The exterior wall of the cells, which looks upon the area ten feet wide, is two feet thick. The walls which separate the cells are one foot thick. Thus a recess is formed at each door, which deadens the sound, should one prisoner attempt to hold communication with another. The only opening from each cell is an open grate in the upper part of the door, twenty inches long by eighteen wide, and defended by thick iron bars. Through this glazed grate, light, air, and heat are admitted to the cell. The door is fastened by a strong latch, connected with a hook and a bar of iron.It is thus almost impossible for one prisoner to communicate with another, even if there were no sentinel present to listen.[93]
The economy of this mode of building is evident. A convenient hospital may be made, by dispensing with the partition walls between four of the cells in the upper story. Thus constructed, four hundred cells, seven feet long seven high, and three and a half feet wide, cover only two hundred and six by forty-six feet of ground. At Auburn, five small stoves and eighteen lamps, great and small, placed in the ten-feet area, beyond the reach of the prisoners, give light and heat to five hundred and forty cells. One sentinel suffices to guard four hundred prisoners, and to prevent communication between them. The space in front of the cells is, like the ear of Dionysius, a perfect sounding gallery, so that the sentinel, in the area, can hear a whisper from a distant cell, in the upper story. The experiment has been often tried, and always with the same result.
The rules and regulations found most effectual in this and other prisons, are as follows: On entering, a criminal should undergo a thorough cleansing. It should be a part of the regulations to classify the prisoners. Men and women should be separated, as also old and young, condemned and uncondemned, debtors and criminals. Prisoners should be comfortably clothed, and fed with wholesome food. Employment should be provided for such as have trades, and trades should be taught to such as have none, so that they may not be a burthen to the society they have offended, or be compelled to resort to crime for subsistence when discharged. All these, and many other desirable ends, are believed to have been attained in Auburn, and other prisons conducted on the same plan.
The government of Auburn is confided to five inspectors, a keeper, a deputy keeper, a clerk, sixteen assistant keepers, who are master workmen in the shops, five sentinels, a porter, a physician, and a chaplain. The inspectors receive no compensation; that of the officers amounts to an aggregate of four thousand and thirty-two dollars per annum. No spirituous liquors are used by any officer, or are allowed to be introduced into the establishment by the guard, when on duty, nor is any officer to invite the others together for the purpose of drinking, or treating, as it is called. All the turnkeys are required to attend divine service excepting two, who cannot be spared from the prison and the kitchen. A uniform gravity and dignity are constantly maintained by the officers in presence of the convicts, and they are expected, at all times, to treat each other with that respect and kindness which are calculated to advance the best interests of the institution.
The convicts march to and from their rest, food, and labor, at stated times, in profound silence. The order of their march is in single file, to the lock-step, keeping their faces toward the keeper, that he may detect conversation, if it should be attempted. The same silence and good order are enforced, as far as possible, in every business, and in every department. The duty of the keepers is to prevent conversation, looking at spectators, and idle diversion; for this purpose, as well as to keep the convictsat work, they are continually walking about the shops. The stillness and order of divine service are truly impressive, and during the night the area about the cells is a scene of peculiar solemnity and gloom. A hundred or more young convicts acquire the rudiments of learning in the Sunday school.
A valuable experiment on the subject of temperance was first made in this prison, and has since been carried into effect in all the rest. The convicts being strictly debarred the use of tobacco, ardent spirits, and all other stimulants, it was found that the health of the most abandoned drunkards did not suffer, contrary to the common idea that the grossly intemperate cannot at once break off from the use of spirits without danger. It appears that, for a few days, they are uneasy, and lose their appetite, after which they eat heartily, and uniformly improve in health and appearance.
The mode of punishment in this and similar prisons merits some attention. Stripes, fetters, solitary confinement, and hunger are used, and there is much difference of opinion respecting their respective degrees of utility. In some extensive establishments, stripes and chains are not used at all; in others, recourse is had to stripes only. It is so in Auburn. In Richmond, Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Charlestown, and Concord, solitary confinement, with a reduced allowance of bread and water, is preferred. In Connecticut, all the above methods are practised, and severe hunger is often found efficacious. If the efficacy of the different modes is to be tested by the results they produce on discipline, Auburn seems to show that stripes are better than other punishments. The difference in the order, industry, and subdued feeling of the prisoners, is in favor of Auburn, though perhaps, this is as much to be ascribed to their separation by night, and other salutary regulations, as to the mode of physical correction. The advocates for whipping urge, that it requires less time than other punishments, that the mind of the sufferer does not so long dwell on it, that it is less severe, and that it can more easily be proportioned to the offence. On the other hand, it is said that solitary confinement will subdue men hardened against all other inflictions, and no doubt it has so operated in very many cases. Be the question decided as it may, the remark of the London Prison Discipline Society’s seventh annual report is undeniably untrue, viz. that ‘solitary confinement, unmitigated by employment either of body or mind, is the most prominent feature in the discipline now recommended in the United States.’
We are unable, both from the want of space and of sufficient means of information, to enter into minute details respecting the government of many of the prisons. At Sing-sing, on the Hudson river, the convicts are awakened in the morning by a bell; but before they are let out of their cells, the chaplain reads a prayer that may be heard by all on one side, the space between the cells and the external wall being a perfect sounding gallery. The doors are then opened, and the prisoners step forth, at the word of command, into the gallery. They are then marched to the workshops, stopping on the way to wash themselves. One party cleanses the whole establishment, another attends to washing, and another to cooking. The whole body then go to their fixed tasks, such as hewing stone, sawing marble, forging iron, and the various mechanic arts with which they may be acquainted. Each shop is superintended by a turnkey, who must himselfbe a trustworthy master-workman, in order that he may instruct those under his charge. While in the shops, the prisoners are placed with their faces all in one direction, so that there can be no communication by looks or signs. From twenty to thirty are engaged in each shop, and one good man is found able to keep that number of hardened villains in order.
A narrow, dark passage runs along the back of the shops, with narrow slits in the wall, through which the superintendent may observe the conduct of both the convicts and the turnkeys, himself unseen by either. This certainty of being at all moments liable to an authorized espionage, cannot fail to keep all parties careful of their behavior.
At eight, at the sound of the bell, the convicts are again marched to their cells, at the doors of which their breakfasts have already been placed. They are locked in, and eat in solitude and silence. In twenty minutes, they are again marched to their work, and at noon they go to dinner in precisely the same manner, and at night to supper. At a fixed hour, the bell warns them to undress and go to bed, after having heard the chaplain’s prayer, as in the morning. The next day brings the same dull, unvaried round, convincing them that they are indeed cut off from mankind, and that for the purpose of punishment. It should seem that if any thing could make the wicked turn from his wickedness, it would be the prospect of passing years in this manner.