Chapter L: Noble (2)

Mr. Stricklin was engaged as a guard. As soon as he entered on his duty, his ears were made to tingle with the lectures of his new associates. He was a young man of amiable disposition, and having but little acquaintance with mankind, he presumed that what the keepers told him was true. His conduct under such impressions was such as might have been expected. One day as he was in a shop to relieve the keeper, he gave some indications of the study in which he had been engaged, and also of the effect which his lessons had produced on his mind. As he was walking through the shop, he stopped suddenly, and demanded attention. When all was silent, and every ear open to what he might say, he observed that he had been employed as guard, and might stay longer or not so long, just as he might feel disposed; but while he did stay, he said, if the prisoners would treat him well, he would be kind to them. There was some singularity in this, as also in his manner, which no one failed to notice.

At night he went on guard, and his duty was to see that no prisoner made his escape. This required that he should be attentive to every noise, and be furnished with means of defence. The place for the guard at night is a small apartment in which he is locked up, and must stay till released. This room is in the prison, and adjoining the cells of the prisoners. The means of defence are a gun and a sword. With these arms, and in this place, Mr. Stricklin was posted when the events of which I am now going to write, occurred.

Scarcely had he entered on his post, before some of the keepers placed themselves at a grated window, exactly over his head, and began to make a noise on the grates like the sound of a file. Their object was to make him think that the prisoners were breaking out. He heard the noise, and began to call on the prisoners to be still, supposing they were filing the grates. The noise was kept up, and some chips and an old shoe were thrown down at him, by the keepers at the window. For nearly an hour they continued their cruel and unmanly sport, until he became frantic, and began to exhibit unequivocal evidences of a terrified and shattered intellect. He had before this time ascertained that the keepers were the authors of the noise he had attributed to the prisoners, and the effect of such mean and hypocritical conduct on him was most painfully developed. He became as furious as a hungry lion. He ascended and descended the stairs with a rapidity of step never equalled, and with shrieks that pierced the very heavens. He stamped on the stairs as if a mountain had fallen, and the sound made the iron doors tremble on their hinges. He kept every guard and keeper at bay till his time expired; and at the very minute for him to be relieved, he screamed like a panther that his time was out, and was let out of his room. He went immediately to bed, and by morning became rational. After breakfast the Warden told him he had no more for him to do, and kicked him out headlong on the brick pavement before the door. At least, the undisputed report says so; I did not see it myself. This threw him back again into the most wild and frantic ravings, and he returned home and died in a few weeks. His mind was a perfect ruin, and he left the world a poor distracted youth.

Now, my dear reader, pause and contemplate this melancholy sketch. Who were the criminal cause of this young man's death? I know some of the men who stood at that grated window, and frightened him to madness; and I say to them, if they should ever read this page, that the blood of a promising youth, of good character and amiable connexions, has stained their doings, and it is high time for them to repent. The voice of Mr. Stricklin's death cries to heaven against them, and the voice of _such_ a death, can never cry in vain.

But if it be true, as is reported, that the Warden treated him with such cruel and shameful indignity, what shall be said of _him_? He had sons of the same age, but none more likely or promising; and how did he know that it was not through the means of some of _them_, that this youth was ruined? Every body knows that Wardens of prisons are tyrants, and few will question the perfect right of _this_ one, to a very liberal share of this character. Certainly, if he abused that ruined young man as it is said he did, he richly merits the title of Nero the Second. At any rate, I know enough of him never to call him a _merciful_ man, and I would ask all men, all angels, and all creatures, to look at his conduct just as it is, and decide on his fitness or _un_fitness for the office of Warden of a penitentiary. He never found any fault with those who drove the victim of his anger to distraction; I know not but he applauded them. I know, however, that Mr. Stricklin came to the prison in health; that he was frighted to distraction one night while on duty, by some of the keepers and guard; that he was turned away in the morning; and that he died in a few weeks perfectly deranged.

It is reported that he plead with the Warden to stay, remarking that it would injure his character to be turned out so. He was well reported of by all men, was an officer in the militia, and the pride of his family. No one can reflect on his untimely and unhappy death without the most painful emotions of soul. And in concluding this article I feel it to be a duty which I owe to the young men of our country, to exhort them never to become prison keepers, but to shun those places which have a tendency to blunt the finer feelings of the heart, and stupify their moral sensibilities.

And I would be equally friendly to such as are already engaged in prisons. Let them try to act like merciful beings, and forget not that cruelty is no part of their office. Let them redeem the character of gaolers, and shew by their conduct that humanity and justice can dwell in their hearts. It is important that they should heed this counsel, for it will be a sad vicissitude after having been _keepers_ on earth, to become _prisoners_ in eternity.

OVERWORK.

Until 1821, no compensation was allowed the prisoners for what they did over their task. In that year, a regulation was made, granting _one cent_ per yard for all that might be done over _ten_ yards per day in the summer, and _eight_ in the winter, to be paid in goods out of the store, or money, at the option of the Superintendent.

This was thought by many to be a very _unequal_ regulation. The average profit to the Institution of every yard of cloth that was woven, could not have been less than _four cents_; and as the prisoners must do their full task before they could derive any benefit from the regulation, it was thought that they should have _all_ that they earned over it. The language of the regulation, fairly interpreted, seemed to be this--_Give me four cents in cash, and I will give you an order on the store for one!_ It assumed to be a very merciful provision for the prisoners, but it was like the mercies of the wicked--"_cruel_." Every man of any just principles, who has no interest to warp his judgment, will at once admit, that the prisoners ought to have had all the avails of their overwork. But anyone can see that the interest of the prisoners was not consulted at all in the regulation. The design of it was to get as much work done as possible, and the _one cent_ was only a bait.

That I have not erred in stating the design of the Superintendent, in his regulations for overwork, to be his own benefit, and not that of the prisoners, is very evident from his conduct in relation to those who complied with them. He would not pay money except at his own option, but paid out of the stores; and to induce the prisoners to do overwork, and take their pay in trifles, he permitted them to purchase almost any thing they wished, and very many articles which had never been allowed them before. He even went so far as to bring into the weave-shops specimens of very gay handkerchiefs, and carry them along in sight of the prisoners to tempt them to earn some. This had its desired effect, and handkerchiefs soon became very plenty. But the worst of all was, the extravagant prices demanded for all articles sent to the prison. One of the keepers told me that he could take the money and purchase things for a quarter less than the prisoners gave. After my release I went into different stores in the village, and ascertained that I had been charged a very high price indeed for what I had purchased.

Another expedient to get work out of the prisoners, was the offering of _bounties_ to those who should weave the most yards in six months. This created a spirit of emulation, and drew forth miracles of industry. I took one of these prizes, but I shall have to regret till my dying hour that I ever entered that race. I feel the effects of it, at times, in every part of my system.

As soon as the prisoners began, _generally_, to enlist in the overwork, they began to be charged for things that were furnished to them before without pay. If they broke any thing, or did the least damage to their tools, in a way that was deemed _careless_, they had to pay for it. Handkerchiefs which were furnished gratis, before, they had now to pay for. And every expedient that avarice could devise was practiced, to make the prisoners' accounts against the Institution as small as possible.

I consider the regulations for overwork as the spawn of a most miserly disposition. There was no benevolence in it. If the good of the convicts had been the object of it, there would have been no "_one cent a yard paid out of the store_," but the full amount of the extra labor, paid in money; and the entire plan would have endured a close examination in day light. There would have been no mean taxing for accidents and trifles--no paying in gewgaws--no extravagant prices; but all things would have been as indicative of pity and good will to the wretched, as they now are of self-interest and steel hearted avarice. And the benefits of the regulation would have been _equalized_, so that a man who had not so good a _faculty_ as another, would not have been deprived of them. Some men had power to do twice as much as some others, and _they_ could derive some advantage, while the others could not, though both were equally deserving of favors; so that the Superintendent's regulation was very similar to Calvin's irrespective decrees and partial election.

But faulty as the principles of the _one cent_ system were, some good certainly grew out of it. It is a bad system, indeed, that has _nothing_ good in it. But the _good_ was much more than balanced by the _evil_. It ruined many a constitution; sent more than _one_ man prematurely to the grave; and laid up for _all_, the pains of infirmity and old age.

This sketch shows on what principle the prison is conducted. There may be many _minor_ principles. Of these the _reformation_ of the prisoners may be a fraction. Their punishment may be a _unit_. But the major point of all is, PECUNIARY ADVANTAGE. The interest of the captives is not a _grain_ in the calculations of the prison. If they live, they live, and if they die, they die. But living or dead, sick or well, sinning or praying, saved or lost, they are estimated in pounds, shillings, and pence, and one farthing would turn the scale of their destiny to heaven or hell.

How true is the language of the poet--"There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart!--It does not feel for man." And surely the morals of mankind must have reached a dreadful climax, when even ministers of justice deserve heavier blows than they inflict, and the seraph accents of mercy are turned into the war whoop of death.

PARDONS.

The Governor and Council have the power of granting pardons, and once in every year they meet to attend to this and other duties assigned them by the Constitution. The prisoner who hopes to share in their mercy, procures petitions from his friends and former acquaintances in his behalf, and causes them, with his own petition, to be laid before them at their annual meeting. The principal officer of the prison has been generally depended upon to lay the petitions before the Governor and Council; but the conduct of this officer has so far failed to place him in the confidence of the prisoners, that they never trust their cases in his hands, if they can get any one else to attend to them. The common opinion is, that he is never willing to let a prisoner go who is any profit to the Institution; and for this opinion there is as much evidence as there is that a merchant never wishes to lose a good customer, or a doctor to hasten the cure of a rich patient. I was more confirmed in this opinion after my release than I had been before. A friend of mine who had been for several years, and was then, a member of the Legislature, told me that the fall before, he called on the principal officer of the prison to get my petition, and be prepared to lay my case before the pardoning authority, and was told by him that I "_had not petitioned_." When my friend told me this I was thunderstruck. That officer _knew_ that I had petitioned, for I conversed with him on the subject, and gave the petition into his hand; and he informed me when he returned, that he laid it before the Governor and Council, and told me some of the observations that were made upon it. What shocked me the most was the _hypocrisy_ of the man. He had professed to be my friend--and was a member of a christian church; and yet he was so unwilling to lose my _labour_, that he prevented the interposition of my friend for my release. I have the most unshaken confidence in the veracity of my friend; he could not have been mistaken, and he had no motive to misrepresent. This fact is directly to the point. It speaks a great deal. And it shews _why_ the prisoners are not willing to trust their cases to the officers of the prison.

It is a fact, and I wish to have it known, that it is very difficult for a prisoner who is any profit to the Institution to get a pardon. I will not pretend to _apply_ the fault, but I know the fact; and hence some of the convicts, acting on the base principle of opposing craft to craft, and returning evil for evil, render themselves of as little use as possible. It has become a proverb in the prison, that a good weaver is sure to be kept as long as he is able to weave. This proverb is inscribed on the facts that transpire every fall, and it ought to find a humbling and condemning application somewhere.

Deprived thus of all confidence in their keepers, the petitioners, who have the means, generally call to their assistance some of the lawyers in the village. These men are always ready to work for cash; and when they know that their assistance can be of no service, they will take from a prisoner those very dollars which he has ruined his health and destroyed his constitution to earn. Like blood suckers, a few of them gather around the prisoners every pardoning time, and carry off all the money that the poor creatures have been able to scrape together.

Now I find no fault with these lawyers, for such is their trade; but I condemn the authority for permitting them to practice on the credulity of the captives, and trick them out of their hard earned dollars. It is a libel on the principles of the Governor and Council to suppose that _such_ lawyers can plead them into the exercise of mercy. They know what some of that profession will do for money, and there is no instance in which they have been of any real service to their clients in the prison, in applications for pardon. The Executive meet to decide from _facts_, and these facts should come to them from the authority of the prison, and from other sources. The authority of the prison ought to do its duty, and secure the confidence of the prisoners; and thus prevent the unprincipled and avaricious interference of these lawyers. I do not mean to reflect _generally_, on the profession of the law. There are in that bright array of learning and talent, as many high, noble, and ethereal spirits as any other profession can boast of--_and some of the meanest souls that ever lived_.

There is but one general rule, according to which all pardons should be granted, and this rule is JUSTICE. It may be just to pardon one man and not another; and if it is right on any account to pardon one man, it is right to pardon _all_ who are in the same circumstances--indeed it would be criminal _not_ to. Justice holds an even scale. So does _mercy_, which is only that exercise of justice, which relates to the _wretched_. And the reason why one man should be pardoned and another not, is, that, according to all the facts in the two cases, community would be safe in the pardon of _that_ man, but not of _this_. The design of all punishment should be the reformation of the sufferer. When this is presumptively effected, the object is attained, and all further suffering for the crime from the hand of the law, would be purely vindictive, and infernally cruel. This is the _only_ principle on which _God_ punishes; and hence _endless_ punishment under his government, and all _capital_ punishments by human laws, would be equally unjust and inconsistent. In this respect, men often err, but God never can; and human laws will not be perfect until they abolish capital punishments and chastise only to reform.

If this principle had been acted upon in the Windsor Prison, many years of suffering would have been spared to human hearts, and many a soul would have gone with less guilt to judgment. That prison is called a _Penitentiary_.--As properly might _hell_ be called _heaven_. The spirit of the penitentiary system finds there no place to lay its head. Not the _reformation_ of the convicts is sought, but their _earnings_; and they are treated just as an intelligent but heartless slave-holder would treat his negroes--made to work as long as they can earn their living, and then cursed with freedom that they may die on their own expense. The keepers lay it down as an axiom in their practice, that it is impossible to reform a prisoner. Perhaps they will admit that God could do it, and I cheerfully agree with them that none but He can reform a sinner after he has fallen into their hands. And it is equally plain to my mind, that nothing _less_ than omnipotent power will ever reform _them_.

CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE PRISONERS WHEN RELEASED.

Some of the prisoners have the means of dressing themselves decently when they leave the prison, and of living till they can find employment; but the greater part of them go away from that place in very mean clothing, and with not a dollar in their pockets. In this situation they are turned loose upon the world, often far from their friends, and not a soul to apply to for assistance. They cannot get into work any where, for they carry "the mark of the BEAST," not only "in their foreheads," but "on the borders of their garments," and every body shuns them. They have no money, and consequently they must either _beg_, or _steal_. Nor are they _moral agents_ in this case; _necessity_ is laid upon them and they _must_ do it. The Superintendent said the same to me once when we were conversing on this subject. "If they do not get into employment within three days from their leaving the prison," said he, "which is next to impossible, they must either beg, steal, or die."--Is it not a pity that this man did not do something for the benefit of those who were going out into such a probation as would try the integrity of a saint? especially when the government authorised him to?

One reason why the convicts leave the prison in such a shabby dress, is, that no care is taken with the clothes that are worn thither; all the garments which the prisoners wear to the prison, are thrown together in a garret, and left for the moths to prey upon. By this means the poor garments become worse, and many that were excellent are destroyed; so that when the owners have occasion to wear them again, they are good for nothing. Even new garments which the prisoners purchase while there, are often so much neglected as to be greatly injured, and sometimes nearly spoiled. And some valuable articles, such as boots, hats, and vests, have been lost through the carelessness of the keepers. In these things, however, there has been some reform of late, and I hope it will be carried through.

Another reason why _some_ of the prisoners fare no better when they leave the prison, is, that some one of the keepers has a _spite_ to gratify, and he takes this opportunity, not only because it is the last, but because it best suits the malignity of his purpose.

I have seen some leave the prison in the winter, with thin summer garments; some without a hat; and many scores who were not fit to be seen with a company of _colliers_. They had served their time out in a _penitentiary_; but their appearance was enough to demonstrate to all that saw them, that they had been under the care of _im_penitent keepers. They went out among human beings, but like him who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves, both the _priest_ and the _Levite_ shunned them, and they were not often fortunate enough to be noticed by a SAMARITAN. The truth of the case is, the law in this particular is faulty. No man ought ever to be turned out upon society as these prisoners are. If they deserve to be free, give them a freedom suit, and money to get into business; but if they do not, keep them till they do. Give a man a fair chance to become honest, and not place his principles where Gabriel's would be polluted. If men desire to make sinners better, let them help them to reform, and not place them under a _necessity_ to do wrong. Let there be an adherence to principle, and if punishment is to be under the government of mercy, let it be merciful throughout; but if it is not designed to reform, then say so--write your laws in blood--catch every criminal you can, and either hang him or shut him up for life. Let there be consistency between principle and conduct, and if it is the purpose of the law to make its ministers furies, let them not be clothed as angels of light.

This neglect of the prisoner when he is released, is the great cause of so many re-commitments, either to the _same_, or other prisons. The man is unable to get into employment. He reads scorn in every eye. He has no clothes fit to wear. He has no home, nor pillow to lay his head on. He spends his days on the highway, and his nights in the field or in some barn. He has not a crust of bread to satisfy the imperious demands of hunger. He drinks the running brook. His spirits sink down. He is a stranger in his own country, and a hermit in the midst of society. He is starving in the midst of plenty. Uncared for by others, he forgets all care about himself. Worse off he cannot be, he may be better. He has nothing to lose, and any change must be in his favour. He puts forth exertion and cares not how the experiment results. Look at this man. Is not his situation almost an excuse for any thing he may do? Place yourself there, and conjecture how _you_ would act. What _can_ he do? What could an _angel_ do in his circumstances? Here, you who would trace second offences to their cause, here is the reason why so many return to their former abodes. Where, I ask, is the mercy of a penitentiary, which treats its subjects thus? Don't say that they could get into employment. They could not. Would you employ a man so meanly clothed, that he was not fit to tend your hogs, and whose every appearance told you he had either been released from state prison, or broken out of gaol? You would not. Neither would your neighbours. What then could he do? Let the benevolent think of this, and act accordingly. That is not benevolence which sits by the sufferer only to rivet his chains, and leaves him when it can torment him no more. This penitentiary is like the thieves who fell upon the traveller to Jericho, it strips its victims of their raiment, and leaves them half dead.

GOD'S VIOLATED RULE OF TREATING PENITENT CRIMINALS.

AN ESSAY.

If the wicked restore the pledge, give again that he had robbed,
walk in the statutes of life, without committing iniquity; he
shall surely live, he shall not die. None of the sins that he
hath committed shall be mentioned unto him; he hath done that
which is lawful and right; he shall surely live.--EZEKIEL xxxiii.
15, 16.

In this passage of Sacred Scripture, the manner in which God deals with his sinful creatures, when they repent, is very clearly and forcibly asserted; and with equal clearness and force is it laid down as a law of universal and eternal obligation, that when a sinner turns from the evil of his way, and does that which is right, "none of the sins that he hath committed shall be mentioned unto him." The meaning of this is, that the greatest sinners shall find mercy on their reformation, and that the sins of which a man has repented, shall never be thrown in his face, nor be improved in any way to his injury. Such is the rule by which God is governed, and which he enjoins as a law upon his creatures; and I wish to inculcate its benevolent and sacred principle upon you, with reference to those who are coming up from the infamy of crime and the penalty of the law, with a determination to reform their lives and regain the confidence of their fellow men. I wish you to treat them as God does; not as if they had never sinned, but as if they had repented; and shew by your conduct, that you share in the delight of angels, when a lost sheep is found, and a prodigal returns. But before I proceed any farther, I will hear some objections which may arise, and take an impartial view of the ground I am going to occupy.

It will be said that those outcasts whose cause I am espousing, have rendered themselves infamous by crime; that they have disturbed the peace of society, trampled on the laws of God and man, and have been shut up in prison to keep them from further outrage upon the rights of community. I grant it. If you are a christian, what then?

It will also be said that but little dependence can be placed on the professions of this class of sinners; that having transgressed _once_, they are likely to _repeat_ the crime; and that the next thing that is heard from them, they will be back again in their old place.--This is true, and the very conduct which grows out of this objection, is, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the sole cause of it.

Another--I could not believe it if I had not heard it myself--another objector will say--"Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetors, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God."--Alas! that such crimes should ever find a name among men! But the same divine authority which declared this, affirms also, that "_such were some of you_;" and if "_ye_ are _washed_, _sanctified_, and _justified_ in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God," is there not hope for these also?

Having thus briefly noticed some objections which I had reason to anticipate, I shall proceed with the subject before me; and I propose, in the first place, to state how repentant criminals _are_ treated by those who call themselves christians, and even by christian ministers, after they are released from prison.

In the second place, I shall shew how they _ought_ to be treated, according to the divine principle of the text.

And lastly, I shall glance at the good that would flow from such treatment not only to _them_, but to the _community_, and to the cause of _religion_.

I. I am to state how repentant criminals _are_ treated by those who call themselves _christians_, and even by christian _ministers_, after they are released from prison. In doing this, I shall confine myself to positive _facts_; and of these, I shall select only such as have come under my _own_ knowledge, or which were related to me by those who either _observed_ or _experienced_ them.

The first individual whom I shall cause to pass before you in connexion with the treatment which he has received from professing christians and christian ministers, is the Rev. J. Robbins, a man of uncommon powers of mind, and of unquestionable piety, and who has more divine seals to his commission, than many of his opposers.

While he was suffering for his sins within the dreary walls of a State prison, he was led to think on his ways and reform his life. At the expiration of his sentence, he was let out into the world, without money, and very thinly and uncomfortably clothed. In this situation, destitute of all things, and far from his friends, he went into the adjoining city of Boston, and went to work with a _hand-cart_. The weather was cold, and he was not able to obtain clothes enough to keep him warm.

In this forlorn and suffering condition, he applied to the Rev. Mr. ****, who had been Chaplain of the prison in which he had been confined, for some relief, or assistance to obtain employment. This Rev. gentleman was personally acquainted with him; knew that he had resolved on leading a christian life; and knew that he was at that time in need of a friend. What did he do for him? Why, he said--"Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding he gave him not those things which were needful to the body."

If these things are right, let it be known. If this is the christianity of the Bible, let it be avowed--let the preachers from their desks declare it, and bring the high standard of christian benevolence down to the muddy surface of their _practical_ illustrations of it. Let there be harmony between doctrine and conduct. Either give us a _revision_ of the Scriptures, to accord with the morality of the church, or let its maxims as they now stand in capitals on all its pages, be copied in the every day and every where conduct of those who profess to be the _salt_ of the earth, and the _light_ of the world.

Here is a minister of the everlasting gospel; and in the person of one of his followers, he turns away the Saviour himself, "_hungry_, _naked_," and from "_prison_."--Rev. Sir, for just such conduct as you have been guilty of, in the instance alluded to, the Son of man will one day say to some,--"Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire!"

After some time Mr. Robbins obtained help from his distant friends, and was enabled to make a respectable appearance. But in the interim he learned by hard experience, that shivering and half-clad limbs can, even in the benevolent, philanthropic, and christian city of Boston, pass by the priest and the Levite, and range the streets, impurpled by the wintry blasts, uncompassionated and unrelieved.

As soon as circumstances would permit, he united in christian fellowship with a church, desiring in proper time to become a missionary to state prisons, to declare to the erring and degraded sons of crime the salvation of the gospel. In this view of his duty he appeared singular with some of the rulers of the church, and for this, or some other cause, he transferred his fellowship from the Congregationalists to the Episcopal Methodists.

On making this transfer, he applied to the church for license to exhort, for which he obtained ONE vote only. But as there was no _contra_ votes, his license was barely granted. Not a very _cordial_ reception this, and more sensitive minds than his, would have felt it; but nothing of this kind ever had an effect to deter him from going forward in the course of his duty; and after the usual time, he was licensed as a preacher.

He began now to think more seriously of turning his immediate attention to prisons. Explaining his views to the church, enough fell in with them to form a society, called "THE PRISON MISSIONARY SOCIETY," of which he was appointed Agent and Secretary. This Society was formed in Boston, and according to its plan, Mr. Robbins went out to form other similar societies in different places, till his views should be carried into effect by sending all the means of salvation to as many prisons as possible, and by finding employment for prisoners when they are released.

The design of this society was noble, and it ought to have been supported. Not like the "_Prison Discipline Society_," which tortures the prisoner while it can, and then throws him out, unprotected, unhelped, and friendless, on the scorn of mankind, to pursue from _necessity_, his old course, and be sent back again; _this_ society aimed to treat the prisoner as a human being, and to effect his reformation by the mild means of the gospel, while he is confined; and to go with him when set free, and prevent him from being compelled to sin again, by giving him clothes, money, and employment, and elevating him to the dignity of a citizen, and the respect of mankind. Such an enterprise as this would have done honor to a Howard, and in the hands of Dwight, it would have lived. But in the aristocracy of our religious associations, _enterprises_ and _children_ are treated alike. The son of a great man is respected, wise or foolish, but the children of the poor must hew wood and draw water, though able to measure minds with Newton and Locke.

How many societies were formed, I know not, nor can I tell why the enterprise was abandoned. The probable cause was, that none but Mr. Robbins felt much interest in it, and not able to do all himself, it fell through for want of adequate support.

In the conduct of this Society, there was an act of injustice to Mr. Robbins which, in my view of it, deserves reprehension. He had formed many societies, had collected some money, and had promised that a minute report of all his doings should be made to the public, so that every contributor might know that the contributions had been applied to the proper object. This report ought to have been made, both to save his veracity and to vindicate his honesty, both of which have suffered, and, in many places, have been completely compromised by the non-fulfilment of his official promise. If, however, _he_ is satisfied, _I_ shall not complain.

While engaged as the agent of this Society, Mr. Robbins spent one year in Concord, N. H. and officiated as Chaplain to the State prison. Whether his labors were well directed in that sphere of usefulness or not; how much or how little good was effected; whether his conduct was approved or condemned by the authority of the prison, I am not prepared to say. My opinion, however, is decidedly in his favor. I believe from what I learned on the spot--from the prisoners and the public--that he was the very man for that place; and that he labored _indefatigably_, _intelligently_, and _efficiently_, for the spiritual good of his brethren in bondage. I believe, too, that he was unpopular with the keepers, and I regard this as an evidence in his favor, of the highest kind that the case admits of. Had they espoused his cause, and desired his continuance there as Chaplain, I should have doubted his fitness for that office. For it is not more certain that there are _prisoners_ and _keepers_, than that he who seeks the real and lasting good of the _former_, must find opposers and enemies among the _latter_. I make this statement with perfect fearlessness, in view of much personal observation and experience; in accordance with every principle of the philosophy of man; and from the history of prisons in every nation and age of the world.

At the expiration of his engagement in Concord, he visited Windsor, Vermont, and spent about six months as Chaplain of the prison there. In that place his labors were abundantly blessed, and will tell on the happiness of many immortal spirits, in the kingdom of God for ever. I pen this with the most distinct, vivid, and impressive recollections; and in the emotion of my soul, I cannot help inquiring why he was so abruptly discharged from that field of promise? It was his desire to _stay_,--it was the desire of the _prisoners_ that he should stay,--the indications of _Providence_ said--"_stay_,"--he offered his services as a _gratuity_,--and his conduct was not by any one impeached.--Why then was he removed? I heard the Superintendent of the prison assure him, that his services as the Chaplain of the prison, had been perfectly satisfactory. What, then, I ask again, nerved that unsympathizing arm, that threw him out of employment and usefulness, at the commencement of winter, to freeze or starve, to live or die? Let the truth be told, and tell it, you that can.

At the opening of the next spring, he thought of returning to Concord, and preaching again to the prisoners. He waited on the Governor with letters of recommendation, and laid a petition before the Legislature to obtain the chaplaincy of the prison for the ensuing year; but he did not succeed. Why he failed, may be inferred from the following facts.--

The Methodists were at that time contemplating a settlement in Concord. The number that had espoused that faith was very limited, and without some help, they could not support a preacher; and the salary allowed to the chaplain of the prison would be a very important item in their calculations. But this could be obtained only by having a minister of their order appointed by the Legislature, which was then in session. But then Mr. R. was a Methodist. True, but he was not the man for that place; and he did not _wish_ to be, any farther than for the _prison_. _Why_ was he not the man for that place? Was he not a good preacher? had he not learning and talent adequate to the claims of the place? and was he not admitted to be pious? O yes; in all these respects he stood on no mean elevation. Why then was he not the man? Why, he had been a sinner; and though his opposers told the Lord every time they prayed, that they had been the _chief_ of sinners themselves, they yet thanked God that they were not like this _publican_, and said to him--"Stand off--we are more holy."

This then is the sole reason why they set their faces against Mr. R.--HE HAD BEEN A BAD MAN. Whom then would they have? and how could they obtain him? In the Methodist Church the preachers are the property of the bishops, and they can dispose of them as they please. Accordingly the bishop was applied to, and a preacher was stationed in Concord for the coming year. This preacher was then recommended to the Legislature, and appointed chaplain of the prison, to the exclusion of the first applicant.

By how mean a motive is human nature capable of being influenced? In its idolatrous devotion to self, how reckless of consequences? By this act of pious selfishness, _fifty dollars_ were gained by the Methodist Society in Concord, and a man who was peculiarly fitted for usefulness in a certain sphere, and who was trying to move in that sphere, was thrown out of all employment, and compelled to abandon a benevolent enterprise, which had twined round every fibre of his heart.

Is this a fair specimen of religious conduct? Is this the meaning of that divine command which requires all men, and christians _especially_, to do as they would be done by? Is this "_not_ mentioning to the penitent sinner the sins that he hath committed?" Is this _brotherly love_? Is this the spirit of the prayer--"forgive _as_ WE _forgive_?" With such records as these in the books which will be opened in "that day for which all other days were made," who would be willing to go to judgment?

One circumstance more, and I shall have done, for the present, with Mr. R. It is a rule in the Methodist Church that a local preacher shall be ordained deacon, when he has been licensed to preach _four years_; but Mr. R. has been on trial more than six years, and is not, I believe, ordained yet, though he has been recommended for it. He has also applied several times, with the best of recommendations, to join the annual conference, but has always been rejected. Why? Not that he has _done_ any thing amiss, since he has been among them, but they fear he _will_! He is in good standing as a _local preacher_, but he must not ascend to the house of Lords, lest he _should_ do something, or through fear that he _has_ done something in days of yore, that might overshadow the dignity of their illustrious body. Mary Magdalene could be in the society of Jesus; the thief on the cross could be with his Lord in Paradise; and the disciples could give the right hand of fellowship to Paul; but things have altered vastly since those times. The servant who has been forgiven, takes his fellow servant by the _throat_ now-a-days. Should our Father in heaven act as some of his professed children on earth do, universal and eternal damnation would be certain. This annual conference refuses to admit a man into its fellowship, whose life for many years has been that of a christian, and who lives in the confidence of all his numerous friends, for fear that it will be disgraced; and yet a similar body, under the same bishop, voted Rev. E. K. A. as pure as the morning dew-drop, when the public opinion had thrown upon his soul all the guilt of the fallen angels. _Proh pudor!_

So much for the Rev. Mr. R. and his connexion with the sympathies and charities of christians. Against those whose conduct I have condemned, I have no personal animosities to gratify; nor have I any particular feelings of extraordinary friendship for Mr. R., that would lead me to vindicate his conduct against truth and justice. I am his friend to the full extent of honourable and christian principles, but no farther. Were there any thing wrong in his conduct, I could see it as quick as any one, and our mutual rule has ever been, not to cover each other's faults. No one, I think, knows him better than I do, and unless his conduct appears to me very different from what it really is, he is certainly an injured man; and his wounds are the less excuseable, inasmuch as they were received in the house of his _friends_. My sole design is to state _facts_, which I mean to do _faithfully_, without reference to friend or foe. If I should err, it will be unintentional, and I shall be open to correction; if I am correct, I am not answerable for the inferences which may be drawn from my statements.

Another individual who has been _brothered_, and _kissed_, and _smitten in the fifth rib_, by the Joabs of modern christianity, I will introduce to your acquaintance under the title of THE AUTHOR.

But before I enter upon those events which belong more immediately to my subject, it is due to many pious and very excellent individuals to record of them, that the author ever found in them a spirit becoming the christian, and principles of oral and religious conduct which demonstrate, that, as there were seven thousand in ancient Israel, who had not bowed to the image of Baal, so there are many in _modern_ Israel who are true to their profession. These he will delight to remember, and to cherish for them the warmest emotions of gratitude, while life remains. They are of that number who make _actions_ the criterion of _character_, and who expect to be _judged_ according to their _works_; and who claim not to be esteemed _christians_ any farther then they _live_ like christians.

As soon as the author was released from his long and dreary confinement, he united with the church with a view to the ministry, and to spending his life in publishing salvation to prisons. To this course he had been urged by many of his particular friends, and prompted by his most sanguine feelings; and to his mind, there was but one objection against it. This objection grew out of the popular interpretation of St. Paul's language, that a minister must have a good report of them that are without; which is generally understood to exclude from the desk all those who have, in any way, rendered themselves infamous, however sincerely they may have repented, and however thoroughly they may have reformed. On this he balanced for some time; but when he reflected that John Bunyan and the American Fuller, had been useful in the ministry, after having a very _bad_ report of them who were without, he thought that he might be excused if he followed their steps. It occurred to him, also, that if Christ came into the world to save _sinners_--if the pious king of Israel came into the courts of his God, after washing his hands from the blood of _murder_, and bathing himself from the pollution of an _adulterous bed_--if the sacred orator of MAR'S HILL came to the ministry from off a sea of martyr's blood, which his _wicked hands had spilt_--if the preacher on the day of Pentecost had been the _Satan_ whom Jesus ordered to get behind him, and the _profane denier_ of his accused Master--if, in fine, he who was with Jesus in Paradise, in the _evening_, had been conducted, in the _morning_, from a _criminal's dungeon_ to the cross of an _ignominious death_; no good reason could be assigned why a man might not leave a prisoner's cell, and take that course to usefulness which providence seemed to point out.

The objection thus obviated, and a sense of duty prompting him, he cheerfully followed in the opening of providence; and in the usual time, after the customary examination, he was admitted into the ministerial fellowship of the Methodist denomination, and licensed to preach the gospel.

He now began to feel as if he was in the bosom of none but true and christian friends. In the deep blue firmament of his future hopes, no cloud was seen; and the earth around him was rich with the fragrance and verdure of promise. But "disappointment smiled at hope's career," and blight beneath, and clouds above, soon taught him that a "brother will utterly supplant, and a neighbor walk with slanders"--that "they will deceive and not speak the truth."

During the first six months after his enlargement, he was frequently in company with some of those preachers who had officiated as chaplains at the prison; and from what he had heard them say in their sermons and prayers, he was expecting them to take some interest in his case, and give him some advice. But in this he expected too much. Not one of them ever inquired what he was doing, nor offered any assistance to get him into business; nor did they ever mention the subject of _religion_ in his hearing. These were _negative friends_, for they did him no _good_. They were also _negative enemies_, for they did him no _harm_. And had _all_ his enemies been _negative_ ones, it would have been a very happy circumstance for him; but alas! most of them have been _positive enemies_ to the extent of their power.

The first brother in the ministry who lifted up his heel against him, was Rev. R. L. H***. I would mention this man's name with some respect, knowing that the person he injured, feels that a great debt of gratitude is not cancelled by any efforts which his enemy has made, to divide him from the esteem, respect, and confidence of the church. The claims of gratitude I know are lasting, and it must be painful to find one who has been a benefactor, become an enemy without any cause. But such things _do_ happen, and this is an instance of it; and though the heart that bled retains no resentment, still I have a motive for rescuing this fact from oblivion, and preserving it in this connexion. The fact is as follows.--

The author, after an absence of some months, returned to the vicinity in which Mr. H---- resided, and by the request of a friend, preached from a particular text. In the sermon he dropped some remarks, which were considered as outstripping the theological landmarks of the order, of which it pleased Mr. H. to take a most scrutinizing notice. The sentiment objected to was, that the proportion of the saved over the lost, would be as _ten thousand_ to _one_. As this opinion was very harshly and unfairly treated, the author took it up in another discourse, and argued it at full length from the Scriptures. Mr. H. was present, and closed the meeting with a string of remarks as long as the sermon, which he treated with no high degree of christian courtesy. After the service was closed, the disputed sentiment was discussed by the preacher and Mr. H., and the latter gentleman soon found, that he had engaged in a work for which he was perfectly unprepared. Scarcely able to write _legibly_, profoundly ignorant of _all science_, and even of the first principles of his vernacular tongue, he yet had the vanity to contest a point in the high science of theology; and the immense weight of his ignorance, which he had never felt so sensibly before, so wounded him into resentment against his antagonist, that he began to denounce him as a _heretic_, and tried to ruin his christian character in the church and among his friends. As the author left that place immediately to fulfil his engagements, Mr. H. had an excellent opportunity to gratify his unenviable feelings against him, which he did to a far greater extent than will suit his convenience in the world to come.