SirRobertAnderson
05-09-2009, 12:46 PM
This rather lengthy but truly worth a read. It is a detailed account of the prison conditions Florence Maybrick suffered under at Woking. Truly a turn in Hell.
I clipped this from a rather interesting website, which in turn nabbed it from Google Books.
http://wokingprison.blogspot.com/2009/02/famous-inmate-florence-maybrick.html
Woking Invalid Convict Prison
This blog is dedicated to Woking Invalid Convict Prison (circa 1858) which later became Inkerman Barracks, Knaphill.
Mrs. Maybrick's Own Story, MY FIFTEEN LOST YEARS
ON the morning of the 29th of August
I was hastily awakened by a female
warder, who said that orders had come
down from the Home Office for my removal
that day to a convict prison.
When I left, the governor was standing
at the gate, and, with a kindliness of voice
which I deeply appreciated, told me to be
brave and good.
A crowd was in waiting at the station.
I was roughly hustled through it into a
third-class carriage.
The only ray of light that penetrated
those dark hours of my journey came from
an American woman. God bless her,
whoever she is or wherever she is! At
every station that the train stopped she got
out and came to the carriage door and
spoke words of sympathy and comfort.
She was the first of my countrywomen to
voice to me the protest that swelled into
greater volume as the years rolled by.
As the train drew up at Woking station a
crowd assembled. Outside stood a cab, to
which I was at once conducted, and we
drove through lovely woods; the scent of
flowers was wafted by the breeze into what
seemed to be a hearse that was bearing me
on toward my living tomb.
As we approached the prison the great
iron gate swung wide, and the cab drove
silently into the yard. There I descended.
The governor gave an order, and a woman
— who I afterward found was assistant
superintendent — came forward. Accom-
panied by her and an officer, I was led
across a near-by yard to a building which
stood somewhat apart from the others and
is known as the infirmary. There a princi-
pal matron received me, and the assistant
superintendent and the chief matron re-
turned to their quarters.
The Convict Uniform
In the grasp of what seemed to me a hor-
rible nightmare, I found myself in a cell
with barred windows, a bed, and a chair.
Without, the stillness of death reigned. I
remained there perhaps half an hour when
the door opened and I was commanded by
a female warder to follow her. In a daze
I obeyed mechanically. We crossed the
same yard again and entered a door that
led into a room containing only a fireplace,
a table, and a bath. Here I was told to
take off my clothes, as those I had traveled
in had to be sent back to the prison at Liv-
erpool, where they belonged.
When I was dressed in the uniform to
which the greatest stigma and disgrace is
attached, I was told to sit down. The
warder then stepped quickly forward, and
with a pair of scissors cut off my hair to the
nape of my neck. This act seemed, above
all others, to bring me to a sense of my
degradation, my utter helplessness; and
the iron of the awful tragedy, of which I
was the innocent victim, entered my soul.
I was then weighed and my height taken.
My weight was one hundred and twelve
pounds, and my height five feet three
inches.
Once more I was bidden to: follow my
guide. We recrossed the yard and entered
the infirmary. Here I was locked in the
cell already mentioned. At last I could be
alone after the anguish and torture of the
day. I prayed for sleep that I might lose
consciousness of my intolerable anguish.
But sleep, that gentle nurse of the sad and
suffering, came not. What a night 1 I
shudder even now at the memory of it
Physically exhausted, smarting with the
thought of the cruel, heartless way in which
I had been beaten down and trodden under
foot, I felt that mortal death would have
been more merciful than the living death
to which I was condemned. In the adjoin-
ing cell an insane woman was raving and
weeping throughout the night, and I won-
dered whether in the years to come I should
become like her.
The next day I was visited by the govern-
or on his official rounds. Then the doc-
tor came and made a medical examination,
and ordered me to be detained in the infir-
mary until further orders. My mind is a
blank as to what happened for some time
afterward. My next remembrance is being
told by a coarse-looking, harsh-spoken fe-
male warder to get ready to go into the
prison. Once more • I was led across the
big yard, and then I stood within the walls
that were to be for years my tomb. Out-
side the sun was shining and the birds were
singing.
In Solitary Confinement
Without, picture a vast outline of frown-
ing masonry. Within, when I had passed
the double outer gates and had been locked
out and locked in in succession, I found
myself in a central hall, from which ran
cage-like galleries divided into tiers and
landings, with a row of small cells on either
side. The floors are of stone, the landings
of slate, the railings of steel, and the stairs
of iron. Wire netting is stretched over the
lowest tier to prevent prisoners from throw-
ing themselves over in one of those frenzies
of rage and despair of which every prison
has its record. Within their walls can be
found, above all places, that most degra-
ding, heart-breaking product of civilization,
a human automaton. All will, all initiative,
all individuality, all friendship, all the
things that make human beings attractive
to one another, are absent. Suffering there
is dumb, and when it goes beyond endur-
ance — alas !
I followed the warder to a door, perhaps
not more than two feet in width. She un-
locked it and said, " Pass in.*' I stepped
.forward, but started back in horror.
Through the open door I saw, by the dim
light of a small window that was never
cleaned, a cell seven feet by four.
Oh, don't put me in there!" I cried,
I can not bear it."
For answer the warder took me rough-
ly by the shoulder, gave me a push, and
shut the door. There was nothing to sit
upon but the cold slate floor. I sank to
my knees. I felt suffocated. It seemed
that the walls were drawing nearer and
nearer together, and presently the life
would be crushed out of me. I sprang to
my feet and beat wildly with my hands
against the door. " For God's sake let me
out ! Let me out ! " But my voice could
not penetrate that massive barrier, and ex-
hausted I sank once more to the floor. I
can not recall those nine months of solitary
confinement without a feeling of horror.
My cell contained only a hammock rolled
up in a corner, and three shelves let into the
wall-^no table nor stool. For a seat I was
compelled to place my bedclothes on the
floor.
The Daily Routine
No one can realize the horror of solitary
confinement who has not experienced it.
Here is one day's routine: It is six o'clock;
I arise and dress in the dark ; I put up my
hammock and wait for breakfast. I hear
the ward officer in the gallery outside. I
take a tin plate and a tin mug in my hands
and stand before the cell door. Presently
the door opens ; a brown, whole-meal, six-
ounce loaf is placed upon the plate ; the tin
mug is taken, and three-quarters of a pint
of gruel is measured in my presence, when
the mug is handed back in silence, and the
door is closed and locked. After I have
taken a few mouthfuls of bread I begin to
scrub my cell. A bell rings and my door
is again unlocked- No word is spoken,
because I know exactly what to do. I
leave my cell and fall into single file, three
paces in the rear of my nearest fellow con-
vict. All of us are alike in knowing what
we have to do, and we march away silently
to Divine service. We are criminals under
punishment, and our keepers march us like
dumb cattle to the worship of God. To
me the twenty minutes of its duration were
as an oasis in a weary desert. When it
came to an end I felt comforted, and always
a little more resigned to my fate. Chapel
over, I returned directly to my cell, for I
was in solitary confinement, and might not
enjoy the privilege of working in company
with my prison companions.
Work I must, but I must work alone.
Needlework and knitting fall to my lot.
My task for the day is handed to me, and I
sit in my cell plying my needle, with the
consciousness that I must not indulge in
an idle moment, for an unaccomplished
task means loss of marks, and loss of marks
means loss of letters and visits. As chapel
begins at 8 130 I am back in my cell soon
after nine, and the requirement is that I
shall make one shirt a day — certainly not
less than five shirts a week. If I am obsti-
nate or indolent, I shall be reported by the
ward officer, and be brought to book with
punishment — perhaps reduced to a diet of
bread and water and total confinement in
my cell for twenty-four hours. If I am
faint, weak, or unwell, I may be excused
the full performance of my task ; but there
must be no doubt of my inability. In such
case it is for me to have my name entered
for the prison doctor, and obtain from him
the indulgence that will remit a portion of
my prescribed work to three or four shirts.
However, as I am well, I work automat-
ically, closely, and with persistence. Then
comes ten o'clock, and with it the governor
with his escort. He inspects each cell, and
if all is not as it should be, the prisoner will
hear of it. There is no friendly greeting
of "Good-morning" nor parting "Good-
night" within those gloomy walls. The
tone is formal and the governor says:
" How are you, Maybrick? Any com-
plaints? Do you want anything?" and
then he passes on. Then I am again alone
with my work and my brooding thoughts.
I never made complaints. One but adds
to one's burden by finding causes for com-
plaint. With the coming and the going
of the governor the monotony returns to
stagnation.
The Exercise Hour
Presently, however, the prison bell rings
again. I know what the clangor means,
and mechanically lay down my work. It
is the hour for exercise, and I put on my
bonnet and cape. One by one the cell
doors of the ward are opened. One by one
we come out from our cells and fall into
single file. Then, with a ward officer in
charge, we march into the exercise yard.
We have drawn up in line, three paces
apart, and this is the form in which we
tramp around the yard and take our exer-
cise. This yard is perhaps forty feet
square, and there are thirty-five of us to
expand in its "freedom." The inclosure
is oppressively repulsive. Stone-flagged,
hemmed within ugly walls, it gives one a
hideous feeling of compression. It seems
more like a bear-pit than an airing ground
for human beings. But I forget that we
are not here to have things made easy,
comfortable, and pleasant for us. We are
here to be punished, to be scourged for our
crimes and misdeeds. Can you wonder
that human nature sometimes revolts and
dares even prison rigor? Human instincts
may be suppressed, but not wholly crushed.
There were at Woking two yards in
which flowers and green trees were visible,
but it was only in after years that I was per-
mitted to take my exercise in these yards,
and then only half an hour on Sunday.
When the one hour for exercise is over,
in a file as before, we tramp .back to our
work. Confined as we are for twenty-two
hours in our narrow, gloomy cells, the ex-
ercise, dull as it is, is our only opportunity
for a glimpse of the sky and for a taste of
outdoor life, and affords our only relief from
an otherwise almost unbearable day.
The Midday Meal
At noon the midday meal. The first
sign of its approach is the sound of the fa-
tigued party of prisoners bringing the food
from the kitchen into the ward. I hear
the ward officer passing with the weary
group from cell to cell, and presently she
will reach my door. My food is handed to
me, then the door is closed and double
locked* In the following two hours, hav-
ing finished my meal, I can work or read.
At two o'clock the fatigue party again goes
on its mechanical round ; the cell door is
again unlocked, this time for the collection
of dinner-cans. The meal of each prisoner
is served out by weight, and the law allows
her to claim her full quantity to the utter-
most fraction of an ounce. She is even en-
titled to see it weighed if she fancies it falls
short. Work is then resumed until five
o'clock, when gruel and bread is again
served, as at breakfast, with half an hour
for its disposal. From that time on until
seven o'clock more work, when again is
heard the clang of the prison bell, and with
it comes the end of our monotonous day.
I take down my hammock, and once more
await the opening of the door. We have
learned exactly what to do. With the
opening of our cells we go forward, and
each places her broom outside the door. So
shall it be known that we each have been
visited in our cells before the locking of
our doors and gates for the night. If any
of us are taking medicine by the doctor's
orders we now receive it. On through the
ten long, weary hours of the night the
night officers patrol the wards, keeping
watch, and through a glass peep-hole si-
lently inspect us in our beds to see that
nothing is amiss.
The Cruelty of Solitary Confinement
Solitary confinement is by far the most
cruel feature of English penal servitude.
It inflicts upon the prisoner at the com-
mencement of her sentence, when most
sensitive to the horrors which prison pun-
ishment entails, the voiceless solitude, the
hopeless monotony, the long vista of to-
morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow stretching
before her, all filled with desolation and de-
spair. Once a prisoner has crossed the
threshold of a convict prison, not only is
she dead to the world, but she is expected
in word and deed to lose or forget every
vestige of her personality. Verily,
The mills of the gods grind slowly.
But they grind exceeding small.
And woe to the wight unholy
On whom those millstones fall.
So it is with the Penal Code which di-
rects this vast machinery, doing its utmost
with tireless, ceaseless revolutions to mold
body and soul slowly, remorselessly, into
the shape demanded by Act of Parliament.
The Period of Probation
A Change of Cell
The day I had completed the nine months of
solitary confinement I entered upon a new stage,
that of probationfor nine months. I was
taken from Hall G to Hall A. There were in Woking
seven halls, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, separated by
two barred doors and a narrow passage.
Every hall has three wards. The female
warder who accompanied me locked me in
my cell. I looked around with a sense of
intense relief. The cell was as large again
as the one I had left. The floor was of
wood instead of slate. It contained a camp
bedstead on which was placed a so-called
mattress, consisting of a sack the length of
the bed, stuffed with coir, the fiber of the
coconut. There were also provided two
coarse sheets, two blankets, and a red
counterpane. In a corner were three iron
shelves let in the wall one above the other.
On the top shelf was folded a cape, and on
top of this there was a small, coarse straw
bonnet. The second shelf contained a tin
cup, a tin plate, a wooden spoon, and a
salt-cellar. The third shelf was given up to
a slate, on which might be written com-
plaints or requests to the governor ; it is a
punishable offense in prison to write with
a pencil or on any paper not provided.
There was also a Bible, a prayer-book
and hymn-book, and a book from the libra-
ry. Near the door stood a log of wood up-
right, fastened to the floor, and this was
the only seat in the cell. It was immovable,
and so placed that the prisoner might al-
ways be in view of the warder. Near it, let
into the wall, was a piece of deal board,
which answered for a table. Through an
almost opaque piece of square glass light
glimmered from the hall, the only means of
lighting the cell at night ; facing this, high
up, was a barred window admitting light
from the outside.
Evils of the Silent System
The routine of my daily life was the
same as during "solitary confinement."
The cell door may be open, but its outer
covering or gate is locked, and, although I
knew there was a human creature sepa-
rated from me only by a cell wall and an-
other gate, not a whisper might I breathe.
There is no rule of prison discipline so pro-
ductive of trouble and disaster as the " silent
system," and the tyrannous and rigorous
method with which it is enforced is the
cause of two-thirds of all the misconduct
and disturbance that occurs in prison.
The silence rule gives supreme gratifica-
tion to the tyrannous officer, for on the
slightest pretext she can report a woman
for talking — a turn of the head, a move-
ment of the lips is enough of an excuse for
a report. And there is heavy punishment
that can be inflicted for this offense, both
in the male and female prisons. An offend-
er may be consigned to solitary confine-
ment, put for three days on bread and wa-
ter, or suffer the loss of a week's remission,
which means a week added to her term of
imprisonment — and all this for incautiously
uttering a word.
Unless it be specifically intended as a
means of torture, the system of solitary
confinement, even for four months, the
term to which it has since been reduced,
can meet only with condemnation. I am
convinced that, within limits, the right of
speech and the interchange of thought, at
least for two hours daily, even during pro-
bation, would insure better discipline than
perpetual silence, which can be enforced
only by a complete suppression of nature,
and must result in consequent weakness of
mind and ruin of temper. During the first
months of her sentence a prisoner is more
frequently in trouble for breach of this one
rule than from all other causes. The re-
duction of the term of probation from nine
to four months has been followed by a re-
duction in mental afflictions, which is proof
that nothing wholesome or good can have
its growth in unnatural solitude.
The silent system has a weakening ef-
fect upon the memory. A prisoner often
finds difficulty in deciding upon the pro-
nunciation of words which she has not
heard for a considerable period. I often
found myself, when desirous of using unu-
sual words, especially in French or Ger-
man, pronouncing them to myself in order
to fix the pronunciation in my memory.
It is well to bear in mind what a small
number of words the prisoner has an op-
portunity of using in the monotony of pris-
on life. The same inquiries are made day
after day, and the same responses given.
A vocabulary of one hundred words will
include all that a prisoner habitually uses.
Insanity and Nervous Breakdown of
Prisoners
No defender of the silent system pre-
tends that it wholly succeeds in preventing
speech among prisoners. But be that as it
may, a period of four months' solitary con-
finement in the case of a female, and six
months' in the case of a male, and espe-
cially of a girl or youth, is surely a crime
against civilization and humanity. Such a
punishment is inexpressible torture to both
mind and body. I speak from experience.
The torture of continually enforced silence
is known to produce insanity or nervous
breakdown more than any other feature
connected with prison discipline. Since
the passing of the Act of 1898, mitigating
this form of punishment, much good has
been accomplished, as is proved by the
' diminution of insanity in prison life, the
decreasing scale of prison punishment, and
the lessening of the death-rate. By still
further reducing this barbarous practise,
sponding happy results may confidently be
expected. The more the prisoners are
placed under conditions and amid sur-
roundings calculated to develop a better
life, the greater is the hope that the system
will prove curative ; but so long as prison-
ers are subjected to conditions which have
a hardening effect at the very beginning of
their prison life, there is little chance of ul-
timate reformation.
Need of Separate Confinement for the Weak-Minded
There are many women who hover about
the borderland of insanity for months, pos-
sibly for years. They are recognized as
weak-minded, and consequently they make
capital out of their condition, and by the
working of their distorted minds, and petty
tempers, and unreasonable jealousy, add
immeasurably not only to the ghastliness of
the " house of sorrow," but are a sad clog
on the efforts to self-betterment of their
level-minded sisters in misery. Of these
many try hard to make the best of what
has to be gone through. Therefore, is it
necessary, is it wise, is it right that such a
state of things should be allowed? The
weak-minded should be kept in a separate
place, with their own officers to attend
them. Neither the weak-minded, the epi-
leptic, nor the consumptives were isolated.
There is great need of reform wherever
this is the case. Prisoners whose behavior
is different from the normal should be sep-
arated from the other prisoners, and made
to serve out their sentences under specially
adapted conditions.
I read in the newspapers that insanity is
on the increase ; this fact is clearly reflect-
ed within the prison walls. It is stated
that the insane form about three per thou-
sand of the general population. In local
English prisons insanity, it is said, even
after deducting those who come in insane,
is seven times more prevalent than among
the general population.
Reading an Insufficient Relaxation
The nervous crises do not now supervene
so frequently as formerly in the case of
prisoners of a brooding disposition, but the
fact remains that, in spite of the slight
amelioration, mental light is still excluded
— that communion on which rests all hu-
man well-being. The vacuity of the soli-
tary system, to some at least, is partially
lighted by books. But what of those who
can not read, or who have not sufficient
concentration of mind to profit by reading
as a relaxation ? There are many such, in
spite of the high standard of free educa-
tion that prevails at the present day. The
shock of the trial, and the uprooting of a
woman's domestic ties, coupled with the
additional mental strain of having to start
her prison career in solitary confinement,
is surely neither humane, nor merciful, nor
wise. These months of solitary confine-
ment leave an ineffaceable mark. It is
during the first lonely months that the seeds
of bitterness and hardness of heart are
sown, and it requires more than a passive
resistance — nay, nothing short of an unfal-
tering faith and trust in an overruling Provi-
dence — to bring a prisoner safely through
the ordeal. Let the sympathetic reader try
to realize what it means never to feel the
touch of anything soft or warm, never to
see anything that is attractive — nothing
but stone above, around, and beneath. The
deadly chill creeps into one's bones; the
bitter days of winter and the still bitterer
nights were torture, for Woking Prison was
not heated. My hands and feet were cov-
ered with chilblains.
My Sufferings from Cold and Insomnia
Oh, the horrors of insomnia! If one
could only forget one's sufferings in sleep !
During all the fifteen years of my impris-
onment, insomnia was (and, alas I is still)
my constant companion. Little wonder!
I might fall asleep, when suddenly the
whole prison is awakened by shriek upon
shriek, rending the stillness of the night.
I am now, perforce, fully awake. Into
my ears go tearing all the shrill exe-
crations and blasphemies, all the hideous
uproars of an inferno, compounded of
bangs, shrieks, and general demoniac ra-
gings. The wild smashing of glass startles
the halls. I lie in my darkened cell with
palpitating heart. Like a savage beast, the
woman of turmoil has torn her clothing
and bedding into shreds, and now she is
destroying all she can lay hands on. The
ward officers are rushing about in slippered
feet, the bell rings summoning the ward-
ers, who are always needed when such out-
bursts occur, and the woman, probably in a
strait-jacket, is borne to the penal cells.
Then stillness returns to the ghastly place,
and with quivering nerves I may sleep — if
I can.
Medical Attendance
But what if one is ill in the night ? The
lonely prisoner in her cell may summon aid
by ringing the bell. The moment it is set
in motion it causes a black iron slab to pro-
ject from the outer wall of her cell in the
gallery. On the slab is the prisoner's num-
ber, and the ward officer, hearing the bell,
at once looks for the cell from which the
call has been sent. Presently she finds it,
then fetches the principal matron, and to-
gether they enter the hard, unhomelike
place. If the prisoner is ill they call the
doctor of the prison, and medicines and aid
will be given. But sympathy is no part
of their official duty, and be the warder
never so tender in her own domestic circle,
tenderness must not be shown toward a
prisoner. The patient may be removed
from her cell to the infirmary, where they
will care for her medically, perhaps as well
as they would in a hospital ; she may even
receive a few flowers from an infirmary
warder whose heart comes out from its
official shell ; but through it all, sick though
she be, she is still a prisoner under lock
and key, a woman under surveillance, a
woman denied communion with her kind.
Added Sufferings of the Delicately
Nurtured
What words can adequately describe the
long years, blank and weary enough for all
prisoners, but which are indescribably so
to one who has been delicately nurtured ! I
had enjoyed the refinements of social life ;
I had pitied, and tried, as far as lay in my
power, to help the poor and afflicted, but
I had never known anything of the bar-
barism, the sordid vices of low life. And I
was condemned to drag out existence amid
such surroundings, because twelve ignorant
men had taken upon themselves to decide
a question which neither the incompetent
judge nor the medical witnesses could
themselves determine.
So far as I can learn, there is no other
instance of a woman undoubtedly innocent
and of gentle birth, confined for a term of
nearly fifteen years in an English convict
prison. In the nature of things a delicate
woman feels more acutely than a robust
prisoner the rigors of prolonged captivity.
Neither confidence nor respect can be
secured when punishment is excessive, for
it then becomes an act of persecution, suit-
able only for ages of darkness. The su^
pineness of Parliament in not establishing
a court of criminal appeal fastens a dark
blot upon the judicature of England, and is
inconsistent with the innate love of justice
and fair play of its people.
How Criminals and Imbeciles are
Made
The law in prison is the same for the
rich as the poor, the " Star Class " as for
the ignorant, brutalized criminal. My reg-
ister was " L. P. 29." These letters and
numbers were worked in white cotton
upon a piece of black cloth. Your sen-
tence is indicated thus : " L " stands for
penal servitude for life ; " P " for the year
of conviction, which in my case was the
sixteenth year since the previous lettering.
This is done every twenty-five years. The
"29" meant that I was the twenty-ninth
convict of my year, 1889. In addition to
this register I wore a red cloth star placed
above it. The "Star Class," of which I
was a member, consisted of women who
have been convicted of one crime only,
committed in a moment of weakness or
despair, or under pressure which they were
not strong enough to resist at the time,
such as infanticide, forgery, incendiarism ;
and who, having been educated and re-
spectably brought up, betray otherwise no
criminal instincts or inclinations; and who,
when in the world, would be distinct in
character from the habitual criminal, not
only from a social point of view, but in
their virtues, faults, and crimes.
There should be separate rules and privi-
leges to meet the case of a prisoner guilty
of moral lapses only, as distinguished from
the habitual breaker of the laws. At pres-
ent the former gets the same treatment and
discipline as the habitual criminal of sev-
eral convictions, and can not claim a single
privilege that the old offender has not a
right to ask — for example, members of
both classes are limited to the same number
of letters and visits. The " Star Class " is
supposed to be kept separate from ordinary
prisoners. It was so at Woking Prison.
But at Aylesbury Prison, to which I was
transferred later, they were sandwiched be-
tween two wards of habitual criminals, with
whom they came continually in contact,
not only in passing to and from the work-
shops, fetching meals, and going to exer-
cise, but continuously. That contamina-
tion should ensue is hardly surprising. It
requires a will of iron, and nearly the spirit
of a saint, not to be corrupted by .the sights
and sounds of a prison, even when no word
is spoken. It is a serious accusation
against any system to say " that it produces
the thing it is designed to prevent," but
such, I am convinced, is the fact as regards
the manufacture of criminals and imbeciles
by the present system of penalism almost
the world over.
The Period of Hard Labor
Routine
Having passed solitary confinement
and probation, I entered upon the
third stage, hard labor, when I was per-
mitted to leave my cell to assist in carrying
meals from the kitchen, and to sit at my
door and converse with the prisoners in the
adjoining cells for two hours daily — but
always in the presence of an officer who
controls and limits the conversation. My
daily routine was now also somewhat differ-
ent from that of solitary confinement and
probation.
At six o'clock the bell rings to rise.
Half an hour later a second bell signifies to
the officers that it is time to come on duty.
Each warder in charge of certain wards
— there are three wards to each hall — then
goes to the chief matron's office, where
she receives a key wherewith to unlock the
prisoners' cells. All keys are given up by
the female warder before going off duty,
and locked for the night in an iron safe
under the charge of a male warder. When
again in possession of her key she repairs
to her ward, and at the order, " Unlock," she
lets out the prisoners to empty their slops.
This done, they are once more locked in,
with the exception of three women who go
down to the kitchen to fetch the cans of
tea and loaves of bread which make up
the prisoners' breakfast. At Woking the
breakfast was of cocoa and coarse meal
bread, while later, at Aylesbury, it con-
sisted of tea and white bread. I am con-
strained to remark here that more consid-
eration should be shown by the medical
officer toward women who complain of
being physically unfit to do heavy lift-
ing and carrying. The can is carried by
two women up two or three flights of
stairs, according to the location of their
^ward, and the bread by one woman only.
Each can contains fourteen quarts of tea,
and the bread-basket holds thirty pounds
or more of bread. To a woman with
strong muscles it may cause no distress,
but in the case of myself and others equally
frail, the physical strain was far beyond
our strength, and left us utterly exhausted
after the task.
The breakfast was served at seven
o'clock, when the officers returned to the
mess-room to take theirs. At 7 130 a bell
rang again, and the officers returned to their
respective wards. At ten minutes to eight
the order was given, " Unlock." Once
more the doors were opened. Then fol-
lowed the order, " Chapel," and each wom-
an stood at her door with Bible, prayer-
book, and hymn-book in hand. At the
words " Pass on," they file one behind the
other into the chapel, where a warder
from each ward sits with her back to the
altar that she may be able the better to
watch those under her charge and see that
they do not speak. After a service of
twenty minutes the prisoners file back to
their cells, place their books on the lower
shelf, and with a drab cape and a white
straw hat stand in readiness for the next
order, " To your doors." This given, they
descend into the hall and pass out to their
respective places of work.
Talk with the Chaplain
Many of these women have their tender,
spiritual moments. At such times they
will beg for a favorite hymn to be sung at I
the chapel service on Sunday, and their re-
quests are generally granted by the chap-
lain. He is the only friend of the pris
oner, and his work is arduous and often
thankless. He is the only one within the
walls to whom she may turn for sympathy
and advice. It may not be every woman
who gladly avails herself of the enforced
privilege of attending daily chapel. " Re-
ligion," as a terfti [sic], is unpalatable to many.
But there are very few who are not better
and happier for the few moments' unoffi-
cial talk with her chaplain, be she Protes-
tant or Roman Catholic.
It is to be regretted that his authority
is so limited, and his opportunities for
brightening the lives of those who walk in
dark places so few. Red tape and standing
orders confront him at every turn, so that
even the religious training is drawn and
sucked beneath the mighty wheel of the
Penal Code, and there is no time for per-
sonal suasion to play more than a mind
part in a convict's life.
My Work in the Kitchen
The work for first offenders, who are
called the " Star Class,*' consists of labor
in the kitchen, the mess, and the officers'
quarters^ Six months after I entered upon
the third stage I was put to Work in the
kitchen. My duties were as follows: To
wash ten cans, each holding four quarts;
to scrub one table, twenty feet in length ;
two dressers, twelve feet in length ; to wash
five hundred dinner-tins; to clean" knives;
to wash a sack of potatoes; to assist in
serving the dinners, and to scrub a piece of
floor twenty by ten feet. Besides myself
there were eight other women on hard la-
bor in the kitchen. Our day commenced
at 6 A.M., and continued until 5:30 pm.
A half hour at breakfast time, twenty min-
utes at chapel, one hour and a half after
the midday meal, and half an hour after tea
summed up our leisure. The work was
hard and rough. The combined heat of
the coppers, the stove, and the steamers
was overpowering, especially on hot sum-
mer days ; but I struggled on, doing this
work preferably to some other, because the
kitchen was the only place where the mo-
notony of prison life was broken. It was
the " show place,** and all visitors looked in
to see the food.
The Machine-made Menu
What dining in prison means may be
judged by a perusal of the schedule as
given in the Prison Commission Report:
Dost for Female Convicts
Breakfast
Three-quarters of a pint of cocoa, containing }^ ounce
of cocoa, 2 ounces milk, }i ounce of molasses.
Bread.
Dinner
Sunday. 4 ounces tinned pressed beef. Bread.
3 ounces (cooked), with its
own liquor, flavored with >^
ounce onions, and thickened
with bread and potatoes left
on previous days, % ounce
of flour, and for every 100
convicts, }i ounce of pepper.
% pound potatoes. Bread.
Saturday, i pint soup, containing 6 ounces of shins of
beef (uncooked), i ounce pearl barley, j ounces of
fresh vegetables, including onions, and for every
100 convicts, ^ ounce pepper, ji pound potatoes.
Bread.
Thursday. % pound pudding, containing i ounce 2
drams water. % pound potatoes. Bread.
Monday. Mutton
Tuesday. Beef . .
Wednesday. Mutton
Friday. Beef . . .
Supper
I pint gruel, containing: 2 ounces oatmeal, ^ ounce mo-
lasses, 2 ounces milk. Bread.
Bread per convict per week, 118 ounces.
Bread per convict each week-day, 16 ounces.
Bread per convict each Sunday, 22 ounces.
Salt per convict per day, }i ounce,*
Visitors to the Kitchen
During the four years I worked in the
kitchen I saw many people. The Duke
of Connaught, Sir Evelyn Wood and his
staff, Lord Alverston, Sir Edward du
Cane, the late Lord Rothschild, and Sir
Evelyn Ruggles-Brise, besides judges, mag
istrates, authors, philanthropists and others
* A convict employed in washing, or other exceptional
hard work, may have daily an extra allowance of 3
ounces bread, and cheese i ounce, as an intermediate
meal between breakfast and dinner, and an extra allow-
ance of I ounce of meat (uncooked) four times a week.
A convict on entering the second-class will have the
choice of i pint of tea (made of j/e ounce tea, }^ ounce of
sugar, 2 ounces milk) and 2 ounces additionally bread in
stead of gruel for supper: and a convict on entering the
first or special class will nave, in addition to the above,
the choice of 4 ounces of baked mutton cooked in its own
liquor, not flavored or thickened, instead of boiled meat
or soup, if she takes tea instead of gruel. The food is
wholesome, but spoiled by overcooking. But oh, how
jaded the palate becomes. I
of an inquiring turn of mind, who had
obtained the necessary permit to make the
tour of the prison under the escort of the
governor or one or two of his satellites.
These ladies and gentlemen expressed the
mo3t varied and sometimes startling opin-
ions. I recollect on one occasion, when
some visitors happened to be inspecting
the kitchen during the dishing up of the
hospital patients' dinner, one old gentle-
man of the party was quite scandalized at
the sight of a juicy mutton-chop and a
tempting milk pudding. He expostulated
in such a way that the governor hastened
to explain that it was not the ordinary pris-
on diet, but was intended for a very sick
woman* Even then this old gentleman
was not satisfied, and stalked out, audibly
grumbling about people living on the fat
of the land and getting a better dinner
than he did. I firmly believe that he left
the prison under the impression that its in-
mates lived like pampered gourmets, and
that he no longer marvelled there were so
many criminals when they were fed on '
such luxuries.
The "Homeuke" Cell
On another occasion a benevolent-look-
ing old lady, having given everything and
everybody as minute an inspection as
was possible, expressed herself as being
charmed, remarking:
" Everything is so nice and homelike ! "
I have often wondered what that good
lady's home was like.
A little philosophy is useful, a saving
grace, even in prison; but people have
such different ways of expressing sympa-
thy. A visitor, who I have no doubt in-
tended to be sympathetic, noticing the let-
ter " L " on my arm, inquired:
" How long a time have you to do ? "
" I have just completed ten years," was
my reply.
"Oh, well," cheerfully responded the
sympathetic one, " you have done half your
time, haven't you? The remaining ten
years will soon slip by"; and the visitor
passed on, blissfully ignorant of the sword
she had unwittingly thrust into my aching
heart. Even if a prisoner has little or no
hope of a mitigation, it is not pleasant to
have an old wound ruthlessly handled, and
ten years' imprisonment as lightly spoken
of as ten days might be.
The Opiate of Acquiescence
I preferred the kitchen work, although
often beyond my strength, to any other
that fell to a prisoner's lot, because of the
glimpses into the outside world it occasion-
ally afforded. But I never permitted my-
self to dwell upon the fact that at one time
I had been the social equal of at least the
majority of those with whom I thus came
into passing contact, since to do so would
have made my position by contrast so un-
bearable that it would have unfitted me
to do the work in a spirit of submission,
not to speak of the mental suffering which
Weakened memories would have occasioned.
I soon found that both my spiritual and my
mental salvation, under the repressive rules
in force, depended upon unresisting acqui-
escence — the keeping of my sensibilities
dulled as near as possible to the level of the
mere animal state which the Penal Code,
whether intentionally or otherwise, inevita-
bly brings about.
I have been frequently asked by friends,
since my release, how I could possibly have
endured the shut-in life vender such soul-
depressing influences. I have given here
and there in my narrative indication pf
any feelings under different circumstances.
Here I may state in general that I early
found that thoughts of without and thoughts
of within— those that haunted me of the
world and those that were ever present in
my surroundings— would not march to-
gether. I had to keep step with either the
one or the other. The conflict between the
two soon became unbearable, an4 I was
compelled to make choice : whether I would
live in the past and as much as possible ex-
clude the prison, and take the punishment
which would inevitably follow as it had
in so many cases — in an unbalanced mind ;
or would shut the past out altogether and
coerce my thoughts within the limitations
of the prison regulations. My safety lay,
as I found, in compressing my thoughts to
the smallest compass of mental existence,
and no sooner did worldly visions or
memories intrude themselves, as they nec
essarily would, than I immediately and
resolutely shut them out as one draws the
blind to exclude the light. While I thus
suppressed all emotions belonging to a nat-
ural life, I nevertheless found, whenever I
came accidentally in contact with visitors
from the outside world, that my inner na
ture was attuned like the strings of a harp
to the least vibration of others' emotions.
The slightest unconscious inflection of the
voice, whether sympathetic or otherwise,
would well forth either a grateful response
or an instant withdrawal into the armor of
reserve which I had to adopt for my self-
protection. But this exclusion of the world
created a dark background which served
only to intensify the light that shone upon
me from realms unseen of mortal eyes.
Lonely I was, yet I was never alone. But,
however satisfying the spiritual commun-
ion, the human heart is so constituted that
it needs must yearn for love and sympathy
from its own kind, for recognition of all
that is best in us, by something that is like
unto it, in its experiences, feelings, emo-
tions, and aspirations.
Visits of Prisoners' Friends
A prisoner is allowed to receive a visit
from her friends at intervals of six, four,
and two months, according to her stage of
service. There are four stages, each of
nine months' duration: first, solitary con-
finement; second, probation; while the
third and fourth stages are not specially
designated. During the first two stages
the prisoner is clothed in brown, at the
third stage in green, and the fourth in
navy blue. Every article worn by the pris-
oner or in use by her is stamped with a
" broad arrow," the convict's crest.
A visit may be forfeited by bad conduct
or delayed through a loss of marks. When
a prisoner is entitled to receive a visitor,
she applies to the governor for permission
to have the permit sent to the person she
names ; but if the police report concerning
the designated visitor is unfavorable the
request is not granted. When a prisoner's
friends— three being the maximum— arrive
at the prison gates they ring a bell. The
gatekeeper views them through a grille and
inquires their business. They show their
permit; whereupon he notifies the chief
matron, who in turn notifies the officer in
charge of the prisoner.
The rule regarding visits precluded any
discussion of prison affairs, or anything
regarding treatment, or aught that passes
within the prison walls. Had I permitted
myself to break this rule the visit would
have been stopped at once by the matron
in charge. Consequently, all this state-
ments on such matters reported from time
to time in the press during my imprisonment,
and quoted as received from my
mother or friends, are shown to be pure
fabrications.
My Mother's Visits
A visit ! What joy or what sorrow those
words express in the outside world I But
in prison— the pain of it is so great that it
can hardly be borne*
Whenever my mother's visit was an-
nounced, accompanied by a matron I
passed into a small oblong room. There
a grilled screen confronted me ; a yard or
two beyond was & second barrier identi-
cal in structure, and behind it I could
see the form of my mother, and sitting
in the space between the grilles, thus addi-
tionally separating us, was a prison ma-
tron. No kiss; not even a clasp of the
hand; no privacy sacred to mother and
daughter; not a whisper could pass be-
tween us. Was not this the very depth of
humiliation?
My mother crossed every two months
from France to visit me. Neither heat nor
cold deterred her from taking this fatiguing
journey. Thus again and again she trav
eled a hundred miles for love of me, to
cheer, comfort, and console; a hundred
miles for thirty minutes I
At these visits she would tell me as best
she could of the noble, unwearied efforts
of my countrymen and countrywomen in
my cause ; of the sympathy and support of
my own Government ; of the earnest efforts
of the different American ambassadors in
my behalf. And though their efforts
proved all in vain, the knowledge of their
belief in my innocence, and of their sympa-
thy comforted, cheered, and strengthened
me to tread bravely the thorny path of my
daily life,
Almost before we had time to compose
ourselves there would come a silent sign
from the mute matron in the chair — ^the
thirty minutes had passed. " Good-by," we
say, with a lingering look, and then turn our
backs upon each other, she to go one way,
I another ; one leading out into the broad,
open day, the other into the stony gloom
of the prison. Do you wonder that when
I went back into my lonely cell the day
had become darker? I went forth to meet
a crown of joy and love, only to return
with a cross of sorrow; for these visits
always created passionate longings for
freedom, with their vivid recollections of
past joys that at times were almost unbear-
able. No one will ever know what my
mother suffered.
A Letter from Lord Russell
As the years passed the repression of
the prison system developed a kind of
mental numbness which rendered my life,
in a measure, more endurable. It also
came as a relief to my own sufferings to
take an interest in those of my fellow pris-
oners. Then Lord Russell of Killowen
wrote me a letter* expressing his continued
confidence in me, which greatly renewed
my courage, while the loving messages from
my friends in America kept alive my faith
in human nature.
Punished for Another's Fault
By the exercise of great self-control and
restraint I had maintained a perfect good-
conduct record at Woking for a period of
years, when an act of one of my fellow pris-
oners got me into grievous trouble.
It is the rule to search daily both the cell
and the person of all prisoners — those at
hard labour three times a day — to make
sure that they have nothing concealed with
which they may do themselves bodily in-
jury.
To me it is a bitter indignity. I was
never allowed to forget that, being a pris-
oner, even my body was not my own. It
was horrible to be touched by unfriendly
hands, yet I Was compelled to submit
— to be undressed and be searched. Dur-
ing the term of my imprisonment I was
searched about ten thousand times, and on
only one occasion was anything found con-
trary to regulations. I had no knowledge
of it at the time, as the article had been
placed surreptitiously in my cell by another
prisoner to save herself from punishment
The facts are as follows: I was Working
in the kitchen, when a prisoner upset some
boiling water on my foot. I thought it
best not to speak of it, and did hot, there-
fore, mention it to any one. My foot, how-
ever, became inflamed and caused me great
pain, and the prisoner in question, noticing
that t limped, inquired what the matter
was. I told her that the coarse wool of my
stocking was irritating the blister on my
foot. Thereupon she offered to give me
some wool of a finer quality with which to
knit a more comfortable pair. I was not
aware at the time that this was not permit-
ted, nor that the wool was stolen. When
it neared her turn to be searched, having
a lot of this worsted concealed in her bed,
she made the excuse of indisposition in
order to return to her cell and get rid of it.
While there she transferred it from her
cell to mine, its neighbour, the doors of the
cells being open during working-time.
When the time came to search my cell,
the wool was, of course, found, and I was
at once reported. The warder took me to
the penal ward, and I was shut in a cell, in
which the light came but dimly through a
perforated sheet of iron. This was at eight
A.M. At ten o'clock I was brought before
the governor for examination and judg-
ment. I stated that the wool did not be-
long to me and that I was ignorant as to
how it got into my cell. The governor
took the officer's deposition to the effect
that it was found in my cell, and reasoned
that I must, therefore, have knowledge of
the article. I was taken back to the pun-
ishment cell and left there for eight hours.
When the officer opened the door to read
to me the governor's judgment, I was
found in a dead faint on the floor. With
some difficulty I was restored to conscious-
ness and was then removed to the hospital.
When I had sufficiently recovered from
the shock, I was allowed to return to my
own cell in the hall to do my punishment.
I was degraded for a month to a lower
stage, with a loss of twenty-six marks, and
had six days added to my original sentence.
Had this offense occurred under the
more enlightened system that obtains at
Aylesbury Prison at the present time, I
should have been forgiven, as it was a first
o£fense under this particular rule. The
governor at Woking was a just and hu-
mane man, and he was not a little troubled
to reconcile the fact of my being in posses-
sion of this worsted, when I had no means
of access to the tailor shop or of coming in
contact with any of the workers there who
alone had the handling of it. Of course, I
could not explain that the worsted had
been passed into the kitchen by one of the
tailoresses, who came every morning to
fetch hot water for use in the tailor-room,
and who was a friend of the prisoner who
put it in my cell.
I was kept in the hall during the months
of my penal punishment, and also for
twelve months thereafter, since at that
time a "report" always carried with it a
loss of the privilege of working in the
kitchen. When I had an opportunity, in
" association time," of speaking to the pris-
oner who had got me into this trouble, and
reproached her for the injury she had done
me, she frankly confessed her deed, but ex-
cused herself by saying that she did not
expect I would be punished ; that she was
tempted to do it because at that time her
case was under consideration at the Home
Office, and that she had received the prom-
ise of an early discharge if she did not have
any "reports." She well knew that if this
worsted had been found in her cell this
promise would have been revoked. As she
was a "life woman," and had served a long
time, I had not the heart to deprive her of
this, perhaps her only chance of freedom,
through a vindication of myself. A week
later I had the satisfaction of knowing that
my silence had been the means of her lib-
eration.
Forms of Punishment
The punishment of prisoners at Woking
consisted of :
1. Loss of marks, termed in prison par-
lance, "remission on her sentence," but
without confinement in the penal ward.
2. Solitary confinement for twenty-four
hours in the penal ward, with loss of marks.
3. Solitary confinement, with loss of
marks, on bread and water from one to
three days.
4. Solitary confinement, with loss of
marks, on bread and water for three days,
either in a strait-jacket or "hobbles."
Hobbling consists in binding the wrists
and ankles of a prisoner, then strapping
them together behind her back. This
position causes great suffering, is bar-
barous, and can be enforced only by the
doctor's orders.
5. To the above was sometimes added,
in violent cases, shearing and blistering of
the head, or confinement in the dark cell.
The dark cell was underground, and' con-
sisted of four walls, a ceiling, and a floor,
with double doors, in which not a ray of
light penetrated. No. 5 punishment was
abolished at Aylesbury, but in that prison
even to give a piece of bread to a fellow
prisoner is still a punishable offense.
The True Aim of Punishment
Punishment should be carried out in a
humane, sympathetic spirit, and not in a
dehumanizing or tyrannous manner. It
should be remedial in character, and not
degrading and deteriorating. It should be
the aim and object of the prison system
to send a prisoner back into the world ca-
pable of rehabilitating himself or herself
and becoming a useful citizen. The pun-
ishment in a convict prison, within my
knowledge, is carried out in an oppressive
way, the delinquent is left entirely to her-
self to work out her own salvation, and in
nine cases out of ten she works out her
own destruction instead, and leaves prison
hardened, rancorous, and demoralized.
The Evil of Collective Punishment
There are so many prisoners with whom
complaint-making is a mania, who on
every possible occasion make trivial, exag-
gerated, and false complaints, that it is not
altogether strange that officials look with
a certain skepticism on all fault-finding;
hence it frequently happens that those
with just grievances are discredited be-
cause of the shortcomings of the habitual
grumblers. At the same time, one can
not disapprove too strongly of collective
punishment which involves the utter ab-
sence of trust in any prisoner, however
deserving. A prisoner slightly abuses a
privilege or is guilty of some small in-
fringement of the rules, when down comes
the hammer wielded by the inexorable
Penal Code, and strikes not only the one
offending, but, in its expansive dealing, all
the other prisoners, guilty or innocent of
the offense. Many a privilege, trivial in
itself and absolutely harmless, has been
condemned because of its abuse by one
prisoner.
I cite one instance. Each cell was pro-
vided with a nail on which, during the day,
the prisoner could hang a wet towel, and,
during the night, her clothes. Those who
worked in the laundry came in with wet
clothing every evening, which, as no change
is allowed, must be either dried at night or
put on wet the next morning. One pris.
oner pulled her nail out and purposely
wounded herself. She was weak-minded,
and no doubt thought to excite pity. The
matter was referred to the director, Mr.
Pennythorne, who gave the order that all
the nails throughout the building be re-
moved. Hence, because of the shortcom-
ings of one weak-minded woman, all oppor-
tunity for the working women to dry their
clothes was taken from them. Others be-
sides myself appealed to the director and
protested. He replied that we would be
obliged to submit to the edict the same as
the rest, and that no distinction could be
made in our favor. Of course we could
not argue the matter; the penalty fell
heavier upon the laundry women and the
kitchen workers than upon myself. It is
a glaring instance of the great wrong done
by collective punishment. However, the
prisoners had their revenge, for they never
referred to him afterward except as " Mr.
Pennynails."
The Evil of Constant Supervision
Individual supervision is compulsory,
and in many cases it is essential, but not
in all. Surely there are some prisoners
also might, with good results, be trusted.
The supervision is never relaxed ; the pris-
oner is always in sight or hearing of an
officer. During the day she is never trust-
ed out of sight, and at night the watchful
eye of the night officer can see her by
means of a small glass fitted in the door of
each cell. She may grow gray during the
length of her imprisonment, but the rule
of supervision is never relaxed, Try and
realize what it means always to feel that
you are watched. After all, these prison-
ers are women, some may be mothers, and
it is surely the height of wickedness and
folly to crush whatever remnant of human-
ity and self-respect even a convict woman
may still have left her. These poor crea-
tures who wear the brand of prison shame
are guarded and controlled by women, but
men make the rules which regulate every
movement of their forlorn lives.
Some Good Points of Convict Prisons
The rules of prison, rigorous as they
are, are not wholly without some consider-
ation for the hapless beings who are con-
demned to suffer punishment for their sins
within their gloomy walls. On the men's
side the system is harsher, the life harder,
and the discipline more strict and severe ;
and I can well believe that for a man of
refinement and culture the punishment
falls little short of a foretaste of inferno.
But gloomy and tragic as the convict es-
tablishment is, it is a better place than the
county prison, and I have heard habitual
criminals avow that a convict prison is the
nearest approach to a comfortable " home "
in the penal world. I know that a certain
type of degenerate women, after serving
their sentences, have committed grave
offenses with the sole object of obtaining a
conviction which would send them back to
penal servitude. For such the segregation
system would be the most effectual rem-
edy.
My Sickness.
I had never been a robust woman, and
the hardships of prison life were breaking
down my constitution. The cells at Wo-
king were not heated. In the halls were
two fireplaces and a stove, which were
alight day and night; but as the solid
doors of the cells were all locked, the heat
could not penetrate them. Thus, while
the atmosphere outside the cell might be
warm, the inside was icy cold. During
the hard winter frosts the water frequently
froze in my cell over night. The bed-
clothing was insufficient, and I suffered as
much from the cold as the poorest and
most miserable creature on earth. Added
to this, I was compelled to go out and ex-
ercise in all kinds of weather. On rainy
days I would come in with my shoes and
stockings wet through, and as I possessed
only one pair of shoes and one pair of
stockings, I had to keep them on, wet as
they were. The shoes I had to wear until
worn out; the stockings until changed on
the Saturday of each week, which was the
only day a change of any kind of under-
wear could be obtained, no matter in what
condition it might be. Therefore, the ma-
jority of the inmates in the winter time
seldom had dry feet, if there was much
rain or snow, the natural result being ca-
tarrh, influenza, bronchitis, and rheuma-
tism, from all of which I suffered in turn.
Taken to the Infirmary
As long as the prisoner is not feverish
she is treated in her own cell in the ward,
her food remaining the ordinary prison
dietary; but as soon as her temperature
rises, as occurred in my case frequently,
she is admitted as a patient to the infirm-
ary, where she is fed according to medical
prescription.
The infirmary stands a little detached
from the prison grounds. It has several
wards, containing from six to fifteen beds,
and several cells for cases that require iso-
lation. The beds are placed on each side
of the room, and are covered with blue
and white counterpanes. At the head of
each is a shelf, on which stand two cups,
a plate, and a diet card. In the middle
of each room is a long deal table. On the
walls are a few old Scriptural pictures.
The Utter Desolation of a Sick
Prisoner
When a prisoner is admitted she is first
weighed and then allotted a bed. Her
food and medicine are given her by an
officer, who places it on a chair at her bed-
side if she is too ill to sit at the table.
The doctor makes his rounds in the morn-
ing and evening, and if the patient is
seriously ill he may make a visit in the
night also. The matron in charge goes
through the wards at stated times to see
that all is going well, but there is no
nursing. The prisoner must attend to her
own wants, and if too weak to do so, she
must depend upon some other patient less
ill than herself to assist her. To be sick
in prison is a terrible experience. I felt
acutely the contrast between former ill-
nesses at home and the desolation and the
indifference of the treatment under condi-
tions afforded by a prison infirmary. To
lie all day and night, perhaps day after day,
and week after week, alone and in silence,
without the touch of a friendly hand, the
sound of a friendly voice, or a single ex-
pression of sympathy or interest! The
misery and desolation of it all can not be
described. It must be experienced. I ar-
rived at Woking ill, and I left Woking ill.
At Aylesbury Prison
Removal from Woking
I had been admitted to the infirmary
suffering from a feverish cold. I had
been in bed a fortnight and was feeling
very weak, when, on the morning of No-
vember 4, 1896, I awoke to find the ma-
tron standing at my bedside. " Maybrick,"
she said, " the governor has given orders
that you are to be removed to-day to
Aylesbury Prison. Get up at once."
Without a word of explanation she left. I
had become a living rule of obedience, and
so with trembling hands dressed myself.
Presently I heard footsteps approaching.
A female warder entered with a long, dark
cloak covered with broad arrows, the insig-
nia of the convict. I was told to put on
this garment of shame. Then, supported
by the warder, I crossed the big yard to the
chief matron's office. There other women
of the "Star Class" were waiting, hand-
cuffed. A male warder stepped forward
and told me to hold out my hands, where-
upon he fastened on a pair of handcuffs and
chained me to the rest of the gang. This
was done by means of a chain which ran
through an outer ring attached to each
pair of handcuffs, thus uniting ten women
in a literal chain-gang. This was to me
the last straw of degradation — the parting
indignity of hateful Woking; but, happily,
this was a painful prelude to a more merci-
ful regime at Aylesbury.
I clipped this from a rather interesting website, which in turn nabbed it from Google Books.
http://wokingprison.blogspot.com/2009/02/famous-inmate-florence-maybrick.html
Woking Invalid Convict Prison
This blog is dedicated to Woking Invalid Convict Prison (circa 1858) which later became Inkerman Barracks, Knaphill.
Mrs. Maybrick's Own Story, MY FIFTEEN LOST YEARS
ON the morning of the 29th of August
I was hastily awakened by a female
warder, who said that orders had come
down from the Home Office for my removal
that day to a convict prison.
When I left, the governor was standing
at the gate, and, with a kindliness of voice
which I deeply appreciated, told me to be
brave and good.
A crowd was in waiting at the station.
I was roughly hustled through it into a
third-class carriage.
The only ray of light that penetrated
those dark hours of my journey came from
an American woman. God bless her,
whoever she is or wherever she is! At
every station that the train stopped she got
out and came to the carriage door and
spoke words of sympathy and comfort.
She was the first of my countrywomen to
voice to me the protest that swelled into
greater volume as the years rolled by.
As the train drew up at Woking station a
crowd assembled. Outside stood a cab, to
which I was at once conducted, and we
drove through lovely woods; the scent of
flowers was wafted by the breeze into what
seemed to be a hearse that was bearing me
on toward my living tomb.
As we approached the prison the great
iron gate swung wide, and the cab drove
silently into the yard. There I descended.
The governor gave an order, and a woman
— who I afterward found was assistant
superintendent — came forward. Accom-
panied by her and an officer, I was led
across a near-by yard to a building which
stood somewhat apart from the others and
is known as the infirmary. There a princi-
pal matron received me, and the assistant
superintendent and the chief matron re-
turned to their quarters.
The Convict Uniform
In the grasp of what seemed to me a hor-
rible nightmare, I found myself in a cell
with barred windows, a bed, and a chair.
Without, the stillness of death reigned. I
remained there perhaps half an hour when
the door opened and I was commanded by
a female warder to follow her. In a daze
I obeyed mechanically. We crossed the
same yard again and entered a door that
led into a room containing only a fireplace,
a table, and a bath. Here I was told to
take off my clothes, as those I had traveled
in had to be sent back to the prison at Liv-
erpool, where they belonged.
When I was dressed in the uniform to
which the greatest stigma and disgrace is
attached, I was told to sit down. The
warder then stepped quickly forward, and
with a pair of scissors cut off my hair to the
nape of my neck. This act seemed, above
all others, to bring me to a sense of my
degradation, my utter helplessness; and
the iron of the awful tragedy, of which I
was the innocent victim, entered my soul.
I was then weighed and my height taken.
My weight was one hundred and twelve
pounds, and my height five feet three
inches.
Once more I was bidden to: follow my
guide. We recrossed the yard and entered
the infirmary. Here I was locked in the
cell already mentioned. At last I could be
alone after the anguish and torture of the
day. I prayed for sleep that I might lose
consciousness of my intolerable anguish.
But sleep, that gentle nurse of the sad and
suffering, came not. What a night 1 I
shudder even now at the memory of it
Physically exhausted, smarting with the
thought of the cruel, heartless way in which
I had been beaten down and trodden under
foot, I felt that mortal death would have
been more merciful than the living death
to which I was condemned. In the adjoin-
ing cell an insane woman was raving and
weeping throughout the night, and I won-
dered whether in the years to come I should
become like her.
The next day I was visited by the govern-
or on his official rounds. Then the doc-
tor came and made a medical examination,
and ordered me to be detained in the infir-
mary until further orders. My mind is a
blank as to what happened for some time
afterward. My next remembrance is being
told by a coarse-looking, harsh-spoken fe-
male warder to get ready to go into the
prison. Once more • I was led across the
big yard, and then I stood within the walls
that were to be for years my tomb. Out-
side the sun was shining and the birds were
singing.
In Solitary Confinement
Without, picture a vast outline of frown-
ing masonry. Within, when I had passed
the double outer gates and had been locked
out and locked in in succession, I found
myself in a central hall, from which ran
cage-like galleries divided into tiers and
landings, with a row of small cells on either
side. The floors are of stone, the landings
of slate, the railings of steel, and the stairs
of iron. Wire netting is stretched over the
lowest tier to prevent prisoners from throw-
ing themselves over in one of those frenzies
of rage and despair of which every prison
has its record. Within their walls can be
found, above all places, that most degra-
ding, heart-breaking product of civilization,
a human automaton. All will, all initiative,
all individuality, all friendship, all the
things that make human beings attractive
to one another, are absent. Suffering there
is dumb, and when it goes beyond endur-
ance — alas !
I followed the warder to a door, perhaps
not more than two feet in width. She un-
locked it and said, " Pass in.*' I stepped
.forward, but started back in horror.
Through the open door I saw, by the dim
light of a small window that was never
cleaned, a cell seven feet by four.
Oh, don't put me in there!" I cried,
I can not bear it."
For answer the warder took me rough-
ly by the shoulder, gave me a push, and
shut the door. There was nothing to sit
upon but the cold slate floor. I sank to
my knees. I felt suffocated. It seemed
that the walls were drawing nearer and
nearer together, and presently the life
would be crushed out of me. I sprang to
my feet and beat wildly with my hands
against the door. " For God's sake let me
out ! Let me out ! " But my voice could
not penetrate that massive barrier, and ex-
hausted I sank once more to the floor. I
can not recall those nine months of solitary
confinement without a feeling of horror.
My cell contained only a hammock rolled
up in a corner, and three shelves let into the
wall-^no table nor stool. For a seat I was
compelled to place my bedclothes on the
floor.
The Daily Routine
No one can realize the horror of solitary
confinement who has not experienced it.
Here is one day's routine: It is six o'clock;
I arise and dress in the dark ; I put up my
hammock and wait for breakfast. I hear
the ward officer in the gallery outside. I
take a tin plate and a tin mug in my hands
and stand before the cell door. Presently
the door opens ; a brown, whole-meal, six-
ounce loaf is placed upon the plate ; the tin
mug is taken, and three-quarters of a pint
of gruel is measured in my presence, when
the mug is handed back in silence, and the
door is closed and locked. After I have
taken a few mouthfuls of bread I begin to
scrub my cell. A bell rings and my door
is again unlocked- No word is spoken,
because I know exactly what to do. I
leave my cell and fall into single file, three
paces in the rear of my nearest fellow con-
vict. All of us are alike in knowing what
we have to do, and we march away silently
to Divine service. We are criminals under
punishment, and our keepers march us like
dumb cattle to the worship of God. To
me the twenty minutes of its duration were
as an oasis in a weary desert. When it
came to an end I felt comforted, and always
a little more resigned to my fate. Chapel
over, I returned directly to my cell, for I
was in solitary confinement, and might not
enjoy the privilege of working in company
with my prison companions.
Work I must, but I must work alone.
Needlework and knitting fall to my lot.
My task for the day is handed to me, and I
sit in my cell plying my needle, with the
consciousness that I must not indulge in
an idle moment, for an unaccomplished
task means loss of marks, and loss of marks
means loss of letters and visits. As chapel
begins at 8 130 I am back in my cell soon
after nine, and the requirement is that I
shall make one shirt a day — certainly not
less than five shirts a week. If I am obsti-
nate or indolent, I shall be reported by the
ward officer, and be brought to book with
punishment — perhaps reduced to a diet of
bread and water and total confinement in
my cell for twenty-four hours. If I am
faint, weak, or unwell, I may be excused
the full performance of my task ; but there
must be no doubt of my inability. In such
case it is for me to have my name entered
for the prison doctor, and obtain from him
the indulgence that will remit a portion of
my prescribed work to three or four shirts.
However, as I am well, I work automat-
ically, closely, and with persistence. Then
comes ten o'clock, and with it the governor
with his escort. He inspects each cell, and
if all is not as it should be, the prisoner will
hear of it. There is no friendly greeting
of "Good-morning" nor parting "Good-
night" within those gloomy walls. The
tone is formal and the governor says:
" How are you, Maybrick? Any com-
plaints? Do you want anything?" and
then he passes on. Then I am again alone
with my work and my brooding thoughts.
I never made complaints. One but adds
to one's burden by finding causes for com-
plaint. With the coming and the going
of the governor the monotony returns to
stagnation.
The Exercise Hour
Presently, however, the prison bell rings
again. I know what the clangor means,
and mechanically lay down my work. It
is the hour for exercise, and I put on my
bonnet and cape. One by one the cell
doors of the ward are opened. One by one
we come out from our cells and fall into
single file. Then, with a ward officer in
charge, we march into the exercise yard.
We have drawn up in line, three paces
apart, and this is the form in which we
tramp around the yard and take our exer-
cise. This yard is perhaps forty feet
square, and there are thirty-five of us to
expand in its "freedom." The inclosure
is oppressively repulsive. Stone-flagged,
hemmed within ugly walls, it gives one a
hideous feeling of compression. It seems
more like a bear-pit than an airing ground
for human beings. But I forget that we
are not here to have things made easy,
comfortable, and pleasant for us. We are
here to be punished, to be scourged for our
crimes and misdeeds. Can you wonder
that human nature sometimes revolts and
dares even prison rigor? Human instincts
may be suppressed, but not wholly crushed.
There were at Woking two yards in
which flowers and green trees were visible,
but it was only in after years that I was per-
mitted to take my exercise in these yards,
and then only half an hour on Sunday.
When the one hour for exercise is over,
in a file as before, we tramp .back to our
work. Confined as we are for twenty-two
hours in our narrow, gloomy cells, the ex-
ercise, dull as it is, is our only opportunity
for a glimpse of the sky and for a taste of
outdoor life, and affords our only relief from
an otherwise almost unbearable day.
The Midday Meal
At noon the midday meal. The first
sign of its approach is the sound of the fa-
tigued party of prisoners bringing the food
from the kitchen into the ward. I hear
the ward officer passing with the weary
group from cell to cell, and presently she
will reach my door. My food is handed to
me, then the door is closed and double
locked* In the following two hours, hav-
ing finished my meal, I can work or read.
At two o'clock the fatigue party again goes
on its mechanical round ; the cell door is
again unlocked, this time for the collection
of dinner-cans. The meal of each prisoner
is served out by weight, and the law allows
her to claim her full quantity to the utter-
most fraction of an ounce. She is even en-
titled to see it weighed if she fancies it falls
short. Work is then resumed until five
o'clock, when gruel and bread is again
served, as at breakfast, with half an hour
for its disposal. From that time on until
seven o'clock more work, when again is
heard the clang of the prison bell, and with
it comes the end of our monotonous day.
I take down my hammock, and once more
await the opening of the door. We have
learned exactly what to do. With the
opening of our cells we go forward, and
each places her broom outside the door. So
shall it be known that we each have been
visited in our cells before the locking of
our doors and gates for the night. If any
of us are taking medicine by the doctor's
orders we now receive it. On through the
ten long, weary hours of the night the
night officers patrol the wards, keeping
watch, and through a glass peep-hole si-
lently inspect us in our beds to see that
nothing is amiss.
The Cruelty of Solitary Confinement
Solitary confinement is by far the most
cruel feature of English penal servitude.
It inflicts upon the prisoner at the com-
mencement of her sentence, when most
sensitive to the horrors which prison pun-
ishment entails, the voiceless solitude, the
hopeless monotony, the long vista of to-
morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow stretching
before her, all filled with desolation and de-
spair. Once a prisoner has crossed the
threshold of a convict prison, not only is
she dead to the world, but she is expected
in word and deed to lose or forget every
vestige of her personality. Verily,
The mills of the gods grind slowly.
But they grind exceeding small.
And woe to the wight unholy
On whom those millstones fall.
So it is with the Penal Code which di-
rects this vast machinery, doing its utmost
with tireless, ceaseless revolutions to mold
body and soul slowly, remorselessly, into
the shape demanded by Act of Parliament.
The Period of Probation
A Change of Cell
The day I had completed the nine months of
solitary confinement I entered upon a new stage,
that of probationfor nine months. I was
taken from Hall G to Hall A. There were in Woking
seven halls, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, separated by
two barred doors and a narrow passage.
Every hall has three wards. The female
warder who accompanied me locked me in
my cell. I looked around with a sense of
intense relief. The cell was as large again
as the one I had left. The floor was of
wood instead of slate. It contained a camp
bedstead on which was placed a so-called
mattress, consisting of a sack the length of
the bed, stuffed with coir, the fiber of the
coconut. There were also provided two
coarse sheets, two blankets, and a red
counterpane. In a corner were three iron
shelves let in the wall one above the other.
On the top shelf was folded a cape, and on
top of this there was a small, coarse straw
bonnet. The second shelf contained a tin
cup, a tin plate, a wooden spoon, and a
salt-cellar. The third shelf was given up to
a slate, on which might be written com-
plaints or requests to the governor ; it is a
punishable offense in prison to write with
a pencil or on any paper not provided.
There was also a Bible, a prayer-book
and hymn-book, and a book from the libra-
ry. Near the door stood a log of wood up-
right, fastened to the floor, and this was
the only seat in the cell. It was immovable,
and so placed that the prisoner might al-
ways be in view of the warder. Near it, let
into the wall, was a piece of deal board,
which answered for a table. Through an
almost opaque piece of square glass light
glimmered from the hall, the only means of
lighting the cell at night ; facing this, high
up, was a barred window admitting light
from the outside.
Evils of the Silent System
The routine of my daily life was the
same as during "solitary confinement."
The cell door may be open, but its outer
covering or gate is locked, and, although I
knew there was a human creature sepa-
rated from me only by a cell wall and an-
other gate, not a whisper might I breathe.
There is no rule of prison discipline so pro-
ductive of trouble and disaster as the " silent
system," and the tyrannous and rigorous
method with which it is enforced is the
cause of two-thirds of all the misconduct
and disturbance that occurs in prison.
The silence rule gives supreme gratifica-
tion to the tyrannous officer, for on the
slightest pretext she can report a woman
for talking — a turn of the head, a move-
ment of the lips is enough of an excuse for
a report. And there is heavy punishment
that can be inflicted for this offense, both
in the male and female prisons. An offend-
er may be consigned to solitary confine-
ment, put for three days on bread and wa-
ter, or suffer the loss of a week's remission,
which means a week added to her term of
imprisonment — and all this for incautiously
uttering a word.
Unless it be specifically intended as a
means of torture, the system of solitary
confinement, even for four months, the
term to which it has since been reduced,
can meet only with condemnation. I am
convinced that, within limits, the right of
speech and the interchange of thought, at
least for two hours daily, even during pro-
bation, would insure better discipline than
perpetual silence, which can be enforced
only by a complete suppression of nature,
and must result in consequent weakness of
mind and ruin of temper. During the first
months of her sentence a prisoner is more
frequently in trouble for breach of this one
rule than from all other causes. The re-
duction of the term of probation from nine
to four months has been followed by a re-
duction in mental afflictions, which is proof
that nothing wholesome or good can have
its growth in unnatural solitude.
The silent system has a weakening ef-
fect upon the memory. A prisoner often
finds difficulty in deciding upon the pro-
nunciation of words which she has not
heard for a considerable period. I often
found myself, when desirous of using unu-
sual words, especially in French or Ger-
man, pronouncing them to myself in order
to fix the pronunciation in my memory.
It is well to bear in mind what a small
number of words the prisoner has an op-
portunity of using in the monotony of pris-
on life. The same inquiries are made day
after day, and the same responses given.
A vocabulary of one hundred words will
include all that a prisoner habitually uses.
Insanity and Nervous Breakdown of
Prisoners
No defender of the silent system pre-
tends that it wholly succeeds in preventing
speech among prisoners. But be that as it
may, a period of four months' solitary con-
finement in the case of a female, and six
months' in the case of a male, and espe-
cially of a girl or youth, is surely a crime
against civilization and humanity. Such a
punishment is inexpressible torture to both
mind and body. I speak from experience.
The torture of continually enforced silence
is known to produce insanity or nervous
breakdown more than any other feature
connected with prison discipline. Since
the passing of the Act of 1898, mitigating
this form of punishment, much good has
been accomplished, as is proved by the
' diminution of insanity in prison life, the
decreasing scale of prison punishment, and
the lessening of the death-rate. By still
further reducing this barbarous practise,
sponding happy results may confidently be
expected. The more the prisoners are
placed under conditions and amid sur-
roundings calculated to develop a better
life, the greater is the hope that the system
will prove curative ; but so long as prison-
ers are subjected to conditions which have
a hardening effect at the very beginning of
their prison life, there is little chance of ul-
timate reformation.
Need of Separate Confinement for the Weak-Minded
There are many women who hover about
the borderland of insanity for months, pos-
sibly for years. They are recognized as
weak-minded, and consequently they make
capital out of their condition, and by the
working of their distorted minds, and petty
tempers, and unreasonable jealousy, add
immeasurably not only to the ghastliness of
the " house of sorrow," but are a sad clog
on the efforts to self-betterment of their
level-minded sisters in misery. Of these
many try hard to make the best of what
has to be gone through. Therefore, is it
necessary, is it wise, is it right that such a
state of things should be allowed? The
weak-minded should be kept in a separate
place, with their own officers to attend
them. Neither the weak-minded, the epi-
leptic, nor the consumptives were isolated.
There is great need of reform wherever
this is the case. Prisoners whose behavior
is different from the normal should be sep-
arated from the other prisoners, and made
to serve out their sentences under specially
adapted conditions.
I read in the newspapers that insanity is
on the increase ; this fact is clearly reflect-
ed within the prison walls. It is stated
that the insane form about three per thou-
sand of the general population. In local
English prisons insanity, it is said, even
after deducting those who come in insane,
is seven times more prevalent than among
the general population.
Reading an Insufficient Relaxation
The nervous crises do not now supervene
so frequently as formerly in the case of
prisoners of a brooding disposition, but the
fact remains that, in spite of the slight
amelioration, mental light is still excluded
— that communion on which rests all hu-
man well-being. The vacuity of the soli-
tary system, to some at least, is partially
lighted by books. But what of those who
can not read, or who have not sufficient
concentration of mind to profit by reading
as a relaxation ? There are many such, in
spite of the high standard of free educa-
tion that prevails at the present day. The
shock of the trial, and the uprooting of a
woman's domestic ties, coupled with the
additional mental strain of having to start
her prison career in solitary confinement,
is surely neither humane, nor merciful, nor
wise. These months of solitary confine-
ment leave an ineffaceable mark. It is
during the first lonely months that the seeds
of bitterness and hardness of heart are
sown, and it requires more than a passive
resistance — nay, nothing short of an unfal-
tering faith and trust in an overruling Provi-
dence — to bring a prisoner safely through
the ordeal. Let the sympathetic reader try
to realize what it means never to feel the
touch of anything soft or warm, never to
see anything that is attractive — nothing
but stone above, around, and beneath. The
deadly chill creeps into one's bones; the
bitter days of winter and the still bitterer
nights were torture, for Woking Prison was
not heated. My hands and feet were cov-
ered with chilblains.
My Sufferings from Cold and Insomnia
Oh, the horrors of insomnia! If one
could only forget one's sufferings in sleep !
During all the fifteen years of my impris-
onment, insomnia was (and, alas I is still)
my constant companion. Little wonder!
I might fall asleep, when suddenly the
whole prison is awakened by shriek upon
shriek, rending the stillness of the night.
I am now, perforce, fully awake. Into
my ears go tearing all the shrill exe-
crations and blasphemies, all the hideous
uproars of an inferno, compounded of
bangs, shrieks, and general demoniac ra-
gings. The wild smashing of glass startles
the halls. I lie in my darkened cell with
palpitating heart. Like a savage beast, the
woman of turmoil has torn her clothing
and bedding into shreds, and now she is
destroying all she can lay hands on. The
ward officers are rushing about in slippered
feet, the bell rings summoning the ward-
ers, who are always needed when such out-
bursts occur, and the woman, probably in a
strait-jacket, is borne to the penal cells.
Then stillness returns to the ghastly place,
and with quivering nerves I may sleep — if
I can.
Medical Attendance
But what if one is ill in the night ? The
lonely prisoner in her cell may summon aid
by ringing the bell. The moment it is set
in motion it causes a black iron slab to pro-
ject from the outer wall of her cell in the
gallery. On the slab is the prisoner's num-
ber, and the ward officer, hearing the bell,
at once looks for the cell from which the
call has been sent. Presently she finds it,
then fetches the principal matron, and to-
gether they enter the hard, unhomelike
place. If the prisoner is ill they call the
doctor of the prison, and medicines and aid
will be given. But sympathy is no part
of their official duty, and be the warder
never so tender in her own domestic circle,
tenderness must not be shown toward a
prisoner. The patient may be removed
from her cell to the infirmary, where they
will care for her medically, perhaps as well
as they would in a hospital ; she may even
receive a few flowers from an infirmary
warder whose heart comes out from its
official shell ; but through it all, sick though
she be, she is still a prisoner under lock
and key, a woman under surveillance, a
woman denied communion with her kind.
Added Sufferings of the Delicately
Nurtured
What words can adequately describe the
long years, blank and weary enough for all
prisoners, but which are indescribably so
to one who has been delicately nurtured ! I
had enjoyed the refinements of social life ;
I had pitied, and tried, as far as lay in my
power, to help the poor and afflicted, but
I had never known anything of the bar-
barism, the sordid vices of low life. And I
was condemned to drag out existence amid
such surroundings, because twelve ignorant
men had taken upon themselves to decide
a question which neither the incompetent
judge nor the medical witnesses could
themselves determine.
So far as I can learn, there is no other
instance of a woman undoubtedly innocent
and of gentle birth, confined for a term of
nearly fifteen years in an English convict
prison. In the nature of things a delicate
woman feels more acutely than a robust
prisoner the rigors of prolonged captivity.
Neither confidence nor respect can be
secured when punishment is excessive, for
it then becomes an act of persecution, suit-
able only for ages of darkness. The su^
pineness of Parliament in not establishing
a court of criminal appeal fastens a dark
blot upon the judicature of England, and is
inconsistent with the innate love of justice
and fair play of its people.
How Criminals and Imbeciles are
Made
The law in prison is the same for the
rich as the poor, the " Star Class " as for
the ignorant, brutalized criminal. My reg-
ister was " L. P. 29." These letters and
numbers were worked in white cotton
upon a piece of black cloth. Your sen-
tence is indicated thus : " L " stands for
penal servitude for life ; " P " for the year
of conviction, which in my case was the
sixteenth year since the previous lettering.
This is done every twenty-five years. The
"29" meant that I was the twenty-ninth
convict of my year, 1889. In addition to
this register I wore a red cloth star placed
above it. The "Star Class," of which I
was a member, consisted of women who
have been convicted of one crime only,
committed in a moment of weakness or
despair, or under pressure which they were
not strong enough to resist at the time,
such as infanticide, forgery, incendiarism ;
and who, having been educated and re-
spectably brought up, betray otherwise no
criminal instincts or inclinations; and who,
when in the world, would be distinct in
character from the habitual criminal, not
only from a social point of view, but in
their virtues, faults, and crimes.
There should be separate rules and privi-
leges to meet the case of a prisoner guilty
of moral lapses only, as distinguished from
the habitual breaker of the laws. At pres-
ent the former gets the same treatment and
discipline as the habitual criminal of sev-
eral convictions, and can not claim a single
privilege that the old offender has not a
right to ask — for example, members of
both classes are limited to the same number
of letters and visits. The " Star Class " is
supposed to be kept separate from ordinary
prisoners. It was so at Woking Prison.
But at Aylesbury Prison, to which I was
transferred later, they were sandwiched be-
tween two wards of habitual criminals, with
whom they came continually in contact,
not only in passing to and from the work-
shops, fetching meals, and going to exer-
cise, but continuously. That contamina-
tion should ensue is hardly surprising. It
requires a will of iron, and nearly the spirit
of a saint, not to be corrupted by .the sights
and sounds of a prison, even when no word
is spoken. It is a serious accusation
against any system to say " that it produces
the thing it is designed to prevent," but
such, I am convinced, is the fact as regards
the manufacture of criminals and imbeciles
by the present system of penalism almost
the world over.
The Period of Hard Labor
Routine
Having passed solitary confinement
and probation, I entered upon the
third stage, hard labor, when I was per-
mitted to leave my cell to assist in carrying
meals from the kitchen, and to sit at my
door and converse with the prisoners in the
adjoining cells for two hours daily — but
always in the presence of an officer who
controls and limits the conversation. My
daily routine was now also somewhat differ-
ent from that of solitary confinement and
probation.
At six o'clock the bell rings to rise.
Half an hour later a second bell signifies to
the officers that it is time to come on duty.
Each warder in charge of certain wards
— there are three wards to each hall — then
goes to the chief matron's office, where
she receives a key wherewith to unlock the
prisoners' cells. All keys are given up by
the female warder before going off duty,
and locked for the night in an iron safe
under the charge of a male warder. When
again in possession of her key she repairs
to her ward, and at the order, " Unlock," she
lets out the prisoners to empty their slops.
This done, they are once more locked in,
with the exception of three women who go
down to the kitchen to fetch the cans of
tea and loaves of bread which make up
the prisoners' breakfast. At Woking the
breakfast was of cocoa and coarse meal
bread, while later, at Aylesbury, it con-
sisted of tea and white bread. I am con-
strained to remark here that more consid-
eration should be shown by the medical
officer toward women who complain of
being physically unfit to do heavy lift-
ing and carrying. The can is carried by
two women up two or three flights of
stairs, according to the location of their
^ward, and the bread by one woman only.
Each can contains fourteen quarts of tea,
and the bread-basket holds thirty pounds
or more of bread. To a woman with
strong muscles it may cause no distress,
but in the case of myself and others equally
frail, the physical strain was far beyond
our strength, and left us utterly exhausted
after the task.
The breakfast was served at seven
o'clock, when the officers returned to the
mess-room to take theirs. At 7 130 a bell
rang again, and the officers returned to their
respective wards. At ten minutes to eight
the order was given, " Unlock." Once
more the doors were opened. Then fol-
lowed the order, " Chapel," and each wom-
an stood at her door with Bible, prayer-
book, and hymn-book in hand. At the
words " Pass on," they file one behind the
other into the chapel, where a warder
from each ward sits with her back to the
altar that she may be able the better to
watch those under her charge and see that
they do not speak. After a service of
twenty minutes the prisoners file back to
their cells, place their books on the lower
shelf, and with a drab cape and a white
straw hat stand in readiness for the next
order, " To your doors." This given, they
descend into the hall and pass out to their
respective places of work.
Talk with the Chaplain
Many of these women have their tender,
spiritual moments. At such times they
will beg for a favorite hymn to be sung at I
the chapel service on Sunday, and their re-
quests are generally granted by the chap-
lain. He is the only friend of the pris
oner, and his work is arduous and often
thankless. He is the only one within the
walls to whom she may turn for sympathy
and advice. It may not be every woman
who gladly avails herself of the enforced
privilege of attending daily chapel. " Re-
ligion," as a terfti [sic], is unpalatable to many.
But there are very few who are not better
and happier for the few moments' unoffi-
cial talk with her chaplain, be she Protes-
tant or Roman Catholic.
It is to be regretted that his authority
is so limited, and his opportunities for
brightening the lives of those who walk in
dark places so few. Red tape and standing
orders confront him at every turn, so that
even the religious training is drawn and
sucked beneath the mighty wheel of the
Penal Code, and there is no time for per-
sonal suasion to play more than a mind
part in a convict's life.
My Work in the Kitchen
The work for first offenders, who are
called the " Star Class,*' consists of labor
in the kitchen, the mess, and the officers'
quarters^ Six months after I entered upon
the third stage I was put to Work in the
kitchen. My duties were as follows: To
wash ten cans, each holding four quarts;
to scrub one table, twenty feet in length ;
two dressers, twelve feet in length ; to wash
five hundred dinner-tins; to clean" knives;
to wash a sack of potatoes; to assist in
serving the dinners, and to scrub a piece of
floor twenty by ten feet. Besides myself
there were eight other women on hard la-
bor in the kitchen. Our day commenced
at 6 A.M., and continued until 5:30 pm.
A half hour at breakfast time, twenty min-
utes at chapel, one hour and a half after
the midday meal, and half an hour after tea
summed up our leisure. The work was
hard and rough. The combined heat of
the coppers, the stove, and the steamers
was overpowering, especially on hot sum-
mer days ; but I struggled on, doing this
work preferably to some other, because the
kitchen was the only place where the mo-
notony of prison life was broken. It was
the " show place,** and all visitors looked in
to see the food.
The Machine-made Menu
What dining in prison means may be
judged by a perusal of the schedule as
given in the Prison Commission Report:
Dost for Female Convicts
Breakfast
Three-quarters of a pint of cocoa, containing }^ ounce
of cocoa, 2 ounces milk, }i ounce of molasses.
Bread.
Dinner
Sunday. 4 ounces tinned pressed beef. Bread.
3 ounces (cooked), with its
own liquor, flavored with >^
ounce onions, and thickened
with bread and potatoes left
on previous days, % ounce
of flour, and for every 100
convicts, }i ounce of pepper.
% pound potatoes. Bread.
Saturday, i pint soup, containing 6 ounces of shins of
beef (uncooked), i ounce pearl barley, j ounces of
fresh vegetables, including onions, and for every
100 convicts, ^ ounce pepper, ji pound potatoes.
Bread.
Thursday. % pound pudding, containing i ounce 2
drams water. % pound potatoes. Bread.
Monday. Mutton
Tuesday. Beef . .
Wednesday. Mutton
Friday. Beef . . .
Supper
I pint gruel, containing: 2 ounces oatmeal, ^ ounce mo-
lasses, 2 ounces milk. Bread.
Bread per convict per week, 118 ounces.
Bread per convict each week-day, 16 ounces.
Bread per convict each Sunday, 22 ounces.
Salt per convict per day, }i ounce,*
Visitors to the Kitchen
During the four years I worked in the
kitchen I saw many people. The Duke
of Connaught, Sir Evelyn Wood and his
staff, Lord Alverston, Sir Edward du
Cane, the late Lord Rothschild, and Sir
Evelyn Ruggles-Brise, besides judges, mag
istrates, authors, philanthropists and others
* A convict employed in washing, or other exceptional
hard work, may have daily an extra allowance of 3
ounces bread, and cheese i ounce, as an intermediate
meal between breakfast and dinner, and an extra allow-
ance of I ounce of meat (uncooked) four times a week.
A convict on entering the second-class will have the
choice of i pint of tea (made of j/e ounce tea, }^ ounce of
sugar, 2 ounces milk) and 2 ounces additionally bread in
stead of gruel for supper: and a convict on entering the
first or special class will nave, in addition to the above,
the choice of 4 ounces of baked mutton cooked in its own
liquor, not flavored or thickened, instead of boiled meat
or soup, if she takes tea instead of gruel. The food is
wholesome, but spoiled by overcooking. But oh, how
jaded the palate becomes. I
of an inquiring turn of mind, who had
obtained the necessary permit to make the
tour of the prison under the escort of the
governor or one or two of his satellites.
These ladies and gentlemen expressed the
mo3t varied and sometimes startling opin-
ions. I recollect on one occasion, when
some visitors happened to be inspecting
the kitchen during the dishing up of the
hospital patients' dinner, one old gentle-
man of the party was quite scandalized at
the sight of a juicy mutton-chop and a
tempting milk pudding. He expostulated
in such a way that the governor hastened
to explain that it was not the ordinary pris-
on diet, but was intended for a very sick
woman* Even then this old gentleman
was not satisfied, and stalked out, audibly
grumbling about people living on the fat
of the land and getting a better dinner
than he did. I firmly believe that he left
the prison under the impression that its in-
mates lived like pampered gourmets, and
that he no longer marvelled there were so
many criminals when they were fed on '
such luxuries.
The "Homeuke" Cell
On another occasion a benevolent-look-
ing old lady, having given everything and
everybody as minute an inspection as
was possible, expressed herself as being
charmed, remarking:
" Everything is so nice and homelike ! "
I have often wondered what that good
lady's home was like.
A little philosophy is useful, a saving
grace, even in prison; but people have
such different ways of expressing sympa-
thy. A visitor, who I have no doubt in-
tended to be sympathetic, noticing the let-
ter " L " on my arm, inquired:
" How long a time have you to do ? "
" I have just completed ten years," was
my reply.
"Oh, well," cheerfully responded the
sympathetic one, " you have done half your
time, haven't you? The remaining ten
years will soon slip by"; and the visitor
passed on, blissfully ignorant of the sword
she had unwittingly thrust into my aching
heart. Even if a prisoner has little or no
hope of a mitigation, it is not pleasant to
have an old wound ruthlessly handled, and
ten years' imprisonment as lightly spoken
of as ten days might be.
The Opiate of Acquiescence
I preferred the kitchen work, although
often beyond my strength, to any other
that fell to a prisoner's lot, because of the
glimpses into the outside world it occasion-
ally afforded. But I never permitted my-
self to dwell upon the fact that at one time
I had been the social equal of at least the
majority of those with whom I thus came
into passing contact, since to do so would
have made my position by contrast so un-
bearable that it would have unfitted me
to do the work in a spirit of submission,
not to speak of the mental suffering which
Weakened memories would have occasioned.
I soon found that both my spiritual and my
mental salvation, under the repressive rules
in force, depended upon unresisting acqui-
escence — the keeping of my sensibilities
dulled as near as possible to the level of the
mere animal state which the Penal Code,
whether intentionally or otherwise, inevita-
bly brings about.
I have been frequently asked by friends,
since my release, how I could possibly have
endured the shut-in life vender such soul-
depressing influences. I have given here
and there in my narrative indication pf
any feelings under different circumstances.
Here I may state in general that I early
found that thoughts of without and thoughts
of within— those that haunted me of the
world and those that were ever present in
my surroundings— would not march to-
gether. I had to keep step with either the
one or the other. The conflict between the
two soon became unbearable, an4 I was
compelled to make choice : whether I would
live in the past and as much as possible ex-
clude the prison, and take the punishment
which would inevitably follow as it had
in so many cases — in an unbalanced mind ;
or would shut the past out altogether and
coerce my thoughts within the limitations
of the prison regulations. My safety lay,
as I found, in compressing my thoughts to
the smallest compass of mental existence,
and no sooner did worldly visions or
memories intrude themselves, as they nec
essarily would, than I immediately and
resolutely shut them out as one draws the
blind to exclude the light. While I thus
suppressed all emotions belonging to a nat-
ural life, I nevertheless found, whenever I
came accidentally in contact with visitors
from the outside world, that my inner na
ture was attuned like the strings of a harp
to the least vibration of others' emotions.
The slightest unconscious inflection of the
voice, whether sympathetic or otherwise,
would well forth either a grateful response
or an instant withdrawal into the armor of
reserve which I had to adopt for my self-
protection. But this exclusion of the world
created a dark background which served
only to intensify the light that shone upon
me from realms unseen of mortal eyes.
Lonely I was, yet I was never alone. But,
however satisfying the spiritual commun-
ion, the human heart is so constituted that
it needs must yearn for love and sympathy
from its own kind, for recognition of all
that is best in us, by something that is like
unto it, in its experiences, feelings, emo-
tions, and aspirations.
Visits of Prisoners' Friends
A prisoner is allowed to receive a visit
from her friends at intervals of six, four,
and two months, according to her stage of
service. There are four stages, each of
nine months' duration: first, solitary con-
finement; second, probation; while the
third and fourth stages are not specially
designated. During the first two stages
the prisoner is clothed in brown, at the
third stage in green, and the fourth in
navy blue. Every article worn by the pris-
oner or in use by her is stamped with a
" broad arrow," the convict's crest.
A visit may be forfeited by bad conduct
or delayed through a loss of marks. When
a prisoner is entitled to receive a visitor,
she applies to the governor for permission
to have the permit sent to the person she
names ; but if the police report concerning
the designated visitor is unfavorable the
request is not granted. When a prisoner's
friends— three being the maximum— arrive
at the prison gates they ring a bell. The
gatekeeper views them through a grille and
inquires their business. They show their
permit; whereupon he notifies the chief
matron, who in turn notifies the officer in
charge of the prisoner.
The rule regarding visits precluded any
discussion of prison affairs, or anything
regarding treatment, or aught that passes
within the prison walls. Had I permitted
myself to break this rule the visit would
have been stopped at once by the matron
in charge. Consequently, all this state-
ments on such matters reported from time
to time in the press during my imprisonment,
and quoted as received from my
mother or friends, are shown to be pure
fabrications.
My Mother's Visits
A visit ! What joy or what sorrow those
words express in the outside world I But
in prison— the pain of it is so great that it
can hardly be borne*
Whenever my mother's visit was an-
nounced, accompanied by a matron I
passed into a small oblong room. There
a grilled screen confronted me ; a yard or
two beyond was & second barrier identi-
cal in structure, and behind it I could
see the form of my mother, and sitting
in the space between the grilles, thus addi-
tionally separating us, was a prison ma-
tron. No kiss; not even a clasp of the
hand; no privacy sacred to mother and
daughter; not a whisper could pass be-
tween us. Was not this the very depth of
humiliation?
My mother crossed every two months
from France to visit me. Neither heat nor
cold deterred her from taking this fatiguing
journey. Thus again and again she trav
eled a hundred miles for love of me, to
cheer, comfort, and console; a hundred
miles for thirty minutes I
At these visits she would tell me as best
she could of the noble, unwearied efforts
of my countrymen and countrywomen in
my cause ; of the sympathy and support of
my own Government ; of the earnest efforts
of the different American ambassadors in
my behalf. And though their efforts
proved all in vain, the knowledge of their
belief in my innocence, and of their sympa-
thy comforted, cheered, and strengthened
me to tread bravely the thorny path of my
daily life,
Almost before we had time to compose
ourselves there would come a silent sign
from the mute matron in the chair — ^the
thirty minutes had passed. " Good-by," we
say, with a lingering look, and then turn our
backs upon each other, she to go one way,
I another ; one leading out into the broad,
open day, the other into the stony gloom
of the prison. Do you wonder that when
I went back into my lonely cell the day
had become darker? I went forth to meet
a crown of joy and love, only to return
with a cross of sorrow; for these visits
always created passionate longings for
freedom, with their vivid recollections of
past joys that at times were almost unbear-
able. No one will ever know what my
mother suffered.
A Letter from Lord Russell
As the years passed the repression of
the prison system developed a kind of
mental numbness which rendered my life,
in a measure, more endurable. It also
came as a relief to my own sufferings to
take an interest in those of my fellow pris-
oners. Then Lord Russell of Killowen
wrote me a letter* expressing his continued
confidence in me, which greatly renewed
my courage, while the loving messages from
my friends in America kept alive my faith
in human nature.
Punished for Another's Fault
By the exercise of great self-control and
restraint I had maintained a perfect good-
conduct record at Woking for a period of
years, when an act of one of my fellow pris-
oners got me into grievous trouble.
It is the rule to search daily both the cell
and the person of all prisoners — those at
hard labour three times a day — to make
sure that they have nothing concealed with
which they may do themselves bodily in-
jury.
To me it is a bitter indignity. I was
never allowed to forget that, being a pris-
oner, even my body was not my own. It
was horrible to be touched by unfriendly
hands, yet I Was compelled to submit
— to be undressed and be searched. Dur-
ing the term of my imprisonment I was
searched about ten thousand times, and on
only one occasion was anything found con-
trary to regulations. I had no knowledge
of it at the time, as the article had been
placed surreptitiously in my cell by another
prisoner to save herself from punishment
The facts are as follows: I was Working
in the kitchen, when a prisoner upset some
boiling water on my foot. I thought it
best not to speak of it, and did hot, there-
fore, mention it to any one. My foot, how-
ever, became inflamed and caused me great
pain, and the prisoner in question, noticing
that t limped, inquired what the matter
was. I told her that the coarse wool of my
stocking was irritating the blister on my
foot. Thereupon she offered to give me
some wool of a finer quality with which to
knit a more comfortable pair. I was not
aware at the time that this was not permit-
ted, nor that the wool was stolen. When
it neared her turn to be searched, having
a lot of this worsted concealed in her bed,
she made the excuse of indisposition in
order to return to her cell and get rid of it.
While there she transferred it from her
cell to mine, its neighbour, the doors of the
cells being open during working-time.
When the time came to search my cell,
the wool was, of course, found, and I was
at once reported. The warder took me to
the penal ward, and I was shut in a cell, in
which the light came but dimly through a
perforated sheet of iron. This was at eight
A.M. At ten o'clock I was brought before
the governor for examination and judg-
ment. I stated that the wool did not be-
long to me and that I was ignorant as to
how it got into my cell. The governor
took the officer's deposition to the effect
that it was found in my cell, and reasoned
that I must, therefore, have knowledge of
the article. I was taken back to the pun-
ishment cell and left there for eight hours.
When the officer opened the door to read
to me the governor's judgment, I was
found in a dead faint on the floor. With
some difficulty I was restored to conscious-
ness and was then removed to the hospital.
When I had sufficiently recovered from
the shock, I was allowed to return to my
own cell in the hall to do my punishment.
I was degraded for a month to a lower
stage, with a loss of twenty-six marks, and
had six days added to my original sentence.
Had this offense occurred under the
more enlightened system that obtains at
Aylesbury Prison at the present time, I
should have been forgiven, as it was a first
o£fense under this particular rule. The
governor at Woking was a just and hu-
mane man, and he was not a little troubled
to reconcile the fact of my being in posses-
sion of this worsted, when I had no means
of access to the tailor shop or of coming in
contact with any of the workers there who
alone had the handling of it. Of course, I
could not explain that the worsted had
been passed into the kitchen by one of the
tailoresses, who came every morning to
fetch hot water for use in the tailor-room,
and who was a friend of the prisoner who
put it in my cell.
I was kept in the hall during the months
of my penal punishment, and also for
twelve months thereafter, since at that
time a "report" always carried with it a
loss of the privilege of working in the
kitchen. When I had an opportunity, in
" association time," of speaking to the pris-
oner who had got me into this trouble, and
reproached her for the injury she had done
me, she frankly confessed her deed, but ex-
cused herself by saying that she did not
expect I would be punished ; that she was
tempted to do it because at that time her
case was under consideration at the Home
Office, and that she had received the prom-
ise of an early discharge if she did not have
any "reports." She well knew that if this
worsted had been found in her cell this
promise would have been revoked. As she
was a "life woman," and had served a long
time, I had not the heart to deprive her of
this, perhaps her only chance of freedom,
through a vindication of myself. A week
later I had the satisfaction of knowing that
my silence had been the means of her lib-
eration.
Forms of Punishment
The punishment of prisoners at Woking
consisted of :
1. Loss of marks, termed in prison par-
lance, "remission on her sentence," but
without confinement in the penal ward.
2. Solitary confinement for twenty-four
hours in the penal ward, with loss of marks.
3. Solitary confinement, with loss of
marks, on bread and water from one to
three days.
4. Solitary confinement, with loss of
marks, on bread and water for three days,
either in a strait-jacket or "hobbles."
Hobbling consists in binding the wrists
and ankles of a prisoner, then strapping
them together behind her back. This
position causes great suffering, is bar-
barous, and can be enforced only by the
doctor's orders.
5. To the above was sometimes added,
in violent cases, shearing and blistering of
the head, or confinement in the dark cell.
The dark cell was underground, and' con-
sisted of four walls, a ceiling, and a floor,
with double doors, in which not a ray of
light penetrated. No. 5 punishment was
abolished at Aylesbury, but in that prison
even to give a piece of bread to a fellow
prisoner is still a punishable offense.
The True Aim of Punishment
Punishment should be carried out in a
humane, sympathetic spirit, and not in a
dehumanizing or tyrannous manner. It
should be remedial in character, and not
degrading and deteriorating. It should be
the aim and object of the prison system
to send a prisoner back into the world ca-
pable of rehabilitating himself or herself
and becoming a useful citizen. The pun-
ishment in a convict prison, within my
knowledge, is carried out in an oppressive
way, the delinquent is left entirely to her-
self to work out her own salvation, and in
nine cases out of ten she works out her
own destruction instead, and leaves prison
hardened, rancorous, and demoralized.
The Evil of Collective Punishment
There are so many prisoners with whom
complaint-making is a mania, who on
every possible occasion make trivial, exag-
gerated, and false complaints, that it is not
altogether strange that officials look with
a certain skepticism on all fault-finding;
hence it frequently happens that those
with just grievances are discredited be-
cause of the shortcomings of the habitual
grumblers. At the same time, one can
not disapprove too strongly of collective
punishment which involves the utter ab-
sence of trust in any prisoner, however
deserving. A prisoner slightly abuses a
privilege or is guilty of some small in-
fringement of the rules, when down comes
the hammer wielded by the inexorable
Penal Code, and strikes not only the one
offending, but, in its expansive dealing, all
the other prisoners, guilty or innocent of
the offense. Many a privilege, trivial in
itself and absolutely harmless, has been
condemned because of its abuse by one
prisoner.
I cite one instance. Each cell was pro-
vided with a nail on which, during the day,
the prisoner could hang a wet towel, and,
during the night, her clothes. Those who
worked in the laundry came in with wet
clothing every evening, which, as no change
is allowed, must be either dried at night or
put on wet the next morning. One pris.
oner pulled her nail out and purposely
wounded herself. She was weak-minded,
and no doubt thought to excite pity. The
matter was referred to the director, Mr.
Pennythorne, who gave the order that all
the nails throughout the building be re-
moved. Hence, because of the shortcom-
ings of one weak-minded woman, all oppor-
tunity for the working women to dry their
clothes was taken from them. Others be-
sides myself appealed to the director and
protested. He replied that we would be
obliged to submit to the edict the same as
the rest, and that no distinction could be
made in our favor. Of course we could
not argue the matter; the penalty fell
heavier upon the laundry women and the
kitchen workers than upon myself. It is
a glaring instance of the great wrong done
by collective punishment. However, the
prisoners had their revenge, for they never
referred to him afterward except as " Mr.
Pennynails."
The Evil of Constant Supervision
Individual supervision is compulsory,
and in many cases it is essential, but not
in all. Surely there are some prisoners
also might, with good results, be trusted.
The supervision is never relaxed ; the pris-
oner is always in sight or hearing of an
officer. During the day she is never trust-
ed out of sight, and at night the watchful
eye of the night officer can see her by
means of a small glass fitted in the door of
each cell. She may grow gray during the
length of her imprisonment, but the rule
of supervision is never relaxed, Try and
realize what it means always to feel that
you are watched. After all, these prison-
ers are women, some may be mothers, and
it is surely the height of wickedness and
folly to crush whatever remnant of human-
ity and self-respect even a convict woman
may still have left her. These poor crea-
tures who wear the brand of prison shame
are guarded and controlled by women, but
men make the rules which regulate every
movement of their forlorn lives.
Some Good Points of Convict Prisons
The rules of prison, rigorous as they
are, are not wholly without some consider-
ation for the hapless beings who are con-
demned to suffer punishment for their sins
within their gloomy walls. On the men's
side the system is harsher, the life harder,
and the discipline more strict and severe ;
and I can well believe that for a man of
refinement and culture the punishment
falls little short of a foretaste of inferno.
But gloomy and tragic as the convict es-
tablishment is, it is a better place than the
county prison, and I have heard habitual
criminals avow that a convict prison is the
nearest approach to a comfortable " home "
in the penal world. I know that a certain
type of degenerate women, after serving
their sentences, have committed grave
offenses with the sole object of obtaining a
conviction which would send them back to
penal servitude. For such the segregation
system would be the most effectual rem-
edy.
My Sickness.
I had never been a robust woman, and
the hardships of prison life were breaking
down my constitution. The cells at Wo-
king were not heated. In the halls were
two fireplaces and a stove, which were
alight day and night; but as the solid
doors of the cells were all locked, the heat
could not penetrate them. Thus, while
the atmosphere outside the cell might be
warm, the inside was icy cold. During
the hard winter frosts the water frequently
froze in my cell over night. The bed-
clothing was insufficient, and I suffered as
much from the cold as the poorest and
most miserable creature on earth. Added
to this, I was compelled to go out and ex-
ercise in all kinds of weather. On rainy
days I would come in with my shoes and
stockings wet through, and as I possessed
only one pair of shoes and one pair of
stockings, I had to keep them on, wet as
they were. The shoes I had to wear until
worn out; the stockings until changed on
the Saturday of each week, which was the
only day a change of any kind of under-
wear could be obtained, no matter in what
condition it might be. Therefore, the ma-
jority of the inmates in the winter time
seldom had dry feet, if there was much
rain or snow, the natural result being ca-
tarrh, influenza, bronchitis, and rheuma-
tism, from all of which I suffered in turn.
Taken to the Infirmary
As long as the prisoner is not feverish
she is treated in her own cell in the ward,
her food remaining the ordinary prison
dietary; but as soon as her temperature
rises, as occurred in my case frequently,
she is admitted as a patient to the infirm-
ary, where she is fed according to medical
prescription.
The infirmary stands a little detached
from the prison grounds. It has several
wards, containing from six to fifteen beds,
and several cells for cases that require iso-
lation. The beds are placed on each side
of the room, and are covered with blue
and white counterpanes. At the head of
each is a shelf, on which stand two cups,
a plate, and a diet card. In the middle
of each room is a long deal table. On the
walls are a few old Scriptural pictures.
The Utter Desolation of a Sick
Prisoner
When a prisoner is admitted she is first
weighed and then allotted a bed. Her
food and medicine are given her by an
officer, who places it on a chair at her bed-
side if she is too ill to sit at the table.
The doctor makes his rounds in the morn-
ing and evening, and if the patient is
seriously ill he may make a visit in the
night also. The matron in charge goes
through the wards at stated times to see
that all is going well, but there is no
nursing. The prisoner must attend to her
own wants, and if too weak to do so, she
must depend upon some other patient less
ill than herself to assist her. To be sick
in prison is a terrible experience. I felt
acutely the contrast between former ill-
nesses at home and the desolation and the
indifference of the treatment under condi-
tions afforded by a prison infirmary. To
lie all day and night, perhaps day after day,
and week after week, alone and in silence,
without the touch of a friendly hand, the
sound of a friendly voice, or a single ex-
pression of sympathy or interest! The
misery and desolation of it all can not be
described. It must be experienced. I ar-
rived at Woking ill, and I left Woking ill.
At Aylesbury Prison
Removal from Woking
I had been admitted to the infirmary
suffering from a feverish cold. I had
been in bed a fortnight and was feeling
very weak, when, on the morning of No-
vember 4, 1896, I awoke to find the ma-
tron standing at my bedside. " Maybrick,"
she said, " the governor has given orders
that you are to be removed to-day to
Aylesbury Prison. Get up at once."
Without a word of explanation she left. I
had become a living rule of obedience, and
so with trembling hands dressed myself.
Presently I heard footsteps approaching.
A female warder entered with a long, dark
cloak covered with broad arrows, the insig-
nia of the convict. I was told to put on
this garment of shame. Then, supported
by the warder, I crossed the big yard to the
chief matron's office. There other women
of the "Star Class" were waiting, hand-
cuffed. A male warder stepped forward
and told me to hold out my hands, where-
upon he fastened on a pair of handcuffs and
chained me to the rest of the gang. This
was done by means of a chain which ran
through an outer ring attached to each
pair of handcuffs, thus uniting ten women
in a literal chain-gang. This was to me
the last straw of degradation — the parting
indignity of hateful Woking; but, happily,
this was a painful prelude to a more merci-
ful regime at Aylesbury.