Chapter XII: Part 12

The best system that is acted upon in the Penitentiary at Philadelphia, where there is solitary confinement, but with labour and exercise. Mr Samuel Wood, who superintends this establishment, is a person admirably calculated for his task, and I do not think that any arrangements could be better, or the establishment in more excellent hands. But my object was, not so much to view the prison and witness the economy of it, as to examine the prisoners themselves, and hear what their opinions were. The surgeon may explain the operation, but the patient who has undergone it is the proper person to apply to, if you wish to know the degree and nature of the pain inflicted. I requested, therefore, and obtained permission, to visit a portion of the prisoners without a third party being present to prevent their being communicative; selecting some who had been in but a short time, others who had been there for years, and referring also to the books, as to the nature and degree of their offence. I ought to state that I re-examined almost the whole of the parties about six months afterward, and the results of the two examinations are now given. I did not take their names, but registered them in my notes as No. 1, 2, 3, etcetera.

No. 1--a man who had been sentenced to twelve years' imprisonment for the murder of his wife. He had been bred up as a butcher. (I have observed that when the use of the knife is habitual, the flinching which men naturally feel at the idea of driving it into a fellow-creature, is overcome; and a man who is accustomed to dissect the still palpitating carcasses of animals, has very little compunction in resorting to the knife in the event of collision with his own race.) This fellow looked a butcher; his face and head were all animal; he was by no means intelligent. He was working at a loom, and had already been confined for seven years and a half. He said that, after the first six months of his confinement, he had lost all reckoning of time, and had not cared to think about it until lately, when he inquired, and was told how long he had been locked up. Now that he had discovered that more than half his time had passed away, it occupied his whole thoughts, and sometimes he felt very impatient.

Mr Wood told me afterwards that this feeling, when the expiration of the sentence was very near at hand, sometimes amounted to agony.

This man had denied the murder of his wife, and still persisted in the denial, although there was no doubt of his having committed the crime. Of course, in this instance there was no repentance; and the Penitentiary was thrown away upon him, farther than that, for twelve years, he could not contaminate society.

No. 2--sentenced to four years' imprisonment for forgery; his time was nearly expired. This was a very intelligent man; by profession he had been a schoolmaster. He had been in prison before for the same offence.

His opinion as to the Penitentiary was, that it could do no harm, and might do much good. The fault of the system was one which could not well be remedied, which was, that there was degradation attached to it. Could punishment undergone for crime be viewed in the same way as repentance was by the Almighty, and a man, after suffering for his fault, re-appear in the world with clean hands, and be admitted into society as before, it would be attended with the very best effects; but there was no working out the degradation. When he was released from his former imprisonment, he had been obliged to fly from the place where he was known. He was pursued by the harshness of the world, not only in himself, but in his children. No one would allow that his punishment had wiped away his crime, and this was the reason why people, inclined to be honest, were driven again into guilt. Not only would the world not encourage them, but it would not permit them to become honest; the finger of scorn was pointed wherever they were known, or found out, and the punishment after release was infinitely greater than that of the prison itself.

Miss Martineau observes, "I was favoured with the confidence of a great number of the prisoners in the Philadelphia Penitentiary, where absolute seclusion is the principle of punishment. Every one of these prisoners (none of them being aware of the existence of any other) told me that he was under obligations to those who had charge of him for treating him `with respect.'"

No 3--a very intelligent, but not educated man: imprisoned three years for stealing. He had only been a few months in the penitentiary, but had been confined for ten years in Sing Sing prison for picking pockets. I asked him his opinion as to the difference of treatment in the two establishments. He replied, "In Sing Sing the punishment is corporal-- here it is more mental. In Sing Sing there was little chance of a person's reformation, as the treatment was harsh and brutal, and the feelings of the prisoners were those of indignation and resentment."

Their whole time was occupied in trying how they could deceive their keepers, and communicate with each other by every variety of stratagem. Here a man was left to his own reflections, and at the same time he was treated like a _man_. Here he was his own tormentor; at Sing Sing he was tormented by others. A man was sent to Sing Sing for doing wrong to others; when there, he was quite as much wronged himself. Two wrongs never made a right. Again, at Sing Sing they all worked in company, and knew each other; when they met again, after they were discharged, they enticed one another to do wrong again. He was convinced that no man left Sing Sing a better man than he went in. He here felt very often that he could become better--perhaps he might. At all events his mind was calm, and he had no feelings of resentment for his treatment. He had now leisure and quiet for self-examination, if he chose to avail himself of it. At Sing Sing there was great injustice and no redress. The infirm man was put to equal labour with the robust, and punished if he did not perform as much. The flogging was very severe at Sing Sing. He once ventured to express his opinion that such was the case, and (to prove the contrary he supposed) they awarded him eighty-seven lashes for the information.

That many of this man's observations, in the parallel drawn between the two establishments, are correct, must be conceded; but still some of his assertions must be taken with due reservation, as it is evident that he had no very pleasant reminiscences of his ten years' geological studies in Sing Sing.

No. 4--an Irishman; very acute. He had been imprisoned seven years for burglary, and his time would expire in a month. He had been confined also in Walnut-street prison, Philadelphia, for two years previous to his coming here. He said that it was almost impossible for any man to reform in that prison, although some few did. He had served many years in the United States navy. He declared that his propensity to theft was only strong upon him when under the influence of liquor, or tobacco, which latter had the same effect upon him as spirits. He thought that he was reformed now; the reason why he thought so was, that he now liked work, and had learnt a profession in the prison, which he never had before. He considered himself a good workman, as he could make a pair of shoes in a day. He cannot now bear the smell of liquor or tobacco. (This observation must have been from imagination, as he had no opportunity in the Penitentiary of testing his dislike.) He ascribed all his crimes to ardent spirits. He was fearful of only one thing: his time was just out, and where was he to go? If known to have been in the prison, he would never find work. He knew a fact which had occurred, which would prove that he had just grounds for his fear. A tailor, who had been confined in Walnut-street prison with him, had been released as soon as his time was up. He was an excellent workman, and resolved for the future to be honest. He obtained employment from a master tailor in Philadelphia, and in three months was made foreman. One of the inspectors of Walnut-street prison came in for clothes, and his friend was called down to take the measures. The inspector recognised him, and as soon as he left the shop told his master that he had been in the Walnut-street prison. The man was in consequence immediately discharged. He could obtain no more work, and in a few months afterwards found his way back again to Walnut-street prison for a fresh offence.

No. 5--a fine intelligent Yankee, very bold in bearing. He was in the penitentiary under a false name, being well connected had been brought up as an architect and surveyor, and was imprisoned for having counterfeit bank notes in his possession. This fellow was a regular lawyer, and very amusing; it appeared as if nothing could subdue his elasticity of spirit. He said that he did not think that he should be better for his incarceration; on the contrary, that it would produce very bad effects. "I am punished," said he, "not for having passed counterfeit notes, but for having them in my possession. The facts are, I had lost all my money by gambling; and then the gamblers, to make me amends, gave me some of their counterfeit notes, which they always have by them. I do not say that I should not have uttered them; I believe that in my distress I should have done so; but I had not exactly made up my mind. At all events, _I had not_ passed them when, from information given, I was taken up. This is certain, that not having passed them, it is very possible for a man to have forged notes in his possession without being aware of it; but this was not considered by my judges, although it ought to have been, as I had never been brought up before; and I have now been sentenced to exactly the same term of imprisonment as those who were convicted of passing them. Now, this I consider as unfair; my punishment is too severe for my offence, and that always does harm--it creates a vindictive feeling, and a desire to revenge yourself for the injustice done to you.

"Now, sir," continued he, "I should have no objection to compromise; if they would reduce my punishment one-half, I would acknowledge the justice of it, and turn honest when I go out again; but, if I am confined here for three years, why, it is my opinion, that I shall revenge myself upon society as soon as I am turned loose again." This was said in a very cheerful, playful manner, as he stood up before his loom. A more energetic expression, a keener grey eye, I never met with. There was evidently great daring of soul in this man.

No 6--had only been confined six weeks; his offence was stealing pigs, and his companion in the crime had been sent here with him. He declared that he was innocent, and that he had been committed by false swearing. There is no country in the world where there is so much perjury as in the United States, if I am to believe the Americans themselves; but Mr Wood told me that he was present at the trial, and that there was no doubt of their guilt. This man was cheerful and contented; he was working at the loom, and had already become skilful. All whom I had seen up to the present had employment of some sort or other, and should have passed over this man, as I had done some others, if it had not been for the contrast between him and his companion.

No. 7--His companion or accomplice. In consequence of the little demand for the penitentiary manufactures this man had no employment. The first thing he told me was that he had nothing to do, and was very miserable. He earnestly requested me to ask for employment for him. He cried bitterly while he spoke, was quite unmanned and depressed, and complained that he had not been permitted to hear from his wife and children. The want of employment appeared to have completely prostrated this man; although confined but six weeks, he had already lost the time, and inquired of me the day of the week and the month.

No. 8--was at large. He had been appointed apothecary to the prison; of course he was not strictly confined, and was in a comfortable room. He was a shrewd man, and evidently well educated; he had been reduced to beggary by his excesses, and being too proud to work, he had not been too proud to commit forgery. I had a long conversation with him, and he made some sensible remarks upon the treatment of prisoners, and the importance of delegating the charge of prisoners to competent persons. His remarks also upon American juries were very severe, and, as I subsequently ascertained, but too true.

No. 9--a young woman about nineteen, confined for larceny; in other respects a good character. She was very quiet and subdued, and said that she infinitely preferred the solitude of the penitentiary to the company with which she must have associated had she been confined in a common gaol. She did not appear at all anxious for the expiration of her term. Her cell was very neat, and ornamented with her own hands in a variety of ways. I observed that she had a lock of hair on her forehead which, from the care taken of it, appeared to be a favourite, and, as I left the cell, I said--"You appear to have taken great pains with that lock of hair, considering that you have no one to look at you?"--"Yes, sir," replied she; "and if you think that vanity will desert a woman, even in the solitude of a penitentiary, you are mistaken."

When I visited this girl a second time, her term was nearly expired; she told me that she had not the least wish to leave her cell, and that, if they confined her for two years more, she was content to stay. "I am quite peaceful and happy here," she said, and I believe she really spoke the truth.

No. 10--a free mulatto girl, about eighteen years of age, one of the most forbidding of her race, and with a physiognomy perfectly brutal; but she evidently had no mean opinion of her own charms: her woolly hair was twisted into at least fifty short plaits, and she grinned from ear to ear as she advanced to meet me. "Pray, may I inquire what you are imprisoned for?" said I.--"Why, sir," replied she, smirking, smiling, and coquetting, as she tossed her head right and left,--"If you please, sir, I was put in here for poisoning a _whole family_." She really appeared to think that she had done a very praiseworthy act. I inquired of her if she was aware of the heinousness of her offence. "Yes, she knew it was wrong, but if her mistress beat her again as she had done, she thought she would do it again. She had been in prison three years, and had four more to remain." I asked her if the fear of punishment--if another incarceration for seven years would not prevent her from committing such a crime a second time. "She didn't know; she didn't like being shut up--found it very tedious, but still she thought--was not quite sure--but she thought that, if ill-treated, she should certainly do it again."

I paid a second visit to this amiable young lady, and asked her what her opinion was then.--"Why, she had been thinking, but had not exactly made up her mind--but she still thought--indeed, she was convinced--that she _should do it again_."

I entered many other cells, and had conversations with the prisoners but I did not elicit from them any thing worth narrating. There is, however, a great deal to be gained from the conversation which I have recorded. It must be remembered, that observations made by one prisoner, which struck me as important, if not made by others, were put as questions by me; and I found that the opinions of the most intelligent, although differently expressed, led to the same result-- that the present system of the Philadelphia penitentiary was the best that had been invented. As the schoolmaster said, if it did no good, it could do no harm. There is one decided advantage in this system, which is, that they all learn a trade, if they had not one before; and, when they leave the prison, have the means of obtaining an honest livelihood, if they wish so to do themselves, _and are permitted so to do by others_. Here is the stumbling-block which neutralises almost all the good effects which might be produced by the penitentiary system. The severity and harshness of the world; the unchristianlike feeling pervading society, which denies to the penitent what individually they will have to plead for themselves at the great tribunal, and which will not permit that punishment, awarded and suffered, can expiate the crime; on this point, there is no hope of a better feeling being engendered. Mankind have been, and will be, the same; and it is only to be hoped that we may receive more mercy in the next world than we are inclined to extend toward our fellow-creatures in this.

As I have before observed, I care little for the observations or assertions of directors or of officers entrusted with the charge of the penitentiaries and houses of correction; they are unintentionally biased, and things that appear to them to be mere trifles are very often extreme hardships to the prisoners. It is not only what the body suffers, but what the mind suffers, which must be considered; and it is from the want of this consideration that arise most of the defects in those establishments, not only in America, but everywhere else.

During my residence in the United States, a little work made its appearance, which I immediately procured; it was the production of an American, a scholar, once in the best society, but who, by intemperance, had forfeited his claim to it. He wrote the very best satirical poem I ever read by an American, full of force, and remarkable for energetic versification; but intemperance, the prevalent vice of America, had induced him to beggary and wretchedness, he was (by his own request I understand) shut up in the house of correction at South Boston, that he might, if possible, be reclaimed from intemperance; and, on his leaving it, he published a small work, called "The Rat-Trap, or Cogitations of a Convict in the House of Correction." This work bears the mark of a reflective, although buoyant mind; and as he speaks in the highest terms of Mr Robbins, the master, and bestows praise generally when deserved, his remarks, although occasionally jocose, are well worthy of attention and I shall, therefore, introduce a few of them to the reader.

His introduction commences thus:--

"I take it for granted that one of every two individuals in this _most moral community in the world_ has been, will be, or deserves or fears to be, in the house of correction. Give every man his deserts, and who shall escape whipping? This book must, therefore, be interesting, and will have a good circulation--not, perhaps, in this state alone. The state spends its money for the above institution, and, therefore, has a right to know what it is; a knowledge which can never be obtained from the reports of the authorities, the cursory observations of visitors, or the statements of ignorant and exasperated convicts.

"`What thief e'er felt the halter draw,
With good opinion of the law.'

"It has been my aim to furnish such knowledge, and it cannot be denied that I have had the best opportunities to obtain it."

To show the prevalence of intemperance in this country among the better classes, read the following:--

"On entering the wool-shop, a man nodded to me, whom I immediately recognised as a lawyer of no mean talent, who had, at no very distant period, been an ornament of society, and a man well esteemed for many excellent qualities, all of which are now forgotten, while his only fault, intemperance, remains engraven on steel. This was not his first term, or his second, or his third. At this time of writing he is discharged, a sober man, anxious for employment, which he cannot get. His having been in the house of correction shuts every door against him, and he must have more than ordinary firmness if he does not relapse again. From my inmost soul I pity him. Another aged man I recognised as a doctor of medicine: his grey hairs would have been venerable in any other place."

The labour in this house of correction which he describes is chiefly confined to wool-picking, stone-cutting, and blacksmiths' work. The fare he states to be plentiful, but not of the very best quality. Speaking of ill-treatment, he says:--

"The convicts all have the privilege of complaint against officers; but while I was there no one used it but myself. I believe they dared not. The officer would probably deny or gloss over the cause of complaint, and his word would be believed rather than that of the convict; and his power of retaliation is so tremendous, that few would care to brave it. The chance is ten to one that a complaint to the directors would be falsified and proved fruitless; and the visit of the governor, council, and magistrates, for the purpose of inquiry, is mere matter of form. When they asked me if I had reason to complain of my treatment, I answered in the negative, because I really had none; but had they asked me if there was any defect in the institution, I would have pointed out a good many."

The monotony of their existence is well described:--

"Few incidents chequered the monotony of our existence. `Who has got a piece of steel in his eye?'--`Who has gone to the hospital?'--`How many came to-day in the carry-all?' were almost the only questions we could ask. A man falling from the new prison, and breaking his bones in a fashion not to be approved, was a conversational godsend. One day the retiring tide left a small box on the sands at the bottom of the house of correction wharf, which was picked up by a convict, and found to contain the bequest of some woman who had `loved not wisely, but too well,' namely, a pair of new-born infants. In my mind, their fate was happy. If they never knew woman's tenderness, neither did they ever know woman's falsehood. There is less pleasure than pain in this bad world, and the earlier we take leave of it the better."

He complains of due regard not being paid to the cleanliness of the prisoners:--

"A great defect in the police of the house was the want of baths. We were shaved, or rather scraped, but once a week. Washing one's face and hands in ice-cold water of a winter morning, is little better than no ablution at all. The harbour water is interdicted, lest the convicts should swim away, and in the stone-shop there are no conveniences for bathing whatever: they would cost something! In the wool-shop, forty men have one tubful of warm water once a-week. When I say that shirts are worn a week in summer, and (as well as drawers) two or three weeks in winter, it will at once be conceded that some farther provision for personal cleanliness is imperatively demanded. I hope neither this nor any other remark I may think fit to make will be taken as emanating from a fault-finding spirit, since, while I pronounce upon the disease, I suggest the remedy."

Speaking of his companions, he says:--

"I had expected to find myself linked with a band of most outrageous ruffians, but such did not prove to be the case. Few of them were decidedly of a vicious temperament. The great fault with them seemed to be a want of moral knowledge and principle. Were I to commit a theft I should think myself unworthy to live an instant; but some of them spoke of the felonies for which they were adjudged to suffer with as much _nonchalance_ as if they were the every-day business of life, without scruple and without shame. Few of them denied the justice of their sentences; and if they expressed any regret, it was not that they had sinned, but that they had been detected. The duration of the sentence, the time or money lost, the physical suffering, was what filled their estimate of their condition. Many had groans and oaths for a lost dinner, a night in the cells, or a tough piece of work, but none had a tear for the branding infamy of their conviction. Yet some, even of the most hardened, faltered, and spoke with quivering lip and glistening eye, when they thought of their parents, wives, and children. The flinty Horeb of their souls sometimes yielded gushing streams to the force of that appeal. But there were very few who felt any shame on their own account. Their apathy on the point of honour was amazing. A young man, not twenty-five years old, in particular, made his felonies his glory, and boasted that he had been a tenant of half the prisons in the United States. He was sentenced to four years' imprisonment for stealing a great number of pieces of broadcloth, which he unblushingly told me he had lodged in the hands of a receiver of stolen goods, and expected to receive the value at the expiration of his sentence. He relied on the proverbial `honour among thieves.' That fellow ought to be kept in safe custody the remainder of his natural life."

Certainly those remarks do not argue much for the reformation of the culprit.

By his account, a parsimony in every point appears to be the great desideratum aimed at. Speaking of the chaplain to the institution, he says:--

"Small blame to him; I honour and respect the man, though I laugh at the preacher. And I say, that seven hundred and thirty sermons _per annum_, for three hundred dollars and a weekly dinner, are quite pork enough for a shilling. No man goeth a warfare on his own charges, and the labourer is worthy of his hire. I do not see how he can justify such wear and tear of his pulmonary leather, for so small a sum, to his conscience. What is a sixpenny razor or a nine-shilling sermon? Neither can be expected to cut--not but his sermons would be very good for the use of glorified saints--but, alas! there are none such in the House of Correction. What is the inspiration of a penny-a-liner? I will suppose that one of the hearers is a sailor, who would relish and appreciate a sausage or a lobscouse. Mr -- sets _blanc mange_ before him.--Messrs. of the city government give your chaplain two thousand dollars a-year, so that he may reside in the house of correction, without leaving his family to starvation; let him visit each individual, learn his circumstances and character, and sympathise with him in all his sorrows, and, my word for it, Mr -- will have the love and confidence of all. He will be an instrument of great good by his counsel and exhortations. But as for his public preaching, this truly good, pious, and learned man might as well sing psalms to a mad horse. Fishes will not throng to St Anthony, or swine listen to the exorcism of an apostle, in these godless days. If you think he will be overpaid for his services, you may braze the duty of a schoolmaster, who is very much needed, to that of a ghostly adviser.

"Mr -- never fails to pray strenuously that the master and officers may be supported and sustained, which has given rise to the following tin-pot epigram:--

"Support the master and the overseers,
O Lord! so runs our chaplain's weekly ditty;
Unreasonable prayers God never hears,
He knows that they're supported by the city."

He complains bitterly of the convicts not being permitted the use of any books but the Bible and temperance Almanac. It is rather strange, but he says that he supposes that a full half of the inmates of the house of correction can neither _read_ nor _write_.

"Is it pleasant to look back on follies, vices, crimes; presently on blasted hopes, iron bars, and unrequited labour; and forward upon misery, starvation, and a world's scorn? In some degree the malice of this regulation, which ought only to be inscribed on the statute-book of hell, is impotent. The small glimpse of earth, sea, and sky a convict can command, a spider crawling upon the wall, the very corners of his cell, will serve, by a strong effort, for occupation for his thoughts. Read the following tea-pot-graven monologue, written by some mentally-suffering convict, and reflect upon it:--

"Stone walls and iron bars my frame confine,
But the full liberty of thought is mine,
Sad privilege! the mental glance to cast
O'er crimes, o'er follies, and misconduct past.
Oh wretched tenant of a guarded cell,
Thy very freedom makes thy mind a hell.
Come, blessed death; thy grinded dart to me,
Shall the bless'd signal of deliverance be;
With thy worst agonies were cheaply bought,
A last release, a final rest from thought."

"If the pains of a prison be not enough for you, I will teach you a lesson in the art of torture which I learned from our chaplain, or one of his substitutes.--`Make your cells round and smooth; let there be no prominent point for the eye to rest upon, so that it must necessarily turn inward, and I will warrant that you will soon have the pleasure of seeing your victim frantic.' Look well to the temperance trash you physic us with, and you will find, in the Almanac for 1837, a serious attempt to make Napoleon Bonaparte out a drunkard, and to prove that a rum-bottle lost him the battle of Waterloo. The author must himself have been drunk when he wrote it. Are you not ashamed to set such pitiful cant, I will not say such wilful falsehood and slander, before any rational creature? Did you not know that an overcharged gun would knock the musketeer over by its recoil? I do not tell you to give the convicts all and any books they may desire; but pray what harm would an arithmetic do, unless it taught them to refute the statistics of your lying almanac, which gravely advises farmers to feed their hogs with apples, to prevent folks from getting drunk on cider? Why not tell them to feed their cattle with barley and wheat for the same reason? What mind was ever corrupted by Murray's Grammar, or Washington Irving's Columbus? When was ever falsehood the successful pioneer of truth!"

His remarks upon visitors being permitted to see the convicts are good.

"Among the annoyances, which others as well as myself felt most galling, was the frequent intrusion of visitors, who had no object but the gratification of a morbid curiosity. Know all persons, that the most debased convict has human feelings, and does not like to be seen in a parti-coloured jacket. If you want to see any convict for any good reason, ask the master to let you meet him in his office; and even there, you may rely upon it, your visit will be painful enough; to be stared at by the ignorant and the mean with feelings of pity, as if one were some monster of Ind, was intolerable. I hope a certain connexion of mine, who came to see me unasked and unwelcome, and brought a stranger with him to witness my disgrace, may never feel the pain he inflicted on me. To a kind-hearted `Mac,' who came in a proper and delicate way to comfort when I thought all the world had forsaken me, I tender my most grateful thanks. His kindness shall be remembered by me while memory holds her seat. Let the throng of uninvited fools who swarmed about us, accept the following sally of the house of correction muse, from the pen, or rather the fork, of a fellow convict. It may operate to edification.

"To Our Visitors.

"By gazing at us, sirs, pray what do you mean?
Are we the first rascals that ever were seen?
Look into your mirrors--perhaps you may find
All villains are not in South Boston confined.

"I'm not a wild beast, to be seen for a penny;
But a man, as well made and as proper as any;
And what we most differ in is, well I wot,
That I have my merits, and you have them not.

"I own I'm a drunkard, but much I incline
To think that your elbow crooks as often as mine;
Ay, breathe in my face, sir, as much as you will--
One blast of your breath is as good as a gill.

"How kind was our country to find us a home
Where duns cannot plague us, or enemies come!
And you from the cup of her kindness may drain
A _drop_ so sufficing, you'll not drink again.

"And now that by staring with mouth and eyes open,
We have bruised the reeds that already were broken;
Go home and, by dint of strict mental inspection,
Let each make his own house a house of correction.

"This _morceau_ was signed `Indignans.'"

The following muster-roll of crime, as he terms it, which he obtained from the master of the prison, is curious, as it exemplifies the excess of intemperance in the United States--bearing in mind that this is the _moral_ state of Massachusetts.

"The whole number of males committed to the house of correction from the time it was opened--July 1st, 1833, to September 1st, 1837,--was 1477. Of this number there were common drunkards 783, or more than one-half.

"The whole amount of females committed to this institution from the time it was opened to Sept 1837, was 869. Of this number there were common drunkards 430, very nearly one-half.

"And of the whole number committed there were--"

+========================+====+===============+====+ YNatives of MassachusettsY 720YEngland Y 104Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YNew Hampshire Y 175YScotland Y 38Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YMaine Y 130YIreland Y 839Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YVermont Y 17YProvinces Y 69Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YRhode Island Y 35YFrance Y 10Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YConnecticut Y 28YSpain Y 2Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YNew York Y 50YGermany Y 2Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YNew Jersey Y 3YHolland Y 2Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YPennsylvania Y 28YPoland Y 2Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YDelaware Y 6YDenmark Y 2Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YMaryland Y 10YPrussia Y 1Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YVirginia Y 20YSweden Y 8Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YNorth Carolina Y 10YWest Indies Y 12Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YSouth Carolina Y 1YCape de Verde Y 1Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YGeorgia Y 5YIsland of MaltaY 1Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YDistrict of Columbia Y 3YAt Sea Y 7Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ Y Y YForeigners Y1100Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YUnited States Y1241YUnknown Y 5Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YMORAL States Y1905Y Y Y +------------------------+----+---------------+----+ YOther States Y 236YTotal Y2346Y +========================+====+===============+====+

He sums up as follows:--

"I have nearly finished, but I should not do justice to my subject did I omit to advert to the beggarly catch-penny system on which the whole concern is conducted. The convicts raise pork and vegetables in plenty, but they must not eat thereof; these things must be sent to market to balance the debit side of the prison ledger. The prisoners must catch cold and suffer in the hospital, and the wool and stone shops, because it would cost something to erect comfortable buildings. They must not learn to read and write, lest a cent's worth of their precious time should be lost to the city. They may die and go to hell, and be damned, for a resident physician and chaplain are expensive articles. They may be dirty; baths would cost money, and so would books. I believe the very Bibles and almanacks are the donation of the Bible and Temperance societies. Every thing is managed with an eye to money-making--the comfort or reformation, or salvation, of the prisoners are minor considerations. Whose fault is this?

"The fault, most frugal public, is your own. You like justice, but you do not like to pay for it. You like to see a clean, orderly, well conducted prison, and, as far as your parsimony will permit, such is the house of correction. With all its faults, it is still a valuable institution. It holds all, it harms few, and reforms some. It looks well, for the most has been made of matters. If you would have it perfect you must untie your purse-strings, and you will lose nothing by it in the end."

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER FORTY.

REMARKS--ARMY.

Isolated as the officers are from the world, (for these forts are far removed from towns or cities,) they contrived to form a society within themselves, having most of them recourse to matrimony, which always gives a man something to do, and acts as a fillip upon his faculties, which might stagnate from such quiet monotony. The society, therefore, at these outposts is small, but very pleasant. All the officers being now educated at West Point, they are mostly very intelligent and well informed, and soldiers' wives are always agreeable women all over the world. The barracks turned out also a very fair show of children upon the green sward. The accommodations are, generally speaking, very good, and when supplies can be received, the living is equally so; when they cannot, it can't be helped, and there is so much money saved. A suttler's store is attached to each outpost, and the prices of the articles are regulated by a committee of officers, and a tax is also levied upon the suttler in proportion to the number of men in the garrison, the proceeds of which are appropriated to the education of the children of the soldiers and the provision of a library and news-room. If the government were to permit officers to remain at any one station for a certain period, much more would be done; but the government is continually shifting them from post to post, and no one will take the trouble to sow when he has no chance of reaping the harvest. Indeed, many of the officers complained that they hardly had time to furnish their apartments in one fort when they were ordered off to another--not only a great inconvenience to them, but a great expense also.

The American army is not a favourite service, and this is not to be wondered at. It is ill-treated in every way; the people have a great dislike to them, which is natural enough in a Democracy; but what is worse, to curry favour with the people, the government very often do not support the officers in the execution of their duty. Their furloughs are very limited, and they have their choice of the outposts, where they live out of the world, or the Florida war, when they go out of it. But the greatest injustice is, that they have no half-pay: if not wishing to be employed they must resign their commissions and live as they can. In this point there is a great partiality shown to the navy, who have such excellent half-pay, although to prevent remarks at such glaring injustice to the other service, another term is given to the naval half-pay, and the naval officers are supposed to be always on service.

The officers of the army are paid a certain sum, and allowed a certain number of rations per month; for instance, a major-general has two hundred dollars per month, and fifteen rations: According to the estimated value of the rations, as given to me by one of the officers, the annual pay of the different grades will be, in our money, nearly as follows:--

Army.

+==================+======+=========+======+ YArmy YpoundsYNavy YpoundsY +------------------+------+---------+------+ YMajor-General Y 850Y Y Y +------------------+------+---------+------+ YBrigadier-General Y 570YSame rankY 960Y +------------------+------+---------+------+ YColonel Y 340YDo. Y 830Y +------------------+------+---------+------+ YLieutenant-ColonelY 280Y Y Y +------------------+------+---------+------+ YMajor Y 225YDo. Y 525Y +------------------+------+---------+------+ YCaptain Y 200YDo. Y 380Y +------------------+------+---------+------+ YFirst Lieutenant Y 150Y Y Y +------------------+------+---------+------+ YSecond Lieutenant Y 140Y Y Y +------------------+------+---------+------+ YCadet Y 90YDo. Y 156Y +==================+======+=========+======+

The cavalry officers have a slight increase of pay.

The privates of the American regular army are not the most creditable soldiers in the world; they are chiefly composed of Irish emigrants, Germans, and deserters from the English regiments in Canada. Americans are very rare; only those who can find nothing else to do, and have to choose between enlistment and starvation, will enter into the American army. They do not, however, enlist for longer than three years. There is not much discipline, and occasionally a great deal of insolence, as might be expected from such a collection. Corporal punishment has been abolished in the American army except for desertion; and if ever there was a proof of the necessity of punishment to enforce discipline, it is the many substitutes in lieu of it, to which the officers are compelled to resort--all of them more severe than flogging. The most common is that of loading a man with thirty-six pounds of shot in his knapsack, and making him walk three hours out of four, day and night without intermission, with this weight on his shoulders, for six days and six nights; that is, he is compelled to walk three hours with the weight, and then is suffered to sit down _one_. Towards the close this punishment becomes very severe; the feet of the men are so sore and swelled, that they cannot move for some days afterwards. I inquired what would be the consequence if a man were to throw down his knapsack and refuse to walk. The commanding-officer of one of the forts replied, that he would be hung up by the thumbs till he fainted--a variety of piquetting. Surely these punishments savour quite as much of severity, and are quite as degrading as flogging.

The pay of an American private is good--fourteen dollars a month, out of which his rations and regimentals take eight dollars, leaving him six dollars a month for pleasure. Deserters are punished by being made to drag a heavy ball and chain after them, which is never removed day or night. If discharged, they are flogged, their heads shaved, and they are drummed out at the point of the bayonet.

From the conversations I have had with many deserters from our army, who were residing in the United States or were in the American service, I am convinced that it would be a very well-judged measure to offer a free pardon to all those who would return to Canada and re-enter the English service. I think that a good effective regiment would soon be collected, and one that you might trust on the frontiers without any fear of their deserting again; and it would have another good effect, that is, that their statements would prevent the desertion of others.

America, and its supposed freedom, is, to the British soldiers, an Utopia in every sense of the word. They revel in the idea; they seek it and it is not to be found. The greatest desertion from the English regiments is among the musicians composing the bands. There are so many theatres in America, and so few musicians, except coloured people, that instrumental performers of all kinds are in great demand. People are sent over to Canada, and the other British provinces to persuade these poor fellows to desert, promising them very large salaries, and pointing out to them the difference between being a gentleman in America and a slave in the English service. The temptation is too strong; they desert; and when they strive, they soon learn the value of the promises made to them, and find how cruelly they have been deceived.

The Florida war has been a source of dreadful vexation and expense to the United States, having already cost them between 20,000,000 and 30,000,000 of dollars, without any apparent prospect of its coming to a satisfactory conclusion. The American government has also very much injured its character, by the treachery and disregard of honour shown by it to the Indians, who have been, most of them, captured under a flag of truce. I have heard so much indignation expressed by the Americans themselves at this conduct that I shall not comment farther upon it. It is the Federal government, and not the officers employed, who must bear the _onus_. But this war has been mortifying, and even dangerous to the Americans in another point. It has now lasted three years and more. General after general has been superseded, because they have not been able to bring it to a conclusion; and the Indians have proved, to themselves and to the Americans, that they can defy them when they once get them among the swamps and morasses. There has not been one hundred Indians killed, although many of them have been treacherously kidnapped, by a violation of honour; and it is supposed that the United States have already lost one thousand men, if not more, in this protracted conflict.

The aggregate force under General Jessup, in Florida, in November, 1837, was stated to be as follows:--

+==========+=====+ YRegulars Y4,637Y +----------+-----+ YVolunteersY4,078Y +----------+-----+ YSeamen Y 100Y +----------+-----+ YIndians Y 178Y +----------+-----+ Y Y8,893Y +==========+=====+

It is supposed that the number of Indians remaining in Florida do not amount, men, women, and children, to more than 1,500 and General Jessup has declared to the government that the war is _impracticable_.

Militia.--The return of the militia of the United States, for the year 1837, is as follows:--

The number of _Militia_ in the several states and territories, according to the statement of George Bomford, Colonel of Ordnance, dated 20th November, 1837.

+======================+==============+=================+ YStates and TerritoriesYDate of ReturnYNumber of MilitiaY +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YMaine Y 1836Y 42,468Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YNew Hampshire Y 1836Y 27,473Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YMassachusetts Y 1836Y 44,911Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YLouisiana Y 1830Y 14,808Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YMississippi Y 1830Y 13,724Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YTennessee Y 1830Y 60,982Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YVermont Y 1824Y 25,581Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YRhode Island Y 1832Y 1,377Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YConnecticut Y 1836Y 23,826Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YNew York Y 1836Y 184,728Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YNew Jersey Y 1829Y 39,171Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YPennsylvania Y 1834Y 202,281Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YDelaware Y 1827Y 9,229Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YMaryland Y 1836Y 46,854Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YVirginia Y 1836Y 101,838Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YNorth Carolina Y 1835Y 64,415Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YSouth Carolina Y 1833Y 51,112Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YGeorgia Y 1834Y 48,461Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YAlabama Y 1829Y 14,892Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YKentucky Y 1836Y 71,483Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YOhio Y 1836Y 146,428Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YIndiana Y 1833Y 53,913Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YIllinois Y 1831Y 27,386Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YMissouri Y 1835Y 6,170Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YArkansas Y 1825Y 2,028Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YMichigan Y 1831Y 5,478Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YFlorida Territory Y 1831Y 827Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YWisconsin Territory Y --Y --Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ YDistrict of Columbia Y 1832Y 1,249Y +----------------------+--------------+-----------------+ Y Y Y 1,333,091Y +======================+==============+=================+

This is an enormous force, but at the commencement of a war not a very effective one. In fact, there is no country in the world so defenceless as the United States, but, once roused up, no country more formidable if any (attempt) is made to invade its territories. At the outbreak of a war, the states have almost everything to provide; and although the Americans are well adapted as materials for soldiers, still they have to be levied and disciplined. At the commencement of hostilities, it is not improbable that a well-organised force of 30,000 men might walk through the whole of the Union, from Maine to Georgia; but it is almost certain that not one man would ever get back again, as by that time the people would have been roused and excited, armed and sufficiently disciplined; and their numbers, independent of their bravery, would overwhelm three or four times the number I have mentioned.

Another point must not pass unnoticed, which is, that in America, the major part of which is still an uncleared country, the system of warfare naturally partakes much of the Indian practices of surprise and ambuscade; and the invaders will always have to labour under the great disadvantage of the Americans having that perfect knowledge of the country which the former have not.

Most of the defeats of the British troops have been occasioned by this advantage on the part of the Americans, added to the impracticability of the country rendering the superior discipline of the British of no avail. Indeed the great advantages of knowing the country were proved by the American attempts to invade Canada during the last war, and which ended in the capitulation of General Hull. In an uncleared country, even where large forces meet, each man, to a certain degree, acts independently, taking his position, perhaps, behind a tree (treeing it, as they term it in America), or any other defence which may offer. Now, it is evident that, skilled as all the Americans are in fire-arms, and generally using rifles, a disciplined English soldier, with his clumsy musket, fights at a disadvantage; and, therefore, with due submission to his Grace, the Duke of Wellington was very wrong when he stated, the other day in the House of Lords, that the militia of Canada should be disbanded, and their place supplied by regular troops from England. The militia of Upper Canada are quite as good men as the Americans, and can meet them after their own fashion. A certain proportion of regulars are advantageous, as they are more steady, and in case of a check can be more depended upon; but it is not once in five times that they will, either in America or Canada, be able to bring their concentrated discipline into play. But if the Americans have not the discipline of our troops, their courage is undoubted, and even upon a clear plain the palm of victory will always be severely disputed. A Vermonter, surprised for a moment at finding himself in a charge of bayonets, with the English troops, eyed his opponents, and said, "Well I calculate my piece of iron is as good as _yourn_, anyhow," and then rushed to the attack. People who "calculate" in that way are not to be trifled with, as the annals of history fully demonstrate.

A war between America and England is always to be deprecated. Notwithstanding that the countries are severed, still the Americans are our descendants; they speak the same language, and (although they do not readily admit it) still look up to us as their mother country. It is true that this feeling is fast wearing away, but still it is not yet effaced. It is true also that, in their ambition and their covetousness, they would destroy the mutual advantages derived by both countries from our commercial relations, that they might, by manufacturing as well as producing, secure the whole profits to themselves. But they are wrong; for great as America is becoming, the time is not yet arrived when she can compete with English capital, or work for herself without it. But there is another reason why a war between the two countries is so much to be deprecated, which is, that is must ever be a cruel and an irritating war. To attack the Americans by invasion will always be hazardous, and must ultimately prove disastrous. In what manner, then, is England to avenge any aggression that may be committed by the Americans? All she can do is to ravage, burn, and destroy; to carry the horrors of war along their whole extended line of coast, distressing the non-combatants, and wreaking vengeance upon the defenceless.

Dreadful to contemplate as this is, and, even more dreadful the system of stimulating the Indian tribes to join us, adding scalping, and the murdering of women and children, to other horrors, still it is the only method to which England could resort, and, indeed, a method to which she would be warranted to resort, in her own behoof. Moreover, in case of a future war, England must not allow it to be of such short duration as was the last; the Americans must be made to feel it, by its being protracted until their commerce is totally annihilated, and their expenses are increased in proportion with the decrease of their means.