A Plea for the Prisoner.
IN THE SHADOW OF THE WALL.
BY OLLA F. BEARD.
(The writer of this poem was a personal acquaintance and friend.
At the time the poem was written her father was warden of the
penitentiary at Fort Madison, Iowa, and she took great interest
in his work.--E. R. W.)
Oh, those wond'rous gloomy walls!
What a chill their shadow calls
To creep and tingle through our veins!
Moving all our soul contains
Of pity for the woes within--
Those who move within this pall,
Those who bear a load of sin,
In the shadow of that wall.
Yes, you think their lot is hard;
So do all you can t'retard
Their sad downward course in time,
And save them from a greater crime.
But pause and come with me to view
Various pictures in the hall
Of the innocent and true,
In the shadow of this wall.
There's a mother, good and true,
With a face of palest hue;
Eyes are dimmed and faint to-day,
With their brightness washed away
By the tears she's nightly shed;
Yet she does not fail to call
Blessings on her dear boy's head,
In the shadow of the wall.
There's a father, too, bowed o'er
With age, and his head is hoar.
Ah! it surely broke his heart
With his honored name to part.
Now instead of his boy's arm,
A cane-stalk keeps him from a fall,
As he walks about his farm,
In the shadow of the wall.
There's a wife, too, in the gloom,
Yet within her heart there's room
For the one whose name she bears;
She will share e'en now his cares.
Vows were said to God above,
And, tho' friends forget to call,
She will keep her vow of love,
In the shadow of the wall.
There are children, bright and gay,
Now at school and now at play;
Why do playmates push them off,
Only at their tears to scoff?
Can innocence, then, guilty be?
Why are they shunned, each one and all?
Ah! these children e'en we see,
In the shadow of the wall.
And O, for shame! to scorn some one
For the deed another's done;
For their road is hard at best;
They should never once have guessed,
From the things you do and say,
That you once those facts recall--
How they're living day by day
In the shadow of the wall.
But a word we'd say for him
Who inhabits those walls dim:
Shun him not; help if you can--
Let him try to be a man.
When he's paid now for his sin,
Let not scorn bring other falls,
Just because he once has been
In the shadow of the walls.
He has yet a heart, tho' scarred;
He has yet a soul, tho' marred;
And he has to live and try
Till his time shall come to die.
Sweet Charity, that suffereth long,
Let us now as guard install.
She will lead him from the wrong--
From the shadow of the wall.
We would not pet the sin and crime;
Let reproof fall in its time.
But reproof should have an end,
When the sinner tries to mend!
Give him every chance you can--
Lend a helping hand to all;
Lead the woman or the man
From the shadow of the wall.
A LETTER TO PRISON OFFICERS.
DEAR PRISON MANAGERS: You and I are trying to help the prisoners to a
better life. We want to elevate, to lift up these men and women to a
higher plane of existence. How are you to proceed? What are you to do,
is the question. How are you to command the respect of those under
you? Just where to draw the line, and how to enforce discipline? What
advantage will you give to the men who are striving to obey rules, and
do what is right? Something must be done, and done soon. The criminal
classes must be reached, reformed, saved and sent out of prison better
prepared to face the world and the temptations which will be thrust
upon them at every turn. Great responsibility rests upon you. Many of
you are doing nobly and accomplishing great good.
There is hope for every prisoner. You can reach them by kindness.
Brutality will never accomplish anything in the way of prison reform.
By such a course a man is often turned out of prison a demon, a fiend
in human form, or an idiotic criminal.
But to make him a good man, a noble creature, as God intended he
should be, he must have kindness shown him. Be _firm_ and _honorable_
in all your dealings with the convict, for he has his rights, and they
should be respected if we are ever going to make the prison world
better.
Let us ask God for help to know how to reach the manhood, the
womanhood, the better nature in the creature God has seen fit in His
wise providence to make just a little lower than the angels, in His
own likeness and image. He intended all should be free and equal, but
the people license the saloon, the gambling den and the brothel to
degrade their brothers and sisters. Some say these are necessary
evils! I say never, never! Let there be better conditions.
There is hope for the sinner if we only get the Holy Spirit to teach
us how to reach him. I never go into the presence of convicts without
earnest prayer to God to give me wisdom, and the Holy Spirit to teach
and guide me what to say and sing, and how to reach their hearts. God
has given me what success I have had in helping the criminal classes,
in giving hope to the discouraged and in relieving the minds of some
who were partially deranged. Oh, this wholesale slaughter of men's
minds! It is horrible. It is heart-rending. And yet some go right on
committing the greatest crime against these men, by robbing them of
their reason which God intended them to enjoy as their birthright.
Which is the greater crime, the whipping post and the lash with all
their attendant horrors and misery, or the iron rule that crushes out
all hope in the name of discipline? I believe in law and order, and
that men must be in subjection to rules and regulations. I always urge
upon them implicit obedience and subjection to the rules of the
prison. But these should be reasonable and humane.
What you and I need is to know our man and then we will know how to
deal with him. Study human nature as well as the law, and study the
law of the all-wise God in the Bible and see if you will not have a
clear conscience as well as a clear brain to manage and control those
under your direction.
I know prisons that are regulated entirely by kindness, and oh, the
blessed, restful, quieting influence there is there, and scarcely any
insane. All are satisfied with the treatment they receive and they are
willing to die for their officers. I know these things, for I am
behind the scenes.
After long years of service as a prison missionary, in nearly all the
state prisons in all the states and territories, I find only an ever
increasing desire to be a worker together with Christ in reaching the
masses of prisoners who are incarcerated in our state, county and city
prisons. My success has largely been due to my sincere and intense
desire to lead them to a better life here and life eternal in heaven,
and to the victory gained over myself to never let anything or anybody
prevent my doing all I could for the prisoner, as if he were my own
child or brother. Again, my determination has been to give all a fair
trial and a liberal amount of confidence. Yes, we must place ourselves
in their condition; let our boy or brother, our mother or sister be in
prison, let us think how we would exercise every means we had in
reaching or relieving them.
All prisoners are human, and yet, how few professors of religion show
interest in them. They are doubted at every turn. Daggers are driven
to hearts which are longing for a better life, a purer atmosphere, a
new creation. Poor souls! God pity them. O the hearts that cry out for
better things! the souls that are yearning for the good and true! O
the thousands of prisoners who may be diamonds in the rough, jewels
for whom Christ died. Souls, immortal souls are at stake. We must soon
meet these things at the judgment. O to be clear of the censure, the
rebuke, the reproof of God Almighty in the final day of accounts.
O brother, sister, have we had charity that suffereth long and is
kind? Have we tried by example and precept to show the criminals that
we were really their friends and sincerely cared for their souls? How
long has the good Lord borne with us, and shall we not be in earnest
to save those who are not Christians, to encourage them to a better
life, to cheer up the dying convict, to show them there is a God in
Israel who hears and answers prayer, one who said, "Like as a father
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him"?
WORTH WHILE.
It is easy enough to be pleasant
When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is the one who will smile
When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praise of the earth
Is the smile that shines through tears.
It is easy enough to be prudent
When nothing tempts you to stray;
When without or within no voice of sin
Is luring your soul away.
But it is only a negative virtue
Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honor of earth
Is the one that resisteth desire.
By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
Who had no strength for the strife,
The world's highway is cumbered to-day;
They make up the item of life.
But the virtue that conquers passion,
And the sorrow that hides in a smile--
It is these that are worth the homage of earth,
For we find them but once in a while.
--ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
PREJUDICE.
I find but little difference between humanity in prison walls and the
humanity outside. Prisoners are our brothers and our sisters. We must
soon meet them all at the judgment. They are naturally supposed to be
guilty of crime of some kind. But they are not all criminals. Wicked
men, willing to shield themselves, oftentimes throw suspicion on
others, who are placed under arrest and convicted by circumstantial
evidence or false testimony. Others, of course, are of the worst types
of humanity. Some of them seem unworthy of the name of man or woman,
yet even these Christ died to save, and God is able to deliver them
and how shall His name be better glorified or His power be more
manifest, than in their transformation?
Very many are so prejudiced against all those who are counted as
criminals that they believe them to be utterly incapable of any good
and are quick to believe that they see in them evidences of the
deepest depravity.
A sad yet amusing illustration of this fact comes to my mind. Chaplain
H., of the Reformatory for Boys at Kearney, Nebraska, is an
honest-faced, true-hearted young man, full of zeal in the service of
God. At one time when I stopped at Kearney he called for me at the
train. As I looked at him he said, with a smile, "Did you think it was
one of the boys whom the superintendent had sent for you?" I replied,
"Yes; I did at first; you are so young, Mr. Chaplain;" and then he
related to me the following circumstances which I give as nearly as I
can in his own words:
"At one time Prof. Mallalieu and myself had been to Lincoln on
business, and were returning together. We were quietly resting,
and I was sitting with closed eyes, meditating, when a lady
happened along and recognized the Superintendent, and said 'Have
you got a boy there, taking him to the Reform Schools?'
"Considerably amused, he replied: 'Yes; this is a very bad
fellow; I have had a lot of trouble with him, and have just
recaptured him, and now I am watching to see that he doesn't make
his escape.' The woman leaned over and, scanning my face and
features, said: 'He has an awful bad look on his face; you can
see he is a criminal and needs to be under strict discipline.'"
The dear young chaplain said, as he laughingly related this instance,
that he learned a lesson in human nature that day. That woman, who
imagined that she saw in the face of that young looking, honest,
devoted Christian young man evidences of guilt and depravity, was only
one among thousands who are led by prejudice when they imagine that
they are exercising great discernment.
A LOOK INTO THE CELL.
Reader, could you and I walk together down the cell-house corridor in
almost any of our large prisons, at almost any hour of the night and
pause and listen to the sighs and smothered sobs and often to the deep
groans that might be heard welling up from hearts that are broken and
crushed by sorrow and remorse; could we, dear reader, cast one
sidelong glance in passing the rounds of the cell-house with the
guard, who, with muffled tread wends his ceaseless march throughout
the night, your heart, as well as mine, would be deeply moved. On
those stone floors, guarded by double locks and iron bars, as well as
by the living sentinel, you might see many a mother's boy kneeling in
silent prayer to his mother's God, and as he prays and communes with
his own thoughts, you might hear again the groans of anguish as the
poor unfortunate thinks of home and mother, wife and children, or
other loved ones.
Then look with me into that poor man's cell, void of comfort, with
nothing that would remind you of home; a close narrow cell, a poor
hard cot, a straw pillow, if any, and kept under strict watch day and
night; left many times without one ray of hope, without a gleam of
sunshine or a kind word. I wonder there are not scores of insane men
in our state prisons for every one that we find, and there are many,
very many, who are either partially or entirely insane. I am convinced
that oftentimes men are crazy when the officers suppose they are only
obstinate and rebellious and mean. Often do I note insanity lurking in
the eyes and often as the prisoners file past me at the close of a
service and I clasp each one by the hand, as is my custom, among the
many who are so glad to have a kind word and a hand-clasp at parting I
notice those who are not sane by the peculiarity of the clasp of the
hand. Some have a clasp like a mad-man, others a limp, lifeless
hand-shake, with cold, clammy hands. Oh, what wisdom is needed to know
how to deal with these poor, helpless souls! I find many of them with
hearts as tender and sensibilities as acute as any I meet outside.
INSANE PRISONERS.
While I was having a service for the criminal insane at Anamosa,
Iowa, state prison, a young man was very anxious to see me and tell me
something. As I waited to talk with him he said to me in _such a
pitiful way_, "Go and tell my dear mother I will try to help her.
Won't somebody help my poor mother?" This was the burden of his heart.
Poor boy! in his partial derangement his whole concern seemed to be
for her. He is only one among many!
[Illustration: WITH INSANE PRISONERS AT ANAMOSA, IOWA.]
A TOUCHING INCIDENT.
At one time I was on the train going north from Indianapolis. My
brother, J. M. Ryder, was with me. I was singing a hymn, and walking
to the end of the car as I sang I saw two men bound together by
handcuffs. One of them I supposed to be an officer. He was a fine
looking man, well dressed. It was a few days before Christmas, but I
noticed some holly-berries pinned to his coat. I remarked, "You have
holly-berries before Christmas day!" With tears rolling down his face
he answered, "My little girl pinned this on me. She said, 'Papa, you
will not be here when Christmas comes, and I will pin it on now before
you go.'"
I said, "You are an officer, are you not?"
"Oh, no!" he said, "I am a prisoner," and then he told me his sad
story. Money belonging to some one else, a relative, if I remember
rightly, had been left in his care. Under pressure of need he used
some of it, being confident that he could replace it before it was
needed; but the shortage was discovered, he was arrested, found guilty
and sentenced. With a broken heart he said, "I never will live to
serve out my sentence. This will surely kill me. I am not a thief, but
I was so sure I could replace the money before it was needed."
Reader, think you this man was any more a criminal at heart than
thousands who move among men honored and respected? Who can question
that there are thousands who, perhaps, do not transgress the letter of
the law, yet more deliberately and wilfully wrong their fellow men
than this poor man? And this case is only one of many; and where shall
we draw the line? Oh, let us have fervent charity one for another.
I am not biased in my judgment. I know sentimentalism is not
salvation. That can come only through true repentance and faith in God
and must be evidenced by restitution and good works; but if you could
see, as I have seen, the meetings in the prison guard-room between
husband and wife, mother and son, or between father and his wayward
boy, if you could see the tears and sobs as they meet and part, and
above all at the last parting before execution, I believe you would
never feel like criticising or being harsh in your judgment again.
Could you have gone with me during these twenty years, could you have
had the confidence of these prisoners as I have had it, you would
realize that they are, in very many cases, as truly open to conviction
and as easily reached as those outside of prison walls, and are they
not my children? Do I not know their faults? Do they not confess to me
their guilt? But back of all I see Jesus hanging on the cross of
Calvary, between two thieves, dying, and in His death agony, while the
blood is oozing from the print of the thorns upon His brow, while the
eyes are growing glassy in death, with the cold death sweat standing
out upon His face, I hear Him say to the penitent thief, "This day
shalt thou be with me in Paradise." And again, as He remembers all
those who have so cruelly wronged Him, he cries, "Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do." If the Son of God gave Himself
for us, if with His dying breath He prayed for His persecutors, if He
who knew no sin and understood all hearts could say, "They know not
what they do," God help us to be willing to forgive those who have
transgressed the law either of God or man.
These prisoners need a helping hand, need a friend with wisdom, tact
and judgment, one in whose heart there is the one thought above all
others of the need of their immortal souls, their eternal destiny.
You and I, reader, must do our part in reforming a lost world, in
saving lost sinners. Then let us remember how good God has been to us
by keeping us out of prison, by keeping us out of the evil
surroundings and influences that might have brought us there. Let us
give the poor prisoners a fair show and fair play. Many of them long
for better things, for one more chance to prove themselves worthy of
the confidence and sympathy of their fellow men. After twenty years of
toil among those who are bound, I do bless God that He ever called me
to carry to those in prison the glad message of His love and seek by
love and faith and prayer to lift them up to better things.
PREPARED TO DIE.
Once while holding services in a prison, there came to me a prisoner
saying, "Mother, I want to tell you I was saved since I saw you."
(Only a few days previous.)
Then he told me that he was under sentence of death and that he was so
troubled that he cried to God to forgive his sins and pardon his
crime, and that God had forgiven him and that he was now prepared to
die. He said that when the Lord forgave him he was so happy that the
officers put an extra guard over him, thinking that he had suddenly
lost his mind.
I exhorted him to maintain his faith in God and never doubt His saving
power; to walk softly before God; to keep humble and meek and pray
much. Truly there is pardon for every sinner who, in the depths of his
soul, repents of his sin. God's love and power are so great that He
will save to the uttermost all that come unto Him, not willing that
any should perish.
Reader, perhaps you have not the opportunity to know these souls as I
know them, and so to help you understand them I give in other chapters
many extracts in their own words, taken here and there from the
thousands of letters I have received. I believe this will help you to
understand that hundreds, shut out from the companionship of their
fellow beings, are as easily moved by kindness, as capable of
gratitude, as easily won to repentance, as willing to give up sin, as
thousands of those outside, who perhaps have never been tempted as
they were tempted and have never fallen as they have fallen. In
quoting from these letters few changes have been made, except in
spelling, capitalization and punctuation.
Some young souls are making, for a stated time,
This, their maiden effort, on the sea of crime.
Oh, Christians, teach them early what to me is plain;
Crime ever _has_ and ever _will_ result in lasting pain.
Do not be _too_ lenient, nor _too_ soon forgive,
Lest all _vice_ should flourish and no _virtue_ live.
Society demands it, the _guilty_ should atone--
But take care you punish those, and those _alone_!
Keep them in your prison till by _virtue_ shown
They will know what _is_ and what is _not_ their own.
But let all be careful lest by _word_ or _act_
Those who should _reform_ them from their _good_ subtract.
Rule them wisely, gently--by some _humane_ plan,
All their faults to conquer as best becomes a Man.
When your work is finished and their habits changed,
Give them honest labor, by the State arranged;
Show them honest labor _can_ a living gain,
While the _social outcast_ harvests _want_ and _shame_!
Treat them fairly, kindly; teach them all the true
Will be friendly with them while _the right_ they do.
Both principle and policy declare this course is wise;
Then why longer act the fool and wisdom's voice despise?
Crime never _can_ nor _will_ decrease until in _Wisdom's School_
Men learn the noted lesson, "Right _through_ Law should Rule."
--_H. P. McKnight._
[Illustration: PRISONERS MARCHING.]