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 pa.s.sed off, all came clearly to view, as given on a former page.

28. _Preparing for the adjourned session._ Sat.u.r.day 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, a.s.serting 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 a.s.sure 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 a.s.surances 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 inst.i.tution, 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 antic.i.p.ated; 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 cl.u.s.tered around ready to help, as I had not antic.i.p.ated. 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 a.s.sertion 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 a.s.sume such excessive labors, closing thus: "And now, gentlemen, if, after doing all this, I am to be crushed, it will be a hard case."

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 antic.i.p.ated 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 pa.s.s 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.

31. _Chaplain's change of course and the question as to who should conduct the prison correspondence._ After this hearing, I decided to change my course in two respects, the one about going out to lecture on a.s.sociation matters, the other about writing to prisoners' friends.

These I wholly abandoned. True, nothing was said to me suggestive of these changes, nor had I taken any wrong step on the points, but, in the investigation, I was led to see that these were _the_ sources whence misconception would be the most likely to arise, and where evil-minded persons might pretend a wrong, with some show of plausibility, without really any shadow of grounds in truth. I would not only shun every evil, but every appearance of evil, or what might be construed into an appearance.

Great sensitiveness pervades too many minds on the idea of attempting to show benevolence to a released prisoner, they holding it as a wrong to society. These will not hear on the subject understandingly, but with prejudice and a proclivity to misrepresent. Though the cla.s.s does not embrace, in its numbers, the more intelligent, worthy citizens, yet it contains more or less who possess the power of casting mists of blindness before the well-disposed and honest seekers for the right.

In this cla.s.s, we find the ideas of the brutal and vindictive freely cropping out in their utterances. "Those fellows ought to suffer. They were put in prison for punishment, now let them have enough of it, so that they may thus learn to do better, no matter if it were ten times worse." These persons seem to think that the correct way of prison management would be to select the most hard-hearted, cruel men of the State for officers, and deliver the convicts into their hands, for them to exercise their brutal feelings upon as fully and freely as they may choose. These points, then, evidently need to be agitated in the State, by lecturers and through the press, but it were better that this work be done by others than by the prison chaplain.

The loss of my occasional writing was severely felt, especially by outside friends. Thus, on Fast day of '71, a prisoner wrote a letter to a sister in the West, and asked for an envelope and stamp that he might send it, but weeks and months pa.s.sed and none were forthcoming. There was the idea, "You must not ask a second time." The sister became deeply troubled at not hearing from or about the brother, not knowing whether he were dead or alive, and wrote to me, earnestly beseeching to be informed. But as I was now under the ban, I did not answer her. She also wrote to the ex-warden, but he was away and did not answer. In the fall, when that gentleman of Concord was chosen warden, she wrote to him, but, as he was sick and knew nothing of the matter, he did not respond. And no doubt she also wrote to the warden himself; but probably has not heard to this day.

Formerly, I should have written her something like this: "Your brother is alive, in usual health, and progressing well. Don't be over-anxious till he may write you." In this way I could have satisfied her, measurably, at least with no reflection, in any way, on prison management.

This neglect of the deputy seemed the more cruel from the fact that the man was a most faithful, obedient prisoner, and that this sister had previously furnished him with ample writing materials, that he might write frequently with no expense to the State, which materials the warden had confiscated on coming into office.

In connection with this matter, the important question comes up, In whose hands, really, should the prison correspondence be placed?--in those of the warden or chaplain? The correspondence, to be well managed, requires no little labor, especially if the inmates are permitted to write as they should and receive answers in return. If, in the warden's hands, it would tend to crowd other business too much, or itself be too much neglected, the latter having been the fact.

To avoid all this, in various places, they put the management in the hands of the chaplain. This would seem the more appropriate, being rather in his line of duty, and more easily performed by him. A schedule of the points of information, which should be allowed to pa.s.s, could be marked out by the competent authority and laid before him for his guidance, that matters might be correct in that respect.

This question ought to receive the careful attention of our law-makers, for proper letter writing should not be restricted in any degree in the prison. Good letters from home and friends will bring with them no little reformatory power and influence to quietness and order. Indeed, the privilege, by proper management, can be made a great force in disciplinary efforts among the prisoners.

32. _Change, for a time, in the warden's management._ Shortly after the death of Sylver, a man, occupying a cell near by, was taken sick, but could sit up the most of the time. As he said, the warden went to him and remarked, "I am warden here. Be free, and ask for whatever you need, and you shall have it." He permitted this man to sit with his cell door unlocked, and to go to the stove when he chose, and, to all appearance, properly cared for him, giving reason for much commendation. True, he was shortly to leave prison, and his statement would go towards counteracting the reports of prison cruelty circulating outside, and some were uncharitable enough to contend that this was the object of the better treatment.

One evening, about this time, I found a prisoner in his cell appearing as though he could live but a few hours, and perhaps minutes, unless immediately attended to. He had been in the hospital a number of weeks with a lung difficulty and, though he had not recovered, was transferred sometime that day, I think, to his cell,--to a colder atmosphere. Here, he found it difficult to speak or breathe. I hastened to the warden for him to attend to the matter. He hurried for the physician, who soon arrived, and had the sufferer returned to the hospital, where he died some weeks after. This was one of my only three requests or suggestions that were granted or favorably attended to by the warden while I was under him. True, I was not denied many times, for I early learned not to propose anything or make any request, except when absolutely needed.

This changed course in the warden, however, did not continue many weeks.

That hearing and its acquittal had pa.s.sed, and the Sylver affair was dying away, when, at length, I thus found him returned to his former spirit. Though early in the season, on a warm day, he had divested the sick of their flannels, and I suppose all other prisoners. Soon the weather became cooler, and I found a sick man in the hospital suffering greatly for want of his flannels, which articles, as he a.s.serted, he had not previously been without, summer or winter, for twenty years. He was trembling with the cold, which much enhanced his distress. Going to the warden, I presented the case, and received the reply, "If he wants his flannels, let him ask the doctor." He could meddle in the matter enough to divest the man of the needed articles, but would not move to put them on, and thus mitigate his sufferings. It was then early in the afternoon, and the man would have to suffer till the next forenoon, the usual time for the doctor to make his visit. When he came, as I was informed, he lectured them severely for removing the flannels at all.

33. _The fate of Henry Stewart and others._ Henry was said to have been exceedingly unfortunate in his parents, they having been largely chargeable with his proclivities to evil. He was highly excitable, easily thrown into a perfect phrensy of pa.s.sion, insane at times, and, on the whole, very difficult to manage, requiring a large amount of patience and skill in those over him. They needed to study his peculiarities and accommodate their treatment to his particular case, much the same as would the driver of a vicious, balky horse. The former managers had so treated him, that he had really improved, and his condition was appearing more and more hopeful. But in the new order, where officers were not expected to bother themselves over peculiarities, it was different with Henry. Though laboring with faithfulness generally, what was bred within would appear in outward acts. When a spell came on, they would "shake him up," as the deputy said (the import of which I did not fully understand), and put him in the solitary. At length his insanity, or whatever had impelled him, would pa.s.s off, and he come out in his right mind. Confinement to his cell would probably have been just as effective in securing his good deportment and less injurious to his health. Whenever I visited him, he would appear hopeful, tell what a good boy he proposed to be, how he meant to live, and not get into any more trouble; that he should soon be out, and would then strive to be a good man. Many air castles the poor fellow thus built, but to see them fall. The prison fare and general management was now highly unfavorable to his proclivities, tending constantly to make them worse. Men repeatedly told me that the officers would severely beat him, and that he was sadly abused. One day, in a freak of insanity or anger, he struck his overseer to the floor with a bed-post, coming within a hair's breadth of ending his life, and was aiming a second blow, which a fellow prisoner arrested, and thus saved the overseer. Henry was put in the solitary, and I know not how long kept there, nor how used; but when, at length, I found him in his cell, he was greatly changed. I was perfectly astonished! He was not only insane, but changed in physical appearance; shrunken in flesh and with a strange expression of countenance. For a time, I could hardly believe it was Henry, but finally had to admit that it was really he. I have seldom seen one with a fever change more for the time. Soon his insanity took a boisterous turn by night, keeping the other prisoners all awake, which induced them for a time to confine him to the solitary during these hours, and keep him in his cell by day. But his howls so disturbed the prison family, that they next resorted to keeping him in the shop by night, lying upon his back, his feet chained together, with a post between them.

Thus, they continued for a season, but finally, the governor sent him to the insane asylum. Shortly after, I was speaking to one of Henry, in hearing of the warden, as being insane, to which he replied, "No, he is not insane. He is ugly, of which I could have cured him, had his time not been so near out." I thought, "You _would_ have cured him by death, and were very near it."

As he was taken to the asylum, the warden said to me, "Chaplain, I wish it understood that he is taken out to be tried for attempting to kill his overseer," thereby expressing the desire, as I understood it, for me to give that version of the matter to the prisoners. "What an idea!" I answered in my mind, "the chaplain going about lying for the warden!"

Fisher was naturally of a low order of mind, but still possessed knowledge enough to work well at many things under the direction of another, was to come out the early part of March, but whom I missed from his cell a while previous, and, from his long absence, began to suppose they had sent him off unbeknown to me. But the day previous to the expiration of his sentence, I found him again in his cell, completely demented. I was told by more than one, that his overseer, attempting to direct him in a certain way about his work and not succeeding, seized him by the collar, plunged him head foremost to the floor, and then jerked him about, he probably now uttering some disrespectful words; then the deputy was called and took him to the solitary, I was also informed, and plunged him against the outer prison door, on the way, with such force as to push it open.

When first finding him in his cell, as stated, I asked where his father lived, and he answered, "Enfield," as I understood it. But after that, I could not obtain even a sound from his lips. He kept almost constantly spitting, would frequently laugh to himself, but I could learn nothing about his legal residence. I was expected to care for him, and would not turn him loose to suffer and perhaps perish; but I found that I should be liable for damage, should I send him to another town. True, the State, by her prison management, had reduced him to this wretched condition, and ought to bear the expense of maintaining him, but there was no law or provision for that. Hence, finding it my only safe and legitimate course, I obtained a decree from the probate judge, took him to the insane asylum, and notified the commissioners of that county, of the same.

No doubt, with proper prison fare and treatment, both of these men might have come out able to earn their living, under proper guardians, which they would have needed; and that the fate of both was directly chargeable to the prison treatment.

There was one, also, who left after my departure from prison, belonging to another State, who had become nearly as demented as Fisher. Hence, they obtained for him a railroad pa.s.s, and put him on board the cars with a label fastened upon his arm, directing him to be transferred to such a State and town, where his friends were supposed to live. He, too, I doubt not, was reduced to that demented condition by the prison treatment for he was far from such a state at the beginning of the year.

34. _Warden's want of courtesy to prisoners' visitors._ By rule, no friend is allowed to see a prisoner except in presence of the warden or a subordinate that he may hear whatever is said. The time allowed for a visit is usually short, and the parties, of course, wish to make the most of every moment. But no little complaint was made, that, when the interview was in the warden's presence, he would engross much of the time in recounting his exploits in prison management, the disorders he found, the corrections he had made, how they would deceive his predecessor, but could not deceive him, and the like. No matter how far one had come, or at what expense, he would, perhaps, be treated thus.

Some, on going away, having had an opportunity of saying but few words to the prisoner whom they visited, would utter remarks which were anything but complimentary to the man thus imposing upon them, as they regarded it, and to the State for allowing such things to occur.