Recollections of Windsor Prison; / Containing Sketches of its History and Discipline, with Appropriate Strictures and Moral and Religious Reflection

by of Vermont John Reynolds

OPPOSITION OF THE KEEPERS TO HAVING PREACHING IN THE PRISON.

Nothing can more strikingly demonstrate the opposition of the keepers to the means of grace in the prison, than the fact that twenty years after its foundation, nothing like a Sabbath school or Bible class, had ever been introduced—and that at no time had there been more than one short sermon in a week, and sometimes only one or two in the course of a year. Nor is it any to their credit as professors, that though there had always been men in the prison, who were fully qualified and desired to sing in meeting, not a solitary hymn were they permitted to sing in the chapel, till after the prison had been erected more than twelve years. The spirit of piety at one time reigned long enough to see a neat and very convenient chapel erected for the worship of God, but scarcely had the dust fallen on its seats, before it was converted into a place of daily labor, and the altar of religious worship set up in a cellar!

The captives began now to weep and hang their harps on the willows. No priest stood up to minister in holy things—the waters of life were shut out, and the last dying blaze went out on the altar. The triumph of Satan was now complete, and long did he hold his conquest in undisturbed and sullen peace. Those who have known what it is to sigh in vain for the ordinances of God's house, and pray and wait in vain to behold the face of him who publisheth salvation, can sympathize with the weeping prisoners, during the long "dark age" that followed. They bowed in submission to the calamity they could not avoid, but strove by every consistent and available means, to bring the long misery to an end. Like Michael and his angels fighting with the dragon and his angels, this conflict between the powers of light and darkness was long and painful, but finally triumphant.

The prisoners, at first, humbly petitioned the officers to let them have the benefit of preaching as they had done in times past. At first the justice of their plea was acknowledged, but the difficulty was, that no preacher could be obtained. The officers said, that they had tried every where within proper distance of the prison, but could not get a single preacher to visit that place, and do the duty of Chaplain.

This it was thought would set the business at rest, but it did not. The government of the state had made provision for preaching, and the officers were respectfully informed, that the prisoners could not be deprived of it, while half a dozen preachers were within a few miles, and three within a few rods; and their petition was always on the table when the authority could be approached. The strong plea of right, and law, and scripture was used, and the important fact kept in view, that if they had the means of grace at all, they must be brought to them, as they could not go where they were. All this was granted, but the same plea was eternally thrown over them all—"We can't get any body."

If they actually applied to the ministers, and could not prevail on them to attend, then the blame must fall on their heads. But did they? Rather did they not destroy the chapel to prevent their coming? And were they always admitted when they did come? Answer, you that can.

At length, one of the principal officers, and a very sanguine professor and church member, took a different stand and said in so many words—"PREACHING WILL DO NO GOOD HERE." Confounded to hear such language from such a source, and astonished to see the mask so fully thrown off, the prisoner who heard the expression, argued the officer out of his position, and sent him away penitently exclaiming—"O yes, it will do good, it will do good."

At another time, when this same man had been meeting the pleas of the prisoners for preaching by the old excuse—"I can't get any body"—one of them said to him, if he would permit him to make one trial, successful or unsuccessful, he would trouble him no more about preaching. Permit me, said he, to write an account of the destitution of the prison in respect to preaching, and the reasons of it, as you have assigned them, and send it to a Missionary Society in Boston, and I will never open my mouth again on this subject to you. "If that were necessary," said the officer, "I could do it myself." "Then," replied the prisoner, "I take it for granted, that you do not consider it necessary for us to have preaching."

Frustrated in all their efforts to obtain a Chaplain, the prisoners tried another experiment; they applied to the "powers that were" for permission to have some christian man, from without, come in on the Lord's day and read a sermon. In this they anticipated success, but met disappointment. It was every way reasonable and pious, and good might have grown out of it; but, alas for the piety of somebody, no good man could be found to go up to the help of the Lord against the mighty. Is it to be supposed that there was not ONE man in the pious village of Windsor, who would have delighted to perform that office of kindness and love to his fellow men? The question must be settled between the men of that village and the officer who brought the charge against them.

Undespairing yet, another course was suggested, and the prisoners petitioned to be allowed to meet in the chapel on the Sabbath, and conduct meeting themselves, by praying and singing, and reading a sermon. To this, as they promised to find all their own books, it was thought there could no objection be made. But the human heart is prodigiously fertile in excuses for what it does not like to perform, and one was easily found to bar this petition. It was this. Christianity, blush for thy votaries.—"IT WILL NOT LOOK WELL TO SEE A PRISONER PRAY IN PUBLIC!!" I hope the Gentleman will remember this when he thinks of death and heaven. Praying was then struck out of the petition, but it was equally improper for a prisoner to read or sing in public. Invention was now exhausted, and the case was given up. But to cap the climax, one of the keepers said that he would read a sermon on the Sabbath, if another one would pray.

The keeper who offered to read a sermon, was by no means a pattern of piety. Lucifer and he would be alike in or out of their places any where. But he took on him the office of priest for once, and assembled the prisoners in the chapel on the Sabbath, and went into the desk, and read part of a sermon. There was no praying, for the one who had engaged to do that duty had fallen back, and this one did not know how. The next Sabbath he finished the sermon, and resigned the priesthood.

To suffer such indignity was truly painful. It was enough to be denied every religious favor year after year, without having religion and all that the soul holds dear, thus openly and outrageously profaned and scoffed at; and the petitions which had been so often made, trampled under foot with such a sacrilegious sneer. This was the sole design of the officer in reading as he did. He had distanced the patience and invention of those who desired "to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple;" and now he must insult their disappointed hope. His tongue was the organ of profanity; with him religion was a fable; and with one deliberate act to pollute the altar, and insult the worshippers of God, he took the place of holy men, and drank his licentious draught from a consecrated bowl. Why did not the fingers appear, and trace his doom upon the wall?

One reason for this opposition to the introduction of the means of grace into the prison, probably, was the hatred which the keepers had to the holiness and purity of the gospel. I speak this with limitation, for there were always some who delighted in mercy, and who spoke well of religion. But the majority of the head ones were always with the priests of Baal.

Another reason was the expense. Every dime weighs something in the scale of their monied calculations, and every cent must be placed in the treasury. This did not directly enrich any of the officers, but it did indirectly; it gave them the reputation of managing well for the state, and secured their re-election, with all its advantages. This was enough. "Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul." Personal advantage is consulted at the expense of all others.

But the most important reason was, the keepers could not attend to it. Sunday is a day of relaxation, and they wanted to rove at large, and take the air. Confined all the week, they wanted to have their liberty on the Sabbath. And as the meeting could not be attended to unless they were present, they were as much opposed to it, as the prisoners were anxious for it.

They had now silenced every mouth, and were enjoying their triumph with much satisfaction. But the efforts to obtain for the prisoners what the law allowed them, though unobserved, were not dead nor sleeping. There was a higher authority than that of the prison, and arrangements were making to address a petition to the majesty of the public. To do this was perilous for the individual who should attempt it, and be found out; but magnanimity in a good cause is no crime. This noble spirit nerved the soul of one of the prisoners, and forgetting himself to serve his fellows, he wrote a piece for publication in one of the papers, and found a friend to convey it to the printer. This piece contained a brief history of the means of grace in the prison, of the ruin of the chapel, and of the fruitless efforts which had been made with the keepers; and concluded with a firm appeal to the people and the authorities in behalf of the prisoners.

This was printed in due time, and the effect was immediately visible in the prison. A Chaplain was found, and meetings were held every Sabbath, and no more occasion for complaint occurred.

This sketch presents the moral discipline of the prison in its true light. Jehovah is not the God of that Institution, but Mammon. The souls of the prisoners are not of so much value in the estimation of the keepers, as one hour of their labor. To the chink of their Idol's box they give most rapacious ears, and love no music half so well. Time and eternity, heaven and hell, peace and affliction, smiles and tears, life and death, are all lost sight of in the arithmetical liturgy of Mammon's worship. In their estimation the most pious prisoner is he who weaves the most cloth, and no organ has half so religious tones as the clack of a loom. The prisoner's Draft-book is his only Bible, and he is the most thorough and pious christian, who can weave the handsomest piece of diaper in the shortest time. I do not mean to treat the subject with lightness; it is too solemn; and I mean to be understood as being in solemn and emphatic earnest. These things are so, and I have witnesses of their truth among the living and the dead. From such a place then, who could hope to see a man go forth reformed, except from bad to worse?