Chapter C: C. learned while a youth to drink the poisoned glass. He was well (2)

In the course of these sketches, I have occasionally reflected on the conduct of the officers of prisons; and asserted that fit men to govern a prison in such a manner as to make it a penitentiary, cannot be found on earth. The labors of this Society have furnished the following corroborative facts.--SECOND REPORT, pages 7-8.

"In the Maine Prison, which has been in operation only three years, Dr. ROSE, the superintendent, stated that three or four cases of malpractice had already occurred among the assistant keepers; such as intemperance, furnishing forbidden articles to convicts, &c., for which they had been discharged.

In the New Hampshire Prison, Mr. PILLSBURY, the former superintendent, mentioned, as one of the greatest difficulties in the Penitentiary system, the insubordination occasioned by the frequent changes among the assistant keepers, and the difficulty of obtaining men of proper character for the compensation allowed them. Escapes have been effected in that Prison, either through the negligence or connivance of assistant keepers, and improper familiarity has been contracted between them and the convicts.

In the Massachusetts Prison, a keeper was detected, three times in succession, by Mr. SOLEY, one of the Directors, in furnishing bills to be altered, and materials to alter them, to a convict. A warrant was issued for him; but he made his escape. Another keeper was discharged soon after, on suspicion of improper conduct; and in a communication, made by the Directors to the Governor, in the autumn of 1825, and by him submitted to the Legislature, several other cases are mentioned of malpractice by contractors and assistant keepers, and discharge for the same.

In Newgate, the Old Prison in Granby, Conn., there has been great complaint on this ground.

THOMAS EDDY, of New York, in a pamphlet on Prison Discipline, mentions a case, in which a number of desperate villains, in one room, within the walls of a Prison, were engaged in the business of counterfeit money, and were enabled to prosecute it by the connivance and assistance of a keeper.

Even in the Prison at Auburn, which is in many respects so worthy of commendation, the Commissioners mention, in a late Report to the Legislature, that "one Terrence Heeney who was never fit for the trust of a guard, was three times appointed to that place, and three times removed for misconduct." They also say, that "several other cases have been proved of the appointment of incompetent or unfit men; but, in general, they were removed as soon as their unfitness became known."

Mr. LYNDS, the superintendent of the Prison at Sing Sing, speaks of the character required in this situation as peculiar: viz. equanimity, quick discernment of character, impartiality, resolution, vigilance, promptitude, besides honesty and temperance, and, more than all, a habit of seeing much and saying little. He has not been without his difficulties in getting the right men. He mentions a case, in which an assistant keeper at Auburn was detected in employing convicts to steal for him.

ROBERTS VAUX, of Philadelphia, in a pamphlet entitled 'Original and successive Efforts to improve the Condition of Prisons,' &c., mentions, that, in the Prison in Philadelphia, many years since, 'the keeper had been a long time connected with criminals, under circumstances which caused him to be suspected of a more intimate knowledge of the depredations committed in the city, than comported with that unblemished reputation which ought to belong to such an officer.'

In the Baltimore Penitentiary, an officer was understood to say, that two assistant keepers had been discharged for circulating counterfeit money for convicts."

There is another part of the discipline recommended by this Society, of which I cordially approve; it is that which relates to religious instruction. May God bless all their labours to give this part of their discipline a permanent residence in every prison on earth! I expect the time when prisons will be purified from sin--I expect a time when they will be no longer needed--and I expect this through the universal and perfect diffusion of the principles of the gospel. "When in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God, by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe." The means of _grace_, then, are the only means of reformation. The means of _cruelty_ can effect no good in any heart. The gospel, _the gospel_; _this_ is the power of God unto salvation, and this alone can effect a salutary change in the soul.

I hold to punishment, but it is the punishment of _mercy_. Let the sinner endure the consequences of his crime, but let _goodness_ inflict the rod. Let his punishment be _severe_, if necessary, but never capricious; let its object be the good of the sufferer, not vengeance; and when he is penitent, let the punishment cease.

But the reformation of prisoners is only a small fraction in the reformations which are called for. The whole world needs reforming; and the reformation of prisoners will keep pace only with the reformation of those who are free; and as long as these places must be under the control of corrupt and depraved minds, alas for the cause of reform! Some of the iniquity of prison keepers has been discovered by the public eye, but what has been seen by _that_ eye, is only a drop to a fountain, compared with the whole.--Enough is known about the guilt of _prisoners_, because the keepers who make the report are _believed_; but the keepers have no observers of _their_ conduct but _prisoners_, and these are not _credited_ when they tell the truth. It is believed _in general_, that prison keepers are tyrants. The voice of every age and country unites in describing this class of men as coming the nearest of any in moral resemblance to Satan; and yet no prisoner is believed when he complains of abuse. Let some great Howard go through the prisons in the United States, and take his accounts from _prisoners_ as well as keepers, and he will give a different Report from the one before me. There is as much need of a society to reform _keepers_, as there ever can be to reform prisoners; and there can be but little ground to hope for success _in prison_ till the _keepers_ become not merely _honest men_ but _pious christians_.

My statements in respect to the destruction of the chapel and the neglect of the means of grace in the Windsor Prison, are confirmed by the Reports of this Society. In the FIRST REPORT, pages 32, 33, the Society say, that, "In the Vermont Penitentiary, one hundred dollars only are appropriated for religious instruction. The chapel has been converted into a weaver's shop. The services on the Sabbath are irregular, and the Scriptures are not daily read to the assembled convicts."--SECOND REPORT, page 56, "The duties of Chaplain are very irregularly discharged. In truth there is no stated Chaplain whose services can be relied on."

One quotation more on this subject is all that I can now make. It is from the SEVENTH REPORT, page 10. "The legislature of Vermont, at the last session, provided by law an additional compensation for a Chaplain; so that the state now pays three hundred dollars per annum for this service, and a chaplain has been appointed to discharge the duties of the office."

Will the Secretary of this Society be so good as to inform the public in his next Report, how much service the Chaplain in the Vermont Penitentiary renders for his salary of three hundred dollars?

My time does not permit me to copy any more from the Reports of this Society. In the remarks that I have made upon its doings, I have had no design to impugn its _motives_. I doubt not that the managers of the Society mean to do good. I impeach not their _views_, but I doubt the wisdom of their _policy_. I know what they never can; and I am only opposing facts and experience to a fair but deceptive theory. The hope of effecting a reformation among prisoners, by stripes and solitary cells, can never be realized. It will be of no use for _me_ to reason on this subject, for I am too small to be noticed. Nothing that I can say will tell on the great minds which compose the Society whose doings I condemn. But I must be allowed to give my opinion. "THE PRISON DISCIPLINE SOCIETY" is combining the talent of the country, and the wealth of the country, for a purpose which appears to itself benevolent, but which will, past all doubt, result in sinking our prisons to the lowest point of cruelty, and the darkest region of despair; and from his knowledge of human character and the effect of cruelty on the heart, I should suppose that Lucifer would be its most efficient patron.

A few lines more and I shall have done with this article. I was in Windsor when Rev. LEWIS DWIGHT, the Secretary of the Society, visited that prison. I know from what source he obtained his information, and I know how extremely imperfect was some of the account he obtained, and how much was hidden from him entirely. And taking what relates to this prison, in his Reports, as a specimen of what he has related of other prisons, I am certain that much more light is needed to guide him to the evils of penitentiaries, and to their cure, than he has yet obtained, _Prisoners_ ought to have been consulted, as well as _keepers_; an _ex parte_ examination contains only part of the truth. Prisoners ought to be treated by christians on terms of _equality_, if any good is to be effected in the work of reformation; and before any thing can be done to effect their lasting good, they must be treated with kindness and respect. No other means can reform them. You may _snarl_ them into sin, and tread them down to _hell_, but you must _love_ them into _repentance_, and _support_ them up the ascent to _heaven_.

DESIGN OF PENITENTIARIES IN RESPECT TO THE TREATMENT OF CONVICTS, ACCORDING TO THE VIEWS OF THE DIRECTORS OF THE CONNECTICUT STATE PRISON, WITH REMARKS.

"Upon the subject of the general treatment of the convicts, and
the discipline of the institution, we would remark that the State
Prison _is designed to be_, and _emphatically is_, a place of
PUNISHMENT. The feelings of _humanity_ and _mistaken mercy_
should not be suffered to interpose, _to disarm its punishment of
that rigor due to justice and the violated laws of the land_.
While a proper regard is had to the health of its inmates, their
comfort should not be so far studied as to render it a desirable
residence, even to those whose condition in society is attended
with the _severest privations_. When this becomes the case, our
criminal code becomes a bounty law for crime."--_Sixth Report,
page 94._

This is throwing off the mask completely, and boldly declaring that "_punishment_," SEVERE punishment, a punishment in which there is no tincture of "_humanity_," is the _design_, and _emphatically_, the _discipline_, of that prison. The _comfort_ of the prisoner is not to be sought in any way inconsistent with _punishment without humanity_. His _reformation is not to be sought at all_. A more unsound and disgraceful principle of penitentiary discipline, was never avowed by any similar committee in this country before; but it is the _very one_ on which all American penitentiaries _are governed_. "That _rigor_ due to _Justice_ and the violated _laws_ of the land!" Yes; "Justice and the violated laws," demand "_rigor_." It is not enough to have the sinner _securely confined_--he must be _uncomfortable_. His _health_ must be attended to; let him live; but his cup of gall must be full and overflowing. Let him live--_not_ for _comfort_, but to _groan_ in the ear of _heaven_ the "_rigor_" of "_Justice_" and of the "_violated laws_." Punishment is God's "_strange work_," his "_strange act_," but it is the _common_ work of his creatures.

According to _my_ views of a penitentiary, it is not _unqualifiedly_, a place of _punishment_, but a place of _reformation_, to be effected by the _mildest_ means, and to be under the constant direction of _humanity_. Cruelty never should enter its walls. Satan was no more out of his place in Eden, than is cruelty in a place of reformation.

As to a criminal code's becoming "a bounty law for crime," when its discipline for prisons is such as to render them a desirable residence, to those who are suffering even the "_severest privations_" in society, that Committee need have no fears. There is no danger of any prisons ever becoming so mild as to be a _desirable_ residence for any one. Take the purest apartment in heaven, and confine a seraph there, and the simple fact that he was a prisoner would make his home a hell. The Devil himself would prefer liberty in the world of woe, to imprisonment even in Paradise--freedom with damnation, to salvation with restraint.

THE MEANS OF EFFECTING A REFORMATION AMONG PRISONERS.

On this subject many an enthusiast has speculated, and many a fine and beautiful theory has charmed the benevolent mind. The sacred orator from the desk, inspired by the genius of his faith, and warm amidst the holy fires of the altar, has often brought the miserable tenants of the dungeon within the sympathies of his weeping hearers. Clothed with the robes of state, the philanthropist has often urged the claims of prisoners upon the consideration of councils and legislatures. For eighteen hundred years have the altar and the throne sent abroad, in tones of commiseration, the suffering and neglected condition of prisoners; but what has been the result? Prisons are as numerous as ever, and almost every season sees a new one erected. The annual volume of crimes is as huge and black as ever. The gloom of these earthly hells is undissipated by the charm of operative benevolence. And though it is two thousand years since the foundations of christianity were laid in the earth--that heavenly principle which was to say to the prisoners, "go forth,"--the notes of its rejoicing ascend in faint association with the deep-toned sigh of despair and misery, which is hourly bursting from the grated cell. Alas! for the times. But why have the benevolent and christian spirits of every age laboured in vain, and spent their strength for naught? The answer is obvious.

They have acted on a mistaken theory. They have confided in the integrity and benevolence of those to whose immediate care prisoners are committed, where nothing is more true than that prison keepers are, and ever have been, the cruelest of men. They have gone the whole round of experiment--imprisonment and hard labour, solitary confinement, transportation, stripes, cropping and branding--the whole machinery of torture and death has been put into various motion, in the ignorant hope of reforming a sinner by the sure and only means of making a devil. The science of architecture has been exhausted in experiments to construct a reformatory prison, as if the form of a cell could regenerate a vicious heart into virtue. Societies have been formed, books have been published, funds have been collected, and a "PRISON DISCIPLINE" has been put into practice, on the infatuated supposition, that a bad man can be made good by writing him a "VILLIAN" on every page that presents him to the public eye, and crushing him under a painful and torturing humiliation which would fire an angel with resentment, and make a John a Judas. Every sermon that is preached, every prayer that is made, every hymn that is sung in prisons, tells the convicts that they are sinners above all men, because they suffer such things; and it is by means like these, by audibly and impliedly thanking God that they are not like these publicans, that the ministers of mercy to prisons are labouring to reform the wicked.

Another great fault in the operations of the benevolent in favour of prisoners, is, they are objects of attention _only_ while they are _in prison_. A wise physician will take care to _prevent_ disease, and be equally careful to prevent a _relapse_. Not so with _these_ physicians. They visit the patient at his sick bed for the first time, and there they remind him very graciously of the _cause_ of his sickness, and leave him as soon as he can leave his bed. Intelligent good will embraces its objects the moment they are discovered, and never abandons them. The grand outlines of expansive and understanding benevolence are--the prevention of crime or any other misery--the comfort of the sufferer and the reformation of the criminal--and the prevention of future distress and relapse into crime. Let the pious, and virtuous, and compassionate, keep these outlines constantly in view, and never permit their efforts to relax, but increase and multiply them over every part of the ample field which the above landmarks describe.

It would be unavailing for me to propose any _plan_ of operation in this great work. I am by far too microscopic an object in the public eye to hope for the smallest attention to any thing that I can offer. I do not, however, regret this, for I am not much enamoured with _plans_. The best plan would not avail any thing, without a proper spirit in the management of it, and _with_ this, the poorest would be better than any which has yet been devised. On the _spirit_ of prison discipline, then, I rely for success, and on this, whether they are heeded or not, I shall make a few remarks.

Those who go on errands of mercy to prisons must convince the prisoners that they are their _friends_, or they can do them no good; and this can be done only by _being_ their friends. When they shall have accomplished this--when the prisoners feel that they have found _friends_, they will become better. With this lever, the hardest heart can be turned. Goodness finds a worshipper in the wickedest heart, and no sooner is it perceived in the holiness of its nature and the benevolence of its exercise, than the heart instinctively does it reverence and receives its impression.

The first thing then for a minister of reformation to prisons to do, is, to be good and feel a love for the sinner; and the next is, to make this goodness and love apparent by long and steady perseverance in acts of mercy.

The fact that goodness will beget its likeness in all minds that experience and perceive its effects, is taught plainly in the Scriptures. "We love God _because he first loved us_."--"The _goodness_ of God leadeth thee to repentance."--"He to whom _much is forgiven_, the same _loveth much_." The song of saints in heaven is grounded on the _personal benefits_ they have received from Christ. Christians are exhorted by the _mercies_ of _Christ_ to live holy and godly lives. And the Psalmist says, that they that _know_ the name of the Lord, will put their _trust_ in him.

The truth of these principles has been practically demonstrated by those who have been humanely and charitably conversant with the suffering poor. It has not been the _benefaction_, that has bound them to the hearts of the distressed, but the spirit of _mild_, _heavenly_, _sympathetic_, _unassuming_, and _unaffected condescension_, with which they have _personally_ and _perseveringly_ ministered to their wants. Not the _value_ of the gift, but the _manner_ and _spirit_ of it, has converted the recipient into gratitude. All experience proves this.

"But beside the degree of purity in which this principle may exist among the most destitute of our species, it is also of importance to remark the degree of strength, in which it actually exists among the most depraved of our species. And, on this subject, do we think that the venerable HOWARD has bequeathed to us a most striking and valuable observation. You know the history of this man's enterprises, how his doings, and his observations, were among the veriest outcasts of humanity,--how he descended into prison houses, and there made himself familiar with all that could most revolt or terrify, in the exhibition of our fallen nature; how, for this purpose, he made the tour of Europe; but instead of walking in the footsteps of other travellers, he toiled his painful and persevering way through these receptacles of worthlessness;--and sound experimentalist as he was, did he treasure up the phenomena of our nature, throughout all the stages of misfortune, or depravity. We may well conceive the scenes of moral desolation that would often meet his eye; and that, as he looked to the hard and dauntless, and defying aspect of criminality before him, he would sicken in despair of ever finding one remnant of a purer and better principle, by which he might lay hold of these unhappy men, and convert them into the willing and the consenting agents of their own amelioration. And yet such a principle he found, and found it, he tells us, after years of intercourse, as the fruit of his greater experience, and his longer observation; and gives, as the result of it, that convicts, and that, among the most desperate of them all, are not ungovernable, and that there is a way of managing even them, and that the way is, without relaxing in one iota, from the steadiness of a calm and resolute discipline, to treat them with tenderness, and show them that you have humanity; and thus a principle, of itself so beautiful, that to expatiate upon it, gives in the eyes of some, an air of fantastic declamation to our argument, is actually deponed to, by an aged and most sagacious observer. It is the very principle of our text, and it would appear that it keeps a lingering hold of our nature, even in the last and lowest degrees of human wickedness; and that when abandoned by every other principle, this may still be detected,--that even among the most hackneyed and most hardened of malefactors, there is still about them a softer part, which will give way to the demonstrations of tenderness: that this one ingredient of a better character is still found to survive the dissipation of all others;--that, fallen as a brother may be, from the moralities which at one time adorned him, the manifested good-will of his fellow man still carries a charm and an influence along with it; and that, therefore, there lies in this an operation which, as no _poverty_ can _vitiate_, so no _depravity_ can _extinguish_.

"Now, this is the very principle which is brought into action, in the dealings of God with a whole world of malefactors. It looks as if he confided the whole cause of our recovery to the influence of a demonstration of good will. It is truly interesting to mark, what, in the devisings of his unsearchable wisdom, is the character which has made to stand most visibly out, in the great scheme and history of our redemption; and surely, if there be one feature of prominency more visible than another, it is the love of kindness. There appears to be no other possible way, by which a responding affection can be deposited in the heart of man. Certain it is, that the law of love cannot be carried to its ascendency over us by storm. Authority cannot command it. Strength cannot implant it. Terror cannot charm it into existence. The threatenings of vengeance may stifle, or they may repel, but they never can woo this delicate principle of our nature into a warm and confiding attachment. The human heart remains shut, in all its receptacles, against the force of all these applications; and God who knew what was in man, seems to have known, that in his dark and guilty bosom, there was but one solitary hold that he had over him, and that to reach it, he must just put on a look of graciousness; and tell us that he has no pleasure in our death, and manifest towards us the longings of a bereaved parent, and even humble himself to a suppliant in the cause of our return, and send a gospel of peace into the world, and bid his messengers to bear throughout all its habitations, the tidings of his good will to the children of men. This is the topic of his most anxious and repeated demonstrations. This manifested good will of God to his creatures, is the band of love, and the cord of a man, by which he draws them; and this one mighty principle of attraction is brought to bear upon a nature, that might have remained sullen and unmoved under any other application."--THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D.

The principle so eloquently and correctly stated in the above quotations from Dr. Chalmers, is fully demonstrated and exemplified by the philanthropic efforts of Mrs. ELIZABETH FRY in the famous prison of Newgate, in England, an account of which is here presented to the reader. It was written by MADAME ADILE DE THOU, but I have copied it from the LADIES' MAGAZINE.

"MRS. FRY, on being informed of the deplorable state of the female prisoners in Newgate, resolved to relieve them. She applied to the governor for leave of admittance; he replied that she would incur the greatest risk in visiting that abode of iniquity and disorder, which he himself scarcely dared to enter. He observed, that the language she must hear would inevitably disgust her, and made use of every argument to prevail on her to relinquish her intention.

MRS. FRY said that she was fully aware of the danger to which she exposed herself; and repeated her solicitations for permission to enter the prison. The governor advised her not to carry in with her either her purse or her watch. MRS. FRY replied, "I thank you, I am not afraid: I don't think I shall lose any thing."

She was shown into an apartment of the prison which contained about _one hundred and sixty women_; those who were condemned, and those who had not been tried, were all suffered to associate together. The children who were brought up in this school of vice, and who never spoke without an oath, added to the horror of the picture. The prisoners ate, cooked their food, and slept all in the same room. It might truly be said, that Newgate resembled a den of savages.

MRS. FRY was not discouraged. The grace of God is infinite, the true christian never despairs. In spite of a very delicate state of health, she persevered in her pious design. The women listened to her, and gazed on her with amazement; the pure and tranquil expression of her beautiful countenance speedily softened their ferocity. It has been remarked, that if virtue could be rendered visible, it would be impossible to resist its influence; and thus may be explained the extraordinary ascendency which MRS. FRY exercises over all whom she approaches. Virtue has indeed become visible, and has assumed the form of this benevolent lady, who is the guide and consolation of her fellow-creatures.

MRS. FRY addressed herself to the prisoners;--"You seem unhappy," said she. "You are in want of clothes; would you not be pleased if some one came to relieve your misery?"

"Certainly," replied they, "but nobody cares for us, and where can _we_ expect to find a friend?"

"I am come with a wish to serve you," resumed ELIZABETH FRY, "and I think if you will second my endeavours, I may be of use to you."

She addressed to them the language of peace, and afforded them a glimmering of hope. She spoke NOT OF THEIR CRIMES; the minister of an all-merciful God, she came there to _comfort_ and to _pray_, not to _judge_ and _condemn_. When she was about to depart, the women thronged around her as if to detain her. "You will never come again," said they. But she who never broke her word promised to return.

She soon paid a second visit to this loathsome jail, where she intended to pass the whole day; the doors were closed upon her, and she was left alone with the prisoners.

"You cannot suppose," said she, addressing them, "that I have come here without being commissioned. This book--she held the Bible in her hand--which has been the guide of my life, has led me to you. It directed me to visit the prisoners, and take pity on the poor and the afflicted. I am willing to do all that lies in my power: but my efforts will be vain, unless met and aided by you."

She then asked them whether they would not like to hear her read a few passages from that book. They replied they would. MRS. FRY selected the parable of the lord of the vineyard, and when she came to the man who was hired at the _eleventh hour_, she said; "Now the eleventh hour strikes for you; the greater part of your lives is lost, but Christ is come to save sinners!"

Some asked who Christ was; others said he had not come for them; that the time was past, and that they could not be saved. MRS. FRY replied that Christ had suffered, that he had been poor, and that he had come to save the poor and the afflicted in particular.

MRS. FRY obtained permission to assemble the children in a school established in the prison, for the purpose of promoting their religious instruction. The female prisoners, in spite of their profligate and vicious habits, joyfully embraced the opportunity of ameliorating the condition of their children. Much was already effected by restoring these women to the first sentiments of nature; namely, maternal affection.

A woman denominated the _matron_, was entrusted with the control of the prisoners, under the superintendence of the ladies of the Society of Friends, composing the Newgate Committee.

MRS. FRY having drawn up a set of rules of conduct for the prisoners, a day was fixed on, and the lord Mayor and one of the aldermen being present, she read aloud the articles, and asked the prisoners whether they were willing to adopt them; they were directed to raise their hands as a sign of approval. This constitution was unanimously adopted; so sincere were the sentiments of respect and confidence she had inspired.

Thanks to her perseverance and the years she has devoted to her pious undertaking, a total change has been effected in Newgate prison; the influence of virtue has softened the horrors of vice, and Newgate has become the asylum of repentance.

Strangers are permitted to visit the jail on Thursday, when MRS. FRY reads and explains passages of the Bible to the prisoners. Her voice is extremely fascinating; its pure, clear tones are admirably calculated to plead the cause of virtue and humanity.

The late queen expressed a wish to see MRS. FRY, and in the most flattering terms testified the admiration she felt for her conduct. The thanks of the city of London were voted to her; and, in short, there is not an Englishman who does not bless her name."

How worthy of all admiration is such conduct in a female! But if the principle which DR. CHALMERS has stated with so much beauty and force, and which has been so fully and delightfully exemplified by the seraphic spirits of a HOWARD and a FRY, is correct, how humbling to the christian community are the inferences which follow.

Why are our prisons such scenes of cruelty and such schools of crime? Because christian churches and christian individuals are destitute of the practical good will, and the expansive benevolence of the gospel of Christ. When christians begin to _act_ on the principles of their profession, prisons will begin to grow pure; and when all christians fully perform their solemn duties to the erring and the wretched, prison walls and prison vices will be no more. In a purified society they cannot exist; and the degraded condition of the prisoners in our country, and the rapid increase of their numbers, are sure indications of the want of piety and godliness in the land.

I might spin out remarks to an indefinite length, but it would be to no useful purpose. I can weep over the evils which I am unable to cure. I do not expect any great improvement _in_ our prisons, till I see great reformations _out_ of them. From the society of the free all our prisoners are taken, and till that society is purified it will continue to furnish its annual victims to the penitentiary; but when that is done, the fetters and dungeons of the captive will crumble to dust, and the improvement of prisoners will be simultaneous with the reformation of the free. These two classes act and react upon each other, and they must ultimately wear the same moral complexion. If vice is to triumph over virtue, then all will be just fit for a dungeon; but if virtue is to become universal, then will the bond and the free be equal sharers in the bliss. But as the prey _is_ to be taken from the mighty, and as all flesh _is_ to see the salvation of the Lord, I am sure that "in the dispensation of the fulness of times," the vices and crimes of prisoners will cease, and the voice of the oppressors be heard no more.

REV. JOHN ROBBINS' VISIT TO WINDSOR PRISON.

It was in the spring of 1829 that the Rev. John Robbins visited the State Prison in Windsor, Vermont, in which a number of years before he had been a prisoner. He was recognized by a few of the oldest inhabitants of that gloomy mansion, who had been his fellow-prisoners, and particularly by the writer of this article who had been his cell-mate. He obtained permission of the Superintendent, and preached in the prison chapel the first Sabbath after his arrival in town. As he entered the pulpit a thrill of indescribable but pleasing emotion darted through the bosoms of his old acquaintances, at witnessing the great and happy change of which he had obviously been the subject. A few short years before, he had occupied a seat among the hearers in that doleful place, and no one questioned his right to that distinction; but now he appeared as an accredited minister of the gospel, "to preach deliverance to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound." Every eye was fastened upon him, and a solemn death-like stillness pervaded the room. After a few minutes he gave out the following appropriate and affecting psalm, which was sung with sympathetic expression by the choir:

"Father, I bless thy gentle hand;
How kind was thy chastising rod,
Which forced my conscience to a stand
And brought my wandering soul to God.

"Foolish and vain, I went astray;
Ere I had felt thy scourges, Lord,
I left my guide, and lost my way;
But now I love and keep thy word.

"'Tis good for me to wear the yoke,
For pride is apt to rise and swell;
'Tis good to bear my Father's stroke,
That I might learn his statutes well."

After this psalm was sung he prayed--but such a prayer had not often been heard in that place. Solemn and awful language, on flame with heaven's own spirit, and big with holy desires, marked this effort of his impassioned soul. That prayer was heard in heaven; for such a prayer can never be made in vain. It produced an unutterable effect on every heart; and the impression it made on mine is, at this moment, among my liveliest and dearest recollections.

His text was,--"Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." I will not attempt to give even a skeleton of the overpowering sermon which followed. I was too much affected for memory to perform its office. Unlike many of the pulpit efforts which I had been accustomed to hear, it was not characterized by polished periods and classical elegance, but by the thunder and lightning of Mount Sinai. It was a storm which shook the soul, and roused up all its powers. The preacher was evidently in awful earnest;--his lifted arm, his swelling voice, his beaming eyes, denoted the man who felt the importance, and believed the truth of what he said. Until now, he sustained himself in firm and perfect self-possession; but when he came to advert to his former situation, and point out the very seat he had occupied among his hearers, his firmness deserted him. His eyes swam in tears--his voice fell down into interrupted and trembling accents--and his mind became perfectly unnerved. Sympathy, inspired his feelings in his congregation--every eye was moistened--sighs echoed to sighs--some wept aloud--and the whole scene was one of mingled, ungovernable emotions.

With this sermon commenced a glorious revival of religion in the Prison. That long and much neglected moral waste began to exhibit the buds of promise; that spiritual desert began to smile with freshness and bloom; and after twenty years of famine, more dreadful than that which devoured the plenty of Egypt, the Lord began to pour down the streams of his grace, and spread a feast of fat things before the dying souls of His creatures. Angels, whose far-reaching vision embraces a thousand worlds, never saw a spot more spiritually and morally barren, than had been the State Prison at Windsor from the very commencement of its history up to the happy time under consideration. But now the scene began to change; the wilderness and the solitary place began to rejoice, and the desert to blossom as the rose. Mr. Robbins, at the request of the Superintendent, continued there about five mouths, during which time, I have as much evidence as any such case admits of, that one half of the prisoners became the subjects of serious convictions, and one fourth part were thoroughly converted to God. It is due to the Hon. J. H. Cotton, Superintendent of the Prison, to say, that he cordially co-operated with Mr. R. and granted the prisoners every indulgence which reason could ask. Sabbath Schools were established; Bible Classes were formed; and the Prison became a temple with a worshipper in every cell. The other means used by Mr. R. were private conversation, tracts, and plain, pungent preaching.

While this delightful work was in progress, the following hymn was composed by one of the prisoners and sung by them in their meetings; and as it gives a very impressive and accurate view of the power and character of this display of saving mercy to the doubly lost, I will insert it here for the gratification of the reader:

"Rejoice, O my soul, see the trophies of grace
Submitting to Jesus and shouting his praise;
Like doves to their windows, or clouds through the sky,
From sin's darkest borders for safety they fly.

"This strong bolted dungeon is vocal with prayer,
And joy rolls her orb through the sky of despair;
This strong hold of Satan is trembling to fall,
The power of Jehovah is seen by us all.

"The angel of mercy can visit a cell,
And on the dark bosom of misery dwell.
The sunbeams of heaven can shine from above,
And glow on our midnight a rainbow of love.

"All glorious Eternal! we tremble and fear;
How awful this place is, we know Thou art here!
In thy dreadful presence adoring we fall.
Well pleas'd to be nothing, and Thou all in all!"

I must ask the indulgence of the reader for introducing another hymn, by the same author, which also exhibits the true extent and glory of the work, in contrast with the darkness and misery which preceded it. It is inscribed to Mr. Robbins:

"_I was in prison and ye came unto me._"
JESUS CHRIST.

"Around our horizon no twilight was streaming,
Nor faint twinkling star shot a ray thro' the gloom;
No taper of life in our dungeons was gleaming,
But darkness and death roll'd dismay thro' our tomb.

"When, clear as the sun, rob'd in beams of the morning,
You rose on our darkness with soul-cheering ray;
To temples of worship our dungeons transforming,
And pouring around us the noon-blaze of day.

"In every hall now an altar is burning,
And incense of praise rolls from many a heart;
The ransom'd of Christ are to Zion returning,
With firm resolution no more to depart.

"How sweet is the sound! holy anthems are ringing,
And cell back to cell echoes triumph and praise!
And while to the theme of salvation I'm singing,
The glory of God bursts around in a blaze!

"My soul, bless the Lord! be his mercy forever
The theme of my song and the flame of my heart!
And from his commands may I wander no never!
Nor from his dear service one moment depart!

"Go on, sent of God! See! all ripe for the sickle
The harvest is waving, and bright in your view,
Confide not in man, all inconstant and fickle,
But trust in the Lord ever faithful and true."

In the course of about five months, this shower of divine mercy passed completely by and went off, after watering richly that sterile region, and causing it to brighten with the fairest promises of a glorious harvest. Never was there a work of grace more pleasing in its developement, more thorough in its searchings into the heart, or that will in my firm opinion, be more lasting in its joyful effects. There were no enthusiastic ravings--none of the mysticism of fanatics; but every part of the work was characteristic of the deep and reforming energies of the Spirit of God on the soul. That there were some who banished their serious convictions from their minds, there can be no doubt; and that some who entered the race, run well only for a season, and then turned back, is equally probable. These are dark spots from which no bright display of saving mercy is ever perfectly free. But I am, on the other hand, just as firmly persuaded, that as many as thirty of those who were then outcasts from society, became free citizens of the Redeemer's kingdom, and will "walk with him in white" in the world of glory.

From the preceding rapid sketch of a work of grace in a State Prison, the following affecting truths force themselves inferentially upon the mind.

1. The most abandoned among the sons of men, are fully within the saving influences of Gospel truth, when it is judiciously applied to the conscience and heart.

2. State Prisons are too much neglected in the benevolent and pious enterprises of this missionary and philanthropic age. Ministers of Jesus have gone out, and others are going out, to the extremities of the globe, to evangelize the heathen, while they too obviously disregard the injunction of the blessed Jesus so plainly and energetically implied in these words,--"I was in prison and ye visited me not."

3. Any humble self-denying servant of Him who came to say to prisoners, Go forth--to pardon a dying thief--and point out to repentant crime the path of righteousness, who will, in the spirit of his Master, devote himself to the great work of preaching the everlasting Gospel in State Prisons, will joyfully witness the gloom departing from those fields of spiritual desolation, and find his sacred, untiring labors amply repaid, by the success with which, sooner or later, they will be graciously crowned.

In conclusion, permit me to call the attention of all benevolent and pious minds, to the deplorable condition of those whose crimes have justly cut them off from the sweets of liberty and the endearments of social life, and consigned them to a living death within the gloomy walls of a State Prison. With an emphasis that might pierce the soul, they say to you,--"Have pity upon us! have pity upon us, O ye our friends! for the hand of God hath touched us!" But this plaintive cry is heard only to be forgotten. If any class of darkened, perverted, and ruined humanity, has any claim on the sympathies of Christians, this is that class. This Howard felt, and, by his efforts to meliorate their condition, he became the acknowledged prince of philanthropists, and earned an immortal and sacred fame. Our State Prisons, it is true, are not the dark subterranean hells of Europe; but they are, in the fullest American sense of that term,--State Prisons. And why will not some American Howard, some baptized and heavenly spirit, take a thorough and christian survey of these places, and become a christian Howard by causing all the means of grace, like so many rivers from the throne of God, to roll their pure, and comforting, and saving waters, through all their gloomy abodes.

THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL TO LIBERTY AND HIS FRIENDS.

Published after he had been confined _nine years_, and a few months before he received his pardon.

"_We hung our harps upon the willows._"--CAPTIVE ISRAEL.

Farewell, enchanting goddess,
Whose smile all nature cheers,
And pours the light of heaven
Around sublunar years.

Adieu, thou seraph beauty;
With blushing roses crown'd,
Thy breath no more inspires me,
Thy flowers no more surround,

No more, with thee conversing,
I spend the joyous day,
While hours of laughing pleasure,
Unheeded dance away.

Thy fields, by spring enamell'd,
These feet no more can tread,
Nor in poetic rambles,
To whisp'ring rills be led.

Long on the leafless willow,
My tuneless harp has hung,
The themes are all forgotten,
On which its numbers rung.

Ye groves, with music sounding,
Ye vales, in smiling bloom,
Ye deep and waving forests,
The seats of pleasing gloom;

Ye lov'd and honor'd circles,
Where peace and friendship dwell--
To all these scenes of pleasure,
How can I say--FAREWELL?

How can I, honour'd Mother,
Whose mem'ry I adore,
Endure the thought, so painful,
Of seeing you no more?

You form'd my heart to virtue,
My infant mind to truth,
And led me, pure and blameless,
Amid the snares of youth.

From you the dear idea
Of God I first receiv'd,
And charm'd by your example,
I in his name believ'd.

To that adored Being
You taught these lips to pray,
And bless'd my painful childhood
With views of heavenly day.

Yet O! farewell, dear mother!--
Be God Himself your Friend,
Your Comforter in trouble,
Your Saviour in the end!

Farewell, beloved brothers;
My frailties O! forgive!
And while I breathe, repenting,
May you respected live.

Endear'd, adored sisters--
But O! my heart, forbear!
How, from thy clasping fibres,
Can I these idols tear!

We've lov'd and wept together,
And till my latest breath,
This heart shall bear their features,
And cling to them in death!

Each fond association,
How round my heart it plays!
And wakes the recollection
Of dear departed days!

These fled--afflictions follow'd;
They, too, will soon be o'er--
Soon we shall meet in heaven,
To separate no more.

How oft have these dear kindreds
Bedew'd my path with tears,
And follow'd me, lamenting,
Thro' many gloomy years.

But now they weep no longer--
The last sad tears they shed,
Fell on that mournful evening
When they pronounced me DEAD!

They've buri'd me, tho' living,
And worn their sable weeds,
And down to blank oblivion
My memory recedes!

_Dead!_--would to God I were so!
Why should I wish to live?
A wretched, joyless creature,
And only spar'd to grieve!

The gloom of death surrounds me,
And chills me to the soul;
My tears by sorrow frozen,
Have long refus'd to roll.

In vain the pleasing changes
Of darkness and of day,
Of bloom and desolation,
Around my dungeon play.

There is no day in prison,
But ever-during night;
No pleasing moral verdure,
But everlasting blight.

The sun of joy has sunken
Behind affliction's cloud,
And wrapp'd the earth and heavens
Deep in an endless shroud.

Nine summers have roll'd o'er me,
As many springs have smil'd,
Nine autumns pour'd their treasure,
Nine winters whistled wild,

Since on me clos'd and bolted
Those ever-frowning gates,
And all my views of freedom
Have been thro' iron grates.

Yet here I breathe, unhappy,
No hope of freedom see--
O! when, enchanting goddess,
Shall I return to thee?

Thron'd on thy native mountain,
Beneath the ample sky,
Thou heedest not my anguish,
Nor hear'st my frequent sigh.

Against embattled legions
Thy panoply I bore,
And from the brow of victors,
The wreath of vict'ry tore.

But thou hast me deserted,
And left to weep in vain,
In this all-gloomy dungeon
To clank my galling chain!

But cease my guilty murmurs,
My punishment is right;
I forc'd my way to ruin,
Against the clearest light.

An angel, sent from heaven,
Inform'd my op'ning mind,
And to the side of virtue,
My shooting thoughts inclin'd.

Religion--always lovely--
Appear'd more lovely still,
While with its heavenly spirit,
She strove my heart to fill.

Of vice the awful features
Her faithful pencil drew,
And from the horrid image
My frighted eyes withdrew.

O! had I wisely cherish'd
These seeds, so timely sown,
The tears of vain repentance
These eyes had never known.

In all the charms of virtue,
Unfallen I had stood,
By keen remorse unwither'd,
Respected by the good.

O! false, alluring phantoms,
Which led my feet astray,
In paths to ruin leading,
From wisdom's peaceful way.

Yet is maternal culture
Most salutary still;
The frost of vice may wither
The germ it cannot kill.

The tide of sinful pleasure
Its poisonous wave may roll,
And long the blighting tempest
May chill the youthful soul;

It cannot kill--no, _never_--
(Then, mothers, don't despair!)
The seeds of moral virtue,
So early planted there.

Some heaven-directed sun-beams
Will shine around, and then,
Warm'd by its genial influence,
They'll vegetate again.

My subject, how it brightens!
Be fired, my soul, anew,
In numbers sweet as heaven,
The ope'ning theme pursue.

Farewell, my sinful murmurs.
Farewell, my sighs and tears;
Farewell, thou night of horror,
The morn of joy appears!

The beams of heavenly goodness,
How bright they shine around,
A sea of living pleasure,
Where all my griefs are drown'd!

From this glad hour, for ever,
Be gratitude my song;
My moments, fraught with transport,
Shall joyful dance along.

The mercy of my Saviour,
What angel tongue can tell,
It blazes thro' creation,
And cheers the night of hell!

Around his throne in glory
It wakes immortal song,
And rolls its boundless ocean
Eternity along.

In all my wand'rings from Him,
This mercy held me up,
And in my hours of sorrow
Pour'd nectar in my cup.

And when that stingless pleasure
Which satisfies the mind,
Thro' devious paths _forbidden_,
I'd rov'd in vain to find;

His Spirit linger'd round me,
And prompted my return,
And with a sense of pardon
Inspir'd my heart to burn.

O! love, all thought transcending!
Love, boundless as the sea!
Encircling every creature,
Throughout eternity!

On this I'll dwell for ever,
Nor sigh for freedom more--
My heart, my tongue--all nature,
This boundless love adore!

My heart shall be a temple
Of never ceasing praise,
And ev'ry morn and evening
Repeat the gladsome lays.

O! thou great Source of being,
In whom alone I live,
Accept my heart; tho' sinful,
'Tis all a wretch can give.

Forgive the plaintive numbers,
Which held my harp so long,
And bless the _resignation_
Which crowns my gloomy song.

DESCRIPTION OF HEAVEN BY AN INHABITANT OF A DUNGEON.

On gloomy themes let others dwell,
And sing the miseries of hell;
My cheerful muse prefers to paint
The future glories of the saint.
High on a mount of purest light,
To which the clearest noon is night,
Whose top no angel wing can soar,
Nor keen-eyed seraph glance explore.--

Above the reach of rolling spheres,
Which mark our little circling years,
In awful grandeur, reigns our God,
And rules creation with his rod.
Twelve legion angels, throned around,
His lofty praise, in thunder sound,
And stooping from their jewelled seat,
Cast down their honors at his feet.

These, ever ready to fulfil
The dictates of his sovereign will,
Are winged for flight, and, at his voice,
To execute his word, rejoice.
In dignity above the rest,
With diamond mail and flaming crest,
The Angel of his presence stands,
To execute his high commands.

Round, farther than from central light
To where the comets end their flight,
In ever blooming beauty lies,
The glorious Eden of the skies.
There swell huge Alps, uncapped with snow;
Through fertile realms broad Danubes flow;
And cheerful brook meandering twines
Around celestial Apennines.

There hills of emerald are seen,
And damask vales, that smile between,
And all the beauties of the sky
In elegant assemblage lie.
There too the chrystal mirror lake,
By zephyrs kissed, in every wake,
Presents to pleased angelic eyes
Reflected scenes of earth and skies.

There, on a towering height, sublime,
The Lebanon of heavenly clime,
Where pleasure lives, where rapture glows,
The cedar spreads its princely boughs.
There fragrant Carmel's flowery grove,
Where seraphs tune their harps of love,
On playful breeze diffuses round,
Its spicy breath and tuneful sound.

There Sharon's rose, without a thorn,
Serenely bright with gems of morn,
On verdant tree majestic towers,
And smiling reigns, the queen of flowers.
Down by a sweetly-flowing rill,
Where pure celestial dews distil,
The lilies, clothed with beauty, rise,
And bloom beneath cerulean skies.