Dedication of New Chapel
On our arrival at Aylesbury Prison there was no chapel. Divine service was held in one of the halls, in which the prisoners assembled each morning for twenty minutes of service. This arrangement had many disadvantages, and one of the ladies on the Board of Visitors came nobly to our relief with an offer to provide the prison with a chapel. The Home Office “graciously” accepted this generous proposition, and twelve months later it was completed and dedicated by the Lord Bishop of Reading. (It was burned to the ground since my departure from Aylesbury.)
On the day preceding the ceremony I[168] was asked to assist in decorating the chapel with flowers kindly sent by Lady Rothschild. It was a delicate expression of sympathy for the prisoners, which she repeated on all high festival days. She was deeply affected when I told her how profoundly the women appreciated her recognition of a common humanity.
On the appointed day all work was suspended to enable the prisoners to be present. In the galleries were seated the families of the governor, chaplain, and doctor; at the right of the altar the generous donor of the chapel, Adeline, Duchess of Bedford, was seated with her friends. The organist played a prelude, and then the bishop, accompanied by the chaplain and the clergymen of the diocese, entered the chapel. After a hymn had been sung, a short service followed, and then the bishop stepped forward and, facing the altar, read the “dedication service.” It was most impressive. Then followed a prayer and a hymn, and the service was over. The prisoners[169] filed back to their respective cells and the visitors made the tour of the prison.
I was a patient in the infirmary at the time, but had received permission to attend the chapel. Before the Bishop of Reading left the prison he visited the sick, and as he passed my cell he stopped and spoke to me words of hope and encouragement, adding his blessing.
Influence of Religion upon Prisoners
Another occasion on which the Bishop of Reading visited the prison was the holding of a confirmation service. Many women of earnest minds in prison sought in this manner to prove the sincerity of their repentance and their resolution to live godly lives; and, with one exception, all those confirmed that day have remained true to their profession.
Penal servitude is a fiery test of one’s religious convictions. One’s faith is either strengthened and deepened or else it goes[170] under altogether. I have witnessed many a sad spiritual shipwreck within those walls.
On a dark, gloomy day in October the rain pattered against the window of my cell and the wind howled dismally around that huge “house of sorrow.” Now and then the sound of weeping broke upon the stillness, and I prayed in my heart for the poor souls in travail whose pains had broken through the enforced rule of silence. There is no sound in all the world so utterly unnerving as the hopeless sob of the woman in physical isolation who may not be spiritually comforted. Separated from loved ones, beyond the reach of tender hands and voices, she has no one, as in former years, to share her sufferings or minister to her pain. Alone, one of a mass, with no one to care but the good God above; for “to suffer” thus is the punishment that man has decreed.
The humanizing influences, in my opinion, can be brought to bear upon prisoners with beneficial results only when supported[171] by the advantages of religious teachings. During the early part of my sentence there were Scripture readers, laymen and laywomen, in all convict prisons, to assist the chaplain in his arduous duties; but, on the ground of expense, these have been dispensed with, thus practically removing the only means of administering the moral medicine which is essential to the cure of the habitual prisoner’s mental disease.
A large amount of crime is due to physical and mental degeneration. Nevertheless, crime is also the result of lovelessness, when it is not a disease, and the true curative system should give birth to love in human souls. There is not a man or woman living so low but we can do something to better him or her, if we give love and sympathy in the service and have an all-embracing affection for both God and man.
If the future system is to treat the criminal in a curative or reformative way,[172] rather than by punitive methods, the means to this end must certainly be increased. Even the worst woman can be approached through the emotional side of her nature. A kind word, a sympathetic look, a smile, a little commendation now and then, given by the officers in charge, would soon gain the respect and confidence of the prisoner, and thereby render her the more amenable to rules and regulations. A prisoner with whom I worked, and whose inner life by near association was revealed to me, had got into a very morbid, depressed state of mind. She was under close observation by the doctor’s orders. Her penal record was not a good one; her hasty temper was continually getting her into trouble, and when she was punished she would brood over it.
Suicide of a Prisoner
One day she asked for permission to see me; the permission was refused. She made the request a second time, and, the[173] fact coming to the knowledge of the chaplain, he advised that it be granted, believing, from his personal knowledge of my influence in the prison, that it would have a beneficial effect. I was allowed to see her, and after a few minutes’ conversation she appeared brighter. I told her that the people of God have a promise of a Comforter from heaven to come to them and abide with them, even in tribulation and in prison. She promised me she would try to be more submissive and accept her punishment in a better spirit. For several days after she seemed to improve. But one afternoon she once more made the request to be allowed to see me. As none of the authorities were in the building at the time, and the chief matron could not take upon herself the responsibility of granting the request, it was refused. I felt rather anxious about it, but was helpless. At five o’clock that evening, just before supper was served, the woman was found dead in her cell; she had hanged herself to the window.[174] She was only twenty-four years of age, and was serving a five years’ sentence for shooting her betrayer under great provocation. The tragedy was naturally kept quiet; none of the prisoners knew of it until the following morning. How the truth got abroad I do not know, but when the doors were unlocked after breakfast, instead of the women passing out of their cells in the usual orderly way, they rushed out, shouting excitedly at the top of their voices: “M—— has hanged herself; ... she was driven to it!” In vain the officers tried to pacify them or to explain the true state of things; they would not listen, and continued to scream: “Don’t talk to us—you are paid to say that! If you did not say that it was all right you would be turned out of the gates!” And the uproar increased. As I have already stated, the “Star Class” was sandwiched between two wards of habitual criminals, and we had the benefit of every disturbance. During the excitement one of the ringleaders caught[175] sight of me and shouted: “Mrs. Maybrick, is it true that M—— was driven to it?” The tumult was increasing and was growing beyond the control of the warder, when the chief matron, becoming alarmed, sent up word that I might explain to the women. Accompanied by an officer, I did so, and in a few minutes the uproar calmed down and the women returned quietly to their cells. I have reason to believe that I always had the full confidence of my fellow prisoners; they were quick to know and appreciate that I had their welfare at heart, and that I never countenanced any disobedience or breach of the rules. A first offender, under sentence for many years, will suffer from the punishment according as she maintains or damages her self-respect.
Tragedies in Prison
Above others there are four tragic prison episodes which, once witnessed, can never be forgotten:
1. Breaking bad news to a prisoner—telling her that a dear one in the outside world is dying, and that she may not go to him; that she must wait in terrible suspense until the last message is sent, no communication in the mean time being permitted.
2. Receiving an intimation of the death of a beloved father, mother, brother or sister, husband or child, whose visits and letters have been the sole comfort and support of that prisoner’s hard lot.
3. The loss of reason by a prisoner who was not strong enough to endure the punishment decreed by Act of Parliament.
4. The suicide, who prefers to trust to the mercy of God rather than suffer at the hands of man.
Why should a woman be considered less loving, less capable of suffering, because she is branded with the name of “convict?” She may be informed that her nearest and dearest are dying, but the rules will permit no departure to relieve the heart-breaking suspense. In the world at large telegrams[177] may be sent and daily bulletins received, but not in the convict’s world.
Death is a solemn event under any circumstances, and reverence for the dead is inculcated by our religion, but to die in prison is a thing that every inmate dreads with inexpressible horror. When a prisoner is at the point of death, she is put into a cell alone, or into a ward, if there is one vacant. There she lies alone. The nurse and infirmary officers come and go; her fellow prisoners gladly minister to her; the doctor and chaplain are assiduous in their attentions; but she is nevertheless alone, cut off from her kin, tended by the servants of the law instead of the servants of love, and it is only at the very last that her loved ones may come and say their farewell. Oh! the pathos, the anguish of such partings—who shall describe them? And when all is over, and the law has no longer any power over the body it has tortured, it may be claimed and taken away.
The case of the prisoner who becomes[178] insane is no less harrowing. She is kept in the infirmary with the other patients for three months. If she does not recover her reason within that period, she is certified by three doctors as insane and then removed to the criminal lunatic asylum. In the mean time the peace and rest of the other sick persons in the infirmary are disturbed by her ravings, and their feelings wrought upon by the daily sight of a demented fellow creature.
And the suicide! To see the ghastly and distorted features of a fellow prisoner, with whom one has worked and suffered, killed by her own hands—such scenes as these haunted me for weeks; and it needed all my reliance on God to throw off the depression that inevitably followed.
Moral Effect of Harsh Prison Regime
Have you ever tried to realize what kind of life that must be in which the sight of a child’s face and the sound of a child’s voice[179] are ever absent; in which there are none of the sweet influences of the home; the daily intercourse with those we love; the many trifling little happenings, so unimportant in themselves, but which go so far to make up the sum of human happiness? It commences with the clangor of bells and the jingling of keys, and closes with the banging of hundreds of doors, while the after silence is broken only by shrieks and blasphemies, the trampling of many feet, and the orders of warders.
In the winter the prisoners get up in the dark, and breakfast in the dark, to save the expense of gas. The sense of touch becomes very acute, as so much has to be done without light. Until I had served three years of my sentence I had not been allowed to see my own face. Then a looking-glass, three inches long, was placed in my cell. I have often wondered how this deprivation could be harmonized with a purpose to enforce tidiness or cleanliness in a prisoner. The obvious object in depriving[180] prisoners of the only means through which they can reasonably be expected to conform to the official standard of facial cleanliness is to eradicate woman’s assumed innate sense of vanity; but whether or no it succeeds in this, certain it is that cleanliness becomes a result of compulsion rather than of a natural womanly impulse. Also she must maintain the cleanliness of her prison cell on an ounce of soap per week. After I left Aylesbury I heard that the steward had received orders from the Home Office to reduce this enormous quantity. If true it will leave the unfortunate prisoners with three-quarters of an ounce of soap weekly wherewith to maintain that cleanliness which is said to be next to godliness. The prisoners are allowed a hot bath once a week, but in the interval they may not have a drop of hot water, except by the doctor’s orders.
Attacks of Levity
All human instincts can not be crushed, even by an act of Parliament, and sometimes the prisoners indulge in a flight of levity, which is, however, promptly stopped by the officer in charge. But even wilfulness and levity are to some a relief from the perpetual silence. A young girl, fifteen years of age, came in on a conviction of penal servitude for life. In a fit of passion she had strangled a child of which she had charge. In consideration of her youth and the medical evidence adduced at her trial, sentence of death was commuted. She was in the “Star Class,” and it aroused my indignation to witness her sufferings. A mature woman may submit to the inevitable patiently, as an act of faith or as a proof of her philosophy; but a child of that age has neither faith nor philosophy sufficient to support her against this repressive system of torture. At times, however, the girl had attacks of levity which manifested themselves in most amusing[182] ways. One day she was put out to work in the officers’ quarters and told to black-lead a grate. With a serious face she set to work. Presently the officer asked whether she had finished her task, to which she meekly replied “Yes,” at the same time lifting her face, which, to the utter amazement of the female warder, had been transformed from a white to a brightly polished black one.
On another occasion she was told that she would be wanted in the infirmary. She was suffering great pain at the time, and had begged the doctor to extract a tooth. When the infirmary nurse unlocked her door she was found in bed. This is strictly against the rules, unless the prisoner has special permission from the doctor to lie down during the day. Of course, the officer ordered her to get up at once, to which she replied, “I can’t.” “Why not?” asked the officer. “Because I can’t,” the girl repeated. Whereupon the officer lifted off the bed covering to see[183] what was amiss. To her astonishment she saw that the child had got inside the mattress (which I described in the beginning as a long sack stuffed with the fiber of the coconut), and had drawn the end of it on a string around her neck, so that nothing but her head was visible.
It has been said that no apples are so sweet as those that are stolen, and the great pleasure the women in prison derive from their surreptitious levity is because it can so rarely be indulged in, and the opportunities for its expression must always be stolen.
There is an axiom in prison, “The worse the woman, the better the prisoner.” As one goes about the prison, and observes those women who are permitted little privileged tasks, such as tidying the garden, cleaning the chapel, or any of the light and semi-responsible tasks which convicts like, one will notice the privileged are not, as a rule, the young or respectably brought up, but old, professional criminals. They[184] know the rules of the prison, they spend the greater part of their lives there, and they know exactly how to behave so as to earn the maximum of marks; their object is to get out in the shortest possible time, and to have as light work as possible while they are in. The officers like them because they know their work without having to be taught. “There is no servant like an old thief,” I have heard it said. “They do good work.” This is quite typical of a certain kind of prisoner who is the mainstay of the prisons.
The conviction of young girls to penal servitude is shocking, for it destroys the chief power of prevention that prisons are supposed to possess, and accustoms the young criminal to a reality which has far less terror for her than the idea of it had. Prison life is entirely demoralizing to any girl under twenty years of age, and it is to prevent such demoralizing influence upon young girls that some more humane system of punishment should be enacted.
Self-Discipline
In saying a word on what is, perhaps, best described as “prison self-discipline,” I trust the reader will acquit me of any motive other than a desire that it may result in some sister in misfortune deriving benefit from a similar course. That the state of mind in which one enters upon the life of a convict has some influence on conduct—whether she does so with a consciousness of innocence or otherwise—should, perhaps, go without saying. Nevertheless, innocent or guilty, a proper self-respect can not fail to be helpful, be the circumstances what they may; and from the moment I crossed Woking’s grim threshold until the last day when I passed from the shadow and the gloom of Aylesbury into God’s free sunlight, I adhered strictly to a determination that I would come out of the ordeal—if ever—precisely as I had entered upon it; that no loving eyes of mother or friends should detect in my habits, manners, or[186] modes of thought or expression the slightest deterioration.
Accordingly I set about from the very start to busy myself—and this was no small helpfulness in filling the dreary hours of the seemingly endless days of solitary confinement—keeping my cell in order and ever making the most of such scant material for adornment as the rules permitted. Little enough in this way, it may be imagined, falls to a convict’s lot. Indeed, the sad admission is forced that nearly every semblance of refinement is maintained at one’s peril, for “motives” receive small consideration in the interpretation of prison rules, however portentously they may have loomed in the process that placed an innocent woman under the shadow of the scaffold, and only by grace of a commutation turned her into a “life” convict.
Come what would, I was determined not to lose my hold on the amenities of my former social position, and, though I had only a wooden stool and table, they were[187] always spotless, my floor was ever brightly polished, while my tin pannikins went far to foster the delusion that I was in possession of a service of silver.
Confinement in a cell is naturally productive of slothful habits and indifference to personal appearance. I felt it would be a humiliation to have it assumed that I could or would deteriorate because of my environment. I therefore made it a point never to yield to that feeling of indifference which is the almost universal outcome of prison life. I soon found that this self-imposed regimen acted as a wholesome moral tonic, and so, instead of falling under the naturally baneful influences of my surroundings, I strove, with ever-renewed spiritual strength, to rise above them. At first the difference that marked me from so many of my fellow prisoners aroused in them something like a feeling of resentment; but when they came to know me this soon wore off, and I have reason to believe that my example of unvarying neatness[188] and civility did not fail in influencing others to look a bit more after their personal appearance and to modify their speech. At any rate, it had this effect: Aylesbury Prison is the training-school for female warders for all county prisons. Having served a month’s probation here, they are recommended, if efficient in enforcing the prison “discipline,” for transference to analogous establishments in the counties. It happened not infrequently, therefore, that new-comers were taken to my cell as the model on which all others should be patterned.
I partook of my meals, coarse and unappetizing as the food might be, after the manner I had been wont in the dining-room of my own home; and, though unseen, I never permitted myself to use my fingers (as most prisoners invariably did) where a knife, fork, or spoon would be demanded by good manners. Neither did I permit myself, either at table (though alone) or elsewhere, to fall into slouchy attitudes,[189] even when, because of sickness, it was nearly impossible for me to hold up my head.
I speak of this because of the almost universal tendency among prisoners to mere animality. “What matters it?” is the general retort. Accordingly, the average convict keeps herself no cleaner than the discipline strenuously exacts, while all their attitudes express hopeless indifference, callous carelessness, to a degree that often lowers them to the behavior of the brutes of the field. The repressive system can neither reform nor raise the nature or habits of prisoners.
Need of Women Doctors and Inspectors
Women doctors and inspectors should be appointed in all female prisons. Otherwise what can be expected of a woman of small mental resources, shut in on herself, often unable to read or write with any readiness; of bad habits; with a craving for[190] low excitement; whose chief pleasure has been in the grosser kind of animal delight? The mind turns morbidly inward; the nerves are shattered. Although the dark cell is no longer used, mental light is still excluded. Recidivation is more frequent with women than with men. The jail taint seems to sink deeper into woman’s nature, and at Aylesbury numbers of the more abandoned ones are seldom for long out of the male warders’ hands.
Chastening Effect of Imprisonment on the Spirit
For a considerable period I was given work in the officers’ mess. Their quarters are in a detached building within the prison precincts, and are reached by crossing a small grass-plot which separates it from the prison. Each officer has a small bedroom, in which she sleeps and passes her time when off duty. All meals are served in the mess-room, and consist of breakfast at[191] seven o’clock, lunch on turn between nine and eleven, dinner at twelve-thirty, tea at five, and supper whenever they are off duty. The cooking is excellent and varied. A matron is in charge of the commissariat department, and has four prisoners of the “Star Class” working under her. I did scullery work, which consisted of washing up all the crockery, glass, knives, forks, and spoons used at these five meals, besides all the pots and pans required in their preparation. As a staff of twenty-five sat down to these frequent meals daily, the work was very hard and quite beyond my strength. The “Star Class” of workers should not be kept at it more than six months at a time. Some of the life women have been in the kitchen and mess-room as long as three and four years, and, as neither the culinary arrangements nor the ventilation are modern, the consequent physical and mental depression arising from these defects, and the monotony of the work, is only too apparent.
I was not feeling well at the time, and soon after I had a long illness—a nervous breakdown, due partly to insomnia and partly to the unrelieved strain and stress of years of hard labor. My recovery was very slow. I was in the infirmary about eighteen months, and was glad when finally discharged, as the intervals between my letters and visits were shorter when I was in discipline quarters and could earn more marks. During the long years of my imprisonment I learned many lessons I needed, perhaps, to have learned during my earlier life; but, thank God, I was no criminal! I was being punished for that of which I was innocent. I believe it is God’s task to judge and ours to endure, but I could not understand what his plans and his purposes were. I believed they were good, although I could not see how eternity itself could make up for my sufferings. Perhaps they were intended to work out some good to others, by ways I should never know, until I saw[193] with the clear eyes of another world. Still, the external conditions of life acted on my body and mind, and I scarcely knew at times how to bear them. I could not have endured them without God’s sustaining grace. I used often to repeat these lines:
“With patience, then, the course of duty run;
God never does nor suffers to be done
But that which you would do if you could see
The end of all events as well as he.”
A Death-bed Incident
A woman lay dying in a near-by cell. Of the sixty years of her life she had spent forty within prison walls. What that life had been I will not say, but when she was in the agony of death she called to me: “I don’t know anything about your God, but if he has made you tender and loving to a bad lot like me, I know he will not be hard on a poor soul who never had a chance. Give me a kiss, dear lass, before I go. No one has kissed me since my mother died.”