The Governor and Council have the power of granting pardons, and once
in every year they meet to attend to this and other duties assigned
them by the Constitution. The prisoner who hopes to share in their
mercy, procures petitions from his friends and former acquaintances in
his behalf, and causes them, with his own petition, to be laid before
them at their annual meeting. The principal officer of the prison has
been generally depended upon to lay the petitions before the Governor
and Council; but the conduct of this officer has so far failed to
place him in the confidence of the prisoners, that they never trust
their cases in his hands, if they can get any one else to attend to
them. The common opinion is, that he is never willing to let a
prisoner go who is any profit to the Institution; and for this opinion
there is as much evidence as there is that a merchant never wishes to
lose a good customer, or a doctor to hasten the cure of a rich
patient. I was more confirmed in this opinion after my release than I
had been before. A friend of mine who had been for several years, and
was then, a member of the Legislature, told me that the fall before,
he called on the principal officer of the prison to get my petition,
and be prepared to lay my case before the pardoning authority, and was
told by him that I "_had not petitioned_." When my friend told me this
I was thunderstruck. That officer _knew_ that I had petitioned, for I
conversed with him on the subject, and gave the petition into his
hand; and he informed me when he returned, that he laid it before the
Governor and Council, and told me some of the observations that were
made upon it. What shocked me the most was the _hypocrisy_ of the man.
He had professed to be my friend--and was a member of a christian
church; and yet he was so unwilling to lose my _labour_, that he
prevented the interposition of my friend for my release. I have the
most unshaken confidence in the veracity of my friend; he could not
have been mistaken, and he had no motive to misrepresent. This fact is
directly to the point. It speaks a great deal. And it shews _why_ the
prisoners are not willing to trust their cases to the officers of the
prison.
It is a fact, and I wish to have it known, that it is very difficult
for a prisoner who is any profit to the Institution to get a pardon. I
will not pretend to _apply_ the fault, but I know the fact; and hence
some of the convicts, acting on the base principle of opposing craft
to craft, and returning evil for evil, render themselves of as little
use as possible. It has become a proverb in the prison, that a good
weaver is sure to be kept as long as he is able to weave. This proverb
is inscribed on the facts that transpire every fall, and it ought to
find a humbling and condemning application somewhere.
Deprived thus of all confidence in their keepers, the petitioners, who
have the means, generally call to their assistance some of the lawyers
in the village. These men are always ready to work for cash; and when
they know that their assistance can be of no service, they will take
from a prisoner those very dollars which he has ruined his health and
destroyed his constitution to earn. Like blood suckers, a few of them
gather around the prisoners every pardoning time, and carry off all
the money that the poor creatures have been able to scrape together.
Now I find no fault with these lawyers, for such is their trade; but I
condemn the authority for permitting them to practice on the credulity
of the captives, and trick them out of their hard earned dollars. It
is a libel on the principles of the Governor and Council to suppose
that _such_ lawyers can plead them into the exercise of mercy. They
know what some of that profession will do for money, and there is no
instance in which they have been of any real service to their clients
in the prison, in applications for pardon. The Executive meet to
decide from _facts_, and these facts should come to them from the
authority of the prison, and from other sources. The authority of the
prison ought to do its duty, and secure the confidence of the
prisoners; and thus prevent the unprincipled and avaricious
interference of these lawyers. I do not mean to reflect _generally_,
on the profession of the law. There are in that bright array of
learning and talent, as many high, noble, and ethereal spirits as any
other profession can boast of--_and some of the meanest souls that
ever lived_.
There is but one general rule, according to which all pardons should
be granted, and this rule is JUSTICE. It may be just to pardon one man
and not another; and if it is right on any account to pardon one man,
it is right to pardon _all_ who are in the same circumstances--indeed
it would be criminal _not_ to. Justice holds an even scale. So does
_mercy_, which is only that exercise of justice, which relates to the
_wretched_. And the reason why one man should be pardoned and another
not, is, that, according to all the facts in the two cases, community
would be safe in the pardon of _that_ man, but not of _this_. The
design of all punishment should be the reformation of the sufferer.
When this is presumptively effected, the object is attained, and all
further suffering for the crime from the hand of the law, would be
purely vindictive, and infernally cruel. This is the _only_ principle
on which _God_ punishes; and hence _endless_ punishment under his
government, and all _capital_ punishments by human laws, would be
equally unjust and inconsistent. In this respect, men often err, but
God never can; and human laws will not be perfect until they abolish
capital punishments and chastise only to reform.
If this principle had been acted upon in the Windsor Prison, many
years of suffering would have been spared to human hearts, and many a
soul would have gone with less guilt to judgment. That prison is
called a _Penitentiary_.--As properly might _hell_ be called _heaven_.
The spirit of the penitentiary system finds there no place to lay its
head. Not the _reformation_ of the convicts is sought, but their
_earnings_; and they are treated just as an intelligent but heartless
slave-holder would treat his negroes--made to work as long as they can
earn their living, and then cursed with freedom that they may die on
their own expense. The keepers lay it down as an axiom in their
practice, that it is impossible to reform a prisoner. Perhaps they
will admit that God could do it, and I cheerfully agree with them that
none but He can reform a sinner after he has fallen into their hands.
And it is equally plain to my mind, that nothing _less_ than
omnipotent power will ever reform _them_.