There was a small bell hung directly over my head; the wire from it
reached into the men's prison. It was rung by the watchman at four
o'clock in the morning, to call me up.
I sprang out of bed at the first tinkle, threw a shawl around me, put my
feet into my slippers, ran down, unlocked my steam woman to make her
fire, and my cook to start her breakfast. I let them into the kitchen,
and locked them in. Then, I went back to dress myself.
Up, up, over the five flights, past the grated doors, over the stone
walks. The air of that prison sent a chill over me like that of a tomb.
Were not those cells the tomb of love, of hope, of peace, and
respectability! In them lay buried all of this world's success, all that
it values: how much of the inheritance of the life to come God knows.
Those black doors were a pall of disgrace of deeper dye than that which
covers the coffin with its lifeless clay. I was chilled through and
through by my thoughts and the objects that engendered them. And those
objects were to be ever there before my sight, while I remained in
prison, and those thoughts must ever arise to be my company. I could
escape; no prison bar was slid upon me to keep me there; but the
convicts _must_ remain. The unyielding lock, the unremitting toil, the
pursuing regret, and the torture of remorse were before them, upon them,
within them.
I might be able to speak to them a word of pity, of hope in a better
life to come. The thought gave me courage to go to my day's work.
I took no unnecessary time for personal adorning; but my fingers were
benumbed and moved slowly. I had scarcely finished dressing when the
"first bell" rung.
That was the large bell in the yard that called all of the prisoners
from their beds.
At that signal I was to assist in unlocking the rest of the women. If
they were not out of their beds when the key was put in the lock, they
were called to sharply by the Matron who was with me--
"Come, get up! How dare you lie there after the first bell has rung!"
It might prove necessary to talk to some laggards in that harsh way; but
I would try some other method, with those of whom I had the care, first.
Yawning, and groaning, and moaning, they dragged themselves out of their
beds and made them up. After this was done they tied them up against the
wall with a cord which was attached to the iron bars upon which the bed
rested, and then passed over a hook in the side of the cell. Then, they
stood waiting for the second bell, which was the signal for them to go
to work.
Poor, pitiable objects, they looked, as they were mustered for the long
day's drill of thankless, unrequited toil. They worked without a motive,
and they went to it with listless indifference, or the sullen
determination to escape all of the task which they could. They
accomplished their work as it was driven from them; not by the lash, but
by fear of passing the night upon the bare iron bars of their bed-frame;
or the stone floor of the solitary cell, without covering beside their
ordinary dress, without food, save the daily slice of bread and quart of
cold water.
Between the ringing of the bells the unlocking had been accomplished.
One of the sweeps was stationed at the end of the upper tier of cells.
When the second bell rung I called to her,--
"Slide your bar!"
The long bar that runs across the top of all the cells of one division,
with a bolt reaching down over each door to keep it shut when it is
unlocked, was then drawn out by her, so that the doors could be opened.
I then called,--
"Third Division!"
At that they all appeared at their doors.