Until 1821, no compensation was allowed the prisoners for what they
did over their task. In that year, a regulation was made, granting
_one cent_ per yard for all that might be done over _ten_ yards per
day in the summer, and _eight_ in the winter, to be paid in goods out
of the store, or money, at the option of the Superintendent.
This was thought by many to be a very _unequal_ regulation. The
average profit to the Institution of every yard of cloth that was
woven, could not have been less than _four cents_; and as the
prisoners must do their full task before they could derive any benefit
from the regulation, it was thought that they should have _all_ that
they earned over it. The language of the regulation, fairly
interpreted, seemed to be this--_Give me four cents in cash, and I
will give you an order on the store for one!_ It assumed to be a very
merciful provision for the prisoners, but it was like the mercies of
the wicked--"_cruel_." Every man of any just principles, who has no
interest to warp his judgment, will at once admit, that the prisoners
ought to have had all the avails of their overwork. But anyone can see
that the interest of the prisoners was not consulted at all in the
regulation. The design of it was to get as much work done as possible,
and the _one cent_ was only a bait.
That I have not erred in stating the design of the Superintendent, in
his regulations for overwork, to be his own benefit, and not that of
the prisoners, is very evident from his conduct in relation to those
who complied with them. He would not pay money except at his own
option, but paid out of the stores; and to induce the prisoners to do
overwork, and take their pay in trifles, he permitted them to purchase
almost any thing they wished, and very many articles which had never
been allowed them before. He even went so far as to bring into the
weave-shops specimens of very gay handkerchiefs, and carry them along
in sight of the prisoners to tempt them to earn some. This had its
desired effect, and handkerchiefs soon became very plenty. But the
worst of all was, the extravagant prices demanded for all articles
sent to the prison. One of the keepers told me that he could take the
money and purchase things for a quarter less than the prisoners gave.
After my release I went into different stores in the village, and
ascertained that I had been charged a very high price indeed for what
I had purchased.
Another expedient to get work out of the prisoners, was the offering
of _bounties_ to those who should weave the most yards in six months.
This created a spirit of emulation, and drew forth miracles of
industry. I took one of these prizes, but I shall have to regret till
my dying hour that I ever entered that race. I feel the effects of it,
at times, in every part of my system.
As soon as the prisoners began, _generally_, to enlist in the
overwork, they began to be charged for things that were furnished to
them before without pay. If they broke any thing, or did the least
damage to their tools, in a way that was deemed _careless_, they had
to pay for it. Handkerchiefs which were furnished gratis, before, they
had now to pay for. And every expedient that avarice could devise was
practiced, to make the prisoners' accounts against the Institution as
small as possible.
I consider the regulations for overwork as the spawn of a most miserly
disposition. There was no benevolence in it. If the good of the
convicts had been the object of it, there would have been no "_one
cent a yard paid out of the store_," but the full amount of the extra
labor, paid in money; and the entire plan would have endured a close
examination in day light. There would have been no mean taxing for
accidents and trifles--no paying in gewgaws--no extravagant prices;
but all things would have been as indicative of pity and good will to
the wretched, as they now are of self-interest and steel hearted
avarice. And the benefits of the regulation would have been
_equalized_, so that a man who had not so good a _faculty_ as another,
would not have been deprived of them. Some men had power to do twice
as much as some others, and _they_ could derive some advantage, while
the others could not, though both were equally deserving of favors; so
that the Superintendent's regulation was very similar to Calvin's
irrespective decrees and partial election.
But faulty as the principles of the _one cent_ system were, some good
certainly grew out of it. It is a bad system, indeed, that has
_nothing_ good in it. But the _good_ was much more than balanced by
the _evil_. It ruined many a constitution; sent more than _one_ man
prematurely to the grave; and laid up for _all_, the pains of
infirmity and old age.
This sketch shows on what principle the prison is conducted. There may
be many _minor_ principles. Of these the _reformation_ of the
prisoners may be a fraction. Their punishment may be a _unit_. But the
major point of all is, PECUNIARY ADVANTAGE. The interest of the
captives is not a _grain_ in the calculations of the prison. If they
live, they live, and if they die, they die. But living or dead, sick
or well, sinning or praying, saved or lost, they are estimated in
pounds, shillings, and pence, and one farthing would turn the scale of
their destiny to heaven or hell.
How true is the language of the poet--"There is no flesh in man's
obdurate heart!--It does not feel for man." And surely the morals of
mankind must have reached a dreadful climax, when even ministers of
justice deserve heavier blows than they inflict, and the seraph
accents of mercy are turned into the war whoop of death.