Chapter VII: Part II (3)

In the afternoon, I called on the Governor as appointed, and found him very much excited over the matter. He talked almost incessantly for a long time, but occasionally giving me opportunity for putting in a word. I attempted to assure him that he was laboring under a great mistake about my acts at the prison, that I had not been guilty of anything he had in mind, and that he must have been misinformed. But my assurances seemed to carry but little weight. He finally said, "Mr. Quinby, your management at the prison has caused me more trouble and anxiety than all my State business put together." I was perfectly astonished. There were my incessant and most arduous labors for peace and quietness in the institution, my great painstaking, with the sole view of leading the prisoners to do right in every respect, with never a hint from me, to a prisoner, of disapprobation of any prison officer or his acts,--with never a word of dispute between any of us as officers, besides my careful observance of all the prison rules to the letter, as I understood them, to which I had ever felt impelled by a sense of duty, and on which, for a long while, I had felt the importance of double and thribble care. How could my management in these things cause the Governor such trouble and anxiety? The truth now flashed in mind, that setting the guards and overseers to watch me, had its purpose. Then, there must have been a long and persistent course of running to his Excellency with a tissue of misrepresentations. Had it really befallen me as it befel the man going down from Jerusalem to Jericho? Things certainly looked in that direction, and perhaps it was nothing more than might have been anticipated; for, if one would persistently slander innocent ladies, it would be natural for him to misrepresent me. If, at every opportunity, he would defame the character of another, could I rationally suppose that mine would be any safer in his hands?

Having left the Governor with the settled conviction that my days of incessant prison toil were virtually ended, a gentleman of influence in the place, rode up to me in haste, with the remark, "Step aboard, Mr. Quinby, you must have legal counsel in these matters. A combination is formed to crush you, and the really guilty go free. I have volunteered to engage such lawyers, and they wish to see you at once to learn the true state of things and how to take hold of the case." Though I insisted that it would be of no avail, he gave no heed to that, and soon landed me at the proposed office door. I related, in brief, the general facts as they had occurred, and the interview just had with the Governor, to which the eldest of the number replied, "Your case is a foregone conclusion. It is already decided. You can not do a thing." But another proposed to consult with the attorney already in the work, and arrange as thought advisable.

Returning home, I found a friend waiting to inform me of the proffered service of still another lawyer. Thus friends were aroused and clustered around ready to help, as I had not anticipated. No little excitement prevailed in the place.

29. _The adjourned hearing._ I went to this with ideas clear, thoughts collected, mind pretty thoroughly aroused, and feeling ready to attempt a vindication of the right. Being again called on first, I commenced, referred to the assertion that I made the previous evening about not alluding to the prison in my lectures, that I was wrong in this, that I did refer to it, stating on what points, and the sentiments uttered, presenting the letters that I had received, showing that I uttered no such ideas as alleged, and gave a general outline of my reform moves at the prison and the motives that impelled me to voluntarily assume such excessive labors, closing thus: "And now, gentlemen, if, after doing all this, I am to be crushed, it will be a hard case."

They now referred to the other cases on which but little more was brought out. Before closing, one of the council, turning to me, remarked, "Now, Mr. Quinby, if you know of anything wrong at the prison, not here developed, we wish you to be free and state it, for we desire to understand the truth." But I did not think it best for me to say anything farther then, for, if I did, it would be opening a square fight with the warden, which I by no means desired, and for which I did not feel myself prepared. It would have been really stepping forward as leader in the matter, a position which I did not wish. Then, again, as I supposed, such prejudice had somehow been aroused against me, that, should I attempt to make further development, it would be of little or no use, and perhaps be worse for the cause than my silence. Besides, I hoped that the time would come, and that not far distant, when our rulers would have their eyes opened, and matters be so effectually sifted as to find the real truth.

Thus, the hearing closed, and we left the deliberating body to make up judgment, which was that "no blame is to be attached to any one," or to that amount. This was just as I had anticipated respecting the Sylver case, the food, &c., for the investigation really amounted to little in those respects. I was truly disappointed, however, concerning myself, not that any wrong, or even a shadow of it, was brought against me, but, as I judged from the Governor's remarks and the general drift of things, that certain ones had worked underhandedly, and so effectually as to render my removal a sure matter. But they did not succeed.

30. _Motives for desiring the chaplain's removal._ One asks, "What could be the motive of any for seeking your removal, if you had uniformly proceeded at the prison as before set forth?" That was the puzzle to me, for not a word had been said in that direction, except the note of warning from the prisoner, till conversing with the Governor, and then nothing specific; hence, I was left wholly to conjecture. My persistent effort to keep alive, as far as possible, what I could of the reform system of the past year, was, no doubt, repulsive to the warden, and in order to be rid of that, he would need to be rid of me. This might be one motive. Again, no little stir was being made in the city about prison usages, prison suffering, &c. Probably he thought I was at the bottom of that; that I wrote down facts inside, and divulged them outside. Hence, the nettling that one of my practices caused. Occasionally, I would be solving a long question in arithmetic for the prisoner at the striking of the signal for retiring to the shop, at which I would step aside, sit down, finish my solution, return the slate to the prisoner's cell, and leave. I also, at times, noticed that the deputy was watching me far more earnestly than the men. Then the question was asked at the hearing, what I was writing on these occasions.

Now, if he considered me as the cause of this stirring up, he, of course, would wish me away. This would be a strong motive. But I was not. True, I wrote the stories of a number of the men, as they came out, or till all were found telling over and over the very same thing, in substance. These, however, I laid away in my drawer, saying nothing about them to any one. But these men would also call on their former Sabbath school teachers, or other acquaintances they had met in prison, and relate to them their stories, and thus they spread. Neighbors would call at my house, and be talking these matters over, I being as reticent as possible, but would not come out squarely and lie in the matter by contradicting the accounts. And, further, the points which I had brought to the governor's notice were, without doubt, unsatisfactory to the warden. Then, also, my fitting up the prisoners as they left. He perhaps desired a man for the place, who might wish it so much as to be willing to pass on with doing but little of what I was attempting.

For months I supposed these the great motives which prompted that removal. But the next year I learned of another and perhaps greater than either of these. A man, retiring from prison, said to me, "Chaplain, how amused we would feel sometimes, last year, when you were preaching, at the appearance of the warden, to see him turn pale, and then red, and hitch on his seat. We understood it." Another, usually present, not a prisoner, said also that he had noticed the same thing.

At the time in question, I was treating upon the moral code from Sabbath to Sabbath, and would, in one discourse, take up lying, and point out as clearly as I could its influence upon the one practicing it, and upon society in general; then, perhaps, stealing, or swindling and thus on. In these efforts, I was intent on discharging my duty to the prisoners, on leading them from those sins, having nothing to do in the matter with the warden as to any of his steps in life. If personal applications were made, I was not responsible for that. I arranged for no such purpose.

But when the man, on his release, made the remark given, the idea flashed in my mind that here was a stirring motive to efforts for getting rid of me, with the hope of obtaining one who might be willing, on coming to certain sins, to let the plow of truth turn out, and not go straight through.

Whether that running to the Governor and that stirring him up so greatly, was prompted by one or another of the above reasons, or all combined, or something else, still, I never ascertained. Had charges been preferred against me openly and squarely, I could have met them face to face, known what was what, and shown their falsity. But as things were, I was left in the dark as to how to proceed, and to what conclusions I should come as to the motives prompting to the struggle to my disadvantage.

31. _Chaplain's change of course and the question as to who should conduct the prison correspondence._ After this hearing, I decided to change my course in two respects, the one about going out to lecture on Association matters, the other about writing to prisoners' friends. These I wholly abandoned. True, nothing was said to me suggestive of these changes, nor had I taken any wrong step on the points, but, in the investigation, I was led to see that these were _the_ sources whence misconception would be the most likely to arise, and where evil-minded persons might pretend a wrong, with some show of plausibility, without really any shadow of grounds in truth. I would not only shun every evil, but every appearance of evil, or what might be construed into an appearance.

Great sensitiveness pervades too many minds on the idea of attempting to show benevolence to a released prisoner, they holding it as a wrong to society. These will not hear on the subject understandingly, but with prejudice and a proclivity to misrepresent. Though the class does not embrace, in its numbers, the more intelligent, worthy citizens, yet it contains more or less who possess the power of casting mists of blindness before the well-disposed and honest seekers for the right.

In this class, we find the ideas of the brutal and vindictive freely cropping out in their utterances. "Those fellows ought to suffer. They were put in prison for punishment, now let them have enough of it, so that they may thus learn to do better, no matter if it were ten times worse." These persons seem to think that the correct way of prison management would be to select the most hard-hearted, cruel men of the State for officers, and deliver the convicts into their hands, for them to exercise their brutal feelings upon as fully and freely as they may choose. These points, then, evidently need to be agitated in the State, by lecturers and through the press, but it were better that this work be done by others than by the prison chaplain.

The loss of my occasional writing was severely felt, especially by outside friends. Thus, on Fast day of '71, a prisoner wrote a letter to a sister in the West, and asked for an envelope and stamp that he might send it, but weeks and months passed and none were forthcoming. There was the idea, "You must not ask a second time." The sister became deeply troubled at not hearing from or about the brother, not knowing whether he were dead or alive, and wrote to me, earnestly beseeching to be informed. But as I was now under the ban, I did not answer her. She also wrote to the ex-warden, but he was away and did not answer. In the fall, when that gentleman of Concord was chosen warden, she wrote to him, but, as he was sick and knew nothing of the matter, he did not respond. And no doubt she also wrote to the warden himself; but probably has not heard to this day.

Formerly, I should have written her something like this: "Your brother is alive, in usual health, and progressing well. Don't be over-anxious till he may write you." In this way I could have satisfied her, measurably, at least with no reflection, in any way, on prison management.

This neglect of the deputy seemed the more cruel from the fact that the man was a most faithful, obedient prisoner, and that this sister had previously furnished him with ample writing materials, that he might write frequently with no expense to the State, which materials the warden had confiscated on coming into office.

In connection with this matter, the important question comes up, In whose hands, really, should the prison correspondence be placed?--in those of the warden or chaplain? The correspondence, to be well managed, requires no little labor, especially if the inmates are permitted to write as they should and receive answers in return. If, in the warden's hands, it would tend to crowd other business too much, or itself be too much neglected, the latter having been the fact.

To avoid all this, in various places, they put the management in the hands of the chaplain. This would seem the more appropriate, being rather in his line of duty, and more easily performed by him. A schedule of the points of information, which should be allowed to pass, could be marked out by the competent authority and laid before him for his guidance, that matters might be correct in that respect.

This question ought to receive the careful attention of our law-makers, for proper letter writing should not be restricted in any degree in the prison. Good letters from home and friends will bring with them no little reformatory power and influence to quietness and order. Indeed, the privilege, by proper management, can be made a great force in disciplinary efforts among the prisoners.

32. _Change, for a time, in the warden's management._ Shortly after the death of Sylver, a man, occupying a cell near by, was taken sick, but could sit up the most of the time. As he said, the warden went to him and remarked, "I am warden here. Be free, and ask for whatever you need, and you shall have it." He permitted this man to sit with his cell door unlocked, and to go to the stove when he chose, and, to all appearance, properly cared for him, giving reason for much commendation. True, he was shortly to leave prison, and his statement would go towards counteracting the reports of prison cruelty circulating outside, and some were uncharitable enough to contend that this was the object of the better treatment.

One evening, about this time, I found a prisoner in his cell appearing as though he could live but a few hours, and perhaps minutes, unless immediately attended to. He had been in the hospital a number of weeks with a lung difficulty and, though he had not recovered, was transferred sometime that day, I think, to his cell,--to a colder atmosphere. Here, he found it difficult to speak or breathe. I hastened to the warden for him to attend to the matter. He hurried for the physician, who soon arrived, and had the sufferer returned to the hospital, where he died some weeks after. This was one of my only three requests or suggestions that were granted or favorably attended to by the warden while I was under him. True, I was not denied many times, for I early learned not to propose anything or make any request, except when absolutely needed.

This changed course in the warden, however, did not continue many weeks. That hearing and its acquittal had passed, and the Sylver affair was dying away, when, at length, I thus found him returned to his former spirit. Though early in the season, on a warm day, he had divested the sick of their flannels, and I suppose all other prisoners. Soon the weather became cooler, and I found a sick man in the hospital suffering greatly for want of his flannels, which articles, as he asserted, he had not previously been without, summer or winter, for twenty years. He was trembling with the cold, which much enhanced his distress. Going to the warden, I presented the case, and received the reply, "If he wants his flannels, let him ask the doctor." He could meddle in the matter enough to divest the man of the needed articles, but would not move to put them on, and thus mitigate his sufferings. It was then early in the afternoon, and the man would have to suffer till the next forenoon, the usual time for the doctor to make his visit. When he came, as I was informed, he lectured them severely for removing the flannels at all.

33. _The fate of Henry Stewart and others._ Henry was said to have been exceedingly unfortunate in his parents, they having been largely chargeable with his proclivities to evil. He was highly excitable, easily thrown into a perfect phrensy of passion, insane at times, and, on the whole, very difficult to manage, requiring a large amount of patience and skill in those over him. They needed to study his peculiarities and accommodate their treatment to his particular case, much the same as would the driver of a vicious, balky horse. The former managers had so treated him, that he had really improved, and his condition was appearing more and more hopeful. But in the new order, where officers were not expected to bother themselves over peculiarities, it was different with Henry. Though laboring with faithfulness generally, what was bred within would appear in outward acts. When a spell came on, they would "shake him up," as the deputy said (the import of which I did not fully understand), and put him in the solitary. At length his insanity, or whatever had impelled him, would pass off, and he come out in his right mind. Confinement to his cell would probably have been just as effective in securing his good deportment and less injurious to his health. Whenever I visited him, he would appear hopeful, tell what a good boy he proposed to be, how he meant to live, and not get into any more trouble; that he should soon be out, and would then strive to be a good man. Many air castles the poor fellow thus built, but to see them fall. The prison fare and general management was now highly unfavorable to his proclivities, tending constantly to make them worse. Men repeatedly told me that the officers would severely beat him, and that he was sadly abused. One day, in a freak of insanity or anger, he struck his overseer to the floor with a bed-post, coming within a hair's breadth of ending his life, and was aiming a second blow, which a fellow prisoner arrested, and thus saved the overseer. Henry was put in the solitary, and I know not how long kept there, nor how used; but when, at length, I found him in his cell, he was greatly changed. I was perfectly astonished! He was not only insane, but changed in physical appearance; shrunken in flesh and with a strange expression of countenance. For a time, I could hardly believe it was Henry, but finally had to admit that it was really he. I have seldom seen one with a fever change more for the time. Soon his insanity took a boisterous turn by night, keeping the other prisoners all awake, which induced them for a time to confine him to the solitary during these hours, and keep him in his cell by day. But his howls so disturbed the prison family, that they next resorted to keeping him in the shop by night, lying upon his back, his feet chained together, with a post between them.

Thus, they continued for a season, but finally, the governor sent him to the insane asylum. Shortly after, I was speaking to one of Henry, in hearing of the warden, as being insane, to which he replied, "No, he is not insane. He is ugly, of which I could have cured him, had his time not been so near out." I thought, "You _would_ have cured him by death, and were very near it."

As he was taken to the asylum, the warden said to me, "Chaplain, I wish it understood that he is taken out to be tried for attempting to kill his overseer," thereby expressing the desire, as I understood it, for me to give that version of the matter to the prisoners. "What an idea!" I answered in my mind, "the chaplain going about lying for the warden!"

Fisher was naturally of a low order of mind, but still possessed knowledge enough to work well at many things under the direction of another, was to come out the early part of March, but whom I missed from his cell a while previous, and, from his long absence, began to suppose they had sent him off unbeknown to me. But the day previous to the expiration of his sentence, I found him again in his cell, completely demented. I was told by more than one, that his overseer, attempting to direct him in a certain way about his work and not succeeding, seized him by the collar, plunged him head foremost to the floor, and then jerked him about, he probably now uttering some disrespectful words; then the deputy was called and took him to the solitary, I was also informed, and plunged him against the outer prison door, on the way, with such force as to push it open.

When first finding him in his cell, as stated, I asked where his father lived, and he answered, "Enfield," as I understood it. But after that, I could not obtain even a sound from his lips. He kept almost constantly spitting, would frequently laugh to himself, but I could learn nothing about his legal residence. I was expected to care for him, and would not turn him loose to suffer and perhaps perish; but I found that I should be liable for damage, should I send him to another town. True, the State, by her prison management, had reduced him to this wretched condition, and ought to bear the expense of maintaining him, but there was no law or provision for that. Hence, finding it my only safe and legitimate course, I obtained a decree from the probate judge, took him to the insane asylum, and notified the commissioners of that county, of the same.

No doubt, with proper prison fare and treatment, both of these men might have come out able to earn their living, under proper guardians, which they would have needed; and that the fate of both was directly chargeable to the prison treatment.

There was one, also, who left after my departure from prison, belonging to another State, who had become nearly as demented as Fisher. Hence, they obtained for him a railroad pass, and put him on board the cars with a label fastened upon his arm, directing him to be transferred to such a State and town, where his friends were supposed to live. He, too, I doubt not, was reduced to that demented condition by the prison treatment for he was far from such a state at the beginning of the year.

34. _Warden's want of courtesy to prisoners' visitors._ By rule, no friend is allowed to see a prisoner except in presence of the warden or a subordinate that he may hear whatever is said. The time allowed for a visit is usually short, and the parties, of course, wish to make the most of every moment. But no little complaint was made, that, when the interview was in the warden's presence, he would engross much of the time in recounting his exploits in prison management, the disorders he found, the corrections he had made, how they would deceive his predecessor, but could not deceive him, and the like. No matter how far one had come, or at what expense, he would, perhaps, be treated thus. Some, on going away, having had an opportunity of saying but few words to the prisoner whom they visited, would utter remarks which were anything but complimentary to the man thus imposing upon them, as they regarded it, and to the State for allowing such things to occur.

35. _Effects of the new order upon the prisoners._ The mental effects have been spoken of in three cases. These were the most marked of that type. The effects on the physical system were also very apparent. It could not be otherwise, for the men lost no little flesh. One man said he weighed himself about the time the order in question commenced, and found his weight some one hundred and eighty pounds. He left after being under the system a little more than six months, and had lost some twenty-five pounds in weight. And I should judge this to be a fair general average, according to their appearance, of the change in most of the prisoners.[3]

[Footnote 3: The Bill of Fare at the prison for this year can not be given, as it was not, to the writer's knowledge, published.]

And why not this result? A large number did not pretend to eat any dinner on Mondays, and many more ate but little. There was such a general carrying back of the food at this meal, that I decided to count particularly and see exactly what the facts were. On two consecutive Mondays in April, I think, I did this and found a dozen or over, not even taking their dishes to their cells, so had nothing to eat; thirty-two each day, returned their basins, all, I think, with the bit of bread gone, a large number not having touched the wheat part, some having eaten a very little, and others more, but all returning more or less of that; then the dishes of the remaining prisoners would be empty. Those were the only days I counted so carefully in the spring, but judged them to be fair samples for that time of the year. But the number was not small who did not pretend to take this meal while the cracked wheat appeared. Then, as informed, they would pursue a similar course with certain other meals, for instance, when the fish was served. Some would not take the soup meal. The Sabbath morning repast of baked beans was ever spoken of as good, satisfactory both in quality and quantity. One man said his custom was to save some of the beans as a relish for his meals early in the week. The peas were complained of as bad. One overseer said to a prisoner, who was making his dinner of these, "I would as soon take so much shot into my stomach." The lack of vegetables was severely felt, especially that of onions, though I was informed they purchased a bushel, or so, in the winter, of very small onions, or scullions, as many call them. In the spring, I found a man in his cell sick, who said he was having symptoms of the scurvy, a difficulty he had in the army, that he was suffering much for the want of vegetables, and that he knew of others also suffering from these scurvy symptoms.

The warden, of course, well knew of this dislike of the food, but the men must take what he allowed or go without. A man asserted, on leaving prison, that the warden said to him, "All I have against you is, that you would not take your rations better." He replied, "I purposed to obey the prison rules, but did not feel myself bound to eat what I could not relish." One who was sick in his cell with a dispeptic difficulty, said he could not take brown bread as it soured on his stomach, but could eat white bread, for which he had asked, but to no purpose. I mentioned the matter to the steward, asking if he could not have the white bread. He answered, "No. They indulged him in that under the former administration and he thinks he must continue to have it, but now every one is to fare alike, so he must take his chance with the rest."

But the reader will ask, "Did not this warden allow the men who chose, to take anything extra?" Certainly. The former custom had been to place brown bread, cut in slices, near the rations, each man having the privilege of taking as many slices extra as he might choose. Or, he would convey dishes with extra rations to certain cells afternoons if requested, or when the occupants were to work extra evenings. This warden allowed any, desiring, to take of the brown bread extra, but only one slice each. I would now, also, though very seldom, see dishes of cracked wheat setting on the beds as extra rations, or basins of hash-skins.--The reader understands that, in making hash, more or less will dry, or burn upon the sides of the kettle, leaving a thick skin when all the eatable part is removed.--This skin, scraped from the kettle, composed these hash-skins, perfectly dry as husks. This was to save everything and have nothing wasted.--The reader will understand again, that when distributing books to the cells, and looking after the books, I could not avoid seeing these things.

With the failing flesh also went the strength to work. A man described the effect on himself, thus: "On first going into the shop after eating, I feel quite vigorous for my task, but soon a peculiar goneness comes on, and finally becomes so that what I do is through fairly driving my system." He had been very vigorous, able to go through almost anything, but what he had passed here proved sufficiently powerful to bring him down.

An overseer told me, that the men in his division became so weak that it required great effort on his part to keep some of them at their task, they being hardly able to stand up by their machines. But his duty forced him to keep them there as long as they could do anything, though a part became unable to accomplish more than one quarter of their ordinary work. His heart would really ache for the fellows.

It should be recollected that everything in the shop, but tending them, is done by machines, each operation having a machine for performing it, the business of the prisoners being to pass the articles to and from the respective workers. Hence, the amount of work turned out did not, of course diminish in proportion with the failing strength of the workmen, as must have been the case in the old method of hand planing, sawing, &c.

I subsequently learned that food would be carried into the shop for the suffering men, but I know not to what extent. At first mentioning, I thought that it could not have been done, and expressed the doubt, but my informer explained how, showing a perfectly feasible way.

The effect of the new system was plainly visible, too, on the health of the men. This, of course, could not be avoided. A man, who was very healthy, and vigorous to work when it commenced, ran through the winter into early spring when he began signally to fail, said he could not eat the rations any longer, and went without food of any amount, still constantly performing his task, till his system entirely broke down, and he was taken to the hospital for a drugging course, the doctor remarking to me that he had "failed with no apparent cause." I think the want of food was sufficient cause. Had he received proper care and suitable aliment, he would, doubtless, have been spared this sickness. I was informed that, when he was near death's door, he was pardoned, to die with his friends.

Another, who had fallen a victim to prison treatment and was in the last stages of consumption, said to me, "Had they used me as well when I was in health and able to work as they now do, I should not have been here at this time." Calling the next day, I learned that he had received pardon and been carried home, that he might die there. His stay, I learned, was very short.

How many of these pardons were granted in view of death, I never knew. They were gratifying to friends most certainly, but would make the prison mortality appear smaller than it really was. For, surely, if a man sickened in prison and received pardon as above, his demise should of right be set down as among the prison deaths.

A man came out in the spring, having been a prisoner one year; was well and robust when entering, but the ordeal of the winter brought on a rheumatic difficulty, so that towards its close he was really sick, and, as he remarked, solicited the warden for the privilege of laying off and doctoring a little, with the answer, "I know what the matter is with you, you wish to get rid of work; you can go to the shop;" and he was given no respite, nor was anything done for him while there. He went home so used up, that, as his father asserted, it did not seem that he could have lived at the prison but a few weeks longer. He revived, however, with home air and home treatment, worked considerably through the summer, but, as fall came on, had a return of the rheumatic trouble contracted in prison, with which he suffered many months, and died. A number of others, too, on their leaving, I found completely broken down, who were sent away to friends, or places of their usual abode, to be maintained by relatives or at public expense. A man, when leaving, said that he had there sometimes been forced to work, when so sick that five dollars a day would have been no temptation to him for thus laboring. One was reported to me as having been kept to his machine till fainting, and then carried to the hospital. One, with a consumptive difficulty, not able to work in the shop, was put in the cook-room to do what he could there, and kept at his task till, one Sabbath eve, he was taken to the hospital where he died the next Tuesday morning.

But why pursue this dark recital? All such management, of course, made the prison sickness appear less in the physician's account than the reality. It seemed fortunate to the men that the term of sentence to many so expired as to leave them under this rule but a comparatively short time.

In conversation with an overseer here, who had large experience, the idea was started as to how long time would be required for the system reigning at the prison this year to use up completely the number it commenced with, could all have been kept truly under its influence, with no respite or mitigation. His conclusion was some two years. Nor could I think he was much out of the way, that is, take the case as it bore on a large share.

The system left its legitimate effects on the minds of the inmates, aside from driving to insanity and idiocy, namely, irritability, angry feeling, or moroseness. Under the former rule, the men, when leaving, would generally express much gratitude towards officers and friends for the interest taken in their welfare, apparently filled with a hope and inspiration here gained, prompting them to strive for their own best good, from which no little advantage, to them, might be hoped. But under this rule, how different! Men fully admitting the justice of their sentence, and having come with the purpose of serving it out submissively, and with not a word of fault-finding, would go away complaining of the wrongs done them in the general prison fare, their hearts filled with bitter feelings, prompting them to execrate those from whom they had suffered these wrongs, and curse the State for putting such men in power over the prison. One who was so reduced that he found it a task to walk about, remarked, on leaving, "I have some accounts to settle with them over there" (meaning the warden and deputy), "and if I recover, I shall return to Concord and settle with them. I will have my pay unless they are the strongest." Some would leave with the feeling of _don't care_ as to what course they should take.

What was said above as to losing flesh among the prisoners, should be taken with some exceptions. The cooks could manage to satisfy their demands of appetite. So also could those doing common chores. Some were naturally very small eaters, and some would eat all furnished them, however prepared. The females had such food as went to the warden's table, and, so far as I learned, what they needed, and ever appeared in good heart, except when sick.

A female prisoner, for some offence, was condemned to her cell for a week and to feed on the rations from the other part, which was held by her probably as a God-send rather than a punishment, for it gave the females the very opportunity desired for really seeing on what the men had to live. After this, when a woman left she was not slow in her declamations against the miserable fare of the men, and how they must of necessity suffer.

36. _Comparative prison order for the two years._ Some represent that the present warden found great abuses in the prison, all of which he has corrected. No doubt, this idea has quite extensively prevailed, and that interested parties have taken no little pains to extend the impression as widely as possible. Let us, then, look to the point with care, and give full credit for whatever has been gained in that direction.

The warden banished from the prison all bouquets and flowers, and talked of them in the most sneering manner, contending that the practice of presenting them to prisoners was the most outrageous wrong. He has put an end to all attendance, from the city, upon prison meetings of every class, except when he may give special invitation himself; has abolished all lecturing to the inmates by outsiders; and would have abolished the secular school, but for the persistent efforts of the chaplain; has ended the custom of having the female prisoners assemble with the males in the chapel Sabbath mornings for worship, requiring all moral efforts made for them to be put forth in their work room. He has also ended all funeral observances at the prison, cut off all distribution of religious tracts to the prisoners, and all trinkets or trinket-making in the cells, and has forbidden the receiving of presents from friends, excepting tobacco, &c.

If there were prison abuses in any or all of these, he has effectively corrected them, and should receive the full credit.

Then there were those two orders which he established in the shop, and he should be credited with whatever good they secured. The one was, that a man, meeting company in a door or pass-way, must turn and face the wall till they had passed, thus professedly not seeing them, though, before turning, he must have enjoyed the sight of all. The other rule was, that the men, when waiting for work, must stand at their machines, and by no means sit down.

In respect to account-keeping, no comparison can be made, for, previous to the service of this warden, the arrangement had been entered into for him to have no concern with that, the financial matters being attended to by an agent.

We come next to the behavior of the prisoners, the great point really to be looked at,--the one which outsiders, no doubt, always suppose to be meant, when reading or hearing about gains in prison order. In the chapel, with the most critical observation and careful weighing, I could not discover the slightest difference. The behavior was good, equally good at all times, in both years. So, also, in the hall, as far as my knowledge extended. As to the shop, I could not pretend to judge from personal observation, but an overseer, who served under both, gave me all needed information. He said, that he found it more difficult to keep order in his division the second year than during the first; that some were more excitable, revengeful, inclined to vent their spite on their machines, if nothing else; to throw those out of order and break things generally, costing him far greater effort to manage them. The uniform testimony of the men leaving prison has been in the same direction,--that they were more inclined to watch their overseers and take the advantage to commit little misdemeanors, as would naturally arise from this increased prompting to vent their ill-feelings.

So far as I learned, more contraband information was smuggled in during the second than the first year; certainly I heard it often alluded to. They would hint at outside matters that I knew nothing of, and in a way that showed considerable knowledge of them. Take an illustration: The day after Pike's nomination as governor, a prisoner said, half inquiringly, "Well, it seems that Pike is nominated." I could not say "No," in truth, and, from my position, was not allowed to say, "Yes." Hence I answered, in a joking way, "How much you think you know about the outside world;" to which he replied, "I do know. I had a paper brought me that very afternoon, before it was dry, giving an account of the whole proceedings. He will be elected, too, and we shall have different fare at the prison."--What one knew would be communicated to others, so, of course, this fact was generally understood among the inmates.

I have since learned, that, during the second year, a somewhat regular correspondence was carried on between the two wings, three couples, I think, thus making their arrangements for marriage, to be consummated shortly after their release. And the enjoyment to them was, that some of these letters were passed directly before the warden's face and eyes, without his notice.

One letter from the south wing was miscarried, and fell into his hands, for which the sender was locked up and thus gained the knowledge, above referred to, of the men's rations. But, nothing daunted at the fate of this missive, she prepared another and sent it before her release, or very soon after, which passed in safety. Besides this irregularity, parties in prison corresponded with those even out of the State, giving a pretty full account of the prison management, a friend of mine being shown quite a pile of these letters.

Hence, taking all things into account as to the deportment of the prisoners, we are forced to the conclusion that no improvement was secured the second year over the first, but rather a loss, that is, so far as I saw or heard.

The warden, of course, did his best towards preventing all prison abuses, for he considers himself a very smart prison officer, so shrewd that no prisoner can get the advantage of him. But he sometimes found more than his match. Some thought it not a very hard matter to "pull the wool over his eyes." The question has more than once been asked, "Is it possible that he can be so befogged?" Why not? He is an old man, between seventy and eighty, of great self-esteem, perhaps entering his dotage. If such a man be placed in so responsible a position, what may we expect?

37. _Good traits in the warden for prison service._ He possessed two most excellent and important traits for a prison officer. He was usually at his post, would be but seldom away and then only for a short time, but once, I think, for a few days, during the year. He would also be almost constantly looking after things himself, not leaving matters altogether to subordinates. True, some would complain of finding him in unsuspected and rather out-of-the-way places, but it taught them ever to be on the alert, ready for inspection at all times.

While, however, these traits, with a moderate share of judgment, would qualify one for running a steam engine, other and still higher and more important qualities are needed for managing a prison.

38. _Chaplain's inability to prevent knowing more or less of the prisoner's troubles and the prison management._ If the chaplain is alive to the prisoners' moral needs, their sorrows of heart and intent on affording the requisite advice, in searching for knowledge how to direct his words, he will often, of necessity, learn more of things in general than he desires. The case of the young man spoken of in Sec. 25, who had been in the solitary and gave this as an excuse for no lesson, is in point. He was making no complaint, but simply excusing himself. This plea, however, brought with it an idea that no little lack of prudence may have existed in a point of prison management, but of which I could not judge without knowing further circumstances. Thus there are numerous incidental ways by which knowledge will come to mind unbidden. Men, thinking themselves ill-treated, or who see others wronged, will speak of these things before he can stop them, and thus some knowledge of wrong, perhaps, is gained. For example: A man in his cell, no little excited, commenced: "How my blood boiled this afternoon at seeing them throw S., that sick man, on those timbers, and hurt him so." But just as soon as I saw his drift, I called out, "Hold on. You know I must not hear about that." Before I could stop him, however, enough was in the mind to raise the supposition that the feeble one was being abused, which idea subsequently received confirmation from the fact of his death.

39. _Secular school success._ My course was to commence at No. 120 and call at every cell in succession, where the inmate would engage in study, till arriving at No. 1, and then over again in regular order, being able, to "go the rounds," as we called it, about twice a week, each receiving my attention only so often.

I had quite a variety of exercises. Two commenced their alphabet, although some twenty-four years old. A number took reading in easy sentences, with spelling. Some thirty took arithmetic in its various stages, a few, as in the year previous, taking it up in review a while before leaving. A number in this branch made good proficiency, considering their disadvantages. Two took book-keeping, one doing but little, the other obtaining such a knowledge of the science as to prepare him to keep books passably well. But this was under difficulties. Having no blanks for practice, I obtained for him three large slates, one for day book and so on. But soon I found him with blanks all ruled. True, they were made of brown wrapping paper, on which he would write with a pencil. Asking no questions, I looked to his work as he pushed on with all energy and determination. No one could be more diligent.

One, having been a machinist, expressed a desire, a while previous to his liberation, for an opportunity to practice somewhat on mechanical drawing. I obtained some patterns, carrying him one at a time. He would copy them with great exactness, and had been called on occasionally to draw working patterns for machinery in the shop. How lamentable that a man of his talents should go into service.

One took Latin, went through the grammar, and became able to read somewhat in the reader. He expressed a determination to obtain an education, when released, for which he was striving, when last heard from.

One, a house painter by trade, took arithmetic, and English grammar. He was quick to learn, and a keen, smart fellow. He frequently expressed the wish that he could learn something of ornamental painting, and thus be able to work on signs and fancy carriages, when liberated. I, of course, could do nothing for him at that, directly. But it occurred to me that perhaps I could, in a measure, indirectly. I could perhaps start him somewhat in penciling, thus leading his mind to a practical knowledge of making the sketches and outlines of what he would wish to paint. This idea he grasped with avidity, commencing, in a drawing-book that I furnished him, on simple outlines, thence to shading, and finally to foliage, showing as good improvement as is usually found in our schools. And this exhibited the more talent in him from the fact that I could give only a few general hints at the work, from what I had gathered by hearing teachers when directing their pupils. Hence, when coming to difficulties, he was left to work upon them as best he could, till conquered.

Having a work on Perspective, from which I had gained a few ideas, I gave him some hints on that. But we had nothing to practice upon but the inside of the prison, the walls and windows. He labored somewhat on the idea of the vanishing point, and that of the diminution of the angle of vision as distance increases.

Thus, the reader will see, our school took a somewhat wide range. I would interest the mind, so far as could be, in what would profit, and thus beget a love for truth and turn the attention away from wrong. With the wholesome ideas gathered in these studies, I would also inculcate the moral, to elevate the thoughts and heart to the truly good. Here, I constantly kept in view the idea of the best interest of the prisoner and the State.

This labor was most fatiguing. Standing there at the cell doors with no means of sitting, I would, at times, become so completely exhausted as to be obliged to retire to rest a while. Then, taking the air from the cells would occasionally be most repulsive and injurious to health, the whole weakening to the system.

I attempted to have a short school exercise with the females twice a week, but word soon came that they could not be spared for that, and the effort was abandoned. The pupils did as much, perhaps, as could rationally be expected, under the circumstances. Could we have had the school in the chapel, greater results would have crowned our efforts, with much less labor.

Though I was wholly cut off at first from having an evening school in the chapel, near the latter part of January, the warden informed me that I might have one there on Thursday evenings, if I would give up the prayer meeting, but not to begin till warmer weather. I could not harbor the idea, for a moment, of relinquishing the prayer meeting, and supposed I must wait for the proposed Thursday evening effort till the warden moved. At length, I found that he was waiting for me, when it was too late to move in the matter at all. Indeed, had we attempted the effort when first spoken of, it would probably have been more trouble than benefit.

As to the penciling, nothing was said by any in disapprobation of it, yet, after that hearing, with the thought that possibly this might be one of the points of offense, I took from him all the materials except, perhaps, the slip on perspective, which he greatly regretted.

40. _Sabbath school success._ The prison year commences the first of May. The former warden continued some ten weeks into the second year, during which time the Sabbath school attendance remained as usual, averaging eighty-six.