The literary privileges are so widely different in the various prisons
throughout the land that it would be very difficult to render the
proper information. There are some penitentiaries, and especially
the stockades of the South, without libraries, and many prisoners
even serve a term without being granted any educational privileges
whatever, either by way of literary work or reading of good books. It
is more difficult in the stockades to give the literary privileges
than in other established prisons. However, there are states with
established penitentiaries that have not provided the same with
libraries and proper literary accommodations. On the other hand,
many of the penitentiaries have established schools wherein prisoners
can obtain a fair education. For instance, the Michigan state prison
more than twenty-five years ago established graded schools, and all
prisoners who have not a fair education are required four evenings of
the week to attend these schools for an hour and a half. In this way
the prisoner is not only benefited, but it brings him under a new line
of discipline that enables the officer in charge to become familiar
with his mental condition and capabilities and more fully understand
the dispositions of those under his charge. Men who are thus drilled
and properly cared for, after going through this discipline day after
day, cause less trouble to those in charge. In the prisons where the
most humane reformative system of management is used there can be many
things brought to bear upon the minds of the prisoners that will tend
to elevate them and fit them for the higher circles of society. By the
proper treatment and privileges they will soon learn to have a taste
for literary work. A few prisons give the prisoners the privileges
of general literary work, such as delivering orations, recitations,
essays, debates, etc. These things, while they educate and develop
the mind, have a tendency to divert the mind of the prisoner from the
feelings of disgrace and the deplorable situation; and instead of
spending hours brooding in despondency it awakens an activity of the
mind and new thoughts for consideration during the solitary hours.
Every prison should supply each cell with a Bible. Many do this while
others do not. The prisoners should also have access to the library and
permission to call for any book in the library. Where they are thus
looked after it is the duty of certain prisoners to go to each cell and
learn what book is desired for the coming week and to take up the one
which was in their possession during the past week. These requests are
taken to the librarian and the books selected and distributed according
to number. Prisoners who mutilate or destroy the books in any way are
denied the privilege of having a book to read for a few weeks. If the
offence is repeated the punishment on this line is more severe and they
are then neither allowed to receive a book or paper or are refused all
privileges of the library and not even allowed to have paper or writing
material to communicate with their friends. With most prisoners this
is a severe punishment. One who has not been thus incarcerated or had
to spend weeks and months in solitude can scarcely realize the value
of good books to read under such circumstances. But he who has had the
actual experience knows just how to appreciate such a privilege.
During the civil war a number of Union men made a daring raid through
the Confederate line and were afterward captured and cast into dungeons
where they spent weeks of suffering, amid heart-rending scenes, and
notwithstanding their extreme hunger, thirst, and the stifling odor of
their dark underground prison and suffering much from their shackles
and clanking chains, they were taken from place to place and then
brought to trial. Seven of their number were hanged, leaving about a
dozen remaining who were expecting to be called out to follow in their
footsteps at any time. Through some sudden change or maneuver of war
the remainder of these men were left in prison with guards over them
and only a meager supply of food. As the seven of their comrades were
taken from their midst to the place of execution those who remained
were in much distress of mind. During the morning hours before this
they had spent the time in playing cards, now and then an oath escaping
their lips, but now the scene changed. Some one suggested that they
should pray. There was but little hope of them escaping the fate of
their comrades and thus soon be hurled into eternity, and what added
more to the darkness of the hour was the fact that they had not
made their peace with God. One of the surviving party describes the
occurrence as follows:
“From this time forward we had religious exercises morning and evening
and found them a great consolation and support. We began and closed
the day right and thus added sweetness to all its hours, supplying
a subject of thought not bearing directly upon our future gloomy
prospects and thus enabling us to maintain better mental health. We
always sang a hymn or two on these occasions. We sang ‘Rock of Ages,’
‘Jesus, Lover of my Soul,’ and others of a pronounced spiritual cast.
This greatly astonished the guards. They were given strict charge to
watch us closely with the statement that we were the most desperate
characters in the whole United States. Then to hear us singing ‘hymns’
and know that we had prayer morning and evening was a contradiction
they found hard to reconcile.... What would we not now have given for
the counsels and assistance of a minister whom we could fully trust!
Just how to be religious was the puzzle. I know if I had a command to
execute from an army officer I would do it, if in my power, no matter
how difficult or dangerous, and I wished intensely that it was just as
easy to be religious as to be a soldier; but there was the question of
right feelings and right motives that did not seem to come into play
very much in the army. For if a soldier did his duty he was not apt to
be asked how he felt about it. I had the belief that I must have joy
and rapture in thinking of death and readiness to shout God’s praises,
which I did not feel; and for a time it seemed as if I could not
reach a genuine conversion. I diligently read the Bible which we had
borrowed, and while I enjoyed many things in it, little direct guidance
for me was found. I asked counsel of our captain for whom I had the
greatest esteem and respect, but it was so easy for him to believe
that I thought his case must be very unlike my own, so I spoke to
another one of our company, the only one of our number who had a clear
religious faith, and seemed to be happy in it. His first answer was
very striking. I asked how he felt about death. He thought I referred
to our worldly prospect, and answered that probably we would soon
all be put to death. ‘But what is your feeling about death itself?’
I continued. He said, ‘I am not afraid to die if it is God’s will. I
trust him now and I expect to trust him to the last.’
He took my hand and there was a steady light in his eye that made me
believe every word he said. But when I asked him how he got such a
faith, he could only tell me that he went to a ‘mourners bench’ two
years before and sought till he found it. This did me no good, for
there was no place accessible here. In sore perplexity I read the Bible
from day to day and prayed, taking my turn in praying aloud and reading
with the others. At length I thought I began to see that trusting
Christ must be something like taking his words and teachings for my
guide, trying to do all that he commanded, and leaving the result while
I did this with him. This was not that sudden transformation that I
had hoped, but I soon found that it opened up a good many things that
I had never dreamed of. One of these seemed especially strange under
the circumstances. I had yet but a slender hope of ever escaping from
the prison except by the way of the scaffold. But in spite of that dark
prospect as an absolute test of my obedience—‘Will you, if satisfied
that it is God’s will, be ready to give up the profession of law if you
ever get home and go into the ministry?’ The first and spontaneous
reply was, No! I had studied law and meant to practice it if I ever got
where law reigned. But at once the self response was clear, ‘What kind
of obedience was this?’ I saw that I was not sincere in professing to
enlist under Christ as my captain unless I would really obey him. It
would be a poor allegiance that stopped short with the things I wanted
to do. For a long time I could not pass this point. The difficulty
when communicated to my prison companions seemed utterly absurd. ‘Try
to serve God in the prison where you are,’ they said with a cheer
plausibility, ‘and do not bother about preaching, being a lawyer or
anything else, when you get out, for you never will get out.’ This
seemed good advice but it would not give a serene mind or the victory
over the fear of death, which I so much desired.
“One after another of those in the prison found the comfort I lacked.
And it was not until wearied and worn-out that I vowed that if God
would only give me peace I would serve him as sincerely in prison or
out of it as I had tried to serve my country, and in any way he might
direct. From this time I did have a steady conviction that I was on the
Lord’s side and that I had a right to commit myself and my life to his
keeping. Though all newspapers were strictly forbidden, yet through
the kindness of negro waiters we were supplied and thus kept posted
regarding war news.... We all remember with deepest gratitude the visit
of a minister. When he left he promised to send us some books and did
not forget to promptly forward them. These we took good care of, read
thoroughly to all in the room, and then returned, asking for more.
These he generously gave and we thus continued until we had read nearly
his whole library. Those only who know what a dreadful weariness it is
to pass days without any definite employment can realize the great boon
these good books bestowed on us. It made the prison room a veritable
school, and in view of our religious efforts the character of the books
was just what we would most have desired, as they were of a religious
cast, which only made them the more welcome. But there is no employment
upon which I look back with more pleasure than that for which the
minister’s books furnished us the material. With fifteen persons in
a room not more than eighteen feet square it was needful to preserve
quiet if any reading must be done. We therefore appointed regular
reading hours, two in the forenoon and the same in the afternoon.
During this time no one was permitted to speak above a low whisper and
all noise and running about was forbidden. Those who did not wish to
read might sleep. Sometimes the books were read silently, but for a
part of the time in nearly every period a volume of general interest
would be selected and read aloud. These books would often furnish
subjects and arguments for discussion in the debating periods that
followed. We gained a great deal of knowledge in our novel school,
which has been of lifelong value. Books of travel, adventure, history,
biography, and theology—no fiction—were freely read and brought the
freshness of the outside world into our dreary captivity.”
The foregoing gives us a vague idea of what can be done for the welfare
of the prisoners in the jails, work-houses, and penal institutions of
our land, towards making the prisoners happy by supplying them with
good books, tracts, papers, and such like. Oh, the neglect on this
line! Were prisoners thus supplied, their minds would not be occupied
during the solitary hours in scheming and planning the best modes of
perpetrating crime. Get a man interested in a good book and you thus
place him in good company. He may never see you, but with deep feelings
of gratitude will ever have the kindest feelings toward those who
thus bestowed the kind favor of placing him in possession of such a
companion.
For the entertainment of the prisoner and to develop an interest in
literary work they have been allowed to publish prison papers. Some
of these are very small while others are large and well edited. About
three years ago at Sing Sing Prison, in the state of New York, it was
decided to issue a bi-weekly twenty-six-page paper to be edited and
printed entirely by convicts. No article is allowed in the paper except
those composed and furnished by the inmates of the prison. When papers
are thus printed and distributed among the prisoners it has a great
controlling influence and creates a general interest in literary work.