Speaking of his companions, he says:--

"I had expected to find myself linked with a band of most outrageous

ruffians, but such did not prove to be the case. Few of them were

decidedly of a vicious temperament. The great fault with them seemed to

be a want of moral knowledge and principle. Were I to commit a theft I

should think myself unworthy to live an instant; but some of them spoke

of the felonies for which they were adjudged to suffer with as much

_nonchalance_ as if they were the every-day business of life, without

scruple and without shame. Few of them denied the justice of their

sentences; and if they expressed any regret, it was not that they had

sinned, but that they had been detected. The duration of the sentence,

the time or money lost, the physical suffering, was what filled their

estimate of their condition. Many had groans and oaths for a lost

dinner, a night in the cells, or a tough piece of work, but none had a

tear for the branding infamy of their conviction. Yet some, even of the

most hardened, faltered, and spoke with quivering lip and glistening

eye, when they thought of their parents, wives, and children. The

flinty Horeb of their souls sometimes yielded gushing streams to the

force of that appeal. But there were very few who felt any shame on

their own account. Their apathy on the point of honour was amazing. A

young man, not twenty-five years old, in particular, made his felonies

his glory, and boasted that he had been a tenant of half the prisons in

the United States. He was sentenced to four years' imprisonment for

stealing a great number of pieces of broadcloth, which he unblushingly

told me he had lodged in the hands of a receiver of stolen goods, and

expected to receive the value at the expiration of his sentence. He

relied on the proverbial `honour among thieves.' That fellow ought to

be kept in safe custody the remainder of his natural life."

Certainly those remarks do not argue much for the reformation of the

culprit.

By his account, a parsimony in every point appears to be the great

desideratum aimed at. Speaking of the chaplain to the institution, he

says:--

"Small blame to him; I honour and respect the man, though I laugh at the

preacher. And I say, that seven hundred and thirty sermons _per annum_,

for three hundred dollars and a weekly dinner, are quite pork enough for

a shilling. No man goeth a warfare on his own charges, and the labourer

is worthy of his hire. I do not see how he can justify such wear and

tear of his pulmonary leather, for so small a sum, to his conscience.

What is a sixpenny razor or a nine-shilling sermon? Neither can be

expected to cut--not but his sermons would be very good for the use of

glorified saints--but, alas! there are none such in the House of

Correction. What is the inspiration of a penny-a-liner? I will suppose

that one of the hearers is a sailor, who would relish and appreciate a

sausage or a lobscouse. Mr -- sets _blanc mange_ before him.--Messrs.

of the city government give your chaplain two thousand dollars a-year,

so that he may reside in the house of correction, without leaving his

family to starvation; let him visit each individual, learn his

circumstances and character, and sympathise with him in all his sorrows,

and, my word for it, Mr -- will have the love and confidence of all.

He will be an instrument of great good by his counsel and exhortations.

But as for his public preaching, this truly good, pious, and learned man

might as well sing psalms to a mad horse. Fishes will not throng to St

Anthony, or swine listen to the exorcism of an apostle, in these godless

days. If you think he will be overpaid for his services, you may braze

the duty of a schoolmaster, who is very much needed, to that of a

ghostly adviser.

"Mr -- never fails to pray strenuously that the master and officers may

be supported and sustained, which has given rise to the following

tin-pot epigram:--

"Support the master and the overseers,

O Lord! so runs our chaplain's weekly ditty;

Unreasonable prayers God never hears,

He knows that they're supported by the city."

He complains bitterly of the convicts not being permitted the use of any

books but the Bible and temperance Almanac. It is rather strange, but

he says that he supposes that a full half of the inmates of the house of

correction can neither _read_ nor _write_.

"Is it pleasant to look back on follies, vices, crimes; presently on

blasted hopes, iron bars, and unrequited labour; and forward upon

misery, starvation, and a world's scorn? In some degree the malice of

this regulation, which ought only to be inscribed on the statute-book of

hell, is impotent. The small glimpse of earth, sea, and sky a convict

can command, a spider crawling upon the wall, the very corners of his

cell, will serve, by a strong effort, for occupation for his thoughts.

Read the following tea-pot-graven monologue, written by some

mentally-suffering convict, and reflect upon it:--

"Stone walls and iron bars my frame confine,

But the full liberty of thought is mine,

Sad privilege! the mental glance to cast

O'er crimes, o'er follies, and misconduct past.

Oh wretched tenant of a guarded cell,

Thy very freedom makes thy mind a hell.

Come, blessed death; thy grinded dart to me,

Shall the bless'd signal of deliverance be;

With thy worst agonies were cheaply bought,

A last release, a final rest from thought."

"If the pains of a prison be not enough for you, I will teach you a

lesson in the art of torture which I learned from our chaplain, or one

of his substitutes.--`Make your cells round and smooth; let there be no

prominent point for the eye to rest upon, so that it must necessarily

turn inward, and I will warrant that you will soon have the pleasure of

seeing your victim frantic.' Look well to the temperance trash you

physic us with, and you will find, in the Almanac for 1837, a serious

attempt to make Napoleon Bonaparte out a drunkard, and to prove that a

rum-bottle lost him the battle of Waterloo. The author must himself

have been drunk when he wrote it. Are you not ashamed to set such

pitiful cant, I will not say such wilful falsehood and slander, before

any rational creature? Did you not know that an overcharged gun would

knock the musketeer over by its recoil? I do not tell you to give the

convicts all and any books they may desire; but pray what harm would an

arithmetic do, unless it taught them to refute the statistics of your

lying almanac, which gravely advises farmers to feed their hogs with

apples, to prevent folks from getting drunk on cider? Why not tell them

to feed their cattle with barley and wheat for the same reason? What

mind was ever corrupted by Murray's Grammar, or Washington Irving's

Columbus? When was ever falsehood the successful pioneer of truth!"

His remarks upon visitors being permitted to see the convicts are good.

"Among the annoyances, which others as well as myself felt most galling,

was the frequent intrusion of visitors, who had no object but the

gratification of a morbid curiosity. Know all persons, that the most

debased convict has human feelings, and does not like to be seen in a

parti-coloured jacket. If you want to see any convict for any good

reason, ask the master to let you meet him in his office; and even

there, you may rely upon it, your visit will be painful enough; to be

stared at by the ignorant and the mean with feelings of pity, as if one

were some monster of Ind, was intolerable. I hope a certain connexion

of mine, who came to see me unasked and unwelcome, and brought a

stranger with him to witness my disgrace, may never feel the pain he

inflicted on me. To a kind-hearted `Mac,' who came in a proper and

delicate way to comfort when I thought all the world had forsaken me, I

tender my most grateful thanks. His kindness shall be remembered by me

while memory holds her seat. Let the throng of uninvited fools who

swarmed about us, accept the following sally of the house of correction

muse, from the pen, or rather the fork, of a fellow convict. It may

operate to edification.

"To Our Visitors.

"By gazing at us, sirs, pray what do you mean?

Are we the first rascals that ever were seen?

Look into your mirrors--perhaps you may find

All villains are not in South Boston confined.

"I'm not a wild beast, to be seen for a penny;

But a man, as well made and as proper as any;

And what we most differ in is, well I wot,

That I have my merits, and you have them not.

"I own I'm a drunkard, but much I incline

To think that your elbow crooks as often as mine;

Ay, breathe in my face, sir, as much as you will--

One blast of your breath is as good as a gill.

"How kind was our country to find us a home

Where duns cannot plague us, or enemies come!

And you from the cup of her kindness may drain

A _drop_ so sufficing, you'll not drink again.

"And now that by staring with mouth and eyes open,

We have bruised the reeds that already were broken;

Go home and, by dint of strict mental inspection,

Let each make his own house a house of correction.

"This _morceau_ was signed `Indignans.'"

The following muster-roll of crime, as he terms it, which he obtained

from the master of the prison, is curious, as it exemplifies the excess

of intemperance in the United States--bearing in mind that this is the

_moral_ state of Massachusetts.

"The whole number of males committed to the house of correction from the

time it was opened--July 1st, 1833, to September 1st, 1837,--was 1477.

Of this number there were common drunkards 783, or more than one-half.

"The whole amount of females committed to this institution from the time

it was opened to Sept 1837, was 869. Of this number there were common

drunkards 430, very nearly one-half.

"And of the whole number committed there were--"

+========================+====+===============+====+

YNatives of MassachusettsY 720YEngland Y 104Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YNew Hampshire Y 175YScotland Y 38Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YMaine Y 130YIreland Y 839Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YVermont Y 17YProvinces Y 69Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YRhode Island Y 35YFrance Y 10Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YConnecticut Y 28YSpain Y 2Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YNew York Y 50YGermany Y 2Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YNew Jersey Y 3YHolland Y 2Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YPennsylvania Y 28YPoland Y 2Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YDelaware Y 6YDenmark Y 2Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YMaryland Y 10YPrussia Y 1Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YVirginia Y 20YSweden Y 8Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YNorth Carolina Y 10YWest Indies Y 12Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YSouth Carolina Y 1YCape de Verde Y 1Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YGeorgia Y 5YIsland of MaltaY 1Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YDistrict of Columbia Y 3YAt Sea Y 7Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

Y Y YForeigners Y1100Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YUnited States Y1241YUnknown Y 5Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YMORAL States Y1905Y Y Y

+------------------------+----+---------------+----+

YOther States Y 236YTotal Y2346Y

+========================+====+===============+====+

Diary in America, Series One · 第 69 / 104 题