Some of the prisoners have the means of dressing themselves decently
when they leave the prison, and of living till they can find
employment; but the greater part of them go away from that place in
very mean clothing, and with not a dollar in their pockets. In this
situation they are turned loose upon the world, often far from their
friends, and not a soul to apply to for assistance. They cannot get
into work any where, for they carry "the mark of the BEAST," not only
"in their foreheads," but "on the borders of their garments," and
every body shuns them. They have no money, and consequently they must
either _beg_, or _steal_. Nor are they _moral agents_ in this case;
_necessity_ is laid upon them and they _must_ do it. The
Superintendent said the same to me once when we were conversing on
this subject. "If they do not get into employment within three days
from their leaving the prison," said he, "which is next to impossible,
they must either beg, steal, or die."--Is it not a pity that this man
did not do something for the benefit of those who were going out into
such a probation as would try the integrity of a saint? especially
when the government authorised him to?
One reason why the convicts leave the prison in such a shabby dress,
is, that no care is taken with the clothes that are worn thither; all
the garments which the prisoners wear to the prison, are thrown
together in a garret, and left for the moths to prey upon. By this
means the poor garments become worse, and many that were excellent are
destroyed; so that when the owners have occasion to wear them again,
they are good for nothing. Even new garments which the prisoners
purchase while there, are often so much neglected as to be greatly
injured, and sometimes nearly spoiled. And some valuable articles,
such as boots, hats, and vests, have been lost through the
carelessness of the keepers. In these things, however, there has been
some reform of late, and I hope it will be carried through.
Another reason why _some_ of the prisoners fare no better when they
leave the prison, is, that some one of the keepers has a _spite_ to
gratify, and he takes this opportunity, not only because it is the
last, but because it best suits the malignity of his purpose.
I have seen some leave the prison in the winter, with thin summer
garments; some without a hat; and many scores who were not fit to be
seen with a company of _colliers_. They had served their time out in a
_penitentiary_; but their appearance was enough to demonstrate to all
that saw them, that they had been under the care of _im_penitent
keepers. They went out among human beings, but like him who went down
from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves, both the _priest_
and the _Levite_ shunned them, and they were not often fortunate
enough to be noticed by a SAMARITAN. The truth of the case is, the law
in this particular is faulty. No man ought ever to be turned out upon
society as these prisoners are. If they deserve to be free, give them
a freedom suit, and money to get into business; but if they do not,
keep them till they do. Give a man a fair chance to become honest, and
not place his principles where Gabriel's would be polluted. If men
desire to make sinners better, let them help them to reform, and not
place them under a _necessity_ to do wrong. Let there be an adherence
to principle, and if punishment is to be under the government of
mercy, let it be merciful throughout; but if it is not designed to
reform, then say so--write your laws in blood--catch every criminal
you can, and either hang him or shut him up for life. Let there be
consistency between principle and conduct, and if it is the purpose of
the law to make its ministers furies, let them not be clothed as
angels of light.
This neglect of the prisoner when he is released, is the great cause
of so many re-commitments, either to the _same_, or other prisons. The
man is unable to get into employment. He reads scorn in every eye. He
has no clothes fit to wear. He has no home, nor pillow to lay his head
on. He spends his days on the highway, and his nights in the field or
in some barn. He has not a crust of bread to satisfy the imperious
demands of hunger. He drinks the running brook. His spirits sink down.
He is a stranger in his own country, and a hermit in the midst of
society. He is starving in the midst of plenty. Uncared for by others,
he forgets all care about himself. Worse off he cannot be, he may be
better. He has nothing to lose, and any change must be in his favour.
He puts forth exertion and cares not how the experiment results. Look
at this man. Is not his situation almost an excuse for any thing he
may do? Place yourself there, and conjecture how _you_ would act. What
_can_ he do? What could an _angel_ do in his circumstances? Here, you
who would trace second offences to their cause, here is the reason why
so many return to their former abodes. Where, I ask, is the mercy of a
penitentiary, which treats its subjects thus? Don't say that they
could get into employment. They could not. Would you employ a man so
meanly clothed, that he was not fit to tend your hogs, and whose every
appearance told you he had either been released from state prison, or
broken out of gaol? You would not. Neither would your neighbours. What
then could he do? Let the benevolent think of this, and act
accordingly. That is not benevolence which sits by the sufferer only
to rivet his chains, and leaves him when it can torment him no more.
This penitentiary is like the thieves who fell upon the traveller to
Jericho, it strips its victims of their raiment, and leaves them half
dead.