DESIGN OF PENITENTIARIES IN RESPECT TO THE TREATMENT OF CONVICTS, ACCORDING TO THE VIEWS OF THE DIRECTORS OF THE CONNECTICUT STATE PRISON, WITH REMARKS.
"Upon the subject of the general treatment of the convicts, and the discipline of the institution, we would remark that the State Prison is designed to be, and emphatically is, a place of PUNISHMENT. The feelings of humanity and mistaken mercy should not be suffered to interpose, to disarm its punishment of that rigor due to justice and the violated laws of the land. While a proper regard is had to the health of its inmates, their comfort should not be so far studied as to render it a desirable residence, even to those whose condition in society is attended with the severest privations. When this becomes the case, our criminal code becomes a bounty law for crime."—Sixth Report, page 94.
This is throwing off the mask completely, and boldly declaring that "punishment," SEVERE punishment, a punishment in which there is no tincture of "humanity," is the design, and emphatically, the discipline, of that prison. The comfort of the prisoner is not to be sought in any way inconsistent with punishment without humanity. His reformation is not to be sought at all. A more unsound and disgraceful principle of penitentiary discipline, was never avowed by any similar committee in this country before; but it is the very one on which all American penitentiaries are governed. "That rigor due to Justice and the violated laws of the land!" Yes; "Justice and the violated laws," demand "rigor." It is not enough to have the sinner securely confined—he must be uncomfortable. His health must be attended to; let him live; but his cup of gall must be full and overflowing. Let him live—not for comfort, but to groan in the ear of heaven the "rigor" of "Justice" and of the "violated laws." Punishment is God's "strange work," his "strange act," but it is the common work of his creatures.
According to my views of a penitentiary, it is not unqualifiedly, a place of punishment, but a place of reformation, to be effected by the mildest means, and to be under the constant direction of humanity. Cruelty never should enter its walls. Satan was no more out of his place in Eden, than is cruelty in a place of reformation.
As to a criminal code's becoming "a bounty law for crime," when its discipline for prisons is such as to render them a desirable residence, to those who are suffering even the "severest privations" in society, that Committee need have no fears. There is no danger of any prisons ever becoming so mild as to be a desirable residence for any one. Take the purest apartment in heaven, and confine a seraph there, and the simple fact that he was a prisoner would make his home a hell. The Devil himself would prefer liberty in the world of woe, to imprisonment even in Paradise—freedom with damnation, to salvation with restraint.
THE MEANS OF EFFECTING A REFORMATION AMONG PRISONERS.
On this subject many an enthusiast has speculated, and many a fine and beautiful theory has charmed the benevolent mind. The sacred orator from the desk, inspired by the genius of his faith, and warm amidst the holy fires of the altar, has often brought the miserable tenants of the dungeon within the sympathies of his weeping hearers. Clothed with the robes of state, the philanthropist has often urged the claims of prisoners upon the consideration of councils and legislatures. For eighteen hundred years have the altar and the throne sent abroad, in tones of commiseration, the suffering and neglected condition of prisoners; but what has been the result? Prisons are as numerous as ever, and almost every season sees a new one erected. The annual volume of crimes is as huge and black as ever. The gloom of these earthly hells is undissipated by the charm of operative benevolence. And though it is two thousand years since the foundations of christianity were laid in the earth—that heavenly principle which was to say to the prisoners, "go forth,"—the notes of its rejoicing ascend in faint association with the deep-toned sigh of despair and misery, which is hourly bursting from the grated cell. Alas! for the times. But why have the benevolent and christian spirits of every age laboured in vain, and spent their strength for naught? The answer is obvious.
They have acted on a mistaken theory. They have confided in the integrity and benevolence of those to whose immediate care prisoners are committed, where nothing is more true than that prison keepers are, and ever have been, the cruelest of men. They have gone the whole round of experiment—imprisonment and hard labour, solitary confinement, transportation, stripes, cropping and branding—the whole machinery of torture and death has been put into various motion, in the ignorant hope of reforming a sinner by the sure and only means of making a devil. The science of architecture has been exhausted in experiments to construct a reformatory prison, as if the form of a cell could regenerate a vicious heart into virtue. Societies have been formed, books have been published, funds have been collected, and a "PRISON DISCIPLINE" has been put into practice, on the infatuated supposition, that a bad man can be made good by writing him a "VILLIAN" on every page that presents him to the public eye, and crushing him under a painful and torturing humiliation which would fire an angel with resentment, and make a John a Judas. Every sermon that is preached, every prayer that is made, every hymn that is sung in prisons, tells the convicts that they are sinners above all men, because they suffer such things; and it is by means like these, by audibly and impliedly thanking God that they are not like these publicans, that the ministers of mercy to prisons are labouring to reform the wicked.
Another great fault in the operations of the benevolent in favour of prisoners, is, they are objects of attention only while they are in prison. A wise physician will take care to prevent disease, and be equally careful to prevent a relapse. Not so with these physicians. They visit the patient at his sick bed for the first time, and there they remind him very graciously of the cause of his sickness, and leave him as soon as he can leave his bed. Intelligent good will embraces its objects the moment they are discovered, and never abandons them. The grand outlines of expansive and understanding benevolence are—the prevention of crime or any other misery—the comfort of the sufferer and the reformation of the criminal—and the prevention of future distress and relapse into crime. Let the pious, and virtuous, and compassionate, keep these outlines constantly in view, and never permit their efforts to relax, but increase and multiply them over every part of the ample field which the above landmarks describe.
It would be unavailing for me to propose any plan of operation in this great work. I am by far too microscopic an object in the public eye to hope for the smallest attention to any thing that I can offer. I do not, however, regret this, for I am not much enamoured with plans. The best plan would not avail any thing, without a proper spirit in the management of it, and with this, the poorest would be better than any which has yet been devised. On the spirit of prison discipline, then, I rely for success, and on this, whether they are heeded or not, I shall make a few remarks.
Those who go on errands of mercy to prisons must convince the prisoners that they are their friends, or they can do them no good; and this can be done only by being their friends. When they shall have accomplished this—when the prisoners feel that they have found friends, they will become better. With this lever, the hardest heart can be turned. Goodness finds a worshipper in the wickedest heart, and no sooner is it perceived in the holiness of its nature and the benevolence of its exercise, than the heart instinctively does it reverence and receives its impression.
The first thing then for a minister of reformation to prisons to do, is, to be good and feel a love for the sinner; and the next is, to make this goodness and love apparent by long and steady perseverance in acts of mercy.
The fact that goodness will beget its likeness in all minds that experience and perceive its effects, is taught plainly in the Scriptures. "We love God because he first loved us."—"The goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance."—"He to whom much is forgiven, the same loveth much." The song of saints in heaven is grounded on the personal benefits they have received from Christ. Christians are exhorted by the mercies of Christ to live holy and godly lives. And the Psalmist says, that they that know the name of the Lord, will put their trust in him.
The truth of these principles has been practically demonstrated by those who have been humanely and charitably conversant with the suffering poor. It has not been the benefaction, that has bound them to the hearts of the distressed, but the spirit of mild, heavenly, sympathetic, unassuming, and unaffected condescension, with which they have personally and perseveringly ministered to their wants. Not the value of the gift, but the manner and spirit of it, has converted the recipient into gratitude. All experience proves this.
"But beside the degree of purity in which this principle may exist among the most destitute of our species, it is also of importance to remark the degree of strength, in which it actually exists among the most depraved of our species. And, on this subject, do we think that the venerable Howard has bequeathed to us a most striking and valuable observation. You know the history of this man's enterprises, how his doings, and his observations, were among the veriest outcasts of humanity,—how he descended into prison houses, and there made himself familiar with all that could most revolt or terrify, in the exhibition of our fallen nature; how, for this purpose, he made the tour of Europe; but instead of walking in the footsteps of other travellers, he toiled his painful and persevering way through these receptacles of worthlessness;—and sound experimentalist as he was, did he treasure up the phenomena of our nature, throughout all the stages of misfortune, or depravity. We may well conceive the scenes of moral desolation that would often meet his eye; and that, as he looked to the hard and dauntless, and defying aspect of criminality before him, he would sicken in despair of ever finding one remnant of a purer and better principle, by which he might lay hold of these unhappy men, and convert them into the willing and the consenting agents of their own amelioration. And yet such a principle he found, and found it, he tells us, after years of intercourse, as the fruit of his greater experience, and his longer observation; and gives, as the result of it, that convicts, and that, among the most desperate of them all, are not ungovernable, and that there is a way of managing even them, and that the way is, without relaxing in one iota, from the steadiness of a calm and resolute discipline, to treat them with tenderness, and show them that you have humanity; and thus a principle, of itself so beautiful, that to expatiate upon it, gives in the eyes of some, an air of fantastic declamation to our argument, is actually deponed to, by an aged and most sagacious observer. It is the very principle of our text, and it would appear that it keeps a lingering hold of our nature, even in the last and lowest degrees of human wickedness; and that when abandoned by every other principle, this may still be detected,—that even among the most hackneyed and most hardened of malefactors, there is still about them a softer part, which will give way to the demonstrations of tenderness: that this one ingredient of a better character is still found to survive the dissipation of all others;—that, fallen as a brother may be, from the moralities which at one time adorned him, the manifested good-will of his fellow man still carries a charm and an influence along with it; and that, therefore, there lies in this an operation which, as no poverty can vitiate, so no depravity can extinguish.
"Now, this is the very principle which is brought into action, in the dealings of God with a whole world of malefactors. It looks as if he confided the whole cause of our recovery to the influence of a demonstration of good will. It is truly interesting to mark, what, in the devisings of his unsearchable wisdom, is the character which has made to stand most visibly out, in the great scheme and history of our redemption; and surely, if there be one feature of prominency more visible than another, it is the love of kindness. There appears to be no other possible way, by which a responding affection can be deposited in the heart of man. Certain it is, that the law of love cannot be carried to its ascendency over us by storm. Authority cannot command it. Strength cannot implant it. Terror cannot charm it into existence. The threatenings of vengeance may stifle, or they may repel, but they never can woo this delicate principle of our nature into a warm and confiding attachment. The human heart remains shut, in all its receptacles, against the force of all these applications; and God who knew what was in man, seems to have known, that in his dark and guilty bosom, there was but one solitary hold that he had over him, and that to reach it, he must just put on a look of graciousness; and tell us that he has no pleasure in our death, and manifest towards us the longings of a bereaved parent, and even humble himself to a suppliant in the cause of our return, and send a gospel of peace into the world, and bid his messengers to bear throughout all its habitations, the tidings of his good will to the children of men. This is the topic of his most anxious and repeated demonstrations. This manifested good will of God to his creatures, is the band of love, and the cord of a man, by which he draws them; and this one mighty principle of attraction is brought to bear upon a nature, that might have remained sullen and unmoved under any other application."—Thomas Chalmers, D. D.
The principle so eloquently and correctly stated in the above quotations from Dr. Chalmers, is fully demonstrated and exemplified by the philanthropic efforts of Mrs. Elizabeth Fry in the famous prison of Newgate, in England, an account of which is here presented to the reader. It was written by Madame Adile De Thou, but I have copied it from the Ladies' Magazine.
"Mrs. Fry, on being informed of the deplorable state of the female prisoners in Newgate, resolved to relieve them. She applied to the governor for leave of admittance; he replied that she would incur the greatest risk in visiting that abode of iniquity and disorder, which he himself scarcely dared to enter. He observed, that the language she must hear would inevitably disgust her, and made use of every argument to prevail on her to relinquish her intention.
Mrs. Fry said that she was fully aware of the danger to which she exposed herself; and repeated her solicitations for permission to enter the prison. The governor advised her not to carry in with her either her purse or her watch. Mrs. Fry replied, "I thank you, I am not afraid: I don't think I shall lose any thing."
She was shown into an apartment of the prison which contained about one hundred and sixty women; those who were condemned, and those who had not been tried, were all suffered to associate together. The children who were brought up in this school of vice, and who never spoke without an oath, added to the horror of the picture. The prisoners ate, cooked their food, and slept all in the same room. It might truly be said, that Newgate resembled a den of savages.
Mrs. Fry was not discouraged. The grace of God is infinite, the true christian never despairs. In spite of a very delicate state of health, she persevered in her pious design. The women listened to her, and gazed on her with amazement; the pure and tranquil expression of her beautiful countenance speedily softened their ferocity. It has been remarked, that if virtue could be rendered visible, it would be impossible to resist its influence; and thus may be explained the extraordinary ascendency which Mrs. Fry exercises over all whom she approaches. Virtue has indeed become visible, and has assumed the form of this benevolent lady, who is the guide and consolation of her fellow-creatures.
Mrs. Fry addressed herself to the prisoners;—"You seem unhappy," said she. "You are in want of clothes; would you not be pleased if some one came to relieve your misery?"
"Certainly," replied they, "but nobody cares for us, and where can we expect to find a friend?"
"I am come with a wish to serve you," resumed Elizabeth Fry, "and I think if you will second my endeavours, I may be of use to you."
She addressed to them the language of peace, and afforded them a glimmering of hope. She spoke NOT OF THEIR CRIMES; the minister of an all-merciful God, she came there to comfort and to pray, not to judge and condemn. When she was about to depart, the women thronged around her as if to detain her. "You will never come again," said they. But she who never broke her word promised to return.
She soon paid a second visit to this loathsome jail, where she intended to pass the whole day; the doors were closed upon her, and she was left alone with the prisoners.
"You cannot suppose," said she, addressing them, "that I have come here without being commissioned. This book—she held the Bible in her hand—which has been the guide of my life, has led me to you. It directed me to visit the prisoners, and take pity on the poor and the afflicted. I am willing to do all that lies in my power: but my efforts will be vain, unless met and aided by you."
She then asked them whether they would not like to hear her read a few passages from that book. They replied they would. Mrs. Fry selected the parable of the lord of the vineyard, and when she came to the man who was hired at the eleventh hour, she said; "Now the eleventh hour strikes for you; the greater part of your lives is lost, but Christ is come to save sinners!"
Some asked who Christ was; others said he had not come for them; that the time was past, and that they could not be saved. Mrs. Fry replied that Christ had suffered, that he had been poor, and that he had come to save the poor and the afflicted in particular.
Mrs. Fry obtained permission to assemble the children in a school established in the prison, for the purpose of promoting their religious instruction. The female prisoners, in spite of their profligate and vicious habits, joyfully embraced the opportunity of ameliorating the condition of their children. Much was already effected by restoring these women to the first sentiments of nature; namely, maternal affection.
A woman denominated the matron, was entrusted with the control of the prisoners, under the superintendence of the ladies of the Society of Friends, composing the Newgate Committee.
Mrs. Fry having drawn up a set of rules of conduct for the prisoners, a day was fixed on, and the lord Mayor and one of the aldermen being present, she read aloud the articles, and asked the prisoners whether they were willing to adopt them; they were directed to raise their hands as a sign of approval. This constitution was unanimously adopted; so sincere were the sentiments of respect and confidence she had inspired.
Thanks to her perseverance and the years she has devoted to her pious undertaking, a total change has been effected in Newgate prison; the influence of virtue has softened the horrors of vice, and Newgate has become the asylum of repentance.
Strangers are permitted to visit the jail on Thursday, when Mrs. Fry reads and explains passages of the Bible to the prisoners. Her voice is extremely fascinating; its pure, clear tones are admirably calculated to plead the cause of virtue and humanity.
The late queen expressed a wish to see Mrs. Fry, and in the most flattering terms testified the admiration she felt for her conduct. The thanks of the city of London were voted to her; and, in short, there is not an Englishman who does not bless her name."
How worthy of all admiration is such conduct in a female! But if the principle which Dr. Chalmers has stated with so much beauty and force, and which has been so fully and delightfully exemplified by the seraphic spirits of a Howard and a Fry, is correct, how humbling to the christian community are the inferences which follow.
Why are our prisons such scenes of cruelty and such schools of crime? Because christian churches and christian individuals are destitute of the practical good will, and the expansive benevolence of the gospel of Christ. When christians begin to act on the principles of their profession, prisons will begin to grow pure; and when all christians fully perform their solemn duties to the erring and the wretched, prison walls and prison vices will be no more. In a purified society they cannot exist; and the degraded condition of the prisoners in our country, and the rapid increase of their numbers, are sure indications of the want of piety and godliness in the land.
I might spin out remarks to an indefinite length, but it would be to no useful purpose. I can weep over the evils which I am unable to cure. I do not expect any great improvement in our prisons, till I see great reformations out of them. From the society of the free all our prisoners are taken, and till that society is purified it will continue to furnish its annual victims to the penitentiary; but when that is done, the fetters and dungeons of the captive will crumble to dust, and the improvement of prisoners will be simultaneous with the reformation of the free. These two classes act and react upon each other, and they must ultimately wear the same moral complexion. If vice is to triumph over virtue, then all will be just fit for a dungeon; but if virtue is to become universal, then will the bond and the free be equal sharers in the bliss. But as the prey is to be taken from the mighty, and as all flesh is to see the salvation of the Lord, I am sure that "in the dispensation of the fulness of times," the vices and crimes of prisoners will cease, and the voice of the oppressors be heard no more.