[Footnote 2: Important facts on this matter are withheld in the narrative above, as the possessors were unwilling, at the examination, to divulge them publicly except under the shield of an oath.]

I know the deputy attempted to exonerate himself from blame before the governor and council, by asserting that the guard, sent for him, failed to do his errand correctly, and that he understood himself called to still the noise among the men, and for this sent the guard back.

Had that really been the case, why did not the guard go among the men and endeavor to still them? Why go to Sylver's cell and expend his efforts there? Or, admitting the deputy's statement to be true, did that help the matter for him in the least? If summoned by the watch to quell a rising tumult, was he, as an officer, acting the part of duty by remaining quietly in bed and sending nothing but a guard to the work, who could effect no more than the watch himself? All the circumstances combined in forcing one, understanding the matter, to the conclusion that they acted knowingly and intentionally respecting the man.

Do not understand me as charging them with intentionally and deliberately murdering their victim, for this I do not, but that he fell a sacrifice to a system of prison management that they were intent on establishing; a system under which the officers are to be the sole judges of the prisoners' needs, use them as they may choose, put them in whatever condition they may see fit, and they in turn not allowed to utter a word, nor give the slightest expression of feeling any more than the dumb, driven ox. If they die, "it is of no account; he is only a prisoner," as an officer said to me, respecting another who had died.

On entering the hall the evening after Sylver's cruel death, I found the prisoners greatly excited. One exclaimed, as loud as he thought prudent, "Murder! murder! They have murdered one of our number." Another remarked, "Well, we see what the fate of any of us may be, if taken sick." Marked anxiety was depicted upon all their countenances; and who would wonder?



27. The Sylver case excitement and hearing before the Governor and Council. The brothers were greatly aroused at what they could see and gather about this death, felt that deep iniquity had been practiced in connection with it, and resolved on a criminal prosecution of the warden. But, finding, from legal counsel, that they probably could not make a case in that line hold, they were thrown into doubt respecting what to attempt.

Meanwhile the story of the affair spread in the community, carrying with it exaggerated reports, that "Sylver was really murdered; was gagged and left to die alone," and thus on. When passing the streets in the city, I would be inquired of, if such were really the facts, to which I would respond in the negative, that he died in the hospital with attendants about him, but could explain no farther. Execrations at the prison management were often heard.

Whether true or not, I never ascertained, but report had it, that the doctor felt called upon to demand an investigation of the affair before the governor and council, and that the warden favored looking into the other departments, and so a hearing was appointed to be had at the council chamber one Friday evening, in the latter part of February, or in early March. I was summoned to be present, but with no intimation for what purpose. The Sylvers, when cherishing the idea of a criminal prosecution, had looked about a little for evidence, and had secured the statements of an overseer at the prison, when the death occurred, written out in the form of an affidavit and sworn to before a justice of the peace, and also those of a released prisoner. These were in the hands of the lawyer they had employed, or purposed to employ, to manage for them. This lawyer appeared, but it was understood that the brothers had become disheartened and ceased to interest themselves in looking up evidence, preparing for a thorough investigation of the death in question; why, we know not. None were put on oath, hence the hearing failed of bringing out important matter, as the men having it, would not divulge unless under oath.

I was called on first to testify and asked to state about the Sylver case, but, as before related, I then knew but little of material value. The transactions of that Wednesday night, I had, at that time, heard something of, but to me they were only matters of report, and among the points requiring the efficacy of the oath to bring them out. Hence, I could say nothing of them. I was asked some questions about the prison living, but on points concerning which I knew but little, and then was turned directly to my own prison management. It seemed by the questioning that, in this summary manner, with no opportunity to prepare for defense, I was virtually put on trial for a violation of prison rules on two points,—the correspondence, and passing information to prisoners,—and called on to testify against myself. But I had nothing to cover up, had acted in all cases as I thought to be right, so frankly stated my whole proceedings in the matters, as near as I could recollect on the spur of the moment, and also explained my motives, excepting that I could not, of course, allude to anything of the warden's procedure as making my efforts especially needful to the best order of the prison. No one else was called to testify on these points; but I was kept standing during the narrations and questionings till so far exhausted that, perhaps between ten and eleven, I had to ask the privilege of sitting.

Then I was called on to state about my lecturing for the Prison Aid Association, whether I had alluded to the prison or not. Having become somewhat confused in mind, for the time, I could not recollect a single allusion I had made, and therefore answered unqualifiedly, "I have not," not thinking to say, "I have not to my present recollection." The Governor replied, "There must be some mistake in the matter, for I have received two letters from places where those lectures were given, stating differently," and he called for another witness.

As to the Sylver matter, the effort was made to leave the impression on the mind that the patient really died of a heart difficulty, though he probably would have died of the congestion, but not so soon. No pretense, however, was made that any unhealthy condition was found about the heart, except in the attending physician's assertion, that, on puncturing the pericardium; a little gas, as he thought, whizzed out, and that he recollected of having read in two medical works, of cases where such a gas collection had proved fatal. The physicians whom the Sylvers employed on the post mortem, were not present, and hence no light was gained from that source.

The lawyer presented the written statements of the released prisoner, referring to the death, the cold, food matters, &c., at the prison, but this was summarily swept from the board by the testimony of the steward: "There is not a word of truth in his statement." I happened to know personally, then, that some of the points in that statement were true, and what I did not know myself agreed exactly with the general testimony of the men leaving prison. But I was not referred to on the point and thus that testimony was useless. The affidavit from the overseer, I think, was not presented.

At about two o'clock at night, the hearing was adjourned until the next Monday evening, after which I arranged with the Governor to see him Monday, P. M. I saw the letters referred to, which contained the grossest misrepresentations, uttering sentiments I never thought of, or, if I had, should not have expressed there, unless demented.

I went home with a strong conviction that efforts were being made, by whom I knew not, to turn the whole force of thought upon me and make of me a scape goat in the matter. I retired, but not to shut my eyes in sleep for the night. For a time my mind remained in confusion about those lectures, but after resting awhile, and the excitement had passed off, all came clearly to view, as given on a former page.



28. Preparing for the adjourned session. Saturday morning I wrote to a few understanding and reliable gentlemen, who heard the lectures in question, alluded to the letters and their allegations, and by return mail received answers, asserting that, as nearly as they understood, and by inquiry from others who heard, no such ideas were received as charged in the missives, giving some ideas that were uttered, a very different sentiment from the letters, and what no one could censure. That day, I met the writer of one of those letters in the city, and to my inquiry, he replied, "Oh, I did not hear the lecture, or know anything about what was said, personally; but my son was present, and gave me what information I had." I could but think, "A bright son that!"

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.

On the first Sabbath of the new order nearly the same number were in attendance. But many had no teachers provided, and I could have nothing to do about arranging for the school's best interest.[4] The following Sabbath brought a great falling off, still greater the next, and so on. In a few weeks the warden peremptorily dismissed one of the teachers he had invited, telling him that if he would call at another time, he would give his reason.

[Footnote 4: In speaking of the Sabbath school teachers employed, page 69, the author intended to say, such a number that each teacher could have a guard stand by him and see that nothing contraband passed.]

At first, a prisoner would occasionally ask a question, as usual, and a little discussion spring up; but the warden at once crushed all this, requiring the teachers simply to put the questions as in the book and the pupil to give the answer and nothing more. The number continued to fall off until it went below thirty, giving me fears that none would attend, all my efforts for their continuance being of no avail. No excuse would usually be given. But one said, "I won't attend with such a warden," and I judged this the general reason. At length I found uneasiness pervading the teachers, one having determined to resign; but I entreated him to remain for the sake of the prisoners and the Sabbath school, for, if he left, his class would follow, dropping the number to twenty or under, and all would be likely to take the same course. He did not feel satisfied with laboring under such circumstances, with a guard, may be a mere boy, at his side to watch him, and he, perhaps, turned off as unceremoniously as the other. He preferred going of his own accord. But my plea prevailed, and he remained.

The average attendance after the advent of the new order was forty-eight; for the whole year, fifty-seven.



41. Religious success. The contrast between the religious element of the present year and that of the past was painful. Still, among those who at first gave up all hope of struggling against the tide, a few were induced to forsake that ground and struggle on; thus we hope something of the past was saved.

In my discourses I felt impelled to dwell more largely on the moral code, to which the inmates gave respectful attention. The prayer meetings were well attended, though but few of the inmates would take any part. One of the Sabbath school teachers was usually present, and labored with good effect. We took up more of the time in Bible exposition, which would occasionally seem to awaken some interest.

As to our true religious success this year, or the real good accomplished, none but that Being who knows all things can decide. One thing is certain, much earnest, prayerful effort to that end was made, much hard labor performed. But it is difficult rowing against wind and tide. Still, we probably shared in as large success as could reasonably be looked for under all the circumstances.



42. Lack of truthfulness at the prison. We are often told that no confidence can be placed in the word of a prisoner. But in my experience under the new rule, I was taught the sad lesson that I could place no greater confidence in the assertions of some of the officers. A complaint of this character had repeatedly been made by released prisoners. Still, it required personal experience to enable me to appreciate its full and lamentable force. Hence, the shock I felt at the virtual request of the warden for me to join in the falsehood course, by telling the prisoners that Henry Stewart, when removed to the insane asylum, was taken out to be tried for attempts to murder his overseer.—Then, again, there were the assertions I repeatedly heard the warden make to prison visitors, on passing through the cook-room. "We give the prisoners good food and enough of it. We purchase the best of articles the market affords, and have the food well prepared." He would repeat this in earnestness and apparent sincerity, as though he really believed it himself.—Subsequently, a gentleman of the city, of undoubted veracity, being about to visit the parents of a prisoner, called and asked the warden how he was, with the answer, "He is all right; you may tell his folks that he is all right." In a few days after, it was found that, at the very time of this assertion, the man was so sick that the doctor had nearly given him over to die.

Then I would sometimes smile and sometimes feel sorrowful at his changeable appearance; perhaps if one of influence and authority came in, he would put on peculiar airs of suavity, and expatiate upon how things were and should be in prison, while one without that influence might enter and receive entirely different treatment. I here see how our rulers may have been led on at times, unaware of the true state of things in the institution. How easy to cover up!

Then in the female department, I called for a convict in order to arrange for her disposal on leaving prison, and was told, "The assistant is in the city with the key to their apartment, therefore you can not see the woman." But how was I surprised shortly to learn that, at the moment of this assertion, the assistant was in the kitchen at work, and known to be there by my informant.

Is it any wonder that such people disbelieve in prison reform?



43. Reported quarrel between the warden and chaplain. The idea has been circulated, how extensively I know not, that the warden and chaplain had a quarrel between them at the prison. It seems to have pervaded some minds in the legislature at Concord in '71, being used to the disadvantage of a bill before that body in regard to the prison, the fate of which perhaps was made to turn on that. No doubt a certain Concord gentleman, who had an ax of his own to grind in connection, knows very well how this report was made so prevalent. Whether he or another started it, I know not.

But that idea had not the slightest foundation in truth. The circumstances of our official intercourse in all that passed, have been faithfully set forth in the preceding pages, and the reader can see for himself that there was no quarreling. When the warden told me to "bring the key back and not touch it any more," I did as required, without uttering a word. When I told him what I should do about fixing up the Maine man before sending him away, his remark was in no fault-finding tone. When he pointed out my work at first, and in our connected colloquy, all our words were civil and courteous, no unpleasantness in tone; and when he informed me on the point of the man's glasses and the sick man's flannels, I gave him no unkind answer. And where was the quarreling? Nowhere. It did not exist. He taught me my bounds after the manner he did, and I accepted them and conformed my moves thereto with not a lisp of fault-finding. He never spoke a word in disapprobation of what I was doing, but that all was agreeable to his mind. Again, where was that place of quarreling? Not in the prison between the warden and chaplain. Whenever we met, it was on the most civil terms, we invariably passing the compliments of the day.

True, we each had our notions on prison reform, he thinking that attempts in that direction are useless, that, when one has fallen into prison we can not reform him, that punishment is the great mission of the prison, and thus on; I, supposing that reform is practicable, that we should faithfully use all available means for it, and make it the paramount object of imprisoning. On the question of prison order we were exactly alike in sentiment,—perfect order, strict discipline,—though, perhaps, varying as to the ultimate results, he securing that as a deterrent to crime; I, as an important and indispensable element in reform, leading the once erring to that state of mind in which he will hate wrong and love right.

Then, as we had not a word of debate over our differing ideas, so there was no clashing in carrying them out. The warden established his line of policy, as he had a legal right, then I surveyed the ground and decided to go on with my reform efforts, so far, with respect to time and place, as I could consistently with his arrangements, at all times looking to the best prison order, and at no time to interfere with any of his moves.

This was our prison quarreling, and the whole of it; a very peaceful affair. How happy, if all quarrels were of this character! I felt assured that, though what I was endeavoring to promote in our prison was held by those at present in the ascendant as being an interloper in such an institution, and wholly out of place there, truth would at length prevail. Prudent labors, persevering efforts, patient waiting and firm trust in the great Leader, would now, as ever before, result in the triumph of the right. With such views I daily toiled in quietness, interfering with nobody around me.



44. Prison Report for '71. I had looked for a pretty free use of whitewash in this, but it goes immeasurably beyond my anticipations. I really expected to find some regard for truthfulness in the statement of facts. But, in my astonishment at reading, I would inquire, "Have I fallen into a general confusion of names? Is black indeed white?"

Let us read, p. 13,—"He [the warden] ... spends his whole time in and about the institution, not having been absent to the value of half a day since he entered upon his duties."

Thus we have it. Sum up the time spent by the warden during the year in going to the P. O., or in calls out on business, or errands, or attending meeting on the Sabbath, or journeying to New York even, and the whole does not amount to "the value of half a day." This prepares us for any statement we may find. If we admit that, we can anything.

Let us, then, look at the food question.

On page 6. we have,—"The food furnished the prisoners has been selected with more than ordinary care and great pains have been taken in having it well cooked and served. We have a regular weight from which the rations are made, and any man, wishing for more than the regular allowance, is always furnished with an extra quantity." P. 13,—"The warden is not only valuable as a disciplinarian but is economical in his management of the affairs of the prison, at the same time allowing to the prisoners liberal rations of food of the best quality, but none to waste."

This can be admitted just as easily as the quotation preceding. How rejoiced the prisoners would have been to realize the truthfulness of this assertion one short week,—"Selected with more than ordinary care!" "Regular weight!" "Liberal rations of food of the best quality!" That will do,—decaying fish, potatoes "not fit to put into the human stomach," and all.

But when the Report comes to the chaplain it uses a black wash with quite as unsparing a hand, thus, (P. 13) "But the warden has not had that sympathy and assistance from the chaplain, which should be mutually rendered to each other by officers of the prison. The chaplain, for reasons best known to himself, has not acted in harmony with the warden in the discharge of his various duties, a matter very essential to the discipline of a prison. He has on the other hand, manifested peculiarities of his own which have been very detrimental to the discipline, and, we have reason to believe, have caused some uneasiness among the prisoners, which has made it more difficult for the warden, and, in some instances, causing punishment which would otherwise have been avoided."

But let us read what the warden says (P. 9),—"In conclusion, I desire to express my thanks to all the officers connected with the institution, for the prompt, cheerful and efficient manner in which they have discharged their several duties."

The chaplain was one of those officers. What, then, shall we believe? Who tells the truth? What has become of straightforward dealing? Where is that trait once called honor among men? The reader, having fully informed himself of the real facts, will pronounce the above charge against the chaplain as unqualifiedly untrue from beginning to end.

But one says, "That first assertion must be true. The warden could not have shared your sympathy in his acts." No, that first assertion is not true. It is equally false with all the rest, that is, in the sense of the writer, which evidently is that the chaplain did not sympathize with the warden in his desires for order, and labor with him to that end. Order is the first thing to be sought in prison as everywhere else. It has my fullest sympathy and for the very purpose of helping towards it, under this warden, I voluntarily undertook what I did.

"The warden has not had that assistance from the chaplain," &c. The reader has seen the chaplain putting in a pacific word here and there, doing all he could to interest the mind in its privations, helping men keep down their angry passions, robbing the solitary of its occupants, excusing, entreating, helping to order in every way possible, and is held up in that light.

"Not acted in harmony." Not a discordant word or step is the truth.

"Manifested peculiarities of his own." Peculiarities! What were they? Honest devotion to duty and not an eye to personal popularity; most arduous toils engaged in for helping to the best interest of the prison; patient efforts for reforming and elevating the fallen. All I said or did there would come within some of these points. Were those peculiarities? What then must be the character of the prison management? If the chaplain's moves were held as peculiarities it could have been only from contrasting the animus and acts of those who ruled with his. They would hold the prisoners as so many "dumb, driven cattle;" he, as human beings, with instincts of reason to be addressed and emotions of right to be stirred; they, in all cases, would move their brute fears, threaten, scold, drive; he, a part of the time at least, would appeal to the manhood sentiments, persuade, entreat, expostulate; they would regard them as morally hopeless, to be cruelly treated, and made money of; he, as those for whom hope lives, and on whom redeeming influences should be used, and efforts made for coining from them gold purer than earth affords.

Nor are these moves of the chaplain peculiarities in many other States, if in N. H. Nor are they original with him. Other minds had brought out such ideas and pushed them somewhat widely into public acceptance, and he was only attempting to introduce something of their benign influence here.

"Detrimental to discipline." What gross darkness!

"Made it more difficult for the warden." Change "difficult" to "easy" and the truth would be told.

"Causing punishment." What an idea!

The chaplain saw the changes attempted to be brought upon the prisoners, and thought he understood something of the effects which the move would produce on their minds and the results likely to follow. He knew that to some extent he had the confidence of the men, that they were looking to him as their friend, and as working for their best good; that, therefore, he could, by carefully using his influence in a quiet, unassuming way, help slide the matters round the very sharp corner which was being turned, and thus, on the one hand, make things more endurable to the inmates, and, on the other, easier for the rulers. With an eye single to this purpose he acted, and has the satisfaction of possessing pretty clear evidence that he prevented a measure of trouble in the prison, and thus rendered the warden some aid at least, and made his task somewhat easier. Indeed, he did what he could in that direction, though with no blowing of trumpets. And, after doing all this, to be held up in this light by the agent is a pretty hard cut.

Now, one of two things is true in regard to all the quotations above made. The assertors either believed they were telling the truth or they did not. If the former be taken, if they really thought they could purchase the articles they did and from them make the best quality of food; if they really supposed the chaplain's moves were as deleterious as they represent, what does it show in regard to their judgment as fitting them for place and trust? or, if the other, what of their character as to truth and veracity? Let them take which horn of the dilemma they may choose.

One perhaps says, "The writers were so informed about the chaplain." Could that be any extenuation of their wrong? If such insinuations had been made to them, why did they not first give some intimation of it to him, thus giving him the opportunity of showing their falsity? Why did they not have the parties face to face, and thus learn the truth? But, instead of this, they published what they did, and that to the injury of an innocent man, so far as their influence could go.

But what could have impelled the assertors to such a course? The author does not pretend to know, but it looks as though the object was in this way to push the chaplain to resign, and they thus be rid of those reform efforts. Hence p. 13,—"The prison is a penal institution, and is intended for punishment, not primarily as a reformative one, as some people think." Here is, undoubtedly, the key to this raid on the chaplain. But what is its full import? These reformers fully believe that the sentence of the court must be strictly carried out, and that, too, as an element of reform. The above sentence must mean that the prisoner is put there to be punished as the State directs by its laws and courts, and, in addition, for the managers to "use him so that he will not wish to come back," or to punish him as they may choose. If the sentence means anything, it must mean that. This being the true way, let us have it so understood, and, next summer, let the legislature recognize the idea by a specific act, and then let the judge change his sentence accordingly, putting it, "Your sentence is, that you be confined at hard labor in the State Prison at Concord for —— years, and that you there be further punished at the discretion of the prison officers acting for the time being." Let this be announced to all evildoers; and, further, let the warden, agent and all, give a true account of the severity of their several punishments, to be published yearly, that the prison may thus appear as deterring to crime as possible. Away with this covering up and pretending to the best living and best usage generally, thus making the institution appear so attractive. A lady visited a friend there and returned, having been made, by the warden's palaver, perfectly reconciled to the friend's condition, remarking, "They are kept so well there, and used so kindly, that one can not feel bad at all about a friend in the prison, except from the fact that he can not have his liberty to go out as he chooses." I protest against such proceedings. But let the truth stand forth, just as it is, that the wicked may really know upon what they must depend.

Why not put out the sentiment squarely that reform moves have no place in the prison? Let us be truthful in this, too. Then dismiss the chaplain and save that expense to the State, for he can be of no use.

It is made evident that the writers would banish from prison all reform moves from this assertion, p. 13,—"We think, sometimes, the matter of reform or sympathy for the prisoners is carried so far, in attempting to reform, as to lead the prisoners to believe that they are injured persons instead of transgressors, which is, in our opinion, wrong, and has a bad tendency." Is not the writer here a little muddled? or would he hold up these reformers as so absurd a set as to think of reforming men by making them believe they are good already and really sinned against? Indeed, would not the labors of such men of straw be bad? True, the writer pretends to found his objections to the reform efforts on the fact that they are carried too far, not perhaps, feeling exactly ready, at this late day, to come out squarely against efforts to raise the fallen, and to induce the erring to become good citizens. No, but it is "carrying the matter too far." Just as though we could go too far in efforts for saving the drowning man. Away with such a sham!

This indirect charge must have been aimed at the chaplain, for he was the only prison officer, that year, who could rightly be accused of such a crime as attempting reform moves.

We are again told that Mr. P. had brought the institution to where it was "with firmness, but with kindness and a Christian spirit," which unfolds the writer's views of "kindness" and the "Christian spirit." No doubt the prisoners were just wicked enough to say, "Lord, deliver us from all such 'Christian spirit.'"

We are further assured, that Mr. P. "has accomplished wonders in this direction, for, in our view, there is now no better disciplined prison in the N. E. states."

That is a very comfortable feeling, very much more so than the emotions of some, who, going into others States, are made to blush at the taunts thrown out about our prison management, that "such things will do for you N. H. folks, for those so far on the background."

But let us turn to the financial part of the Report. Long before the document made its appearance, it had been heralded far and wide in the papers that those now running the prison had made it produce a clear gain of over five thousand dollars in nine months. Of course, making this announcement was for personal popularity. Let us look at the figures after the Report comes to hand. Number of prisoners, 85 males and 6 females. Profits reported for nine months and twenty days, $5173.51, including $396.65 paid on roofing shop. Without deducting this item, we have $5570.16 gain over the real running expenses, which, for a whole year, would amount to $6914.67. Let us compare this with the gain of the Massachusetts State Prison for '72, that Report being at hand. Its number of inmates were 543. If our 91 prisoners gained what they are represented, then 543, in that proportion, would gain $41,260.06, without considering the advantage in larger numbers. Reckoning that in, it would raise this gain to some $45,000, no doubt, the gain of Massachusetts in proportion to ours. But what was her gain? It was $14,635.23, ours being, in proportion, more than three times as much as hers, we thus leaving her all out of sight.

The writers say, p. 11, in regard to Mr. P., "His management has been perfectly satisfactory to your committee. The results of his administration are the most conclusive proofs of its efficiency." Do any wonder that the committee should be satisfied with such showing, if looking to nothing but to the dollars and cents?

But does not the announcement itself show an aggravated wrong to the prisoners, or a false representation? It must be one or the other, if not both. There is no possible way to accomplish all this by honest shrewdness in financiering and rightful treatment to the convicts. All articles of food have their market value. If really suitable for use, the value is fixed for the time being, from which no material deduction can be had. Things have their wholesale and retail prices. True, these vary more or less, from accidental causes, such as the abundance or scarcity of the article, the state of the money market, or the season of the year. Buyers, by watching these accidental influences, may purchase more or less to their advantage. And one can look to these points, and profit from them, as well as another. Prison providers, especially in large establishments, will purchase, of course, at wholesale, and those at Charlestown enjoy quite as good advantages, to say the least, for sharing in these accidentals as those at Concord; and they no doubt look out quite as shrewdly. If, however, one is willing to turn from articles fit for use, he can find those as cheap as he desires, going down from thirteen cents to three or one, if he likes.

Then this boast of great gains at our prison gives a suspicious look, to say the least. If we allow for all that cruel cutting off, previously depicted, and even more, that would not bring the accounts to what would appear probable. The agent, in purchasing legitimate articles, manifested no skill beyond others. He certainly ran behind on wood as as I happened to learn by experience. The man who furnished the prison with this, agreed to supply some for me, of the same quality and price, but failed to bring it at the time, which forced me to look elsewhere for what I needed and which I found, with no extra painstaking and at a bargain, reckoning price and quality, better by one dollar at least per cord.

But if this withholding from the prisoners what they so greatly needed and what was their just due, will not bring the accounts within the region of probability, to what source shall we look for the discrepancy? Let us examine the accounts carefully and see what we thus find. True, it is said, "Figures won't lie," but men, when disposed, may so use them as to lead wide of the truth. In our examination we find the same dealing as before pointed out. Important items of expense in running the institution are deliberately omitted in reckoning. Thus, there is the warden's salary of $1000, the chaplain's, $750, printing the Report, $121,98, appraisers', $78, amounting to $1949,98. Subtracting this from the pretended gain, $6914,67 - 1949,98, gives 4964,69. Let us see what this would be with the Charlestown number of men, $29,625,56, over two times the comparative gain at Charlestown, a very large margin to be accounted for in our withholding.

Certainly we can not afford to boast very loudly over these figures, but should rather blush. The reader should bear in mind, that the prisoners are let at both places on contract, ours at ninety cents per day, and those in Massachusetts for over one dollar, so that her prison managers enjoy an advantage over ours for rolling up gains. And when we talk of gaining more than twice as much as she, we have reason to fear that those hearing us will say, that too many of those dollars were ground out of the flesh, and blood, and sinews, and life even of the prisoners,—not a very welcome sentiment.



45. Efforts of the Prison Aid Association for legislation in favor of the prison. The Governor, in his message of '69, proposed that the prison be put under the management of a Board especially appointed to that purpose. But, instead of this, and in connection, making such other provisions for the institution as were really needed, the legislature simply passed the whole matter over into the hands of the Governor and Council, as this Board, an improvement somewhat, no doubt, over the former system, but an arrangement, which, in the views of many of our best citizens, carries with it grave objections.

The Board, thus constituted, is a changeable body, the members never remaining in office more than two years, and sometimes but one. As a result, the prison must necessarily be managed largely by the inexperienced, for the men, generally, no doubt, come to the office without having given any special attention to the subject. This is much like setting a company of untaught landsmen to navigate a ship.

Again, the prison is liable to no little changeableness in its mode of being directed, a great detriment to its welfare, unless it be from bad to good. Men will possess their varying notions, and some, though lacking a knowledge of the best prison interests, will persist in having their peculiar views put in practice, however conflicting and contradictory. It is also now liable to be left largely in the hands of the warden to be run as he wills, besides being exposed to the unfavorable effects of political party influence. Finally, the institution can receive only its part of the largely divided attention of its managers, and thereby, at times, be liable to inconvenience.

But the best interest of the prison evidently demands the control of men especially adapted to their task, men who shall form a body with all possible permanence, possess ripe experience, be free in their rule from partisan control, who shall make the institution their speciality, and manage after some fixed policy involving the most enlightened principles, principles of true reform.