for prisoners—Prison life— Vengeance—Knives—Secret language—Activities—Collection of tolls— Discipline—Leaders in 1900—Don Vitozzi—The Cuocolo murder—Trial, 1911—Survivals—The Mala Vita.
Though the name of the Neapolitan Camorra has been attributed to a Spanish word meaning a brawl, it was more probably derived from the old Castilian comurra, a distinc- tive part of the costume, not unlike an Eton jacket, whence came the Neapolitan word for a workman’s blouse. In modern Italian, it is used for log-rolling in politics, but that is a nickname taken from the criminal society.
The Camorra was started by convicts at Naples in 1820 to protect themselves against warders, and it soon controlled the prisons, where it confined its operations for some ten years. Discharged criminals then continued and perfected it as a secret society for organised robbery, blackmail, kid- napping and smuggling. So successful were they that they became more efficiently organised than the police, and could accomplish much which the police dared not attempt. In -process of time they secured the co-operation of distinguished evil-doers—card-sharpers, financiers, politicians, all who needed unscrupulous instruments for the commission of se- cret crimes.
The whole kingdom of Naples became gradually honey- combed with Camorrists and they established such a terror that the name of their society was scarcely mentioned in whispers ; to offend the least of them was regarded as in- viting a sentence of death. Timid tradesmen sometimes hired Camorrists to protect their goods, while gay Lotharios paid them to carry off modest maidens. Indeed, to be a Camorrist during the next forty years became a pride and a distinction among the baser sort. So far from concealing
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THE CAMORRA 229
his membership, he affected a peculiar costume, almost flaunting his secrecy, like a Paris apache. A red necktie with ends floating over either shoulder, a particular sash, many brass rings on his fingers marked him out as a glorified criminal.
As an illustration of the power of the Camorra at this period, a little incident of 1829 may be mentioned. Certain puritanical zdiles had proposed building a wall about a notorious street so that the inhabitants might be isolated at night-time under lock and key. This, however, did not accord with the views of the Cammorists, zealous champions of easy virtue, so the following letter was pushed under the door of the officer in charge:
“Naples, September, 1829.
“ Sir,—Does it not strike you that, by confining these poor girls within walls, you treat them as though they were condemned to the lowest depths of hell? The prefect and the magistrate who ordered this brutal act can have no heart. But there are those of us here who have much heart. We are always ready to shed our blood for those in distress and we shall not hesitate to cut the throats of such as attempt anything towards walling up that street. So, with all humanity, we kiss yourhands. N.N.”
Needless, to say, the officials had too much heart to wall up the street.
After 1860, the Camorra entered upona new phase, developing into two branches—the Lower Camorra (Camorra Bassa), and upper Camorra, (Camorra Alta or Camorra Elegante). The Lower was the old criminal organisation, the upper a political Ring that employed the criminals much as a candidate for office in New York might have employed the Paul Kelly Gang. The Garibaldians certainly belonged to the Upper Camorra, and thenceforth the purely criminal operations of the Society were subordinated to political exigencies. Not for the first or last time in history, demo- cratic politicians deliberately allied themselves with the criminal classes, obtained office at their hands and rewarded them by protection and encouragement in their crimes.
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And this alliance endured, with vicissitudes of reinforce- ment and Telaxation, all over Southern Italy, until relief came from the iron hand of Mussolini.
The Garibaldians, however, soon found that they could not control the monster they had adopted. Public services could be obtained from protected criminals, but natural instincts could not be controlled, private vengeance and blackmail became the recognised relaxations of the new democracy. Nor was any pretence at common honesty to be expected from rogues in office. One frequent form of reward was to place Camorrists in charge of the Dazio offices, which collect dues at the entrance to every town and village in most Latin countries. The results were more satisfactory to the new officials than to the local revenue. In one place, under Salvatore di Crescenza, the receipts rapidly fell from 40,000 to 1,000 ducats a day. Another Camorrist collector, Pasquale Menotte, had the effrontery on one occasion to render the astonishing total of forty centesimi.
Even the most indulgent members of the Ring soon realised that steps must be taken to discharge such unproduc- tive officials, as well as to drive Camorrists out of the police and army, which they permeated and controlled. Mild measures, however, were met by mocking defiance, and as early as 1862 the Government organised a regular campaign against the whole organisation. Sparenta, Minister of Police, arrested no less than three hundred Camorrists in one day. But the Camorra was merely driven underground, and that not very far or for very long. The “ Elegant Ring ” continued to flourish through the support of a stand- ing army of protected rogues.
The resignation of Nicotera as Prime Minister in 1876 re- moved what little restraint remained upon the Camorrists, and they completely dominated the situation in South Italy for along period. Serious efforts were made by the Govern- ment in 1877 to suppress both the Sicilian Mafia and the Neapolitan Camorra, but without conspicuous success, and in 1880, after the death of Victor Emmanuel, the Camorra reached the summit of its power, with lawyers, magi-
CONVICT ARISTOCRACY 231
strates, professors, even cabinet ministers among its leaders.
During that year a great scandal was provoked by the murder of the minister Bonelli in a low haunt of the slums of Maples, and this brought about the prosecution of five Camorrists. Owing to the attitude of the populace, it was thought safer to transfer the trial to Viterbo, where a cloud of witnesses testified quite freely about every subject on earth except the Camorra. ‘‘ The word Camorra,” accord- ing to a contemporary account, “‘ seemed to burn their tongues. Neither threats nor cajolery could persuade any of them to contemplate the possibility that Bonelli’s death could be connected with any conspiracy, still less with the Camorra.”” The jury, however, were so much impressed by the wholesale terror which the society evidently inspired that they found all five prisoners guilty, and they were sentenced to penal servitude for life.
Following the example of more exalted societies, which have aspired to affect the fate of nations, the Camorra relief upon degrees, signs, titles and an elaborate ritual mostly borrowed from the Spanish Garduna, by which it may have been inspired. Released convicts formed a sort of aristocracy apart in the early days before the Ring, enjoy- ing what might be called founders’ shares in the association, but ordinary members had to go through a regular initia- tion and course of training. They began at an early age and would be brought by their sponsors probably, brother hooligans from the slums, to one of the regular meetings in the back garden of a wine-shop, and after searching ques- tions would be set tasks to prove their courage. They might have to accompany a gang and keep watch during a burglary or they might be sent to scuttle the boat of some refractory fisherman. If they failed, they would be put to some other test, and their examiners were not easy to satisfy. But once they had proved their spirit, they would be ini- tiated as Giovani Onorati or honourable youths.
Their novitiate might last for some years. That depended on their prowess and conferred no privileges. Each had to do precisely what he was told and was handed over to a
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Brother for instruction, especially in the use of the dagger. When comparatively simple crimes, especially those involv- ing bloodshed, were being prepared, it was usual to cast lots among the novices, and severe punishments were meted out to those who shrank or lacked courage.
One part of the training was to remember the appear- ance of everyone they passed in the streets with full details of their conversation, besides finding out their names and where they lived. I often noticed at Naples in the old days that, after a stranger had spent a few hours there, everybody seemed to know all about him. I might take a cab in the most distant part of the city, but it was never necessary to mention the name of my hotel when I wanted to go home. That, of course, was all owing to the Camorra. Every movement of all the police was particularly reported, and any man could be tracked down very rapidly by the boys.
When one of them was found to deserve promotion, he was taken to a secret meeting-place that had not been pre- viously revealed to him. There the Brethren were gathered round a table, on which a dagger, a pistol, poisoned wine and a lancet were laid out. He bared his arm and a vein was lanced so that he might be smeared with his own blood. Then he raised his gory right hand and took a solemn oath to keep the laws and secrets of the Camorra; in turn he raised the poisoned glass to his lips, held the pistol to his temple and the dagger to his breast, in token that he was ready to lay down his life as his superiors might ordain. Finally he knelt down, and the Vicario, or Master of the Ceremony, broke the glass, fired off the pistol and threw away the dagger to signify confidence in his loyalty.
The boy was now known as a Picciotto di Sgherro or Youth of Delinquency, and from time to time he had to fight duels with his colleagues to keep up his fitness and courage. These duels were quite serious affairs, long, sharp knives being handled and throwr. with remarkable skill, and serious wounds being accepted quite as a matter of course.
The Picciotti were also employed to take the place of hardened criminals who expected to fall into the hands of the law. They diverted suspicion to themselves and submitted
A PRISON DRAMA 233
to sentences of imprisonment as substitutes. Life in prison, however, was a much milder experience for a Camorrist than for anybody else. The society supplied him with money and the gaolers treated him with deference.
A story is told of one Camorrist prisoner who had reason to doubt his wife’s fidelity. When she came to visit him in his cell, he asked her to bring a jar of sulphur-water next time and to drop a knife into it. Then he informed a gaoler that he might acquire merit with his superiors if he looked intothe wife’s jar when she came again. The knife was duly found and the woman was sentenced to imprisonment on a charge of attempting to introduce arms into the gaol. After release, however, she bore no malice, but rather boasted over her husband’s ingenious punishment of her infidelity.
Camorrists professed to rely chiefly upon three things, a brave heart, a strong arm, and a sharp knife. The favourite knives were of three kinds. One was known as settesoldi (seven ha’pennies), about four inches long with a curved blade and a sharp point. This was chiefly used for dis- figuring an adversary or for practice duels among the Picciottt. The second type known as zuwmpafuosso had a flat, wide blade of exceeding sharpness and was used for serious duels. The third, a three-edged, polished dagger, was the popular weapon for bloody professional murders.
Besides the use of the knife, Camorrists also had to learn a special slang with a vocabulary of some five thousand words. Tobia Basile, one of the most noted members, kept a diary in this secret language. Growing tired of his wife, he killed her and walled her body up in his kitchen, then proceeded to record what he had done in the following innocent phrases :
‘“May 1. The violets are out. May 7. Water to the beans. June 11. I have pruned my garden. August 10. How beautiful is the sun! September 12. So many fine sheep are passing.”
Time passed, and a contractor came upon the corpse while
rebuilding the wall. Basile denied his guilt, but a Camorrist translator came forward with a compromising version :
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‘“May 1. The murder has been committed. May 7. She is buried in the wall. June 11. I have walled up the place. August 10. My safety is complete. September 12 So many beautiful women are at my disposal.”
He was forced to admit the accuracy of this record, and served a sentence of thirty years, after which the Camorra accepted him as an instructor of Picciotti in the mysteries of the secret language.
The active Camorra was divided into groups, ‘each under a Vicario, and these ‘‘ vicars’’ met at intervals under an elected head to discuss the affairs of the Society. It was a very highly skilled organisation almost from the outset, administered with supreme statesmanship, and soon became so rich and powerful that no private person dared to resist it. But its most dangerous manifestations were under the direction of the politicians and other educated persons who formed the Ring. Not only did it control elections and public appointments, but it owned a gambling-house or two, not to mention still less reputable establishments, chose suitable objects of blackmail, and provided the requisite influence to save Camorrists in time of trouble.
There were also affiliated gangs of burglars or thieves under a Padrone (master) or Basista (founder), who planned operations and provided the requisite instruments. These were always ready to accept commissions for stabbing or face-slashing at fixed rates, or even for nothing to oblige a colleague.
For the rest, everybody paid toll to the Camorra. An old resident once took me through the fish-markets of Santa Lucia and drew my attention to a man in a red jelly-bag cap, who strolled from stall to stall, held out his hand with- out a word and received a few copper coins. Then we saw him go through a similar procedure at a cab-rank. On another occasion I was shown a fruit-vendor, who sat behind a wonderful display of plums and oranges and Japan- ese medlars, never selling anything, but evidently doing a thriving trade, for there came a regular procession of men, women and children, each handing him coins wrapped up in a
THE CAMORRA ATMOSPHERE 23
piece of paper, as though he were a street bookmaker. No receipts were ever given, but I understood that accounts were very accurately kept and defaulters unknown.
ae * * * * *
A good picture of the Camorra atmosphere is provided in Charles Grant’s Siorzes of Naples and the Camorra, from which I take the following summary :
Don Antonio is walking, apparently aimlessly, along the quay, when a man who has been waiting by the boats comes up to him and addresses him. The newcomer is tall and well-made, and his dress, which is neither patched nor torn, is made in a style between that of a fisherman and a coasting-sailor. Though his tone is low and his manner respectful, it is apparent that he is both excited and angry. A policeman, who has been lounging about among the fishermen, now saunters up the steps in the most natural and innocent way. Don Antonio remarks him, however, and conveys the information to his com- panion in a glance, so that all the representative of the law hears in passing is:
“Tf you think it is too little, there are plenty of other boatmen down there.”
‘But remember the heat, sir.”
“‘ Well, say twelve soldi.”
“‘T will be ready in five minutes if you will wait in the shade.”
In less than that time, both are seated and the boatman is rowing lustily in the direction of the harbour. So soon as they are well out of earshot of the land, he resumes the conversation in the tone of a man who is indignant at a wrong suffered from the hands of one whom he feels to be his superior.
‘We have always paid regularly. Even in the worst times we have never been a day behind.”
“T know it.”
“ And it was the best basketful we have had the whole month.”
“Where was it left ?”’
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‘In the usual place.”
“ And you?”
“We were in the caffe, of course. We were hardly away twenty minutes, and when we returned the fish had gone.” |
‘“‘Tt is now nearly eleven. By one o’clock the fish will be here again.”
“‘ Half spoilt and sale time past.”
“T will see to that. Pull for the Porto.”
Don Antonio springs ashore and takes his way to the upper city. His companion is immediately surrounded by a group of fishermen, who, by their dialect, evidently belong to one of the little villages which lie on the coast between Gaeta and Naples.
Don Antonio seems to intend to lunch off fish to-day, for he pauses before a number of the market stalls and nar- rowly inspects the more modest lots. He enters into a conversation with several of the few salesmen who are still in their places, and though the tone is unusually low for Naples, the passer-by would conclude from his manner and gestures that he is either criticising or bargaining for fish. He is, in fact, making a judicial enquiry. Yet, at the last stall at which he pauses, he buys nine fresh sardines, for which he pays the full market price.
Next he enters a small trattoria, a low, close room, in which various disreputable groups are sitting, with wine or empty glasses before them, playing cards. Upstairs is a light, airy room, clean and cheerful, a strange contrast to the dirty lower room, and entirely free from the pre- valent plague of flies.
Five men who are sitting at a table with wine and fruit before them rise when Don Antonio enters, and each fills his glass and offers it to the newcomer, who raises four glasses in turn to his lips, with an inclination of the head ; but the fifth he refuses with a slight motion of the hand and a polite: ‘‘ Thank you, I’ve had enough,” as he takes his seat at a side-table. The others move their chairs so that none may sit with his back to him, and resume their seats and conversation. The one whose glass has
CRIMINAL DISCIPLINE 237
been rejected is silent and moves uneasily on his seat. In silence Don Antonio eats his luncheon and, when the fruit appears, the man whose proffered glass has been refused at once approaches the table and stands before it in a posi- tion of the most servile humility.
A long conversation ensues, conducted in the broadest Neapolitan dialect, and so low that not a word is audible to any but the speakers. At its conclusion Don Antonio fills his glass and offers it to his companion, who raises it to his lips and at once leaves the room. He has confessed to a participation in the morning’s theft and undertakes to restore the basket filled with fresh fish and of a some- what greater value than those stolen. All he had to plead in excuse was that, though the boatmen were themselves irreproachable, some of the wares they brought to market belonged not to them but to another fisherman who paid no tribute to the Camorra. These he was unwilling to give up, but all his objections were met, not with argu- ments, but by a simple command, which he knew it was best policy for him to obey.
By the time Don Antonio reaches the quay the fisher- men are awaiting him in the best of humours, as they have received not only a full equivalent in kind for the fish that was stolen, but also a list of places at which theyhave been able to dispose of their wares quickly and to great advantage. But as he is leaving the steps again, Don Antonio whispers to the head fisherman :
“The next time you bring any of Francesco’s fish to market, you had better set a watch on them, for I will not
be responsible.”’ * * * * * *
After 1900, the leaders of the Society were Enrico Alfano, commonly called Erricone or Big Henry, its re-organiser and supreme head; Giovanni Rapi, treasurer and chief adviser, known as the Professor, because he had once taught languages in the State schools; and the priest, Don Ciro Vitozzi, the hero of every Camorra legend, probably the ori- ginal of the Don Antonio described in Stories of Naples and the Camorra. He was known as the Guardian Angel, or
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the Confessor, exerted wide power and influence, and claimed to have been confessor to King Humbert:
Once a cabman succeeded in overcharging him, and was told, ‘‘ Now, remember you have cheated Don Ciro Vitozzi.” That same night, the poor wretch was set upon and beaten almost beyond recognition, and next day he came crawling to the priest, craving permission to drive him for nothing.
In order that no suspicion should rest on them, Don Vitozzi and Erricone always met in the church, usually in the confessional. Here Vitozzi would hand on the informa- tion he had been able to collect, leaving Erricone and his brethren to carry out the plans. The priest was not above giving his confederates directions for robbing churches ; in fact, he organised a burglary at his own church, which caused an amusing interlude. The thieves had taken away almost everything portable, but the door of the sacristy had been locked by the verger and resisted all their efforts to
‘open it. So Don Vitozzi, who was due to read Mass in an hour, went into the street to secure assistance. At that moment two policemen passed. The priest told them a touching story of a locked room which contained his ecclesias- tical vestments, and begged their assistance in opening the door. Willingly enough, they entered the church with him, the tired Camorrists watching while the police placed hefty shoulders against the door and burst it in.
The proceeds of his thefts brought Vitozzi enormous sums of money, but they ran through his fingers as butter runs in a hot pan. According to a contemporary chronicler, he “scattered his gold like a sawdust prince, not to the sick and needy, but in a manner worthy of a Vitozzi.”
Even the dead were not safe from him. He was himself vice-director of the cemetery, with everything left in his charge by a confiding superior, so he carried on quite a smart trade in bones and skeletons. He opened the graves of the rich and robbed the corpses of their grave-clothes and jewels. When people were brought to the church to lie in state, he chopped the rings off their fingers and tore the jewels from their ears. Nor did he confine his attentions to the dead or the wealthy. Even poor church beggars were defrauded!
AN ASCETIC ASSASSIN 239
of their hard-earned pennies by him. One miserable old woman lost some two hundred and thirty lire in this way, the savings of a life-time.
The position which kept Vitozzi in the public eye was not only utilised to search out fresh opportunities for crime, but enabled him to send the police off on false scents so that his burglaries might remain undiscovered. The police de- pended upon him as a sort of unofficial detective, and every commissary reposed the most absolute trust and confidence in this rogue. After all, who could have doubted him ? He was thin and bony, with a yellow, wrinkled face and deep- set, red-rimmed eyes. His hair was sparse and slightly grey ; his lips were thin and white and tightly pressed. He had altogether more the appearance of an ascetic saint than a criminal.
But his double-dealing brought him to disaster.
On the morning of July the 5th, 1909, a man named Cuocolo, a Basista or founder of a burglars’ gang, was found stabbed to death by the side of the road on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius. Enquiries were made at his house, and there his wife was found in bed, also stabbed to death. As they were both high in the councils of the Camorra, it was supposed that they had succumbed to some act of private vengeance, and the police were not greatly interested, deeming the pair’s demise a good riddance.
But presently an anonymous letter was received, stating that on the night of the murder a dinner-party had taken place at an inn close by, the guests being Enrico Alfano, commonly called Big Henry, the supreme head of the Ca- morra ; his brother Ciro; Giovanni Rapi, the “‘ Professor ”’ and treasurer of the society, and two others. While they were singing and drinking a man named Mariano di Gennaro suddenly entered and made a sign to Big Henry, who pledged the visitor in a glass of wine, exclaiming, “‘ All is well. We will meet to-morrow.”’
This seems thin evidence of complicity, merely suggesting that the party were dining in the neighbourhood of the crime when it took place, but the police, having verified the facts, proceeded to arrest them all. In this they were wise, for
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they set tlte Camorra in motion and were able to draw fresh conclusions.
Don Ciro Vitozzi was the first to rush into the breach. As a double-dealer he thought he enjoyed the confidence of the authorities, and his priestly office. was always a good card on which he relied. He hastened to a magistrate and swore most solemnly that his godson, Ciro Alfano, was innocent, and he argued that the others could not possibly be connected with the crime. The real culprits, he in- sinuated, were two ex-convicts, Tommaso de Angelis and Gaetano Amodeo. He suggested likely evidence of their guilt and produced a witness, Giacomo Ascrittore, who said he had overheard them gloating over the deed, and that the motive was revenge, as Cuocolo had cheated them out of the proceeds of a previous homicide. Accordingly, the members of the dinner-party were released and the two new suspects were cast into prison in their stead.
But now public opinion began to stir. The release of Big Henry and his confederates was regarded as another instance of Camorrist influence on behalf of criminals. The Press drew attention to the long series of outrages that had gone unpunished, accused the bureaucracy of bolstering up a reign of terror, and cried that no honest man’s life or property was safe. The Socialists held meetings of protest, for they regarded the Camorra as the tool of the Garibaldian or Liberal Party. All the decent public of South Italy joined in the outcry. No doubt, Cuocolo and his wife were obscure criminals, but their murder brought the scandal to a head. Even Giolitti, the crafty organiser of elections, who had made all prefects and policemen his tools and voting- machines, showed signs of heeding the chorus of public protest. King Humbert, a colourless constitutional mon- arch, showed a glimmer of energy and sent for the General in command of the Carabinieri, urging him to take drastic action.
It was hoped that the site would blow over, but it did not do so, and the police were kept up to the scratch. After two months of investigations, a certain Gennaro Abatte- naggio of the Camorra, a petty thief and blackmailer, was
DRAMATIC CONFRONTATIONS 241
induced to turn informer, various houses were searched and among the discoveries was a draft of bogus evidence against the two prisoners de Angelis and Amodeo. This draft was found in the possession of Ascrittore, the witness provided by Don Ciro Vitozzi, and it had been drawn up in the hand- writing of Ippolito, a delegato or commissary of police. This led to suspicions of Don Ciro himself. His house was searched, and among large collections of obscene photo- graphs a mass of incriminating evidence was found.
The priest was arrested in his church and taken under safe escort to the prison of San Efremo, passionately denying all knowledge of the crime laid to his charge. With arms raised to heaven, he swore by God and all the saints that he was guiltless. Usually taciturn and reserved, he now turned into a very Savonarola for eloquence and righteous indignation. He swore that the vengeance of Heaven would descend upon his persecutors, and implored the protection of the Supreme Power for himself as an injured and innocent martyr.
According to Italian law, two other individuals must be produced for identification, each bearing a strong re- semblance to the accused. As Don Ciro Vitozzi had been apprehended in his clerical garb, two other priests were found after some difficulty. But the first witness went straight up to Don Ciro.
‘‘ This is he,” was the dramatic announcement, with a torrent of details implicating him in the crime.
The answer of Don Ciro was to draw a crucifix from his bosom and extend it to his accuser.
“‘T ama priest,” he cried in righteous indignation. “Can you kiss this crucifix and swear on peril of your immortal soul that I am the man you charge ? ”’
But the other persisted.
‘‘ Yes,” he replied, ‘‘ this is undoubtedly the man.”
Then came the old woman from whom Don Ciro had stolen two hundred and thirty lire, and she also identified him at once as the culprit. Whereupon, he held out a rosary with a medal of the Madonna, defying her to swear by the Mother of God that he had so much as spoken to her in all his life.
“Father,” she answered, without a moment’s hesitation,
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242° SECRET SOCIETIES’ ‘do not lie, You robbed a poor, defenceless woman of two hundred and thirty lire.”
At this he seemed to become resigned to his fate, for he folded his hands and murmured with a fine show of injured innocence, ‘‘ The will of God be done! ”’
The Camorra contrived to delay investigation for two whole years, but at last, in 1911, the ringleaders were brought to trial. Don Ciro Vitozzi was charged not only with com- plicity in the murder of Cuocolo, but with selling corpses, violating graves, receiving stolen goods, rape and unnatural offences, abduction of young children, burglaries, fraud, usury, extortion ; indeed, almost every crime in the calendar. The trial lasted fourteen months, and the Camorrists used all their wiles to save their chiefs. Butinvain. Abattenag- gio made full confession and proved that the murders had been planned by the five diners at the inn, where they waited to hear of its accomplishment. Cuocolo and his wife had been condemned to death by the Camorra for treachery and, as was usual in such cases, had been swiftly and ruth- lessly called to account. The delegato Ippolito was acquitted for lack of evidence.
Big Henry and some of his accomplices were sent to penal servitude for thirty years. He had escaped to New York, but been discovered by the American authorities and handed over. Don Ciro was sentenced to ten years, and it is said that all through his confinement he never allowed his rosary out of his hand by night or day, murmuring continual prayers. After a time he had a stroke which paralysed both his legs and his left hand, sparing only the right hand, which held the rosary.
During the trial Police-Inspector Simonetti gave evidence as follows :
“The Camorra truly exists at Naples, exercising violence and absolutism. Formerly it had severe laws and iron regulations with blind obedience to the chiefs. It was a state within the State, and all profits derived from criminal undertakings were divided among the leaders. Now this collectivism has disappeared. The Camorrists respect one another, but each man acts for himself. This is especially
MALA VITA SOCIETY 243
the case in the lower ranks of the Society. Many Camorrists are concerned with little else than the exploitation of one or more women. Others attend horse-fairs and other public sales, especially auctions of pawned goods, and frighten away bidders who are not members of the Society. They exercise usury on a very large scale among the lower classes and employ terrorism to collect their interest. And practically all receivers of stolen goods in Naples are Camorrists.”’
The “‘ elegant ’’ Camorrists, according to turther evidence, hovered on the tringe of society, blackmailed indiscreet women, acted as procurers or arrangers of various sexual matters for rich noblemen, and cheated drunken spend- thrifts at the gaming-tables.
After this trial, the Camorra faded in intensity either through a lack of competent leaders or from a change in the temper of the people, but it has not altogether died out even now, and remains a name to conjure with in the byways of Neapolitan crime, though it has certainly been driven well underground by Mussolini.
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The Mala Vita or Evil Life Society was derived from the Camorra in 1890 and spread all over the old kingdom of Naples, concerning itself chiefly with agricultural crimes— cattle-lifting, arson and blackmail, never on a big scale. It did, however, provoke a big, sensational trial some years ago, and many of the ringleaders were imprisoned without suppressing the society. There are three classes—Gzovanotts (boys), Picciottt (youths) and Camorrists—under a chief known as the Wise Master. Novices wear chains on one foot and stand in an open grave, swearing to give up every- thing they hold dear—father, mother, wife, children—for the sake of the Society. The death sentence on traitors is passed at a full meeting and the executioner chosen by lot.
AUTHORITIES Monnier: La Camorra, Notizie storiche. Florence, 1863. Luigi Monti: Article in The Atlantic Monthly. Boston, 1876. Count Maffei: Brigand Life in Italy. London, 1865.
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Mastriani: I Vermt. Naples, 1877.
Alongi: La €amorra. 1890.
Charles Grant: Stories of Naples and the Camorra. London, 1896.
Usi e costumi di Napoli e contorni descrittt e dipinti, including Il Camorrista e la Camorra, a paper by Cav. C. T. Dalbono.
S. Morasca : Camorra.
THE SICILIAN MAFIA 245
(6) Sicily
The Mafia—Origin—Unofficial Home Rule—Spirit of Independence— Chivalry—Rough Justice—Kidnapping—Murders—Taxes—Cattle-lifting —Brigandage—Degeneration after the war—Mussolini’s attempt at sup- pression—The brigands’ capital and leaders—Their surrender—Apparent pacification—the future.
THE Mafia is the most amazing secret society ever known, the incredible but appropriate product of the most sur- prising island in the world. Nowhere else could it have been conceived, sustained and brought to such triumphant domination; a state within the State, nay, a state above the State.
It began with armed bodyguards maintained by Sicilian landowners for the protection of their lives and property in turbulent times. These were officially disbanded early in the nineteenth century on the passing of feudalism, but survived and developed as a secret organisation. Gari- baldi vainly tried to suppress it in 1860, but he really con- trived to strengthen it by the release of convicts during his revolutionary movement. Time passed, and the Mafia gradually abandoned its criminal aspect more and more, securing an independent position in face of the law and supporting people at issue with the authorities.
In its early stages it has been described, not quite fairly, as an association ot people who despaired of legal justice and therefore determined to administer justice themselves. But it was more than that. It became an unofficial kind of Home Rule, that might well find imitation in many a corrupt and tyrannical republic. It instituted its own police and secret service, even rude courts of law; it main- tained order to a certain extent, kept engagements scru- pulously, severely repressed rival forms of delinquency, though members would still screen one another from the limbs of the law.
Practically everybody in the island belonged to the Society, from the highest to the lowest, but the most active
246 SECRET SOCIETIES
supporters were ‘artisans, workmen, small peasants and tenant farmers, not people of high morality perhaps, but quite distinct from the ordinary criminal classes. They controlled all elections, sent a solid phalanx of deputies to parliament, provided mayors and made the lives otf prefects either easy or impossible, infiltrated themselves into the regular police force, successfully defied the efforts of suc- cessive Italian governments to suppress them—at least until the advent of Mussolini.
The name is derived from a Sicilian word meaning beauty, gtace or perfection. Even to-day you will not offend a
/ pretty girl by calling het mafiusedda, which has a signification of elegance with a touch of originality. ‘ Haiu scups da mafia |’ cries the vendor of the stoutest brooms. Hawkers announce their most luscious oranges as mafiuse. The word also implies superiority, valour and such proud Sicilian qualities as the jealous tutelage of honour and chivalry towards women. “I am mafiuso,’ I heard a boatman declare, when he merely sought to convey that he was not to be put upon.
Sicilians have long prided themselves on their personal courage, their quick, extreme resentment of discourtesy, and what they call omerid, which means that a self-respect- ing man must do his own justice instead of appealing to authority, must never take the side of the representatives of the law against anybody, whether friend or foe.
Sicilian children are brought up to regard the police as spies and natural enemies. Playing among themselves, they know no direr insult than to call one another sbhirri— agents of those in authority. When a threatening letter had been written at her parents’ dictation by a little girl of eight, the examining magistrates failed to extract a word from her in spite of every cajolery and threat. And an old servant hanged himself the day before his interrogatory lest he should be forced to admit something against his master, who was in gaol.
Mafiusi have been known to obtain the liberation ot their enemies from gaol in order to execute justice themselves. The innate repugnance of all contact with the law is illus-
MAFIA CHIVALRY 249
trated by the story of a woman whose husband had. been murdered. Summoned by the police, she declared, “I have nothing to say. It is all a question of sixteen soldi. That was the price of the cartridge which killed my man, and his assassin will be suppressed by one of equal value, though I may have to wait years for satisfaction.”’
And here is an illustration of Mafia chivalry. A singer, who was not even a Sicilian, obtained an engagement at the Palermo opera and her first appearance was a great success, but she was told next day that her career could not proceed unless she went out to supper with the impresario. The Mafia were informed and a representative called upon this Don Juan. He entered hat in hand and began with Suave courtesy. He hoped that it was not true that the city would be deprived of the pleasure of hearing the sig- norina. Being told to mind his own business, he went on to give kindly, but forcible advice: ‘‘ I speak only in your own interest. If you value your own skin, the young lady will sing to-night, and I can promise her a triumph, for I will fill the theatre with all my friends.’”” The man realised that he was at issue with the Mafia, and immediately gave way, with the result that the girl was applauded to the skies, and founded a great career.
I have myself had one or two small encounters with the Society, which illustrate their attention to detail. The first night I reached Syracuse I had a misunderstanding with a cabman, and on reflection I realised that I had underpaid him, in spite of his protests. However, he was gone, and there was an end toit. I would overpay my next cabman.
But as I walked abroad in the morning I realised what it must have been for a land-grabber in Ireland during a boycott when the Land League had issued edicts: “Shun him in the road, shun him in the market-place...” There was no mistake about it, I was being shunned. The usually amiable Sicilians were scowling from every doorway, rude remarks were hurled at me, and the dialect is rich in terms of abuse; nastier still, many people paused to spit on the pavement as I passed. I entered a coffee-house, and was soon accosted by a stranger who informed me with polite
248 SECRET SOCIETIES
apologies that I had underpaid my cabman the previous night. ‘‘I know, I know. I have discovered my mistake. But how can I find him ?” ‘“‘ He is here at the door, sig- nore. Shall I call him in?” A small present and a glass of wine, and all was well. The ban was removed and Syracuse smiled once more. But my stay might not have been so pleasant if I had attempted to resist the Mafia.
Later on, at Catania, I made an acquaintance at a res- © taurant, and we decided to drive out to the little watering- place of Ognina after dinner. We had not proceeded very far, when we passed another cab with three young men on the box, and they made signals to our driver. ‘“‘ Now,” said my companion with a smile, ‘ something is going to happen.”’ And sure enough, the driver said he was very sorry he could not goon. His horse was too tired, and per- haps our Excellencies would consent to wait at the res- taurant while he changed it for another. When he was gone my companion said :
“He will not come back. But in his place those three young men will come with another cab, those three young men we passed just now. On no account go with them, for they would take us to the hills and sequestrate you there until you were ransomed Just say you are tired and have changed your mind, but give them something for wine.” Everything happened just as it had been foretold, and the young men seemed much annoyed, scarcely thanking me for what I gave them. This, of course, might have been a romance or a coincidence, but my companion met me next day with a great gash across the face, delivered during an early walk in the public gardens. This was a punishment for betraying the young men to me, and I heard that they had intended to hold me up for eighty pounds.
In olden days, when people were sequestrated they were often entertained right royally, with servants to wait on them, silver plate, the best wines and cigars, all of which were added to the bill on departure. This practice, however, did not endure, and just before the war I heard of captives who had fared very poorly in mountain-caves, though they were treated quite courteously. It was very rare for any-
[SECRET DEATH SENTENCES 249
body to be kidnapped unless the Mafia had a legitimate claim and knew that payment would be forthcoming. I had been assessed at eighty pounds by an error, being sup- posed to be a mulor, but that was soon rectified, and I received an assurance that I could go where I pleased without fear of molestation.
Yet, when I strolled in the gorgeous public gardens of some Sicilian town it was difficult not to perceive a sharp, haunting void of insecurity amid the flowers and the scents and the sunshine. If at any moment a Mafia man had stalked forth from yonder palm-grove and drawn his stiletto, killed and passed on, he would have disappeared as silently and securely as he approached, none of the happy saunterers with their songs and their flirtations and their cigarettes would have dreamed of raising an alarm, still less a pursuit ; indeed, the spectators would have seen and heard nothing. If, by some miracle, a minion of the law had come upon the scene, he would have found plenty of gentle sympathy, compassion for the victim, distress that such accidents could be, but never the faintest bint which could serve as a clue. Or if the police had beheld the crime and taken its author red-handed, witness after witness would have come forward with the most solemn oaths and the most circum- stantial stories to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that, the criminal was miles away at the time, that he was the’ dearest friend of the victim, that he had risked his life to defend him.
When the Mafia sentenced anybody to death the most ingenious precautions were always taken. The chosen executioner was always somebody far above suspicion. The dagger or revolver would be slipped into his hand at the last moment and snatched away immediately after the blow, to be passed from one to another with the nimbleness of professional conjurors. And if guilt could be brought home no jury would ever condemn. Or if an adverse ver- dict was found, it would be against some innocent person whom the Mafia wished to put out of the way.
So sagacious was the machinery of extra-legal taxation that even the poorest did not escape the payment of his
250 SECRET SOCIETIES
dues. The most ragged and penniless person might be ordered to give a day’s labour without wage on the property of a leading Mafiuso. The carter lent his horse and wagon. The blackmailer paid a percentage of his gains, the waiter of his tips. The lawyer pleaded without fees, the doctor gave free consultations, the chemist supplied medicines for nothing. The landed proprietor paid tribute of fifty thousand lire or more with good grace.
An engineer at the head of some important works in Sicily told me how he once received a visit from a very exalted personage, a Commander of the Crown of Italy, high in favour with his Sovereign, his name almost a household word. The interview began with many flowery compli- ments. ‘‘ Your work here is of enormous benefit to the island, nay to the whole kingdom. I must congratulate you on your industry and ingenuity and benevolence, and I am very anxious that nothing should ever occur to disturb you. Do you not think that you could afford to pay five thousand lire to make certain of your tranquility ?”’ Andit was only after prolonged haggling that my friend was able to secure the reduction of this toll of the Mafia to two thou- sand lire.
Nor was there ever hope of defrauding the non-legal revenue or evading the full payment of death duties, for the factors of estates and the porters of town houses sent in accurate schedules of possessions. Taxes were usually collected by shepherds, milkmen, carriers, any sort of per- son whose nomadic occupations gave them an appearance of normal activity.
If anyone did attempt to shirk taxes, he received a re- minder couched in such gentle, friendly terms that only long experience of Mafia ways could reveal the semblance of a threat. The missive spoke of sorrow for disturbance, of kissing hands, of everlasting fidelity. Times were hard and generous. assistance was solicited. It was only shame and pride which prevented personal application, and suggested that a certain sum, poetically styled ‘“‘ this little flower,”’ should be deposited behind a tree at the cross-roads or handed in a specially marked envelope to the milkman.
SEQUESTRATIONS 251
If such an appeal were neglected, or an insufficient offer of compromise were returned, more pressing demands would follow, still professing friendship, but emphasising dire necessity. Then would come active warnings, such as the depredation of a garden, the killing of hens or pigeons, and cattle-lifting, which, under the name of abigeato, became one of the chief Mafia sanctions.
When sheep and cattle were being conveyed from one place to another, mounted men stopped them and tied the herdsmen to trees, usually in wild valleys with scarcely a human habitation and never a passing wayfarer. Then the animals were driven at a great pace to the next province, where other bandits waited to receive and sell them. There was an elaborate system for changing marks and brands, so that stolen beasts could not be identified. One heard stories of immense subterranean stalls and stables near Trapani and Palermo, secret slaughter-houses, Mafia butchers selling cattle to their actual owners in the form of meat.
In cases where cattle-lifting or other forms of plunder were impossible and people persisted in disregarding their assess- ments, severer measures were employed. Suppose a man had been collecting rents and ventured about the country without sufficient escort, his horse might be stopped by a rope stretched across a path, or masked men would leap out of ambush and bid him lie face downwards while they went through his pockets.
An Italian writer has said the Mafia is the brain, brigan- dage the arm of delinquency. Brigandage was, however, for a long time only a minor accessory of the organisation. Criminals had taken to the mountains to avoid arrest, and the Mafia afforded them protection, gave them warning of pursuits in return for assistance in tax-gathering. It has been said that only about a thousand real Mafiusi existed in all, and that for many decades some four millions of honest Sicilians were terrorised by them. Such specula- tions must be mere guesswork. What we do know is that the central power of the society was vested in well-dressed, educated men, living in the most fashionable houses in the
252 SECRET SOCIETIES
island. These unleashed the executors of their laws, ban- dits who éonstituted flying squadrons in the various pro- vinces. The Mafia was regarded as an infallible and inexor- able insurance company, to which every inhabitant contri- buted according to hismeans. His annual premium secured his life and property. If he suffered assault or robbery, the offender would be punished relentlessly by the extra-legal organisation. ;
But the Mafia began to degenerate during the Serajevo war, merging further and further into brigandage. A new generation arose, despising the old romantic actions and points of honour, growing greedy for personal profit. Tradi- tional methods of courtesy were superseded by vulgar insult, fair fights according to punctilious rules by ambushes and treachery, chivalry towards women by bestial violence, reasonable taxes by public robberies for private gain. The Mafia became undisciplined.
Mutinies arose within the ranks. It was no longer enough to possess prestige. In old days a decrepit old man could terrorise a province with a whisper. Now beardless youths with their heads inflated by prowess or promotion at the front began to consider it monstrous that they should submit to any law, however lawless, to any state even within the State. They protested that they exposed themselves most and reaped least rewards. Bandits began to neglect paying in the taxes that they had collected, or else they multiplied exactions and snatched the lion’s share. Shep- herds suddenly blossomed forth as millionaires, small pro- prietors mysteriously acquired vast estates. A period of terrorism ensued. The poorest were preyed upon, plundered of chickens and eggs and fruit.
Everyone heard of outrages on women. Girls were sud- denly carried off and found themselves in caves or remote buildings among dozens of rude, unscrupulous men. Or they were not removed from their families, but compelled to entertain bandits at home, passing nights of horror, terrified into silence if the police were close at hand, receiving wild kisses to an accompaniment of fusillades. Meanwhile, all village lights were extinguished by order of the armed
BRIGANDAGE 253
bands, who saw in the dark like cats. And in another room, paralysed with fear, submitting with helpless resignation, a girl’s family stood huddled and shivering. The brigand’s courtship for one of these forced marriages was a cry of “Your hand or your life!” This even in the Madonie, a province with secular traditions of honour and jealousy.
Nor was there any hope of redress. Even if custom had permitted an appeal to the Italian law, none would have been so bold or so mad as to attempt it. For all practical purposes the police might have been dwellers in another planet. They could be reached only by a pilgrimage of many weary miles over mountains and torrents and preci- pices, at the risk, nay almost with the certainty of receiving a bullet in the back. There remained no appeal, even to the Mafia, whose dictatorship seemed at an end. Sicily was plunged in chaos at the mercy of brigand bands, bolshevised without the pretence of politics.
This was Mussolini’s opportunity. Having restored order to Italy when Communists plundered factories, he could scarcely shrink from the further task of liberating the adjacent island from the bondage of brigands. No one took his announcement very seriously, but, as he pointed out, Sicily is in a sense the key to the home policy of Fascism. She is the granary of new Italy, providing one-eighth of the corn of the peninsula, though her four million inhabitants are scarcely a tenth of the population. Italy is ambi- tious to prove self-supporting, and can do so only by a complete restoration of order. Now the Mafia, like every- body else, was prudent enough to accept Fascism, to infil- trate itself and make use of Fascism, to organise Fascist elections with the utmost efficiency, but did not dream of being disturbed after a long period of toleration, especially in view of the vast solitudes and the vague communica- tions which characterise the island.
Gangi was the brigands’ capital, a township of eighteen thousand souls, five or six hours distant from the nearest rail, instinct with the medieval survivals of to-day. Bri- gands there felt so safe that, instead of troubling to hide in the hills they supped sumptuously, slept defiantly at home,
254 ‘SECRET SOCIETIES
received reports from their emissaries before departing at dawn upor.their criminal rounds.
Poised obliquely on the upper slopes of a remote and soli- tary mountain, some 3,300 feet above the level of the sea, with bilious buildings rising in tiers, Gangi tesembles a pyramid of dice carved out of fresh wood. It commands a vast panorama extending over three-fourths of Sicily, with Etna gleaming in the distance, an undulating patchwork of white almond trees, pale villages and golden fields, lashed with zigzag, thread-like mule-paths.
All the houses of Gangi have two entrances, one at the basement, the other through the roof. These correspond with the lower and upper roads, while laborious circuits are saved by tunnels and passages. And, not content with double entrances and subterranean ways, a local builder, Santo Mocciaro, crafty architect of hiding-places, pro- vided a medieval network of concealment-rooms between ceilings and roofs, cupboards and cabinets concealing secret doors, movable mirrors, false floors. The whole place seemed an ideal labyrinth and sanctuary, but as it turned out later, a discreet use of light and darkness in the streets, plain-clothes men stationed at inconvenient points made it possible to embarrass intermediaries charged with messages and vic- tuals, to constitute an automatic prison and starve the bandits out in their own stronghold.
The most famous of these were Gaetano Ferrarello and Giuseppina Salvo. Ferrarello, who was commonly called the Prefect and possessed absolute powers over his district, was captured in February 1926, after thirty-three years of proscription. His career began at the age of thirty-three, Christ’s age, he was proud to confess; he shot his wife’s lover then and fled to a brigand’s lair in the mountain village of San Mauro Castalverde. He was foiled in an attempt to kill his wife, but conceived such hostility towards the world at large that twenty warrants were soon issued against him for twenty different crimes. He had been born at Gangi and soon transferred his brigand prefecture thither.
But feminism began early in Sicily, and he found a rival in Giuseppina Salvo, a brigand Boadicea, commonly called
MUSSOLINI v. MAFIA 255
Cagnuccia, a disrespectful diminutive of cagna, a female dog. Her father had been killed in a fight between brigands and carabinieri long years ago, whereupon she had devoted her life to vengeance, supported by her three sons, the Andeloros, joint leaders of a band. She had been an absolute terror to the neighbourhood, compelling girls of all the villages to marry members of the Andeloro band. When there were disputes between peasants about landmarks or bargains, she intervened as an arbitrator against whom there could be no appeal. She was a genius for organising false witness in the law-courts, always dressed as a man and went about on horseback to administer her justice; watched over inherit- ances, the collection of debts, the sale of property, the forced migrations of flocks and herds, anything that might help or interest her three brigand sons, all very useful tools of the Mafia. If anybody opposed her, she answered, “‘ One of my sons will settle with you |!”
These were not the courteous Robin Hood brigands: of yore. When they went pillaging they did not ask civilly for loot, as in the days when they submitted to the juris- diction of the Mafia, but started shooting without warning. That was one reason why a certain Lisuzzo broke away from them and founded a fresh band. The rigid discipline of brigandage was now at an end. The triumph of law and order seemed simply a question of time and energy.
But the announcement that the minions of the law in- tended’ to take arms against them fell like a thunderbolt upon the brigands. Usually at Gangi and other villages of the Madonie the roll of drums meant the arrival of fresh fish. But in the small hours of the fateful day which was to sound the knell of brigand oligarchy the population came to their windows to greet drums of a very different intent.
Here was the public crier proclaiming at street corners a telegram from Cesare Mori, Prefect of Palermo, to the Mayor of Gangi.
“Intimate to all bandits,” it ran, “‘ that they are to sur- render within twelve hours, after which I shall take extreme measures against the place.”
This was an absolute breach of ancient traditions, and
256 , SECRET SOCIETIES
never had the oldest inhabitant heard such a peremptory order against the protagonists of omnipotent brigandage. There had ‘always been distinct jurisdictions of brigandage, scrupulously observed, and it was a point of honour that the bands of Palermo, Caltanissetta and Girgenti should not encroach upon each other’s preserves. And now here was the Prefect of Palermo interfering in matters which were surely not his concern. The brigands decided to ignore his threat.
But there entered upon the scene a dark-skinned Calabrian commissary, Spand of Cotrone, an athlete and a sportsman, accustomed to ambushes and hunts and fusillades, hard- ened and experienced. First he sent word to the fierce Ferrarello: “ As you say I am having recourse to treachery for your capture, I offer you an appointment to meet me alone on the path (tvazzera) of such and such a mountain at such and such an hour to-night.”” But Ferrarello had not suffi- cient confidence or courage. So Spano issued a proclama- tion that Ferrarello was a coward. And cowards, he added, are traitors.
Then news came that Dino’s band was at war with Lisuzzo’s, which had seceded from the Andoloros. Spano, dressed as a cavalry officer, chased Dino into Lisuzzo’s territory, whereupon Lisuzzo promptly informed Spano where his enemy was hiding. A shepherd drugged Dino’s wine and Spano caught him. Then, with fifty posses of police, each fifty men strong, Spano rounded up the others, forcing them to take refuge in the labyrinth of Gangi.
Having cut the nerves of the brigands by arresting all their tax-gatherers, the connecting fibres between arms and brains, Spano now had only to reduce the beleaguered des- peradoes to surrender. This he proceeded to do by attack- ing them in their affections and their property. First he arrested their women-folk—a severe blow. But it hurt them still more to lose their flocks and herds after all the pains they had taken to acquire them. Oxen and calves were seized and killed; their carcases were offered for sale at derisive prices. But there was a chance that the old tyrants might return to power, and few consented to pro-
SIEGE OF BRIGANDS’ LAIR 257
fit by the cheapness of the meat, for fear of eventual reprisals. A decisive blow was necessary to prove that brigandage was finally broken, and this was the moment chosen for the crier’s proclamation of the Prefect Mori's ultimatum. Some thousand men, including Mussolini’s blackshirt militia and a number of secret agents, surrounded the mountain fastness with armoured cars.
The siege had begun. It was New Year’s Day 1926, an unhappy New Year for the Mafia. That morning even the carrier was not allowed out to collect the post with all the seasonable cards and good wishes despatched from all parts by the brigands’ friends. Telephones and telegraph wires had been disconnected so as to avoid such pranks as ona previous occasion when the police had set out and the Mafiusi telegraphed a warning to Gangi, ‘“‘ Uncle started ; receive him well.”
This time it was uncle who provided the surprise, and the bandits were driven to surrender. Not a single shot was fired. The terrorism of generations came to a sudden and pusillanimous end.
Gaetano Ferrarello, the old leader, was the first to give himself up. He sent a message that he would not surren- der in his house; but—on his word of honour—would do so in the mayor’s parlour. And he was true to his pledge.
_ He came with great dignity. His white beard made him
look like a patriarch ; his big soft eyes seemed incapable of contemplating crime. In his hand was a big stick, which he handed over like a field-marshal after the defeat of his army.
“IT surrender,’”’ he exclaimed, ‘‘ through love of my un- happy country, for which I desire that peace may be res- tored.”’ And his voice trembled with emotion.
Then others followed no less majestically, emphasising that they yielded not to the police but to the chief of their township. If he chose to hand them over, that was his affair. It would remain on record that they had not suc- cumbed to strangers, but had sacrificed themselves patrioti- cally for the sake of peace.
Giuseppina Salvo, the Cagnuccia, mother of the three
R
258 _ SECRET SOCIETIES
Andeloros, was less dramatic. She slunk from door to door, craving sanctuary from the subjects she had most oppressed, but now “they were in rebellion and chased her out with obloquy until the Carabinieri espied her and took her off, regardless of screams and struggles.
Salvatore Ferrarello, aged twenty-eight, a nephew of the great Gaetano and a member of the Andeloro band, with fifty-four years’ sentences of penal servitude hanging over his head, contrived to remain hidden for four days between the real and false roofs of his house opposite the chemist’s shop. The carabinieri kept watch for him all this time out- side, but discovered him only on the revelation of his pre- sence by a slip and fall. When he was arrested he fainted for lack of food.
Carmelo Andalo, who became a brigand at nineteen and was now twenty-five, fled away in a state of nudity. He was consumptive, and lay in bed when the police came bat- tering at his door. He placed a straw dummy between the sheets and made his escape through a trap-door in the floor. The police heard the thud, but thought it was caused by a goat tied up in the passage. Ugly, emaciated, green in the face, with ruffled hair and mournful eyes, Carmelo went wandering like a dog among the farms of the neighbourhood, but all he found to eat was a cabbage-stalk. The beautiful principles of lawless chivalry were at an end. No one would feed or succour him. Indeed, eighty men of Gangi volun- teered to pursue him and he was caught gnawing his cab- bage stalk.
These eighty men became the nucleus of a ‘‘ committee of action against crime,” the idea being to link the villages and protect them against reprisals if brigandage were ever restored. Hundreds curried favour by withdrawing the false witness they had given at previous prosecutions. Over four hundred prisoners were taken, and there was talk of deporting them to a distant island. In a few days the examining magistrate at Palermo had already accumulated three volumes of evidence against them—a romance in many chapters.
Italian journalists have sought to make Bourbon rule
WILLOWS IN THE WIND 259
responsible for the brigandage, accusing it of backwardness in the matter of roads, schools, water and other sign- manuals of civilisation. But successive Liberal govern- - ment proved more remiss, and the Mafia throve at Messina, Catania, Syracuse and other hives of labour aud commerce.
“We had to endure the brigands because governments did nothing to protect us,” the people pleaded. And that was the incessant refrain from all over the troubled regions.
It may have been proved that brigandage was easy to extinguish by a swift implacable campaign. Mori had but to mobilise a few squadrons, show machine guns, surround villages, take hostages, send a telegram, and the bandits all surrendered without a blow. The glamour of outlawry departed like snow in spring. But people are asking why this simple purge was delayed so long. The answer is that the Mafia was stronger than the events of 1926 seem to suggest. So long as the brigands remained useful tools, the Society protected them. When they grew out of hand, there was no further desire to defend them.
It is quite another question whether Mussolini can utterly destroy a potent institution consecrated by the habits and necessities of succeeding generations, shrouded in mystery and secrecy, led by elusive captains of greater craft and imagination, inspired by even less scruples than any of . Europe’s most successful statesmen. It was one thing to capture four hundred outlaws in their notorious lairs, even to arrest retired Mafia leaders like Signor Cuccia, a Knight of the Crown of Italy. But it may prove quite a different exploit to fight with shadows, hunt ghostly hosts, prosecute unknown leaders against whom none will testify. And ordinary laws will certainly prove less efficient. A few weeks’ imprisonment will not deter theft to the same extent as the Mafia menace of instant death for petty larceny.
I asked an old Prefect of my acquaintance, who has spent his life in the secret service of Italy, whether he thought the Mafia was doomed at last. The tramontana was raging as we stood upon a castle wall.
“‘ See those willows in the wind,” he replied with a subtle smile. “ Follow the newspaper reports during the next
260 * SECRET SOCIETIES
few weeks and you will read of many arrests. These are the hands and brains of the association, you will be told. Yes, scarecrow hands and brains, paraded by spirits behind the scenes. When the storm passes the willows rise again.”
AUTHORITIES
Umilid, Camorrae Mafia. Neuchatel, 1878.
A. Vizzini: La Mafia. Rome, 1880.
Alongi: La Mafia. Turin, 1887.
Corriere della Sera, Secolo, and other Italian papers, February and March, 1926.
ITALIAN EMIGRANTS 261
(7) America
Italian suspects—Mafia and Camorra in U.S.A.—Employment by Ameri- cans—Ku Klux Klan—Founded as a joke—Initiation—Pranks with ghosts —Difficulties with negroes—Degeneration of Klan—Suppression, 1868-9— Revival, 1916—Power and influence—Religious prejudices—Drastic methods —Female branch.
Some confusion has been caused by the fact that the Black Hand and various international societies of criminals in America sought to perplex the police by pretending to be Italian. Before immigration laws became stringent in the United States the whole continent had become a sanctuary for all the desperadoes of the old world, and they found it easy to organise themselves in vast, sparsely populated regions, where discipline was vaguely administered by volun- teers with bowie-knives in bars. In point of fact, the Italians were usually the most law-abiding and laborious of the population, honest fortune-seekers, whose only ambition was to maintain the old folks at home and return as soon as possible with a nest-egg. Visit almost any country in the world, and we find Italians nearly as ubiquitous as Scotsmen, and while the Scots win wealth by unproductive barter, the Italians create wealth by the sweat of their brows, cut continents, pierce moun- tain ranges. I suppose there is scarcely a railway or engineering miracle in the world that is not due to their patient industry. And what frugality, what self-sacrifice, what courage !
But they came with the reputation of black sheep at home —Carbonari, Garibaldians, Camorrists, Mafiusi, and other heroes of long knives in dark lanes,—and it was easy for Chinese cut-throats, mystic Thugs, all the hounded Anar- chists and Nihilists from the civilised world to make innocent Italians their scapegoats. Moreover, Italian immigration had always been on an enormous scale ; the Italian popula- tion of New York is still greater than that of Rome, and
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it is not surprising that goats as well as sheep arrived from Italy, if not in a dangerous proportion.
Many murders at New Orleans were attributed to the Mafia in 1896, but the evidence was scanty and juries ac- quitted the prisoners. Then, according to the custom of the country, wild mobs broke into the gaols, innocent men were hanged, tarred and feathered, tortured and burnt alive. This naturally caused some diplomatic tension between the governments of Italy and the United States, but the excite- ment died a natural death, and for many years little more was heard of Italian secret societies in America.
Both Mafia and Camorra, however, seem to have per- sisted on a small scale in the United States, though there is no proof to connect them with organisations athome. They are probably sporadic emanations of the spirit of conspiracy ingrained among the compatriots of Garibaldi. But the dread name of Mafia was sufficient to inspire submission. For instance, there is a large wholesale lemon trade in New York with various growers competing to secure it. Some years ago a well-dressed Italian rented an office in the World Building and described himself on his door-plate by the one word “ Agent.”” Indeed, he soon proved himself a very effective one, for his Sicilian principals secured practically all the lemon business among the Italians. A_ subtle whisper had gone round that, if dealers did not buy from the growers under this agent’s protection, some- thing unpleasant might easily happen to their families in the neighbourhood of Palermo. The mere rumour of his connection with the Mafia made his visit to America a great financial success.
There are also many influential “ bosses” in New York, who have long traded on the idea that they were connected with the Camorra, and American firms are glad to employ them. A typical case is that of a sewing-machine company, which supplies Italians on the instalment system. At the outset everything proceeds in the ordinary way. Orders are solicited by ordinary canvassers, and nothing unusual occurs until a purchaser falls into arrear. Then quite a different personage comes upon the scene. He has already
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established a reputation for himself in the quarter as a Camorrist leader, and he knows by many crafty little hints and gestures how to convince an Italian that he has all the authority of a relentless society at his back. No definite cases are known of his visiting outrages upon defaulters, but he succeeds in establishing a semi-superstitious fear that is very quick to loosen purse-strings. Most Italians in America believe in the Camorra, just as they believe in the evil eye.
Sometimes the stage-scenery is more elaborately set. A story is told of a well-known Italian importer in New York who had lent three thousand dollars to a compatriot without security. The debtor was in a position to pay, but evidently had no intention of doing so. Friends were consulted, and an application to the Camorra was advised. Then, some days later, the creditor received a mysterious unsigned sum- mons to a cellar in Mott Street. There he found a scene that might have been copied from the films. Skinny, unshaven dagoes crouched about the floor in theatrical positions with glasses in their hands, candles stood in old bottles and the air was thick with cheap tobacco. And there was the unfortunate debtor standing against a wall with a face as though his last hour had struck.
There was a grim silence as the creditor entered, and a peculiarly villainous ruffian broke it by enquiring: “ This man owes you three thousand dollars, does he not?” And on receiving a nod of acquiescence, he turned to the other with a savage order to pay what he justly owed.
The debtor advanced with great reluctance and began counting out notes upon a barrel, stopping from time to time with looks of appeal and enquiry. But the master of the ceremonies merely shook his head every time until the sum of two thousand dollars had been reached. Then he turned to the creditor, who shrugged his shoulders and said, * All right, I'll let it go at that.” This, however, did not seem to be understood, for the debtor was told to go on counting. At first he seemed disinclined to obey, but the growls of the crowd became so menacing that at last the wretched man produced another note, this time for a thousand dollars, and added it to the pile. The chief then
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proceeded to count the money, detached three hundred dollars and. handed over the balance to the creditor.
“ T have taken the Camorra’s commission,” he observed, and the crowd broke out into hearty applause. As the delighted recipient made his way to the door they all ga- thered round him, removing their hats and wishing him the best of good luck. Whether or no they really belonged to any Camorra society, they had shared in a profitable evening, and he for his part felt no inclination to denounce Italian secret societies in the United States.
* * * * * *
Ku Kiux KLAN
After the civil war, the Union was still a dumping-ground for the riffraff of the world, rushing to enrich themselves at a period when minds were being hastily fermented by new inventions and new modes of life. Law and order had been imperfectly developed, and individual associations were found necessary to combat chaos in the absence of settled government. Some were akin to guilds or trade unions, others had a semi-religious origin, others were criminal or frankly fantastic. Some laid claim to mysterious secrecy, though they paraded the streets with big drums and fifes and flags and brightly spangled scarves. The peculiar humour of American settlers displayed itself in such so- cieties as the Corporation of Umbrellas, the Free Loves and the Know-nothings.
Yet, at the back of them all, there were germs of a serious purpose, the purpose which has raised the settlements of nonconformists to the rank of a powerful republic. The following anecdote from contemporary memoirs illustrates the point of view.
““T was at Sant’ Antonio de Bejar, in Texas, at a hotel kept by a German. Some thirty men came in to dinner, including a dozer Americans from the South belonging to the class known as rowdies, gamblers and fortune-hunters, with a revolver always visible at their waists. They came in
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noisily, seized upon the best seats and began talking volubly about the Know-nothings, a secret society restricted to per- sons born in the United States and pledged to exterminate Catholics. ‘Immigration,’ they said, ‘must be arrested, for we have no more room than we need for ourselves and our descendants.’ The German landlord broke into the con- versation and expressed his admiration for the Know- nothings. ‘But,’ he observed, ‘ there are Europeans who have been naturalised, or are about to become so, and they are just as capable of governing the country as the natives, or, I should rather say, as those who came here earlier, for the only real natives are the redskins. Here, for instance, is Senator Dumont, a Frenchman, who has proved himself as capable of governing as any man born on the soil.’ At these words one of the rowdies struck the landlord a violent blow across the head and pulled out his revolver with a frightful oath Fortunately some one beat up his arm and he was overpoweied, otherwise he would certainly have fired six charges into his defenceless critic.”’
Such was the state of effervescence in the Southern States after the civil war. The Northerners, with their strong views about slavery, were flooding the South under the name of carpet-baggers and inciting the emancipated slaves to assert themselves. Meanwhile, the Southerners were doing all they could to impede emancipation, the disillusioned blacks began to threaten the lives and property of the whites, and the whites retorted with lynch-law and other severities.
It was then that the Ku Klux Klan arose. In process of time this society became the chief bulwark of the South- erners for combating the carpet-baggers, the Union idea, the Republican party and the emancipation of slaves, or, as they preferred to put it, the Black peril. But at the outset it was merely the somewhat feeble joke of a few young men who found time hanging heavily on their hands.
The birthplace of the Ku Klux Klan was Pulaski, the capital of Giles, middle Tennessee. Most of the inhabitants had been ruined by the war ; there was very little business and a total lack of amusement. In May, 1866, a number of young men, lounging in a derelict office, were lamenting the
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general stagnation, and one of them exclaimed, “ Say, boys, let us get ap a club or something.” No sooner said than done. There were six original founders, and one of them suggested the name Kuklos, Greek for a circle. Another, who had no Greek, replied, ‘“ All right, Ku Klux!” and that, for its very silliness, was welcomed as an improvement. Klan was added by an humorous Scotsman.
“So,” comments an American historian, “instead of adopting a name with a definite meaning, as was the original intention, they chose one, which, to the proposer and every- one else, was absolutely meaningless. Looking back over the history of the Klan and the origins of its development, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that the Order would never have grown into the proportions it assumed, or wielded the power it did, if it had not borne this name. Had they called themselves the Jolly Jokers or the Adelphi or any- thing similarly commonplace, they would have had no more than the local and ephemeral existence which its organisers originally intended. There is a weird potency in the name Ku Klux Klan. The sound of it suggests bones rattling together or a xylophone, and the members were the first to feel its influence. They had adopted a fantastic name, so their plan was modified in order to bring everything into harmony with the name. Amusement was still the end in view, but now the methods for attaining it were to be secrecy and mystery.”
Fantastic names were given to the officials, such as the Grand Cyclops and his Owls, the Grand Turk, the Grand Wizard, the Grand Dragon with his six Hydras, the Grand Titan and his six Furies, the Grand Monk and the Grand Chessboard. The meeting places were known as Dens and each guarded by two Lictors. There was no thought of the magnificent Knight of to-day, mystic and wonderful as he gallops through moonlit glades in white raiment. Absurdity and secrecy alone were insisted upon, and each might dress as he pleased, so long as his features were hidden. The hoods and dominoes came later. The fun was provided by frightening negroes, rousing and baffling the curiosity of the public, and playing practical jokes on new members
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at their initiation. In the early days a certain standard of manners was exacted. Indeed, the members went so far as to say that they admitted only gentlemen. Noisy and bibulous men were ruled out. Discretion and secrecy were essential. None must admit his membership to outsiders or reveal the membership of another or solicit any one to become a member.
Sometimes ineligible candidates persisted in seeking admission and rough measures were used to discourage them. One young man was very persistent but con- sidered too young. However, a Lictor at last consented to receive him and led him blindfold to a secluded spot, where he was left with orders to await his summons. But the summons never came, and it was only after hours of weary waiting that he tore the bandage from his eyes and returned home humbled.
Another undesirable was taken to the top of a hill that rises by a gentle slope to a considerable height outside Pu- laski. Here he was led into the presence of the Grand Cyclops, who was found standing on a tree-stump. The tall hat, the flowing robe and the elevated position made him appear no less than fifteen feet tall, and he proceeded to address a few absurd questions to the candidate. Then he turned to the Lictors, saying, “‘ Blindfold him and proceed.” The procedure in this case was to place him in a barrel and send him rolling down the hill.
The Klan methods, however, were not always so gentle. Later on, when Brownlow’s administration was attempting to crush the society, one of his detectives sought to secure admission. Thereupon the members of the Nashville Den put him into a barrel and rolled it into the Cumberland river, where he was drowned.
These details, though apparently trivial, have an im- portant bearing upon the subsequent history of the Klan. They show that the original members were not meditating any sort of lawlessness. Yet the Klan’s later history grew out of the measures and methods which characterised this period.
During the ceremonies of initiation, especially when they
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took place at night, sentinels prowled around in their white robes, frightening away strangers by all sorts of wild cries and announcements that they were ghosts of Confederate soldiers. Meanwhile, groans and howls resounded from the bushes, and uproarious tumults from the Den, where all sorts of frolics accompanied the investiture. The belated workman or the superstitious negro came home with fearful tales of monsters and demons, resolved to give the Klan meeting-places a wide berth for the future.
In 1866 and 1876 the Klan grew rapidly, young men coming in from the country to claim admission and returning to open Dens in their own villages. The connecting links between Dens were very fragile, though the Pulaski Klan was regarded as the source of power and authority. Still, nothing more than amusement was contemplated ; the members enjoyed the baffled curiosity and wild speculations of a mystified public even more than the rude sport afforded by the grotesque initiations.
At the same time the members contrived to mystify them- selves. While outsiders deduced serious intentions from the rapid growth of the society, new members could not al- together believe that the proceedings were merely a joke. There was not a word in the ritual or a hint in any part of the, ceremonies to support such a conclusion, but it was difficult to believe that the high-sounding titles, the fantastic dress, the formidable obligations, all the mystery and se- crecy could be purposeless. It was in vain for the original members to pooh-pooh such ideas. That was regarded as part of their deep-laid plots, and the attitude of the great majority continued to be that of expecting some great development. Each had his own idea as to what the work would be, but the idea that some work was being prepared seemed ineradicable. And as the members belonged to the same class, with the same views and grievances, they were certain that the work would be to their taste.
With these ideas in their minds, it was natural that mem- bers should urge one another to extend the activities of the Klan from mere frolic to the service of the public weal. There was a certain amount of hesitation, and no formal vote
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was passed, but circumstances soon forced the hands of the society.
In March, 1867, the American Senate voted the Acts of Reconstruction for a final settlement of all the problems raised by the war. But the Senate consisted largely of Northerners in complete ignorance of Southern conditions. One of their aims was the complete assimilation of whites and blacks, but the only effect of preaching such doctrines was to persuade the blacks that they could now live at the public expense. They were now ladies and gentlemen, work was beneath their dignity, and, if board and lodging were denied them, it was evidently their duty to exact them by force. They were superior in numbers and began to assert their superiority by persecuting the whites.
In this they were encouraged by doctrinaire Northerners, who imagined they had been fighting for the emancipation of negroes and were therefore responsible for the welfare of their protégés. Accordingly, they secured the establish- ment of concentration camps, where unemployed negroes should be maintained, and these camps became centres of agitation against the whites of the South.
To make matters worse, a desperate and dangerous or- ganisation now arose, known as the Union League some- times as the Loyal League. It enrolled the worst elements of the negro population and was controlled by unscrupulous white men, who hoped that their own lawless deeds would be attributed to the blacks. They held frequent meetings, went about armed to the teeth and committed violent aggressions upon the persons, families and property of men whose sole crime was to have served in the Confederate army.
A poignant appeal for help came from the victims of negro persecution in the Southern States, and the members of the Klan themselves, for the most part demobilised Confederate soldiers, could not be expected to turn a deaf ear, more especially as they possessed an organisation ready to hand. As old soldiers, they found it easy to impose a discipline that the Klan had not previously needed. It was their mission to defend the widow and the orphan and all such as the Acts of Reconstruction had left unarmed in a region dominated
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by blacks. They regarded the danger as one of life and death for their own people. Nor were they less exasperated against those white-skinned men who showed a tendency to associate with negroes and encourage them in their crimes.
For a while, however, the Klan contented themselves with playing upon the fears of negroes, haunting them when they were engaged upon criminal courses and often convincing them that they were pursued by soldier’s ghosts. All sorts of conjuring tricks were employed with skeletons and de- tachable heads, and the Klan could boast of their success in deterring men from evil deeds. And the mystery had one advantage, in that it made the Klan seem more numerous than they were. For instance, in July, 1867, they held a demonstration in the streets of Nashville and were reported to number twenty thousand, while an experienced old general declared that they could not be less than four thousand. In point of fact, they were less than five hundred. They pro- ceeded all over the city in an endless procession, crossing and re-crossing, disappearing and re-forming, so as to convey the impression of a formidable army.
Presently they went in mounted squadrons to places where crimes were being committed, carried off negroes to the forests and subjected them to fierce castigation. In more serious cases they hanged a culprit and exposed his corpse in his own village as a warning to his fellows.
Their vigour soon had a salutary effect. Wherever the Klan appeared, robberies ceased and lawless folk learned lessons of self-control. But it became apparent in 1867 that the Klan was degenerating through lack of proper control. Rash and evil men had been admitted during the period of panic, and there was no machinery for bringing them to book when they committed excesses. Some of the leaders began to talk of disbandment, but that would have been difficult, owing to the looseness and imperfection of the organisation. The tie which bound members and Dens together was too shadowy to be cut or undone. A spirit had been called up and could not be laid.
Accordingly, steps were taken to bind together isolated Dens, to secure concerted action and to restrain individuals
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by a code of rules. But still the Klan deteriorated. Deeds of violence were committed without authority for private spite or revenge. Then negroes and unauthorised whites began to commit outrages in the Klan disguise, and, even when they were caught, their proceedings sapped the credit of the society. Every disorder was attributed to the Klan, even after it had executed some of its own members for unauthorised violence. The negroes plucked up courage and formed military organisations to make war upon the Klan. As the Klan never explained their actions, it was natural that they should be misunderstood, and general hostility towards them spread among the public. They were attacked and fired upon without provocation, and their reprisals only made matters worse.
Indeed, the situation became so bad that a statute was passed in 1869, at the instance of Governor Brownlow, to suppress the Klan, and a reign of terror ensued. Association with the Klan, in the present or the past, was made a penal offence ; the wives and children of members were harried and outlawed; and, according to an indulgent historian, “ driven to desperation, these men did many things which the world has been slow to excuse.”
Then, in March, 1868, the Grand Wizard issued a proclamation declaring the dissolution of the Ku Klux Klan. Members were to burn all their regalia and paraphernalia and desist from any further assemblies or activities. Obedience was prompt and implicit, and it was not until nearly fifty years later that the society emerged from its long slumbers. —
The new Ku Klux Klan was founded in 1916 by William Joseph Simmons, a Methodist preacher, taking over the old name and garb, but assuming far more extensive aims. Secrecy and devotion are enforced by the death penalty. There is no longer any idea of providing amusement for young soldiers at a loose end, or of frightening negroes with skulls and conjuring tricks. Opponents may ridicule the white robes and masks by irreverent references to bed- sheets and pillow-slips, but the brethren take themselves in deadly earnest. When they attend their religious services in serried ranks, burn fiery crosses at funerals, hold melo-
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dramatic meetings at midnight at cross-roads, entrenched amid thousands of motor-cars covered with white cloths, they have a definite campaign in view. They shrink from no form of terrorism, beat, tar, feather, persecute implacably all breakers of what they consider the moral law. They have established their claim to be regarded as an Invisible Empire, issuing fearful decrees from an Invisible Palace. They possess vast funds, having received two pounds as an entrance fee from each member, and more for admission to the higher ranks. When their “ Emperor ” and founder, Simmons, retired, in 1924, he was presented with thirty thousand pounds in cash, a palatial house in Georgia, and an income of two hundred pounds a month. The member- ship is variously estimated between 1,500,000 and 5,000,000. There are 250,000 members in Texas, 100,000 in New York. In Texas, the Government, the House of Representatives, the Senate, and most of the judges and policemen are mem- bers of the Klan. The politics of Maine, Colorado, Indiana and Oregon are entirely dominated by the Society, and it also exercises great influence in several Southern States, including its native Tennessee. It is more vigorous where Catholics are few, more vigorous in the country districts than in the towns. Its chief development was during the great war, but it has advanced in power and uncanny in- fluence ever since.
Outwardly it is a philanthropic, moral, religious and pa- triotic organisation. It pleads for the Bible in the schools, denounces the use of alcohol, cherishes Puritan traditions, believes in America for the Americans. Now that negroes are no longer a menace, it concentrates against all foreigners ; that is to say, against all persons born outside the United States, and especially against Jews, Irishmen, Catholics or immigrants from South and South-Eastern Europe.
In an official pamphlet entitled: ‘‘ Ideals of the Ku Klux Klan,” we read :
“This is a white man’s organisation, exalting the Caucasian race and teaching the doctrine of white su- premacy. This does not mean that we are the enemies
RELIGIOUS AND RACIAL PREJUDICES 273
of the coloured or mongrel races. But it does mean that we are organised to establish the solidarity and to realise the mission of the white race. This is a Gentile organisa- tion, and as such has for its mission the interpretation of the highest ideals of the white, Gentile peoples. We sing no hymns of hate against the Jew. He is interested in his own things, and we are exercising the same privilege of banding our own kind together in order that we may realise the highest and best possible for ourselves. It is an American organisation, and we do restrict membership to native-born American citizens. Recent immigrants are here to serve the interests of the lands from which they came, regardless of the interests of this land in which they make their homes and seek their fortunes. It is a Pro- testant organisation. Membership is restricted to those who accept the tenets of true Christianity, which is essentially Protestant.’’*
“ It is accordingly clear,” writes Father Wilfrid Parsons, a well-known American Jesuit, ‘“‘that this Society is animated by racial and religious prejudices. Those of its members who are sincere—and no doubt there are many such—cherish patriotic intentions, which have been twisted by their leaders for various purposes. The members of the Klan truly believe that the Catholic Church is a menace to the free institutions of the United States. Have they not behind them several centuries filled with prejudices concerning the practices and doctrines of the Church? These prejudices are further aggravated by the regrettable fact that the immi- grants of the last twenty years—Catholics for the most part —live together in colonies, speaking their own languages, founding their own schools, newspapers and churches, almost entirely separating themselves from the American life and thought—European islets in the United States. Who are the chiefs and organisers of the Klan? For the most part, it has been shown that they are persons leading a despicable existence and utilising this powerful organisa- tion for various personal, financial and political ends. No doubt the motive power is constituted by a group of Protes- * This is translated from a translation and may not be verbally correct.
S
274 . SECRET SOCIETIES
tant ministers,:some of whom hope thus to bring back the masses tg the obedience of their churches, while others are seeking to control the politics of the United States. It has been justly said that the Klan is ‘the secular arm of the Methodist Church.’ The droll side of the affair is that one of their demands is for the separation of Church and State, while the practical tendency of the Society inclines to the union of the State with the Church, provided always that their own Church is understood thereby.”’
The militant Protestantism of the society was displayed in 1926 by a public expression of sympathy with the Mexican Government during its campaign of persecution against the Roman Catholic Church, and the following telegram, des- patched from Toronto by the Havas Agency on the 22nd of June, 1926, is also significant :
“ An Irishman, arrested on a charge of having at- tempted to blow up a Catholic church in the Province of Ontario with dynamite, declared to the police that he had been commissioned by the Ku Klux Klan, which he had recently joined, to destroy the edifice in question.”’
The political attitude of the Klan was illustrated in 1920 by an attempt to deport Albert Thomas, Arthur Henderson and other Socialists as undesirable and revolutionary foreign- ers when they attended an international Labour Convention at Washington; and again in 1925, when they prevented Arthur Henderson from making a speech at Hartford, Connecticut, on the ground that he was an exponent of sub- versive ideas.
Enemies accuse the Klan of being a murder association, and its methods are certainly drastic. Ifa Jew, Catholic or foreigner chances to offend the Invisible Empire, he soon finds a notice on his door bidding him “‘ get out of the dust ” within an hour ; should he disregard this, a mob of masked men presently appears and hustles him across the frontier with grievous mishandling; while for more serious mis- demeanours the death penalty is exacted without hesitation. Innumerable cases have been reported of men and women undergoing terrible tortures and negroes being burnt alive.
KU KLUX KLAN OUTRAGES 275
Thirty persons were beheaded with axes one night in Ala- bama, and their families dared make no complaint to the police lest they should be pursued by the vengeance of the Klan. During the summer of 1923 the tale of outrages surpassed any that had gone before, and a state of siege had to be proclaimed in Oklahoma. A girl of fourteen was flogged to death near Texascana. At Port Arthur, Texas, two brothers were mishandled in front of the police-station while armed men kept the representatives of justice at bay. Often, after a savage flogging, the bleeding backs of the victims would be branded with the letters K. K. K.
A female branch of the society, known as the Camellia, was founded in 1923, and has already earned a reputation for fanaticism and cruelty surpassing any to be found in the male ranks of the Methodists’ secular arm.
AUTHORITIES
W.C. Witcher: Ku Klux Klan Exposed.
Henry P. Frey: Modern Ku Klux Klan.
W.H.T. Dan: Weighed and Found Wanting.
Julia Johnson: Ku Klux Klan. 1923.
A, Preuss: Secret and Other Societies. St. Louis and London,
1924.
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