The lawyer presented the written statements of the released prisoner, referring to the death, the cold, food matters, &c., at the prison, but this was summarily swept from the board by the testimony of the steward: "There is not a word of truth in his statement." I happened to know personally, then, that some of the points in that statement were true, and what I did not know myself agreed exactly with the general testimony of the men leaving prison. But I was not referred to on the point and thus that testimony was useless. The affidavit from the overseer, I think, was not presented.
At about two o'clock at night, the hearing was adjourned until the next Monday evening, after which I arranged with the Governor to see him Monday, P. M. I saw the letters referred to, which contained the grossest misrepresentations, uttering sentiments I never thought of, or, if I had, should not have expressed there, unless demented.
I went home with a strong conviction that efforts were being made, by whom I knew not, to turn the whole force of thought upon me and make of me a scape goat in the matter. I retired, but not to shut my eyes in sleep for the night. For a time my mind remained in confusion about those lectures, but after resting awhile, and the excitement had passed off, all came clearly to view, as given on a former page.
28. Preparing for the adjourned session. Saturday morning I wrote to a few understanding and reliable gentlemen, who heard the lectures in question, alluded to the letters and their allegations, and by return mail received answers, asserting that, as nearly as they understood, and by inquiry from others who heard, no such ideas were received as charged in the missives, giving some ideas that were uttered, a very different sentiment from the letters, and what no one could censure. That day, I met the writer of one of those letters in the city, and to my inquiry, he replied, "Oh, I did not hear the lecture, or know anything about what was said, personally; but my son was present, and gave me what information I had." I could but think, "A bright son that!"
In the afternoon, I called on the Governor as appointed, and found him very much excited over the matter. He talked almost incessantly for a long time, but occasionally giving me opportunity for putting in a word. I attempted to assure him that he was laboring under a great mistake about my acts at the prison, that I had not been guilty of anything he had in mind, and that he must have been misinformed. But my assurances seemed to carry but little weight. He finally said, "Mr. Quinby, your management at the prison has caused me more trouble and anxiety than all my State business put together." I was perfectly astonished. There were my incessant and most arduous labors for peace and quietness in the institution, my great painstaking, with the sole view of leading the prisoners to do right in every respect, with never a hint from me, to a prisoner, of disapprobation of any prison officer or his acts,—with never a word of dispute between any of us as officers, besides my careful observance of all the prison rules to the letter, as I understood them, to which I had ever felt impelled by a sense of duty, and on which, for a long while, I had felt the importance of double and thribble care. How could my management in these things cause the Governor such trouble and anxiety? The truth now flashed in mind, that setting the guards and overseers to watch me, had its purpose. Then, there must have been a long and persistent course of running to his Excellency with a tissue of misrepresentations. Had it really befallen me as it befel the man going down from Jerusalem to Jericho? Things certainly looked in that direction, and perhaps it was nothing more than might have been anticipated; for, if one would persistently slander innocent ladies, it would be natural for him to misrepresent me. If, at every opportunity, he would defame the character of another, could I rationally suppose that mine would be any safer in his hands?
Having left the Governor with the settled conviction that my days of incessant prison toil were virtually ended, a gentleman of influence in the place, rode up to me in haste, with the remark, "Step aboard, Mr. Quinby, you must have legal counsel in these matters. A combination is formed to crush you, and the really guilty go free. I have volunteered to engage such lawyers, and they wish to see you at once to learn the true state of things and how to take hold of the case." Though I insisted that it would be of no avail, he gave no heed to that, and soon landed me at the proposed office door. I related, in brief, the general facts as they had occurred, and the interview just had with the Governor, to which the eldest of the number replied, "Your case is a foregone conclusion. It is already decided. You can not do a thing." But another proposed to consult with the attorney already in the work, and arrange as thought advisable.
Returning home, I found a friend waiting to inform me of the proffered service of still another lawyer. Thus friends were aroused and clustered around ready to help, as I had not anticipated. No little excitement prevailed in the place.
29. The adjourned hearing. I went to this with ideas clear, thoughts collected, mind pretty thoroughly aroused, and feeling ready to attempt a vindication of the right. Being again called on first, I commenced, referred to the assertion that I made the previous evening about not alluding to the prison in my lectures, that I was wrong in this, that I did refer to it, stating on what points, and the sentiments uttered, presenting the letters that I had received, showing that I uttered no such ideas as alleged, and gave a general outline of my reform moves at the prison and the motives that impelled me to voluntarily assume such excessive labors, closing thus: "And now, gentlemen, if, after doing all this, I am to be crushed, it will be a hard case."