Prison libraries are generally the result of heterogeneous and indiscriminate donations, the aftermath of the spring house-cleanings of the philanthropically inclined. Such donations should be accepted in the spirit in which given, graciously, thankfully, then where proper, classified, catalogued and used. But this source should not be depended on entirely, or even largely, to supply the library. The books should be selected with as much care and fidelity as they are selected for a university or a public library, for they are to accomplish the same purpose.
THE DAILY AND WEEKLY NEWSPAPER
The writer never shared in the fear of the daily or weekly newspaper in the prison. He acknowledges their necessity to himself, and feels that what is helpful to him ought not seriously to injure his men. In this day, the yellow journals, so called, are mighty agencies for reform, and they and their associate muck rakers, the magazines, are uncovering frauds and wrongs in high places, and driving powerful wrongdoers to cover; and when their work is completed, the smaller criminals will not have the baleful example of some people in high places to justify them in their evil ways. The taste for a blood-and-thunder paper, magazine or book, is infinitely preferable to none at all. The taste will pall eventually on such pabulum and call for better.
Every prison is a community of itself and to itself. The things that elevate people outside, should be found inside the walls. There should be neatness and cleanliness and sanitary conditions everywhere. The lawns should be green, neat and carefully kept. Every prison should have a greenhouse, and flowers should abound in profusion, for civilizing, ennobling and disciplinary powers of nature at her fairest cannot be over-estimated.
The reading courses should be supplemented by instructive lectures and literary entertainments, for such times as are practicable. Theatricals should be permitted and encouraged at intervals. Such relaxation is a great lubricant. Quartettes, octettes and choirs should be organized, and all the men possible taught vocal music under a competent instructor. Orchestras and brass bands should be maintained from the inmates, and music should be a feature of very proper occasion.
To the timid soul who fears that all these pains will pamper the convict and make him love the prison and do something to be returned, let me say that the greatest punishment is in being immured behind great walls beyond which he cannot go, and any deprivation of the elements of reform and enlightened discipline is a mere bagatelle compared to the main fact of imprisonment. As Chaplain Tribou forcibly says: “Men are not sent to prison to be punished, they are punished by being sent to prison.”
Let the great aim be to show the men the many legitimate avenues of improvement, enlightenment, enjoyment and amusements that are open to those who never transgress the law.
Convicts are not to be classed as a peculiar species of genus homo, but are to be regarded as individuals, amenable to the same influences, the same treatment, the same hopes as other men. Charles Reade, in his famous book “It Is Never Too Late to Mend,” tells of two little children who come to see a thief just arrested. “Farmer Fielding,” says the little girl, courtesying, a mode of reverence which was instantly copied by the boy, “we are come to see the thief; they say you have caught one.” “Oh dear!” and her bright little countenance was overcast, “I couldn’t have told it from a man.”
Prison sentiment is a powerful auxiliary in discipline, and the consciousness among the men that “a square deal” from the management can be depended upon for the cause of enlightenment, refinement, cheer and relaxation, is worth more than a regiment of soldiers.