A Quaker, Mr. Vaux, is at the head of several public institutions in Philadelphia. I was introduced to him by Mr. Eddy: he received me kindly, although using the appellation “thou,”[I.21] and promised to show me these institutions. The first objects we saw in his house, were paintings and copperplates referring to the first settlement of the Quakers in this state, and a model of a monument which is intended to be erected to the memory of William Penn. The model represented an obelisk, and was made of part of the elm tree under which this great benefactor of mankind concluded his treaty with the Indians.[I.22] After that we drove to the new penitentiary, a prison which was built near the water-works.
Efforts have been made to abolish capital punishment in Pennsylvania, and to substitute solitary confinement, which hitherto has only been occasionally resorted to in the prisons, for offences committed there; it is even intended to inflict this punishment for life. It is also wished to separate prisoners condemned to hard labour, to give them their tasks in separate cells. For this purpose, a large square yard has been walled in, each side of which is six hundred and fifty feet long. This yard has but one entrance, over which is erected a Gothic building, to accommodate the officers, offices, watchrooms, and hospital wards. The portal has very much the appearance and strength of the gate of a fortification. In the middle of this yard is a round tower, which is intended for the watchmen, and from this central point, six wings run in an eccentric direction, containing the cells. Each wing consists of a vaulted corridor, which runs from one end of the wing to the other; on both sides of each of the six corridors are nineteen cells, whose entrance is from the outside. There is an opening in every cell, leading into the vaulted corridor, merely large enough to admit provisions; this aperture has a small iron door attached to it, only to be opened from the corridor. To every cell there is a yard, sixteen feet long and seven feet broad, surrounded by a wall twenty feet high: in this yard leading to the cell, the prisoner has the liberty of walking, provided the prisoners in the next cells are locked up. The cell itself is eight feet long and five feet broad, its entrance is low and small, and secured by a door and grate. The floor of the cell is of boards, the roof an arch which inclines outwardly, that the rain may run from it: a patent glass gives light to the prisoner. There are small apertures in the walls, in order to admit a current of air, and others to admit heated air during winter. Every cell has a water-closet, which is connected with the principal pipe, under the corridor, throughout all the length of the wings. They are not yet quite decided in what manner the prisoner is to sleep, whether in a bedstead or on a hammock.
I do not now wish to enter upon the question whether it is advisable to abolish capital punishment altogether or not, but I maintain that this solitary confinement, in which the prisoner is prohibited from all human converse, without work, exercise, and almost without fresh air, is even worse than punishment by death. From want of exercise they will certainly become sickly; from the want of work they will become unaccustomed to labour, and perhaps lose what skill they may have possessed heretofore in their trades, so that when restored to the world, they will be useless for any kind of business, and merely drag out a miserable existence. No book is allowed them but the bible. It appears therefore to me perfectly possible, that this insulation of the prisoner will be injurious to his mind, and drive him to fanaticism, enthusiasm, and even derangement. When Mr. Vaux asked my opinion of this prison, I could not refrain from answering him that it reminded me of the Spanish inquisition, as described by Llorente. Mr. Vaux answered that it is only an experiment to ascertain whether capital punishment can be abolished; but notwithstanding this philanthropic view, the experiment appears to me to be an expensive one, because the building has already cost three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and the state of Pennsylvania will have to expend annually for its support, an immense sum. The first great object of a government ought to be to provide for the welfare of its good citizens, and not to oppress them with taxes; on the contrary, to relieve them as much as possible, as it is hard for the good citizens to have to maintain vagabonds, for the sake of deterring others by example, or to render convicts harmless. In this view it should be the object of the government to arrange the prisons so that convicts can maintain themselves. When once this is realized, then it is likewise easier to improve their moral principles. Continued employment would answer both purposes. If it be possible that the prisoner can earn a little surplus money, in order that when he returns to society he may be in possession of a small sum for his pressing necessities, I believe it would be much better than any philanthropic experiment.[I.23]
The county jail contains prisoners who are waiting for trial; they are, however, seldom confined longer than one month before they receive sentence. The house consists of a principal building and two wings; the one for males, the other for females. In the centre building are the offices, dwellings of the keepers and watch, as well as the infirmary, where the patients have good bedding, and are carefully nursed. In the wings are long corridors, with rooms on each side, which are closed during the night with iron doors. About eight prisoners sleep in one room, they sleep on the floor, and have only two blankets, to sleep upon and cover themselves. The floor is of boards, and I was delighted at the great cleanliness prevailing through the whole house. At the end of each wing is a yard where the prisoners walk, and in each yard there is a shed under which they work. The men I found busy pulling horse-hair, and most of the females at their usual domestic occupations. Even here we perceived the great distinction between the white and coloured races.
The number of female prisoners of both colours was nearly equal, and the coloured were not permitted to sit on the same bench with the white; the coloured were separated to the left! I procured a sight of the register, and was astonished to see that in this free country a magistrate has the right to imprison a person for two days, for cursing in the streets, as I found in the book. There are also in the county jail several cells for solitary confinement, narrow dark holes, in which it must be insupportably hot during the summer. Those who are of savage behaviour are confined in these cells, and kept there till they become civil.
Of the charitable institutions, we visited first, the Orphan Asylum, and then the hospital for widows, which stand near each other. They owe their origin to the donation of a lady, which has been increased by voluntary contributions, and is now under the direction of a board of ladies, mostly Friends, who are aided by the advice of a few select gentlemen. In the Orphan Asylum were ninety children of both sexes, who remain till they are twelve years of age, and are then bound out to learn a trade. They are educated in the same way as the orphans at New York. During the hours of recess, the children run about in a garden; the house is very cleanly, the bed-rooms are spacious, and each contain twenty beds; nevertheless, two children have to sleep in one bed.
Some years ago, the house caught fire, and the conflagration was so rapid that more than thirty children perished in the flames. In rebuilding the house, they had the praiseworthy consideration to banish wood entirely from the building, and even the stairs are of stone. The Widow’s Asylum is tenanted by helpless widows, over which the above-mentioned board also have control. They are boarded, clothed, and nursed as long as they live. The rooms are occupied by one or two persons each, and there is a common sitting and eating room. In this establishment great cleanliness is also observable.
The large and celebrated hospital of Philadelphia was established by the Quakers, and is under their direction. It owes its origin to voluntary contributions and posthumous donations. It is surrounded by a garden, and consists of a main building with two wings, besides other separate buildings, one of which is used for incurable lunatics, another for venereal patients, and others for household purposes and stables; for they here keep carriages, in which the convalescents ride when it is allowed. Behind the principal building is a kitchen garden, with a hot-house that contains many exotic plants. A particular building has been erected for the painting of Sir Benjamin West, who was a native of Philadelphia, and presented it to the hospital. The subject of the painting is Christ healing the sick. Neither the composition nor the execution of this painting appear to me to be successful; and perhaps it is only here, where they are unaccustomed to see great and well executed paintings, that this could excite such astonishing admiration as it has done.[I.24] It is really singular that near this painting, which certainly has some merit, they should hang a little picture, accidentally discovered in the city, which was daubed as a first essay by the same artist, when young.
The hospital is three stories high; in the lower story are the offices, the apothecary, the rooms of two physicians, one of whom must always be in the house, and the library, which contains a very handsome collection of books on medicine and natural history. As a sort of antiquity, they show here William Penn’s arm-chair; a leaden statue, made in England, of this eminent man, of full size and in the Quaker dress, stands in the square in front of the house. Corridors run through both wings, and thence you enter the rooms, each containing twelve patients; they are under the care of female nurses, and lay on wooden bedsteads; only the maniacs have them of iron. Throughout this house extraordinary cleanliness is observed. To the melancholy, every species of employment is permitted, provided it does not interfere with their own safety or that of other patients. Some worked in the garden, two were occupied as cabinet-makers, and a lock-maker from Darmstadt was engaged two years in making a musket, for which he has prepared a colossal lock of wire and tin.
When I returned from this remarkable institution, I received a visit from a literary gentleman from Leipzic, Mr. Rivinus. This young man had already been two years in this city, collecting observations on America, to make known in Germany. I was much interested by him. He appeared to me well suited to gather information concerning the new world and to present it to the old; perhaps he may contribute to make German literature known to the Americans.