Liberty's Prisoners. Jen Manion

by but rather invoked the authority of enlightened justice to reassert hierarchy and order. They used punishment to classify and segregate people along lines of difference—crime, class, gender, race, and age—in order to identify those who might one day stand as citizens if properly reformed.

      Women were both marginal and yet immensely important figures in this process. In 1784, President of the Pennsylvania Supreme Executive Council John Dickinson argued that punishments in general should be “less severe” for everyone than previously enforced under British rule, but especially those “inflicted upon women.”⁴ In 1785, public debate over the role of punishment in society focused on the plight of one particular woman—Eleanor Glass. She caught the eye of a member of the Pennsylvania grand jury who visited the county jail. He was outraged that people convicted of minor offenses and unable to pay their fees might face indefinite confinement.⁵ The juror felt that Glass—a white woman—was being cruelly incarcerated beyond reason and endured great suffering that was more than any person should bear. Glass’s case was part of a larger debate about punishment in the young nation. Women—and ideas about them—played a crucial role in the social and political life of the early republic.⁶

      Eleanor Glass was no republican mother; nor were the thousands of women whose lives serve as the basis for this book.⁷ Glass and women like her stand at the center of the evolving story of the impact of the post-Revolutionary expansion of punishment on the lives of the poor. Her situation was not terribly unusual for the anonymous and forgotten masses that lived beyond the borders marked for citizens in the new republic. She was convicted of assault and battery on another woman, Mrs. Evitt, and fined six pence. Glass was confined to the prison because she could pay neither the fine nor the court fees. The juror noted that Glass’s case was “unparalleled” and that through the denial of her liberty, the “rights of human nature [were] villainously violated.”⁸ Accusations that punishment violated human rights would quickly fade away in the coming years as the orderly, controlled penitentiary became the premier emblem of American democracy.⁹ Glass and others like her became liberty’s prisoners.

      The cultivation of sensibility was at the heart of the refinement of punishment, much as it was to the entire nation-building project.¹⁰ The language of feeling helped early Americans distance themselves from British barbarity. The juror who wrote on behalf of Glass described her situation as something that should “Excite our commiseration, abhorrence, and contempt.”¹¹ In doing so, he focused not on questions of legality but on the emotions her situation compelled him to feel. Feelings were fragile—and could be manipulated. In the outcry over Glass, others took a less sympathetic approach, blaming Glass for her own troubles and warning the public not to worry about her. Under the pen name Veritas, one man wrote, “There was no danger that a stroller, without home and without character, (and such she appeared to be) would be injured in her morals by remaining in goal.”¹² Writing for those aspiring to cultivate their humanitarian sensibilities, Veritas explained his aim was to prevent unnecessary worry or concern on the part of the “generous public, whose feelings are always roused by a tale of inhumanity and distress.” He rejected the idea that Glass was mistreated in any way, and felt the other juror’s letter would elicit inappropriate compassion, concern, and sympathy on the part of the public. The struggle to determine the line between reasonable and excessive feeling as well as appropriate and misdirected compassion defined both penal reform and masculinity. The expansion of punishment was not a cold, calculated gesture of distant hands but rather a messy, intimate, and contested process that unfolded over time. Reformers, judges, Inspectors, and lawyers enjoyed the highly charged and emotional meetings they had with society’s most vulnerable women, as it enabled them to recalibrate the tension and reach of patriarchal authority into something more elastic and broadly shared—appropriate for democracy.¹³

      This diverse group of elite white men had a great deal at stake in reestablishing social order and hierarchy in the aftermath of the American Revolution. By defining themselves against an increasingly vocal and growing group of others—free blacks, laborers, immigrants, and women—they aspired to define an American national identity with themselves at the center.¹⁴ But men from diverse social ranks would also publicly jockey with each other for power and authority. From the attorney general to one of the nameless prison guards, accusations of incompetence, wrongdoing, or inhumanity were never more than a turn of the newspaper page away. In the public discussion of the Glass case, two other members of the 1785 grand jury, Francis Wade and Francis Gurney, felt the need to defend the attorney general, William Bradford. They asserted that the problems discovered by the grand jury in prison were “not owing to a want of attention or humanity” on his part. They also defended the keeper in his decision not to put Glass forward for a pardon.¹⁵ Guards, keepers, reformers, Inspectors, judges, and jurors would all be subjects of praise and contempt, sometimes unexpectedly, as the rules and expectations for punishment changed.

      The burgeoning press played a vital role in publicizing these controversies. The official report of this grand jury was overseen by chief justice of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, Thomas McKean, and published alongside the letters. It called for the introduction of public punishment for prisoners as a way for them to earn money to pay off fines and fees.¹⁶ The first great wave of penal reform began in publications like the Freeman’s Journal, the Pennsylvania Packet, and the Pennsylvania Gazette, which brought the question of incarceration and human rights to early national audiences. The press thrust questions of punishment and democracy onto the table: What was the purpose of punishment? To which class of prisoners should it be tailored? Could labor be used to generate revenue in punishment? Should those unable to pay fees be pardoned? Would women be disciplined and punished in the same ways as men, or be judged with consideration of their sex? How could one system produce diverse and at times competing aims, such as reform, deterrence, punishment, justice, and profit? Women occupied a central place in these debates, yet have been overlooked by generations of historians. The question of women’s role in punishment is a significant one, tied to nothing less than the question of women’s place in the nation.

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      The refinement and expansion of punishment has been the focus of many important historical studies.¹⁷ Once celebrated as the pinnacle of Enlightenment thought, the penitentiary has been exposed as a powerful tool of social and individual manipulation.¹⁸ Historian David Rothman’s classic study The Discovery of the Asylum placed the penitentiary alongside the poorhouse, hospital, and asylum on a continuum of institutions that advanced the state’s effort to establish order and assert greater social control in the unstable decades of the early nineteenth century. His critical approach to institutions designed by well-intended reformers—and long heralded as safety nets for the sick and poor—laid the foundation for numerous studies to follow. Foucault’s sweeping treatise Discipline and Punish identified the ever more subtle mechanisms of control and punishment that came into fashion, culminating in the development of a hardened “criminal identity” for those imprisoned.¹⁹ The prison became a brilliant companion to industrialization, training the ordered, disciplined workforce that the economy required.²⁰ Democracy and its promise of freedom and justice required the right kind of punishment—a context in which the denial of liberty made perfect sense.²¹ The rise of a liberal political ideology and the growth of institutional disciplinary regimes fueled each other. Isolating the guilty from society became the only way to ensure that neither innocent citizens nor the broader aims of justice would be corrupted.²² Together, these studies show how in the span of just two generations, from the 1790s to the 1830s, social, political, and economic forces together transformed punishment from a public spectacle into a private one; from a corporal experience into a spiritual one; from a one-time event into a period of time in one’s life.

      Ideas about race, gender, and sexuality—long neglected from serious examination in studies of the penitentiary’s nascent years—were central, driving forces in the transformation of punishment. As an intersectional study of crime, this book helps us to better understand who was in prison, why, and what impact this had on the development of the penitentiary. Punishment was defined in relation to and on the backs of a diverse and motley crew of both male and female European immigrants, laboring poor Irish and Anglo-Americans, and African