They now referred to the other cases on which but little more was brought out. Before closing, one of the council, turning to me, remarked, "Now, Mr. Quinby, if you know of anything wrong at the prison, not here developed, we wish you to be free and state it, for we desire to understand the truth." But I did not think it best for me to say anything farther then, for, if I did, it would be opening a square fight with the warden, which I by no means desired, and for which I did not feel myself prepared. It would have been really stepping forward as leader in the matter, a position which I did not wish. Then, again, as I supposed, such prejudice had somehow been aroused against me, that, should I attempt to make further development, it would be of little or no use, and perhaps be worse for the cause than my silence. Besides, I hoped that the time would come, and that not far distant, when our rulers would have their eyes opened, and matters be so effectually sifted as to find the real truth.
Thus, the hearing closed, and we left the deliberating body to make up judgment, which was that "no blame is to be attached to any one," or to that amount. This was just as I had anticipated respecting the Sylver case, the food, &c., for the investigation really amounted to little in those respects. I was truly disappointed, however, concerning myself, not that any wrong, or even a shadow of it, was brought against me, but, as I judged from the Governor's remarks and the general drift of things, that certain ones had worked underhandedly, and so effectually as to render my removal a sure matter. But they did not succeed.
30. Motives for desiring the chaplain's removal. One asks, "What could be the motive of any for seeking your removal, if you had uniformly proceeded at the prison as before set forth?" That was the puzzle to me, for not a word had been said in that direction, except the note of warning from the prisoner, till conversing with the Governor, and then nothing specific; hence, I was left wholly to conjecture. My persistent effort to keep alive, as far as possible, what I could of the reform system of the past year, was, no doubt, repulsive to the warden, and in order to be rid of that, he would need to be rid of me. This might be one motive. Again, no little stir was being made in the city about prison usages, prison suffering, &c. Probably he thought I was at the bottom of that; that I wrote down facts inside, and divulged them outside. Hence, the nettling that one of my practices caused. Occasionally, I would be solving a long question in arithmetic for the prisoner at the striking of the signal for retiring to the shop, at which I would step aside, sit down, finish my solution, return the slate to the prisoner's cell, and leave. I also, at times, noticed that the deputy was watching me far more earnestly than the men. Then the question was asked at the hearing, what I was writing on these occasions.
Now, if he considered me as the cause of this stirring up, he, of course, would wish me away. This would be a strong motive. But I was not. True, I wrote the stories of a number of the men, as they came out, or till all were found telling over and over the very same thing, in substance. These, however, I laid away in my drawer, saying nothing about them to any one. But these men would also call on their former Sabbath school teachers, or other acquaintances they had met in prison, and relate to them their stories, and thus they spread. Neighbors would call at my house, and be talking these matters over, I being as reticent as possible, but would not come out squarely and lie in the matter by contradicting the accounts. And, further, the points which I had brought to the governor's notice were, without doubt, unsatisfactory to the warden. Then, also, my fitting up the prisoners as they left. He perhaps desired a man for the place, who might wish it so much as to be willing to pass on with doing but little of what I was attempting.
For months I supposed these the great motives which prompted that removal. But the next year I learned of another and perhaps greater than either of these. A man, retiring from prison, said to me, "Chaplain, how amused we would feel sometimes, last year, when you were preaching, at the appearance of the warden, to see him turn pale, and then red, and hitch on his seat. We understood it." Another, usually present, not a prisoner, said also that he had noticed the same thing.
At the time in question, I was treating upon the moral code from Sabbath to Sabbath, and would, in one discourse, take up lying, and point out as clearly as I could its influence upon the one practicing it, and upon society in general; then, perhaps, stealing, or swindling and thus on. In these efforts, I was intent on discharging my duty to the prisoners, on leading them from those sins, having nothing to do in the matter with the warden as to any of his steps in life. If personal applications were made, I was not responsible for that. I arranged for no such purpose.
But when the man, on his release, made the remark given, the idea flashed in my mind that here was a stirring motive to efforts for getting rid of me, with the hope of obtaining one who might be willing, on coming to certain sins, to let the plow of truth turn out, and not go straight through.
Whether that running to the Governor and that stirring him up so greatly, was prompted by one or another of the above reasons, or all combined, or something else, still, I never ascertained. Had charges been preferred against me openly and squarely, I could have met them face to face, known what was what, and shown their falsity. But as things were, I was left in the dark as to how to proceed, and to what conclusions I should come as to the motives prompting to the struggle to my disadvantage.