THE PENITENTIARY.
The large pile of buildings which forms such a prominent object on Blackwell's Island, known as the Penitentiary, is familiar to most of the residents of New York City, though the every day life of its inmates is practically known only to that class to which they immediately belong.
The Penitentiary, which is under the wardenship of Mr. Fitch, is capable of accommodating about seven hundred and fifty prisoners, but at present their numbers are slightly under five hundred—about three hundred men, and ninety women. The prisoners are divided into classes, the particular dress of each indicating the nature and gravity of their offences, and though amenable to the same laws as to labor and discipline, they work in separate gangs and mess by themselves. They are under the control of twenty-four keepers, each keeper, who is heavily armed, having fifteen men in his charge, whose roll he calls, and for whose absence he is responsible. At six o'clock the prisoners are all paraded to call the roll, at half-past six they have breakfast, consisting of dry bread and a bowl of coffee, and at seven, those who are skilled workmen are told off to the blacksmiths', carpenters', tailors', and weavers' shops, where all necessary repairs to the building and its fittings are done, and the clothing for the prisoners is made; others to labor in the gardens and fields, while the remainder are marched off in two divisions, one to work in the stone quarries at home, the others to be conveyed by the Commissioners' steam vessel Bellevue to the quarries on Ward's Island. The female prisoners are principally occupied in the sewing-room, in the brush-manufactory, in washing clothes, and scrubbing out the cells.
The majority of the prisoners are committed for assault and battery or larceny, for terms varying from one month to four years and a half; those committed for graver offences are confined at Sing Sing; all drunkards, vagrants, and disorderly characters at the workhouse. During the past year two thousand three hundred and fifteen persons were incarcerated for different periods—two thousand one hundred and thirty-nine whites, one hundred and seventy-six blacks. Of these about one third were native Americans, one third Irish, one tenth German, and the remainder of various nationalities. The visitor to the Penitentiary cannot but be struck by the youth of the male prisoners compared with that of the females, the bulk of the males being between fourteen and thirty years of age, the females between twenty-five and fifty. Few young girls find their way here, as in their earlier career they are able to gain enough by a life of prostitution, without committing larceny, and consequently do not resort to it till their charms begin to wear, and the consequent diminution of their means of subsistence from such a source compels them to resort to some other. There is another fact which appears in these statistics of crime, one highly suggestive to the housekeeper. Of the four hundred and eleven female prisoners committed during the past year, no less than three hundred and two were domestic servants, and of these two hundred and forty-one were Irish girls and women.
At twelve o'clock the prison bell rings for dinner. It is a sad sight to stand on the terrace and see the various gangs of men and lads march home from their work, the greater proportion of them fine, sturdy looking young fellows; it is sadder still to see some of them carrying a heavy iron ball and chain slung over the shoulder and attached to a strong iron band locked round the leg immediately above the ankle. These men have tried to escape. Necessary as it may be to adopt such measures to prevent them from repeating the attempt, surely it is unnecessarily cruel to compel these poor creatures to wear their irons at night. Their dinner consists of a can of soup, a plate of meat, and ten ounces of bread. They are allowed one hour, and are then marched back again to their work in the quarries; they have supper, bread and coffee, at five o'clock, and at half-past five they are all locked in their cells, which, though scrupulously clean, are certainly too small (about the size of an ordinary clothes closet), considering that the prisoners have to pass twelve hours out of the twenty-four in them.
On Sunday the sewing-room of the female prisoners is used as a Chapel, the men attending services in the morning, the women in the afternoon; once a month there is service for the Roman Catholic prisoners. The convicts have no privileges; a sharp, intelligent lad may become a hall boy or get employed in the mess room; or a mechanic may be appointed to one of the workshops and so gain some slight relief from the monotony of their lives; but they get no reward, beyond a little tobacco once a week for chewing; smoking is strictly prohibited; once a month they are allowed to be visited by their friends. On entering the building the visitor is forcibly struck by the following inscription over the doorway.
'The way of the transgressor is hard.'
'Such is the greeting to the unfortunate criminal as he puts his foot, often for the first time, within the prison walls. If an inscription be necessary, surely the Department of Public Charities and Correction might have chosen one less harsh in character; one that breathes a larger amount of Christian charity to a poor fellow creature, one that may offer him some small portion of that encouragement which is so essential to his reformation. Some such epigram as 'it is never too late to mend' would be altogether more suitable and far more encouraging.