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.