No instance came under my observation where the offense was repeated, after a prisoner had been admonished.
After quiet was restored, I sat down to think, and rest. I was tired of the ceaseless surveillance, the turning of keys, the grating of bars, the driving of the prisoners at their tasks, the compelling to pleasant manners while under such severe exactions of toil.
I sat thinking it over and asking myself if it would be possible for me, driven, urged to work with no alternative but the solitary cell, and the bread and water diet, with no motive but fear of punishment, to be gentle and patient.
The exhausted flesh and the wearied spirit would express their agony in some form of complaint. Human nature might restrain its indignation at such a dreary lot from breaking forth, in fear of a greater punishment. The prisoner might work on in silence till she fell, and was carried to the Hospital. I was told that it had been so, and I could not doubt it.
My orders verified the statement. I was to keep them at work. If they complained they were to see the Doctor, and he was to decide whether they were unfit for labor. In that case they were to go into the Hospital.
I had asked, "Shall their whole task be exacted of them?"
"Yes,—if you listen to their complaints, they will all play sick, and we shall get no work done."
I had said, "They might do something, and by not being driven so hard, made useful, and their health spared."
"We have no such rules," was the reply.
"But any Matron, after she is acquainted with her women, can judge so that they will not impose upon her very much."