Although, during my residence in the cities of the United States, I
visited most of the public institutions, I have not referred to them at
the time in my Diary, as they have been so often described by preceding
travellers? I shall now, however, make a few remarks upon the
penitentiary system.
I think it was Wilkes who said, that the very worst use to which you
could put a man was to hang him; and such appears to be the opinion in
America. That hanging does not prevent crime, where people are driven
into it by misery and want, I believe; but it does prevent crime where
people commit it merely from an unrestrained indulgence of their
passions. This has been satisfactorily proved in the United States. At
one time the murders in the city of New Orleans were just as frequent as
in all the states contiguous to the Mississippi; but the population of
the city determined to put an end to such scenes of outrage. The
population of New Orleans is very different from that of the southern
states in general, being composed of Americans from the eastern states,
English merchants, and French creoles. Vigorous laws and an efficient
police were established; and one of the southern planters, of good
family and connexions, having committed a murder, was tried and
condemned. To avoid the gallows, he committed suicide in prison. This
system having been rigorously followed up, New Orleans has become
perhaps the _safest_ city in the Union; and now, not even a brawl is
heard in those streets where, a few years back, murders occurred every
hour of the day.
In another chapter I shall enter more fully into this question: at
present I shall only say that there is a great unwillingness to take
away life in America, and it is this aversion to capital punishment
which has directed the attention of the American community to the
penitentiary system. Several varieties of this species of punishment
have been resorted to, more or less severe. The most rigid--that of
solitary confinement in dark cells, and without labour--was found too
great an infliction, as, in many cases, it unsettled the reason, and
ended in confirmed lunacy. Confinement, with the boon of light, but
without employment, was productive of no good effect; the culprit sank
into a state of apathy and indifference. After a certain time, day and
night passed away unheeded, from the want of a healthy tone to the mind.
The prisoners were no longer lunatics, but they were little better than
brute animals.
Neither do I consider the present system, as practised at Sing Sing, the
state prison of New York, as tending to _reform_ the offenders; it
punishes them severely, but that is all. Where corporal punishment is
resorted to, there always will be feelings of vindictiveness; and all
the bad passions must be allowed to repose before the better can gain
the ascendant.
The best system that is acted upon in the Penitentiary at Philadelphia,
where there is solitary confinement, but with labour and exercise. Mr
Samuel Wood, who superintends this establishment, is a person admirably
calculated for his task, and I do not think that any arrangements could
be better, or the establishment in more excellent hands. But my object
was, not so much to view the prison and witness the economy of it, as to
examine the prisoners themselves, and hear what their opinions were.
The surgeon may explain the operation, but the patient who has undergone
it is the proper person to apply to, if you wish to know the degree and
nature of the pain inflicted. I requested, therefore, and obtained
permission, to visit a portion of the prisoners without a third party
being present to prevent their being communicative; selecting some who
had been in but a short time, others who had been there for years, and
referring also to the books, as to the nature and degree of their
offence. I ought to state that I re-examined almost the whole of the
parties about six months afterward, and the results of the two
examinations are now given. I did not take their names, but registered
them in my notes as No. 1, 2, 3, etcetera.
No. 1--a man who had been sentenced to twelve years' imprisonment for
the murder of his wife. He had been bred up as a butcher. (I have
observed that when the use of the knife is habitual, the flinching which
men naturally feel at the idea of driving it into a fellow-creature, is
overcome; and a man who is accustomed to dissect the still palpitating
carcasses of animals, has very little compunction in resorting to the
knife in the event of collision with his own race.) This fellow looked
a butcher; his face and head were all animal; he was by no means
intelligent. He was working at a loom, and had already been confined
for seven years and a half. He said that, after the first six months of
his confinement, he had lost all reckoning of time, and had not cared to
think about it until lately, when he inquired, and was told how long he
had been locked up. Now that he had discovered that more than half his
time had passed away, it occupied his whole thoughts, and sometimes he
felt very impatient.
Mr Wood told me afterwards that this feeling, when the expiration of
the sentence was very near at hand, sometimes amounted to agony.
This man had denied the murder of his wife, and still persisted in the
denial, although there was no doubt of his having committed the crime.
Of course, in this instance there was no repentance; and the
Penitentiary was thrown away upon him, farther than that, for twelve
years, he could not contaminate society.
No. 2--sentenced to four years' imprisonment for forgery; his time was
nearly expired. This was a very intelligent man; by profession he had
been a schoolmaster. He had been in prison before for the same offence.
His opinion as to the Penitentiary was, that it could do no harm, and
might do much good. The fault of the system was one which could not
well be remedied, which was, that there was degradation attached to it.
Could punishment undergone for crime be viewed in the same way as
repentance was by the Almighty, and a man, after suffering for his
fault, re-appear in the world with clean hands, and be admitted into
society as before, it would be attended with the very best effects; but
there was no working out the degradation. When he was released from his
former imprisonment, he had been obliged to fly from the place where he
was known. He was pursued by the harshness of the world, not only in
himself, but in his children. No one would allow that his punishment
had wiped away his crime, and this was the reason why people, inclined
to be honest, were driven again into guilt. Not only would the world
not encourage them, but it would not permit them to become honest; the
finger of scorn was pointed wherever they were known, or found out, and
the punishment after release was infinitely greater than that of the
prison itself.
Miss Martineau observes, "I was favoured with the confidence of a great
number of the prisoners in the Philadelphia Penitentiary, where absolute
seclusion is the principle of punishment. Every one of these prisoners
(none of them being aware of the existence of any other) told me that he
was under obligations to those who had charge of him for treating him
`with respect.'"
No 3--a very intelligent, but not educated man: imprisoned three years
for stealing. He had only been a few months in the penitentiary, but
had been confined for ten years in Sing Sing prison for picking pockets.
I asked him his opinion as to the difference of treatment in the two
establishments. He replied, "In Sing Sing the punishment is corporal--
here it is more mental. In Sing Sing there was little chance of a
person's reformation, as the treatment was harsh and brutal, and the
feelings of the prisoners were those of indignation and resentment."
Their whole time was occupied in trying how they could deceive their
keepers, and communicate with each other by every variety of stratagem.
Here a man was left to his own reflections, and at the same time he was
treated like a _man_. Here he was his own tormentor; at Sing Sing he
was tormented by others. A man was sent to Sing Sing for doing wrong to
others; when there, he was quite as much wronged himself. Two wrongs
never made a right. Again, at Sing Sing they all worked in company, and
knew each other; when they met again, after they were discharged, they
enticed one another to do wrong again. He was convinced that no man
left Sing Sing a better man than he went in. He here felt very often
that he could become better--perhaps he might. At all events his mind
was calm, and he had no feelings of resentment for his treatment. He
had now leisure and quiet for self-examination, if he chose to avail
himself of it. At Sing Sing there was great injustice and no redress.
The infirm man was put to equal labour with the robust, and punished if
he did not perform as much. The flogging was very severe at Sing Sing.
He once ventured to express his opinion that such was the case, and (to
prove the contrary he supposed) they awarded him eighty-seven lashes for
the information.
That many of this man's observations, in the parallel drawn between the
two establishments, are correct, must be conceded; but still some of his
assertions must be taken with due reservation, as it is evident that he
had no very pleasant reminiscences of his ten years' geological studies
in Sing Sing.
No. 4--an Irishman; very acute. He had been imprisoned seven years for
burglary, and his time would expire in a month. He had been confined
also in Walnut-street prison, Philadelphia, for two years previous to
his coming here. He said that it was almost impossible for any man to
reform in that prison, although some few did. He had served many years
in the United States navy. He declared that his propensity to theft was
only strong upon him when under the influence of liquor, or tobacco,
which latter had the same effect upon him as spirits. He thought that
he was reformed now; the reason why he thought so was, that he now liked
work, and had learnt a profession in the prison, which he never had
before. He considered himself a good workman, as he could make a pair
of shoes in a day. He cannot now bear the smell of liquor or tobacco.
(This observation must have been from imagination, as he had no
opportunity in the Penitentiary of testing his dislike.) He ascribed
all his crimes to ardent spirits. He was fearful of only one thing: his
time was just out, and where was he to go? If known to have been in the
prison, he would never find work. He knew a fact which had occurred,
which would prove that he had just grounds for his fear. A tailor, who
had been confined in Walnut-street prison with him, had been released as
soon as his time was up. He was an excellent workman, and resolved for
the future to be honest. He obtained employment from a master tailor in
Philadelphia, and in three months was made foreman. One of the
inspectors of Walnut-street prison came in for clothes, and his friend
was called down to take the measures. The inspector recognised him, and
as soon as he left the shop told his master that he had been in the
Walnut-street prison. The man was in consequence immediately
discharged. He could obtain no more work, and in a few months
afterwards found his way back again to Walnut-street prison for a fresh
offence.
No. 5--a fine intelligent Yankee, very bold in bearing. He was in the
penitentiary under a false name, being well connected had been brought
up as an architect and surveyor, and was imprisoned for having
counterfeit bank notes in his possession. This fellow was a regular
lawyer, and very amusing; it appeared as if nothing could subdue his
elasticity of spirit. He said that he did not think that he should be
better for his incarceration; on the contrary, that it would produce
very bad effects. "I am punished," said he, "not for having passed
counterfeit notes, but for having them in my possession. The facts are,
I had lost all my money by gambling; and then the gamblers, to make me
amends, gave me some of their counterfeit notes, which they always have
by them. I do not say that I should not have uttered them; I believe
that in my distress I should have done so; but I had not exactly made up
my mind. At all events, _I had not_ passed them when, from information
given, I was taken up. This is certain, that not having passed them, it
is very possible for a man to have forged notes in his possession
without being aware of it; but this was not considered by my judges,
although it ought to have been, as I had never been brought up before;
and I have now been sentenced to exactly the same term of imprisonment
as those who were convicted of passing them. Now, this I consider as
unfair; my punishment is too severe for my offence, and that always does
harm--it creates a vindictive feeling, and a desire to revenge yourself
for the injustice done to you.
"Now, sir," continued he, "I should have no objection to compromise; if
they would reduce my punishment one-half, I would acknowledge the
justice of it, and turn honest when I go out again; but, if I am
confined here for three years, why, it is my opinion, that I shall
revenge myself upon society as soon as I am turned loose again." This
was said in a very cheerful, playful manner, as he stood up before his
loom. A more energetic expression, a keener grey eye, I never met with.
There was evidently great daring of soul in this man.
No 6--had only been confined six weeks; his offence was stealing pigs,
and his companion in the crime had been sent here with him. He declared
that he was innocent, and that he had been committed by false swearing.
There is no country in the world where there is so much perjury as in
the United States, if I am to believe the Americans themselves; but Mr
Wood told me that he was present at the trial, and that there was no
doubt of their guilt. This man was cheerful and contented; he was
working at the loom, and had already become skilful. All whom I had
seen up to the present had employment of some sort or other, and should
have passed over this man, as I had done some others, if it had not been
for the contrast between him and his companion.
No. 7--His companion or accomplice. In consequence of the little demand
for the penitentiary manufactures this man had no employment. The first
thing he told me was that he had nothing to do, and was very miserable.
He earnestly requested me to ask for employment for him. He cried
bitterly while he spoke, was quite unmanned and depressed, and
complained that he had not been permitted to hear from his wife and
children. The want of employment appeared to have completely prostrated
this man; although confined but six weeks, he had already lost the time,
and inquired of me the day of the week and the month.
No. 8--was at large. He had been appointed apothecary to the prison; of
course he was not strictly confined, and was in a comfortable room. He
was a shrewd man, and evidently well educated; he had been reduced to
beggary by his excesses, and being too proud to work, he had not been
too proud to commit forgery. I had a long conversation with him, and he
made some sensible remarks upon the treatment of prisoners, and the
importance of delegating the charge of prisoners to competent persons.
His remarks also upon American juries were very severe, and, as I
subsequently ascertained, but too true.
No. 9--a young woman about nineteen, confined for larceny; in other
respects a good character. She was very quiet and subdued, and said
that she infinitely preferred the solitude of the penitentiary to the
company with which she must have associated had she been confined in a
common gaol. She did not appear at all anxious for the expiration of
her term. Her cell was very neat, and ornamented with her own hands in
a variety of ways. I observed that she had a lock of hair on her
forehead which, from the care taken of it, appeared to be a favourite,
and, as I left the cell, I said--"You appear to have taken great pains
with that lock of hair, considering that you have no one to look at
you?"--"Yes, sir," replied she; "and if you think that vanity will
desert a woman, even in the solitude of a penitentiary, you are
mistaken."
When I visited this girl a second time, her term was nearly expired; she
told me that she had not the least wish to leave her cell, and that, if
they confined her for two years more, she was content to stay. "I am
quite peaceful and happy here," she said, and I believe she really spoke
the truth.
No. 10--a free mulatto girl, about eighteen years of age, one of the
most forbidding of her race, and with a physiognomy perfectly brutal;
but she evidently had no mean opinion of her own charms: her woolly hair
was twisted into at least fifty short plaits, and she grinned from ear
to ear as she advanced to meet me. "Pray, may I inquire what you are
imprisoned for?" said I.--"Why, sir," replied she, smirking, smiling,
and coquetting, as she tossed her head right and left,--"If you please,
sir, I was put in here for poisoning a _whole family_." She really
appeared to think that she had done a very praiseworthy act. I inquired
of her if she was aware of the heinousness of her offence. "Yes, she
knew it was wrong, but if her mistress beat her again as she had done,
she thought she would do it again. She had been in prison three years,
and had four more to remain." I asked her if the fear of punishment--if
another incarceration for seven years would not prevent her from
committing such a crime a second time. "She didn't know; she didn't
like being shut up--found it very tedious, but still she thought--was
not quite sure--but she thought that, if ill-treated, she should
certainly do it again."
I paid a second visit to this amiable young lady, and asked her what her
opinion was then.--"Why, she had been thinking, but had not exactly made
up her mind--but she still thought--indeed, she was convinced--that she
_should do it again_."
I entered many other cells, and had conversations with the prisoners but
I did not elicit from them any thing worth narrating. There is,
however, a great deal to be gained from the conversation which I have
recorded. It must be remembered, that observations made by one
prisoner, which struck me as important, if not made by others, were put
as questions by me; and I found that the opinions of the most
intelligent, although differently expressed, led to the same result--
that the present system of the Philadelphia penitentiary was the best
that had been invented. As the schoolmaster said, if it did no good, it
could do no harm. There is one decided advantage in this system, which
is, that they all learn a trade, if they had not one before; and, when
they leave the prison, have the means of obtaining an honest livelihood,
if they wish so to do themselves, _and are permitted so to do by
others_. Here is the stumbling-block which neutralises almost all the
good effects which might be produced by the penitentiary system. The
severity and harshness of the world; the unchristianlike feeling
pervading society, which denies to the penitent what individually they
will have to plead for themselves at the great tribunal, and which will
not permit that punishment, awarded and suffered, can expiate the crime;
on this point, there is no hope of a better feeling being engendered.
Mankind have been, and will be, the same; and it is only to be hoped
that we may receive more mercy in the next world than we are inclined to
extend toward our fellow-creatures in this.
As I have before observed, I care little for the observations or
assertions of directors or of officers entrusted with the charge of the
penitentiaries and houses of correction; they are unintentionally
biased, and things that appear to them to be mere trifles are very often
extreme hardships to the prisoners. It is not only what the body
suffers, but what the mind suffers, which must be considered; and it is
from the want of this consideration that arise most of the defects in
those establishments, not only in America, but everywhere else.
During my residence in the United States, a little work made its
appearance, which I immediately procured; it was the production of an
American, a scholar, once in the best society, but who, by intemperance,
had forfeited his claim to it. He wrote the very best satirical poem I
ever read by an American, full of force, and remarkable for energetic
versification; but intemperance, the prevalent vice of America, had
induced him to beggary and wretchedness, he was (by his own request I
understand) shut up in the house of correction at South Boston, that he
might, if possible, be reclaimed from intemperance; and, on his leaving
it, he published a small work, called "The Rat-Trap, or Cogitations of a
Convict in the House of Correction." This work bears the mark of a
reflective, although buoyant mind; and as he speaks in the highest terms
of Mr Robbins, the master, and bestows praise generally when deserved,
his remarks, although occasionally jocose, are well worthy of attention
and I shall, therefore, introduce a few of them to the reader.